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iv T| iI SI ii V. si I •h :r: .-. :n vi S* J- & •y:• r' t??. $ tfc' "t* i'-r?. $_ NORTH DAKOTA PUBLISHING CO. After the surgeons take a man and friake him over they regard liim as worth talking about. Ohio man killed while on his way to return a borrowed umbrella. Prob ably insane, anyhow. The feminine airship has material ized. It may be depended upon to have its wings on straight. A woman doctor advises polygamy as a cure for our social evils. Is the lady married, may we ask? Paris will have .i train its river tc stay cut in the country if it insists on acting so too'ishlv in town. According to a Harvard professor it is not a cat's nature to kill mouse. Unnatural brutes, cats! The sky pilot is no longer a theory, but a visible fact visible, at least, until he vanishes in the blue dome. A Chicago young man has spent ovei $300,000 :n two years. This high-flying record, however, was made without a barograph. As illustrating the dangers of get ting up too early in the morning, a New York man was run over by a •nilk wagon. It is true that a man has flown from the deck of a ship to the shore, but the day of the aeroplane lifeboat is not yet in sight. The horse may have to go in ordei to satisfy a school of prophets, but the hay and oats crop are still large and 'n good demand. Aviators, like other experimenters, are learning by their mistakes, but in their case the trouble is the mistakes ire such costly ones. Chicagoans are threatened with :oal shortage. Not to be able to buy fuel will be a highly unsatisfactory way of saving money. Columbus did after all bring upon this once happy country the peach basket hat. He led up to it. He made it possible here. A sea-going ship went to the rescue of an airship, and it is now the turn af an airship to repay the effort. Turn about is fair play. An Austrian specialist has found s. form of idiocy that is infectious. You may have noticed yourself how infec \ious is the pun-making habit. The typewriting championship hat just been decided in New York again. This is the first time it has been de cided since day before yesterday. Silly to get an injunction to keep a woman from going to a ball. Keeping her dress from getting home in timf wouid be infinitely more effective. The prophets were right. Twc months ago they predicted that the hobble skirt would not hold favor in the shape it had then. It is now grow ing worse. THE HOPE pioneer breath BIG BEECH HOPE NORTH DAKOTA RURA| However, the moon can come back DiVOfCe COUftS Do Not SeVCf. •all right every time. The problem of making it rain is ino more vexatious than that of mak ing it stop. "It is an author's privilege to be in Accurate," says a noted writer. Privi lege? It's a habit. That an insane asylum inmate whi won a prize for magazine poetrj should not occasion surprise or even amusement, considering most maga sine poetry. The aviation fashions will probably soon appear. The public may be de voutly thankful if feminine admirers of the bird men do not take to wear ing biplanes and Antoinettes for head gear. ANew York husband has asked the Supreme Court to affirm the binding nature of the wife's marriage promise to "obey." This is a dangerous prece fient, for a wife may retaliate by ask jing a legal enforcement of the hus Rand's promise to "endow with all his worldly goods." Stealing a red-hot stove has lont figured as "the limit'' of predatorj daring, if not an impossible feat. Bui jsomething closely akin to it is report pd from Hoboken, N. J., where a mar Ss under arrest charged with having carried off a stove in which a fire was [burning. And to make the affair seen: iholder the stove was taken from police station To Remove Mud Stains. Carbonate of soda will remove th« most obstinate mud stains. Rub of •with a cloth or flannel dipped in th« soda, then press well on the wronj side of the material with a wara Iron. To Clean Enamel. When the enamel becomes discol ored, scour it with a damp flannel dip ped in garden mold, then rinse it ir plenty of water. In this way th cleaning is effected without causinj scratches or other damage. Dominie Ties Nuptial Knots Liberty Church Neighborhood Not Only Marriage Center, but Its Peo ple Consider It a Youthful Mis fortune to Die Under Seventy. Gosport, Ind.—There has been, dis covered a remedy for the divorce evil. It is a simple but sure cure. Let the Rev. Josiah Burton, a rural dominie, living four miles east of Gosport, tie the matrimonial knot beneath the boughs of "Cupid's Beech." Then, if his record holds, all divorce laws may be eliminated from the statutes and no one need go singing: "I'm On My Way to Reno." It is the Rev. Josiah Burton's proud boast that no divorce court has ever severed a tie he bound. The Rev. Josiah Burton has three altars of matrimony—his little church across the fields, his home and—most romantic of all—a grand old beech tree that has been popularly chris tened "Cupid's Beech" because of the marriage ceremonies performed be neath its boughs. The tree stands at the corner of the fence that surrounds the old minister's home and no mar riage ever solemnized in its shade has ever been shattered by a divorce court. The Rev. Josiah Burton is an inter esting man in an interesting locality. Not only do his matrimonial knots stay tied, but there seems to be some good angel hovering over the hills in which he dwells whose mission is to grant happy old age to all who find a home there. To die under SO in the vicinity of "Cupid's Beech" is looked upon as passing away in infancy. In the early part of the last cen tury there moved into the hills of Owen and Monroe counties many men and women of a sturdy type from Kentucky, Virginia, Tennessee and RSW'ni Cupid's Beech. the Carolinas. Among those who came was John Burton, the father of Josiah. In the year 1818 he settled on a tract of ground four miles east of Gosport in a section now known as Liberty Church neighborhood. The country was then sparsely settled and there were only mere bridle paths leading to the few settlements. By 1830 the country had become a little more populous and there was talk of establishing a church. There were many denominations in the neighborhood, and it was finally de cided to build a church that should be non-denominational, but with lean ings toward the Methodist Protestant creed. John Burton gave enough ground for the building of a church, and another member of the new or ganization donated ground for a ceme tery adjoining the church. On the morning of September 23, 1831, a company of neighbors gath ered at the spot given by John Bur ton as a church site. Each carried a broadax. The men were divided into two squads. They then went into the forest in search of yellow poplar trees. The giants of the wilderness began to fall and soon the brethren were hewing the trees with that ex pert swing known only to the pio neers. When dinner time came the church builders sat down tq a meal such as only old-fashioned cooks could cook. All of the food and the dishes were carried to the place by a 10-year-old boy. That boy was Josiah Burton, and the church was started on his tenth birthday. Liberty Church is an interesting type of the old-fashioned meeting house. It is a plain room with plain, old-fashioned pews. The pulpit was made by a local carpenter and the choir and organ have a slightly ele vated platform to the left of the min ister. If there is one thing that makes the aged minister who presides at Liberty Church happy it is a wedding. He doesn't know how many couples he has united in marriage, but he has yet to hear of one of them being broken by a divorce decree. Uncle Josiah takes supreme delight in having some couple drive up to the door and call him out to tie the nuptial knot. It is then that he dons his Prince Albert and white cravat and puts on his most responsible air. In recent years he has had numerous calls for wed dings in the shade of "Cupid's Beech." "Providence seems to favor all who are married beneath that tree," says the minister. "So come ye!" ROM the rush and bustle df busy'' American city streets, alive at this season of the year with Christmas shoppers, back to old Nuremberg, in Germany, where the Christmas spirit lasts the year around, where Santa CIRUJB spends his working months for the joy of the war-id's children— surely the step is not too great for the imagination nor its goal uninteresting as a study. Come out of your crowded streets, your people-packed stores, leave off for the time being your breathless chase after that troublesome "last present," and turn into the quiet winding streets, the irregular hilly passages dovetailed by houses older than any thing in the oldest parts of the United States House rises above house full of a history as roman tic as the proudest mansion of our city streets, and yet marked by a simplicity and single-hearted ness seldom present in things modern. It is'here that the toys ar3 made which you buy in your home across the sea. Here in the quietness of the un modern, the playthings are invented and perfected for your restless, buoyant children. You read "Made in Germany" with a skeptical tilt of the eyebrow, but the fact remains that by far the manufactured greater number of all come from Nuremberg. The ancient feudal city, around which cluster the grim traditions of the inquisition and the thrilling epic of the times of Charles V., has for four hundred years or more been the center of the children's fairyland. It has been and is the nucleus of Christmas happiness for the youth of every place in the Occident, and its charm is the perpetual one of joyous creation which de lights in planning the amusement of little people. In the factories they will tell you that 72,000, 000 marks' ($18,000,000) worth of pleasure is sent out from Nuremberg every year, and that 15,500,000 of this export is for the benefit of Young America. Only a few years ago all of the necessary labor for this immense production was done by hand, and much of the finishing and fine last touches are performed by special artists. Even now in the factories the old spirit of an almost consecrated enthusiasm lives and is evi dent in the interest of the village artisans for their craft. Not merely the reason of bread and butter goes toward the making of those marvel ous walking dolls, those phenomenal speaking picture books, those thousand and one games that have called for all the imaginative as well as practical genius of these honest German peasant folk. Rather has their unique industry called for and developed in them a romance, a sensitiveness of perception which is remarkable. Follow the lurching, worn curves of the Al brecht-Durerstrasse, and you come to one of the many homes of this Nuremberg spirit. In a min iature red-roofed house, wedged in among a hun dred squat brown huts, live two old men—broth ers, of sixty-five and seventy—whose white heads are constantly bent over small circles of wood—shaping, paring, carving, painting. All day they sit there, sometimes all night, toiling" over the delicately ornamented dolls' dishes which perhaps you have bought, as a small insignificant thing, just this afternoon for your small daughter's tree. You looked at them carelessly they were not especially original or attractive, and you shoved them into your bag with a half-hesitating accept ance, thinking that maybe they would please ca pricious Dorothy. How could you know that back in the village of Always Christmas old hands had fashioned those trivial plates and pitchers, old eyes had strained with loving anxiety over those fine traceries of columbine, and old hearts had warmed over those completed trifles with the same thrill of the master painter over his best? But this was true. Indeed, nearly all of the simple wooden toys are constructed by hand, in some humble volkshause which goes to make up the aggregate creative force of Santa Claus' workshop. Take the tiny sets of soldiers, the doll's chairs and tables, the painted wooden ani mals whose realism is a delight to all children, actual or grown up. These are fashioned in homes, sometimes by the efforts of whole fam ilies, but most often by children themselves. Sixteen is the age limit for child labor in the factories, but no young person is prohibited from assisting his parents at home, provided he spends the required period of time at school. So that many of those playthings which give most hap piness to the children of America have been made by the children of Nuremberg. And if babies must work, what work could one find for them more appropriate or more pleasurable than this business of toy making. They grow up in the midst of it, all their hereditary ideas are colored by it, the history of the city speaks of it. Inside of half a doz en blocks you have trains, up-to-date ho tels, electricity, motor cars, Parisian frocks, primitive carts drawn by hugs mastiffs, funny tucked-away inns near the market place full of peasant women in wide black silk aprons and snowy white caps—crumbly fountains and a castle with a secret passage. All the elements of the fascinating past and the strangely progressive present within a stone's throw of each other. The realization of all that Nuremberg has been and has undergqne comes to one most vividly as one stands looking down into the Schloss well C50 feet deep, where prisoners used to come to fetch water. Underground their passage led from the dungeons to this unlit circular pool, for state pris oners were never permitted to see the light, and the hollow splash of the water which the attend ant drops into the well seems to re-echo, after an interminable half-minute, the hopeless pilgrim age of those countless victims of medieval fanat icism. Such is the potency of the ended. While the vitality of the occurring emphasizes itself, not far off, in one of the dozens of toy factories, whose very machinery whirs modernity, men, women and children—that is, children over six teen—are massed into this building, all intent on the one idea, the creation of better and newer and more wonderful toys for everyone's children, in everyone's country. e&Gttrs*- J2v It is seldom the industrial planet can boast of a broader ambition than this of the craftsmen of Nuremberg. To bring the greatest possible amount of pleasure, legitimate and often educative pleas ure, to growing, active minds is surely an aim worthy of the finest art in the world. It even seems as though the thought back of the toys should surround them with a deeper meaning as gifts this Christmastide, since the added gift—the biggest gift—lies in the patient interested inven tion and accomplishment of which they are the exponent. As for the inventors, strictly speaking, their reward seems infinitesimal according to our stand ards. The "boss" controls ideas as well as mate rials of output, and it is chiefly to his profit that new inventions in toyland redound. The man or woman who first thinks of or improves upon some plaything gets a very small per cent, of the in come from it. To our new world standards of commerce it seems strange that the originator should receive such scant recognition and that without grumbling. Very, very few Nuremberg toymakers have ever grown rich over their lngeniousness. It 1b true that ideas as well as toys in Germany sell for double what they sold for eight years ago, even! On the other hand the price of living has gone up appreciably, and what would have seemed a large purchase price then is only moderate now. The staff of artists employed Dy the Nurem berg factory boss is in itself a not inconsiderable expense, and many a quiet charity is undertaken by these men who at home would be absorbed in getting rich. In the shop of Fritz Mullen are .. :•, I i-''-s', tii Vrvv'vV, .'!" Wj I r. various small kitchen: gardens, carved and painted by a poor man and his sister after- their regular working hours,, and bought by'Mr Muller at high rates as his pet philanthropy. In this shop, now 100 years old, are seen all of the most novel of the toy-village playthings. The store was crowded with rr\pre children over- thirty than under thir teen, and absorbed for hours over the clever and quaint attractions. The doll's house of Nuremberg leaves nothing to be desired. Not only the usual rooms of a con ventional menage are found in it, but conserva tories with miniature orchids, fountains and wa tering cans school rooms with tiny desks, a schoolmaster, very stern, with goggles and ruler, and children in aprons and carrying slates, the latter a sixteenth of an inch big fields of flowers for the back yard and a swing for the smallest doll. In all German art, of which toy making is by no means an insignificant department, perfection of detail has always been the salient feature. Ev ery phase of home life is reproduced in micro scopic form in German toyland, even down to the wee pairs of hand-knitted stockings and sweaters, the hob-nailed shoes and blue blouses which make up the wardrobe of the volks hoy and girl. The tourist season is a second Christmas for Nuremberg people, and they sell as many play things iu the one period as the other. An inter esting point brought to light by this fact is the early differentiation of the American and Euro pean individuality, which shows itself in choice of games and pastimes. They say in the shops that an American child is invariably fascinated over the mechanical and complicated, that he finds in tense interest in mastering the technicalities even of playing, while the European child likes a sim pler but brilliantly colored toy, cherishing often a curious sentiment for traditional objects such as typify old world conservatism. They are blessed with imagination, these vil lage people, and they are not.ashamed of show ing their simplicity of spirit. Their souls are bound up in the heritage of centuries. The trag edies of their city's history wind about the toys they make, breathing into th? wood a characteris tic vitality—the vitality that comes of centuries of striving, of centuries of patient achievement As you sit in a swirl of red ribbon and foamy paper, "doing up" your Christmas presents, re member that many of them have come from this quaint little Village of Always Christmas. It may add to your l-.oliday happiness to know'that no pleasure which the toys may bring can be greater than the pleasure of those who made them, and that no good will of yours can outdo the quiet sincerity of purpose with which the simple people of Nuremberg have given their part toward this season of the universal gift 1 I.