Memphis World
Memphis World Publishing Co.
1952-05-13
Chester M. Hampton

 PARSON
by: ALICE ROSS COLVER
Copyright, 1951, Alice Ross Calvar.
Distributed by King Features Syndicate
Returning to the Manse at Crestwood
after four years absence at college. Anna
Atwood, the Parson's danger, is highly
tent. She  for an unconventional 
use, a touch of gaiety, luxury, case.
See  the town's rich show-off bachelor, 
and already tried to woo Anne, but no
is not the type easily to win a girl's trust.
She has  Donald Kent, a newly appointed 
teacher at the Crestwood sign
school and while he, too, tries to court
her  discourages his attentions because 
she loathes his urious teaching
profession.
"DO YOU think now would be
in good time to visit our new neighbors?" 
Barth asked.
"I think so, yes," Constance replied. 
"They're just siting out
there under their wisteria vine
sending the Sunday paper."
The Parson glanced down at his
black gown which he was carrying
over his arm on his way up the
driveway to the Manse from the
morning service. He was filled with
a benign contentment ove the
hour just passed. Anne may not
have been present with her mother 
but he was not worried about
her. He knew her filial loyalty to
him and her strong sense she was
passing way natural. If it should
create temporarily a little adverse
comment, he believed he could
handle it. He did not think it
would be a serious matter. He
trusted his congregation as well
as he trusted his daughter. Standing 
above them this morning, he
had left flowing between him and
them a strong, invisible tide of
great and deep affection. They
trust him, too, he thought now.
It was a beautiful feeling for a
beautiful summer morning.
"I wouldn't want them to think
I was drumming up trade," he
said, lowering his voice.
"Oh, well, I don't believe—"
"I mean to say I don't want my
appearance at this moment to
seem like a reproof to them. After
all, they may belong to another
church.
Just the same, we'd better go
now." Constance decided. "They've
been here nearly a week and we'll
seem unfriendly if we don't. I
only wish Anne were with us,"
she added, thinking of Donald.
Anne had not been nice to Donald,
and he was really a fine young
man.
"We'll have to let Anne alone,"
the Parson returned. "We can't
 any pressure on her at all...
For anything," he added pointedly.
"I know," Constance said, "but
when people say—and everybody
said it this morning — 'Where's
Anne? I thought she was home,
what am I going to answer?"
"Answer, 'She is, and stop there
Our whole congregation exercise
freedom of choice about attending
services. Why shouldn't she?"
Constance made no reply. Barth
was proving a great deal more
tolerant in his acceptance of
Anne's attitude than she had anticipated. 

Then her husband's friendly resonant 
tones rang out on the sum=
mer sir.
"Good morning, neighbors! Is
this a convenient time for us to
offer you a welcome to our town?"
Virginia, looking up at the
sound of the Parson's call, spoke
in a low voice to Philip. "This is
it, my love. Get pious." The next
moment she had lifted herself from
the rattan chair in which she was
reclining and had moved forward
across the lawn with one hand extended 
and the newspaper tucked
under her other arm.
"What a pleasure!" she said,
forcing her voice to a note of
polite sincerity. "Philip, bring another 
chair from the porch. Oh,
you must sit down for a moment,
at least. Don has been telling us
about you, and we've been looking
forward—" She broke off to glance
up at a window overhead. "Don!
Are you there? Dr. and Mrs. Atwood 
have come to see us."
"Be right down!" Don called.
"Now we don't mean to disturb
anybody," Barth began, but Virginia 
protested that they weren't
at all, and in a moment the four
of them were seated under the
heavy foliage of a vine.
"Beautiful, this wisteria," Barth
said, his eyes travelling over it.
"You missed it at its loveliest,
however. Wait until next April
or May. You'll see purple sprays
as long as my arm. Simply beautiful." 

He was speaking with his usual
gracious case. Was it possible he
did not feel, as Constance did, a
faint mockery, an undercurrent of
resentment beneath the courtesy of
these strangers?
Her eyes moved from one to
the other as they talked. Virginia
a woman probably in her early
forties, was wearing with complete
unconsciousness or indifference—or
both—her favorite outfit, a navy
slack suit. Soiled white sneakers
were on her feet, and a multicolored 
bandana was twisted carelessly 
about her head. From beneath
this, above her shrewd good-humored 
eyes, a fuzzy pompon of
gray curls bobbed, and dangling
silver earrings swung with every
motion she made. Her husband,
more ponderous than she in speech
and movement, was barefoot: while
his shirt, which he had hastily
buttoned across a hairy chest at
their approach, hung outside of
his creaseless khaki shorts.
Constance said, "Are you beginning 
to feel at home yet. Mrs.
Moore? Have you — an — found
everything finally?" And then, before 
Virginia's sharp knowledgeable 
look, she could have bitten
her tongue out. But the accusation 
fell.
"You heard us."
Barth said quickly, "Certainly
we heard you. How could we help
it? Although, actually, we didn't
try very hard not to. We even

can so feel you were, perhaps,
putting on a show for our particular 
benefit."
Virginia's glance turned in faint
suspicious toward the Parson. But
his expression was blandly innocent. 

"Perhaps I should explain," he
went on. "You do all your living
on the south side, as we do. However, 
we have an advantage over
you for we can keep out of sight
and sound with our house between
us and you. You aren't so fortunate. 
From our kitchen and dining 
room windows on the north we
can stand unobserved and see all,
hear all, know all." He lifted an
interrogative eyebrow while Constance 
sat frozen and Philip and
Virginia stared. "I suppose we
should have come over and told
you this sooner? We debated the
matter, but, I must confess, we
were enjoying our front row seats
too greatly. We didn't want the
curtain rung down. I think I have
never known a moving-in to be accomplished 
with so much—shall I
say—gusto?"
After a second of surprised silence, 
Virginia burst into hearty
laughter. "Don told us," she murmured. 
And then, "Philip, did you
hear what he said?"
Philip, who had dropped crosslegged 
on the grass, took his pipe
from his mouth and fixed his expressionless 
stare on the Parson.
Squatting who had dropped crosslegged 
on the grass, took his pipe
from his mouth and fixed his expressionless 
stare on the Parson.
Squatting like that, Constance
thought, and so huge and with
those round brown eyes and his
bald head, he looks like a Buddha.
But he was speaking.
"We've been spied on. And by a
minister. Brother! I can hardly
believe it." He bent forward and
reached out a big brown hand to
Barth. "Let me, again." He shook
hands gravely. "And now tell me,
do you commit any other mortal
sins?"
"Oh, my, yes," Barth was getting 
into stride. "We steal."
"Steal?"
He nodded. "All of us. Includeing 
my daughter. In fact, I encourage 
her in it. I send her out
in the dark to do it. You'll see
her in the fall, creeping around on
here knees on our driveway picking
up the apples that fall from your
trees. As neighbors," he went on
cheerfully, "we many prove to be
quite, obnoxious. Although I do
believe it's a most question
whether that is actual thievery.
After all, if you can't keep you
apples on your own place, is it
our fault? But I never cared to
investigate the legality of the matter 
because they cook up into such
delicious applesauce" He nodded
toward Virginia. "I'll bring you
over some later on. I make it—
create it, I mean, because I consider 
that I am a culinary artist—
since my wife doesn't care about
the kitchen. Her greatest pleasure
lies in getting out of it."

Returning to the Manse at Crestwood
after four years absence at college Anne
Atwood, the Parson's daughter is highly
discontent. She  for and unconventions 
life a touch of gaiety luxury ease
Joe Mellick, the town's rich show of bachelor 
had already  to won Anne out he
 not the type easily to win a girl's trust
 has m, Donald Kent a newly appointed 
teacher at the Crestwood 
school she while he, too, they to 
her Anne discourages his attentions be
 loathes his pemirious 
 Kent and his sister. Virginia
Mass,  her husband. Philip have society 
moved next to the Manse. These
gas fun-loving Moores stand a little to
 of their church neighbor.
VIRGINIA'S deep laugh was
heard body shook soundlessly. Suddenly, 
Constance realized, the atmosphere 
had changed— why didn't
she trust her husband more?—
while Donald coming across the
perch to join them, knew a vaulting 
triumph which considering
how little acquainted he was with
the Atwoods, was amazing to him.
But, reasonable or not, he exulted
over the immediate or not, he exulted
complete conquest made by the
Parson as if it were something he
himself had accomplished.
"What goes on?" he asked
pushing through the screened door.
"Your friend of the cloth," Philip
answered "has just proved himself 
human. Possessed of the same
 as common man and—"
Virginia, who had been watching
Donald's face, interrupted. "Don!
You told him!"
"This young man," Barta said,
before Donald could answer, "came
over to borrow a hammer one day,
I took him to the kitchen where,
occasionally, it is mislaid by my
wife—you see, Mr. Moore you are
not the only one who suffers in
the matter of lost articles. While
there a feeling of guilt overcame
me an I took the trouble to point
out to Donald the very excellent
view afforded us from our windows
of your lawn and your porch and
your living room. As I recall
there was at the time, a slight
altercation going on over here. It
was clearly audible. I suggested
that perhaps you would like to
know. And he said, if I remember
correctly. Don't worry. They
know, all right. Shouldn't he have
said that?" he finished anxiously
"I do hope it was all right. It
seemed to—well, to sanction our
—I don't know whether to call it
curiously or eavesdropping."
Donald blue laughter-filled eyes
met his sister's. "Fess up, Ginny.
They have Now it's your turn."
"I'm embarrassed," she said
frankly. "But—gripping my courage 
with both hands as the saying
goes—here's the truth. We meant
to shock you. We hoped to shock
you."
"But why?" Constance exclaimed. 

"Because they didn't want us to
come over of course," Barth answered 
quickly with a quizzical
quick of one eyebrow in Virginia's
direction. Am I right? Wasn't
that it?"
Virginia had the grace to color.
"But now let me explain, she
begged." It was because we wanted 
you to understand at once that
we are not church people. We
never go. Never at all. And we
don't expect to begin." She paused
a moment: then, with a directness
both Constance and Barth respected 
she added. "Perhaps I should
say we very definitely don't want
to begin: Now have I shocked you
Dr. Alwood?"
"Not at all," came his equable
reply. "There are many people
like you, No better and no worse
than the rest of us." he stopped
as a squirrel hopped toward his
foot. "I declare, this looks like
my pet calling on you too...But
getting back to what we were
saying, he went, on, serious for
the first time since his arrival. "I
don't go around trying to sell religion. 
The church is here. I am
here, for anyone who wants us."
His warm sweet smile lightened
his face as he glanced around at
all of them and concluded. "I think
we can be very good neighbors,
whether you go to my church or
to any church for that matter, or
whether you don't. That was my
sole idea in calling. I might add—
to establish neighborly contact. To
let you know that as human beings 
we are friendly."
Then he made a quickly turn to
lightness again.
"I only hope your won't complain
of us as the last people did who
live here—I'm going to tell this
Constance. They're gone and no
harm can be done—they didn't like
it because I did not keep the bank
clippled above our driveway. It's
out bank I admit. You see the apple
trees from which we steal. But
the point is the bank grows wild
flowers Daniels and goldenrod and
lupine. And I hated to have them
mowed down chiefly because the
grass will never be good there
without a lot of care and expense,
neither of which I can afford to
give. Now I'm wondering if you
are going to complain about that
bank. It's good to get these little
matters between us clear at the
start. I think don't you? So suppose 
you tell me just exactly what
your attitude is going to be?"
The bold demanding thrust of
his question, to which there could
of course be but one answer, delighted 
Virginia. Everything about
him delighted her. What delicate
frankness he had shown, she
though. And liberality.
It was at this moment that
Anne wearing a faded blue-denim
smock over matching blue slacks
which she had rolled to her knees,
and with a trowel in her hand
rounded the corner of the Manse
veranda in a dash to the front
door. At sight of her parents she
stopped short.
"So there's where you are!" she
oried. "Don't you people know it's
past one o'clock? And I, for one
am starving."
Virginia called back, "Don't try

to take them away. Come over
and join us. We're having a wonderful 
time."
Anne hesitated and for a second
her targile slenderness together
with her uncertainty, made her
seem. Constance thought, vaguely
lost and terribly vulnerable. But
the next moment her buoyant
voice belied the notion.
"If you don't mind how I look?
Because!'" And, still holding her
trowel, she came running, with her
lovely fluid grace over to them.
The next hour became a memory 
Constance long enjoyed. It
was the starting point of a relationship 
between the two houses
that enmeshed them all and that,
in time, drew in not only the Parson's 
church but the whole town.
"Now," said Virginia, when
Anne had settled herself on a
cushion on the ground with her
back against a tree. "Now I'll call
Mary and we'll see about lunch."
"Oh no!" Constance protested
quickly. "We mustn't. Really!
That's too much."
"Nonsense" Virginia lifted her
great warm voice and summoned
an invisible Mary. "We'll simply
have a picnic. It's our usual routine 
on days like this and it'll be
very easy. Mary"—she turned toward 
the woman who had emerged
from the kitchen—"these are our
neighbors. Dr. and Mrs. Atwood
and Miss Anne Atwood. Dr. Atwood 
is the minister of the little
church across the street."
Mary murmuring, "Yes'm," and,
"How do, suh...Miz Atwood...
Miss Atwood..." respectfully
bobbed a grizzled head while the
broad calm of her brown face registered 
whole souled approval. Her
ample figure in her crisp and correct 
blue unform, white apron,
and white cap was something of
a surprise to Constance, and sensing 
this Virginia quickly explained. 

