Bellefonte, Pa., Oct. 7, 1904.
ee
THF END OF THE FAIRY TALE.
She was entirely fashionable in every-
thing save ber motherhood, which still bore
faint traces of kinship with that of hu-
man mothers and the beasts of the field.
For instance, althongh she generally for-
got, she never regretted her only child’s
existence, and sometimes in rare lulls be-
tween her romps and frivolities she found
the child as amusing a pastime as ping-
pong on wet afternocns.
During that day on which the smart
American widow was to dine her and a
handful of congenials at the Savoy, en
route for the Empire,came a wire announc-
ing the illness of her hostess. Then the
big London house was moved ab its two
extremes, the kitchen depths sending up
their grumble that “she” was dining at
home after all, to the nursery heights;
with the result that the little Aurelia,
reckless with sudden hope, eluded her
nurse and the household, burried down-
stairs (right foot, right foot, right foos,
foremost all the way down, for the stairs
were steep and her legs bad only five years
to grow in), and entered the drawing-room
in ber nursery overalls. There, to the
childish eyes, the dearest and most beauti-
ful lady in the world was sitting in a low
chair near a tiny tea-table, and a long,
straight man, who bore his eye-glasses
bravely like a pain, was filling up his glass
from a svphon.
‘‘Mother,’’ said Aurelia,
they heard ber thumping heart, ‘‘you’re
not goin out after all, so please be with
me all this evening, and piease put me to
bed.” And baviog come thus far in her
unheard-of and desperate adventure, the
mite could not be swept away, except with
the given promise.
At hal-past six the Mother came down
stairs, and now, as will often happen, a
long neglect was followed by a sudden ac-
cess of care.
Are these the warmest night-socke the
poor child has?’ And are those pajamas
thoroughly aired?’ she inquired of the
nurse.
For answer, the woman swept the little
silken garments off the fender-rail and
gave them to her in contemptuous silence.
She had to the bess of her personal and class
ability mothered the little girl for three
years past. She bad nursed her through
croup and scarlet fever; she had made her
clothes, adding the little unnecessary em-
broideries and fine tuckings that seem no
less than love in the busy worker; she bad
as conscientiously frightened her with re-
ligion when naughty as she had dosed her
with physic when ill; and in her own esti-
mation there was very little anyone conld
teach her about children, not even doctors,
and least of all a lady who hardly ever saw
her child save in her prettiest clothes and
best behavior.
“Does she still have such cold little
feet?’ said the Mother, pulling off Aurelia’s
stockings.
“‘T have never known her to have cold
feet since J was here,’ replied the nurse.
“Well, she’s certainly in better condi-
tion than she was when last I gave her a
bath.”
The wvurse put np her eyebrows and
went on tidying the room; what else than
a bettering of condition was to be expected
of a child in her charge?
And how much bigger!’ said she lady,
still intent upon ingratiating herself with
this important person.
‘Yes, madam,” said the nuree, dryly,
knowing herself far too valuable for dis-
missal; ‘‘you see she’s had time to grow.’’
The Mother made no further overtures,
but devoted herself to the little girl, and
nurse, whose contempt was mingled with
jealousy, retired from the room with the
air of one who knows herself invaluable,
yet not valued, needed yet not desired, to
sit nursing ber feelings and darning little
socks in her fireless bed-room rather than
in the well-warmed linen-room next door.
Then began a great frolicking in the
bath, which continued till the room was
splashed from side to side.
“Oh, what will nursie say ?”’ laughed
the Mother.
“‘T don’t care,”’ sang out Aurelia, and
wet as she was she plumped herself down
on her mother’s lap and bugged her.
‘My gown !” cried the lady, but the
mischief was done and one might as well
enjoy the joke.
“I don’t care for anything to-nighs,’’
cried Aurelia. ‘‘Because I’m so dreffiy
bappy—Oh, Mother, can I sleep in your
bed to-night ?”’ /
This was a rare pleasure only granted to
the little girl on birthdays and other such
blue moons. And even pleasure is a poor
name for the feeling that filled Aurelia’s
heart when she entered the silken chamber
and lay in the wonderful bed where the
little golden angels (for that was how Au-
relia thought of the winged Loves) held up
the gauzy curtains, while all the lights of
the room seemed filtering through rose-
leaves. A poor name, too, for her feeling
when she woke in the night, and remem-
bering the company she was in, stretched
out a little hand to make sure; or for the
feeling which kept her (a fidgety, chatter-
ing creature from six a. m. onward as a
rule) lying quite still in the morning in
that rose-and-fairy-land—as still as ever
she rat in church and much, much happier,
until such time as Nurse came and fetshed
her away from her sleeping mother’s side.
And so, ‘‘Let me sleep in your bed to-
night,’’ said little Aurelia, coaxing all she
knew.
‘*Well, just this one time you shall,”
said the Mother, intent on fulfilling her
duties to the uttermost since she was in the
mood and they so pleasant. Aurelia
whooped and danced about with almost as
great a din as when she succeeded in dis-
lodging the Boers (Ada, the sewing-maid)
from tneir fortified Kopje (the nursery
side-board); and then quite out of breath
tumbled into her mother’s lap again.
The child’s joy was so flattering and so
wondering if
refreshing thas the Mother found herself | 1
wondering why women were not better
mothers than they were. This sort of
thing was really great fun, and unlike
most fun there wasn’t any harm in it. She
felt quite grateful to Mrs. Van Troden for
going down with the influenza.
‘‘And what’s more,”’ she went on with
further quickening of innocent desires and
good resolutions, ‘‘what is more—bust come
button up your dressing gown and let’s
draw close to the fire!—what’s more yon
shall sleep there to-morrow night as well.
“Oh!” sighed Aurelia, and leaned against
her mother. She could not thous or jump
for joy any more; her bappy heart was like
an over-laden honey-bee.
‘And besides that, I’ve a wonderful
plan in my head,” continued her mother.
The child sat up. ‘‘A plan for a lovely
treat; indeed, I think I've got plans for a
hauodred treats,” she said, lavishly, smil-
ing and looking deep into Aurelia’s round
eyes; it was worth being lavish to arouse
such shining love and worship as she saw
there, and it is only fair to add that as her
promises slipped out she believed in them
as faithfully as the child. ‘‘What would
you say if some day when the spring comes
you and I, just you and I together, run
right out together in the country on the
motor-car? and go into the woods and see
primroses grow? When I was a little girl
like you, my home was set among woods,
Aury. And we’d just be gipsies together,
you and I, and take our food with us, and
sit on the ground and pick flowers and go
home quite late in the evening. Shall we,
dear?”
“Let's! Let's! O Let’s”’ cried Aurelia,
emphasizing with hugs. ‘‘And then?
Then there’s the summer; what shall we
do when that comes? And then there’s the
autumn, and then there’s next winter. Why
we shall have time for heaps and heaps of
treats, sha’nt we?’’
“Bus if I sry to tell you all the treats I
have in mind,”’ said the Mother, ‘‘we shall
never ges to bed!”
We shall never get to bed?”’ exclaimed
the child. “Will you come tco then when
I go? or will yon come quite soon after?
Do! do! then we can go to sleep together.
I have never done this in all my life, in—
all—my—life! O do!”
The Mother had not intended this, but
filled with an unwonted sense of well-be-
ing in this kingdom of love and innocency
into which she bad strayed, she willingly
yielded yes further to the will of its queen.
“Yon funny little soul,’”’ she said. °‘It
isn’t eight o’clock! Still, as you're so keen
abons it 111 come to bed ever so early--I
won’t even go down to dinner,’’ she .add-
ed, every moment driven to further ex-
travagances by the long arrears of mother-
ing in her heart. ‘I'll get Pickney to
bring me a cup of soup up here and then
come to bed.”’
“Really and truly? Promise? O yom
dearest!”” A vigorous hug followed.
“I hope vou always say your prayers,
Aurelia,”’ the Mother said, gravely,smooth-
ing her hair.
“Yes, I do; I say them just after my
night-socks, so that’s now,’’ said the child.
Straightway she knelt down, asking God
to bless her mother and her daddy in South
Africa and bring him home safe, and to
bless nursie and to make herself a good
girl, Amen; and then standing up and put-
ting her hands behind her she carefully re-
peated a hymn all about lambs aad’ little
children and Jesus Christ, which somehow
brought the tears to her mother’s eyes.
‘Little Aurelia,’’ she said, drawing her
cheek against her own, ‘‘why don’t youn
sometimes say, ‘God make daddy and
Tote good’ as well‘make me a good girl,’
eh ?
‘‘Becanse you’re grown up!’ was the
prompt reply; nothing more, because it
was such a well-known fact that it was
only children who were naughty.
Aurelia’s cup of joy was not yet jull, for
a fairy tale was promised, to be told before
the nursery fire while the fire in the rosy
room was burning up. It was long since
the Mother had told a fairy tale, longer
still since she had read one. In her desire
to pay a long-owed debt of ‘good influ
ence,”’ she wove a very threadbare story
round about a whole bundle of obvious and
naked morals.
Aurelia listened greedily and loved it all,
although therein were allegorized many of
ber pitifal little sins and weaknesses. The
dramatis persone were a Princess, a Bad
Fairy and a Good Fairy. As she Bad Fairy
arrived in time for the christening and the
good one did not, the poor child was
morally handicapped through early cbild-
hood, and the description of her unregener-
ate condition was full of home-thrusts and
unmistakable meanings ; but with the
‘gradual mastery of the Good Fairy, the
Princess became a person of immaculate
{smorals and behavior who never came down-
stairs without politely asking permission,
and certainly never in a dirty frock, never
was selfish, asking her mother to play with
her when she was busy or had a headache;
pever was cheeky to her nurse; would have
died rather than slap a sewing-maid ; never
left her porridge, nor refused tc eat crusts.
‘But I do finish up my porridge now,
and I don’t leave my crusts, ’’said the child
in disappointed astonishment. ‘‘Don’$
you ‘member how I tried and tried, and
then I didn’t leave it any more, and so
then you gave me Doll Dinah? Don’t you
'member?’’ (It had been such an epoch in
the little life.)
‘Now how naughty of me to forges,”
said her mother. ‘‘Of course you did.”
For a moment, the thought of preaching to
this generous, loving and interesting oreat-
ure became an absurdity and indecency.
Bat, ‘Go on, please,’’ coaxed Aurelia, and
so the story went forward, relating how
happy the Princes’s mother became in see-
ing her little girl so good, until the listen-
er again interrupted with—
“I will try to be like the Princess. I
will try to give my strawberries and oream
to poor beggar children. I will try and not
be selfish any more—and even if I have the
loveliest doll in the world—like Doll
Dinah even,’’ she said, shutting her eyes
sight and nodding her head in great jerks
to emphasize her determination, *‘I will
try to give it to somebody else if you like.
I helieve I’m not going to do anything
naughty or unkind any more all my life
for ever and ever, and be juss like you,
Mother dear!”’ She opened her eyes and
drew breath. ‘Well, and what did the
Bad Fairy be able to do?’’ she went on, “I
don’t think the bad fairy could do much,
because the Good Fairy was so awfully
strong, wasn’t she, don’t you believe?”’
“Well, I'm just coming to that,’’ said
the Mother. ‘‘The Bad Fairy—"’
Someone knocked at the door and a maid
entered.
‘‘Major Morrison is here,’ she said.
‘‘Major Morrieon?’’ repeated the Mother,
with a sense of shock and disappoint-
ment. .
Aurelia’s hold became a clutch. “You
won’s go, will you?’’ she said a little stern-
ly. “You promised me.”
“My dear Heart. I didn’t know when
I promised that—"’
The child flashed around on the maid
with blazing cheeks. ‘‘Please tell Major
Morrison to go away,’’ she said, imperious-
y. v
“Hash, Aurelia, how dreadfully you
speak! I don’t want to leave yom, but I
mustn’t be rude or unkind just for your
pleasure’s sake, must I?’ .
‘Why must you see him?’ the child
pleaded tremulouely. ‘‘Why must you?
Why?”
The superior maid waited in chill and
immovable silence.
“I’ll come,”’ said the Mother, flushing a
little, and looking at her above the child’s
head. The superior maid turned to go.
“‘Stop,”’ said Aurelia, with heaving
chest; ‘just ask Major Morrison to wait
¢ill we’ve finished the fairy tale. And
then after thas,’’ she continued, imploring-
ly, ‘how soon will you come up-stairs to
go to sleep with me?’
‘The maid closed the door.
‘‘Now, my sweethears,’’ said the Moth-
er, ‘I want you to be the most sensible
little princess in the world. I can’t finish
the story now, and I can’t come up as early
It wae a poor bit of ars, but
as I had hoped to do—but very soon after
you are asleep, I—"’
Aurelia jumped off ber lap. ‘‘That man
is a big, cruel beast. and I bate him, I hate
him, I hate him!’ she cried, stamping her
foo. ‘I hate anyone who takes you away
from me.”’ Then she burst into passionate
sobbing.
Perhaps her criticism was juster than
she knew. Certainly, it was unwelcome
to her mother’s ears.
‘‘Hush, bush, Aury! If you loved me
you would try to love my friends.”
She took her on her lap again and sooth-
ed her into some sort of resignation; then
she suddenly laid her head on the little
shoulder.
‘‘You make me very unbappy, Aury,”’
she said, and it was perfectly true, but this | gg
was not hy reason of Aurelia’s short-com-
ings. Why bad this visit happened this
peaceful evening? It filled her with a
sense of unseemly intrusion; it jarred and
put her out of tune with itself and herself,
and her new-found peace as well. And
yes, a very little later, after promising to
come back and show herself before going
down to the drawing-room, she left her
child and went away to dress.
