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WILL DIG THE HUNS' GRAVE
but
We Must Furnish The Spade" -Bm Sunday
By REV. WILLIAM A. SUNDAY
Uncle Sam's Liberty war chest needs fill
ing again !
We haue the cash to fill it as many times
as he lifts the lid.
There are only two horns to this dilemma
you are either a patriot or a traitor.
The men on the firing line and on the bat
tleships have turned from business, home, mother, wife, children,
and they stand ready to give their lives and shield with their
bodies us who remain at home.
We are unworthy to be thus protected, if
we do not do our utmost to sustain them.
We must be one in our determination to
win this war. We are traitors to the cause for which they are
giving their lives, if we do things here that make their efforts
harder.
1
Life is not worth living unless there is
something to live for. Life would not be worth living if that
bunch of Heinies should win.
That is why they cannot win. That is
why we cannot lose.
What a mountain of crime God has on
his books againts that horde of Hellish Huns. What grave is deep
enough for this thousand-armed, thousand-footed, thousand-head
ed, thousand-horned, thousand-fanged pirate of the air, assassin
of the seas, despoiler of the earth and ambassador of Hell !
The army and navy will dig the grave,
but we must furnish the spade.
Our boys will soon hang crape on the door
of the Potsdam Palace, and the bands will play Yankee-Doodle
and Dixie along the Rhine.
Uncle Sam is the cactus in the kaiser's
pillow.
Our byys have gone over to clean up on
that fool bunch of Huns and it is up to us to supply them with
whatever they need to finish the job. It takes money to keep the
riveters riveting the lawyers sawing -the machine guns spitting
bullets and the grub wagon always on hand with the eats. There
is nothing too good for our brave defenders.
Our vocabulary contains no words ade
quate to express our approval of the achievements of our govern
ment since we threw our hat In the ring. We are rich on top of the
ground; we are rich under the ground and our rivers creep like
silver serpents to the seas, bearing our products.
The children of England, France, Italy
and Belgium are laughing once more because they are being fed
from Uncle Sam's bakeshop. One carload of meat every two
minutes, one hog out of every four, nine million pounds of meat a
day all going over to feed our boys. We are in this scrap to the
last dollar, the last grain of wheat, the last day.
We will never stop until Germany dips her dirty blocd-staincd rag to the Stars and Stripes.
It's a whale of a job we've tackled, but we can and must put it ever.
But you must help.
Don't whine. Don't knock. You can't saw wood with a hammer. Don't turn the hose on the
fire; add fuel.
Buy Bonds!
Buy Bonds! Buy Bonds!
This space Is contributed through co-operation of Harney County Court with liberty Loan Committee