"Mary is an inheritance. She
came to us with Donald and has
beem with us ever since. But she
was born in the south and lived
there until she was twenty—is that
right. Mary?—And none of our
haphazard ways have changed
her." Her earrings swayed as she
looked up at her faithful servant
and friend with real affection in
her glance.
"I wish I had a Mary!" Constance 
exclaimed.
"Mary has a son in the United
States Army. A Captain," Virginia 
went on. "Captain Sam
Mapes."
"Is that so?" Barth's face expressed 
his genuine interest and
pleasure in this statement. "That's
something to be proud of."
"Yes, suh,  is proud."
"Well now about lunch Mary—"
"Chicken sandwiches and green
salad, all awaitin Ma'am."
Virginia hesitated looked toward 
the Parson. "Ginger ale?"
"Gin ale is very popular with
us, he said.


SYNOPSIS
by: ALICE ROSS COLVER
Copyright, 1951, Alice Ross Calvar.
Distributed by King Features Syndicate
Returning to the Manse at Crestwood
after four years absence at college. Anna
Atwood, the Parson's danger, is highly
tent. She  for an unconventional 
use, a touch of gaiety, luxury, case.
See  the town's rich show-off bachelor, 
and already tried to woo Anne, but no
is not the type easily to win a girl's trust.
She has  Donald Kent, a newly appointed 
teacher at the Crestwood sign
school and while he, too, tries to court
her  discourages his attentions because 
she loathes his urious teaching
profession.
"DO YOU think now would be
in good time to visit our new neighbors?" 
Barth asked.
"I think so, yes," Constance replied. 
"They're just siting out
there under their wisteria vine
sending the Sunday paper."
The Parson glanced down at his
black gown which he was carrying
over his arm on his way up the
driveway to the Manse from the
morning service. He was filled with
a benign contentment ove the
hour just passed. Anne may not
have been present with her mother 
but he was not worried about
her. He knew her filial loyalty to
him and her strong sense she was
passing way natural. If it should
create temporarily a little adverse
comment, he believed he could
handle it. He did not think it
would be a serious matter. He
trusted his congregation as well
as he trusted his daughter. Standing 
above them this morning, he
had left flowing between him and
them a strong, invisible tide of
great and deep affection. They
trust him, too, he thought now.
It was a beautiful feeling for a
beautiful summer morning.
"I wouldn't want them to think
I was drumming up trade," he
said, lowering his voice.
"Oh, well, I don't believe—"
"I mean to say I don't want my
appearance at this moment to
seem like a reproof to them. After
all, they may belong to another
church.
Just the same, we'd better go
now." Constance decided. "They've
been here nearly a week and we'll
seem unfriendly if we don't. I
only wish Anne were with us,"
she added, thinking of Donald.
Anne had not been nice to Donald,
and he was really a fine young
man.
"We'll have to let Anne alone,"
the Parson returned. "We can't
 any pressure on her at all...
For anything," he added pointedly.
"I know," Constance said, "but
when people say—and everybody
said it this morning — 'Where's
Anne? I thought she was home,
what am I going to answer?"
"Answer, 'She is, and stop there
Our whole congregation exercise
freedom of choice about attending
services. Why shouldn't she?"
Constance made no reply. Barth
was proving a great deal more
tolerant in his acceptance of
Anne's attitude than she had anticipated. 

Then her husband's friendly resonant 
tones rang out on the sum=
mer sir.
"Good morning, neighbors! Is
this a convenient time for us to
offer you a welcome to our town?"
Virginia, looking up at the
sound of the Parson's call, spoke
in a low voice to Philip. "This is
it, my love. Get pious." The next
moment she had lifted herself from
the rattan chair in which she was
reclining and had moved forward
across the lawn with one hand extended 
and the newspaper tucked
under her other arm.
"What a pleasure!" she said,
forcing her voice to a note of
polite sincerity. "Philip, bring another 
chair from the porch. Oh,
you must sit down for a moment,
at least. Don has been telling us
about you, and we've been looking
forward—" She broke off to glance
up at a window overhead. "Don!
Are you there? Dr. and Mrs. Atwood 
have come to see us."
"Be right down!" Don called.
"Now we don't mean to disturb
anybody," Barth began, but Virginia 
protested that they weren't
at all, and in a moment the four
of them were seated under the
heavy foliage of a vine.
"Beautiful, this wisteria," Barth
said, his eyes travelling over it.
"You missed it at its loveliest,
however. Wait until next April
or May. You'll see purple sprays
as long as my arm. Simply beautiful." 

He was speaking with his usual
gracious case. Was it possible he
did not feel, as Constance did, a
faint mockery, an undercurrent of
resentment beneath the courtesy of
these strangers?
Her eyes moved from one to
the other as they talked. Virginia
a woman probably in her early
forties, was wearing with complete
unconsciousness or indifference—or
both—her favorite outfit, a navy
slack suit. Soiled white sneakers
were on her feet, and a multicolored 
bandana was twisted carelessly 
about her head. From beneath
this, above her shrewd good-humored 
eyes, a fuzzy pompon of
gray curls bobbed, and dangling
silver earrings swung with every
motion she made. Her husband,
more ponderous than she in speech
and movement, was barefoot: while
his shirt, which he had hastily
buttoned across a hairy chest at
their approach, hung outside of
his creaseless khaki shorts.
Constance said, "Are you beginning 
to feel at home yet. Mrs.
Moore? Have you — an — found
everything finally?" And then, before 
Virginia's sharp knowledgeable 
look, she could have bitten
her tongue out. But the accusation 
fell.
"You heard us."
Barth said quickly, "Certainly
we heard you. How could we help
it? Although, actually, we didn't
try very hard not to. We even

can so feel you were, perhaps,
putting on a show for our particular 
benefit."
Virginia's glance turned in faint
suspicious toward the Parson. But
his expression was blandly innocent. 

"Perhaps I should explain," he
went on. "You do all your living
on the south side, as we do. However, 
we have an advantage over
you for we can keep out of sight
and sound with our house between
us and you. You aren't so fortunate. 
From our kitchen and dining 
room windows on the north we
can stand unobserved and see all,
hear all, know all." He lifted an
interrogative eyebrow while Constance 
sat frozen and Philip and
Virginia stared. "I suppose we
should have come over and told
you this sooner? We debated the
matter, but, I must confess, we
were enjoying our front row seats
too greatly. We didn't want the
curtain rung down. I think I have
never known a moving-in to be accomplished 
with so much—shall I
say—gusto?"
After a second of surprised silence, 
Virginia burst into hearty
laughter. "Don told us," she murmured. 
And then, "Philip, did you
hear what he said?"
Philip, who had dropped crosslegged 
on the grass, took his pipe
from his mouth and fixed his expressionless 
stare on the Parson.
Squatting who had dropped crosslegged 
on the grass, took his pipe
from his mouth and fixed his expressionless 
stare on the Parson.
Squatting like that, Constance
thought, and so huge and with
those round brown eyes and his
bald head, he looks like a Buddha.
But he was speaking.
"We've been spied on. And by a
minister. Brother! I can hardly
believe it." He bent forward and
reached out a big brown hand to
Barth. "Let me, again." He shook
hands gravely. "And now tell me,
do you commit any other mortal
sins?"
"Oh, my, yes," Barth was getting 
into stride. "We steal."
"Steal?"
He nodded. "All of us. Includeing 
my daughter. In fact, I encourage 
her in it. I send her out
in the dark to do it. You'll see
her in the fall, creeping around on
here knees on our driveway picking
up the apples that fall from your
trees. As neighbors," he went on
cheerfully, "we many prove to be
quite, obnoxious. Although I do
believe it's a most question
whether that is actual thievery.
After all, if you can't keep you
apples on your own place, is it
our fault? But I never cared to
investigate the legality of the matter 
because they cook up into such
delicious applesauce" He nodded
toward Virginia. "I'll bring you
over some later on. I make it—
create it, I mean, because I consider 
that I am a culinary artist—
since my wife doesn't care about
the kitchen. Her greatest pleasure
lies in getting out of it."

Returning to the Manse at Crestwood
after four years absence at college Anne
Atwood, the Parson's daughter is highly
discontent. She  for and unconventions 
life a touch of gaiety luxury ease
Joe Mellick, the town's rich show of bachelor 
had already  to won Anne out he
 not the type easily to win a girl's trust
 has m, Donald Kent a newly appointed 
teacher at the Crestwood 
school she while he, too, they to 
her Anne discourages his attentions be
 loathes his pemirious 
 Kent and his sister. Virginia
Mass,  her husband. Philip have society 
moved next to the Manse. These
gas fun-loving Moores stand a little to
 of their church neighbor.
VIRGINIA'S deep laugh was
heard body shook soundlessly. Suddenly, 
Constance realized, the atmosphere 
had changed— why didn't
she trust her husband more?—
while Donald coming across the
perch to join them, knew a vaulting 
triumph which considering
how little acquainted he was with
the Atwoods, was amazing to him.
But, reasonable or not, he exulted
over the immediate or not, he exulted
complete conquest made by the
Parson as if it were something he
himself had accomplished.
"What goes on?" he asked
pushing through the screened door.
"Your friend of the cloth," Philip
answered "has just proved himself 
human. Possessed of the same
 as common man and—"
Virginia, who had been watching
Donald's face, interrupted. "Don!
You told him!"
"This young man," Barta said,
before Donald could answer, "came
over to borrow a hammer one day,
I took him to the kitchen where,
occasionally, it is mislaid by my
wife—you see, Mr. Moore you are
not the only one who suffers in
the matter of lost articles. While
there a feeling of guilt overcame
me an I took the trouble to point
out to Donald the very excellent
view afforded us from our windows
of your lawn and your porch and
your living room. As I recall
there was at the time, a slight
altercation going on over here. It
was clearly audible. I suggested
that perhaps you would like to
know. And he said, if I remember
correctly. Don't worry. They
know, all right. Shouldn't he have
said that?" he finished anxiously
"I do hope it was all right. It
seemed to—well, to sanction our
—I don't know whether to call it
curiously or eavesdropping."
Donald blue laughter-filled eyes
met his sister's. "Fess up, Ginny.
They have Now it's your turn."
"I'm embarrassed," she said
frankly. "But—gripping my courage 
with both hands as the saying
goes—here's the truth. We meant
to shock you. We hoped to shock
you."
"But why?" Constance exclaimed. 