Something had certainly gone wrong with
the world to-night. Aurelia was conscious
of having misbehaved herself just when she
meant to be, and thought herself as good
as any princess! She sat alone by the nur-
gery fire, wondering ruefully and holding
on to the one fragment left of her wrecked
but glorious evening; her mother would
come and show herself when dressed, and
Aurelia loved to see how white she looked
against the soft, black, misty stuff, with
bright things glittering like frost in her
dark hair. But apparently the Mother for-
got all abous it, and went down-stairs
withant coming near the nursery; and ab
pine o'clock, nurse found the forsaken
child still waiting.
“So that's the way she does it, does
she?! sniffed the woman. But she wrap-
ped her charge up warmly and carried ber
tenderly enough over to the far-off-rose
colored chamber. >
“Do yon mean my mother?’ said Aare-
lia, with the threatening of tears. ‘‘Please
don’t say ‘she’; it’s rude.”
There was a soft rustling outside the
doar, and then Aurelia’s mother came in,
very pale, brilliant-eyed, and still wearing
the dress which she bad worn in the nurs-
ery. Aurelia stared, and then, ‘‘Mother!
Mother!’ she cried, quite suddenly wide
awake, suddenly comforted, suddenly over-
joyed; and she jumped up and down until
the glass and silver knick-knacks jingled.
“That will do, Nurse,”’ said the lady,
speaking a little breathlessly as though she
bad sped up the stairs. Pasting the cling-
ing child’s head, she waited for the aston-
ished woman’s departure, which was so de-
liberate as curiosity could make it. When
the door at last closed upon her unwilling
ig the mother lifted the child into her
ap.
Yi was so dreadfully afraid you'd be
asleep, Aury,’’ she said, as if this bad been
a matter of lifeand death. ‘‘I want you,
I want you, I want yon!’ Hugged to ber
bosom as she was, the child could feel her
mother’s heart beating. In the midst of
her blessedness, she felt shy and awed.
She snbmitted to the embrace without re-
turning it, only looking up out of the
depths of blissful, wondering eyes.
‘And you can really stay with me?’’ she
asked very gravely. ‘‘Has the visitor
gone?’?
“Oh, yes,’ answered the Mother, and
she bent her head to untie the ribbon of
her little one’s bedroom slipper. Then
followed a silence as the lady folded baok
the silken cover of the bed and make all
ready—a silence of reverie on the one hand
and ignorant, wondering sympathy on the
Sebel It began to weigh upon the little
ears. oy
‘Well, Mother darling?’’ she ventured
at last, with tentative tone and smile, “‘I
s'pose—well, I s’pose you don’t feel in-
olined to tickle me or anything like that,
do you?” !
The quaint overture surprised the lady
out of her reverie and made her smile,
“T think I feel inclined to do anything
you ask of me,’’ she said, lifting her little
girl unto the bed.
Aurelia was immediately at ease with
her mother again. Hurrah!” she cried,
bouncing up and down on the bed. ‘‘Hur-
rah! Hurrab! Hurrah! D’you really mean
it, Dearest?’” She put her head on one
gide and wheeled. ‘‘I 8’pose you couldn’s
let me have Bluebell to sleep with as well
as you? I don’t s’pose you could do that,
could you, now?’
‘‘Bluebell, my night-toy,’’ as she de-
scribed the huge toy rabbit with shoe-but-
ton eyes which had lain in her arms so
many nights that all'his perturbances were
worn bald and shiny, had always been for-
bidden her mother’s chamber and, as Aure-
lia firmly believed, bad taken the sight to
heart. Now for the first time he was to
have an invitation.
‘‘Hurrah! you exquisite Mother!’’ cried
Aurelia, bouncing harder than ever. ‘‘And
will youn go on telling me the story, too,
and will you go to bed, now when I do,
and anything else I like? Now, whatever
else do I like, I worder?’’ she added anx-
iously.
‘“‘Well’”’ said her mother, beginning to
undo Aurelia’s dressing-gown, ‘il we were
in the middle of a story we had better fin-
ish it I shink. I’m very stupid to-night—
what was it all about, and where did we
ges to in it?" ; :
“Don’t you ’member?’’ said Aurelia, and
in ber eagerness she hardly knew that the
fluffy garment was taken off in the luxur-
ious bed. ‘‘It was about the Good Fairy
who helped the Princess to be good and the
bad one who made her , and you
didn’t know which was going to win.
Don’t you member? Which did -win, I
wonder.
“Yes, I remember now,’ the Mother
said. She bent down and laid her head on
the pillow beside the child and looked and
looked into those clear eyes—then she
closed her own to hide her tears.
Hoel, which did win then?” asked the
child.
‘I think perbaps the Good Fairy—and
I’m quite certain the Good Fairy—won the
day,’’ answered the Mother.—By Maude:
Egerton King, in Everybody's Magazine.
World’s Fair Accommodations
The St. Louis Young Men's Christian
Association has organized a World’s Fair
Bureau, through which it is prepared to
furnish reliable accommodations at reason-
able rates in hotels, boarding houses, and
splendid private homes. This is really an
extension of the boarding house register,
which such Associations have always main-
tained for the benefit of strangers. The St.
Louis Association makes no charge to its
‘patrons, either directly or indirectly, for
the service, and the benefits of the Burean
are extended not ‘only to young men, but
to the public generally. Those interested
are invited to correspond ' with E. P.
Shepard, Secretary Y. M. C. A. World’s
Fair Bureau, Grand aod Franklin Aves.,
86. Louis.
State Board of Agriculture Meeting.
An important gathering that will be
held in Bellefonte and at State College
pext week. Oct, 11-15, is the meeting of
the State Board of Agriculture and Nor-
mal Farmer’s Institute. The following
lengthy and moss interesting program has
been ananged :
: Tuesday Forenoon, Oct. 11, 1904.
(Session in Court House, Belletonte.)
Call to order at 10:30.
1. Roll call of members.
2. Reading of minutes.
2. Appointment of committee on credentials.
4, Reception of Credentials of members-elect
and delegates.
5. Address: “Relation of State Board of Agri-
culture to the farmer and farmers’ organization.”
. Blyholder, Armstrong county.
Report of committee on credentials,
Unfinished business.
New business.
. Miscellaneous business,
10. Adjournment.
Tuespay, Ocr, 11, at 2:30 p. m.
Co. John A. Woodward, Howard. Pa., Chairman.
(Session in Court House, Bellefonte)
Address of Welcome, by Gen. Jas. A. Beaver,
Bellefonte.
Response, by Hon. A. L. Martin, director of
institutes.
2:30-3:30. Dr. Wm, Frear. “Soil Improvement.”
3:36-4:30. Prof. M. S. McDowell, ‘‘Commerciai
Fertilizers.”
4:30-5:00. Round table, Dr. Wm. Frear.
5.00-5:30. Round table, Prof. M. 8. McDowell.
Tuesday evening, Oct. 11, 1904.
S. F. Barber, Harrisburg, Pa., chairman.
(Session in Court House, Bellefonte)
Pras
Call to order at 7:30.
Music.
Mrs. Wells W, Cooke, ‘‘Domestic Science.”
Mrs. Mary A. Wallace, “The Country Home
and Its Sanitation.”
Dr. B. H. Warren, “Importance of Prompt En-
forcement of the Pure Food Laws.”
Musie.
Prof. John Hamilton, ‘Normal Schools of Agri-
_culture for Institute Workers
Wednesday Morning, Oct. 12, 1904
J. 8. Burns, Imperial, R. F. D. No. 1, Pa., Chair-
man.
(Session at The Penn’a State College.)
9:30. Music.
Address of Welcome, by Pres. Gee, W. Ather
ton, State College.
9:30-10:30. Section A. Dr. H. P. Armsby, “Ani
mal Nutrition.”
section B. Prof. Wm. A. Buckhout, “Prin-
ciples of Plant Feeding.”
0:30-11-30. Section A. Prof. Geo. C. Watson,
“Principles of Animal Breeding.”
Section B. Prof. Geo. C. Butz, “Fruit Culture ;
Large Fruits.
Round Tables.
11:30-12:00. Section A. Prof. H. P, Armsby. Sec-
tion B. Prof. Wm A. Buckhout.
12:00-12.30. Section A. Prof.Geo. C. Watson. Sec-
tion B, Prof. Geo. C. Butz. .
afternoon, Oct. 12
Wednesday on, OtanZ
Howard G. McGowan, Geiger’s Mills,
man
(Session at State College)
2:30-5:25. Section A. Dr. I. A. Thayer, “Feeds
and Fertility,”
Section B. ’ Prof. Geo. C. Butz, “Fruit Culture;
Small Fruits.” :
3:30-4:25, Section A. Mr. L. W. Lighty, “The
Farmer’s Cow; Her Care.”
Section B. Dr. J. H. Funk,
Fruit Trees’
Round Tables!
4:30-5:30 Section A! Dr! I! A! Thayer and Mr!
L. W. Lighty
4:30-5:30 Section B! Prof: Geo. C. Butz and
Dr. J! H, Funk.
“The Pruning of
Wednesday Evening, Oct. 12.
W. H. H. Riddle, Butler, Pa., Chairman.
(Session at Bellefonte)
7:30. Music. Duet, Mrs. H. A. Surface and
J. P. Pillsbury, ; 3
Prof, W. G. Johnson, editor of American Agri-
culturist, “The Art of Instruction as a Science.”
Music.
