Block · one region of the page, as the scanner read it. It may hold a whole story, part of one, several, or an advertisement; stitching blocks into articles is the next step. Text is supplied OCR.
Page 3 · column 1 of 5 · from the scan, no model involved
lm thankful for the beauty of the gold willow tree at Fletcher’s Mill. I’m thankful for the apple orchards, presenting a picture at this time: naked branches with occasional bright red or yellow fruit, left by the picker. I’m thankful for the haze that is on the mountains at this time of year. I’m thankful, also, that I beat off that gesky sniffle I was trying to develop and didn’t have to endure a bad cold for the Thanksgiving holidays!
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The old joke of the fellow who said he’d never own another automobile because he had a flat tire with the last one has now been topped by a storekeeper who sells paint. (And this one is a so-tale, honest-truth, I heard it with my own ears.) A certain brand of paint—known far and wide for its good reputation — has been thoroughly discrdited by a housewife. “No, indeed, I can’t recommend it,” said the lady, “I used some black paint of that kind on some wooden chairs and it scratched off on the rounds where the children pilt their feet. It’s no good.!”
Madam, what you needed was cast iron! The day you find paint that survives the foot-scratching of children, you let the whole world know about it l
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The best thing about a popular song is that it is not popular very long. For the benefit of those who have not realized it yet, we are now beginning a five-weeks’ spell of “White Christmas” and “Silent Night” sung off-beat. It can be listed as a single flaw in the perfect Christmas season* t
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