"Because they didn't want us to
come over of course," Barth answered 
quickly with a quizzical
quick of one eyebrow in Virginia's
direction. Am I right? Wasn't
that it?"
Virginia had the grace to color.
"But now let me explain, she
begged." It was because we wanted 
you to understand at once that
we are not church people. We
never go. Never at all. And we
don't expect to begin." She paused
a moment: then, with a directness
both Constance and Barth respected 
she added. "Perhaps I should
say we very definitely don't want
to begin: Now have I shocked you
Dr. Alwood?"
"Not at all," came his equable
reply. "There are many people
like you, No better and no worse
than the rest of us." he stopped
as a squirrel hopped toward his
foot. "I declare, this looks like
my pet calling on you too...But
getting back to what we were
saying, he went, on, serious for
the first time since his arrival. "I
don't go around trying to sell religion. 
The church is here. I am
here, for anyone who wants us."
His warm sweet smile lightened
his face as he glanced around at
all of them and concluded. "I think
we can be very good neighbors,
whether you go to my church or
to any church for that matter, or
whether you don't. That was my
sole idea in calling. I might add—
to establish neighborly contact. To
let you know that as human beings 
we are friendly."
Then he made a quickly turn to
lightness again.
"I only hope your won't complain
of us as the last people did who
live here—I'm going to tell this
Constance. They're gone and no
harm can be done—they didn't like
it because I did not keep the bank
clippled above our driveway. It's
out bank I admit. You see the apple
trees from which we steal. But
the point is the bank grows wild
flowers Daniels and goldenrod and
lupine. And I hated to have them
mowed down chiefly because the
grass will never be good there
without a lot of care and expense,
neither of which I can afford to
give. Now I'm wondering if you
are going to complain about that
bank. It's good to get these little
matters between us clear at the
start. I think don't you? So suppose 
you tell me just exactly what
your attitude is going to be?"
The bold demanding thrust of
his question, to which there could
of course be but one answer, delighted 
Virginia. Everything about
him delighted her. What delicate
frankness he had shown, she
though. And liberality.
It was at this moment that
Anne wearing a faded blue-denim
smock over matching blue slacks
which she had rolled to her knees,
and with a trowel in her hand
rounded the corner of the Manse
veranda in a dash to the front
door. At sight of her parents she
stopped short.
"So there's where you are!" she
oried. "Don't you people know it's
past one o'clock? And I, for one
am starving."
Virginia called back, "Don't try

to take them away. Come over
and join us. We're having a wonderful 
time."
Anne hesitated and for a second
her targile slenderness together
with her uncertainty, made her
seem. Constance thought, vaguely
lost and terribly vulnerable. But
the next moment her buoyant
voice belied the notion.
"If you don't mind how I look?
Because!'" And, still holding her
trowel, she came running, with her
lovely fluid grace over to them.
The next hour became a memory 
Constance long enjoyed. It
was the starting point of a relationship 
between the two houses
that enmeshed them all and that,
in time, drew in not only the Parson's 
church but the whole town.
"Now," said Virginia, when
Anne had settled herself on a
cushion on the ground with her
back against a tree. "Now I'll call
Mary and we'll see about lunch."
"Oh no!" Constance protested
quickly. "We mustn't. Really!
That's too much."
"Nonsense" Virginia lifted her
great warm voice and summoned
an invisible Mary. "We'll simply
have a picnic. It's our usual routine 
on days like this and it'll be
very easy. Mary"—she turned toward 
the woman who had emerged
from the kitchen—"these are our
neighbors. Dr. and Mrs. Atwood
and Miss Anne Atwood. Dr. Atwood 
is the minister of the little
church across the street."
Mary murmuring, "Yes'm," and,
"How do, suh...Miz Atwood...
Miss Atwood..." respectfully
bobbed a grizzled head while the
broad calm of her brown face registered 
whole souled approval. Her
ample figure in her crisp and correct 
blue unform, white apron,
and white cap was something of
a surprise to Constance, and sensing 
this Virginia quickly explained. 

"Mary is an inheritance. She
came to us with Donald and has
beem with us ever since. But she
was born in the south and lived
there until she was twenty—is that
right. Mary?—And none of our
haphazard ways have changed
her." Her earrings swayed as she
looked up at her faithful servant
and friend with real affection in
her glance.
"I wish I had a Mary!" Constance 
exclaimed.
"Mary has a son in the United
States Army. A Captain," Virginia 
went on. "Captain Sam
Mapes."
"Is that so?" Barth's face expressed 
his genuine interest and
pleasure in this statement. "That's
something to be proud of."
"Yes, suh,  is proud."
"Well now about lunch Mary—"
"Chicken sandwiches and green
salad, all awaitin Ma'am."
Virginia hesitated looked toward 
the Parson. "Ginger ale?"
"Gin ale is very popular with
us, he said.


CHAPTER SEVEN
by: ALICE ROSS COLVER
Copyright, 1951, Alice Ross Calvar.
Distributed by King Features Syndicate
Returning to the Manse at Crestwood
after four years absence at college. Anna
Atwood, the Parson's danger, is highly
tent. She  for an unconventional 
use, a touch of gaiety, luxury, case.
See  the town's rich show-off bachelor, 
and already tried to woo Anne, but no
is not the type easily to win a girl's trust.
She has  Donald Kent, a newly appointed 
teacher at the Crestwood sign
school and while he, too, tries to court
her  discourages his attentions because 
she loathes his urious teaching
profession.
"DO YOU think now would be
in good time to visit our new neighbors?" 
Barth asked.
"I think so, yes," Constance replied. 
"They're just siting out
there under their wisteria vine
sending the Sunday paper."
The Parson glanced down at his
black gown which he was carrying
over his arm on his way up the
driveway to the Manse from the
morning service. He was filled with
a benign contentment ove the
hour just passed. Anne may not
have been present with her mother 
but he was not worried about
her. He knew her filial loyalty to
him and her strong sense she was
passing way natural. If it should
create temporarily a little adverse
comment, he believed he could
handle it. He did not think it
would be a serious matter. He
trusted his congregation as well
as he trusted his daughter. Standing 
above them this morning, he
had left flowing between him and
them a strong, invisible tide of
great and deep affection. They
trust him, too, he thought now.
It was a beautiful feeling for a
beautiful summer morning.
"I wouldn't want them to think
I was drumming up trade," he
said, lowering his voice.
"Oh, well, I don't believe—"
"I mean to say I don't want my
appearance at this moment to
seem like a reproof to them. After
all, they may belong to another
church.
Just the same, we'd better go
now." Constance decided. "They've
been here nearly a week and we'll
seem unfriendly if we don't. I
only wish Anne were with us,"
she added, thinking of Donald.
Anne had not been nice to Donald,
and he was really a fine young
man.
"We'll have to let Anne alone,"
the Parson returned. "We can't
 any pressure on her at all...
For anything," he added pointedly.
"I know," Constance said, "but
when people say—and everybody
said it this morning — 'Where's
Anne? I thought she was home,
what am I going to answer?"
"Answer, 'She is, and stop there
Our whole congregation exercise
freedom of choice about attending
services. Why shouldn't she?"
Constance made no reply. Barth
was proving a great deal more
tolerant in his acceptance of
Anne's attitude than she had anticipated. 

Then her husband's friendly resonant 
tones rang out on the sum=
mer sir.
"Good morning, neighbors! Is
this a convenient time for us to
offer you a welcome to our town?"
Virginia, looking up at the
sound of the Parson's call, spoke
in a low voice to Philip. "This is
it, my love. Get pious." The next
moment she had lifted herself from
the rattan chair in which she was
reclining and had moved forward
across the lawn with one hand extended 
and the newspaper tucked
under her other arm.
"What a pleasure!" she said,
forcing her voice to a note of
polite sincerity. "Philip, bring another 
chair from the porch. Oh,
you must sit down for a moment,
at least. Don has been telling us
about you, and we've been looking
forward—" She broke off to glance
up at a window overhead. "Don!
Are you there? Dr. and Mrs. Atwood 
have come to see us."
"Be right down!" Don called.
"Now we don't mean to disturb
anybody," Barth began, but Virginia 
protested that they weren't
at all, and in a moment the four
of them were seated under the
heavy foliage of a vine.
"Beautiful, this wisteria," Barth
said, his eyes travelling over it.
"You missed it at its loveliest,
however. Wait until next April
or May. You'll see purple sprays
as long as my arm. Simply beautiful." 

He was speaking with his usual
gracious case. Was it possible he
did not feel, as Constance did, a
faint mockery, an undercurrent of
resentment beneath the courtesy of
these strangers?
Her eyes moved from one to
the other as they talked. Virginia
a woman probably in her early
forties, was wearing with complete
unconsciousness or indifference—or
both—her favorite outfit, a navy
slack suit. Soiled white sneakers
were on her feet, and a multicolored 
bandana was twisted carelessly 
about her head. From beneath
this, above her shrewd good-humored 
eyes, a fuzzy pompon of
gray curls bobbed, and dangling
silver earrings swung with every
motion she made. Her husband,
more ponderous than she in speech
and movement, was barefoot: while
his shirt, which he had hastily
buttoned across a hairy chest at
their approach, hung outside of
his creaseless khaki shorts.
Constance said, "Are you beginning 
to feel at home yet. Mrs.
Moore? Have you — an — found
everything finally?" And then, before 
Virginia's sharp knowledgeable 
look, she could have bitten
her tongue out. But the accusation 
fell.
"You heard us."
Barth said quickly, "Certainly
we heard you. How could we help
it? Although, actually, we didn't
try very hard not to. We even

can so feel you were, perhaps,
putting on a show for our particular 
benefit."
Virginia's glance turned in faint
suspicious toward the Parson. But
his expression was blandly innocent. 

"Perhaps I should explain," he
went on. "You do all your living
on the south side, as we do. However, 
we have an advantage over
you for we can keep out of sight
and sound with our house between
us and you. You aren't so fortunate. 
From our kitchen and dining 
room windows on the north we
can stand unobserved and see all,
hear all, know all." He lifted an
interrogative eyebrow while Constance 
sat frozen and Philip and
Virginia stared. "I suppose we
should have come over and told
you this sooner? We debated the
matter, but, I must confess, we
were enjoying our front row seats
too greatly. We didn't want the
curtain rung down. I think I have
never known a moving-in to be accomplished 
with so much—shall I
say—gusto?"
After a second of surprised silence, 
Virginia burst into hearty
laughter. "Don told us," she murmured. 
And then, "Philip, did you
hear what he said?"
Philip, who had dropped crosslegged 
on the grass, took his pipe
from his mouth and fixed his expressionless 
stare on the Parson.
Squatting who had dropped crosslegged 
on the grass, took his pipe
from his mouth and fixed his expressionless 
stare on the Parson.
Squatting like that, Constance
thought, and so huge and with
those round brown eyes and his
bald head, he looks like a Buddha.
But he was speaking.
"We've been spied on. And by a
minister. Brother! I can hardly
believe it." He bent forward and
reached out a big brown hand to
Barth. "Let me, again." He shook
hands gravely. "And now tell me,
do you commit any other mortal
sins?"
"Oh, my, yes," Barth was getting 
into stride. "We steal."
"Steal?"
He nodded. "All of us. Includeing 
my daughter. In fact, I encourage 
her in it. I send her out
in the dark to do it. You'll see
her in the fall, creeping around on
here knees on our driveway picking
up the apples that fall from your
trees. As neighbors," he went on
cheerfully, "we many prove to be
quite, obnoxious. Although I do
believe it's a most question
whether that is actual thievery.
After all, if you can't keep you
apples on your own place, is it
our fault? But I never cared to
investigate the legality of the matter 
because they cook up into such
delicious applesauce" He nodded
toward Virginia. "I'll bring you
over some later on. I make it—
create it, I mean, because I consider 
that I am a culinary artist—
since my wife doesn't care about
the kitchen. Her greatest pleasure
lies in getting out of it."

Returning to the Manse at Crestwood
after four years absence at college Anne
Atwood, the Parson's daughter is highly
discontent. She  for and unconventions 
life a touch of gaiety luxury ease
Joe Mellick, the town's rich show of bachelor 
had already  to won Anne out he
 not the type easily to win a girl's trust
 has m, Donald Kent a newly appointed 
teacher at the Crestwood 
school she while he, too, they to 
her Anne discourages his attentions be
 loathes his pemirious 
 Kent and his sister. Virginia
Mass,  her husband. Philip have society 
moved next to the Manse. These
gas fun-loving Moores stand a little to
 of their church neighbor.
VIRGINIA'S deep laugh was
heard body shook soundlessly. Suddenly, 
Constance realized, the atmosphere 
had changed— why didn't
she trust her husband more?—
while Donald coming across the
perch to join them, knew a vaulting 
triumph which considering
how little acquainted he was with
the Atwoods, was amazing to him.
But, reasonable or not, he exulted
over the immediate or not, he exulted
complete conquest made by the
Parson as if it were something he
himself had accomplished.
"What goes on?" he asked
pushing through the screened door.
"Your friend of the cloth," Philip
answered "has just proved himself 
human. Possessed of the same
 as common man and—"
Virginia, who had been watching
Donald's face, interrupted. "Don!
You told him!"
"This young man," Barta said,
before Donald could answer, "came
over to borrow a hammer one day,
I took him to the kitchen where,
occasionally, it is mislaid by my
wife—you see, Mr. Moore you are
not the only one who suffers in
the matter of lost articles. While
there a feeling of guilt overcame
me an I took the trouble to point
out to Donald the very excellent
view afforded us from our windows
of your lawn and your porch and
your living room. As I recall
there was at the time, a slight
altercation going on over here. It
was clearly audible. I suggested
that perhaps you would like to
know. And he said, if I remember
correctly. Don't worry. They
know, all right. Shouldn't he have
said that?" he finished anxiously
"I do hope it was all right. It
seemed to—well, to sanction our
—I don't know whether to call it
curiously or eavesdropping."
Donald blue laughter-filled eyes
met his sister's. "Fess up, Ginny.
They have Now it's your turn."
"I'm embarrassed," she said
frankly. "But—gripping my courage 
with both hands as the saying
goes—here's the truth. We meant
to shock you. We hoped to shock
you."
"But why?" Constance exclaimed. 

