2 Ho £ i ® g £ ® i { HI Bera tp Bellefonte, Pa., March 1, 1907. EACH IN HIS OWN TONGUE. A fire-mist and a planet, — A crystal and a cell, — A jelly-fish and a saurian, And caves where the cave-men dwell; Then a seose of law and beauty, Add a face turned from the clod,— Some call it Evolution, And others call it God, A haze on the far horizon, The infinite, tender sky, Theripe, rich tint of the cornfields, And the wild geese sailing high, — And all over upland and lowland The charm of the goldenrod,— Some of us call it Autumn, And others eall it God. Like tides on a crescent sea-beach, When the moon is new and thin, Into our hearts high yearnings Come welling and surging in,— Come from the mystic ocean, Whose rim no foot has trod — Some of us call it Longing, And others call it God, A picket frozen op duty, — A mother starved for her brood, — Hoerates drinking the hemlock, A Jesus on the rood; A2d millions, who, humbie und naneless, The straight, hard pathway plod, — Some eall it Consecration, And others call it God. —By Professor William H. Carruth, THE LADY ROWENA, ar “You are toreafdnable--1 may sj ex: ceedingly unreasonable,’ remarked Rowe- na, frowning with displeasure and feigning to stare at the tennis players. These were 80 far distant aoross the stretch of green- sward that even their cries of score came to us but faintly. Besides, we had not the slightest interest in the game. Sol knew that, no matter how far fixed Rowena’s gaze, she was in reality regarding me and not the netted turf, “Whit did you favoy I came foi?” I asked, ‘I; wasn't the easiest thing in the world to.get away for the week, this week especially. Bat when Mrs. Stacey wrote that you had ventured the opinion I might ‘be induced to come, I jamped at the con- clugigh—" "Aunt Margaret had no warrant for any such high-banded proceeding,” she inter- rupted. endeavored to be calmly convincing. “‘I naturally jumped at the conclusion that you had something to say to me at last,” I finished. While I spoke ten-year old Har- old came into view down the lane. We marked bim stop and hold converse atthe gate-keeper’s lodge, his tiny fox terrier yelping at his fees. ‘There are never any conclusions at house parties,’ remarked Rowena. ‘‘There may be beginnings, but that is all. And jumping at covclusions is a form of gym- nastics which may develop mental muscle, but of what avail can is possibly be?” “Truly of what avail?” I echoed gloom- ily. *‘It is a practice fis for children only’ — my preceptress seemed to be fairly lannoh- ed. ‘‘Harold, for instance—"'' ‘‘Harold wight jump at the conclusion that yon and I were enjoying a pleasant conversation. He might, and probably he has.” Rowena colored with displeasure. ‘‘Har- old is an absurd child. He has arrived at the novel-reading stage. For the last mouth be bas been gorging himself with ‘Ivanhoe.’ ”’ “Lucky Harold!" I exclaimed. *‘I re- mewber my first taste of romance. The fla- vor departs in time. However, let me crave leave to humbly address the Lady Rowena.” “Don’t be silly,” she soapped. ‘‘Har- old bas other ideas equally foolish. He has named all of you. The gatekeeper, to whom he is gesticulating at this very mo. ment, is Garth, the swineberd. Harold's own spaniel is Fangs. Peroy Winslow is Wamba.”’ ‘Well cast, Harold,” I murmured. “Go on please.”’ “Rawlins Richaidson is the Templar.” — I mentally rated Harold as keen bevond bis years—‘‘Horace Trevano, the Black Sluggard.” She laughed silently. ‘‘And the cook, Dick, the cook, for whom Harold cherishes a really tender regard —she is Re- becea.”’ I paused ere I joined in ber merriment. There was yet a pertinent inquiry concern- ing the matter in hand. *‘Your cast of characters lacks one neces- sary principal,” [ announced. ““To whom will your impressario intrust the role of Willred?’ The hint of warmth upon her cheek enlightened me beyond peradrent- ure. ‘Then, if the Lady Rowena pleases —'" | went on. ‘‘We bave chattered about a stupid child’s game long enough,” remarked her ladyship, rising abruptly. “I am going over to the tennis cours.” ‘‘Desdichado!” I cried triumphantly as I followed her. ‘‘Harold flatters me more than some other persons I wot right well of. And Isball do my utmost to merit his esteem.’’ Was it a sneer tbat I marked upon Row- epa’s face? Let us call it—for want of a better term—a sniff. At least it was be. twixt and between, This was of a Saturday. Sunday morn- ing alter a late breakfasts I thoughtfally watched Rawlins Richardson and Rowena drive off in the runabout to attend service at the village chapel four miles distant. The house was yely dull. There had been muoh and late bridge the night before and, besides the servants, and I alone seemed to be lefs with a yearning for activ- ity. I encountered him in the evi- dently bound outdoors by way of the pan- try. He would steal a glimpse of Rebecca then, I fancied. Bus I stopped him, Fangs —pro tempore—at his heels. 3 re Srendiglly ut out for no to 0, began ving learn ® from certain small nieces and that mercy. There is a deal of latent chivalry in ten and twelve, to all of how- ever, there lies bus one route. I had plos- ted well. me then frankly. ‘It is stupid ol a Aid he agreed. could, for I haven’s told anyone call that downright mean.” } plica of the one the Templar had shaken becca basn’t bad a word with me,” I pro tested. “*Oh, bother Rebecca! I mean Rowena. She got me to talk about it. 1 wounldn’s for a while, but she kept on worrying me to tell ber who was Willred. It’s only a lis- “| tle while ago that she was playing book with me herself. I'll never tell a girl any- thing again.” ‘‘Harold,”’ I said feelingly, *‘if yon stick to tbat vow during your natuaral life you will be a man apart, but a happy man.”’ ‘You'll probably gny me about it, like all of em do when they find out,’ said the boy defiantly. ‘‘Bati don't care. Any- way it was Rowena herself that suggested you for Wilfred. I bad you picked for De Bracy.” ‘You flatter me,” I rejoined. ‘‘And don’s think I intend to make eport of your interesting experiment in types. What I'm going to do is to help yon see that this modern edition of ‘Ivanhoe’ is developed according to tradition. Between us, my boy, we must see that hereafter the Tem- plar confines his attention entirely to the fair Rebecca. And Rowena—" | paosed, for the youngster was looking at me more keenly than I had bargained for. When understanding comes to a child it does not approach stealthily, but witha | sudden rush. “Cousin Rowena?’ asked the boy ex- pectantly. Ilelt my composure shaken. ‘In tho hook, you know, Harold, at the end, the Disinherited Knight lands the Lady Row- eon,” I finished, lamely enovgh. ‘You mean you're mashed on her 2’! I gasped at the direct attack, but rallied. ‘“I'o put it blantly, young sir, that’s about it,” I answered, “You've guessed it.” “Humph!" remarked Harold. “It wasn’t exactly guessing. Anyway, she's known it for some time,” . Now I qnould Lavi a real ally, I knew. i grasped his band while the ridiculously 8itiall terrier spun around us in frantic cir- cles, anxious to be off. ‘Let's go out to the stables,” I suggested. ‘‘I have'nt looked at the horses yet. We can talk over things better out of doors. And, unless you object, let’s not tell Rebecca about the Templar, at least not yet.” ‘Say,’ said the boy as we went npon the veranda into the Sunday country still- ness, ‘‘I believe you used to play at make- believe yourself before you grew uj." ‘“Idid,” I confided. ‘‘And I like play- ing just as moch as I ever did, only this game isn’t eutirely make believe yon kong," Little recked Rowena of our ieague and paot, else she would not have smiled with such deliberate unconcern at Harold and me as she and the Templar wheeled into the driveway with a flourish. All thrcogh luncheon they prated laughingly of the vil- lage choir and the village parson’s hedge Latin, trotted out, they inferred, for their especial delectation. As for myself, I fan- cied I recalled that the Templar’s freshman attack upon Livy and the satires of Horace bad been anything bus a gallantly conduot- ed siege, but I said naught. It would not have been magoanimous, I argued, in the light of events for the happening of which Harold and I bad arranged. Upon the following morning the leaven began to work. To me, at ease in a striped hammock, enjoying an after-breakfast ci- garette, came the Templar, possessor of a mystefied frown. He proffered me a bit of brown wrapping paper, bearing sundry scrawle in ink, and, I regretted to observe, many finger smudges. **What do yoa think of this, Dick?’ he asked. I found it upon my dressing ta- ble.” Outward appearance and mode of ex- pression had been left entirely to Harold's discretion, I tarnishing only the general trend of communication, and I saw that my ally had not foiled in his pars. I read : FALSE TEMPLAR : Forgoe your mash apon the nobel ward of Cedric the Saxun upon Apso of inst. deth by the nobel falshion of Wilfred, the Dis- inherited. Rebecca noes all. LocksLey, Chief of the merrie Foresturs. His mark. Vor XLI.—22 ‘Somebody is getting funny,” said the Templar. *‘Whas I want to know is, is it the kid, Harold, or some of the servants?’’ ‘It seews to be a well-meaning note,” I remarked. taroing it in my hands and re- marking that, after all, brown wrapping paper passed fairly well lor swelfth-century parchment. ‘‘The question is, have you done anything to deserve it?" “I showed is to Rowena,’ said the Tem- plar. ‘She laughed in a queer sort of way aud then said she thought I owed her aunt an explanation,’ “H'm,”” I mased. deeply involved.” My words seemed to nettle him. ‘Don’t be av ass Dick,” he cried. ‘What is it all about, and who the deuce is Rebecca?’ ‘*Ab, that is joss it. Who is Rebecca?" It was ‘Rebecoa’ that Rowena probably thought needed explaining.” He turned to go. *‘I don’t mine prac- tical jokes if they aren’s too deep to unde:- stand,”’ he compiaived. ‘‘Did you ever read a book called ‘Ivan- hoe’?"’ I asked. I was reasonably sure he badn’t. *‘I¢’s ove of those old ones, isn’t it?" in- quired the Templar. “I'ma bit foggy on the old ones.”’ ‘‘Better borrow Rowena's copy,’’ I called after him. But when Rowena approached me a half hour later, bearing a ragged square of the now familiar brown-paper parchment, she was masking her merriment tolerably well. In fact her eyes blazed as she sat ber down upon the veranda railing and regarded me with an incriminating “Evidently you are he am til wel 1 hr plar vea bitofl a & em has been with me. The Sepia wally amusing this mothing. 1 “‘But ‘Dick’ ion m, me name,’ protested. ‘‘I am could only see with the slear child you would observe that I am sworded and buoklered, with an uprooted tree upon my shield!” you would the ex- hibit dn the Sane, sugiotted. She hanged me the paper w was, save the subsnceof li otering Taba 3 re for yureself also. His falebion is you e sharp for the trayterons. Wouldest hoe his nobel rank and titel? He is the Disin- herited Night. Expect anuther ward soon. “I give yon my word of honor that Re- LocksLeY (delivured by Allen-a-Dail.) His mark. ‘*Now, honestly, aren't you ashamed 2" she demanded. “Really, my lady,’’ I observed, handing back the letter. ‘‘We live in patlons romantic times. One is but a weakling when surrounded by Robin Hood and his merry men.” I should have #aid more, mayhap, but with a stamp of the foot—a most hecom- ing demonstration—Rowena was gone. | beard her laughing with the Templar a mo- ment later. There was a listle alloy in their merriment, however. The Templar’s sounded palpably put on. Rowena’s voize —1 gloated as I detected it—was also deli- cately flavored with a sense of iojary. ‘‘Bless you, Harold!” I said as I clambered out of the hammock and went within to the billiard table. The week sped on. Sarely genuine knight never had srustier or more industri- ous squire than I. From the frequent ap- pearances of brown wrapping paper throughout the house I could have imagin- ed that the child eat up o’ nights to com- plete his correspondence. I have reason to know that even Bridget received a terrify- ing communication signed ‘Friar Tack,” audit needed some irrational pacilying ere the good cook, alias Rebecca, could be con- vinced that the sprawling characters did Dot contain an evil portent from a priest in the village, whom Rebecca indeed had nev- er seen, but whose name she vowed might be Tuck for all she knew. It was Harold who brought me the news, avd it was I who calmed Rebecca’s soul and secured a promise from her that the matter should go no forthsi, arre. Stacey a8 # long suffer- ing soul—according to Rowena—but even she, I was sure, would not tolerate my playing games which might uncog the smoothly running wheels of her below. stairs machinery. It was Thursday, I think, when I was aroused from slumber by the sound ofa trumpet, uudisguisedly tin, wound with. out my chamber window. I bad slept late that morning, and I was not yet fairly awake when I poked my head through the open casement, which looked oot upon a ohoice gorner of Mrs, Stacey’s garden. Lo! It was Harold, and I was not too heavy lidded to mark that he had been perforni- ing upon an instrument which he loved to favoy Locksley’s hunting born. Plainly he was in romantic wood. The sight of flowers and green grass, with the soft odors of a late summer morn, swayed me weak}y toward his bent. *‘Did I hear the three mote, good Looksley 2’ I called. The boy danced in glee. “You didst,” he cried in reply, and waved another frag- mens of brown paper at me. ‘‘May I come up? This is from—you know.” He jerk- ed his elbow toward the south, where, by leaning ont at a perilons angle, I conld glimpse the jutting gable which marked the Lady Rowena’s orial window. With my vod be was off like a shot and soon I heard the clatter of his feet—Harold was vot the sort to steal upon fhe fallow deer without warning—in the passage, and I made him welcome. *‘I'thought youn never would get awake,’ be said, perching upon my steamer trunk and watching me haul out my shaving tackle. ‘‘She’s given in. They all do after a while. And she’s begun to play the game with us.” I took the brown-paper message. mean, good forester?’ ‘Cousin Rowena,’’ he explained with a grin. ‘‘Maybe the Templar won's be sore. She gave me this after breakfast when you didn’t show up.”’ Of a truth if the Lady Rowena had be- gun to play the game with us, then —1I was afraid the expectant youngster mighs bear the pound of my heart as I read the printed letters. Rowena had made them remarkably like the sprawling handiwork of her yoathlal cousin. I read : To We goof kuight, Sir Wiltred of Yvan- oe: This is to saye thatte the ward of Cedrick bath word for thy ear alone. But I maye notte tell itt thee by speaking, so this day I bave writ a letter which thou mayest find by the key which I doe sende herewith hy the merrie woodranger, Locksley, whom I trust well in alle things. THE LADYE ROWENA. ‘‘Give me the ress of it,”’ I demanded of Harold. Rowena’s parchment evidently had given out, for the key was indited up- on a sheet of her own monogrammed pa- per. I studied is : Walk south from the barbican until the stile that leads to the mead through which the brooke ronpveth. Fare forward in a straighte line until the blasted butte:nut tree. Pat thy back toitte and walk fifty Jasee due weste. Here there shouldst hea lighted wild rose hush. Digge beneath the rootes of itte and read what thou find- est. Alas, Rowera! Even in the twellth cen- tury, then, the dames ran to postscripts, Thou muste come alone and unattended even by the merrie woodranger, Locksley. “You I whistled, while Harold wagged his bead in appreciation. “It’s great, isn’s it?’ he said. ‘‘Row- ena always could play hetter than any of us when she felt like is.”’ “I misdoubt me, good Locksley,’ I mused. *‘The letter may he a trap. You see, the key indicates that I am to go alone and uvattended. The Templar may be concealed behind that busternut-tree, for all we know, waiting to spit me with his lance.” Harold leaped off the steamer trunk and strutted up and down, motioning as if he were drawing back the notch govee shall. ‘‘Be of cheer, Sir iltred,”” he chirped. *‘I shall give thee : : : i § g il Hi ff i | iz iif i a the earth from its roots. Finally floating through the high thorn barrier there came to me an occasional call from the tennis court. [I smelled the fragrance of the hail dismantled hay-rick and the afternoon was very warm. [dug industriously. ‘Ob-00-ee-000! EEH!"” I jamped to my feet with a malediction half uttered. F.r surely that was Rowena’s scream and, | doubtless the Templar—— Around 1h coruer of the rick she came, her face vcar- let and arms flying at sixes and sevens, as is ever the case when a woman runs. But there was no langhter in her eyes as 14 + met mine —regarding my ecarth-staine! knees, my fingers grasping a dented tin trampet and the key of her own manaf.ic- ture. “Run, Dick! He's almost caught m-'' she cried. ‘ Some careless stableman }.a« let King Dodo loose in the meadow. ’’ I understood. There was the rick nt hand, and a few yards away was the thick- set hedge, impervious even to Harold '~ wriggles. I bad heard of King Dodo, Mr~. Stacey's blue-ribbon Holstein. One dart to the rick’s edge, aud I saw him caracol- ing deliberately toward us, anger unmis takable in his bulging hide. Bat there are things to remember even in the face of great danger. So I confront- ed Rowena. ‘‘Where is the Templar?” 1 demanded. i ‘Don’t be asking silly questions, Dick," | she pleaded. Rowena in really abject ter- | ror was a new and undeniably delicious tableau. *'Did you think I'd have asked him tocome ? wanted to laugh at you all by myself.” Ounce, just once, hat with excellent ar- ticulation, Kinz Dodo beyond bellowed. Come here, | gommanded. She came, aud T Zelt her all of a tremble as J tossed ber upon the bay. With a bound I follow- ed, gaining a coign of vantage by means of the cleatcd pole that the Stacey baymakers bad left, to be an unforeseen succor in time of need. Enter King Dodo. He saw us, for Rowena's cry at his a pearance sent his rolling eyer upward. e pawed several times, finishing my well-be- gna work of uprooting the rose-bush, and then after one or two circuits of the rick, began eating at the hay as if he wonld chew his way to where we were instanter. “Bat he'll get indigestion long before he eats as far as our toes,” I said by way of comfort. We sat that way for many mine utes. The son flamed his way toward a comfortabie drowse in a remarkably pretty orimeon blanket, the crickets chirped prac- tice orescendos—and King Dodo ate, with now and then a glance askance and above. *‘This might be the pavilion at Ashby,” I remarked after a long silence—she was sulking abominably, I thought. “And see, Front de Boeal holds the lists against all comers,"’ ‘For the last week, Dick, I think your jokes have beeu rather tiresome,’ said the Lady Rowena. ‘‘Besides this bay is nasty and scratchy, I am being sunburned terri. bly, and we've both got to dress for din- ner,’ ‘‘Ha!"" oried I. “I bave it! Good Locks- ley did say that three mots upon his stout hunting-horn would do the trick.” I raised the tin trompet to my lips— somehow I had kept hold of is—and blew three cracked, heart-rending shrieks. There was a rustling in the hedge be- youd. A smartly propelled, if blag, ar- row struck the black and white flank of Kiog Dodo, and with a shrill ery of “‘A Locksley to the rescue,’ the radiant front of Harold, uphborne amid the twigs, con- fronted us. ‘Harold, get right down!’’ called Rowena in anguish. “If auntie sees you with an- other jacket ruined.” “Thanks, good Locksley,” 1 called. ‘‘Make thee for the cassle—and sell the stablemen to bring a stous pitchfork,” I added. With a shout of delight the voung- ster was off upon bis errand. I looked at Rowena, bus she did not look at me. Then I gazed away toward the sunset. Bat when I looked at ber again I seemed to mark a difference. I could be sworn her anger bad been banished, leaving behind only wearisomeness, memory of a justifiable vexation, and a proneness to tears. Upon the hay, well etched against a mass of brown cloverheads, lay the Lady Rowena’s band. There was danger, perhaps, but we bad already weathered one peril. ‘‘Roweua,’’ said I. “I'm sorry. Bat it hasn’t been all in fan, vou know. Back ol it all I was in earnest.’ I breathed a prayer that the stablemen and Harold might be long in finding the pitchfork. For she whispered, ‘‘Really aod traly in earuest, Dick?" “Really and truly. Aod how was I to steel myself against the sight of youn and the Templar if I didn’t make believe?" “The plar is tiresome.’ Ot course I should not have done it. Bat leaning forward to put my arm around ber, I slipped. The loosened grass sagged, and then with a peppery cloud of hayseed and a stifled cry from wena, we slid to the ground under King Dodo's very nose. High went the black and white head; for a moment tha keen horns shook menacingly, and then, with a snort, a very much terri- fied bloe-ribbon bull wheeled and fled across the meadow, followed by the shouts of Harold and the stablemen, who had ap- peared upon the horizon. Guo pure! + was a) that Rowen was capable of saying. As for me, I spoke not, but looked at the uprooted rose-bush and would bave bent me again to bunt upon the ground. ‘‘Don’t, Dick,’ she . ‘But why?’ “I wantto find it, you know. The key says—"’ ‘‘Botber the key—and don't—Harold is coming,” cried she. ‘“There really wasn’t Joyeniug bade the bush. I meant to hide behind the rick and when you n't found anything and were very much disap- pointed, I was going to slip out—and then 1 might bave been kind to you.’* Bo d al hese too long my confiden- ti or me to let appearances assume a false value. So I eyed him with fortitude as he reached us, flushed and a bow and quiver. There was realization in the child’s stare and truly I did not think of deceiving him. “Good —? said. Locksley “Huh! you didn’t need anyway,’ he broke in. ‘King Dodo a, cow- ard. He'd have run if Joa throw a handful of bay at him. I was hid in the BeBe waisiog toy ou to blow the horn.” ‘As the end of she book, you know, Har- ‘Yes, I iy said the boy. ‘‘You said shat at the end of the book Wilfred lands the Lady ” “Well, she landed,’ said I. *‘Ask her ‘‘Are you,Cousin Rowena?’ King Dodo coarged. 1 shin Term, Har . . am old,” she murmured, bending to kiss the struggled free. obild, who ule ERP? B8 remarked. "Tue the yon. too fast. There was a before the end of the book.” ! flan the Gulf Stream Any Influence (city was due to the fact that the Gulf | the presistent action of the trade winds, “It’sa matter we sha’n’s care so tell | are o bout just yet, good Looksley,’’ I suggest- or ed while we moved slowly toward the bat. ternot-tiee. “We shall pio our faith to your fine sense of honor. And, above ali, dou’t tell Rebecca.” “Aw, what's the use of playing pretend any longer?’” asked Harold. ‘‘There ain't any Rebececa—There’s only Bridget—now.”’ As we strode onward a change seemed to bave come over the face of things. There was no stile; moated castle bad shrunk to A ere country house; belted knight and faithful squire had been transformed into plain gentleman of the town and a ten- year-old boy, the pet of a pastry cook. A tran