Carolina watchman. [volume] (Salisbury, N.C.) 1871-1937, 1936-12-11
WPA To Continue Program
Bruce Barton Saws
HI FARMER HAS IT

oAAAAA6 w l oASSHA6 vi
discovered that we had got stalled
behind a derailed freight train dur
ing the night and were four hours
late. There was no diner, no news
paper, nothing to do but wait until
we reached Buffalo at one o'clock
So l settled myself philosophically
in the smoking compartment ano
gazed out on the landscape where
farmers were busy with their plow.
ing.
My mind went back to the sum,
mers l worked on a farm in Michi-
gan. And partly because of the
memories, partly because of the
lack of breakfast, l began to fee
envious Of the sturdy tillers of the
soil. "You have many troubles"
said to myself. "You have long
hours; you are at Wal with the
winds and the sun and the storms;
you are afflicted by every magma
bic kind of pest. But n great and
glorious gift you do enjoy. You
have an appetite"
On that Michigan farm the boss
and | and another hired hand used
to rise at four o'clock in the sumner
mornings. By half past six we had
tended to the horses and MIXED the
cows, and were ready for breakfast.
What a breakfast. Then out to the
fields. By about ~ten-thirty we were
beginning to be hungry again, and
for an hour and a half we would
live in. the contemplation of dinner
Again a tremendous meal. Then
more hard work until sun-down-
with again a couple of hours of
eager anticipation.
In New York high-priced chefs
buy the finest foods for their hotels
and clubs and dress them with all
sorts of fancy sauses and trick
ornaments. But I am never really
hungry. My house is warmer than
the farm house, and the beds are
softer; | am better paid for a much
shorter working day. But l wish
that just once more in my life 1.
could smell that cooking across the
fields and know that appetite again.
LET'S DRESS THE PART
On Park Avenue during a recent
elevator strike a young fellow
hailed me by name and I stopped
for a chat wondering all the time
just where l had e him before.
Then it dawned on RE that he run,
an elevator in a building where |
do a good deal of business. I never
had seen him without his uniform.
Perhaps you have happened to
pass a big city hospital at the hour!
when the nurses are going off duty.
They come trooping out of the side
door, a nice enough lot of women,
but no different from the other
thousands on the city streets. Are
these the alert Angels of Mercy who
with their starched whiteness, their
cocky little caps, and their brisk
movements, make such an alluring
in the wards?
"Clothes do not make the man."
says the proverb But clothes do
make the soldier, as every military
man knows. 1t would be impossible!
to win a war without uniforms.
And clothes do help to make the
official.
David Lamson, in his dramatic
book I'VE Who Are About to
DE-" describes the court scene
sentence of death was passed
upon him, and records his feeling
of surprise hat the whole tragic
action seemed so remote, 70 i'm
pressive. He discovered the reason.
I'VE have abandoned the fuss and
furbelows; we force the unfor-
tunate Law to play its scenes in the
.arest of settings, in street clothes,
without the makeup or costumes
or lighting necessary to the illusion
-. The British, with a better feel
ng for art forms, dress their judi