Radio and television mirror (Nov 1939-Apr 1940)

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STANCHING WITH EXACT-MEASURE CUBE! Each cube, an exact amount of finest gloss starch. Cubes dissolve quickly, smoothly. Starch spreads through clothes evenly. No lumps. Saves V3 ironing time, women say. Gives clothes soft sheen, dirt-resisting finish. A. E. Staley Manufacturing Co., Decatur, Illinois. Costs No More Than Old -type Starch STALIY GLOSS STARCH CUBES "C&iMPin4 30L Artistic pins,, and clubs. Alt islorcla; *v° FREE Write liveprices. Finest quality, f ATA I f\f* d pliled. silver, etc. Over 300 designs. V.AIALUU DepL J, METAL ARTS CO.. Inc.. Rochester. N. V. ANY PHOTO ENLARGED Size 8 x IO inches or smaller if desired. Same price for full length or bust form, groups, li ■capeu. pet animals, c or enlargements of any part of group picture. Safe return of original photo _ guaranteed. 3 TOT $1.00 SEND NO MONEY ^EKSSJt (any size) and within a week you will receive your beautiful enlargement, guaranteed fadeless. 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FEEN-A-MINT Perfumes 1) I HI -li nlil ■■;■ 2) I'.iilli'inli I I 5) I I <-r n i-Ni4) I'. is Mini Only $1 Postpaid (Regular $2 valuo) Redwood Treasure Chest: Contain* 4 — 50c bottles of these alluring Perfumes. A Unique Chest 6 inches z 3 inches made from Giant Redwood Trees of California A splendid gift. Send No Money! ^jfto'SS lor) send $1 check, stamps or currency. Money back. PAUL RIEGER. 274 Art Center Bldg., San Francisco 76 and he would smile upon them and give them his blessing. The great day came. The hall of our school was packed, with children and their parents, and with uniformed men who carried pistols on their hips. The children, white and clean, and breathless with excitement, stood in rows on the stage — I with them. Near us he sat — the Leader — a little man. "Hail to our Leader! Our Savior, hail!" the children sang, and he smiled. Then one of my little girls — tiny Thalia — so small, so frightened, sang the song she had learned: "Unfurl our bloody banners, These cowards will run as we rise, And when our day of vengeance comes We'll lead our flag through their morning's blood. Yes, following the flag of our leader unto our death." For the first time — -yes, for the first time, there in that crowded hall, I heard the words. From those tiny lips they came, and I understood them when before they had meant nothing to me. "Bloody banners . . . our day of vengeance . . . unto our death." Little Siegried — nine or ten — now he was coming forward to the Leader's smile. A head like the sun — baby lips to sing: A hundred and ten bullets in my hand, Loaded rifles row on row, In my fist a hand grenade — Come on then, bloody foe! A hundred times and more I had heard it — the children's marching song — and yet, sitting there, it was as if I heard it for the first time. What were they saying, these children of mine. Blood — ■ guns — bullets — grenades! And then suddenly the hall was gone, and all I saw were fields, running blood red, green mists of gas — and through them marching chil dren— my children, hatred on their lips, in their hearts, marching for him to their deaths! No! I jumped to my feet. "Children!" I screamed. "Children! Listen to me! I have taught you lies! there is no glory in war. War is terror and pain! They'll give you gas tearing at your lungs and bullets in your eyes! Children, listen! There is no God but the true God and all men have His blood in them and their blood is your blood, so they are your brothers. This man sitting here is a man like all men and he'll die — but this truth will live: liberty is the nobility of men and nations are great when each man has the liberty to reach for the greatness within himself! Children this is the truth! The truth!" That is what I told them, there in the hall. They all heard — the children, and their fathers and mothers, and the soldiers, and the little man, sitting there. When I had finished there was silence, and I turned and went out. My eyes were so filled with tears, mourning for the days I had lost by being afraid, that I could hardly see my way, so I stumbled out of the school and down the long road to my garden. That is why I sit here now, in the sun, waiting. I must wait for them to come for me. If I run away, the children will doubt. If I stay they will remember. Ah! There they are. I hear them coming, tramping down the street toward the garden, metal clinking, leather creaking. Strange, I am not afraid any longer. Were you like this, unafraid, when they came for you, Herr Professor Kraener? ... I am sure you were . . . We found truth, didn't we, old friend? The sun is warm — life is good — but there comes a time when one must speak. They are knocking on the door now. There is no need for them to break it down. I will let them in. I am not afraid. What Do You Want to Say? {Continued from page 3) FOURTH PRIZE OUR FIRST LADY Orchids to you Radio Mirror, for the wonderful "mike picture" of our First Lady revealed in your September issue. Standing as she does, Ace-High in American opinion, Jerry Mason's facts about Mrs. Roosevelt's simplicity, graciousness, punctuality, ability for self-control and quick-thinking in emergencies, set us a fine example. — Mrs. Edna L. Maddocks, Ruston, La. FIFTH PRIZE STOP PICKING ON "POOR DON" I wish people would stop picking on Don Ameche. Imagine people not liking his gay singing! First the people didn't like it because Mr. Ameche smiled — so — he's smiling less now than he did. Now they don't like his singing. I believe it's Mr. Ameche's nature to be happy, and when a person is happy he smiles, laughs and sings. Please don't try to change him. — Alice Kozlowska, Buffalo, N. Y. SIXTH PRIZE JUST COMMENTS Comments on Radio programs: Kay Kyser, merry clown of the airwaves, serves up an appetizing dish every Wednesday night. When Bing Crosby resumes broadcasting, here's hoping that he will sing more and talk less. He can croon for my money any day or night, but there's no necessity for all that excess verbiage on his program. Dorothy Lamour's mistake is that she instills into her voice a tearstained quality it does not naturally possess. — Mr. Hoyt McAfee, Los Angeles, Calif. SEVENTH PRIZE RADIO MAKES GOOD! On these pages I've read of many fine things the radio has done for people: quarrels patched up, divorce averted, nervousness cured, etc. My radio pays me money! I'm a CONTEST BUG. There's always a pad and pencil handy on my radio table and when I hear some announcer say, "Win $1,000 first prize or an autographed baseball second prize, just by telling us 'Why you like Dilly Dally Dumplings' "—I dash down the address, dash to my typewriter, dash off an entry, and in a few weeks comes my check for the $1,000 ... or the autograph baseball . . . maybe! Incidentally my radio is a Contest prize. — Mrs. Mabel Williamson, Memphis, Tenn. RADIO AND TELEVISION MIRROR