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