"Because they didn't want us to
come over of course," Barth answered 
quickly with a quizzical
quick of one eyebrow in Virginia's
direction. Am I right? Wasn't
that it?"
Virginia had the grace to color.
"But now let me explain, she
begged." It was because we wanted 
you to understand at once that
we are not church people. We
never go. Never at all. And we
don't expect to begin." She paused
a moment: then, with a directness
both Constance and Barth respected 
she added. "Perhaps I should
say we very definitely don't want
to begin: Now have I shocked you
Dr. Alwood?"
"Not at all," came his equable
reply. "There are many people
like you, No better and no worse
than the rest of us." he stopped
as a squirrel hopped toward his
foot. "I declare, this looks like
my pet calling on you too...But
getting back to what we were
saying, he went, on, serious for
the first time since his arrival. "I
don't go around trying to sell religion. 
The church is here. I am
here, for anyone who wants us."
His warm sweet smile lightened
his face as he glanced around at
all of them and concluded. "I think
we can be very good neighbors,
whether you go to my church or
to any church for that matter, or
whether you don't. That was my
sole idea in calling. I might add—
to establish neighborly contact. To
let you know that as human beings 
we are friendly."
Then he made a quickly turn to
lightness again.
"I only hope your won't complain
of us as the last people did who
live here—I'm going to tell this
Constance. They're gone and no
harm can be done—they didn't like
it because I did not keep the bank
clippled above our driveway. It's
out bank I admit. You see the apple
trees from which we steal. But
the point is the bank grows wild
flowers Daniels and goldenrod and
lupine. And I hated to have them
mowed down chiefly because the
grass will never be good there
without a lot of care and expense,
neither of which I can afford to
give. Now I'm wondering if you
are going to complain about that
bank. It's good to get these little
matters between us clear at the
start. I think don't you? So suppose 
you tell me just exactly what
your attitude is going to be?"
The bold demanding thrust of
his question, to which there could
of course be but one answer, delighted 
Virginia. Everything about
him delighted her. What delicate
frankness he had shown, she
though. And liberality.
It was at this moment that
Anne wearing a faded blue-denim
smock over matching blue slacks
which she had rolled to her knees,
and with a trowel in her hand
rounded the corner of the Manse
veranda in a dash to the front
door. At sight of her parents she
stopped short.
"So there's where you are!" she
oried. "Don't you people know it's
past one o'clock? And I, for one
am starving."
Virginia called back, "Don't try

to take them away. Come over
and join us. We're having a wonderful 
time."
Anne hesitated and for a second
her targile slenderness together
with her uncertainty, made her
seem. Constance thought, vaguely
lost and terribly vulnerable. But
the next moment her buoyant
voice belied the notion.
"If you don't mind how I look?
Because!'" And, still holding her
trowel, she came running, with her
lovely fluid grace over to them.
The next hour became a memory 
Constance long enjoyed. It
was the starting point of a relationship 
between the two houses
that enmeshed them all and that,
in time, drew in not only the Parson's 
church but the whole town.
"Now," said Virginia, when
Anne had settled herself on a
cushion on the ground with her
back against a tree. "Now I'll call
Mary and we'll see about lunch."
"Oh no!" Constance protested
quickly. "We mustn't. Really!
That's too much."
"Nonsense" Virginia lifted her
great warm voice and summoned
an invisible Mary. "We'll simply
have a picnic. It's our usual routine 
on days like this and it'll be
very easy. Mary"—she turned toward 
the woman who had emerged
from the kitchen—"these are our
neighbors. Dr. and Mrs. Atwood
and Miss Anne Atwood. Dr. Atwood 
is the minister of the little
church across the street."
Mary murmuring, "Yes'm," and,
"How do, suh...Miz Atwood...
Miss Atwood..." respectfully
bobbed a grizzled head while the
broad calm of her brown face registered 
whole souled approval. Her
ample figure in her crisp and correct 
blue unform, white apron,
and white cap was something of
a surprise to Constance, and sensing 
this Virginia quickly explained. 

"Mary is an inheritance. She
came to us with Donald and has
beem with us ever since. But she
was born in the south and lived
there until she was twenty—is that
right. Mary?—And none of our
haphazard ways have changed
her." Her earrings swayed as she
looked up at her faithful servant
and friend with real affection in
her glance.
"I wish I had a Mary!" Constance 
exclaimed.
"Mary has a son in the United
States Army. A Captain," Virginia 
went on. "Captain Sam
Mapes."
"Is that so?" Barth's face expressed 
his genuine interest and
pleasure in this statement. "That's
something to be proud of."
"Yes, suh,  is proud."
"Well now about lunch Mary—"
"Chicken sandwiches and green
salad, all awaitin Ma'am."
Virginia hesitated looked toward 
the Parson. "Ginger ale?"
"Gin ale is very popular with
us, he said.


SYNOPSIS
by: ALICE ROSS COLVER
Copyright, 1951, Alice Ross Calvar.
Distributed by King Features Syndicate
Returning to the Manse at Crestwood
after four years absence at college. Anna
Atwood, the Parson's danger, is highly
tent. She  for an unconventional 
use, a touch of gaiety, luxury, case.
See  the town's rich show-off bachelor, 
and already tried to woo Anne, but no
is not the type easily to win a girl's trust.
She has  Donald Kent, a newly appointed 
teacher at the Crestwood sign
school and while he, too, tries to court
her  discourages his attentions because 
she loathes his urious teaching
profession.
"DO YOU think now would be
in good time to visit our new neighbors?" 
Barth asked.
"I think so, yes," Constance replied. 
"They're just siting out
there under their wisteria vine
sending the Sunday paper."
The Parson glanced down at his
black gown which he was carrying
over his arm on his way up the
driveway to the Manse from the
morning service. He was filled with
a benign contentment ove the
hour just passed. Anne may not
have been present with her mother 
but he was not worried about
her. He knew her filial loyalty to
him and her strong sense she was
passing way natural. If it should
create temporarily a little adverse
comment, he believed he could
handle it. He did not think it
would be a serious matter. He
trusted his congregation as well
as he trusted his daughter. Standing 
above them this morning, he
had left flowing between him and
them a strong, invisible tide of
great and deep affection. They
trust him, too, he thought now.
It was a beautiful feeling for a
beautiful summer morning.
"I wouldn't want them to think
I was drumming up trade," he
said, lowering his voice.
"Oh, well, I don't believe—"
"I mean to say I don't want my
appearance at this moment to
seem like a reproof to them. After
all, they may belong to another
church.
Just the same, we'd better go
now." Constance decided. "They've
been here nearly a week and we'll
seem unfriendly if we don't. I
only wish Anne were with us,"
she added, thinking of Donald.
Anne had not been nice to Donald,
and he was really a fine young
man.
"We'll have to let Anne alone,"
the Parson returned. "We can't
 any pressure on her at all...
For anything," he added pointedly.
"I know," Constance said, "but
when people say—and everybody
said it this morning — 'Where's
Anne? I thought she was home,
what am I going to answer?"
"Answer, 'She is, and stop there
Our whole congregation exercise
freedom of choice about attending
services. Why shouldn't she?"
Constance made no reply. Barth
was proving a great deal more
tolerant in his acceptance of
Anne's attitude than she had anticipated. 

Then her husband's friendly resonant 
tones rang out on the sum=
mer sir.
"Good morning, neighbors! Is
this a convenient time for us to
offer you a welcome to our town?"
Virginia, looking up at the
sound of the Parson's call, spoke
in a low voice to Philip. "This is
it, my love. Get pious." The next
moment she had lifted herself from
the rattan chair in which she was
reclining and had moved forward
across the lawn with one hand extended 
and the newspaper tucked
under her other arm.
"What a pleasure!" she said,
forcing her voice to a note of
polite sincerity. "Philip, bring another 
chair from the porch. Oh,
you must sit down for a moment,
at least. Don has been telling us
about you, and we've been looking
forward—" She broke off to glance
up at a window overhead. "Don!
Are you there? Dr. and Mrs. Atwood 
have come to see us."
"Be right down!" Don called.
"Now we don't mean to disturb
anybody," Barth began, but Virginia 
protested that they weren't
at all, and in a moment the four
of them were seated under the
heavy foliage of a vine.
"Beautiful, this wisteria," Barth
said, his eyes travelling over it.
"You missed it at its loveliest,
however. Wait until next April
or May. You'll see purple sprays
as long as my arm. Simply beautiful." 

He was speaking with his usual
gracious case. Was it possible he
did not feel, as Constance did, a
faint mockery, an undercurrent of
resentment beneath the courtesy of
these strangers?
Her eyes moved from one to
the other as they talked. Virginia
a woman probably in her early
forties, was wearing with complete
unconsciousness or indifference—or
both—her favorite outfit, a navy
slack suit. Soiled white sneakers
were on her feet, and a multicolored 
bandana was twisted carelessly 
about her head. From beneath
this, above her shrewd good-humored 
eyes, a fuzzy pompon of
gray curls bobbed, and dangling
silver earrings swung with every
motion she made. Her husband,
more ponderous than she in speech
and movement, was barefoot: while
his shirt, which he had hastily
buttoned across a hairy chest at
their approach, hung outside of
his creaseless khaki shorts.
Constance said, "Are you beginning 
to feel at home yet. Mrs.
Moore? Have you — an — found
everything finally?" And then, before 
Virginia's sharp knowledgeable 
look, she could have bitten
her tongue out. But the accusation 
fell.
"You heard us."
Barth said quickly, "Certainly
we heard you. How could we help
it? Although, actually, we didn't
try very hard not to. We even

can so feel you were, perhaps,
putting on a show for our particular 
benefit."
Virginia's glance turned in faint
suspicious toward the Parson. But
his expression was blandly innocent. 

"Perhaps I should explain," he
went on. "You do all your living
on the south side, as we do. However, 
we have an advantage over
you for we can keep out of sight
and sound with our house between
us and you. You aren't so fortunate. 
From our kitchen and dining 
room windows on the north we
can stand unobserved and see all,
hear all, know all." He lifted an
interrogative eyebrow while Constance 
sat frozen and Philip and
Virginia stared. "I suppose we
should have come over and told
you this sooner? We debated the
matter, but, I must confess, we
were enjoying our front row seats
too greatly. We didn't want the
curtain rung down. I think I have
never known a moving-in to be accomplished 
with so much—shall I
say—gusto?"
After a second of surprised silence, 
Virginia burst into hearty
laughter. "Don told us," she murmured. 
And then, "Philip, did you
hear what he said?"
Philip, who had dropped crosslegged 
on the grass, took his pipe
from his mouth and fixed his expressionless 
stare on the Parson.
Squatting who had dropped crosslegged 
on the grass, took his pipe
from his mouth and fixed his expressionless 
stare on the Parson.
Squatting like that, Constance
thought, and so huge and with
those round brown eyes and his
bald head, he looks like a Buddha.
But he was speaking.
"We've been spied on. And by a
minister. Brother! I can hardly
believe it." He bent forward and
reached out a big brown hand to
Barth. "Let me, again." He shook
hands gravely. "And now tell me,
do you commit any other mortal
sins?"
"Oh, my, yes," Barth was getting 
into stride. "We steal."
"Steal?"
He nodded. "All of us. Includeing 
my daughter. In fact, I encourage 
her in it. I send her out
in the dark to do it. You'll see
her in the fall, creeping around on
here knees on our driveway picking
up the apples that fall from your
trees. As neighbors," he went on
cheerfully, "we many prove to be
quite, obnoxious. Although I do
believe it's a most question
whether that is actual thievery.
After all, if you can't keep you
apples on your own place, is it
our fault? But I never cared to
investigate the legality of the matter 
because they cook up into such
delicious applesauce" He nodded
toward Virginia. "I'll bring you
over some later on. I make it—
create it, I mean, because I consider 
that I am a culinary artist—
since my wife doesn't care about
the kitchen. Her greatest pleasure
lies in getting out of it."

Returning to the Manse at Crestwood
after four years absence at college Anne
Atwood, the Parson's daughter is highly
discontent. She  for and unconventions 
life a touch of gaiety luxury ease
Joe Mellick, the town's rich show of bachelor 
had already  to won Anne out he
 not the type easily to win a girl's trust
 has m, Donald Kent a newly appointed 
teacher at the Crestwood 
school she while he, too, they to 
her Anne discourages his attentions be
 loathes his pemirious 
 Kent and his sister. Virginia
Mass,  her husband. Philip have society 
moved next to the Manse. These
gas fun-loving Moores stand a little to
 of their church neighbor.
VIRGINIA'S deep laugh was
heard body shook soundlessly. Suddenly, 
Constance realized, the atmosphere 
had changed— why didn't
she trust her husband more?—
while Donald coming across the
perch to join them, knew a vaulting 
triumph which considering
how little acquainted he was with
the Atwoods, was amazing to him.
But, reasonable or not, he exulted
over the immediate or not, he exulted
complete conquest made by the
Parson as if it were something he
himself had accomplished.
"What goes on?" he asked
pushing through the screened door.
"Your friend of the cloth," Philip
answered "has just proved himself 
human. Possessed of the same
 as common man and—"
Virginia, who had been watching
Donald's face, interrupted. "Don!
You told him!"
"This young man," Barta said,
before Donald could answer, "came
over to borrow a hammer one day,
I took him to the kitchen where,
occasionally, it is mislaid by my
wife—you see, Mr. Moore you are
not the only one who suffers in
the matter of lost articles. While
there a feeling of guilt overcame
me an I took the trouble to point
out to Donald the very excellent
view afforded us from our windows
of your lawn and your porch and
your living room. As I recall
there was at the time, a slight
altercation going on over here. It
was clearly audible. I suggested
that perhaps you would like to
know. And he said, if I remember
correctly. Don't worry. They
know, all right. Shouldn't he have
said that?" he finished anxiously
"I do hope it was all right. It
seemed to—well, to sanction our
—I don't know whether to call it
curiously or eavesdropping."
Donald blue laughter-filled eyes
met his sister's. "Fess up, Ginny.
They have Now it's your turn."
"I'm embarrassed," she said
frankly. "But—gripping my courage 
with both hands as the saying
goes—here's the truth. We meant
to shock you. We hoped to shock
you."
"But why?" Constance exclaimed. 