Mr. T. D. Harman, editor of the National Stock-
man and Farmer, “The Influence of a Local Insti-
tute Worker.”
Thursday Morning, Oct. 13.
8. X. McClellan, Knox, Pa., Chairman.
(Session at State College)
9:30 10:30 Section A. Rev: J. D. Detrich, “The
Dairy Cow” (illustrated by sketches.
Section B Prof. R. L: Watts, **
dening.”
10:30-11:30. Section A, Mr. T. I. Mairs, “The
Care of Milk and Butter.”
Section B. Prof. H. A. Surface, “Insect Pre-
ventives."”
Round Tables.
11:30-12:35 Section A. Rev. J. D. Detrich and
Mr. T: I Mairs.
Section B. Prof. R. L. Watts and Prof. H. A
Surface. .
arket Gar-
Thursday Afternoon, Oct. 13.
Cedar Springs, Pa., Chairman,
Session at State College)
2:30 Music—Mrs. H. A. Surface,
2:30-3:30 General Session, Dr. Leonard Pear-
son, “Breeding in Relation to Disease.”
3:30-4:30 Section A. Prof Wells W. Cooke, “The
Beets of Feeds on the Quality and Quantity of
Section B. Mr. Alva Agee, “Potato Culture.”
Round Tables.
4:30-5:00 Section A. Prof. Wells W. Cooke.
Section B. Mr. Alva Agee.
5:00-5:30 General session. Dr. Leonard Pear-
son.
Joel A. i
: Thursday Evening, Oct. 13.
Hon. Wm. H. Brosius, Dromore, Pa., Chairman.
(Session at Bellefonte)
7:30—Music, Mrs. H. A. Surface.
Dr. D. J. Crosby, of the U. 8. Department of
Agriculture, “Nature Study and Agriculture in
the Public Schools,” {iliustiated.)
Prof. H. A. Surface, Penn’a State, Zoologist,
“Qur Insect Friends,’ (illustrated.)
Friday Morning, Oct. 14,
Dr. M. E. Conard, Westgrove, Pa., Chairman.
(Session at State College)
Call to order at 9:30. Music.
9:30-10:30 General session. Prof. Franklin
Menges, ‘Methods of Cultivating Hay and Leg-
uminous Crops.”
10:30-11:30 Section A. Mr. J. T. Campbell,
“Egg Production.”
Section B. Mr. R. D. Barclay,
Special Round Tables.
11:30-12:00 Section A. Mr. J. T. Campbell.
Section B. Mr. R. D. Barclay.
General Round Table.
12:00-12:30—Prof. Franklin Menges.
Friday Afternoon, Oct. 14
M. N. Clark, Claridge, Pa., Chairman.
(Session at State College, unless otherwise an-
nounced)
2:30 General session, on “The County and
Local Management of Farmers’ Institutes.”
Hon, Jason Sexton, “The County Chairman.”
H. W. Northup, “Institute Committees.”
Geo. A. Woodside, “Advertisement of Insti-
”
( Five minute discussions, open to all.)
Nore.—A competent person will be in charge of
the Question Box toc whom all written questions
ill ve referred and answers given at round table
v. is expected to be present
I ie a of the Sotto
Arrangements have heen made with the
leading railroads of the State for the sale
of tickets at excursion rates. Such tickete
can be obtained from the local ticket agents
by the presentation of orders that can be
seoured by application to either of the un-
dersigned.
Traveling and hotel expenses of county
chairman of institutes and institute lectur-
ers engaged for the coming season, wiil be
borne by the department. :
All farmers’ organizations within the
State, including agriculture and horticul-
tural societies, nurserymen’s association,
bee-keeper’s association, dairymen’s Union,
farmers’ clubs, granges, farmers’ alliances,
eto., are requested to send properly anthor-
ized representatives or delegates to the
meeting, who will be accorded the privi-
lege of participation in all the discuesions.
N. B. CRITCHFIELD, Sec’y.
‘“Bee-keeping.”’
——F. Potts Green says: I am very
much gratified with the results Vin-te-na
is bringing about. = Every day some one
comes in and speaks a kindly word for the | [¥
great tonic. Bankers, lawyers, ministers
and others, whose work is constant-
ly draining their nerve supply, tell
me thas Vin-te-na is the one remedy which
brings sound and refreshing sleep and
makes them feel that life’s worth living.
Come in and talk with me about is.
Cats and Dogs.
The Enmity that Exists Between Them and the
Reason of It.
Why does the dog hate the cat? Sci-
entists have been investigating the en-
mity between these animals, and they
believe that the instinctive Imtred
which certain beasts feel for each other
is “due to inheritance from ancient
times when the animals met in a wild
state and preyed on each other.
