Fe Bellefonte, Pa., February 21, 1902 COMING AGAIN. Little grains of quinine—capsules, tablets, pills, Little gulps of whisky, little shakes from chills, Little rounds of sneezing, little weeps of tears. Hully gee! The grip again: You had cause for fears. Tell your friends about it. Let them all pre- seribe. They’ll enjoy it, never fear, while you will im- bibe Information that you never thought they had at hand— Know a whole lot more than all the doctors in the land. “Take a little this and that: “Drink a lot of milk “Just a gulp of Breakitup: you'll feel fine as silk.” * “Take a tonic ;” “Take a rest :’ “Take a dose of that; “Don’t take anything at all!” (Paste that in your hat.) ‘‘Honey, tar and sassafras; *“Camphor, brandy, ing ;” ‘‘Eat a beefsteak twice a day;” Starve the grip —get thin.” “Drink more coffee ;” “*Stop the habit, and you will get well ;° “Lard and goose greese is the ticket—never mind the smell,” * * * * * * * * So it goes. When they have finished, giving you 80 much advice. Smile and thank them—tell them kindly that they're very kind and nice Then, when you are through your troubles, when the doctor's got you sound, Tell each ove the thing he told you was the thing that brought you ‘round. — Cincinnati Commercial. ARDELIA IN ARCADY, When first the young ladv from the Col- lege Settlement dragged Ardelia from her | degradation—she was sitting on a dirty pavement and throwing assorted refuse at an unconscious policeman—Ilike many of her companions in misery, she totally fail- ed to realize the pit from which she was digged. It had never occurred to her that her situation was anything less than refin- ed, and though, like most of ug, she had failed to come up to her wildest ideals of happiness, in that respect she differed very Jistle from the young lady who rescued er. ‘Come here, little girl,’’ said the young lady invitingly. ‘‘Wonldn’t you like to come with me and have a nice, cool bath 2” “Naw I’? said Ardelia, in tones rivaling the bath in coolness. “You wouldn’t? Well, wouldn’t you like some bread and butter and jam 23 ‘“Wha's jam?’ said Ardelia conserva- tively. “Why, it's—er—marmalade,’’ the young lady explained. “All sweet, you kuow.’’ “Naw !”” aud Ardelia turned away and fingered the refuse with au air of finality that caused _ the young lady to sigh with vexation. ‘I thought you might like to go ona picnic,”’ she said helplessly. “I thought all little girls liked ——’’ ‘Picnic? When ?”’ cried Ardelia, moved instantly to interest. ‘I'm goin’ !”’ She brushed the garbage from her dress —Ardelia was of that emancipated order of women who disapprove of the senseless multiplication of feminine garments. and wore, herself, but one—and regarded her rescuer impatiently. “What's the matter?’ she asked. “‘I’'m all ready. Hump along !’ “We'll goand ask Your mother first, won’t we 2"? suggested the young lady, a little bewildered at this sudden change of attitude. . “Jagged,” Ardelia returned - *‘She’d lift y’r face off yer ! pienic ?’ The young lady shuddered, and seizing the band which she imagined to have had least to do with the refuse, she led Ardelia away—the first stage of her journey to Ar- cady. Ardelia’s origin, like that of the civiliza- tion of ancient Egypt, was shrouded in mystery. At the age of two months she had been handed to a policeman by a scared looking buy, who said vaguely that he laconically. Is it the Dago found her in the park under a bench. The policeman had added her to other found- lings waiting that day at headquarters, and carried them to the matron of the institu- tion devoted to their interest. Around the other baby’s neck was a medal of the Blessed Virgin. and a slip of paper pinned to her flannel petticoat labeled her Mary Katharine. The impartial order of the in- stitution therefore delivered Ardelia, who was wholly unlabeled, to the Protestant fold, and one of the scrubbing women nam- er, Later she had taken up her residence with Mrs. Michael Fahey, who had con- sented to add to her precarious income by this means, and at the age of four she he- came the official nurse of Master John Sul- livan Fahey. A terribly hot August, un- limited cold tea, and a habit of playing in the gutter in the noon glare proved too much for her charge, and he died on his third birthday. = The ride to the funeral was the most exciting event in Aidelia’s life. For years she dated from it. Mrs, Fahey had 80 long regarded her as one of the family, that though her occupation was gone, and her hoard was no longer paid, she was whipped as regularly and corsed as compre- hensively, in her foster mother’s periodical #prees, as if they had heen closely related. What time she could spare from helping Murs. Fahey in her somewhat casual house- hold labor, and running errands to tell that lady’s perennially hopeful employers that her mother wasn't feeling well today, but would it do if she came tomorrow, Ardelia spent in playing up and down the street with a band of little girls, or, in the very hottest days, sitting drowsy and vindictive at the head flight of stone steps that led into a down stairs saloon. The damp, flat, beer-sweetened air that rushed out as the men pushed open the swing doors was cool and refreshing to her; she was in a position to observe any possible customers ab the three push carts in her line of vision, and could rouse a flagging interest in life by listening to any one of the altercations that resoundéd from the tenements ‘night and day. Drays clattered incessantly over the pavement, peddlers shouted, sharp gongs punctuated the steadier din. A po- liceman was almost always in sight, and one « ot Siew, Mr, Ratloms, had more than once given her a penny for lemonade, In the room above her ‘ead an Italian band waa pertoohy hapa oe aed then, Arfelin y or she ‘music. Often before the band. would station itself at ¢ delia and the other little bou singly and in ey about, irs, shouting th tunes they knew, RE houting the rejoicing in the compara- tive coolness and the generally care free at- mosphere. Ardelia was the lightest footed of them all; her hands held her skirts out almost gracefully, her thin little legs flew highest. Sometimes the saloon keeper— they called him ‘Old Dutchy’’—wounld nod approval as Ardelia skipped and pranced, and beckoned her to him mysteriously. " “You trow your legs goot,’’ he would say. ‘‘We shall see you already dancing, no? Here is an olluf; eat her.” And Ardelia, who loved olives to distrac- tion, would nibble off small, sour, salty mouthfuls and suck the pit luxuriously, whileshe listened to the Italian band. Except for Mrs. Fahey’s errands, which never carried her far off the street, Ardelia had never left it in her life, and her journey to the settlement house was one of interest to her. She was a silent child, but for oc- casional fits of gabbling and chattering with the little girls in the street; and though she did not understand why the young lady from the Settlement should ery when she introduced her to two other ladies, nor why so many messages should be left for her mother, and so many local and general baths administered, she said very little. She was not accustomed to question fate, and when it sent her two fresh eggs—she re- fused to eat them hoiled—for her breakfast, she quietly placed them in the credit col- umn as opposed to the baths, and held her peace. Later, ariayed in starched and creaking ing garments which bad been made for a slightly smaller child, she was transported to the station, and for the first time intro- duced to a railroad car. She sat stiffly on the red plush seat with furtive eyes and sucked-in lips, while the young lady talked reassuringly of daisies and cowsand gieen grass. As Ardelia had never seen any of these things, it is hardly surprising that she was somewhat unenthusiastic; but the young lady was disappointed by this lack of ardor. She was so thoroughly convinced of the essential right of every child toa healthy country life, that she was almost disposed to blame Ardelia for not sharing her emi- nently creditable conviction. “You can roll in the daisies, my dear, and pick all you want—all I’? she urged eagerly. But no answering gleam woke in Ardelia’seyes. ‘Aw right,”’ she answered guardedly, and stared into her lap. ‘Look ont, dear, and see the fields and houses—see that handsome dog, and see the little pond !"’ Ardelia shot a quick glance at the blur- ring green that dizzied her as it rushed by; the train was a fast express making up for lost time. Then with a scowl she resumed the contemplation of her starched gingham lap. The sweltering hot day, and the rapid unaccustomed motion combined to: afflict her with a strange internal anticipation of future woe. Once last summer, when she ate the liquid dregs of the ice cream man’s great tin, and fell asleep in the room where her mother was frying onions, she had ex- perienced this same foreboding, and the climax of that dreadful day lingered yet in her memory. So she set her teeth and waited with stoical resignation for the end, while the young lady babbled of green fields, and wondered why the child should be so sullen. Finally she laid it to home- sickness, and recovered her faith in human nature. At last they stopped. The young lady sighed, seized her hand, and led her through the narrow aisle, down the steep steps, across the little conntry-station plat- form, and Ardelia was in Arcady. A bare legged boy in blue overalls and a wide straw hat then drove them many miles along ‘a hot, dusty road wound endlessly through the parched country fields. To the young lady’s remark that they needed rain sadly, he replied, “Yep!” and held bis peace for the following hour. Oeca- sionally they passed another house, but for the most part the only sight or sound of life was afforded by the hens clucking angrily as the travelers drove them from their dust baths in the powdery road. Released from her horror of foreboding, Ardelia