Fe eee Bellefonte, Pa. July 27, 1906. At the Top of the Road. msi “Bat, lord,” she said, ‘ my shoulders still are strong— 1 have been used to bear the load so long; “And see, the hill is passed, and smooth the ond . . “Yet,” said the Stranger, “yield me now thy load.” Gently he took it from her, and she stood Btraight-limbed and lithe, in new-found maid- enhood. Amid long, sunlit fields; around them sprang A tender breeze, and birds and rivers sang. “My lord,” she said, “the and is very fair!" Smiling, he answered: “Was it not so there?" “There? In her voice a wondering question lay: “Was I not always here, then, as to-day?” He turned to her with strange deep eyes aflame; “Kpowest thou not this kingdom, ' nor my name?’ “Nay,” she replied: “but this I understand— That thou art Lord of Life in this dear land!" “Yea, child,” he, murmured, scarce above his breath “Lord of the land! but men have named me Death.” In the Smart Little Trap By VIRGINIA LEILA WENTZ Copyright, 1908, by Homer Sprague “And he has the smartest looking trap you ever saw, Madge! It's cham- pagne colored and a perfect love. What do you bet I don't land him, trap and all, before the summer's flown by? Miss Irene Warden, a beauty (and aware of it), was writing to her girl chum concerning the bachelor who had just taken the big colonial house with the carriage road and Iron archway which for several seasons now had abandoned hope of usefulness. She was writing by an open window where the scent of the roses came up from the front garden. Beyond lay the pretty tree lined road over which the bachelor and his champagne col- ored trap had just flown by. “Although I've told you his name is Horace Matlock,” ran on Miss War den’s pen, “I haven't told you what he looks like. He's an old man, forty or fifty, I should say. His nose is rather too big, although people call him hand- some, and he's a bit bald, but, then, I suppose most men who live In big houses and drive smart traps have big noses. What?’ Miss Warden smiled a little soft smile into the glass above her dressing table and then bent over her portfolio again: “Of course I'd prefer dear old Tom. He's young and stunning and sings college songs so beautifully, but, as you know, he hasn't a red! And I real ly must do something this summer Madge. My already meager allowance will be cut considerably in the autumn, for in September pa’'s going, to enter the matrimonial game himself—a hor- rid, designing widow too! So I must ‘step lively,’ In the parlance of street car officials. “In point of fact, though,” pursued the voluble pen, “it'll be pretty easy. plain sailing. I haven't a single good lcoking rival up In this out of the way place except old Professor Thornton's daughter, and she's the quietest poke of a girl—a regular stay at home. And as for dressing—well, Madge, you and 1 spend as much on our gloves and vells, I reckon, as she doss on her whole outfit. That's what comes from having a bookworm for a father.” The next week In the little village postoffice a friend presented Mr. Hor- ace Matlock to Miss Irene Warden. Apparently the meeting was by acci- dent, but Miss Warden felt her smooth cheeks flush, and her habitual com- | Hh picked up dear daddy? days later Matlock drove up to gE. gs i : : 2 i 3g ! : : £ £ him driving now and then. Perhaps some day also he would take the pro- fessor's daughter. He liked her. He liked the natural, unabashed way in which she had acknowledged her fa- ther’'s presentation of him, with her sleeves rolled up and her arms sweet peas; he liked the width her eyes, the breadth of her lines of her mouth. She was ty than many young girls, was about her a freshness, ness, that pleased him, and he ticed that her figure in her tle gown was well mold One evening toward out in the open lawn bats were whirl- ing aimlessly and tirelessly, Matlock dropped in upon the professor to make him a little call. He had fetched him 2 Ex Eff eit and slim. i “Moonlight Sonata.” “That's Cynthia,” said Professor Thornton in answer to his guest's start been, to play that sonata for me in the evening. I love it above all other writ- ten music, and she never forgets.” Then while the tree toads dromed their harmonies he told Matlock a lit- tle about his daughter—how four years ago he had suffered a paralytic stroke and she had been obliged to leave school in her graduating year and nurse him night and day with untiring sweetness; how, when their slender in- come was exhausted a year back, she had be~un to make use of her musical skill and give lessons on the piano. And when the professor told of Cyn- thia's triweekly trips to Adams, the nearest town, his silvered head went down on his coat sleeve, and in the Delighted!” she ly Si bo lations with outside bOI. “While you two have been gossipin I've been remembering your weakness for tea and have drawn you a cup. Will you come in, or shall we have it out here?’ likeness everything had been a stranger to that sort of thing for so long that it sent a kind of thrill shivering through him. to have a cozy tea table and a white hand to inclose in yours—Cyn- thia’s bands were slim and white enough as they moved among the china in the half light. He pulled a chair close for the professor, and then sat down himself. Before Mr. Horace Matlock went to bed that night he remembered that on the morrow Cynthia Thornton was to drive with him in his champagne col- ored trap. How it would harmonize with her soft hair before the ambitious sun touched it to gold! What a dear. little treasure of girlish drive and was, consequently, a bit She was not one to make con- tion, and the quiet and beauty scenes stretched out before her her very silent. Matlock, as he andled the reins, watched both her the landscape. There was a ofr- tain peace about them both. And peace was, above all things, what he wanted. The next day Miss Warden wrote to EEE ii Madge, dear, 1 wrote you that a cer- taln matrimonial venture would be ‘easy, plain sailing.’ Alas! I'm afraid 1 shall never find port—not, at least, with my bachelor up on the hill. And in the name of wonders, who of all people do you suppcse has taken the wind out of my sails? Cynthia Thorn- ton, the old bookworm’s daughter! He had her out driving in that little beauty of a trap three times during the last week to my knowledge! I'm afraid Cupid isn't very kind to me. You'll find I'll die an old maid after all, unless Tom" — At this point Miss Warden's pretty teeth absently caught the top of her she i | i ? : i 2] §% i es i fp i fi 5 H i | Bevaral physicians were relating i fi gf 18% in saving them from doing umnnegqes- sary night work. One doctor gawe an jostance demonstrating the best laid plans of men oft mis carry “When 1 got home this morning at 3 o'clock, dead tired from attesdding to a trying case,” he remarked, “I almost dreaded to look at the hall table, upon which my wife always leaves a note when there is an urgent call. I was naturally delighted to find that I did not have another call t6 make and at onee hurried to my bedroom and, with- ‘out lighting the gas, undressed in the dark and tumbled into bed. “My head touched something on the pillow. 1 lighted the gas to Investi- gate and found that my thoughtful wife had ed there a note, so that | FOOLING BENSON By Charles Freeman “No one has been in your compart- ment since the money came in, has there?’ demanded Robert Cable. “No one,” admitted Jack Niblo, “but, on the other band, I have handled no money from that drawer.” “Therefore it must have been a mis- take in your addition. I am sorry, Jack, but we shall have to look to you to repay the loss.” “But this Is the third time this week that this has happened,” pleaded Niblo. “All the more reason why you should be more careful,” sald the president shortly. “It Is inexcusable that a re- ceiving teller should make three mis- takes In a single week. If there is a repetition of this trouble I am afraid that I shall have to replace you.” Niblo bowed and left the private of- fice. It seemed pretty hard to him that he should be required to make good a $200 shortage in a single week, but three times when he had come to bal- ance his accounts he had found that he was short. Once it had been a bun- dred dollar bill that was missing, and twice his sheet showed a fifty dollar He had the money with which to make up fie loss, for he had been sav- ing up ever since Nettie Cable prom- ised to marry him. At this rate the savings would soon vanish, yet if he wasitotond to give up is pusition be sa “PORTY FPIPTIES,” HE LAUGHED. ‘DO YOU MAKE IT THE SAME?" relieve Benson the money is right to a penny. The loss or mistake or what- ever it is comes after that.” “But you can't be making mistakes all the time,” she insisted. possible that some one comes into your “Isn't it cage for a moment?’ “Not a soul was in there all the aft- ernoon,” he said positively. “And Mr. Fells cannot reach over from his cage?” “The money is all In the drawer. He would have to open that first.” “Have you looked behind the draw- er?” she asked hopefully. “Perhaps it just fell down behind.” “1 had the drawer out,” he explained, “and looked behind it.” “Who is that in there?’ she asked suddenly as they passed the bank | time. building. son.” she announced, “and I'm going to foo! him, see if I don't.” turned into the comeert hall, next the bank. and in the music Jack forgot the threat. He did not even recall it a few days later when Nettie came into the bank and, after a chat with her father, made her way to Niblo’s compartment. He sprung the latch on the lattice door for her and returned to counting the pile of bills in front of him. : She leaned on the counter beside him. | don Answers. I'm as clever as Mr. Ben- and as he turned over the’ bills he glanced at her. “Forty fifties,” he laughed. “Do you make it the same?” Nettie nodded, and he turned to the rest of the money. 8i- leutly she checked the other items on the deposit slip, and as the boy turned away from the window she picked up one of the bills. “What is that?’ she demanded, point- ing to some glistening particles. Niblo laughed. “That's from the foundry,” ke ex- plained. “Gregson has been buying some steel.” “How do you know?” she asked. “Gregson is peculiar, He pays cash for everything he gets. The foundry tends him stuff for the houses he is buikling in the new section, and as the last load is dumped he sends over to pay for it. He will not use a bank, but pays in cash, and he never lets a bill run overnight.” “Does he buy much?’ she asked as she fingered a bill “They deposit cash about three times a week.” “And always with this thing on?’ “It's steel filings,” expla Niblo. “They are everywhere ov: t the foun- dry.” Heslipped the bills in the drawer and stuck the slip on the spindle. “Jack,” she said suddenly, “count the money again.” “1 just did,” he said, in surprise, as he opened the drawer. The other bills had been banded, and it was an easy matter to get only the foundry deposit. He ran the bills over rapidly, then turned to her with a puzzled expres- sion. “What do you make it?” he asked. “Thirty-nine,” she declared as she picked up the pile of bills and laid “hem back in the drawer, * 't find the other even if you can. Just walt. As soon as you are out of the bank come over to George Castle's.” All through the rest of the afternoon he wondered as he went about his work. There was trouble over the shortage, and Niblo left the bank with a warning that the next mistake would be his last. He went straight across the street to the dental office in the postoffice building, where Nettie had told him to meet her, and in the darkness they watched the interior of the bank. At last Benson came into the recelv- ing teller's pen and fumbled there a moment, With a little cry Nettie ceased her vigil and went to the telephone. Half an hour later Nettie, her father and Niblo confronted Benson, still por- ing over his books. In his pocket was a bill to which the steel filings still clung, and Nettie led the way to Niblo's compartment. Pull- ing out the drawer, she fumbled be- neath for a second and drew out a heavy magnet. “I noticed that the filings were pasted on the bills,” she explained. “The treasurer at the foundry is Mr. Ben- son's cousin, They arranged that de- posits should be made in the afternoon, when the drawer was already full and the bills would reach high. One bill would stick to the magnet on account of the filings. The drawer is not locked after the money is taken out, and it was easy when the watchman x in another part of the bank to slip iA and take it off. If I had not tried to pick a speck off the bill Jack showed me no one would ever have guessed it. He gained his end and the money as well.” A little later Jack left Nettie at the gate, “With the salary that goes with the cashier's job I guess I can afford to get married now,” he said. “For what else did I fool Benson?’ asked Nettie as she raised her lips for a kiss. “I told you I'd do it, and I did.” of life before reaching their fiftieth year than men, but a less favorable one after that period. The proportion There are at present 3,000 languages spoken by the inhabitants of our globe, whose religions convictions are divided between 1.000 different confessions of faith, The avemage duration of life is thirty- One-fourth of the popule- tion of the earth dies before attaining the thousand | , : | g : 2 & g 5 5 The Clearness of Water. culture gives some interesting facts with i Ee Solos a? ha e nown that pure water appears blue ce light is transmit- ted through a sufficient thickness of it, and that when ue particles are suspend in it the hoe of the water i= greenish. But while pure water looks blue when light passes freely throngh it, yet wheu it is con- tained in a deep, opaque receptacie, like the basin of a lake or the ocean, it ought to absorb all light and look black. Expe- rience shows, however, that the deepest parts of the mediterranean, for instance, appear not black hot inten=cly blue. This has been supposed to he caused hy minute particles held in suspension, hut the recent experience of the scientist gunored suguests a different explanation. He bas found that warmer currents pas- sing through pure water interrupt its trans- parency, even wheu the difference of tem- peratare is very slight. Sach cursen's way can