"Because they didn't want us to
come over of course," Barth answered 
quickly with a quizzical
quick of one eyebrow in Virginia's
direction. Am I right? Wasn't
that it?"
Virginia had the grace to color.
"But now let me explain, she
begged." It was because we wanted 
you to understand at once that
we are not church people. We
never go. Never at all. And we
don't expect to begin." She paused
a moment: then, with a directness
both Constance and Barth respected 
she added. "Perhaps I should
say we very definitely don't want
to begin: Now have I shocked you
Dr. Alwood?"
"Not at all," came his equable
reply. "There are many people
like you, No better and no worse
than the rest of us." he stopped
as a squirrel hopped toward his
foot. "I declare, this looks like
my pet calling on you too...But
getting back to what we were
saying, he went, on, serious for
the first time since his arrival. "I
don't go around trying to sell religion. 
The church is here. I am
here, for anyone who wants us."
His warm sweet smile lightened
his face as he glanced around at
all of them and concluded. "I think
we can be very good neighbors,
whether you go to my church or
to any church for that matter, or
whether you don't. That was my
sole idea in calling. I might add—
to establish neighborly contact. To
let you know that as human beings 
we are friendly."
Then he made a quickly turn to
lightness again.
"I only hope your won't complain
of us as the last people did who
live here—I'm going to tell this
Constance. They're gone and no
harm can be done—they didn't like
it because I did not keep the bank
clippled above our driveway. It's
out bank I admit. You see the apple
trees from which we steal. But
the point is the bank grows wild
flowers Daniels and goldenrod and
lupine. And I hated to have them
mowed down chiefly because the
grass will never be good there
without a lot of care and expense,
neither of which I can afford to
give. Now I'm wondering if you
are going to complain about that
bank. It's good to get these little
matters between us clear at the
start. I think don't you? So suppose 
you tell me just exactly what
your attitude is going to be?"
The bold demanding thrust of
his question, to which there could
of course be but one answer, delighted 
Virginia. Everything about
him delighted her. What delicate
frankness he had shown, she
though. And liberality.
It was at this moment that
Anne wearing a faded blue-denim
smock over matching blue slacks
which she had rolled to her knees,
and with a trowel in her hand
rounded the corner of the Manse
veranda in a dash to the front
door. At sight of her parents she
stopped short.
"So there's where you are!" she
oried. "Don't you people know it's
past one o'clock? And I, for one
am starving."
Virginia called back, "Don't try

to take them away. Come over
and join us. We're having a wonderful 
time."
Anne hesitated and for a second
her targile slenderness together
with her uncertainty, made her
seem. Constance thought, vaguely
lost and terribly vulnerable. But
the next moment her buoyant
voice belied the notion.
"If you don't mind how I look?
Because!'" And, still holding her
trowel, she came running, with her
lovely fluid grace over to them.
The next hour became a memory 
Constance long enjoyed. It
was the starting point of a relationship 
between the two houses
that enmeshed them all and that,
in time, drew in not only the Parson's 
church but the whole town.
"Now," said Virginia, when
Anne had settled herself on a
cushion on the ground with her
back against a tree. "Now I'll call
Mary and we'll see about lunch."
"Oh no!" Constance protested
quickly. "We mustn't. Really!
That's too much."
"Nonsense" Virginia lifted her
great warm voice and summoned
an invisible Mary. "We'll simply
have a picnic. It's our usual routine 
on days like this and it'll be
very easy. Mary"—she turned toward 
the woman who had emerged
from the kitchen—"these are our
neighbors. Dr. and Mrs. Atwood
and Miss Anne Atwood. Dr. Atwood 
is the minister of the little
church across the street."
Mary murmuring, "Yes'm," and,
"How do, suh...Miz Atwood...
Miss Atwood..." respectfully
bobbed a grizzled head while the
broad calm of her brown face registered 
whole souled approval. Her
ample figure in her crisp and correct 
blue unform, white apron,
and white cap was something of
a surprise to Constance, and sensing 
this Virginia quickly explained. 

"Mary is an inheritance. She
came to us with Donald and has
beem with us ever since. But she
was born in the south and lived
there until she was twenty—is that
right. Mary?—And none of our
haphazard ways have changed
her." Her earrings swayed as she
looked up at her faithful servant
and friend with real affection in
her glance.
"I wish I had a Mary!" Constance 
exclaimed.
"Mary has a son in the United
States Army. A Captain," Virginia 
went on. "Captain Sam
Mapes."
"Is that so?" Barth's face expressed 
his genuine interest and
pleasure in this statement. "That's
something to be proud of."
"Yes, suh,  is proud."
"Well now about lunch Mary—"
"Chicken sandwiches and green
salad, all awaitin Ma'am."
Virginia hesitated looked toward 
the Parson. "Ginger ale?"
"Gin ale is very popular with
us, he said.


CHAPTER EIGHT
by: ALICE ROSS COLVER
Copyright, 1951, Alice Ross Calvar.
Distributed by King Features Syndicate
Returning to the Manse at Crestwood
after four years absence at college. Anna
Atwood, the Parson's danger, is highly
tent. She  for an unconventional 
use, a touch of gaiety, luxury, case.
See  the town's rich show-off bachelor, 
and already tried to woo Anne, but no
is not the type easily to win a girl's trust.
She has  Donald Kent, a newly appointed 
teacher at the Crestwood sign
school and while he, too, tries to court
her  discourages his attentions because 
she loathes his urious teaching
profession.
"DO YOU think now would be
in good time to visit our new neighbors?" 
Barth asked.
"I think so, yes," Constance replied. 
"They're just siting out
there under their wisteria vine
sending the Sunday paper."
The Parson glanced down at his
black gown which he was carrying
over his arm on his way up the
driveway to the Manse from the
morning service. He was filled with
a benign contentment ove the
hour just passed. Anne may not
have been present with her mother 
but he was not worried about
her. He knew her filial loyalty to
him and her strong sense she was
passing way natural. If it should
create temporarily a little adverse
comment, he believed he could
handle it. He did not think it
would be a serious matter. He
trusted his congregation as well
as he trusted his daughter. Standing 
above them this morning, he
had left flowing between him and
them a strong, invisible tide of
great and deep affection. They
trust him, too, he thought now.
It was a beautiful feeling for a
beautiful summer morning.
"I wouldn't want them to think
I was drumming up trade," he
said, lowering his voice.
"Oh, well, I don't believe—"
"I mean to say I don't want my
appearance at this moment to
seem like a reproof to them. After
all, they may belong to another
church.
Just the same, we'd better go
now." Constance decided. "They've
been here nearly a week and we'll
seem unfriendly if we don't. I
only wish Anne were with us,"
she added, thinking of Donald.
Anne had not been nice to Donald,
and he was really a fine young
man.
"We'll have to let Anne alone,"
the Parson returned. "We can't
 any pressure on her at all...
For anything," he added pointedly.
"I know," Constance said, "but
when people say—and everybody
said it this morning — 'Where's
Anne? I thought she was home,
what am I going to answer?"
"Answer, 'She is, and stop there
Our whole congregation exercise
freedom of choice about attending
services. Why shouldn't she?"
Constance made no reply. Barth
was proving a great deal more
tolerant in his acceptance of
Anne's attitude than she had anticipated. 

Then her husband's friendly resonant 
tones rang out on the sum=
mer sir.
"Good morning, neighbors! Is
this a convenient time for us to
offer you a welcome to our town?"
Virginia, looking up at the
sound of the Parson's call, spoke
in a low voice to Philip. "This is
it, my love. Get pious." The next
moment she had lifted herself from
the rattan chair in which she was
reclining and had moved forward
across the lawn with one hand extended 
and the newspaper tucked
under her other arm.
"What a pleasure!" she said,
forcing her voice to a note of
polite sincerity. "Philip, bring another 
chair from the porch. Oh,
you must sit down for a moment,
at least. Don has been telling us
about you, and we've been looking
forward—" She broke off to glance
up at a window overhead. "Don!
Are you there? Dr. and Mrs. Atwood 
have come to see us."
"Be right down!" Don called.
"Now we don't mean to disturb
anybody," Barth began, but Virginia 
protested that they weren't
at all, and in a moment the four
of them were seated under the
heavy foliage of a vine.
"Beautiful, this wisteria," Barth
said, his eyes travelling over it.
"You missed it at its loveliest,
however. Wait until next April
or May. You'll see purple sprays
as long as my arm. Simply beautiful." 

He was speaking with his usual
gracious case. Was it possible he
did not feel, as Constance did, a
faint mockery, an undercurrent of
resentment beneath the courtesy of
these strangers?
Her eyes moved from one to
the other as they talked. Virginia
a woman probably in her early
forties, was wearing with complete
unconsciousness or indifference—or
both—her favorite outfit, a navy
slack suit. Soiled white sneakers
were on her feet, and a multicolored 
bandana was twisted carelessly 
about her head. From beneath
this, above her shrewd good-humored 
eyes, a fuzzy pompon of
gray curls bobbed, and dangling
silver earrings swung with every
motion she made. Her husband,
more ponderous than she in speech
and movement, was barefoot: while
his shirt, which he had hastily
buttoned across a hairy chest at
their approach, hung outside of
his creaseless khaki shorts.
Constance said, "Are you beginning 
to feel at home yet. Mrs.
Moore? Have you — an — found
everything finally?" And then, before 
Virginia's sharp knowledgeable 
look, she could have bitten
her tongue out. But the accusation 
fell.
"You heard us."
Barth said quickly, "Certainly
we heard you. How could we help
it? Although, actually, we didn't
try very hard not to. We even

can so feel you were, perhaps,
putting on a show for our particular 
benefit."
Virginia's glance turned in faint
suspicious toward the Parson. But
his expression was blandly innocent. 

"Perhaps I should explain," he
went on. "You do all your living
on the south side, as we do. However, 
we have an advantage over
you for we can keep out of sight
and sound with our house between
us and you. You aren't so fortunate. 
From our kitchen and dining 
room windows on the north we
can stand unobserved and see all,
hear all, know all." He lifted an
interrogative eyebrow while Constance 
sat frozen and Philip and
Virginia stared. "I suppose we
should have come over and told
you this sooner? We debated the
matter, but, I must confess, we
were enjoying our front row seats
too greatly. We didn't want the
curtain rung down. I think I have
never known a moving-in to be accomplished 
with so much—shall I
say—gusto?"
After a second of surprised silence, 
Virginia burst into hearty
laughter. "Don told us," she murmured. 
And then, "Philip, did you
hear what he said?"
Philip, who had dropped crosslegged 
on the grass, took his pipe
from his mouth and fixed his expressionless 
stare on the Parson.
Squatting who had dropped crosslegged 
on the grass, took his pipe
from his mouth and fixed his expressionless 
stare on the Parson.
Squatting like that, Constance
thought, and so huge and with
those round brown eyes and his
bald head, he looks like a Buddha.
But he was speaking.
"We've been spied on. And by a
minister. Brother! I can hardly
believe it." He bent forward and
reached out a big brown hand to
Barth. "Let me, again." He shook
hands gravely. "And now tell me,
do you commit any other mortal
sins?"
"Oh, my, yes," Barth was getting 
into stride. "We steal."
"Steal?"
He nodded. "All of us. Includeing 
my daughter. In fact, I encourage 
her in it. I send her out
in the dark to do it. You'll see
her in the fall, creeping around on
here knees on our driveway picking
up the apples that fall from your
trees. As neighbors," he went on
cheerfully, "we many prove to be
quite, obnoxious. Although I do
believe it's a most question
whether that is actual thievery.
After all, if you can't keep you
apples on your own place, is it
our fault? But I never cared to
investigate the legality of the matter 
because they cook up into such
delicious applesauce" He nodded
toward Virginia. "I'll bring you
over some later on. I make it—
create it, I mean, because I consider 
that I am a culinary artist—
since my wife doesn't care about
the kitchen. Her greatest pleasure
lies in getting out of it."