The enmity between cats and dogs
seems to be due more to hatred on the
part of the dog than of the cat. The
latter animal apparently hates dogs
because dogs chase her, while the dog
hates the cat because she is a cat.
A cat will feed at a place where a
dog has been without betraying any
signs of anger, but a dog generally be-
comes excited and wild if he scents
the trail of a cat anywhere near his
food or sleeping place.
Now this enmity js not to be ex-
plained by anything that happens be-
tween dogs and cats in domesticity or
anything that ever happened between
them as long ago as human history
goes. In all these thousands of years
dogs and cats have been kept as pets,
and of all animals they are the two
which should be the most friendly.
But th& reverse is the case. One nat-
uralist, Dr. Zell, seeks it in the fact
that the common cat net only looks
like, but smells like, the great cats of
prey. And of those cats of prey there
is one, much like a domestic cat in
many ways, which hunts dogs by pref-
erence. This big cat is the leopard.
The domestic cat and her larger rela-
tive, the wildcat, have never harmed
the race of dogs, but their great spec-
kled cousin is and always has been the
most ferocious of dog murderers, and
the cat must pay for it.
Authorities agree that there is no
animal that the leopard would rather
eat than the dog. As a result there are
many villages in the districts in which
leopards are plentiful where nobody
can keep a dog. The great cats will
not hesitate to break into the houses
to seize their favorite dish.
But, says the doubter, the modern
dog certainly could not have known
leopards in many thousands of years.
He has been a domestic pet in regions
where there have been no leopards
since man first appeared.
That is true, says Dr. Zell. But be
points to the fact that dogs have a
habit of turning around several times
before they lie down. This, he says, is
due to the fact that when they were
in a wild state they had to do this to
press down leaves and twigs in order
to prepare a bed for themselves, and as
they have not overcome this habit in all
their years of domesticity it is quite
natural that they should still inHberit
fierce hatred of any creature that
smells like a leopard.
Dogs and cats are not the only ani-
mals that still show inherited fear or
hatred of other beasts which theyshave
never seen themselves. Thus the rhi-
noceros is frantically in fear of any-
thing white, and naturalists say that
this is because once upon a time some
big white animal hunted him. But that
must have been long ago, for there are
no big white animals now where ithe
rhinoceros dwells.
Chickens that have never seen a fox
will cackle and run in fear if they
come across the place where the ani-
mal has passed or where his carcass
has been dragged. If a fox has been
anywhere near a cat's drinking dish
the cat will not approach it.—New York
Press. :
A Spoiled Dinner.
Mme. de Mazarin certainly was ec-
centric and unfortunate, according to
the memoirs of Marquise de Crequy.
She never gave a reception without
some accident happening. When she
had a supper party the kitchen was
certain to catch on fire. She gave a
grand fete champeter and in order to
make it more realistic sent for a flock
of real sheep, a heifer and a shepherd’s
dog. The flock was to pass behind a
glass screen. An unruly buck smashed
the glass, and the entire flock, with the
heifer and dog, rushed in upon the au-
dience and scattered it. Some of the
sheep got access to the supper table,
and so there were no refreshments to
speak of.
The Prince of Waterloo.
After the battle of Waterloo the
Duke of Wellington was created Prince
of Waterloo, and four pensions were
conferred on him and his descendants.
A Belgian paper states ‘thet in the
great book of the Belgiam publie debt
‘there are féur entmes every year of
payments to the Prince of Waterloo.
They are 80,106 francs 14 centimes, 492
francs, 85 francs 80 gentimes and 3
francs 47 centimes, or a total of more
than £3;060.
He Does Go Round Buttin’.
At a dinner recently given in Lon-
don an American actor proposed the
conundrum, “What. goes round a but-
ton?’ After the problem had been giv-
en up by the party he gave the an-
swer, “A goat.” There was a mo-
ment's silince.
Einally one of the women spoke up.
“Why,” she said in a p@zzled tone,
“I didn’t know they ate buttons.”’—
Harper's Weekly.
¢ His Point of View.
“Do you think the world is growing
better?”
“No, confound it! I dropped the nick-
el the conductor gave me in change this
morning, and it rolled off the car.”—
Chicago Record-Herald.
Changed It.
The Lady—That isn’t the same story
ou told me before. The Beggar—No,
lady; you didn’t believe the other one.
—Philadelphia Telegraph. E
The greedy eye always misses more
jthan ‘a generous one.—Chicago Trib-
une.
Venetian Glass,
Marco Polo Gave the First Great Impetus to Its
Manufacture.
it was Marco Polo who gave the first
great impetus to the glags industry at
Venice. The great traveler encourhged
his countrymen to manufacture and to
export large quantities of glass to the
orient to satisfy the growing demand
there. It is difficult to determine when
the first glass factories were establish-
ed in Venice, says the Chicago News.
