My job is that of a motor mechanic and these craft that I build are purely a spare time hobby. Thus I have to get on with their construction as I can afford it; a few shillings or a pound or so at a time. Believe me, this method is exasperating and heartbreaking.

Practically all the parts have been cut, filed and even some of the holes drilled with ordinary hand tools, though I did manage on several occasions to borrow an oxy-acetylene cutter and an electric drill.

I have built this craft entirely by myself except for some of the more tricky points of welding on the hull. This was done by a friend, who is a highly skilled factory welder.

This submarine has been built entirely out of second-hand steel plates and scrap from local yards. Oxygen cylinders, motors, batteries, and the like are all from government surplus sales. The only new items are the glass observation ports and some rivets and bolts.

This young British atomic technician is getting his whiskers chopped at the hands of a "barber" on the other side of the thick glass wall (rear). These mechanical hands will be used in delicate "hot chemistry" work enabling the chemist to stand behind shielding and well beyond deadly radiation.

Listen, my inner self, remember and obey this creed of life: Live relaxed, completely and utterly relaxed... Love, rule my life. Love God, my family, and others... Have faith... work with others... Face life without fear, be calm, unafraid... Know myself and my faults... live without alcohol... Alcohol is a poison. I do not need alcohol. Abstain with ease. Alcohol is repulsive to me...

I am truly happy. I give my life to my family, to my friends, and to the world. I am filled with love and compassion for all, so help me God.

For three years now the sleep therapy program has been in operation. Locke and his associates are careful to admit that it will be at least three years more before anything conclusive can be deduced from the careful check they keep on prisoners after their release.

Almost from the beginning though, the guards at the road camps noticed that the young inmates did not cause the same amount of trouble they had created formerly and were surprised when prisoners started coming to them for counsel.

What is probably most indicative of the therapy's effect is the decrease in alcoholism revealed by surveys among ex-prisoners.

I understand that the manufacturers of men's and boys' clothing are fretting right smart these days because Paw and Sonny are not buying enough wearing garments. they note that in the past 10 years spending for autos has increased 133 per cent and for male clothing only four per cent.

So they have got themselves organized and are blowing in all kinds of cash trying to educate the menfolks on the value of being properly garbed.

They are running ads, for instance, showing Teenage Daughter appealing tearfully to Mom: "Couldn't Daddy stay upstairs when Jimmy comes for me?" Or Young Husband telling his smock-clad wife, "I didn't get the promotion, Tom did." Or Big Boss saying earnestly, "John we are putting a new man in your territory."

Frankly, I think this is Grade A garbage, and I predict the pants peddlers are going to find the American male is tough to brainwash. Hit him with the slogan, "You can't afford not to dress right," and he'll come back with one of his own: "You can't suit everyone."

In the first place, a lot of men don't care how their clothes look. They are dogs and they are satisified if you toss them an old herringbone now and then. You won't change them any more than you will make a clotheshorse out of the boy who hasn't yet found out that girls can be more interesting than frogs and fishhooks.

In the second place, papa's pocketbook is taking a bigger beating than ever before from the piper, the baker, the hair dresser, the TV repairman, the grocer, etc. He's having to make that 1954 suit do from necessity. And if there should be anything left over, he'd a sight rather blow it on a new spinning reel than an Ivy League jacket.

My advice to the hungry haberdashery huckster is to get out of men's wear into something feminine. Our lady folk, bless them, will buy a bundle of glad rags quicker than you can say "20 per cent off." And Daddy-O will growl but he'll love 'em for it.