Returning to the Manse at Crestwood
after four years absence at college Anne
Atwood, the Parson's daughter is highly
discontent. She  for and unconventions 
life a touch of gaiety luxury ease
Joe Mellick, the town's rich show of bachelor 
had already  to won Anne out he
 not the type easily to win a girl's trust
 has m, Donald Kent a newly appointed 
teacher at the Crestwood 
school she while he, too, they to 
her Anne discourages his attentions be
 loathes his pemirious 
 Kent and his sister. Virginia
Mass,  her husband. Philip have society 
moved next to the Manse. These
gas fun-loving Moores stand a little to
 of their church neighbor.
VIRGINIA'S deep laugh was
heard body shook soundlessly. Suddenly, 
Constance realized, the atmosphere 
had changed— why didn't
she trust her husband more?—
while Donald coming across the
perch to join them, knew a vaulting 
triumph which considering
how little acquainted he was with
the Atwoods, was amazing to him.
But, reasonable or not, he exulted
over the immediate or not, he exulted
complete conquest made by the
Parson as if it were something he
himself had accomplished.
"What goes on?" he asked
pushing through the screened door.
"Your friend of the cloth," Philip
answered "has just proved himself 
human. Possessed of the same
 as common man and—"
Virginia, who had been watching
Donald's face, interrupted. "Don!
You told him!"
"This young man," Barta said,
before Donald could answer, "came
over to borrow a hammer one day,
I took him to the kitchen where,
occasionally, it is mislaid by my
wife—you see, Mr. Moore you are
not the only one who suffers in
the matter of lost articles. While
there a feeling of guilt overcame
me an I took the trouble to point
out to Donald the very excellent
view afforded us from our windows
of your lawn and your porch and
your living room. As I recall
there was at the time, a slight
altercation going on over here. It
was clearly audible. I suggested
that perhaps you would like to
know. And he said, if I remember
correctly. Don't worry. They
know, all right. Shouldn't he have
said that?" he finished anxiously
"I do hope it was all right. It
seemed to—well, to sanction our
—I don't know whether to call it
curiously or eavesdropping."
Donald blue laughter-filled eyes
met his sister's. "Fess up, Ginny.
They have Now it's your turn."
"I'm embarrassed," she said
frankly. "But—gripping my courage 
with both hands as the saying
goes—here's the truth. We meant
to shock you. We hoped to shock
you."
"But why?" Constance exclaimed. 

"Because they didn't want us to
come over of course," Barth answered 
quickly with a quizzical
quick of one eyebrow in Virginia's
direction. Am I right? Wasn't
that it?"
Virginia had the grace to color.
"But now let me explain, she
begged." It was because we wanted 
you to understand at once that
we are not church people. We
never go. Never at all. And we
don't expect to begin." She paused
a moment: then, with a directness
both Constance and Barth respected 
she added. "Perhaps I should
say we very definitely don't want
to begin: Now have I shocked you
Dr. Alwood?"
"Not at all," came his equable
reply. "There are many people
like you, No better and no worse
than the rest of us." he stopped
as a squirrel hopped toward his
foot. "I declare, this looks like
my pet calling on you too...But
getting back to what we were
saying, he went, on, serious for
the first time since his arrival. "I
don't go around trying to sell religion. 
The church is here. I am
here, for anyone who wants us."
His warm sweet smile lightened
his face as he glanced around at
all of them and concluded. "I think
we can be very good neighbors,
whether you go to my church or
to any church for that matter, or
whether you don't. That was my
sole idea in calling. I might add—
to establish neighborly contact. To
let you know that as human beings 
we are friendly."
Then he made a quickly turn to
lightness again.
"I only hope your won't complain
of us as the last people did who
live here—I'm going to tell this
Constance. They're gone and no
harm can be done—they didn't like
it because I did not keep the bank
clippled above our driveway. It's
out bank I admit. You see the apple
trees from which we steal. But
the point is the bank grows wild
flowers Daniels and goldenrod and
lupine. And I hated to have them
mowed down chiefly because the
grass will never be good there
without a lot of care and expense,
neither of which I can afford to
give. Now I'm wondering if you
are going to complain about that
bank. It's good to get these little
matters between us clear at the
start. I think don't you? So suppose 
you tell me just exactly what
your attitude is going to be?"
The bold demanding thrust of
his question, to which there could
of course be but one answer, delighted 
Virginia. Everything about
him delighted her. What delicate
frankness he had shown, she
though. And liberality.
It was at this moment that
Anne wearing a faded blue-denim
smock over matching blue slacks
which she had rolled to her knees,
and with a trowel in her hand
rounded the corner of the Manse
veranda in a dash to the front
door. At sight of her parents she
stopped short.
"So there's where you are!" she
oried. "Don't you people know it's
past one o'clock? And I, for one
am starving."
Virginia called back, "Don't try

to take them away. Come over
and join us. We're having a wonderful 
time."
Anne hesitated and for a second
her targile slenderness together
with her uncertainty, made her
seem. Constance thought, vaguely
lost and terribly vulnerable. But
the next moment her buoyant
voice belied the notion.
"If you don't mind how I look?
Because!'" And, still holding her
trowel, she came running, with her
lovely fluid grace over to them.
The next hour became a memory 
Constance long enjoyed. It
was the starting point of a relationship 
between the two houses
that enmeshed them all and that,
in time, drew in not only the Parson's 
church but the whole town.
"Now," said Virginia, when
Anne had settled herself on a
cushion on the ground with her
back against a tree. "Now I'll call
Mary and we'll see about lunch."
"Oh no!" Constance protested
quickly. "We mustn't. Really!
That's too much."
"Nonsense" Virginia lifted her
great warm voice and summoned
an invisible Mary. "We'll simply
have a picnic. It's our usual routine 
on days like this and it'll be
very easy. Mary"—she turned toward 
the woman who had emerged
from the kitchen—"these are our
neighbors. Dr. and Mrs. Atwood
and Miss Anne Atwood. Dr. Atwood 
is the minister of the little
church across the street."
Mary murmuring, "Yes'm," and,
"How do, suh...Miz Atwood...
Miss Atwood..." respectfully
bobbed a grizzled head while the
broad calm of her brown face registered 
whole souled approval. Her
ample figure in her crisp and correct 
blue unform, white apron,
and white cap was something of
a surprise to Constance, and sensing 
this Virginia quickly explained. 

"Mary is an inheritance. She
came to us with Donald and has
beem with us ever since. But she
was born in the south and lived
there until she was twenty—is that
right. Mary?—And none of our
haphazard ways have changed
her." Her earrings swayed as she
looked up at her faithful servant
and friend with real affection in
her glance.
"I wish I had a Mary!" Constance 
exclaimed.
"Mary has a son in the United
States Army. A Captain," Virginia 
went on. "Captain Sam
Mapes."
"Is that so?" Barth's face expressed 
his genuine interest and
pleasure in this statement. "That's
something to be proud of."
"Yes, suh,  is proud."
"Well now about lunch Mary—"
"Chicken sandwiches and green
salad, all awaitin Ma'am."
Virginia hesitated looked toward 
the Parson. "Ginger ale?"
"Gin ale is very popular with
us, he said.


Atlantans Organize
Gladys Knight Club
ATLANTA. Ga. — (SNS) —

This Art Club presented Gladys
in her first recital when a capacity
audience heard her sing a full hour.
The first members and organizers
of The Gladys Knight Fan Club are
the College Art Club, Marshall
Turner, president; Miss Minerva
Holloway, Secretary; Mrs. Hanleys
Little School with Little Miss Lillian 
Goodwin and Carolyn Martin,
representatives; TV Atlanta Boys
Choir, with David Hodges and J.
Russell Simmons, Jr., representatives. 

Posters are out and these three
groups are working hard to perfect
the organization.
The Fan Club officers are: Mrs.
Ruth Hall Hodges, (RA. 4564), and
Mrs. Ruth S. Simmons, (RA. 3268),
sponsors; Miss Willie Mae Green,
Senior Class of Morris Brown, President 
Miss Gracie Thomas, Morris
Brown, vice president; Mrs. Annie
Fisher, Morris Brown, secretary.
The Fan Club membership to date
is 578 members. The duty of each
member is to pledge to urge 50 peo
ple 
by telephone or otherwise regardless 
of race, color or creed, to
see the shows on which Gladys apwars 
and send in their votes. Fan
Club members are all about town
now, seeking more members and
working on their pledges.
The aim is 1000 members of the
Fan Club all working hard by next
Tuesday.
You are hereby invited to join the
Club. All you do is get the spirit
first, and then get at least 50 people 
to assure you that they will see
the Ted Mack show next Tuesday
night, and that they will send in
their vote AT ONCE, TODAY, for
this week's show.
The Fan Club members must see
that every school child in Atlanta
who heard Gladys last night sends
in a vote. The Club will furnish
cards to all who need them.
Gladys is trying now for her third
win. We can't let her fail to get it
She has done too well, but only our
vote mailed in will assure her of it,
we must not fail her. Mail all cards
to Old Gold.

A TRIP TO VENICE

Venice is indeed a very lovely city.
It is not only lovely, but it is different 
from any other city that you
have ever seen. Just one Venice in
all the world and you must go there
to see it for yourself in order to
appreciate and understand it.
Venice is one of the old cities
going back to Roman days. To keep
from being easily attacked and
conquered by foreign invaders, the
early settlers of Venice built their

homes in the marshy regions near
the Adriatic Sea with water all
around them.
Venice is built on about a hundred 
(100) small Islands joined together 
by nearly four hundred (400)
bridges, and one hundred and fifty
(150) canals. There is one big Grand
Canal that runs through the entire
city. These smallers canals take the
place of streets to connect, the business 
and residential sections of

the town.
The early settlers started building 
Venice in to a village arid community 
centuries before the coming
of Jesus Christ. In 697 A. D. their
organized government selected their
first DOGE or ruler. By the year
800 A. D., six thousand (5,000)
people were living there. By 880 A.
D. the population increased to 15,000; 
and by 1000 A. D., the population 
of Venice was 25,000 people.
By this time all passenger and
goods traffic between Europe and
the Orient was in the hands of the
Venetians. There was no competition, 
so they could ask and demand
high prices for their trade. Land
journeys took months and were
dangerous. Goods leaving the Orient
for Europe would never reach their
destination crossing the Balkans
because of the numerous, bandits.
Thus, anyone possessing a galley
boat or a good ship in Venice became 
incredibly rich within a few
short years. Gold coins of every
country flowed into the pockets and
purses of the Venetians The merchants 
made fortunes rapidly. They
began to build palaces on every
square inch of land between the
waters of the canals. Those few unhealthy 
and muddy islands were
soon transformed into the biggest,
most fabulous and most romantic
Emporium of all Europe. Churches,
Palaces, loggias, Porticos of grandeur 
began to appear. The overseas
dominion of the Venetians became
suddenly awesome. The whole
Eastern Coast, of the Adriatic Sea
ivas in their power. Venetian fleets
reached Greece and conquered her
ports. Masters of the Adriatic, they
set about to conquer Oriental trade.
Thus the history of Venice became
one long, monotonous Catalogue of
Conquests, Venice having rid herself 
of the danger from the mainland, 
having also consolidated her
internal regime, she found herself,
about the year 1000 A. D., the only
city on the Adriatic Sea in possession 
of a vast merchant, war, and
fishing fleet. She was now able to
join the Italian mainland with the
fabulous Oriental Markets. Brocades, 
Jewel, spices, ivory, persian
carpet, woods, from the Lebanon
and other rich treasurers from the
east began to reach her markets.
It happened, therefore, that every
merchant returning from adventures 
and good business in the Orient, 
with a ship full of gold, marbles, 
and statutes brought from
Constantinople and the East,
thought it to be his precise duty to
order to construction ot a palace
bigger and more beautiful than his
business rival, and to adorn it with
the exotic architectural spoils and
souvenirs. This grotesque and magnificent 
competition of palaces laid
the foundation for the building of
Venice the world's wonder city.
Along the whole Grand Canal,
palaces overladden with marbles,
decorations, coasts-of-arms, small
colums, painted windows, line up,
one after another, one more stupendous 
than the other. The space,
which once seemed in exhaustible,
soon became overcrowded so the
Grand Canal, became ah uninterrupted 
succession of facades and
beautiful buildings. And from this
sprang that colorful inspiration of
the Venitian Art of the Fifteenth
Century.
Today, about 3,000,000 people live
in Venice, a fairy land, where
tourists from all over the world
come to visit and to enjoy a delight
that took the citizens of this
strange city two thousand years to
produce.
All travel to the city of Venice
is done by water. No motor cars are
seen or used in Venice. Motor
boats, with seating capacity for a
hundred people run regularly and
on schedule time through the canals 
of Venice. Passengers wait at
the stations just like they do for
subway trains. The conductors take
your ticket and put you off just
like they do on Metropolitan street
cars. Freight barges unload their
wares from boats instead of trucks,
Even the fire department has water 
boats built for the purpose of
fighting fires along the canals.
Thousands of Gondolas move up
and down the many canals with
visitors and pleasure seekers enjoying 
the waters that run thru the
streets of Venice.
On seeing Piazza San Marco for
the first time, Napoleon exclaimed
with admiration—"My! but it is the
most beautiful drawing room in
Europe."
This square or Piazzo or St.
Marks is just in front of the beau
tiful 
Catholic Cathedral of St.
Marks, one of the most beautiful in
all the world. St. Marks Cathedral
is not one of the world's largest
edifices, but it is undoubtedly one
of the three or four finest and most
beautiful in all the world It is
named for the disciple St. Mark,
whose body was brought to Venice
and buried in this church.
The construction of Piazzo San
Marco took a thousand years, from
the beginning of the year 800 to the
beginning of 1800 A. D., and even
now one cannot say that it has
been entirely, finished. Perhaps this
is the only square, in all the world,
in which wou see no vehicles. You
see no carriages nor automobiles
moving there. Hundreds and thousands 
of pigeons fly all around you
every day. The people feed them
grain purchased from the vendors.
The pigeons are so tame that they
will eat the grain right but of your
hands.
The buildings around this square
are monumental and massive; and
yet, they are not boring, because
they are different from one another, 
and because they are all
master pieces of architecture. The
Ducal Palace, the seat of the Venetian 
government, is also one of the
show places about the square of St.
Marks. They also have wonderful
manufacturing plants and glass exhibits 
all around the square. Venice
is famous for its fine glass factories. 
It is well worth a trip to Venice 
just to see the fine buildings,
the beautiful canals, and above all,
to spend one hour in the lovely
square of St Marks.

OVERCROWDED

Venice is indeed a very lovely city.
It is not only lovely, but it is different 
from any other city that you
have ever seen. Just one Venice in
all the world and you must go there
to see it for yourself in order to
appreciate and understand it.
Venice is one of the old cities
going back to Roman days. To keep
from being easily attacked and
conquered by foreign invaders, the
early settlers of Venice built their

homes in the marshy regions near
the Adriatic Sea with water all
around them.
Venice is built on about a hundred 
(100) small Islands joined together 
by nearly four hundred (400)
bridges, and one hundred and fifty
(150) canals. There is one big Grand
Canal that runs through the entire
city. These smallers canals take the
place of streets to connect, the business 
and residential sections of

the town.
The early settlers started building 
Venice in to a village arid community 
centuries before the coming
of Jesus Christ. In 697 A. D. their
organized government selected their
first DOGE or ruler. By the year
800 A. D., six thousand (5,000)
people were living there. By 880 A.
D. the population increased to 15,000; 
and by 1000 A. D., the population 
of Venice was 25,000 people.
By this time all passenger and
goods traffic between Europe and
the Orient was in the hands of the
Venetians. There was no competition, 
so they could ask and demand
high prices for their trade. Land
journeys took months and were
dangerous. Goods leaving the Orient
for Europe would never reach their
destination crossing the Balkans
because of the numerous, bandits.
Thus, anyone possessing a galley
boat or a good ship in Venice became 
incredibly rich within a few
short years. Gold coins of every
country flowed into the pockets and
purses of the Venetians The merchants 
made fortunes rapidly. They
began to build palaces on every
square inch of land between the
waters of the canals. Those few unhealthy 
and muddy islands were
soon transformed into the biggest,
most fabulous and most romantic
Emporium of all Europe. Churches,
Palaces, loggias, Porticos of grandeur 
began to appear. The overseas
dominion of the Venetians became
suddenly awesome. The whole
Eastern Coast, of the Adriatic Sea
ivas in their power. Venetian fleets
reached Greece and conquered her
ports. Masters of the Adriatic, they
set about to conquer Oriental trade.
Thus the history of Venice became
one long, monotonous Catalogue of
Conquests, Venice having rid herself 
of the danger from the mainland, 
having also consolidated her
internal regime, she found herself,
about the year 1000 A. D., the only
city on the Adriatic Sea in possession 
of a vast merchant, war, and
fishing fleet. She was now able to
join the Italian mainland with the
fabulous Oriental Markets. Brocades, 
Jewel, spices, ivory, persian
carpet, woods, from the Lebanon
and other rich treasurers from the
east began to reach her markets.
It happened, therefore, that every
merchant returning from adventures 
and good business in the Orient, 
with a ship full of gold, marbles, 
and statutes brought from
Constantinople and the East,
thought it to be his precise duty to
order to construction ot a palace
bigger and more beautiful than his
business rival, and to adorn it with
the exotic architectural spoils and
souvenirs. This grotesque and magnificent 
competition of palaces laid
the foundation for the building of
Venice the world's wonder city.
Along the whole Grand Canal,
palaces overladden with marbles,
decorations, coasts-of-arms, small
colums, painted windows, line up,
one after another, one more stupendous 
than the other. The space,
which once seemed in exhaustible,
soon became overcrowded so the
Grand Canal, became ah uninterrupted 
succession of facades and
beautiful buildings. And from this
sprang that colorful inspiration of
the Venitian Art of the Fifteenth
Century.
Today, about 3,000,000 people live
in Venice, a fairy land, where
tourists from all over the world
come to visit and to enjoy a delight
that took the citizens of this
strange city two thousand years to
produce.
All travel to the city of Venice
is done by water. No motor cars are
seen or used in Venice. Motor
boats, with seating capacity for a
hundred people run regularly and
on schedule time through the canals 
of Venice. Passengers wait at
the stations just like they do for
subway trains. The conductors take
your ticket and put you off just
like they do on Metropolitan street
cars. Freight barges unload their
wares from boats instead of trucks,
Even the fire department has water 
boats built for the purpose of
fighting fires along the canals.
Thousands of Gondolas move up
and down the many canals with
visitors and pleasure seekers enjoying 
the waters that run thru the
streets of Venice.
On seeing Piazza San Marco for
the first time, Napoleon exclaimed
with admiration—"My! but it is the
most beautiful drawing room in
Europe."
This square or Piazzo or St.
Marks is just in front of the beau
tiful 
Catholic Cathedral of St.
Marks, one of the most beautiful in
all the world. St. Marks Cathedral
is not one of the world's largest
edifices, but it is undoubtedly one
of the three or four finest and most
beautiful in all the world It is
named for the disciple St. Mark,
whose body was brought to Venice
and buried in this church.
The construction of Piazzo San
Marco took a thousand years, from
the beginning of the year 800 to the
beginning of 1800 A. D., and even
now one cannot say that it has
been entirely, finished. Perhaps this
is the only square, in all the world,
in which wou see no vehicles. You
see no carriages nor automobiles
moving there. Hundreds and thousands 
of pigeons fly all around you
every day. The people feed them
grain purchased from the vendors.
The pigeons are so tame that they
will eat the grain right but of your
hands.
The buildings around this square
are monumental and massive; and
yet, they are not boring, because
they are different from one another, 
and because they are all
master pieces of architecture. The
Ducal Palace, the seat of the Venetian 
government, is also one of the
show places about the square of St.
Marks. They also have wonderful
manufacturing plants and glass exhibits 
all around the square. Venice
is famous for its fine glass factories. 
It is well worth a trip to Venice 
just to see the fine buildings,
the beautiful canals, and above all,
to spend one hour in the lovely
square of St Marks.

MOTOR BOATS AND GONDOLAS

Venice is indeed a very lovely city.
It is not only lovely, but it is different 
from any other city that you
have ever seen. Just one Venice in
all the world and you must go there
to see it for yourself in order to
appreciate and understand it.
Venice is one of the old cities
going back to Roman days. To keep
from being easily attacked and
conquered by foreign invaders, the
early settlers of Venice built their

homes in the marshy regions near
the Adriatic Sea with water all
around them.
Venice is built on about a hundred 
(100) small Islands joined together 
by nearly four hundred (400)
bridges, and one hundred and fifty
(150) canals. There is one big Grand
Canal that runs through the entire
city. These smallers canals take the
place of streets to connect, the business 
and residential sections of

the town.
The early settlers started building 
Venice in to a village arid community 
centuries before the coming
of Jesus Christ. In 697 A. D. their
organized government selected their
first DOGE or ruler. By the year
800 A. D., six thousand (5,000)
people were living there. By 880 A.
D. the population increased to 15,000; 
and by 1000 A. D., the population 
of Venice was 25,000 people.
By this time all passenger and
goods traffic between Europe and
the Orient was in the hands of the
Venetians. There was no competition, 
so they could ask and demand
high prices for their trade. Land
journeys took months and were
dangerous. Goods leaving the Orient
for Europe would never reach their
destination crossing the Balkans
because of the numerous, bandits.
Thus, anyone possessing a galley
boat or a good ship in Venice became 
incredibly rich within a few
short years. Gold coins of every
country flowed into the pockets and
purses of the Venetians The merchants 
made fortunes rapidly. They
began to build palaces on every
square inch of land between the
waters of the canals. Those few unhealthy 
and muddy islands were
soon transformed into the biggest,
most fabulous and most romantic
Emporium of all Europe. Churches,
Palaces, loggias, Porticos of grandeur 
began to appear. The overseas
dominion of the Venetians became
suddenly awesome. The whole
Eastern Coast, of the Adriatic Sea
ivas in their power. Venetian fleets
reached Greece and conquered her
ports. Masters of the Adriatic, they
set about to conquer Oriental trade.
Thus the history of Venice became
one long, monotonous Catalogue of
Conquests, Venice having rid herself 
of the danger from the mainland, 
having also consolidated her
internal regime, she found herself,
about the year 1000 A. D., the only
city on the Adriatic Sea in possession 
of a vast merchant, war, and
fishing fleet. She was now able to
join the Italian mainland with the
fabulous Oriental Markets. Brocades, 
Jewel, spices, ivory, persian
carpet, woods, from the Lebanon
and other rich treasurers from the
east began to reach her markets.
It happened, therefore, that every
merchant returning from adventures 
and good business in the Orient, 
with a ship full of gold, marbles, 
and statutes brought from
Constantinople and the East,
thought it to be his precise duty to
order to construction ot a palace
bigger and more beautiful than his
business rival, and to adorn it with
the exotic architectural spoils and
souvenirs. This grotesque and magnificent 
competition of palaces laid
the foundation for the building of
Venice the world's wonder city.
Along the whole Grand Canal,
palaces overladden with marbles,
decorations, coasts-of-arms, small
colums, painted windows, line up,
one after another, one more stupendous 
than the other. The space,
which once seemed in exhaustible,
soon became overcrowded so the
Grand Canal, became ah uninterrupted 
succession of facades and
beautiful buildings. And from this
sprang that colorful inspiration of
the Venitian Art of the Fifteenth
Century.
Today, about 3,000,000 people live
in Venice, a fairy land, where
tourists from all over the world
come to visit and to enjoy a delight
that took the citizens of this
strange city two thousand years to
produce.
All travel to the city of Venice
is done by water. No motor cars are
seen or used in Venice. Motor
boats, with seating capacity for a
hundred people run regularly and
on schedule time through the canals 
of Venice. Passengers wait at
the stations just like they do for
subway trains. The conductors take
your ticket and put you off just
like they do on Metropolitan street
cars. Freight barges unload their
wares from boats instead of trucks,
Even the fire department has water 
boats built for the purpose of
fighting fires along the canals.
Thousands of Gondolas move up
and down the many canals with
visitors and pleasure seekers enjoying 
the waters that run thru the
streets of Venice.
On seeing Piazza San Marco for
the first time, Napoleon exclaimed
with admiration—"My! but it is the
most beautiful drawing room in
Europe."
This square or Piazzo or St.
Marks is just in front of the beau
tiful 
Catholic Cathedral of St.
Marks, one of the most beautiful in
all the world. St. Marks Cathedral
is not one of the world's largest
edifices, but it is undoubtedly one
of the three or four finest and most
beautiful in all the world It is
named for the disciple St. Mark,
whose body was brought to Venice
and buried in this church.
The construction of Piazzo San
Marco took a thousand years, from
the beginning of the year 800 to the
beginning of 1800 A. D., and even
now one cannot say that it has
been entirely, finished. Perhaps this
is the only square, in all the world,
in which wou see no vehicles. You
see no carriages nor automobiles
moving there. Hundreds and thousands 
of pigeons fly all around you
every day. The people feed them
grain purchased from the vendors.
The pigeons are so tame that they
will eat the grain right but of your
hands.
The buildings around this square
are monumental and massive; and
yet, they are not boring, because
they are different from one another, 
and because they are all
master pieces of architecture. The
Ducal Palace, the seat of the Venetian 
government, is also one of the
show places about the square of St.
Marks. They also have wonderful
manufacturing plants and glass exhibits 
all around the square. Venice
is famous for its fine glass factories. 
It is well worth a trip to Venice 
just to see the fine buildings,
the beautiful canals, and above all,
to spend one hour in the lovely
square of St Marks.

