The Waterbury Democrat., 1939-01-07

and do the column that way, but you'd catch me at it. Or, If you didn't, I'd catch me at it, which might be even worse.
 This is, I suppose, what we used to try to call la grippe when I was a youngster. Last night, with a high temperature, I fought wild horses, COWS that would not stand still to be mixed, and frightful hobgoblins that changed shape and identity as fast as I seemed to have them under control. I was back on the farm, worrying about getting the COWS milked in cor ral that was half full of brackish water, and I couldn't swim. Every body kept kicking me in the chest, and when I awoke my chest was mighty sore from the kicking. However, when I collected my wits the pounding seemed to originate inside instead of exteriorly. This morning my wife made me promise that I wouldn't try to go down to the town today. Rain fell all night, and wicked wind is bringing bitterly cold weather to- day. The sky is overcast. The house seems dreary, and the walls have way of moving this way and that, uneasily, as if they couldn't make up their minds. Maybe later in the day they'll settle down to 8 rational pro- gram.
 My wife read the morning pa- pers to me because I couldn't make any sense out of the print. All I got out of the news was a big new worry lest those poor fel- lows over in Spain get the grip while out slaughtering ope an- other in that cold, merciless cli- mate.
 Oh, yes, I know all kinds of things to do for it. I've been do- ing them all. My old schoolmate, Earl Carter, cured my daughter Mary when she got this way, on a visit to Wichita few years ago. We considered those nose drops miraculous. wrote for the pre- scription, and the whole family has used it ever since. I've been using those drops for days. They're no good any more, Earl!
 The stuff you breathe out of breathers, the tablets everybody takes, hot footbaths-all no good. Rest in bed, the doctors say. Well, that may be fine for doctors who can get substitutes. But you can't rest in bed and turn out even column as bad as this one.
 Ruth and Maxwell Alley, old friends n the literary game, have made it possible for me to eat eggs. even with no appetite at all. They sent me a nice pack of dried basil, raised in their own garden up in Cnnecticut. and dried in their attic, built in 1790.
 Ruth sent this direction for making Eggs Chateau Alley:
 Take a thin muffin pan and butter generously as many sec- tions as you wish to cook eggs. Break an egg in each and add a tablespoonful of cream, pinch of dried basil crumbled fine and little parsley cut fine with 8 sharp knife. With the handle of a teaspoon, stir the cream, basil and parsley into the white of the egg, taking care not to break the yolk. Set the pan in larger pan of hot water cover tightly enough to hold the steam and put on low fire. When the whites of the eggs are puffy and the yolks are hard, they are ready to serve on buttered toast"
 My wife has cooked them for me several times. and they're my sole diet at present. Really much too good for everyday use. But my wife uses, instead of the muffin pan, those little glass egg cups with water-tight covers that you can get at most any store now.
 With two Alley eggs day, we're going to lick this monster!
 Copyright, 1889. McNaught
 Syndicate).