i Ee ESET Bellefonte, Pa., July 27, 1906. "JAMES QUIN. feign of the Great Irish Actor In the Eighteenth Century. The son of an Irish barrister, himself tutended for the bar, lack of means «ofl consciousness of ability sent Quin oa to the stage. He made his first success In 1720, when he persuaded hristopher Rich to allow him to ap- pear as Falstaff in “The Merry Wives of Windsor.” After Booth's death he advanced still further in public esteem 5y what he modestly described on the »laybill as “his attempt” to follow that sragedian in his greatest part of Cato. ile so delighted the audience by his sttempt that after his delivery of the fine “Thanks to the gods, my boy has Jone his duty!” they cried: “Booth out- done! Booth outdone!” And after he mad spoken the then famous soliloquy en the immortality of the soul the en- thmsiasm reached such a pitch that In amswer to a vociferous demand for an encore Quin was obliged to repeat the speech. From this night Quin as an actor reigned supreme for ten years. It was a solemn reign, dignified, weighty, tra- ditional. He was unsurpassed in such characters as Falstaff and Sir John Brute, but In tragedy he did no more than uphoid with fine elocution, pon- werous majesty and rugged independ- eace that solemn unreality of speech 2nd action which both in England and France was then considered the ap- propriate expression of tragic sentl- went. As in France Le Kain was the rst to restore nature to tragic acting, so did Garrick in England by a similar soturn to nature expose the dullness, the lifelessness of the settled methods of the actors of the type of Quin. And wuln had too much good sense not to see it himself, for as a man he was the rather coarse embodiment of that rough vat ready witted, prejudiced but gen- erous and warm hearted disposition, which we admire and respect in Dr. Johmson. The few of Quin’s sayings preserved to us almost make one regret that he 2ad no Boswell by his side. Lords and bishops, clergy and gentry, all were represented In the circles of Quin's many friends, who delighted in his wit 2nd conversation. He could hold his «wn in an argument with any man. vue instance must suffice. At some zathering Bishop Warburton, dictato- rial and overbearing, was arguing in support of royal prerogative. Quin said to was a republican and thought that perhaps even the execution of Charles i. by his subjects might be justified. “Aye,” asked the indignant Warburton, ~&hy what law?’ “By all the laws he had left them,” answered Quin. The socked bishop then cited the wrath of eo divine judgment as visited upon the sogicides; they all, he sald (though it is not strictly true), had come to violent euds. “I would not advise your lord- «2p” said Quin, “to make use of that wu:farence, for if I am not mistaken that «8 the case with the twelve apostles.” tiamace Walpole greatly admired this zustance of the player's readiness and == ness of retort.—H. B. Irving in Fort- uishtly Review. Saflor's Story of Jungle Sargery. “There wuz {Ls here black Kamerun s=uage, nakel! os an animal” sald the +. lar, “and ticre wuz this explorer in i. pretty =uit of white drillin’, and «...1 a healdress o' human bones. They «272d under a palm tree. I sot on a log z... watched ‘em. The medicine man r=. the right arms of the savage and r..» explorer close together and then, +o =ishin’ a dull lookin’ knife, he nicks 2 +.n in the white arm and then an «omy in the black arm. The blood «>» a-gushin’ and a-gushin’ out o £ = black arm, and the medicine man «red it up in the holler of his hand 2:0 rubbed it into the nicked white «:z>. He must 'a’ rubbed in a pint be- 1 «+ te closed the wound. Transfoosion « 2's0d is what they call it. They say a) for African explorers to geo 1--z2gh the transioosin’ process. And § 1 you a funny thing about it. It :z".z3 the hair thicker and darker and & «-“kens the skin a couple of shades.” - rw Orleans Times-Democrat. ldest Body of Human Being. Ti» oldest body of any human be- 2. - reposes In the Egyptian gallery of a.» ritish museum. It is the body of = r2:n who was buried in a shallow «=~ hollowed out of the sandstone on + west bank of the Nile In upper wt. This man must have hunted LA i g EB HL li Sale. ie Had zB3 HH jeer 4 esd E i ie “ug or grave, all 7wfn=e the invention of any Lr nage~American Antiquarian. : g : 8 ? i= Sak: 3s : £3: With Claudia’s Assistance By INA WRIGHT HANSOM Copyright, 1908, by E. C. Parcells From the doorway Fitzgerald looked moodily at me from in front of the dresser. 1 looked moodily at Fitzger- ald. “She refused me,” he said. “I've got to go to Mrs. Whiting’s din- ner,” I answered. Fitz nodded and threw himself bheav- ily into a chair, “1 wouldn't go, you know, after Mrs. Whiting’'s niece refused me, so she had to rustie up you.” 1 glared at him, then jerked open the top drawer. “Seems to me, in the interest of hu- manity, you might have staved off your old proposal till after the dinner. I've got to take Miss Whiting in, What shall 1 say to her? I'm no soclety man.” “You might talk about me, It's darned strange she refuses me,” Fitz responded modestly. “Of course I'm fat, but what of that? Look at my money ?” I turned from my hair brushing and regarded Fitz with surprise, “She's different from other girls,” he went on mournfully. “You never know what she is going to do or say next. She said if she ever found the man she wanted to marry and he didn't ask her she would propose to him, You say a word for me, old man, and maybe she will change her mind about it.” “All right,” I sald and started for the infernal dinner. If I had been left in peace I could have translated a few more pages of that Latin work I was on. Why 1 should have (figuratively of course) fallen on my face and wor- shiped Claudia Whiting the moment I saw her I don't know. That any man could help adoring her after he came to know her is incredible, but I think I begAn before ever she sald a word to me. It couldn't be because her eyes were the bluest I ever saw or her hair crinkled sunshine—I suppose a poet would describe it better—or her lips red as the roses she wore in her bel One day since that dinner she told me something about affinities, It may be that mysterious word holds the reason. What we talked of is vaguely remem- bered. I know that I walked home- ward carrying with me a vision of sweetest seriousness, for that describes Claudia as she appeared that day. When I turned the corner, beyond which were my lodgings, I saw Fitz- gerald at my gate, his broad back to- ward me. I remembered my forgotten promise and fled incontinently. I couldn't face him. Later I stole into my room like a thief in the night. Next day I went to call on her and to make my peace with Fitz, who had in- terviewed me that morning. She was iu the garden, and I stated the object of my call at once. “If you knew him better you would appreciate him more,” I sald and launched forth at some length into his peculiar graces and virtues. Claudia listened, and when I had finished she leaned toward me, smiling roguishly. “And didn't you care about coming to see me? If it had not been for Mr. Fitzgerald you would have come any- way, wouldn't you?” To think that she should have looked straight into my heart and discovered my perfidy! I almost let go of my se- cret. I almost answered, “I came be- | cause 1 love you.” And this on the ! second meeting. | Then because, must talk, and there { were some things I must not say, I began talking of myself—my college life, my failing health, forcing me to live for years In the pine forests; then when my health was restored how the woods still held me with their soli- tudes, =o that I was unhappy and {ll at ease in society. “I have quite a pretentious cabin there,” I sald. “In it are my books and my viclin. Back of it flows a clear stream with trout waiting for me to catch them for my breakfast. Noth- ing is wanting there to make me en- tirely comfortable.” i My face grew hot, for all at once 1 realized there was a want—a vold—to be filled. That If I went back to my cabin now it would be as lacking as the body whose soul is not within. “1 was born and bred in the woods!” exclaimed Claudia. “The stars look closer and bigger than they do in the cities of the lowlands. Up there in the mountains are ferny nooks and man- zanita; there Is water cress which ”» ! i and | and those | tomes—why should I have supposed “i iz P 2% 8 i EE ges id kg: ! Ei IH i ieiast Figs iil £5 Bis : 7 gi 3E g § k : with laughter, and I suspect she poking fun at me In her irrepressible way. Then there was the morning when we walked together to church and she talked so quietly of holy things, and there was that last after- noon in the garden before Fitz home. That day it was the hardest of all to £0 insistently over their blue beauty. At last I pulled myself together with the thought that he could do so much more for her than I, even if she could bring herself to think of me at all, and made my last earnest speech for him. She frowned a little, then she smiled and looked thoughtful. “I think I shall have to teach you to read poetry,” she said. “Will you?’ I asked eagerly. “Begin on ‘The Courtship of Miles Standish,’ then,” she answered and ran, laughing, up the walk. “1 did the best I could for you, Fitz,” I told him when he returned that even- ing. And I rehearsed the last speech in full, “What did she say?” he demanded. “Why—she didn't say anything to that. She told me—or hinted—that my education was deficient because I had little knowledge of poetry, and ghe told me to begin on ‘The Courtship of Miles Standish.’ ” . Fitz looked at me mournfully. “That's my finish then. Have you read it?” “I was just beginning.” Fitz walked heavily from the room, and I took up my new Longfellow. Short of atature he was, but strongly built and athletic; Brown as a nut was his face, but his russet beard was already Flaked with patches of snow. Pretty good description of myself, I thought. Not exactly patches, but there were certainly threads of gray. I read on till the speech was finished, the egotistical words of Miles Standish; then I bowed my head In shame and anger. I had talked steadily of myself and my work, but she had led me on. She had no right to call me down so. Tomorrow I would go back to my cabin and forget, but yet I knew I ghould always remember. I was still brooding when Fitz came back. “I don’t blame you, old man,” he be- gan. “Probably you'll make her hap- pler; but, Lord, look at my money!” I blinked at him as he settled down. “Neat way she had of bringing mat- ters to a focus,” he went on, picking up my book which lay face downward on the table. “Why, darned if I be- lieve you've read it all!” “I've read enough,” I said resentful- ly. “I read what she thinks of me.” One moment that blessed Fitz gazed at me, then In words of one syllable he gave me the gist of that poem—made me to understand that my Claudia was impersonating the Puritan maiden in her immortal speech, “Why don’t you speak for yourself, John?" And to think I ever had deemed Fitzgerald stupid! I found my blessed girl in the gar- den, but she did not hear my approach. She was on tiptoe, trying to reach a rose which swung above her head. “I have come to speak for myself, Claudia,” I sald. The dear hands ceased from their quest to hide the blushes of her sweet face. Her girlish form trembled. “You think me bold!” she cried ap- prehensively. It was such a glorious affair to prove to her just what I did think of her, and it took a long time. And then she ex- plained to me about affinities. Some Funny Speeches. An Irishman who was very ill, when the physician told him that he must prescribe an emetic for him, said, “In- deed, doctor, an emetic will never do me any good, for I have taken several and could never keep one of them upon my stomach.” An Irishman at cards, on inspecting the pool and finding it deficient, exclaimed: “Here is a shilling short. Who put it in?’ A poor Irish servant mald who was left handed placed the knives and forks upon the dinner table in the same awkward fashion. Her master remarked to her that she had placed them all left hand. ed. “Ah, true, indeed, sir,” she said, “and so I have! Would you be pleased to help me to turn the table?’ Doyle and Yelverton, two eminent members of the Irish bar, quarreled one day so violently that from hard words they came to hard blows. Doyle, a power- ful man with the fists, knocked down Yelverton twice, exclaiming, “You scoundrel, I'll make you behave your- self like a gentleman!” To which Yel. nation: “Nv, sir; never! You could not do it!"—London Specta- tor. The Queer Burmans. One who has lived among them says: “The Burmans are a primitive people. They are a very young people. There are certain marks and signs by which physiologists can determine the relative youth or age of a race. One of these is : ih i oR E iH: : ; STOCK CLEANING We are now offering the bal- ance of our SUMMER FOOT. WEAR at bargain prices. This offer includes everything that remains in Women’s, Miss- es and Children’s White Can- vas and Kid, Black and Pat. ent Leather and Tan Low Cuts. Also our Men’s, Boys and Youth’s Oxfords of all kinds, and a splendid Ime of Men's Tan Blucher €3.00 Shoes at $1.98 We still have a few Boys’ and Youths’ Tan Shoes at a very low price. We can please you now but come early for the supply is limited. YEAGER & DAVIS OPEN EVENINGS. A Mussulman’s Ideas, A respectable and honest Mussulman —and of course there are millions of Mussulmans entitled to that descrip- tion—will not swallow alcohol if he knows it, even for the good of his health; will not lift “the harem veil,” even {if lifting it is essential to the life of his wife or daughter; will not take out an insurance, even when failure to do so Is ruinous to him in a busi- ness competition, and will not in a country ruled by Mussulmans from any motive whatever short of a neces- sity such as destroys freedom of will accord equality to men of any other faith. In these respects he is a “fanat- fc"”—that is, he will act upon the pre- cepts of his creed as interpreted by its doctors without reference to any other consideration, and especially without reference to convenience or to the opin. fons, moral or otherwise, of men ot any other faith. A Mussulman’s creed is for him the operative law, as cus- tom is for a Chinaman, or a caste rule for a Hindoo, or duty for a good Eng- lishman, or that which is convenient for a respectable Frenchman, and, though there are points upon which he will break the law, especially for gain, there are also points, es; those we have mentioned, upon ch he will not—rather will be chopped in pleces or chop you and take all con- sequences serenely. — Lonuon Specta- tor. T_T, Medical. Boop HUMORS Commonly cause pimples, boils, hives, eczema, er salt rheum, or some other form of eruption ; but sometimes they exist in the system, indicated by feelings of weak: ness, languor, loss of appetite, or general debility, without causing any breaking out, Hood's Sarsaparilia expels them, renc- system. This is the testimony of thous. ands annually. Accept no substitute, but insist on hav. ing HOOD'S SARSAPARILLA, Ia usual liquid form or in chocolated tablets known as SARSATABS. 100 doses £1. 51.28 aear the Passenger Station. 16-18 — MONEY TO LOAN on good secarity 5l14-1vr. HIGH STREET, BELLEFONTE. - He sols ain FER= g 4525338] fi E sf ¢ £ sais E i : iat i ! inside a piece of wrapping paper.— Somerville Journal. Coal and Wood. JLPWARD K. RHOADS Shipping and Commission Merchant, DEALER [Ne ANTHRACITE axp BITUMINOUS (ze) w=CORN EARS, SHELLED CORN, OATS we snd other grains. —BALED HAY and STRAW— SOILDERS' and PLASTERERS' SAND = KINDLING WOOD—— vy the bunch or cord as may suit purchasers. Respectfully solicits the patronage of his and the publie, at - we HIS COAL YARD... ~—Take Vin-te-na and the will put new life in you. If not ted money refunded. All druggists. Plumbing etc. A. E. SCHAD Fine Sanitary Plumbing, Gas Fitting, Furnace, Steam and Hot Water Heating, Slating, Roofing and Spouting, Tinware of all kinds made to order. Estimates cheerfully furnished. Both Phones. 4243-1y Eagle Block. BELLEFONTE, PA Telephone. OUR TELEPHONE is a door to your establish. ment If Your Time Has Commercial Value, If Promptness Secure Business. If Immediate Information is Required, If You Are Not in Business for Brercise at home and use your Distance Lots tance Telephone. excuse for travel 47-251 PENNA. TELEPHONE CO. tobe cule {Son IE Money to Loan. and houses for rent. J. M. KEICHLINE, © Att'y at Law, HOTEL FIXTURES FOR SALE! All the fixtures and furnishings of the MUSSER HOUSE, MILLHEIM, are offered for sale by the landlord, whose health demands his release from the cares and responsibilities of the hotel. ‘The building}is for rent or sale, For par tieulars, call on or address A. M. REESER, 51-1841 Millheim, Pa.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers