Verhovayak Lapja, 1943. július-december (26. évfolyam, 26-53. szám)
1943-12-09 / 50. szám
Page 2 Verhovay Journal December 9, 194§ A Strand of Pearls Beautiful pearls; symbol of purity; — Conveying the true meaning of love; Drops of wealth; priceless jewels; White as the breast of a dove. Treasured gift; cherished forever; Given to me by a loved one; Sparkling pearls; brilliant gems; Outshining even the noon-day sun. A strand of Pearls; unequalled quality; Found secure and protected in shells; Rare beads; untold riches; A story of our true love it tells. MARGARET “CHRIS” BARA, Branch 66, New Castle, Penna. THE VALUE OF HUMAN LIFE the value of human life____ Scientists tell us that after transition, chemically, a man’s body is worth about 66c. But what was the life of the departed worth to the loved ones left behind? All that remains is the spirit, the love and thoughts that were shared by the family and friends. These all become intangibles after transition; they can not be reached by touch, for they are elusive, having no definite shape and can be apprehend only by the mind of those left behind. But if the man carried life insurance, this token of loving remembrance is treasured by the ones who will benefit through his generous gift. The value a man places upon his life is shown by the amount of insurance he carries. If he values the happiness and future security of his family, he will also carry sick and accident benefit along with his life insurance. There may be a time when he will be unable to provide for his family, due to illness; which is inevitable in every one’s life. It is then that he will reap the most out of sick benefit. This cash can be used to help pay the bills that will accumulate during the time he can not earn, and keep up payments on the weekly bills that must be met. When he has sick benefit, he does not worry, but has peace of mind, knowing that the bill* will be taken care of. And peace of mind is necessary in order to recuperate from an illness as soon as possible, so he can resume his work. The sick benefit also proves advantageous to the wife for she need not worry about how to balance a budget with no incoming salary. A man can not know just when he will have an accident. He may slip on the ice in winter, or fall down stairs; these small accidents can cause a serious injury that may make an invalid of him for some time to coma. How fortunate if he has had the foresight to carry accident insurance! The Verhovay Fraternal Insurance Association fully protects its members against lose of life, accident and sickness- It is important that family men carry all these important features with their insurance certificates. HELP FINISH THE JOB THE PUPPET KING By KATHRYN RAW “Well!” roared the king in such a gruff voice the beggar boy’s knees knocked loudly together. “What would you of me? Am I responsible for the villagers’ poverty?” “Yes, Sire,” the puppet-boy answered, bravely. “You take all the money from your subjects and leave them in want.” “Hum,” said the king, thoughtfully; stroking his beard, and eyeing the trembling boy before him. “Come here.” The beggar boy moved close. The king reached out and touched his stomach. “Hum,” he said, again. “It is rather empty.” Then events happened so rapidly, that afterward the boy could never tell what really took place. All he could remember was that a big bowl of food was placed before him in the king’s own chamber, and he was told to eat all he could hold. The villagers had a merry Christmas that year; and every year since then. “Ohi” said the boy with the magazines. “If I could only see a king!” “What would you ask the king for?” a man’s voice spoke in the crowd. “I would ask for a violin!” the boy replied, his eyes shining. “I want a violin more than anything else in the world!” “Where do you live?” asked the stranger. “On the other side of town —beyond the tracks.” The man turned and walked slowly away. He was not well dressed, but he had a few dollars in his pocket. He entered a pawn shop and looked around. “Sometime ago, I left a violin here. I would like to redeem it,” he said to the man behind the counter. The instrument was placed in his hands. For- a moment he fondled it, then placed it in the case, closing it tight. “Today I am a king, for I can grant a small boy’s wish,” he said; while the shopkeeper looked at' him strangely. The violinist placed a certain amount of cash in the other’s hand, told him where to deliver the instrument; then turned and left the shop. On Christmas morning, the boy who lived across the tracks, opened the door to a stranger’s knock. It was the p^wn shop keeper, with the encased violin in his hands. “This is for you from a king who wishes you a very Merry Christmas!” he said to the astonished boy. “Thank you!” he answered, taking the gift. “A Merry Christmas to you!” Main Street lay deep in snow. Overhead the sun shone brightly, its rays penetrating through the cold atmosphere. There was no wind—the air was still, and crisp with cold. The snow-storm was over; the sky was a clear blue, dotted with an occasional cloud that looked like a huge snowball hanging in the winter heaven. The shops on Main St. were gaily trimmed with holiday colored ribbons and tinsel. The air that drifted from the fruit shop was filled with the odor of fragrant pine, for the store was well-stocked with the traditional Christmas evergreens. Enticing odors came into the street from the bakery, where holiday pastry was on display in the windows. Ked-frosted gingerbread Santa white icing, were piled profusely on trays covered with paper sely on trays covered with paper lace doilies. The Sugar Bowl—a candy shop just down the street was decorated with green and red paper ribbons; the window was bordered with a row of lollipop sticks—the candy of which was shaped into jolly-looking Santa Clauses. The toy shops contained many articles constructed to amuse children; for Christmas is a season for children. All along the street the lampposts were decorated with sprays of holly that showed bright red berries. Card-board Santa Clauses were fastened near the top and made a pretty sight to behold when the lights glowed at night-time. Crowds of people were hurrying to and fro, eager to complete their last minute holiday shopping. Their arms were laden with parcels of every description. “Merry Christmas!” they called to one another; While their hearts were gladdened by the shouts of the children watching the puppet show in the window of one shop. One boy pushed his way through the crowd, and stood before the window, his nose pressed tight against the cold glass. He was just a small boy, wistful and ill-clothed. His hands clutched a few magazines, which he attempted to sell to passersby. But the puppet show drew his attention, and his magazines were forgotten. The scene beyond the window was typical of the holiday season. There was a quaint, old village at the foot of a mountain, on top of which stood a fine castle, in which the king lived in great wealth; while the people below suffered every privation. There was snow on the village streets, and the marionettepeople hurried back and forth on their many errands, often clapping their hands together to keep them warm. “ ‘Tis a poor Christmas we will be having this year!” a puppetman said to a puppet-lady. “Yes!” she answered, her voice shrill. “But we wouldn’t be so poor if the king did not take every penny from us.” “Not so loud!” another puppetman cautioned her, his finger on his lips. “Fiddlesticks!” she cried. “What more can the king do to harm us? He’s taken our all—we have nothing left for him to take. We are penniless, while he sits up there in his warm castle, counting money—our money—from morning until night!” “I will go and see the king!” a small puppet-boy spoke up. “Ho! Ho! Ho!” laughed the marionettes at his bravery. “And what can a little begger boy like you make our king do for us?” “I don’t know,” he answered, uncertainly. “But I am going to try.” And up the mountain-path he went, leaving the astonished villagers behind. The beggar boy stood before his king, his knees trembling so, he could barely stand straight- But he was brave and stood fearlessly before the cruel puppetking. “Sire,” he began in a trembling voice. “I come from the village below. We are poor people who are hungry and cold. It is Christmas—the time for rejoicing—but we can not rejoice because we haven’t any food to eat, and our clothes are in tatters.”
