DO YOU LIKE THE BAGPIPE

’Twas in, a crowded hospital in Western U.S.A. A Caledonian far from home, sick, lonely, dying lay,

“0, Doctor, could I hear but aione our own Bagpipes, again

I’d shut ma eyes an’die in peace, in spite o’a’ me pain.”

The kindly Doctor searched the town; a brother Scot was found And soon within the Hospital, the cherry pipes resound

Along the great wide corridors, the Pibroch echoes, clear

Till every poor, sick sufferer heard the Highland tune so dear. And by that glorious music, the ailing Scot survived

Regained his health, and walked abroad; the other patients died!

TO LIVE IN PEACE

Do not look forward to what might happen tomorrow; the same Everlasting Father who cares for you today will take care of you tomorrow and everyday. Either He will shield you from suffering, or He will give you unfailing strength to bear it. Be at peace then and put aside all anxious thoughts and imaginations.

Dear Ann Landers:

We wives have enough tr0ubles with our middle aged Romeos without having the rug pulled out from under us by nit—wits like you. Why don’t you write a cooking column?

Signed —— Furious.

Dear Furious:

In a way I do write a cooking column. Every day I deal with spring chickens, old roosters, cold tomatoes, hot potatoes, sour grapes, spilled milk, assorted nuts and now and then I even cook a goose.

Signed — Ann Landers.

Letter received by father from his oldest son during the war. Dear Pa: I can’t tell you where I am, but yesterday I shot

a polar bear — Your Son.

Several months later:

Dear Pa: I can’t tell you where I am, but yesterday I danced with a hulagirl. -— Your Son.

Two months later:

Dear Pa: I can’t tell you where I am, but the doctor tells

me I should have danced with the polar bear and shot

the hulagirl —Your Son. '

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