Some historians have attempted to
prove that it was as early as the fifth
century. The most ancient existing
document relating to #his industry is
an article in a treaty concluded in 1287
between Bohemond, prince of Antioch,
and Jacobo Contarini, doge of Venice.
This time stained parchment refers to
the purchase of broken glass—a most
necessary ingredient for the production
of good glass—by the Venetian mer-
chants in Syria. In 1289 the great
council of the republic prohibited the
establishment of glass furnaces in the
city proper, as they were frequent
causes of serious fires, and finally rele-
gated the glassblowers to the island of
Murano (1292), where the industry has
flourished down to the present day.
Murano’s glass manufacturers pos-
sessed many political and other privi-
leges. Their daughters could even mar-
ry into the families of the proud Vene-
tian patricians. In the seventeenth cen-
tury the glassblowers of Venice were
recognized as the best in Europe. This
fact caused the Duke of Buckingham
to employ Venetian workmen in the
glass manufactory which he opened in
1670 for the purpose of making imita-
tions of the fine Venetian drinking
glasses.
Evelyn, the diarist, writing in 1641,
says: “I passed over to Murano, fa-
mous for the best glasses of the world,
where, having viewed their furnaces, I
made a collection of divers curiosities.
’Tis the white flints which they have
from Pavia, which they pound and sift
exceedingly small and mix with ashes
made of a seaweed brought out of Syr-
fa, and a white sand that cause the
manufacture to excel.”
Pointed Paragraphs,
It is not much trouble for the wolves
to find fault with the sheep.
Always remember that a good deal
may be said on the other side.
‘When a husband is mean io his wife
he almost always outlives her.
Patience is one of those things of
which we don’t get enough and every
one else gets too much.
Some people say that the cemetery
widowers take notice a good deal
quicker than the courthouse widowers.
‘When a girl is as cross as two sticks
‘at home and smiling and pleasant
downtown old fashioned women call
her a “street angel.”
One of the marvels of the age is the
little indignation a girl will show at
her father’s great wrongs and the
great indignation she will show at her
lover's little ones.—Atchison Globe.
Invention of the Steam Engine.
The Marquis of Worcester, while im-
prisoned in the Tower of London in
1656, invented and constructed the first
steam engine of which we have any
authentic record and had it publicly
exhibited the same year in Vauxhall in
successful operation. In 1690 Dr.
Papin invented and made a piston, and
in 1698 Captain Savary devised and
built a steam engine on a slightly mod-
ified plan, while in 1706 Newcomb,
Cawley and Savary constructed their
atmospheric engine complete in every
detail. James Watt, who today en-
joys the distinction of being the verita-
ble author of this most useful contriv-
ance, did not appear upon the scene
until 1765, just sixty years later.—
Pearson’s Weekly.
Natural Cure For Rheumatism.
There is a wonderful grotto at Mon-
summano, Italy, called the Grotto Gi-
usti, where the natural vapor is stated
to be an infallible cure for rheuma-
tism. Fifty years ago some workmen
were quarrying for lime when they dis-
covered the grotto, and its healing pow-
ers were first made known some little
time later. In the lowest portion, ap-
propriately named the Inferno, the tem-
perature is about 95 degrees F., and
here the victims from rheumatism sit
and perspire for an hour at a time.
Such a vapor bath is said to be of much
‘greater service than a Turkish bath.
No Premeditation.
Justice of Peace—-What do mean by
saying it was not premeditated, Ras-
tus? You acknowledge that you broke
into the plaintiff’s hardware store and
stole a bunch of keys. Rastus—Yas-
sub, yassuh. But dat wuzn't mah fault,
jedge. Mistah Smiff done put locks on
his chicken coop dat mone ob mah keys
‘would fit, an’ dere wuzn't no udder
way ter git in widout his heahin’ me
*ceptin’ by borrerin’ dem keys. Yas-
suh; dat’s de truf.—Judge.
His Voice.
“What would you do if you had a
voice like mine?”
“Have it operated on.”
“Have it operated on? Why, I'll
have you to understand that I made
my fortune through my voice.”
“Yes. I heard you proposed to your
wife with it.”
Wages, Forsooth!
Mrs. Annex—TI'll tell you what I'll
do, Bridget. If you'll consent to stay
I'll raise your wages. Bridget—Listen
to her, wud ye? Raise me wages, in-
dade! Ye’'ll increase me salary, that’s
phwat ye’ll do.—Brooklyn Life,
hs The Modern Way.
He—And so they got married? She—
Yes, they got married, were separated
again in a week’s time and have lived
happily ever since.—Philadelphia Bul-
letin. :