Bemorraic ace Bellefonte, Pa., May i5, 1908. THE PASSING OF THE FOREST. As long as the forest shall live, The streams shall flow onward, still singing Sweet songs of the woodland, and bringing The bright living waters that give New life toall mortals who thirst, But the races of men shall be cursed. Yea, the hour of destruction shall come To the children of men in that day When the forest shall pass away ; When the low woodland voices are dumb ; And death's devastation and dearth Shall be spread o'er the face of the earth, Avenging the death of the wood, The turbulent streams shall outpour Their vials of wrath, and no more Shall their banks hold back the high flood, Which shall rush o'er the harvests of men ; As swiftly receding again. Lo! after the flood shall be dearth, And the rain no longer shall fall On the parching fields ; and a pall, As of ashes, shall cover the earth ; And dust-clouds shall darken the sky ; And the deep water wells shall be dry. And the rivers shall sink in the ground, And every man cover his mouth From the thickening dust, in that droath ; Fierce famine shall come ; and no sound Shall be borne on the desolate air But a murmur of death and despair. —Alexander Blair Thaw, in the Century, THE CUP THAT RAN OVER. The Belknay ladies lived in the smallest ~house in the village. The iocome, on which they somehow contrive to support an existence within the pale of gentility, was correspandingly tiny. A etruggling garden did ite bess to supply a fitful pro getasion of small vegetables, and some aged ens recalled memories of an industrious youth by the production of occasional eggs. As for rent, the sisters had paid none for twenty years—since Doctor Raynor bad taken up their inherited mortgage to pro- teot his own place and had givgo them the Jr use of she house where they had been I doubt if either of them quite under: stood this transaction, for one day Mies Atalanta—and she alwags assumed the privileges and responsibilities of the man of the family, on account of her ‘‘excellent head’? for business—aroused to exaspera- tion point by the conduct of the Raynor boys, had intercepted their small sister on ber way back from sohool. She leaned over the sagging gate and pointed a threat ening finger at the little girl. . “Susie,” said she, ‘‘you go right home and tell your grandpa that if Willy aud Tommy don’s stop throwing stones at our clothes-line we’ll—move!” Doctor Raynor luckily had a sense of humor, and treated the matter seriously. His note in reply, promising to restrain the maranders and hoping that the dread contingency might not arise, gave his neighbors much satisfaction. “Never beg from a man,’ counseled Miss Atalanta defiantly, when she had read it alond to Mies Serena, ‘‘but meet him on equal grounds and threaten. Doctor Ray- nor was frightened by wy message, von see, and well he might be,” she concluded comfortably, for I should have kept my word!" Miss Serena, sewing by the kitchen win- dow after their early supper, rewarded her with admiring apprehension. She wasa timorous little creature, predestined to domestic subservience, She had a passion for agreement, and she lived in a sort of affectionate fear of her sister ; such an emo- tion a dove might fee! under the proteoting wing of an intrinsically dangerous but personally agreeable vulture. “Yon are right, sister,”’ she assented. ‘‘quite right. Father always said tbat yon bad a very clear mind.” Miss Atalanta, emboldened hy the recol- lection of his paternal appreciation, made a [:esh attack on her subjeot. “It isn’t those that bave had wen in their family that know them hess,’”’ she went on, a= she drew a rocking chair near- er the stove, for the late afternoon was chill, ‘“but women like me who haven't bad them olose enongh so distract, bot have looked on them fiom a distance and seen them as they are. They have their uses,”’ she interpolated with a sort of relnotant maguanimity. ** "Twounldn’t he suitable for me to deny thas with father's memory before me; hut the way they've ridden over us women from heathen times down to this day of grace just riles me. It's our fault, too—the woman's fault, 1 mean —for not standing up to them. Thank goodness, I'vestood up. No man cau ever say I was his slave!” Miss Serena's gaze sharpened at the word and hung, fascinated. on her sister as thoagh half-disappointed not to find the corroborative evidence of a broken manaocle or two. “No, indeed, I should say not!"’ piped she. “I've dealt with them all in a down- right way,” the other went on, ‘“‘and look at what I've saved just this family fiom, first and last! To begin with, Grandpa Baloom. If I badn’s given him a talking to and just kept at him wouldn’t he have married that second wife of his long before he did and left, as like as not, a whole parcel of children to inherit the woodland away from fathei?”’ “Yes, indeed, Atalanta, bus he did leave a widow and she got the biggest hall.” Mies Serena couldn’t see the truth float by without a cluteh at it. ““That is not my fault,” retorted her sister. “There were no children, anyway, aod if he'd married earlier there’d been more obance,’’ she added grimly, with the look of a New England Herod in her eyes. “That Mr. Peakes from out West that wanted father should invest in the gold mine—who talked to him? ‘Have you put anything in it yourself?’ said I. ‘Not ex- actly,’ said he. ‘Because I baven’t got the money!’ said be. That showed him up for what he was and the whole too!" “But father didn’t bave any money, either!” ventured Miss Serena in the in- terest of fact. “How foolish talk! If he had he'd ‘a’ put it in. He was that fascinated!” Miss Atalanta retorted with emphasis as she went on. “And the minister from Barre whom we'd about made up our ninds to call to 3 our Lo t—whe found out about his hav- ing doubts ca spiritual I'd like to know! ‘Do you believe that Jonah abode forty days in the whale’s belly?’ I asked him once suddenlike, when he was off his His answer didn’ ne, He s laken literal. ‘It had literary value,’ he said. I lefs the room, I tell you, then and there. I was disgusted, bus I didn’t keep silent! This quibbling with words—‘liter- al’ and ‘literary’—I don’t stand for. Did be get the call? No!” *“You are quite right, sister, but he'd " | had that call vo Suffield firsf, you remem- ber.” “That don’t make one mite of difference, Serena,” Miss Atalanta interrupted. “If I hadn't shown him up he wouldn't bave had it!” As this intricate arraignment of man’s nnworthines« narrowed to individuals, the gentle stitcher by the window grew uneasy. She “trove in vain tn change the subject. A feather mighs as well have tried to stay the course of a mountain brook. “It’s a new moon te-night, isn’s is, sis. ter?’ she inquired alluringly. “1 don’s know,.and I ain't talking about moons.” The feather floated down the stream. ‘I was speaking of men, and what I done to save my family from them. Why, Serena Belknap, you ought not to talk! Yoo'd ought to godown on your bended knees and thank me everv day of your life for what I did for you—1"" The expected bad happened. Misa Serena paled. Habit and inclination clash- ed, and each ounded in her answer. “Yes, indeed, sister, I know vou acted for the best, hat—please don't—!"" Miss Atalanta gave no heed. ‘‘Heaven knows where you'd have heen today,” ‘she went on, “if I bhadn’t been guided to your aid—filling the grave of a dronkard’s wife, most likely. I oan see Stephen Waterbury as he stood hefore me. ‘Have you signed the pledge?’ said I ‘No,’ «aid he. ‘Will youn promise me now never to touch liquor again?’ ‘No,’ said be. “Then you sba’n’t have my sister,” says I. “That lies with her,” says he. I must say he was ou of the moss obstinate men I ever knew. [faced bim then and I says to him very solemnly: ‘This is a temperance amily, Stephen Waterbury, root and branch. Our principles form oar characters; we have all heen honored in the great work. Father is Grand Templar of the Lodge, mother is Vice-Regens of the Cold Water Grange, I am the Assistant Treas- urer of the Well-spring, aud Serena her- self is Scribe of the Daughters of Comfort. She’s hound by her oath, too. The lips of no man who has tasted liquor can ever touch hers.’ He laughed and turned on his heel,Berena—yes. laughed! 1 shall never forget is. But I saw yon first and my words moved you. You sent him away and your soul was saved.” She looked up suddenly on a olosing door. Serena had leit the room. Outside in the September twilight hung a pale oresornt moon, and the meadows, near the river, rang with crickets, as Miss Serena's little, hent figure spread across the garden. It was no real emotion that ber sister's tirade had awakened, just the ghost of one that sometimes flattered down the long path of years. Already the impression had waned in the delicions physical effect of the cool air and the exhiliarating sense of personal freedom which brought with it an impulse of dar- ing as strong as it was npaccustomed. Her situation took on the dignity of opportuni. ty, a score of treasured day-dreams seemed clamoring for accomplishment; she hesi- tated at the magnitude of she choice. Should ehe go to the dootor’s and talk with Mrs. Raynor on those intimate topics which her sister's inevitable presence al- ways forbade? Shonld she wander alone on the river-hauk, as she had nes done for vears, free for the once from Atalanta’s disapproval of it as a “damp place?’ Or should she slip acrose to the railway-station and watoh the evening express dart by, from one unknown land to another, like a fiery arrow ? She dismissed the first plan as tame, the second, trath to tell, seemed a bit {eariome even to ber unfettered fancy, and the lass, she desided, was« too conspicnons hecanse of the presence at the station of most of the idle wale population of the viliage. In- eed, they all lacked the appeal of she on- usual. But, as Miss Serena stopped, with her hand on the gate, a new dea discovered it- velf—so suddenly, so overwhelmingly that, heretical as it wae, she yielded to is charm withont hesitation. Yes, this was he opportunity to call on Mrs. Luella ull. This lady of lingual name was a new- comer in Mayfield, unknown, unheralded and rather unwelcome. She accompanied the fortunes of a rongh lovkiug son, Luoci- us, who had opened a livery-stable in she village, a calling held to he in itself of a rather inelegaut nature. Lucius consorted wholly with horses, but his mother bad made many futile attempts to be friendly with her neighbors. She was a ‘‘pleasant- seeming woman,” people said, but her manuers were $00 easy, measured by May- field standards, and too lacking in that dig- nity which is content to wait and be sought, She bad stopped at the Belknaps' house —the two sisters mounting guard on either vide of the front door—adwmired their dahlias, and asked them to call. Atalanta ignored the invitation, but, secretly, Sere- na was pleased. She envied the stranger's ease and cordiality. She would like to go to see her! The idea had slumbered for days, and now awoke suddenly, as a sort of roundabout protest to Atalanta’s treatment of her. Poor Miss Serena's mental pro- cesses were not exaotly logical, you see! She rearranged into decent tolde the “‘rigolette’’ which she bad thrown hurried ly over her gray curls as she ran, and a few minutes later tapped daintily on Mrs. Lull’s side door. “Come right in!" called a loud and pleasant voice from bebind it. Miss Serena’s eyes sank in shame before the cluttered condition of that kitchen ! They had never viewed such disorder—in the evening, too! On tables and chairs— even on an ironing-board in the corner— stood every pot, pan, kettle and vessel that the house could muster. Into one of them Mrs. Lull was soraleg a foaming amber fluid trom a big cracked pitcher. She was stout, red-ocheeked and black- eyed, with a mouth that opened widely back over a dazzling set of store-teeth. dress was pinned somewhat high about her hips, and she wore a pair of loose carpet | git slippers. She put down the pitcher and i Jw at Tides ed eaw her visitor. us said like as not I'd get caugh so late. Take that ME the tureen. Well, I don’t wonder you're mystified,” she the answered unspoken qhestion “You see, I'm Qoing 8 listle oi- er-making on my own acooun Mies Serena murmured ‘‘Ah, indeed I’ in that tone of polite indifference consid- ered so ladylike in Mayfield’s best circles, ae she removed ber head-covering quickly to avoid Mrs. Lull’e damp advanoee. “Yes, I tell ’em shat I ain’t nothing more than an , you know, bu there was considerable many apples laying round just rottin’ under the trees and the idea come to me to try my band. Lucius he rigged me up a kind of a press and here Ibe! You eee I didn’t caloulate on mak- ing such a lot, and there ain’t near enough things to hold is. I declare I'm most flooded with apple-juice !" Meanwhile, she busied herself with her labors. ‘We can visit just as well while T work,’ she suggested. ‘'I sha’n’t make no company of you.” She talked continually, Now ber voice rang near and distines as she hovered over ber guest, now it came dim and muffled from behind the buastery-door or echoed faintly from the remoteness of the wood- shed. The theme she had selected was her healsh, which seemed, somehow, to belie her appearance. To Serena, balanced on an abnormally high chair and vainly trying to touch the ic fragments were at once troublesome and fascinating. Whenever her hostess flew into temporary view. she interpolated gent- ly her own well-bred phrases, “Sorelv, Mrs. Lull,” ‘It is quite as yon sav, or “Yes, indeed, I agree with yon.” Underneath she was thinking rather un- comfortably : ‘“This is a strange woman ! 1 suppose I ought to go back, hut somehow she is so different thas I like her !”’ An involuntary motion on the part of the guest to prevent herself from slipping to the floor seemed to call Mrs. Lull’s at- tention to an omission of hospitality which she proceeded to sapply. “Hear me ran on, Miss Belknap ! ain't asked you to have a taste! Cider's mighty ~—some like it fresh and some like it sharp: bus it’s always beartening. Let me find you a glass. You don’t care for any? Oh, yon’d better; "twon’t hurt you a mite. What d’yon say ? Inloxical: ing? Well, I've got to laugh! Not a bit of it—honest—why it's only juice just like as you find it around an—apple-pie 1" At the mention of this innocent dainty Miss Serena's fluttering conscience lulled to sleep every soruple. “Well, I don’t care if I do, since you are so kind. Just a little, please.’ Mrs. Lull, after a vague survey of the scene, had disappeared into the bedroom beyond. She emerged with a glass in ber hand. *‘I knowed I had a tnmbler just a min- ute before you came, bus I couldn’s think where I'd set it. This ain't is, bat "twill do just as well. It beats all how things get out of the way when you want em.” She grasped the tureen firmly and poured from it, lavishly, into a glass. The amber lignid bubbled pleasantly to the brim. Alas | she did nos notice that it met a li- quid already there of a similar color, in- deed, but of a nature totally at variance, It wae a habit of Lucius Lull’s to open the day with a libation, On this particn- lar morning, in the very act of offering it to himself from a thick bottle thas lived be- hind she door, his band aud attention bad been arrested by the news, suddenly brought him, of an accident to one of his best horses. He hurried to the stable, leaving the draft incomplete, though with habitual secrecy he replaced the bottle in its hiding-place. And 80, by a train of circumstances re- mote yet remorseless, it was a mixture of cider and whiskey thas the hand of Miss Serena, with ite delicately orooked little finger, held admiringly to she light. She knew that Atalanta would disap. prove of cider. She knew that the Daugh- sers of Corufors classed all beverages that came not from the well as ‘wine that was red,” offered by Pleasure, in ‘‘temp:iog beakers.’’ She pinned no especial faith, in- deed, to Mrs. Lull's assurances of its inno: cence. This was worst of all. A delicious nonchalance supported her. She simply wanted to drink it, and she didn't care! — Into her mild blue eyes stole a new lighs, as something she had once read in a book unseen of Atalanta occurred to her. She raised her glass slightly and smiled across it at Mrs. Lull. “My regards,” said she. That lady pledged hers heartily from the edge of the tareen. It was 80 easy to talk to Mre. Lull. She told her all about she dispute over Grand- pe Balcom's will and whas people said of bis widow. She confided her success in making a winter bonnet ons of the silk of a broken umbrella thas she found near the station after the gale last year, and she de. soribed trinmphantly the process shrough which Mrs. Raynor’s undergarments could be made to fit Atalanta hy the insertion of a V-shaped piece in the back. It was all delightfully friendly and intimate. Mrs. Lull was such a pleasant woman—she bad never been so drawn to any one. Sometimes, indeed, she felt like patting her affectionately, but she never stayed in one place long enough to he tonched. It was very strange—such queer places as she was standing by the table and then she was in the sink, and when she looked toward the clock Mrs. Lull was sitting on it! Or were there two clocks? Yes, she was very different from any- body she had known. A sudden compari- son of characteristics wheeled the figure of ber sister into the range of her mental vision. Poor Atalanta, somehow it seem- ed a long time since she bad seen herand perhaps she had treated her shabbily. She must go back at once and ask her pardon —yes, at once! There was the door, and, for a wonder, no Mrs. Lall was in front of it. This was her chance. She must harry and beg Ata- lanta to forgive her. She would forgive Atalanta, too Forgiveness was so sweos and so Christian. You couldn’t have too much of it. The wish brought her to her feet. “‘Good-by, Mrs. Lull, good-by. I've had a beautiful time.” She walked carefully and with diguity, And I free with st : : £ E £ : : 1 it g i i i F 3 ; ih ; il ; i i floor with her toes, at least, these spasmod- | through the darkness. Tabby lay in her mistress’ lap, purring sociably. Miss Ara- lanta’s eyes closed in a comfortable realiza- tion of contens, though ber needles clicked incisively over the heel of a thick gray ng. Suddenly a sound, moflled, remote, broke through her musing. She straighs- ened in ber chair and pulled ber spectacies to her nose. It was repeated, this time a Jittle nearer, unusual in kind, unaccount- able in place—a heavy, dragging sound thas alarmed ber. Miss Asalanta’s mouth grew firm aud gave authority to the tone that came from it. “Who's in that summer kitchen ?'"’ she asked with iropressive directness, ‘Speak up, whoever's there !"’ There was no response, but strange, un- even footsteps ) rew nearer. Then came a pause. Miss / talanta rose to ber feet. She held the poker in her hand and kept her eyes on the door. The latch rose feebly, failed to catch and as feehly fell. Miss Aralanta’s grasp tight. ened on her weapon. She raised is threat- | fogly. **Speak op,’’ she commanded. ‘whoever A happy suugestion aided her! you are!” as she realized that she was armed. “If you’ve any husioess here, sir, speak out or I'll—shoot 1" An if in ancwer the latch clicked again. This time it caoghs, and the door flew hack against the wall with a crash. Framed in she opeving stood Miss Serena. Her oheeks were flushed and on her lips iat a smile of jineflable content. The poker struck the floor as Miss Ata- lanta raised her hande ic sorprive. “‘ls it yon, Serena?’’ she cried. *'Yon!'’ Then, as she came nearer her voice fell. ‘‘For the Lord’s sake, what's the matter of you?" she whispered hoarsely. Serena's tone was confident, her words came in answer facile bus thick. *‘Yes, it's I, wister. It'sreally I. I've just been over to Mre, Lull’s for a minute, and there's nothing the matter with me—only—I'd think I was dying if [ didn’t know I was t— The sentence was never finished. A sud. denly comprehension stirred Atalanta to action. With a desperate quickness she pulled down the shades, glancing fortively outside and hoping that it might not be too late. Then she thrust the little figure, protesting but pliable, into the rocking: obair. “‘My dear, dear sister,”’ came [rom its depthe, ‘I forgive yonand I've bad—a— beautifol —time—' Mies Atalanta paid no attention. She stood grimly by the secretary in the corner. From its place heside the dictionary she bad taken a book. It wae *‘Doctor John- sou’s family Physician; A Handy Volume of One Hundred Remedies and Antidotes.” She held it open in her left band, and ber eyes followed her right forefinger as it moved down the list of D’s.—By Johnson Morton, in Adinslee's. Sons of Veterans Encampment. The 28th annual encampment of the Pennsylvania Division of the Sons of Vet- erans, U. 8. A., will be held at Williams- port during the week, beginning June 8th, 1908. It will be an affair of far more than ordinary import, since preparations are be- ing made to have this the largess and moss | ¥ imposing encampment ever held by this meritorious organization. The camp will open on Sunday, June 7th, at 2 p. m. with religions services, oon- ducted by Chaplain Kelley, Camp No. 44, of Williamsport. SHAM BATTLE ON TUESDAY. Tuesday alternoon she sham bastle takes place, in which several thousand of the eserves will participate, as well as the four companies of N. G. P., located at Williamsport. Twenty thousand rounds of shells will be fired off in this battle. PARADE ON THURSDAY. Tharsday afternoon, at 2 o’clook, the monster parade will start and the route covers all the principal streets of she city. Five hondred tents will he pitched on the camp grounds for the use of the Sons of Veterans. Besides the numerous bands there will be at least 3,000 men and 150 horses in the line of parade, which will make it a spectacle worth seeing, equal to she sham hattle on Taesday afternoon. CIVIC BRANCH CONVENTION. The Civic branch of the organization will be in session all day Wednesday, Thursday forenoon, as well as pars of Fri- day. The various local committees are highly enthusiastic in their efforts to make this the grandest affair ever seen in Wil- liamsport, and all indications point to the fact that they will be higbly sucocessfol. From what has been learned so far there will be from 30 000 to 40,000 visitors in Willia rt on each of the sham battle and parade days. . PLENTY OF PLEASURE. Automobile rides over the Grampian Hills and along the level expanse for miles in and out about the city ; grand military balls ; steam hoat rides on the beautiful Susquehanna between Williamsport avd Sylvan Dell Park, five miles east of Wil. linmsport, as well as between the city and Nippeno Park, twelve miles west of Wil liameport, aud many other amusements are on the week’s program. ONE OF THE GRANDEST SITES. The site chosen for the camp adjoins one of the handsomess sections of Will t and will be complete in all its ns- ments. The grounds are admirably located on a beautiful, level expanse ; bordered on the west by the golf links of tlie Country Club, Athletio Park, where the Tri-State ball games will be played every day of the chums}, adjoins the eastern side of grou Immediately to the north lies the beautiful park summer theatre and dancing pavilion, known as Valliamont, while directly south of the camp lies the grounds, as level asa . Ad- ¢ to the northwestern cornerol the camp is a large grove of shade trees. ET SPRING HEART. I'll wear a cloak of sunshine, A hat of fleecy sky, And not a child in all the world Shall be sogay as 1! A searf of scented breeses, Green grass upon my feet ; I'll dance and sing like anything, The world is all so sweet ! I'll fill my heart with springtime— I'll fill ny pockets, too, 80 it shal! last me ail the ) ear, And I'll give some to you! —Abbie Farwell Brown, April Batter Scoring Contest. i | The butter entered in the first eduvea | tioual securing contest of 1908 at The Peun- | sylvavia Stare College show= a decided improvements over that of lase year. The packages presented a good app aravee, ex- cept 1 one or two Cases where the liners lapped too much and the package otherwise | showed a lack of nearness. Twenty-two tubs were entered. The scoring was done by P. H. Keffer, of New York, and the moi