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Show Do You Remember? ... By MAUDE II. BENEDICT In these diiys wlion move and moro women nve leiirnlng the I knitting nrt, we found u couple of clover poems in Old Sol's "Sun-; "Sun-; shine n'"1 Shadow" column in the Option Stmul:ml Examiner, that are very appropriate: i (To the tune of "The Rosary") "Tlio hours I spent in sweater art ! Are as a string of pearls, I sigh ' To count them over every one apart My rows a-wry my rows a-wry. Each hour I purl each purl take care, i To drop no stitch lest I be stung, ' I count, yea, count unto the end And there a sleeve is hung. ' Oh memories that bless and burn Of raveling out at bitter loss, I drop a purl, yet strive at least ;': to learn To knit a-cross, sweet art! To knit i a-cross. ! (Another, to the tune of "A Per- J feet Day"): When you come to the end of a ! perfect row i And you sit alone with your wool i! And your bosom heaves with, a rhythm slow For the joy that you'd followed the rule - j Do you think what the end of a perfect row k Can mean to a tired heart, ' I When you've dropped each stitch Since you've learned to purl And you lost three more at the start. Well, this is the end of a perfect row And the end of a sweater, too Though it's for a man that is big and strong It will be pretty tight, 'tis true. But toiling has ended this perfect row A nice piece of knitter's art And 'twill stand at the end still strong and firm When the whole' thing comes apart. And would you like to laugh with one? A salesman who had been on the road for a couple of weeks, walked into a restaurant and said to the waitress, "Gimme an order of toast, burned black on one side and not done at all on the other side; Gimme an order of bacon and burn it up, and a coupla eggs all mixed up, and a cup of coffee so weak it can't stand alone." The waitress looked a little puzzled, but brought in his order and then the salesman said, "Now sit down opposite me, ruffle up your hair, and start nagging I'm so doggone dog-gone homesick I dunno what to do!" Which brings us to the cooking schools that are being held all over the country. Up with the dawn to set the breakfast table for the sleeDV members of the- of youth, was very homely. The groom, younger, was obviously marrying for money. However, he insisted on having the army band of his regiment play the wedding march. The bride appeared on the arm of her aged father. The groom and best man took their places to begin the march up to the altar. Just before the signal was given the band to begin the march, the leader peeked out from behind the screen of palms and the amazed party gasped in astonishment when the band truck up "Johnny Get Your Gun!" G'bye do you remember? family and away to the Orpheum theatre where Miss Emily Conklin, dietitian and cooking expert, held court all this week. Jammed to the doors by the early rising feminine population, still free to go where they will until Uncle Sam gives them a job on defense work.. Picked up at the curb where we waited for a bus, by a neighbor on his way to work, we explained that we were on our way to said cooking school because we said in an unguarded moment to friend husband one day that there are two hundred ways to cook potatoes pota-toes and he had answered, "Why don't you learn one of 'em!" Cooking schools nowadays are as glamorous as any other show. Color harmony, in garnishing and arrangement, as carefully executed execut-ed as an artist mixes paints for a picture. Indeed some of the foods cooked and prepared while you watch are perfect pictures. Too good to eat. But this is just what we need now more attention to right cooking and better arranged menus. There is no doubt about color's influence on appetites and morale. Just as we always use some kind of trimming on dresses and hats, so our vegetables can become a thing of beauty by using a little care in arrangement. This column is not bringing in personalities today, got off on a wrong start, but will have more Springville memories next week. Do you remember the jokes told after World War I? One of these has stayed in memory because of its very ridiculousness: An heiress (old maid) and a war veteran were having a fashionable wedding. The bride, quite past the first flush |
