Radio mirror (Jan-June 1948)

NEWS!"BC"HEADACHE TABLETS IMMEDIATE SUCCESS! Users find same fast relief as powders Hear the acclaim! "BC" Headache Tablets as popular as "BC" Headache Powders. Naturally! The same famous formula in both. The same FAST relief from headaches, neuralgic pains and minor muscular aches. Two tablets equal one powder. On sale everywhere. Caution: use only as directed. V. Get Well QUICKER From Your Cough Due to a Cold FOLEY'S Honey & Tar Cough Compound "BirthstoneRinmVEM reiy si«riiiig e Icushion ehape eetl I ring No. 96 in yourl 1 month Blrthstonel I Color or in a black I "onyx" color given I I for selling 4 boxes of I lRosebudSaIveat25c| I eacb OR you can se1 lect No. 104 Bterling ring with brilliant| Bettoimitate diamond. Order4 salve. (Will mail No. 96 or No. 104 ring and 4 salve NOW if yoo send $1.00 with order). Order your choice in eizo 5 to 9, ROSEBUD PERFUME CO. Box 70, WOOOSBSRO, MARYUND. HEMSTITCHER Hemstitch on any sewing machine with this handy attachment. Does two piece, criss-cross, inlaid, circular and hemstitching for pleats; also lucking, smocking and picoling. Makes rugs, comlorters, slippers, etc. out of any material. Easy directions included. 80 f BUTTON HOLER Makes button holes on your sewing machine instead of by hand. Also dams stockings, sews buttons, zippers; and can be used for quilting. Sews in any direction — front, bach or sideways. SEND NO MONEY Merely senil ._ ^^^ your name, address and pay postman $1.00 plus postage on arrival. Or, send $1.00 with order, and we mail attachments postage paid. You risk nothing. Satisfaction guaranteed or your money back. Life Can Be Beautiful {Continuedi, from page 43) lEUNE CO. Oept MW-IB, Box 571 Kanui City 10, Mo* TOGETHER Dear Papa David: Six years ago my father died, leaving my mother with the respongibihty of four children to be supported by the city welfare and social security. Three years after my father's death she remarried to a soldier during the war, and had a baby. Bert was killed, and again my mother was left alone with not four children but five. A year ago my mother died and I the eldest, was left to care for a brother eleven, and three sisters, ages ten, eight and two. I left school and stayed home to support us. I found a chambermaid job for $15 a week with small tips. I found a day nursery for the baby and I brought her home at six in the' evening. I was allowed an hour for lunch where I worked during which I rushed home and prepared dinner for three hungry youngsters and then I shipped them back to school and I returned to work, which kept until school let out in the afternoon. My brother earned money at odd jobs and in my spare time I made pot holders, dish towels, pillow cases, baby clothes and bureau scarfs and together we made extra money to help us out. Together we all managed expenses, homework and housework and shouldered all responsibilities and tasks and indeed, in spite of hardships we fare moderately, and we all think when you're busy and happy, life can be beautiful. C. N. CUP OF WATER Dear Papa David: When I was quite small my family moved out west to dry-land farming on the benchlands of Montana. Life was very different than in our Missouri home, but what I remember most vividly was the water. It was pumped by a windmill that banged and complained day and night. The water itself was flat and had a soda flavor that neighbors told us was alkali. Yet we soon learned that even this poor tasting water was precious and must never be wasted, for one terrible summer the well went dry and all our water had to be hauled three and a half miles from the river. Every other day father or my brothers would hitch the team to the lumber wagon filled with barrels and make this tiresome trip. The barrels could only be filled about half-full as so much water slopped out as the wagon bounced and rattled along. The water was muddy and unpleasant tasting even after boiling. Every drop was hoarded, often serving several purposes before it finally finished up on mama's pansy bed. My memories of that summer are of crackling, powder-dry grass and the rasping bawl of thirsty cows. After that year we moved to a ranch in the mountains where a wonderful spring flowed continuously summer and winter. Its sweet, icy-cold water bubbled musically like the flowing melody of a song and around the edges of the pool were beautiful dark-green, velvety mosses and spicy watercress. I've never forgotten the blessing of a cool, satisfying cup of water. God's greatest gifts to us, I think, are the simple things that make life beautiful — good, sweet, pure water, fresh, invigorating air, life-giving sunshine. Mrs. R. A. F. BANQUET ON A RUSTY STOOP Dear Papa David: Immediately after our marriage, we pooled our savings and bought a little home. My husband had a steady job and though his salary was a moderate one, supplemented by my earnings we were sure we would have it all paid off in no time, and our heads were, filled with dreams of the wonderful days ahead. Alas for our dreaming! Before the second year was out, my husband became ill. He lost days from work, and finally became so ill that he lost his job altogether. He was quite ill for a while, bedridden a good part of the time. I followed the doctor's orders faithfully and after a while he began to improve. I was so overjoyed that I couldn't take notice of the fact that our savings were almost gone and with no money what-» ever coming in since my earnings had to be sacrificed in order for me to care for him. The depression was upon us, and when he finally was well, there was no job to be had. We lost our home and even some of our furniture. We moved to two rooms and stretched our pennies as far as we could, always searching for work. Soon there were no more pennies for car fare, and we walked until we could go no farther. At last I found a job in a factory, but there had then been no food for two whole days. However, with my stomach empty and my heart full I began work, and by noon of that third day I was so hungry I scarcely knew what to do. And then at noon at that third day when I met my husband he had his hands behind his back and his face was beaming. We dined that day on the rusty stoop of an old deserted house. And I think there was never a sandwich so tasty, or a bottle of pop so sweet and refreshing, as those we shared that noon. He explained as we ate, that he had been able to pawn the almost-new black suit that he had purchased for his father's funeral. And as we chatted and ate, the food was so good and the sun so warm that we couldn't help crying a little. From then on, as the days crept slowly by, things got better. He got work, and I got a better job, and I'm so happy to say that we have once more started payments on a home of our own, and when we get it finished we are going to find a rusty stoop and celebrate, with a sandwich and a bottle of soda. Mrs. V. O. S. ON OUR KNEES Dear Papa David: I'm a small town girl, sixteen years old. Here we have only one theater, a drug store and a few grocery stores, and a dime store. I live in a small four-room house; ten of us live here. We cook on an old wood stove that my grandmother used. We have no rugs on our fioors, our house isn't even painted, and a few of the window glasses have been broken out. I'm the oldest one of the children. Since Mom is sick, and Papa must work away in the ' city, all the cooking, chopping wood, washing, ironing and everything is left up for me to do. I had to quit school at the age of ten to do the things around the house. All my other sisters and brothers are going to school but two of them. It's