took a more apparent interest in her situation,and would perbaps have spoken if her chaperon had opened conversation ; but the young lady was weary of such efforts, disposed to a headache from the blinding heat, and al- together inclined to silence. At last they turned into a driveway, and drew up be- fore a gray wooden house. Ardelia, cramp- | ed with sitting still, for she had not altered her position since she was placed stiffly on the seat between her fellow passengers, was lifted down and escorted up the shingle walk to the porch. A spare, dark eyed woman in a checked apron advanced to meet them. *“Terrible hot today, ain’t it?’ she sigh- ed. ‘I'mreal glad to see vou, Miss For- sytbe. Won't you cool off.a little before you go on? This is the little girl. s’pose. I guess it's pretty cool to what she’s acous- tomed to, ain’t it, Delia ?’’ ‘No, I thank you, Mus. Slater, I'll go right on tothe house. Now, Ardelia, here You are in the country. I’m staying with my friend in a big white iiouse about a mile further on. 3 can’t see it from here, but if you wantanything you can just walk over. Day after tomorrow is the pic- nic I told you about. You'll see me then, anyway. Now run right out in the grass and pick all the daisies you want. Don’t be afraid ; no one will drive you off this grass !"’ The force of this was lost on Ardelia, who had never heen driven off any grass what- ever, but she gathered that she was expect- ed to walk out into the thick rank growth of the unmowed side yard, and strode downward obediently, turning when in the exact center of the plot for farther orders. ‘Now piek them ! Pick the daisies!” cried Miss Forsythe excitedly. ‘‘I want to see you.’’ Ardelia looked blank. ‘*Huh ?’ she said. ‘ ‘Gather them ! Get a bunch! Oh, you poor child ! Mrs. Slater, she doesn’t know how !”” Miss Forsythe was deeply moved, and illustrated by picking jmaginary daisies on the porch. Ardelia’s quic eyes followed her gestures, and stooping, she scooped the heads from three daisies and started back with them, staring distrustful- ly into the depths of the thick clinging grass as she pushed through it. Miss Forsy- the grasped. “No, no, dear ! Pull them up! Take the stem, t0o,”’ she explained. ‘‘Pick the whole flower !”’ 40 Ardelia bent over again, tugged ata thick stemmed clover, brought it up by the roots, recovered her balance with difficulty, and assaulted aneighboring daisy. On tnis she cut her hands, and sucking off the blood angrily, she grabbed a handful of coarse grass, and plowing through the tangled mass about her fect, laid the spoils awk- wardly on the young lady’s lap. Miss Forsyth stared at the dirty, trailing’ ig that stained her linen skirt and sigh- “Thank you, dear,” she said politely, ‘but I meant them for you. I meant for you to have a bunch. Don’t you want them 2? ! said Ardelia decidedly, nursing her out hand and of ¢ ‘Naw !” ng with relief on the sinooth floor fiping : IS aa Miss Forsythe’s eyes brightened sudden- ly. “I know what vou want,’’ she cried; “you're thirsty ! Mrs. Slater, won't you get us some of your good. creamy milk ? Don’t you want a drink, Ardelia 2” Ardelia nodded. She felt very tired and the glare of the sun seemed reflected from everything into her dazed eyes. When Mrs. Slater appeared with the foaming yel- low glasses she wound her nervous little hands about the stem of the goblet and be- gan a deep draught. She did not like it, it was hard to swallow, aud instinct warned her not to go on with it; but all the thirst of a long morning—Ardelia was used to drinking frequently—urged her on, and its icy coldness enabled her to finish the glass She banded 1t back with a deep sigh. The young lady clapped her hands. “There !”” she cried. ‘‘Now, how do yon like real milk. Ardelia? I declare, you look like another child, already ! You can have all you want every day—why, what’s the matter 2”? For Ardelia was growing ghastly pale be- fore them; her eyes turned inward, her lips tightened. A blinding horror surged from her toes upward, and the memory of the liquid ice cream and the frying onions fad- ed before the awful reality of the present agony. Later, as she lay limp and white on the slippery hair cloth sofa in Mrs. Slater's musty parlor, she heard them discussing her situation. . ‘‘There was a lot of Fresh Air children over at Mis’ Simms’s’” her hostess explain- ed, ‘‘and they ‘most all of ‘em said the milk was too strong—did you ever! Two or three of em was sick, like this one, but they got to love it ina little while. She will, too.”’ Ardelia shook her head feebly. She had learned her lesson. If success. as we are told, consists not in omitting to make mis- takes, hut in omitting to make the same one twice, Ardelia’s treatment of the milk question was eminently successful. After awhile Miss Forsythe went away, and at her urgent suggestion Ardelia came out and sat on the porch under the shade of a black umbrella. She sat motionless,star- ing into the grass, lost in the rapture of content that follows such a crisis as her re- cent misery, forgetful of all her earthly woes in the hlessed certainty of her present calm. In afew minutes she was asleep. When she awoke she was in a strange place. Outside the umbrella all was dusk and shadow. Only a square white nist filled the place of the barn, the tall trees loomed vaguely toward the daik sky, the stars were few. As she gazed in half terror about her, a stiange jangling came nearer and nearer, and a great animal with sSwing- ing sides, panting terribly, ran clumsily hy followed by a bare legged hoy, whose thud- ding feet sounded loud on the beaten path. Ardelia shrank against the wall with a cry that brought Mrs. Slater vo her side. ‘There, there, Delia, it’s only a cow. She won’t hurt you. She gives the milk,’ Ardelia shuddered-—*‘‘and the butter, too. Here's some bread and butter for you. We've had our supper, but I thonght the sleep would do you more good.” Still shaken by the shock of that panting hairy beast, Ardelia put out her hand for the hread and butter, and ate it greedily. Then she stretched her cramped limbs and looked over the umbrella. On the porch sat a bearded man in shirt sleeves and stocking feet, his head thrown back against his cbair, his mouth open. He snored audibly. Tipped back in another chair, his feet raised and pressed against one of the supports of the porch roof, sat a young- er man. He was not asleep, for he was smoking a pipe, but he was as motionless as the other. Curled up on the steps was the boy who had brought them from the station. Occasionally he patted a mongrel collie beside him, and yawning, stretched himself, but he did not speak. ‘That’s Mr. Slater,”’ said the woman softly, ‘‘and the young man is my oldest son, William. Henry brought you up with the team. They’re out in the field all day, and they get pretty tired. It gets nice an’ cool out here by evenin’, don’t it?" She leaned back and rocked silently to and fro, and Ardelia waited for the events of the evening. There were none. She wondered why the gas was not lit in all the shadowy darkness, why the people didn’s come along. She felt scared and lonely. Now that her stomach was filled, and her nerves refreshed by her long sleep, she was in a condition to realize that aside from all bodily discomfort she was sad—very sad. A new, unknown depression weighed her down. It grew steadily, something was | happening, something constant and mourn- ful—what ? Suddenly she knew. It was a steady, recurrent noise, a buzzing, monot- onous elick. Now it rose, now itfell, ac- centuating the silence dense about it. ‘Zig-a-zig! Zig-a-zig I’ then a rest. “Zig-a-zig! Zig-a-zig-a-zig I’ She looked restlessly at Mrs. Slater. ‘“Wha's at ?’’ she said. ‘That? Ob, those are katydids. I s’pose you never heard ‘em, that’s a fact. Kind o’ cozy. I think. Don’t you like em 27:1 ‘‘Naw,”? said Ardelia. Another long silence intervened. The rocking chair swayed bask and forth, and My. Slater snored. Little bright eyes glow- ed and dieappeared, now low, against the dark. It will never be known whether Ardelia thought them defective gas lights or the flashing changing electric signs that add color to the night advertisements of her native city, for contrary to all fictional pre- cedent, she did not inquire with interest what they were. Shedid not care, in fact. _ Alter half av. hour of the katydids, Wil- liam spoke. i Reri ‘Nick Damon's helpin’ in the south lot t'day,’’ he observed. ha ‘Was he ?”’ asked his mother, pausing a moment in her rocking. Yep.” Again he smoked, and the monotonous clamor was uninterrapted. Zig-a-zig! Zig-a-zig! Ziz-a-zig-a-zig Slowly, against the background of this machine like clicking, there grew other sounds, weird, unhappy, far away. 6“ Wheep, wheep, wi m This was a high, thin crying. ‘‘Buroom ! Brrroom! broom!’ This was low and resonant and solemn. Ardelia scowled. ; : “What's ’at?"’ she asked again. “That's the frogs. Bull frogs and peep- ers, Never heard them either, did ye? Well. that’s what they are.’’ William took his pipe ont of his mouth. ‘‘Come here, sissy, 'n I'll tell y’ a story,’ he said lazily. : 5 ‘Ardelia obeyed, and glancing timorously at the shadows, slipped around to his side. *“Onc’t they was an ol’ feller comin’ "long cross lots, late at night, an’ he come to a pond, an; he kinder stopped up an’ says to imself, ‘Wonder how deep th’ ol’ pond is, anyhow ?’ He was just a leetle—well, he’d had a drop too much y’ see——?’ ‘Had a what?’ interrupted Ardelia. ‘‘He was sort of rollin’ 'round~he didn’t know just what he was doin’—" ; 08 ! jagged !"’ said Ardelia comprehiend- ngiy. ; : ‘I guess so. An’ he heard a voice sing- in’ out, ‘Knee deep! Knee deep! Knee deep rp » % William gave a startling imitation of the peepers; his voice was a high, shrill wail. ‘* ‘Oh, well,’ 8’ he, ‘if it’s just knee deep I'll wade through, an’ he starts in. ‘‘Just then he hears a big fellow singin’ out, ‘Better go rrrround ! Better go rrround ! bettergoround I’ 7’ Wiliiam rolled out a vibrating base note that startled the bull frogs themselves. *“‘Lord I" says he, ‘isits’ deep’s that? Well, I'll goround, then.’ ’N’ off he starts to walk around. *‘ ‘Knee deep! Knee deep! Knee deep!’ says the peepers. ‘‘An’ there it was. Soon’s he'd start to do one thing, they’d tell him another. Make up his mind he conldn’t, so he stands therg still, they do say, askin’ ‘em every night which he hetter do.” ‘‘Stands where ?’’ Ardelia looked feaiful- Is behind her. “Oh, T d’know. mabbe.”’ Again he smoked, and the younger hoy chuckled. Time passed by. To Ardelia it might have been minutes, hours or generations. An unspeakable boredom, an ennui that struck to the roots of her sonl, possessed Oat in that swamp, her. Her muscles twitched from nervons- ness. Her feet ached and burned in the stiff boots. Suddenly Mr. Slater coughed and arose. “Well, guess I’ll be gettin’ to bed,’” he said. ‘‘Come on, boys. Hello, little girl ! Come to visit with us, hey? Mind you don’t pick poison vine.’’ He shuffled into the house, and the hoys followed him in silence. Mis. Slater led Ardelia upstairs into a little hot room, and told her to get into bed quick, for the lamp drew the mosquitoes. Ardelia kicked off her shoes and ap- proached the bed distrustfully. It sank down with her weight and smelled hot and queer. Rolling off, she stretched herself ou the floor, and lay there disconsolately. Sharp, quick stabs from the swarming mosquitoes stung her to rage; she tossed about, slapping at them with exclamations that would haveshocked Mrs. Slater. The eternal chatter 'of the katydids maddened her. She could not sleep. Across the swamp came the wail of the peepers. **Knee.deep! Knee deep! Knee deep I’? At home the hardy-gurdy was playing, the women were gossipping on every step, the lights were everywhere—the blessed fearless gas lights—the little girls were dancing in the breeze that drew in from the East River, Old Dutchy was giving Maggie Kelly an olive. Ardelia slapped viciously at a mosquito on her hot cheek, heard a great June Lug flopping into the 100m through the looseiy waving netting, and burst into tears of pain and fright, wrap- ping her head tightly in her gingham skirt. In the morning Miss Forsythe came over to inquire after her charge’s health, accom- panied by another young lady. ‘How do you do, my dear?’ said the new lady kindly. ‘‘How terribly the mos- quitoes have stung yon! What makes vou stay in the house. and miss the beautifnl fresh air? See that great plot of daisies— does she know that she can pick all she wants, poor little thing! I suppose she never had a chance! Come out with me, Ardelia, and let’s see which can pick the biggest bunch.” ] And Ardelia, fortified by ham and eges, | went stolid’y forth into the grass and si- lIently attacked the daisies. In the middle of her bunch the new young lady paused. “Why. Ethel. she isn’t barefoot !"”’ she cried. ~‘‘Come here, Ardelia, and take off your shoes and stock- directly. Shoes and stocking in the coun- try ! Now you’ll know what comfort is,” as she unlaced the boots rapidly on the porch. ‘'Ob, she’s been barefoot in the city,” ex- plained Miss Forsythe, ‘‘but this will be different, of course.’’ And so it was, but not in the sense she intended. To patter about bare legged on she bare, safe pavement, was one thing ; to venture unprotected into the waving, trip- piug tangle was another. She stepped cau- tiously upon the short grass near the house, and with jaw set and narrowed lids felt her way into the high growth. The ladies clapped their hands at her happiness and freedom. Suddenly she stopped, she shriek- ed, she clawed the air with ontspread fin- gers. Her face was gray with terror. ‘Oh gee! Oh gee !’? she screamed. ‘What is it, Awdelia, what is it?’ they cried, lifting up their skirts in sympathy. ‘A snake ?”’ Mis. Slater rushed out seized Aidelia, half rigid with fear, and eartied her to the poreh. They elicited from her as she sat with her feet tucked under her and one ‘hand convulsively clutching Mrs, Slater's apron that something had ruastled by her, **down at the bottom,’ that it wasslippery, and she had stepped on it and wanted to go home. “Only a little hop toad, Delia, that wouldn’t harm a baby, let alone a big girl nine years old, like you.” But Ardelia, chattering with nervousness, wept for her shoes, and =at high and dry in a rocking chair for the rest of the morning. ‘“‘She’s a queer child,’”” Mrs. Slater con- fided to the yonng ladies. “Not a drop of anything will she drink but cold tea. It don’t seem reasonable to give it to her all day, and I won’t do it, so she has to wait till meals. She makes a face if I say milk, and the water tastes slippery, she says, and salty like. She won’t touch it. I tell her it’s good well water, but she just shakes her head. She’s stubborn’s a bronze mule, that child. ’Smorning she asked me when did the parades go by. I told her there wa'u’6 any but the circus, an’ that has been already. I tried to cheer her up, sort of, with that Fresh Air picnic of yours tomor- row, Miss Foisythe, an’ s’she, ‘Oh, the Da- go picnic!” a’she; ‘will they have Tony’s band #”’ *‘She don’t seem to take any int’rest in th’ farm, like those Fresh Air children, either. I showed her the hens an’ the eggs, an’ she said it was a lie about the hens lay- in’ ’em. ‘What d’you take me for?’ s'she. The idea! Then Henry milked the cow,to show her—she wouldn’s believe that, eith- er—and with the milk streamin’ down be- fore her, what do you s’pose she said ? ‘yon put it in,’ s’she. I never should ’a’believ- ed that, Miss Forsythe, if1 hadn’t heard it!’ *‘Ob, she’ll get over it,’’ said Miss For- sythe easily; ‘‘just wait a few days. Good- by, Ardelia, eat a good supper.”’ But this Ardelia did not do. She gazed fascinated at Mr. Slater, who loaded his fork with green peas, shot them into his mouth, and before disposing of them ultimately added to them half a slice of 1ye bread and a great gulp of tea in one breath, “repeating this operation at regular intervals in voracious silence. She regarded William who consumed eight large molasses cookies and three glasses of frothy milk, as a mere after thought to the meal, gulping furious- ly. He never e. Henry she dared not look at, for he burst into laughter when- ever she did, and oried out, ‘‘You pus it in! You pus itin I’ whioh irritated her exceedingly. But she kpew that he was | biting great round bites ont of countless | slices of huttered bread,and in utter silence. Now Ardelia had never in her life eaten in silence. Mrs. Fahey, when eating, gossip- ed and fought alternately with Mr. Fahey’s old, half blind mother ; her son Danny, in a state of chronic dismissal from his various ‘‘jobs,’’ sang, wkistled, and performed clog dances under the table during the meal; their neighbors across the narrow hall shrieked her comments, friendly or other- wise; and all around and above and below resounded the busy noise of the crowded, clattering city street. It was the breath in ber nostrils, the excitement of her nervous little life, and this cold blooded stoking took away her appetite, never large. Through the open door the buzz of the katydids was beginning tentatively. In the intervals of William’s gulps a faint base note warned them from the swamp. “Better go rrround! Beiter go round!’ Mrs. Slater filled their plates in silence. Henry slapped a mosquito and chuckled in- teriorly at some reminiscence. A cow bell jangled sadly out of the gathering dusk. Ardelia’s nerves strained and snapped. Her eyes grew wild. “Fer Gawd’s sake, falk!’ she cried sharply. ‘‘Are youse dumbies ?”’ The morning dawned fresh and fair ; the trees and the brown turf smelled sweet, the homely barnyard noises brought a smile to Miss Forsythe's sympathetic face, as she waited for Ardelia to join her in a drive to the station. But Ardelia did not smile. Her eves ached with the great, green glare, the strange scattered objects, the long, un- accustomed vistas. Her cramped feet wearied for the smooth pavements, her ears hungered for the dear, familiar din. She scowled at the winding, empty road ; she | shrieked at the passing oxen. At the station Miss Forsythe <hook her limp little hand. *'Good-by, dear,’ she said. *‘I'll bring the other little children back with me. You’ll enjoy that. Good hy.” “I'm comin’ too,’’ said Ardelia. **Why, no, dear—you wait for us. You'd only turn around and come right back, you know,” urged Miss Forsythe, secretly A Cooking School Chapter, A recent lesson at a cooking school dealt with veal cutlets with brown sauce, potato salad, milk sherbet, and Boston cookies. The work was divided up among a class of eight pupils, and in two hours a delicious luncheon was served. ‘We have here a thick slice of veal cut from the lew,’”’ said the teacher, Miss Downing. ‘“‘Eight out of ten people are prejudiced against veal. They complain that it is tough and tasteless.” The fault lies more in the cooking than in the meat. If you get veal that is worth buying im- prove it by careful cooking. Vealis the meat of the immature creature; consequent- ly needs long, slow cooking. Wipe off the veal, then take a sharp knife and divide into small, neat fillets. Cut out the round bone in the middle and pare away every particle of skin. fat and gristle, then put in a small saucepan with one and one-half cups of cold water to make the stock for the brown sance. Cut the meat into neat fillets about three inches by two. If there are any long, irregular-shaped pieces roll them and fasten with small wooden Skew- ers or toothpicks. Sprinkle with salt and pepper and dip in flour, then in egg and bread crumbs. Fry out some thin slices of salt pork in an omelet pan and put the veal in to fry slowly till well browned. Prepare a brown sauce from the stock made from the trimmings of the veal. Brown three tablespoonfuls of butter, add three tablespoonfuls of flour and stir well till it is brown. Pour in gradually the stock, season with pepper, lemon juice, salt and a tablespoonful of Worcestershire sauce. Strain and pour over the veal. Set it back on the stove where it will simmer, and al- low it to cook very slowly 40 minutes. Ar- range on a hot platter, strain the sauce over it and garnish with parsley.”’ Miss Downing gave a practical illustra- tion of how to cata cold potato into neat cubes for a salad. Holding it upright in her left hand, she sliced into it with a sharp vegetable knife, cutting in long deep slices nearly to the end of the potato. Then she turned it and cut into it the other way till it was merely a handful of strips held to- gether by one uncut end. Holding it over touched hy this devotion to herself. “*Come back nothin’,’’ said Ardelia dog- | gedly. “I'm goin’ home.’ “Why, why, Ardelia! Don’t you really | like it 2" | ‘‘Naw, it’s too hot.” Miss Forsythe stared. “But, Ardelia, voudon’t want to go back to that horrible smelly street ? Not truly 2°’ ‘‘Betcher life I do !"’ said Ardelia. The train steamed in; Miss Forsythe mounted the steps uneasily. Ardelia eling- ing to her hand. ‘It’ so lovely and quiet,” the young lady pleaded. Ardeliashuddered. Again she seemed to hear that fiendish, mournful wailing : ‘Knee deep! Knee deep! Knee deep I’? “It seems so goml, Ardelia! All the green things!” Good ! that hot, rustling hreeze of noon- day, that damp and empty evening wind ! They rode in silence. Bat the jar and jolt of the engine made music in Ardelia’s ears, The crying of the hot babies, the familiar jargon of the newshody : “N’Yawk moyning paypers! Woyld ! Joynal I’ were a breath from home to her little cockney heart. They pushed through the great station, they climbed the steps to the elevated track they jingled on a cross town car ; and at a familiar corner Ardelia slipped loose her hand, uttered a grunt of joy, and Miss For- sythe looked for her in vain. She was gone. But late in the evening, when the great city turned out to breathe, and sat with opened shirt and loosened bodice on the dirty steps; when the hurdy gurdy execut- ed brassy scales and the lights flared in end- less sparkling rows; when the trolley gongs at the corner pierced theair and feet tapped cheerfully down the cool stone steps of the beer shop, Ardelia, barefooted and aban- doned, nibbling at a section of hologna sau- sage, secure in the hope of an olive tocome, cake walked insolently with a band of lit- tle girls behind a severe policeman, mock- his stolid gait, to the delight of Old Dutchy who beamed approvingly at ner prangings. ‘Ja, ja, you trow out your feet goot. Some day we pay to see you, no? You like to get back already 2’ Ardelia performed an audacious pas seul and reached for her olive. ‘‘Ja, danky shun, Dutchy,’’ she said air- ily, and as the hurdy gurdy moved away, and the ohoe of the Italian band began to run up and down the scale, she sank upon her cool step, stretched her toes and sighed. “Gee!” she murmured, “N'Yawk’s the place P'—By Josephine Dodge Daskam, in February McClure’s Magazine. Big Cases, Big Fees. A business enterprise must be highly profitable to obtain the exclusive services, for any purpose, of a lawyer who is at the top of the New York bar. Lawyers’ serv- ices when they are in demand here carry terrffic charges. Some of the high-priced legal talent of this market belongs to John E. Parsons, Joseph H. Choate and Elihu Root. Choate charges anything he pleases’ and gets it. John E. Parson got $100,000 for drawing up Sugar Trust articles of in- corporation. Elihn Root’s charge for go- ing into court is $1,000 a day. Both Choate, as Ambassador to the Conit of St. James, and Root, as Secretary of War, are out a lot of money in the services of their country. In a court Root could make his yearly salary as Secretary of War in a week. { EE ————————— A Pigeon Ranch. The only pigeon ranch in the world is at Los Angeles, Cal. It covers eight acres and its gigantic lofts shelter 15,000 birds. It was started three years ago with 2,000. Nearly 250 dozen squabs are sold each month excepting in the moulting season, when the supply is only one-quarter as much. They bring $3 a dozen in Los An- geles and sometimes $10 when scarce. The 00st of feeding is over $5 a meal, the flock consuming daily one wagon load of screen- ings, two sacks of wheat and twelve gallons of boiled meal. They also have three bar- rels of stale bread soaked in water during the week. The pigeons never leave the ranch and seldom does one get beyond the wire fence that surrounds the yard. A clear shallow stream runs through the place, furnishing an excellent bathing and drinking place. 5 The Wives of Great Men all Remind Us. Admiral Schley, in one of his Southern speeches, went beyond what Mrs. Schley considered the proper limit, and she told him to stop. And the Admiral obeyed. He is in good company. At the foot-ball me between the Army and Navy Mrs. Bog vels had to gall he) President fo order, years rs. Webster ¢ at Daniel’s coet tails when he ge us | parsley. a bowl she cut it into slices, and the potato was neatly and deftly sliced into half-inch cubes. Four cuptuls of this neatly chop- ped potato were used for the salad. The potato was sprinkled with pepper and salt, then a French dressing was made, DRESSING FOR POTATO SALAD. ‘For the dressing,’’ said the teacher ‘‘pour six tablespoonsfuls of oil into a cap and add to it two tablespoonsfuls of vine- gar. Cut the end of an onion and scrape from it finely a few drops of juice, stir it into the dressing. Slowly pour the dress- ing over the potatoes and allow it to mari- nate for an hour. Boil two eggs hard, and when cool separate the yolks from the whites. Chop the whites fine till they look like grated cocoanut and press the yolks throngh a potato ricer. Arrange the potatoes on a flat glass dish in a mound, divide into four quarters, separating each portion from the other by a garnishing of Cover two opposite sides with chopped beets, one quarter with the riced yolks of eggs, the other with the whites. Pat small sprigs of parsley in lines divid- ing the beets from the egps: also garnish with parsley at the base.’’ AND NEXT THE COOKIES. The Boston cookies were delicious. These are rich fruit cookies, which can be put away and kept for weeks. Age will im- prove their flavor. Here is the recipe : One cup of butter, one and one-half cups sugar, three eggs, one teaspoonful soda, one and one-half tablespoonfnls hot water, three and oue-fourth cups flour, one-half teaspoonful salt, one teaspoonful cinnamon, one cup of chopped walnuts. one-half cup currants, one-half cup seeded chopped rai- sins. Cream the butter, add the sugar gradually and eggs well beaten. Add soda dissolved in water, half the flour mixed and sifted with salt and cinnamon, then add nuts, meats, fruit and remaining flour. Drop by spoonfuls one inch apart on a but- tered sheet and bake in a moderate oven. MILK SHERBET. The milk sherbet was an idealized form of common sherbet make from milk and lemon juice. The result was an ice cream with a smooth, rich creaminess and a de- licious tang of sourness, an agreeable con- trast to the sweetness of the majority of frozen desserts. Here is the recipe : Four cups of milk, one and one-half cups of sugar, juice of three lemons, juice of one orange. Mix the juice of the fruit and sugar till half melted, then pour in the milk slowly. If the milk iz added too rap- idly the mixture may curdle. Freeze in three parts of ice added to one part of salt. For the foregoing “The WATCHMAN" i: indebted to Good Housekeeping. Tried to ‘Slaughter His Brother. A story comes from Marshlands near Williamsport that a 6-year-old hoy of that place tried to imitate his father’s” method of slaughtering cattle and thereby nearly killed his 4-year-old brother. The boys’ father is a butcher and they had often watched him at his work. To- day, it is said, the elder boy put a rope around his younger brother’s neck and led him to the slaughter housé. Fastening the rope to a ring in the floor he picked up a piece of iron and dealt his brother a blow on the head. Then lowering the windlass ‘rope he tied the rope around his brother's feet and drew him up, as he had seen his father do with beef. Going to the house the boy asked his mother for a knife, saying that he had the cow Killed and was ready to skin -it. She ran to the barn to investigate and found her son hauging by the feet, apparently lifeless. It required several honrs’ work to resuscitate. iy] Hg ; Pearson is n Unitarian, Professor Charles W. Pearson, of the Northwestern university, has announced his intention of resigning from the faculty of the institution and withdrawing from the Methodist church. Asa parting shot to his orthodox critics, who have taken him to task for his recent utterances that miracles are mere tales and legends, he al- so denied the divinity of Christ, and pro- nounced himself to be more in accord with the doctrines of Unitarianism than of Methodism. Professor Pearson will be brought before the trustees of the North- western university for trial some time shortly, but the exact date of the trial has not been given out. “IT have decided to abandon the chair of English literature which I now occupy at Northwestern uni- versity,’’ said Professor Pearson, ‘‘and I will also quit the Methodist church. I love the Methodist church but my views upon the Bible are more in accord with those of the Unitarian church.” MILLIONS PUT T0 WORK.—The wonder- fal activity of the new century is shown by an enormous demaud for the world’s best workers—Dr. ing a New Life Pills. For Constipation, Sick Headache, Bilions- ness, or any trouble of Stomach, Liver or helping Jenny Lind to sing the National anthem. Kidneys they're unrivaled. Only 250. at Green's Pharmacy.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers