Bellefonte, P2., Feb. 2, 1906. WEDDING SUPERSTITIONS. Married in January's hoar and rime, Widowed you'll be before your prime, Married in February's sleety weather, Life you'll tread in tune together. Married when March winds shrill and roar, Your home will lie on a foreign shore, Married ‘neath April's changeful skies, A checkered path before you lies. Married when bees o'er May blossoms flit, Strangers around your board will sit. Married in month of roses—June— Life will be one long honeymoon. Married in July, with flowers ablaze, Bitter-sweet mem’ries in after days. Married in August's heat and drowse, Lover and friend your chosen spouse, Married in golden September's glow Smooth and serene your life will go. Married when leaves in October thin, Toil and hardship for you begin. Married in veils of November mist, Fortune your wedding ring has kissed, Married in days of December cheer, Love's star shines brighter from year to year. From Old Rhyme, Unfortanates. A clock ean run, but cannot walk ; My shoe has a tongue, but cannot talk ; A comb has teeth, but has no mouth ; A north wind blows thesmoke straight south. Bottles have necks, bu have no heads ; And pins have heads, but have no necks ; And needles have to hold their threads Right in their eyes—how it must vex. If I were a needle, comb or shoe, 1 never should know what todo; My head is really ina whirl I'm glad I am a little girl. ~— Boston Herald, THE SOLVENT, They ate their dinner almost in silence that night. ‘‘Let’s come out into the park for a while,”” Ocrlway suggested, excited- ly, as they left the dining foom. ‘‘We skan’t have to start before nine.” The seat overlookivg the river where, in the summer season, they had always pre- ferred to exchange their daily confidences, was empty. Dwight Ordway threw him- sell into is with a sigh of relief, taking his hat off in welcome to the slight breeze that floated languidly over the water. His thin dark face was white with the fatigue of a long hot day, but a definite glow of hap ie ness brightened his eyes and drew his lips into a constant succession of smiles. ‘Oh, have the flowers come ?’’ he asked. “Yes, this'alternoon.”’ “Were they all righs ?”’ “Just what I wanted.’’ He laoghed a little. “‘I do want every- thing to be all right to-night. I know you're bound to make a sensation. If they only see you once at your best, I know they’ll never forges it. Cecilia, I can’s tell ou how happy I am that the deadlock is ken. Aunt Anne's dictum, you know, is final.” : Cecilia's brow contracted painfully as she looked into the glow of the sunset. *‘If you only knew how frightened I am,” she breathed. ‘“That’'s nonsense,’’ her husband insist. ed, briekly. ‘‘All you need is a chance to let them know you. It's lucky Aunt An- pa invited us this year. [ should never have given them another chance. I'd have taken you abroad. Cecilia shook her head. *‘I shouldn’s have gone,’’ she asserted, tremulously. *‘I never shonld have heen bappy anywhere until von had made np with yoor people. Never ! Never!" Ordway’s eyes grew tender as he looked at her. Then the langh twinkled in them again. “I went into the store to see the girls to-day.’ she said. : “Yes.” Her husband’s tone was ab- sent. : *“They’d heard —I don’t know how—all abouts the invitation.” ‘“There was something in the papers the other night,’’ Ord way said, frowning. Cecilia sighed. “Ob, I wish the papers would leave me alone. Sometimes I think they will never get through with me. Oth- er millionaires have married workiog-girls and been disinherited and after a while it's been forgotten. But they never forget me.’! ‘‘It's because you are different.’ “If hating it makes me different, I am different.”” Her knitted brows smoothed themselves out. ‘The girls were all so glad for me, fent every message they could think of to yon, They asked me about a thousand questions. They made me promise that I'd come in and tell them all abous is.2. «v0 ‘You must be sure-to doit.” “I shan’t forget. Oh—and;, Dwight, I asked Delia Kelly to take up French with me vext winter. She's crazy to learn. She thinks she could work into a buyer's position if she only knew French, and I guess she could. There's going to be a va- cancy soover or later, and if she’s only read aa—T7 by don’t yon form a class and in- vite the whole five to join ?”’ Ordway sug- . “I'll pay the bills.” Cecilia's eyee sparkled. “Ob Dwight, would you? 1 never thought of anything like that. Bat I'd simply love to. I want #0 much to share! I've bad so much—I don’t deserve itall. I don’t know wheth- er they'd all care. But some of them will. I'll go in to-morrow and tell them all about it. You dear, to think of sucha sweet thing I" Impulsively she bent over and kissed him. ‘“They’re a bright ses,” Ordway said. *‘They deserve a chance to——Bat I'm not thinking so much of that as that they in- troduced me to yon. I'G send them all through college to pay back that score. Webs I suppose we ought to be getting ready. The happy lovk faded ous of Cecilia's aya “Yes, I suppose so.’ She arose slowly. By the time they had reentered their lit- tle apartment, her face was white avd she waa trembling in every limb. An hoar later the tremble had all gone, and a gliating glow, that transformed it, was ing over her face. She stood with her before her mirrorand as frank- 1y as he surveyed the reflection in it. Beoause her figare was a natural one, it seemed a little Inrge, hut it was both vig- orous and womanly. The gold of her bair and the blue of her eyes were, at fire, a little startling, but the sweetness of her expression, the tenderness of ber sudden bro oy made the difference between a hand- some face and a beautiful one. Her gown was of a silk so thin and soft that it could be pulled through a ring—a lustzous, float- ing white. Her arms and neck were bare. Her only jewels were the pearls of a quaint necklace that fell away from ber milky throat in a multitude of pendant strands. She held a huge bunch of sweet peas. “Oh, I am like them, I am like them !" she exclaimed, happily. “I'm not a bis afraid now, not a single bit." “I'm proud of you,” ber husband said, briefly. “Oh,” she said “later, in the carriage, ‘‘yon don’t know how I've tried these three years, Dwight !"’ Her voice vibrat- ed with feeling. “I’ve never walked on the street once without studying the wo- men—your kind, I mean—to see what was the difference. Whenever I’ve bought anything, I've made myself choose the | P simplest. And I’ve kept such a watch on myself; I've been so careful about bad grammar and slang, my voice and even my laugh. I havea little book at home, and I put down everything I learn in it. And I’ve listened so hard toall the things you've told me. OI course, the studying you've made me do was a great help, but my little book was a greater one. It’s full now. Ob, it’s so childish; I was ashamed of it at first. I was #0 afraid that you might bappen to find it. But now I loves.” Ordway had taken her hand. He wateh- ed her kindled face emerge from the dark- ness and then sink into gloom again as the carriage plunged through the silvery shafts of light flung, in parallel rows, from the street-lamps. Cecilia wae silent after the sudden pour of her long monologue, She held her hus- band’s band the rest of the way, even after they had left the carriase and were walk- idg down the long piazza of the huge old ouse. “‘Let's not go in yes,” she ed, as they neared the flare of brilliant light and moving figures that indicated the doorway. “I want to look in one of the windows first. I want you to poiut out some of the people tome. I'll be sure then to make no mistakes with she people who would mind—and there are so many of them. See —here’s a nice place.” Her voice had sunk to a whisper. Ordway silently slip- ped beside her into the nook formed by I a dozen tubs of small plants. The big room was asway in the vibra. tions that the dancers’ feet had unloosed. Of these there were almost too many. Their beautiful gowns formed a maelstrom of color that the swift movement blended, then blurred. It concealed for intervals the row of stately chaperons watchfally en- circling the dance. Through the closed window the strains of an inspiring $wo- step came dwindled and delicate. Sudden- ly these stopped, and the dance-ball, like & spent kaleidoscope, shook its scintillat- ing units tc rest against the confining walls. “Oh, there's your aant!” Cecilia ex- claimed. ‘‘Isn’t she stunning in that li- lac? [I've sold her gloves so many times. I wonder if she’ll remember me. They say ber memory is wonderful.” ‘If she’s seen you twice, she'll remem. ber you, you may be sure.” *‘And there are your mother and sisters,’’ Cecilin went on. ‘‘How sweet they look ! Oh, who is that pretty girl talking with them ?"’ *“The girl in blue? Ob, that's Natalie Oshorne. She's engaged to that old duoffer —ithe one that's just stopped dancing near her. It's an awfal shame that they let her do it. Bat ue hag twghe mat 2 penny, poor thing. e's always dead in love with Sears Winthrop, too, but he can’s afford to marry anybody.’ “Do you mean to say she’s going to mar- 1y an old man because the one she really loves hasn't money enough ?'’ ‘““There’s nothing else for her to do. Sears hasn't a sign of a prospect. Do yon see that tall girl in green? She'll be her stepdanghter. She's five years older than Natalie.” “Oh, go to her.'' Ceo-'iv said, breath- lessly, “‘and tell her, Dwight, shat you don’t need money 10 mary. Tell her how little we've lived on and how bappy we've been.’ Ordway smiled a lirtle. “My child, she wouldn't understand the language. She knows what she's dniug—it'sall of her own free will and aceo:d. Do yon see that retty lietle dink woman ? That's Mrs. win Chantry." i *“The one that was divorced 2" ‘Yes. They're hoth married again. He te ok the boy nud she took the girl.” ** Oh, why did they do it ?"’ . “Oh, they were just tired of each other. There was no special reason. I have hemd that she wanted a bigger yacht.” Ceoilia made a little inarticulate sound in her throat. Her eves had narrowed perplexedly. Her cheeks. had lost their blaze. ° “*Who is that queer-looking, elderly wo- man—the one with ali the emeralds 2’ she said, after a pauve. ; “Oh, that’s ‘Antiquity’ Ballant. She's the second richest woman here. They say Sears will have to warry her soover or later. She's tired of patting up for him. “Oh, don’t let kim; tell him, Dwight dear—how happy ** Her. voice flas- tered aeecond. Then it deepened and lowered. *'It's so easy to be happy, and it doesn’t coss HS “I's awful, isn’t it? I didn’t realize. Somehow, it all seemed npataral enough. I've always been accustomed to that sort of thing. But now, with you bere—"' “Who is that handsome woman in red 2’ Cecilia inquired next. Wu i ‘Mrs. Mainwaring Maynard. She was a show-girl. Maynard hought her from ber busband; they say. 1 guess he’s paid for her more than once. “Oh, don’t tell me any more about her. Who is that sweet little blonde girl ?"’ ‘“That’s Mrs. Richard Swain. That was a love-mateh. They were simply crazy about each other. Bat now they've obanged. So many of them do. Every- body says they'll be divorced before anoth- er year. J hat made yeu want to marry me ?"’ ‘‘Because you were so different. At first —- on I thoaghs I conldn’s. It was being at the Swaine’ and seeing their happiness that made me realize. 's why I am so sor- ry for them. He gave up a fortune to mar- | ry her. She was a typewriter in Blaok, Mellen & Co.'s. Taey began to quarrel after bis people took her up.” Cecilia caught ber Bh Her husband turned tc her. She stood stook-still, her lips parted ly, as if she won er breathe Sagica) And i» probing nity, glowing eyes gazed dumbly into | “I—dou’t—want—to— lose— you—=that way,’ she said, her breath escaping be- tween the words in a long strangling hiss. Ordway gazed back. As if an electric spark had lighted them from hers, his eyes fired, too. He moved and looked in the window again, his face changing. Then be turned to his wife and a smile sprang to his lips. Its fellow blossomed radiantly in her eyes and mouth. Their bands clasped. Then he led her to their carringe and they drove home. amar AP —Subeoribe for the WATCHMAN. Our Eastern Forests. With the first session of the new Con- gress the attention of every part of the country should be called to the various proposals which the National Forest Service and the various forestry boards of the sev- eral states bave prepared. It will be as well if every citizen can remember that such study and action as are are exactly what western Asia and northern Africa needed when their decline began. Because no such action was taken, because the forests of Asia Minor and of Syria and of northern Africa were destroyed, those lands are what they are. President Roose- velt, in his address at Raleigh, N. C., call- ed attention to this failure of those coun- tries, and he gives also the instance of China, an immense empire which owes its resent desolate condition to the destruc- tion of its forests. The nations around the Mediterranean were the centre of the civil- ization of the world. No cities were more prosperous thao theirs, no people were more proud or successful. And now, what were rivers then are but winter torrents, were cities then are straggling villages. A geveration ago, when the American Forestry Association was formed, Dr. Geo. | Bailey Loring, the head of the Department of Agriculture, said that he regarded the formation of that association as the most important movement which the American people bad started in those years. Thirty years bave justified his statements and rophecies. Indeed, the increase of our angers has awakened men from the indif- ference in this matter which marked the middle of the last century. As the readers of this journal know, evervoue who joined in the great conference at Washington last January, who saw that assembly or who heard the addresses made there, knows now that a general national interest has been awakened in the preservation of our forests, Railroad men, water-power men, repre. sentatives of hall a dozen great industiies, met together in the same great interest, What is especially important to be re- membered now, is the condition of forests, not in the Rocky Mountain watershed, but in thas of the Allegheny and the ranges eastward. Nothing shows the generosity of the na- tion more than the magnificent provision which it bas made for what was the Louis- iava of the Freoch, which is now that half of the United States west of the Mississippi river. In every state in that region, and in every territory, the general government has already established a mangnificent for- est reserve—in some instances more than one. Nothing shows the lavishness of our gen- erosity and the indifference of the majority to merely local selfishness more than the fact, which is itself carious, that on the east of the Mississippi, to the Atlantic ocean, there is no such reservation. At this moment the government is expending more than $20,000,000 for the proper irriga- tion of the arid regions of the West. But as this moment the general government is not ex ing five cents fi the regulation of the irrigation of the Oil I'hirteen States, or of the states born from them east of the Mississippi river. Yet the injury inflicted up commerce, upon travel, upon manufacsure, and upon agriculture, by the destruction of the for- ests of the eastern half of the continent will be, for a hundred years at least, greater than injary to the kindred interests in the western half. And these are injuries which affect sk 2 whole nation. The t state on the Pacific i* injured if the Pennsylvania railroad between Philadelphia and Pitts- burg is injured, the man who wears a flannel shirt in Montana is injured when the woolen manufacture of Lawrence or Hol- yoke is injured. Take that special instance : the water power at the sity of Holyoke is eaid to be the second water power in the United States. The water power of Niagara comes first,and the next power among those developed is the power at Holyoke. It is not absurd to say that the preservation of that water power should be left to the leg- itlation of the State of New Hampshire, to which the town of Holyoke does not be- long ? The water which drives the mills at Holyoke comes from the forests of New Hawpshire, of Massachusetts, and of Ver- mont. The Japes and other fabrics which are made at Holyoke go over the world. As I said, the ranchman in Montana feels an injury in Holyoke, and the nation to which that ranchman belongs, one might say, owes a debt to Holyoke. Speaking simply, the whole matter of water-flow is a national and not alocal affair. They found this out so soon as men set- tled in Idaho, in Wyoming, and Montana, and in other states which are called ‘‘irri- gation =tates,”” of the western half of the continent. Bat it is just as true of Rhode Island, of New York, of the Carolinas, and of Tenneasee,as it is true for Idaho, Wyom- ing, and Montana. Itis now proposed that a cousiderable body of land shall be reserved in the high- lands of she Carolinas, of Tennessee, of Virginia, and perbape of Kentucky, where the nation shall make sure thas the forests are not destroyed. It is not Jropued thas these holdings ahall necessarily make one connected territory, but is is proposed that the national authorities eball control the catting of timber there. This can only be done if the nation holds the property as the King of Prussian forests or the King of Bavaria holds the propeity in the Bavarian forests. There is ample experience which shows that the national investment iu such forests will produce a steady revenue guite sufficient to justify such expenditure, even il.is were regarded simply as au investment. In the case of Prussia, for instance, in the year 1902, after the forests had paid for their national administration hy the state, they paid into the general treasury of | Prussia, as a part of the anvual revenue, 56,000,000 marks. . Bat the resnlts of the control of the American forests is sought, not for a poor matter of revenue, but as a matter of policy extending forward, if you plepse, for a hundred years. The necessity in the case of the White Mountain Reservation ie even stronger. The present processes of lombering strip every shrub and tree which is larger than a blackberry bush. This means thas in the snows of wiuter and the consequent freshets of spring the eoil itself is cariied away. The harvest from that soil in the year 2,000, if you carry them on in such recklessness as now reigus, will be a har- vest of blackberries instead of a harvest of white pine. You cannot sis back in your obair and say that the twenty-first vetitury may take care of itsell. On the other A you are making sure that the twentieth century shall not take care of itself. You are making it im ble to reproduce the mageitioeut ne forests which once cover- ed the ential Range. Whine k 1d sido b new a pro- vision for the gradual purchase of the Ap- ian Reserve at South avd of the ew Hampshire Reserve around the White Mountains. The New Hampshire Reserve as surveyed by an intelligent commission under the direction of the United States Forest Service, might amount in the whole to fifty square miles. No possible expen- ditare could be of gieates benefit, not sim- ply to the states of New England, bat to the pation. And everyone must see that such preservation and culsivation as is proposed is mach safer in the bands of the national authorities than it would be under any local charge.—By Rev. Dr, Edward Everett Hale, in the Forestry and Irrigation. Frand in Fars As a people, we are very fond of fraud. We don't much care for law, and love to be fooled. In no line of commerce are we more regularly fooled and defranded than in the retail fur trade. The ermine which my lady buys for the opera coat cost her some doilars a skin. She may pay $1.00 for the black tip of the tail of one single ermine skin. The trapper who caught the weasel from which came the ermine got, perbaps, 10 cents for the skin; perhaps 5, perbaps nothing. That is not so bad, and no one could object to a commercial traus- action of that kind. A great many persons know that ermine is weasel. How many know that muskrat, pulled and dyed, is sold as seal; that nutria, similarly treated, lis sold as seal or beater; that rabbit so treated is wold as seal or electric seal; that pulled and dyed otter is regularly sold as seal; that marmot dyed is sold as mink and sable; that fitch dyed is sold as sable, and rabhit aleo as sable: that hare and muskrat are sold as mink or fable, and white rabbit as ermine or chinchilla or fox; that goat is | dyed and sold as bear; that many kinds of ' lamb are sold as Persian; that skunks are | called Alaska sah: thar American sable is sold as Russian crown sable; that mon- key and lynx and dog and fox aod polecat and muskrat and eat, and all sorts of high- sonnding names; that white hairs are regn- larly inserted in fox skins, and sometimes in sable skins? Surely, not all of our readers were advised as to these details. There isa vigilance committee appointed by the London Chamber of Commerce whose duty is to spread information against these trade frauds. We presome we need nothing of that sort in America, for here we don’t mimd heing fooled.— Field and Stream. A writer describes the different methods by which the various nations say ‘‘good- bye.” "The Tark will solemnly cross his hands upon hie breast and make a profound obeisance when he bids you farewell. The general Jap will take his slipper off as you depart, and say with a smile: ‘Yon are going to leave my despicable house in your honorable journeying — I regard thee!" In the Philippines the departiog bene- diction is bestowed in the form of rubbing one’s friend's face with one’s hand. The German ‘‘Lebe wohl” is not partie- ularly sympathetic in its sound, bus it is less embarrassing than the Hindoo's 2. formance, who, when you go from him, falls in dust at your feet. Tne Fijo Islanders cros« two red feathers. The natives of New Guinea exchange choe- olate. The Burmese hend low and say “Hib! Hib!” The **Aal wiedersehen'’ of the Austrians is the most feeling expies