Bellefonte, Pa., May 3, 1907. THE LONE HEART. You are taking her down to the Ofphans’ Home, This little bit girl, you say; It is {sweet she would Jook with her hair s-curl, And a smile in those eyes of gray. I mind the yard where the hearse drove out With the box, and her one last frend: £0 there's only the Orphan's Home for her? I've a bet, maybe 1 might spend. It is all alone in this house am I, Bat you see Lhe flowers on the lawn, And the tabby-cat on the porch asleep, And bluebirds that sing at dawn. 1 would love to fashion a gown of red For a little bit girl like this; Would you put your arms round my neck, wee one, And give to me, dear, a kiss? Oh, "it's warm in my heart is the feel I have! You've a look like a child I knew, To be sure her hair it was black, not light, And her eyes of the violet's blue. But there's something that stirs me a thought of her— Blue violets cover her breast— You shall hear the songs that I sang to her When I cuddled her down to rest! 1 will kiss a rose to your cheek of white, 1 will find the curl in your hair; And you'll not go down to the Orphans’ Home While I have a bit to share. -— Youth's Companion, EXPLORER'S, THE In my early youth I had. vacillated be- tween so many trades and professions that I grew up jack of all. But, strictly speak- ing, I became u discontented graduate of the Physicians and Surgeons, and to establish a practise in East Eighteenth street. Materially I prospered from the first, but mentally I was in a turmoil of other ambitions and desires. It was my tragedy to believe that T was a born for- ester, landscape-gardener, sailor or soldier, and had elected to live in a city, like a rat in a bole, and minister to the sick. The longer I practised, the more sharply did I feel myself caught between the horns-of dilemma; I bad neither the money to tarn back and recast my lines nor the will to go ahead and land my fishes. Then, as is usual with dilemmas, fate stepped in, or, rather, cast at my door William Dane, the Arctic navigator and explorer, overcome by the June heat. Even before he bad come to his senses, I took to the man, and was engulfed by his personality. He bad a head and face and mane like the stone lion of Lucerne, im- perturbable and vast; hard, smooth,colossal limbs; a chest like a bay window,and hands at once the largest and moat beautiful that 1 bave even seen : a man formidable in thought and action. ‘‘This,’”’ said I to Miss Ma, my assistant,” ‘‘is somebody.’ ““This is who it is,"’ she said, and show. ed me on the first page of the morning paper, which I had not bad she inclination to read, two piotures—a ship and a man. While I continued to apply restoratives, Mies Ma gave me brief extracts from the article below the pictures, which was captioned : “Captain Dane morally certain to find the North Pole.” “Was going to sail today,” she said; ‘“‘put it off because doctor gave out—fil- teenth Arctic voyage—sixty years old— doesn’t look forty, does he?" “Why did the doctor give ont? I asked. “Panic,” said Miss Ma, and she went on: “Many avswers to advertisements for doctor—applicants uwvsuitable on vari- ous scores—Captain Dane says he will sail without a doctor rather than with a nar row-chested one—says that nine-tenths of good Arctie work bas been done by blonde men with gray eyes.” Here Captain Dane himself in terrupted, his transition from insensibility to alert mental equipose being nearly iustantane- ous. ‘‘Damn the beat, anyway !"’ ‘I oan’s agree with you,’’ said I, ‘‘since it bas brought me so distinguished a patient.”’ “I hope to be more so,” said he; *‘will Yoo) mea cab? I won't risk the sun n. ‘‘Please call a cab, Miss Ma." I is your fee, sir ?’”’ asked Captain e. “Five dollars,” said I, *‘but I would like to contribute that much to your voy- age. We have been reading yon up in the paper while you were coming to.”’ ‘‘I won’t prevent your contributing,’ said he, ‘‘if you want to; bus five dollars is a great deal of money. Money is a devil- ish bard thing to collect.” ‘‘By the way,” I said, ‘‘the paper says that you have advertised for a doctor.” *‘I have,” said he, ‘‘but the right one doesn’t turn up.”’ A general restlessness and dissatisfaction with lite, particularly at the advent of the hot months, impelled me to say : ‘“Would Ido?” “You are built right,’’ he said; ‘‘you have light hair and gray eyes, and I see by your diploma that you are a graduate of the P. and 8.; but you aren’s sure that you want to go.” ‘How did you know that ?"’ I asked. ‘‘Because you didn’t answer the adver- tisement.”’ “I didn’t see it.” “If you had been keen to go,”’ said he, ‘‘yon wounldn’t have missed it.”’ “Well,” said I, ‘I wasn’t keen to go, that’s the truth. But I am now.” “Why 2" said he. ‘‘You’ve made me,” I said; ‘‘you make me more so every time you speak. * I'd like to serve under youn.” “‘Dootor’s hillet,’’ said he, ‘‘is the hard- est of all. Even I can lie up if I fall sick, but the dootor can’t. I don’t even allow my dootors to die when they want to. Up there,” he said, thumbing northward, ‘“‘men godown on their knees and ask to be allowed to die. Some of them I have to let die, but never the doctor. Do you still want to go ?"’ ‘‘Yes,” I said, stoutly. “Well,” said he, ‘I'll drive around to headquatters, and if nobody better has showed up, I'll send for you.” ‘“‘Hold on,” I said, ‘I’m not so low- spirited as that. You can take me or leave We, fuel won’t dangle on any man’s wait- ng. *“That’s better,’’ said he, and his voice, hitherto very matter-of-fact, . became abundantly hearty. ‘‘You'll do.” “Take a cab,” he said, ‘‘and bustle.” “When do we sail ?"’ said I. ““The minute you're aboard.” “Where's the ship ?’ River. points toward the pole. Have you many byes, much to arrange ?*’ a month’s wages; and that's about all.” ‘“Have you no relatives—no entaogle- ments ?*’ *‘None of the first,”’ said I, ‘‘that mat ter—and none of the last, not even a pro- fessional ove.” a ened are the pure in heart,’ said leave no trail.” Three hours later we were steaming down June beat. Every flag on the river was givped yo us, and all the whistles were own. ’ From the first [| was more interested in Captain Dane than in Arctic phenomena; just as, in my prolession, I was ever more alive to the bearing of the sick than to their diseases. To which habit, more than to any skill in medicine, or determination jo qusesed, 1 wiitibute sie ease which I bad in att ng patients to my practise. But, forthermore, the North is too over- whelming and magical to be interesting : the gorgeous blazing of the sun through the ice, the aurora flaming io the heavens at night, the very shape of the bergs, run- ning to every grotesque of form and every shade of astonishing color, even the atmos- phere putting to scorn the clarity of crys. astonishing and remote to excite in a man any but his dumber faculties, whose voices are exclamations. No man is truly inter- ested except when his mental processes are engaged in avalysis—processes which the Northscape in its mildest moments defies. A time soon came when I was sick to death of those wasted glories, obdurate against the most fascinating rainbow or the most emphatic green of the sea. But Captain Dane held my keenest interest from the start. Prior to our acquaintance I had often asked mysell—or a friend for the sake of discussion—'‘Why the devil does a man want to discover the North Pole? What's the use of discovering it?’ and the like— gatstione whick, properly answered, would, thought, bring to bear a great light on many occult workings of the human mind. If Dane had any finite reasons which bound him to that grail, he would not give them frankly, or else they shifted from day to day. ‘‘It's been such an endless sacrifice of lives,”” Ieaid to him ouce, and he an- swered whimsically : ‘‘“That’s juss it.” ‘‘Let us,’’ said he, ‘‘for the sake of argu- ment, call the pole hunt a noneensical quest, to which are sacrificed many lives that might in other walks of life be vala- able. “‘Weil, it's up to some one to stop the drain.” Here be named a mighty list of explorers who had lost their lives in the Arctic. ‘Many of them,’’ he said, ‘‘were strong and talented men, devoted thinkers, and hrave beyond compare. Until the pole is fonod there will contiune to be lost to civilization a constant trickling of the most elect citizens. Wouldn't it be service enough to put a stop to such a waste as that —na waste that humanity can not afford and ought not to endare ?"’ *‘It wou!d certainly tarn the course of the adventaroas south,’’ said I. ‘Iv would," said he, ‘‘toward the other le. When that, too, has heen discover- ed there will be an end of the nonsense.’ ‘You don’t think it nonsense ?’’ said I. ‘*As an act, yes,’’ he said; ‘‘as an ac- complishment, no. The man who sets his country’s flag on the pole will save, or rather divert into more usefal channels, many splendid lives that come after his.” But on other occasions his argnments were all at variance with this. **Is it for the glory of finding it,” I ask- ed him, ‘‘or for the glory of being known to have found it?" ‘I shall be content to find it,’ he said, ‘and to die then and there. You can carry out the proofs, and reap the honors.” “But.” «aid I, ‘‘dead or not, your name would go down to the remotess posterit in big type. Doesn’t that thought influ. ence you ?"’ “I think not,’’ he aid, ‘bat I will think it over.” The log-book of The Needle gives all the longitudes and latitudes, and scientific ob- servations and data, of our voyage. These things are not important to my narative. Suffice thas we passed the winter, the cold- est, bleakest, blackest winter, farther north than it had ever been passed before and in the spring made oor dash for the pole. The winter brought out great quali- ties in Dane—an overmastering bumor and goed humor, a great gentleness to those who were impatient and sick, an almost godlike tenderness over those that died. He was like a greas statue in the making, whén each blow of the scalptor’s hammer, instead of damaging the marble, brings out vew strengths and beauties. Even at that time, before our bardships bad fairly begun, we looked on our Captain as on one who had brought us out rather than on one who was leading us in. The day for starting came, and Dace spoke to those who wete to go and those who were to stay. ‘‘Men,’’ he said, *‘it is as hard to stay as to go. Therefore I have divided you equal- ly, as boys choose sides for a game. It is important that brave, patient men go with me, and it is important that brave, patient men remain. I wish I could take only those that want to go and leave only those that want to stay. But you all waut to go. So I have bad to pick aod choose for myself. I shall think of those that stay as of a rock that will wait for me to come. That's the important thing, to find you waiting when we come back. You must not Jes yourselves get sick; and you must not let yourselves think too much about home; and you mustn't quarrel when you begin to think there is nothing else to do. When you have waited for us as long as you can, then wait a little longer, and then go. God bless yon all.” No one of us that went ever again saw laughter and shaking of bands. As long as things went well, strength held, food tasted sweet, our dash for the pole bad in it something of a holiday lark. The dogs, strong, savage, and eager, strained at the sledges, the men lent their backs to the passage of places with deep-sea unison. Our supplies were calen- lated to a nicety, and we knew it. - We be- lieved that the plateau (it was neither ice nor snow, but a mixture of the two,at onoe firm and stumbling like sand) over which we were pressing held all the way to the pole. And at each resting place, when progress would be calculated, we marveled we e. ont over the plains ag some grotesque turn in aj circus—a quan- Then he made me sit down and write a long list of things to get and where to get them “Off Thirty-third street in the North I call her The Needle because she - , | “No,” said I, ‘I'll turn my practise over to the doctor across the ball, give Miss Ma n Dane, ‘‘for they bave strong bodies the North River through the blistering tals and the sparkle cf diamonds, are too those that stayed. We parted forever, with and rejoiced to know how far and how fast white order, we looked he tity of bears walking on their bind’ ving exactly like men, and driving trains of dogs. It was Dane's scheme that each man should bave his taro in leading the procession ; thus one day bringing re- spoosibility to ove man, the next to anoth- er. Great rivalry rose among us as to who should bave the credis of leading the long- est march. As we neared the pole, excite- ment and jubilation rose among us. We bad bat fifty miles to go; there bad not yes heen any serious hitch. The far north bad shown us whatever favors it had to show. We vied in bealth with our dogs. And then—whether it came from Billy Smith's furs, bought during the winter from an Eskimo, or where it came from, I do not know-——there leapt among us a germ of smallpox. Ionly know shat the disease broke out with awful savageness, that we went into t camp at the very gates of the pole, and hegan to die. Billy Smith was the first to go. Captain Dave knelt beside him for seven hours, exhorting him to stay and do bis duty. But the flesh was weak with the sickness, and weepingly suf- fered the spirit to depart. Captain Dane's face was furrowed with ice where the tears bad run down. I Captain Dane looked me steadily in the eyes across a new-made grave ‘‘Where are my brave, patient men ?’ said he. ““Thev have gone,” I said, bitterly, ‘all gone. Bat God koows I tried to save them.” ‘‘At work they were lions,” raid he, ‘‘in obedience, lambs. Not one of them carsed me. Think of that, all you who deride the splendor of the human soul. They came to the gates of the pole, like sheep to the slanghter. I brought them. They said I was their father, and they came with me —Americans, Englishmen, Germans—they all came with me; and they died without cursing—all the nations.” It was horrible to hear the man rave on, his eyes bright with fever, his face set like a stone. ‘Youn must lie down, Captain, and rest,”’ I said. ‘Will the fever go out of me if I liedown and rest?’ said be. ‘“My God, no! Do you think thas with my mortal sickness on me, and the pole just over there, that I'm going to liedown and rest? I watched them all die. When they were taken sick I made them lie down. But there wasn’t one of them but would have marched and fought one day more il I'd told him to. When I lie down to rest, the pole shall be under me.” I pleaded with him to lie down, to hus- band his strength, to fight with the fever. I swore to him that I would bring him through. He langhed in my face. And what could I do? He was stronger than five of me, and mad, to boot. ‘‘Go back to The Needle,” he said, and tell them that I went forward alone, and discovered thepole. Will you go back, or won’s you ?"’ I do not wish to make myself out a hero. If wishing conld have taken me back to The Needle, or thousands of miles beyond, back I would have gone. But to make that long journey along, to drive dogs, in which I bad no skill, or even to find the way, I knew to be impossible. For me there was nothing but death—death to go back, death to stay. I preferred, not cheer- fully, bat still decidedly, and all things considered, to take my guietus in the im- mediate vicinity of the pole. “‘I won't go back,’’ I said. ‘Let's find this—— —— pole, and have done with it.” ‘‘Man talk that,”’ said Captain Dane. “It’s this way, Johnny, if we give in here, these men’s lives will bave been wantonly sacrificed. But if we can reach the pole, and die there, then they won't have died in vain.” “Who's to know ?'’ said I. ‘“The cold,’’ said he, ‘‘will preserve our bodies immaculately. Some day they will be found at the pole, with the record of our journey, and our names,and the names of those who died for wus. Let's along, boy.” Then began a horrible nightmare that lasted seven days. in Dane, all broken ont with the smallpox, and deliri- ous with fever, trudged over the plain, inaghivg shouting, moaning. Wild words poured frof his deluded brain,auld yes the idea that he must and would go forward, y | and his senses for direction and finding the line, by ohservations or calculating and the deviation of the needle from the true pole to the magnetic, never once forsook him. I think that all that was mortal of him died before we reached the end of our journey, sul was dragged forward by his immortal goal. We struck at length into a region that bore marks of terrific winds, For in many places the black bed-rock was baked and bare of ice or snow. As we progressed, the expanses of smooth, naked rock prevailed more and more in the scrape, until, on the morning of the eighth day, all traces of ice and snow vanished. Here I first began to be sensible of a difficulty, not altogether the result of fatigned muscles, in lifting my fees, which increased from hour to hour. Each of us carried a compass, and I noticed that the needle in mine was beginning to act in a queer, uncertain manver—like a hound that finds a trail, steadies to it a mo- ment, and then loses it. Obviously, we were aboat to arrive. If I took any mental interest in the fact, it was a feeling of dis- appointment. Some point ahead of that black rocky plain over which we were plodding, with feet that seemed to stick like plasters to the rock, was the great goal of explorers. There was nothing to mark it. It might be on a rise or in a depression. Measurements alone could mark it for us. There would be nothing to give one single moment of antemortem excitement to the eye. I was wrong. . We climbed painfelly up a little Hage of rock, perhaps a dozen feet high. On the juether slope lay seven corpses wrapped in ar. ‘‘Here we are, Johnny,” said Captain Dane suddenly. There was a complete sanity in his voice. And he fell to exam- ining the corpses. As for me, I simply sat down and watched him. I was terribly tired, and did not want to die. “*My God !"’ cried tbe Captain, ‘‘here’s an old-timer. Hedrew a slip of sheepskin from the dead man’s glove. “I don’t make out the name,’ he went on; ‘‘but there's a date—August 9th, 1798. This man dis- covered the pole, Johnny; take off your hat. And the others came after. Where's the last—here’s the last—'98—1808, That was the year Jamie graduated. I belong next.to him. Here ,1 Captain Dane laid himself down by the side of that last comer with a sigh, like that of a tired little child fiatitred into its mother’s arms, aud when I got to him he wae dead. 5 ~ Ibad, I think, ng feeling of sorrow, or loneliness; I felt neither thirst nor hunger. I sat suddenly among the discoverers, and nodded my head. Is nooded of its own ac- vd, like the heads of those Chinese toys buy on Twenty third Street. Then a shadow covered me, and it stopped nod- Twenty feet above and slowly descend- ing was a balloon; over the edge of the car peered a face, a tiny, brown, man-monkey sort of face. A little fur paw shot up to he gee, salute fashion, and a shrill voice The balloon came to earth, and a little | al Frenchman out (forall his great bundle of furs he actually hopped.) “Is your party all asleep?’ said be (this time io French-Eoglish). “No,” said I, ‘‘all these are dead. They are men who bave discovered the pole at different times, and died, aod with each the news of his discovery. I was this —_— doctor—Captain Dane. He died A horrible fear seized me that if I said smallpox the Frenchman would desers me. But be uncovered the Captaio’s lace and saw for himesell. “Smallpox,” said be. ‘That is ghastly — what?" He hopped into the car of his balloon and hopped ous with a kodak between his for paws. He focused the thing on the dead man, made readv to press the hutton, and suddenly desisted. “Nos nice,’ hesaid, ‘‘to kodak those brave, dead fellows. Well, it isall very disappointing. Les us be off.” “You will take me?’ I said. “My God! of courses,” said he. The little man bowed gravely and stood aside with many polite gestures while I climbed painfully into the car. He follow- ed me with a single bop—like a flea. ‘All my ingennity go for nothing,’ said he; “all the culd and wind I have swal- lowed go for nothing. We come too late, the balloon and I. . . .” . He turned a tiny lever, the balloon began to tog at its braces, and presently to rise. ‘‘Higher up,’’ said the little Frenchman ‘‘is more wind. Once up there we shall leave in a great barry. + + . Farewell the dead heroes, . . I heard nomore. When I came to, we had lefs the pole a thousand miles behind and were sendding southward.—By Goav- erneur Morris, in the Collier's. " Consmmption Carable. Consumption is familiar to everyone. The doctors call it ‘““Taberculosis of the lungs.” The disease is widespread, but chiefly found in centres of population—in the cities. In Greater New York there are to-day nearly 40,000 cases, mainly persons between the ages of fifteen and forty-five, the period of greatest activity and useful- ness. In fact, of all men dying between these ages, nearly one-third die of tnberca- losis. Formerly it was thought that the disease was hereditary, ‘‘in the blood,’’ as the say- ing goes. It was believed that any cluld of a consumptive father or mother was al- most sure to develop tuberculosis of the lunges in later life. ‘That is not so. Such a child may start out with a poor stock of vitality and with a lessened amount of resistance, bit never with seeds of disease in the syetem. Brought ap under favora- ble conditions and with proper oversight, a child born of consumptive parents may pass through life in the enjoyment of fair- ly good health. In fact, the old-time mystery about con- sumption bas been swept away. We now know shree ihings: First, the disease is communicable—that is to say, it is preventable to a large extent by. the exercise of reasonable care and the observ- ance of a few simple precautions; and third, is is curable in the majority of cases, if treated in time—completely and lastingly curable. The only direct cause of cousamption is the entrance and growth in the lungs of a certain microscopic organism (or germ or microbe, to use familiar names) called the bacillus tuberculosis. When this germ is present in the lungs in sufficient numbers, it produces emaller or larger disease cen- tres, which centers of disease increase in extent and finally cause much destruction of the substance of the lung. From the lungs of a consumptive large numbers of these germs may be coughed up and pit ons. Ordinarily the majority of them perish, especially if they are exposed to fresh air and sunshine. But it is possible for some to enter immediately the lungs of other people and produce centres of disease; or a pars of the germs may lie around in damp places, or be blown about in reom dust, for days and even for weeks. Indeed, this is the way in which consumption is apread ; both adults and children acquire it by breathing in tne dried matter from the lungs of those who already bave the dis- ease. The conditions nnder which some people live render them more liable to consump- tion. Dust and dirt and darkpess and dampness, as found in many tenements, old dwellings and farm houses; insufficient food, food of poor quality and badly cook- ed; negleot of personal oleanliness—all these are contributing factors. The sur- roundings in which many adults and chil- dren are compelled to work—as in some shops and stores, in cellars, in tenement rooms and sweat sh re prejudicial to health. Dusty work, like coal-mining, sorting feathers and cigar-making; occapa- tions in which the worker bends forward and compresses the chest, as in typesetting and shoe-cobbling; work that puts a strain upon the lungs, like glass blowing; all these predis to the disease by taking away from the body a part of its natural powers of resistance. tco, does the custom of keeping windows closed and of overheating the rooms iv which we live and work. Children are often consumptive. The little children take the disease rapidly be- cause they play on the floor and on the ground in the dust; they raise a dust; they inbale the germ-laden dust, and they put their dirty fingers in their mouths. Parents and others who are consumptive fondle and kiss the little ones; this, too, is a source of ril. Il a child is noticed to become easi- y tired, to have pale cheeks and eyes un- natarally bright, to coughand grow thin, take warning! Go and seea doctor. Begin treatment early with children, for the dis- ease in them is twice as carable as it is in older le. It is a well-known fact that some per- sons, and especially the members of some families, are particularly liable to tauber- culosis. So marked and so frequent®is the development of the disease in certain fami- lies that the affection has long been con- sidered hereditary. We now know that the disease itself is not hereditary but there is inherited certain constitutional weak- nesses which render the individual a more easy prey to the germs once they have gain- ed an entrance. Where the pareats are affected with tu- beroulosis, the children, from the earliest moments of life, are ¢ uuder the most favorable conditions for its transmission; for not only is the dust of the house liable to contain the bacilli, but the relation between parents and children, especially between mother and child, are to the disease | path ding. I to my feet, wildly alerts, | of that close and intimate nature especially and looked upward. favorable for transmission by direct con- sacs. The [requent occurrence of several cases of cosumption in a family is, shen, vot to be ex; on the supposition that the disease iteelf bas been inberited, but, that it bas been produced after birth by trans- mission direct from some other individa- It follows, from what bas been said, that tubercalosis is a communicable disea«e,and is therefore preventable. If is is prevent- able, the natural question to ask is, why is it not prevented? It is pot prevented because of the indiffer- ence of the public. Is is difficult to root ous old ideas, and it is still more difficult to get a people to adopt precautions against an evil, which, although so fatal is its ulti- mate results, does not strike she public mind with she startling saddenpess effect. ed by she appearance of cholera, small-pox or diphtheria. If our fashionable dames, heads of families, institutions and ind nstri- al concerns together with the poor con- samptive, would all do their duty to their neighbors, the spectre of tuberculosis would gradually disappear, and with it much suffering and misery. To sum up, then, we find the Tollowing as accepted laots: 1. Consumption is caused only by a germ, which comes from those affected with consumption. 2. Consumption i* preventable, because, for practical purposes, the great source of infection—expectoration — can be easily disinfected or destroyed. Remove sputum as a source of infection, aud consumption must go far towards disappearing. 3. Consumption is not hereditary, nor is it easily contracted if reasonable care be taken. 4. The careless consumptive patient is a focus of infection and a danger to all per- sons who come much in proximity to him or visis the places be frequents. Anything tending to lower the tone of the general health may act as a predispos- ing cause—insafficient night ventilation as is practicable. The dwelling place should be dry naturally or made so artificially. If it is thought that there is a family predis- position to consumption, an outdoor occu- pation should he chosen. Live in the open air and sunshine as much as possible. Every new case of tuberculosis comes from some earlier case. The germs of this disease retain their vitality and their in- fectivity a long time under favorable con- ditions. Therefore, do not bring into your house clothing formerly used by consump- tives unless it has been thoroughly disin- fected, do not allow your wives and daugh- ters to risk infecting their homes with dresses that bave swept the sidewalks. Do not move intoan infected house or rooms until thoroughness of the disinfec- tion is unquestionable; do not put to your lips or mouth pipes, wind instraments, money, or anything else that has Leen used or handled by consumptives; do not buy bread, milk or other articles of food not to be cooked from consumptives. Kissing, particularly from lip to lip, is unsafe, if one of the persons ie tuberculouns.—By Paul Kennady, secretary of the committee on the Prevention of Tuberculosis of New York. Archimedes said, “Give me a folerum for my lever and Iwill move the world.” Nature, like Archimedes, demandsa ful- crum for ber lever. She will lift the sick up to health, move mountains of disease, but she must have a tulorum for the lever to help. That fuleruin is just what is sup- plied in Dr. Pierce's Golden Medical Dis- covery. No medicine can help the sick which does not work with Nature. That medicine is most helpful which most read- ily lends itself to Nature's use. Golden Medical Discovery worke with Nature, by removing the obstructions from her way, by “‘making her paths straight, and enabling her to work her healing without let or hin- drance. : Lemont, Friday of last week brought us the sapling bender so we can now look for warmer weather and the farmers can prepare their soil and put the seed in the ground. The cherries appear to be frozen, likewise the peaches, but so far the plums and apples are not injured much, if any. The wheat has been hurt by the snows and cold and looks yellow. The farmers think the crop will be much less than was antici- pated. Last Saturday morning was the coldest for several weeks, the ground was frozen bard and quite a bit of ice was in evidence. In place of opening a select school in town, Mr. Nol! went to Bellefonte to finish a term, owing to the illness of the teacher of the grammar school there. Last Wednesday the Pennsylvania R. R. Co., put up a small derrick at the Lemont station, something that has been needed this long time. The stork brought a beautiful little babe, Tuesday, to brighten the home of Mr, and Mrs. Elmer Louder. Maude Grove and Earl Houtz helped H. 1. Brian move to Spring Mills. Many of the young people were drawn to beautiful peaks and dales of old Nittany mountain in quest of the fragrant trailing arbutus, Sunday afternoon, and to enjoy the refreshing breezes which can be enjoyed more on the mountain side than anywhere else. The presiding elder will preach in the United Evangelical church Sunday fore- noon, May 5th, at which time there will be communion services. George Williams and James Williams and wife Sundayed at the home of Grant Houser. Bruce Mitchell, of Horton, W. Va, is visiting among friends in these parts, Prof. George Bible, of Philadelphia, was seen on our streets Monday afternoon, William Thompson, one of State College's postoffice employees, took his little daughter to Philadelphia this week to have her eyes treated, Cornelius D. Houtz transacted business at the county seat Wednesday. ; F. Roan, the right hand man in John L. Mitchell’s hardware store, moved Wednesday to Mrs. Cornelius Dale's house east of town. ——— A $25,000.00 Gift. In je Dash yen: it has cost Dr. Pierce over $25,000.00 (exclusive ul postage) lo ve away copies of his great work. e e's Common Sense Medical Adviser. This book containing 1008 pages and over 700 illustrations should be in every family. It answers the unspoken questions of young men and women. It points the to healthy, bappy life. It is sent free on receipt of stamps to defray expense of mailing only. Send 21 one-cent stam binding, or 31 stamps in ress Doctor R. V. Plerce, Buf- falo, N.Y. & r THE APPLE BARREL. It stocd in the cellar low and dim, Where the cob-webs swept and swayed, Holding the store from bough and limb At the feet of autumn laid. And oft when the days were short and drear And the north wind shrieked and roared, We young folks sought in the corner, here * And drew on the toothsome hoard. For thus, through the long, long winter-time, It answered our every call, With wine of the summer's golden prime Sealed by the Land ofall. The best there was of the earth and air, Of air and sun and breeze Changed toa pipin sweet and rare By the art of the faithful trees. A wonderful barrel was this, had we Its message but rightly heard, Filled with the tales of wind and bee, Of ericket and moth and bird; Rife with the bliss of the fragrant June When skies were softand blue; Thronged with the dreams of a harvest moon O'er tields drenched deep with dew. ~[Egwix L. Samx. Pine Grove Mention, Soap making and house cleaning is on. Cyrus Snook, of Milroy, was here last week looking after his earthly possessions. Harry Evey and wife, of Warriorsmark, and Mrs. Geerge Musser, of Bellwood, Sun- dayed at Samuel Wilson's home. : George Fisher sold his 2.40 nag to Peter Corl on Monday. . James I. Thompson, of York, was here last week hustling around for his share of the insurance business. Craig Hunter is confined to the house with a dose of ivy poison and rheumatism. Our hustling furniture man, J. B. Heber- ling, transacted business in Philipsburg yes- terday. Budd Benner is off duty nursing his left thumb, which be split with the axe on Mon- day. James I. Potter, of Bellefonte. was ona hustle among the merchants here on Tues- day. : J. G. Hebherling left Wednesday for a week’s visit among friends at Mill Hall and will be in line in the Odd Fellows parade at Lock Haven today. James I. Ross is having his brick mansion roofed with galvanized tin. Merchant A. G. Archey and wife were at the county capital Monday. After a ten days visit among relatives at Alexandria Miss Nannie Bailey returned home Tuesday, delighted with her trip. Miss Amelia Hurst, of McAlevy’s Fort, was a visitor among her many friends in town last week. After April 30th the postoffice at Guyer will be discontinued. The patrons will be served by a new R. F. D. route from War. riorsmark. Dr. L. C. Thomas, of Latrobe, who has been quite ill with diabetes the past six months and was in Philadelphia undergoing treatment, is much improved and is here visiting his sister, Mrs, Maggie Gates. Edward Harpster, of this place, was taken to the German hospital, Philadelphia, on Monday, and on Wednesday was opérnted on for appendicitis. The dance given by the young ladies of the town, in 1.0. O. F. ball, last Friday evening, was a most successful social wuffuir, the one drawback being that some miscreants ‘climbed in a rear window and stole all the ice cream that bad been prepared as refresh- ments. Last Saturday evening D. D. G. M. Ever- bart, of Bellefonte, assisted by M. L. Alten- derfer, D. D. G. P., very satisfactorily in- stalled the officers of Pennsvalley Lodge, No. 276, I. O. O. F., of this place, for the ensuing term, as follows : N.G., Wm. G. Gardner; V. G., Sumner Miller: Chap., Dr. R. M. Krebs; conductor, John H. Bailey; warden, Wm. H. Fry; Ast. Secy., Ellery Parsons; R.S. to N.G, H. A. Elder; L. 8. to N. G., E. E. Musser; R. 8. to V. G., W. H. Goss; L. 8. to V. G., IL O. Campbell; R. 8. 8., Geo. Rossman; L. 8. 8., Dent Peterson; 0. G., J. E. Reish; 1. G., A. J. Tate; trustee, W. H. Fry; Rep. to G. L., J. A. Fortney; alternate, Dr. R. M. Krebs. Resolutions of Respect. Inasmuch as it has pleased Almighty God in His all wise providence to take from our midst our brother and fellow co-laborer, Michael Corman ; and, Wares, He was for so many years been a faithful and helpful member of the Reformed church at Zion, an Elder in the same con- gregation and a member of our joint con- sistory. We, the joint consistory of the Bellefonte charge in annual session, this nineteenth day of April, 1907, desiring to make a suitable record of our mutual loss, do hereby adopt the following resolutions. Resolved, That in the death of our broth- er, Elder Michael Corman, the Reformed church has lost one of its faithful members and the official board of the church oge of its most active and aggressive counselors. Resolved, That we most tenderly extend our sympathy to the members of the bereav- ed household and commend them to the love and care of our Heavenly Father. Resolved, That this action be spread upon the minutes of the joint consistory ; be pub- lished in the Bellefonte papers and a copy of these resolutions be presented to the widow of our deceased brother. Axuerose M. ScaMipT, A. LUKENBACH, B. A. NoLL. A Water Curve at Home. Slowly the doctors are coming round to concede, grudgingly, that the drinking of water that be welt or Janb DemaBsial, or bly doesn’t do any —any t Jeon Water, the drinking of yon drinking of large quantities of water, has been part of the instinctive hygienic regime of the entire animal kingdom from the be- ginning. We owe it to the medical profes. sion that this e, as natural as breath- ing, has been all but abolished in civiliza- tion. And now, more intelligent than formerly though they are, the doctors asa rule still wpe Wales, Sxteby for occasional ‘‘oures’’—whose chief value, by the , ie simply that one does take in a able body inside and out. truth is that every one should, morning, a safe hour before eating, dri Sowa, a large quantiy o Dain sidigary water, at an agreeable are. internal bath, and you will not bave to consult your family physician so often. ere part of the fluid that can wash the
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