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.. My- ..vv uv It is reported of a Spanish king that he kept a diary â€"if it could be called keepingâ€"in which the stock entry for every date was: “Nothing.” It is not to be supposed that in the life of the monarch, however foolish he might have been, nothing ever happened; but he was too idle to write down his impressions. What sort of an existâ€" ence would it be which could truly be represented day after day as a complete blank? Yet this is what some people try to reduce their life toâ€"a mere succession of empty days, nothing accomplished, nothing even attempt- ed, no progress of any kind. In some languages the same word is used for “to do” as for “to Iive’“ the two are ’ really synonymous in meaningâ€"Hamilton Spectator. DOING SOMETHING It is a serious thing to do‘ wrong, but it is also a serious thing to do nothing at all. . . .Robert Louis Stevâ€" enson once said he was sometimes inclined to think the sins of omission were worse than the sins of commis- sion. So we cannot escape trouble or blame by merely doing nothing. It is so easy to fall into habits of idleness and in- difference. . . .There are so many things to be done that sometimes we. do not know just where to start or what to do next; but when in such a mood we should immedi- ately get busy at something and so improve the situa- tion, or at least prevent it from becoming more compli- cated. Apart from obvious duties, there are always many ways in which we can help others, and we ought never to allow a chance of being of service to pass. ~~. .v FVVVAV ..\,v\a. open a book, give the newspapers only a passing glance and then expect to be happy and well informed on what is going on around them. There never was a time in drive or cheap. It is a mystery why all of us do not formative or cheap. It is a mystery why all of us do not make use of it.â€"Durham Chronicle. LEARN TO READ The person who has not learned to sit down and take real enjoyment out of an afternoon’s reading is to be pitied. For two reasons. First, he is missing a lot of fun and, secondly. it will not be long before he will be sym‘oatl'iizinnr with himself. If there is one individual in this world who deserves sympathy and seldom gets it, it is the man who sits around brooding and thinking of himself and his troubles. We don’t know that it makes very much difference what kind of literature one reads, so long as it is decent. If you are a highbrow, then that’s the kind you will want. Others like detective stories, others fiction, history, geog- raphy. poetry. Like eating, too much of one thing is not good for you, even in reading. Mix them up. If you like Mark Twain, then read his books, and if you feel you {want to walk along with Einstein, this is also your privi- ege. There’s nothing quite so lonesome as a man who has nothing to do and all day to do it. If he enjoys reading, then he can never get lonesome. A good book can trans- fer one from the troubles of this world to the new ones in the book, and when finished, there is a satisfaction in knowing one is not carting around all the worries of the universe. In his forecast, Prof. Ogburn predicted that artifi- cial climate would be manufactured to suit the whims of the home owner. Illuminated panel walls would replace present methods of illumination. and hundreds of new electrical devices would enhance home comfort. He fore- saw homes built with miniature theatres in them to take care of the forthcoming results in television. ,, ___- ...i.‘ Awuulvu All ubAbVlDlUll. The limotorcalzntelebhone. radio and motion picture have changed the habits of the people greatly in the past few years, but evidently there are still more and per- haps greater changes to come. THE CHANGING HOME The modern home a few years hence will be as much different from the home of the present day. as far as conveniences are concerned, as today’s home is different fromhthe log cabin of the early settler of Ontario. The professor predicted that the home of the future will have artificial sunlight delivered to the occupant through its light bulbs. News bulletins will be flashed every few hours in the living-room through facsimile writ- ing, and telephone calls made during the absence of the family will be mechanically recorded to await their re- turn. -u. v...- ._<vuv.\/; u; VAIDMLJU. Professor William F. Ogburn, professor of sociology at the University of Chicago, gave an idea of what is to be expected in the modern home a few years hence when he spoke to the alumni of the university recently. It looks almost too good to béi til'fié,fiarirdqyet,~ we have already observed, Dr. Dublin has a habit of being right in his figure-founded forecasts. Dr. Dublin reports his results of a survey of millions of cases in an article in The American Magazine. “The average white man of twenty years,” he says, “now has an even chance to live to be sixty-nine. His chances of getting a job are excellent, so long as he continues to train himself in some particular field. It is true that there is a great deal of unemployment. The figures run into mil- lions. Actually, however, the figures represent less than one-fifth of the em‘ployable population. His chances then, are four out of five, even during the depression period. It is almost impossible to have talent, training and energy and not come out on top, even in an era of depression.” Nevertheless the outlook is not as black as one might suppose. From famed statistician Dr. Louis L. Dublin, Vice-President of the Metropolitan Life Insurance Com- pany, comes encouraging word. Dr. Dublin has compiled statistics on practically everything at one time or anâ€" other and his figures don’t lie. So when he assures us that, in spite of current economic conditions, young,r peo- ple of this continent have an excellent chance of obtainâ€" ing adequate income, being happily married and having children,“we are justified in feeling cheered up a bit. a matter of fact, there are in this town and in every town and city in Canada and the United States, young,r men who should be well started on their careers who have never_known what it is to have a “regular” job. It has been emphasized repeatedly that the real tra- gedy of the depression has been its effect on the youth of the land, many of whom have been deprived of the opportunity of getting away to a good start in life. As Established 1878 AN INDEPENDENT WEEKLY PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY AT RICHMOND HILL THE LIBERAL PRINTING CO., LTD. J. Eachem Smith, Manager Member Ccmdian Weekly Newspaper Association Subscription $1.60 per year â€" To the United States $2.00 Covering Canada’s Best Suburban District Adv-thing Rates on Application. TELEPHONE 9. Really; we_can't understand why_ some people never PAGE TWO “THE LIBERAL” HOPE FOR YOUTH “Oh, I got off clean. Them dep- uties was so busy pumpin’ lead into George an’ Luke, t’ finish ’em up. they kind 0’ overlooked me.” “Yuh wasn’t no slowâ€"poke. It never took yuh long t’ savvy throwâ€" in’ a croolq'ed loop. Like double- crossin’ me on this here Ajamboree.” Flint dodged the answer. “How’d yuh get away?” I “I ain’t bringin’ nothin' up. I’m satisfied. Kind of funny, though; a couple of Oklahoma cowâ€"provls sent up 15’ th’ penitentiary t’ make ’em good. Then havin’ them ciLy crooks teach us all th’ new-fangled ways 0’ doin’ things.” “Yeh, yuh learned plenty. How t’ steal a man’s gal, f’r instance." The grinning lips could not hide the cold light in Nye Bx'uee’s pale blue eyes. “I thought yuh said that was the makin’ of us?” The bullet crease gave Nye’s face a. queer, hateful leer. “We shore learned more’n we ever knowed before, there in Leav- enworth. Shucks, them Chicago gangsters in the next cell had us gawkin’ like a couple of ninnies.” “Take it easy, Nye,” Flint “No use bringin’ all thet up.” “We wouldn’t of go: sent to the jailhouse like we did,” Flint growl- ed. “Jed.” It was a mumble from the blanket. “I wonder what ever would have happened to us if we’d never pulled that first holdup.” ore. Mezely cowpunchers, wonderâ€" ing what they would do when en- croaching barb wire fn‘ccd them out of a job. Something out of the past hit Flint hard. He turned quickly. and raising, once again stood looking inâ€" to the strengthening sun. He and Nye had seen the break of morning many times in this region There had been many a time when they had ridden, singing into the eastern glow, Wlth no concern for the noise of jingiing spurs, the Whinny of a horse or the crack of stirrup leath- “We shore was pards once,’ he mused. All the venom was gone for a moment. “Me’n yuh-â€"just a couple of cow-waddies, out of a 101). But we was pards.” That grotesque, bullet-like grin seemed to widen, as if in mookery. “Yuh know how it happened.” “Don’t say that pard-” Nye tried to smile; it only made the grin more grotesque. His hand raised, as if to touch that of the man beside him, only to drop list- lessly to the rumpled blanket. “Where’s George and Luke?” HFIint queried. “Dead.” "‘Dead?” Flint went hurriedly forward and bent beside the dying man. "How’d it happen” “Why didn’t yuh meet me “here yuh said yuh would?” he asked faintly. Flint looked down at him, and turned his head. A bullet had gashed Nye’s' cheek, giving him a peculiar grinning- appearance. There was no answer in words; only a crashing approach. Then Nye Bruce, hatless, his clothing smeared with dried blood, staggered into camp, and suddenly sinkinz to all fours, crawled weakly to tlze blan- ket. where he slumped, gasping. “I waited for yuh,” came imzllly. “Yuh never showed up. I thougnt yuh’d took another trail.” “There pard," he suggested, “yu'n can lay on, that side now.” “Don’t yuh call me nerd." Flint did not answer. He merely twirled the retrieved gun in his right hand and looked away. The sun was rising, spreading a queer, faintish gold over the autumn-yell- owed leaves of the Osage Hills. Here Bill Doolin, the train-robber, had fought to the death years ago-- here posses had ridden in search of Henry Starr and the Wycliffe’<. Through the years, it seemed, there had al- ways! been some one to carry the torch. Of late it had been the Flint- Bruce crowds. adding newly devised methods to old fashioned daring. “Yuh never waited for nobo 1y,” answered Nye weakly. He would not last long. Flint leaned forward and gently slid the man’s six~glgn from its holster. - Tensely, he threw the covering from him and came to his feet, fully dressed, even to his' highâ€"heeled ’boots. Then with a slow, ciawing motion, he reached for his gun, shei- tered from the dew beneath a piece of bark, and slipped it into his holâ€" ster, his hand remaining cl05e by. “That yuh, Nye?” he asked; the tone was low, but it carried. Jed Flint rolled cautiously in his blankets and half rose. His head moved slowly, dark eyes' peering against the misty dawn. Some one was coming ‘through the scvub-oak; he had heard the swish of leaves and the cracking of a ‘branch. In- stinctively he knew that it was Nye Bruce. “Why didn’t yuh let ’em have it By Courtney Ryley Cooper SHORT STORY SUNRISE THE LIBERAL, RICHMOND HILL, ONTARIO said. “What’re yuh drivin’ at?” Flint's face had gone white. He bent close and shook the man, until his head rolled. “Didn’t yuh wipe it off like I told yuh toâ€"didn’t yuh? My fin- gerprints all over itâ€"" “No’ I ain’t forgot. It’s somethin’ else. Thinkin’ of Bill Doolin an’ all them old fellers makes me feel bad ab'o‘ut it. Thet rivetter, like yuh call it. Yuh shore was handlin’ it careless like last night, showin’ me how to use itâ€"yuh was so awful busy coverin’ up that loose clip in th’ cartridge drumâ€"” There was no answer. Nye Bruce’s eyes were staring. The hands had stilled. Only the grin remained, broad, unfaltering, somehow trium- phant. In the opinion of the Fergus News-" 'Record, “examinations are less pop-L ula .” Can anyonfie recall: a time’ when they were popular? “It ain’t been good fer yuh,” Flint cut in. “Yuh’re goin’ {2’ die.” “I ain’t th’ only one.” Flint’s eyes narrowed bitterly. “What’re yuh figgerin‘ 011"” he asked crisply. “A last shotâ€"at me?" Yuh must 0’ forgot I took yore gun." Nye Bruce struggled desperately to rise to an elbow and failed. Gasp- ing, he sank back. “If yuh hadn’t been so busy fig- gerin’ how yuh‘ was goin’ t’ git hold 0’ all the divvy we’ve got buried, maybe I woulan't of had no fime ‘t’ srteal yore woman.” It was a long- speech. Nye lay back, his grinning features faced towards the skv. “No, except playin’ th’ game like them slick-haired fellers ain’t been so good, for either of us.” “Anything wrong with thet‘.’ Flint asked desperately. “Oh, nothin’. Comin’ through th’ brush this mornin’ kind of remind- ed me. How Old Bill stood up an’ faced that pose, knowin‘ he didn’t have no chance, rather’n turn yaller dog on th’ rest of his nals.” “Oh, shut up,” snapped. Flint. “Don’t ungentle yuhse’f about it,” argued Nye weakly. “Learnin’ bad habits like we did from them there greasy haired fellersâ€"” Flint whirled. “Yeh, we’s the right word!” he growled. “Layin’ it on t’ me thet I tipped yuh offâ€"suppose I did. Yuh had it comin’ to yuh, stealin my woman. Playin’ up ‘0’ me like yuh was my pardâ€"” “Th’ machine gun, yuh mean? Yuh’re always usin’ them gangster words ainft yuh-? I had t’ leave it.” Again Flint glanced about him hurriedly. “Thereâ€"at th’ holdup?” “Yeh.” Flint viewed the fact lightly. “Yuh had gloves onâ€"‘â€"ain't nothin- to worry about thet.” Again Flint looked out over the sunny hills. Nye was mumbling. “It only worked long enough for me to kill the sherriff, then it jam- med, like yuh knowed it would.” an- swered Nye. Then he began to cough, and wiped his mouth with :hc back of a shaking hand, staring for a moment at the red mark. Flint pounded a fist into an open palm. “Yuh ain't making yourself plain, pard.” “Yes I am. Awful plain. Yul‘. knowed thet machine gun’d jam. Jest like yuh knowed there’d be plenty law t’ meet us when we went irk’ thet bank. ’Caruse yuh’d ar- ranged it.” “What’d yuh do with the rivet- ter?” “Wonder what Bill Doolin’d 0’ us?” he asked strangely. Henry Starr or the Daltom." with th‘ machine gun “Me? Me?” he asked. Then sud- denly he stared about him. THE END 9n think ‘(OT on Those Who WALK . . . Mal/J34” a word/n 7/0711 I am appealing to you pedestrians to “Try Courtesy” for your own sakes as well as for that of the motorist. Let us remember that a motor car is a big heavy piece of moving machinery weighing a ton or more and that to stop it or speed it up instantly is seldom pos- sible. You, on the other hand, as a pedestrian, can stop or move more quickly on theinstant. So when you are walking on the same thoroughfare as the one on which the motorist is driving, “Try Courtesy”. Cross the streets with the green signal or if there is none, cross at a reasonably smart walk. Refrain from jay-walking for this reason: motorists drive their cars according to what they expect the traffic immediately around them to do. And they don’t expect pedestrians to go jay-walking. Cross at the crossings where the motorists expect you to cross and for which the motorist makes allowances by slowing down. When walking at night where there is no sidewalk, carry a flashlight or wear a light garment which the headlights of the oncoming motor car will “pick up”. Courtesy on foot as well as courtesy at the wheel is the mark of a true gentleman. I appeal to you to “Try Courtesy” and set a good example which will make our city streets and country highways safer for everyone. WE ALL KNOW that it takes at least two to make an accidentâ€"you need never be one such person if you “Try Courtesy” and walk with full regard for the motorist and his problem of driving a ton of machinery. In previous messages, I have been appealing to motorists to “Try Courtesy”, when they drive, for their own sakes as well as for yours. Today, MINISTER OF HIGHWAYS PROVINCE OF Sincere] y yours, THURSDAY, AUGUST 6th, 1936 IT ADDS TO THE PLEASURE OF DRIVING THY [DURTESY cfig‘ I54,