The Register, Wednesday Evening, April 27, 1927
Harborville-By-The-Sea
"I see by the papers" that our young friend, Earle Spicer, Canada's premier Baritone, after conquering Europe, attacked the musical centre of America the other night, making his debut before a highly intellectual audience that packed Steinhart Hall to its capacity. As usual he captured the city. His critics, while "doing their stunt," just to show that they know real singing when they hear it, were on the whole very kind to our Kings County boy, and Boston will be delighted to have the opportunity of hearing him again.
About the most sensible thing I have read in the papers about the Chinese situation, is an article contributed by that versatile humorist, Will Rogers, in which he gets right down to the marrow. He pertinently asks, "Why bother about China?" He tells of her civilization thousands of years before the ancestors of us high-toned inhabitants of America were still hanging from the limbs of trees, and advises us that what ails us is that we are sending too many missionaries to China when what we really need is some Chinese missionaries, to come here and teach us.
Now that our beloved side-partners, our daughters, and yes, even our mothers have been so favored by our weather sharp, as to be able to display their spring apparel on Easter day, things will settle down as usual, and very soon we will be in the throes of the annual housecleaning, and be eating our meals-what few we get-off the head of a barrel in the woodshed. Also our festive agriculturists will be busy plowing their lands, and before we really know it, we will have Apple Blossom Sunday with us again, and our orchardists will be planning on a new Rolls-Royce, or it may be a Ford family aeroplane. Even our fishermen over here will be getting busy, for the fish are already tantalizingly jumping out of the water, inviting them to come out and get them. Somebody should really wire our Premier, informing him of the glorious spring weather we are having, and that there is no need of his remaining any longer down in Bermuda. Come home! Oh, come home, Edgar! We need you so badly. All will be forgiven, and no questions asked.
Lost, Stolen or Strayed from Harborville - one sole and only whale. Last heard from was stranded - or rather reported to be - by Dr. Comstock, in the Cornwallis River at a point near the iron bridge. The whale being a mammal, has to come to the surface to breathe, but does not like to be on the surface all the time; and as your river is mighty shy of water, we will pay a liberal reward for the return of that whale to the waters of the Bay, and our boys will train it to amuse tourists this coming summer.
Our herring fishermen are getting nets staked. A few herring have already been taken. Weir fishermen are still waiting a bit before risking their nets, owing to their belief that we are not yet through with our spring gales.
In some sections of the Bay shore, our farmers are already plowing their fields, and the grass the past few days is putting on a beautiful coat of green on our lawns and sidehills.
The "Ruby L" made her second trip for the season the other day, and after discharging freight sailed for up the Bay.
Captain Isaiah Dixon, accompanied by his sons, Freeman and Everett, and a Norwegian fisherman, arrived from across the Bay, Friday, after disposing of a cargo of apples he had taken from here. He found a ready market and obtained good prices. He and his crew will be active fishing this season.
A late copy of the Needham, Mass., News, devotes eight inches of its valuable space - right on the front page at that - drawing attention to the opening, by our old friend and townsman, Commodore Billy Perry, of the first and only Vulcanizing Tire Service Shop in Needham. Naturally, having learned the value of advertising in our own good old Register, he has a conspicuous advertisement in the same issue. The writer always had an idea that when Billy woke up, and could stay awake long enough to get over the delights of lying in the good old sun, enjoying the Bay breezes, he would do something. I remember his first little vulcanizing shop over here, and how it prospered, considering how few cars were around here. Now he has shown that he is wide awake, recognized good old opportunity when it hit him in the neck, an has opened up for business, right where more cars pass his door in one day then would in either Berwick or Harborville in a whole year. Billy is a worker, and will "make good." I hate to publish this, for fear it may induce some of the few remaining "live ones" we still have with us, to get over to Uncle Sam's country, where there is a show. Here's wishing him the best of luck, anyway.
Here is an example of how we are "done up" in Canada: A leading Cleveland, Ohio, newspaper has a prominent half-page advertisement announcing the fact that you may buy a standard make five-tube radio set, encased in a Console, fully equipped to "tune in," for $99.75, payable at the rate of $2.50 per week. Here in Canada that same set would "set us back" about $250.00. Here's another: Northern Electric peanut tubes, made right here in Canada, by a Canadian company, cost us three dollars per each. You may buy them in the United States three for $1.48. Yet some people wonder why nearly everyone that can make the grade, gets away to the U.S.
How few of us realize how much happiness one lone dollar can pass around. The other night I decided to send my druggist a little on account, for I dare not go back on him, so I looked into the old teapot, and there was just one lone dollar bill, and that immediately set my dream-tank going. I thought, if on the second day of May next ensuing, every man and woman that owed the druggist some money would mail him each one dollar, what it wouldn't do to brother Wilson. Also, if on the same day and date, every subscriber to The Register owing two or more years subscription, would send one lone dollar to apply on account, what it would do to brother Hatfield. He would immediately put on his fighting clothes, get out on your sadly neglected street and hustle up live advertisements enough to make the next issue of The Register an eight-page paper, as a town like Berwick should have. Nothing helps success more than the appearance of success.