PIAZZA SAN MARCO

Venice is indeed a very lovely city.
It is not only lovely, but it is different 
from any other city that you
have ever seen. Just one Venice in
all the world and you must go there
to see it for yourself in order to
appreciate and understand it.
Venice is one of the old cities
going back to Roman days. To keep
from being easily attacked and
conquered by foreign invaders, the
early settlers of Venice built their

homes in the marshy regions near
the Adriatic Sea with water all
around them.
Venice is built on about a hundred 
(100) small Islands joined together 
by nearly four hundred (400)
bridges, and one hundred and fifty
(150) canals. There is one big Grand
Canal that runs through the entire
city. These smallers canals take the
place of streets to connect, the business 
and residential sections of

the town.
The early settlers started building 
Venice in to a village arid community 
centuries before the coming
of Jesus Christ. In 697 A. D. their
organized government selected their
first DOGE or ruler. By the year
800 A. D., six thousand (5,000)
people were living there. By 880 A.
D. the population increased to 15,000; 
and by 1000 A. D., the population 
of Venice was 25,000 people.
By this time all passenger and
goods traffic between Europe and
the Orient was in the hands of the
Venetians. There was no competition, 
so they could ask and demand
high prices for their trade. Land
journeys took months and were
dangerous. Goods leaving the Orient
for Europe would never reach their
destination crossing the Balkans
because of the numerous, bandits.
Thus, anyone possessing a galley
boat or a good ship in Venice became 
incredibly rich within a few
short years. Gold coins of every
country flowed into the pockets and
purses of the Venetians The merchants 
made fortunes rapidly. They
began to build palaces on every
square inch of land between the
waters of the canals. Those few unhealthy 
and muddy islands were
soon transformed into the biggest,
most fabulous and most romantic
Emporium of all Europe. Churches,
Palaces, loggias, Porticos of grandeur 
began to appear. The overseas
dominion of the Venetians became
suddenly awesome. The whole
Eastern Coast, of the Adriatic Sea
ivas in their power. Venetian fleets
reached Greece and conquered her
ports. Masters of the Adriatic, they
set about to conquer Oriental trade.
Thus the history of Venice became
one long, monotonous Catalogue of
Conquests, Venice having rid herself 
of the danger from the mainland, 
having also consolidated her
internal regime, she found herself,
about the year 1000 A. D., the only
city on the Adriatic Sea in possession 
of a vast merchant, war, and
fishing fleet. She was now able to
join the Italian mainland with the
fabulous Oriental Markets. Brocades, 
Jewel, spices, ivory, persian
carpet, woods, from the Lebanon
and other rich treasurers from the
east began to reach her markets.
It happened, therefore, that every
merchant returning from adventures 
and good business in the Orient, 
with a ship full of gold, marbles, 
and statutes brought from
Constantinople and the East,
thought it to be his precise duty to
order to construction ot a palace
bigger and more beautiful than his
business rival, and to adorn it with
the exotic architectural spoils and
souvenirs. This grotesque and magnificent 
competition of palaces laid
the foundation for the building of
Venice the world's wonder city.
Along the whole Grand Canal,
palaces overladden with marbles,
decorations, coasts-of-arms, small
colums, painted windows, line up,
one after another, one more stupendous 
than the other. The space,
which once seemed in exhaustible,
soon became overcrowded so the
Grand Canal, became ah uninterrupted 
succession of facades and
beautiful buildings. And from this
sprang that colorful inspiration of
the Venitian Art of the Fifteenth
Century.
Today, about 3,000,000 people live
in Venice, a fairy land, where
tourists from all over the world
come to visit and to enjoy a delight
that took the citizens of this
strange city two thousand years to
produce.
All travel to the city of Venice
is done by water. No motor cars are
seen or used in Venice. Motor
boats, with seating capacity for a
hundred people run regularly and
on schedule time through the canals 
of Venice. Passengers wait at
the stations just like they do for
subway trains. The conductors take
your ticket and put you off just
like they do on Metropolitan street
cars. Freight barges unload their
wares from boats instead of trucks,
Even the fire department has water 
boats built for the purpose of
fighting fires along the canals.
Thousands of Gondolas move up
and down the many canals with
visitors and pleasure seekers enjoying 
the waters that run thru the
streets of Venice.
On seeing Piazza San Marco for
the first time, Napoleon exclaimed
with admiration—"My! but it is the
most beautiful drawing room in
Europe."
This square or Piazzo or St.
Marks is just in front of the beau
tiful 
Catholic Cathedral of St.
Marks, one of the most beautiful in
all the world. St. Marks Cathedral
is not one of the world's largest
edifices, but it is undoubtedly one
of the three or four finest and most
beautiful in all the world It is
named for the disciple St. Mark,
whose body was brought to Venice
and buried in this church.
The construction of Piazzo San
Marco took a thousand years, from
the beginning of the year 800 to the
beginning of 1800 A. D., and even
now one cannot say that it has
been entirely, finished. Perhaps this
is the only square, in all the world,
in which wou see no vehicles. You
see no carriages nor automobiles
moving there. Hundreds and thousands 
of pigeons fly all around you
every day. The people feed them
grain purchased from the vendors.
The pigeons are so tame that they
will eat the grain right but of your
hands.
The buildings around this square
are monumental and massive; and
yet, they are not boring, because
they are different from one another, 
and because they are all
master pieces of architecture. The
Ducal Palace, the seat of the Venetian 
government, is also one of the
show places about the square of St.
Marks. They also have wonderful
manufacturing plants and glass exhibits 
all around the square. Venice
is famous for its fine glass factories. 
It is well worth a trip to Venice 
just to see the fine buildings,
the beautiful canals, and above all,
to spend one hour in the lovely
square of St Marks.

Two-Party System Depends
On Eisenhower, Says Lodge
Maintenance of the American
two-party system, lack of which
could introduce "a really dangerous 
period of one-party government," 
is dependent on an Eisenhower 
—and Republican— victory,
Senator Henry Cabot Lodge, Jr.,
(R-Mass.) asserts in the current
issue of Harper's magazine.
In his first contribution to the
nationally-read monthly magazine
since 1930, the former journalist
and wartime army officer points
out that the Republican party has
lost five successive national elections. 
"Its continuance as a viable
organization is dependent on its
winning in 1952," he said.
Dipping into history to underscore 
his point, Senator Lodge declared: 
"American history shows
several instances of parties fading
and disappearing from the scene,
while a new alignment of forces
restores the two-party system so
essential to the workings of our
political institutions." The warning
is added that "it is just possible
that this time the disappearance
of a major party would not be followed 
by such reassuring results."
The widely-read Boston Herald
has added its name to the growing 
list of newspapers favoring nomination 
of Dwight D. Eisenhower
for the presidency by the GOP.
Excerpts from an editorial. "The
Crisis and the Man," printed April
23, 1952, follow: "America, in her
times of stress, has always found
a leader adequate to the need. By
destiny or by accident America
seems to be given such a man today. 
The Herald believes that
Dwight Eisenhower in the White
House and Robert Taft in the Senate 
would satisfy far more crucial
needs than the needs of the Republican 
Party — the needs, in
short, of a strong America."
dies were being made to determine
'the nature of democratic education.
Education, the group decided,
should provide for a continuous and
orderly change of society for democracy, 
aid in meeting problems of
health, earning a living and problems 
of boys and girls in relationship 
to society.
Realizing that to obtain these
goals there was a need for competent 
teachers, textbooks and teaching 
aids, in January 1946 a joint
resolution of the Houses of the
General Assembly sat up an educational 
committee to study the
problems of Georgia.
The Minimum Foundation Program 
which in a realistic and
fundamental sense may be viewed
as the budgetary implement for
the improvement of instruction in

Georgia was established by laws
which adopted the program and increased 
taxes.
The program makes stipulations
for funds needed for teachers salaries, 
employment for extens
services, transportation of pupils,
and the economic Index.
Dr. Lyda challenged each prospective 
teacher to see that the program 
is applied to Negroes. This
must be true If boys and girls of
the State of Georgia because of
their education, are to adjust
themselves to the continuous order
of a changing democracy.
Dean A. A. McPheeters, who presided 
at the lecture explained the
significance of Crogman Day and
the Crogman Lecture.

NEED FOR EISENHOWER
Maintenance of the American
two-party system, lack of which
could introduce "a really dangerous 
period of one-party government," 
is dependent on an Eisenhower 
—and Republican— victory,
Senator Henry Cabot Lodge, Jr.,
(R-Mass.) asserts in the current
issue of Harper's magazine.
In his first contribution to the
nationally-read monthly magazine
since 1930, the former journalist
and wartime army officer points
out that the Republican party has
lost five successive national elections. 
"Its continuance as a viable
organization is dependent on its
winning in 1952," he said.
Dipping into history to underscore 
his point, Senator Lodge declared: 
"American history shows
several instances of parties fading
and disappearing from the scene,
while a new alignment of forces
restores the two-party system so
essential to the workings of our
political institutions." The warning
is added that "it is just possible
that this time the disappearance
of a major party would not be followed 
by such reassuring results."
The widely-read Boston Herald
has added its name to the growing 
list of newspapers favoring nomination 
of Dwight D. Eisenhower
for the presidency by the GOP.
Excerpts from an editorial. "The
Crisis and the Man," printed April
23, 1952, follow: "America, in her
times of stress, has always found
a leader adequate to the need. By
destiny or by accident America
seems to be given such a man today. 
The Herald believes that
Dwight Eisenhower in the White
House and Robert Taft in the Senate 
would satisfy far more crucial
needs than the needs of the Republican 
Party — the needs, in
short, of a strong America."
dies were being made to determine
'the nature of democratic education.
Education, the group decided,
should provide for a continuous and
orderly change of society for democracy, 
aid in meeting problems of
health, earning a living and problems 
of boys and girls in relationship 
to society.
Realizing that to obtain these
goals there was a need for competent 
teachers, textbooks and teaching 
aids, in January 1946 a joint
resolution of the Houses of the
General Assembly sat up an educational 
committee to study the
problems of Georgia.
The Minimum Foundation Program 
which in a realistic and
fundamental sense may be viewed
as the budgetary implement for
the improvement of instruction in

Georgia was established by laws
which adopted the program and increased 
taxes.
The program makes stipulations
for funds needed for teachers salaries, 
employment for extens
services, transportation of pupils,
and the economic Index.
Dr. Lyda challenged each prospective 
teacher to see that the program 
is applied to Negroes. This
must be true If boys and girls of
the State of Georgia because of
their education, are to adjust
themselves to the continuous order
of a changing democracy.
Dean A. A. McPheeters, who presided 
at the lecture explained the
significance of Crogman Day and
the Crogman Lecture.

Virginia PTA
Honors Founder
Mrs.
John M. Gandy, widow of the late
Dr. John M. Gandy, former president 
of Virginia State College
Petersburg, Va., and a co-founder
of the Virginia Congress of Colored
Parents and Teachers, was given a
beautiful corsage, at the silver, anniversary 
celebration of the Congress 
here last week in honor of
her deceased husband.
Mrs. Gandy was one of three
women given beautiful corsages in
honor of their work for the Virginia 
P-TA Congress. The others
were Mrs. Clara J. Bailey, Portsmouth, 
co-founder With Dr. Garidy 
of the Congress and its first
president, and Mrs. T. C. Erwin,
Newport News, Va., widow of the
late T. C Erwin.
Mrs. Bailey along with Dr. Gandy 
was a pioneer in the Virginia
Congress. For years she was head
of the organization. Mrs. Erwin became 
interested in the work soon
after the Congress was organized,
and was an officer for a number of
years.
The corsages were pinned on 
three honored guests by Mrs. Thelma. 
S. Pogram, of Covington, Va.,
president of the Virginia Congress
of Colored Parents and Teachers.
A reception followed the meeting
in the Jacob School where all the
sessions of the Congress were held.

To Stop Rackets
Used On Families
Of Missing GI's
The racket is based on letters
demanding money for information
on the whereabouts of the missing
soldiers and purporting to use the
money to aid them or help in their
release.
The extortion letters appear to
be inspired by persons working
put of Hong Kong and Communist
China, although the Defense Department 
declined to say Whether
the racket is sanctioned by 
Red Chinese regime.
The Department would not discuss 
any specific cases, but one
such was verified from other sources 
in which a Chicago family, received 
extortion letters from Hong
Kong and presumably Shanghai.
For more than a year the Department 
has been quietly attempting 
to stamp out this racket by
disclosing its existence to the
next of kin of missing soldiers.
In letters to families, the Department 
warns that "sometimes
(the letter writers) claim that the
relative is a prisoner of war and
that they are in a position either
to get in touch with him, or to
get him free from the prison
camps for a certain sum of money

POLISH KILLS BOY
Little Ron
aid Worrell, one-year-old son of
Mr and Mrs. W. B. Worrell of
Washington, died recently a
drinking furniture polish.