= = % Santa Claus on “The Limited” [Copyright, 1908, by American Press Asso- clation.) HE Chicago Limited was pulling out of the Grand Central sta- tion in New York as Dr, Henry Van Valkenberg submitted his ticket to the gateman. He dashed through, pushing that indignant offi- cial to one side, made a leap for the railing of the last car of the train and a friendly brakeman dragged him “on board.” Dr. Van Valkenberg smiled a little ruefully as he thanked the man and rubbed the aching sur face of his hand. Then he pulled him- self together, picked up the books and newspapers he had dropped and which the bystanders had enthusiastically hurled after him and sought his haven In the sleeping car. “O-oh! Were you hurt?” said a voice behind him. “I was so 'fraid you were going to fall” Dr. Van Val kenberg, who was a tall man of sixty, turned and looked down from his great height. At his feet stood a baby. At least she seemed a baby to him, al- though she was very dignified and wholly self “WERE YOU HURT?" possessed and fully four years old. She was looking up at him with dark brown eyes and was so delicious in her almost maternal eolicitude that he smiled irrepressibly. “Why, no, thank you.” he said. “I am not hurt. Didn't you see the kind man help me on to the car?” “I'm very glad,” she said, with dig- nity. “I was 'fraid he hurt you.” She turned as she spoke and toddled into the section opposite his, where a plain but kindly faced elderly woman sat. “Won't you come over and visit me?” he asked. “I am very lonely, and 1 have no one to take care of me.” She slid off the seat at once, with great alacrity. “I'd like to,” she said, “but I must ask Nana. [ must always ask Nana now,” she added, with dutiful empha- sis, *“'fore 1 do anyfing.” She laid her hand on the gloved fin- gers of the nurse as she spoke, and the woman opened her eyes, shot a quick glance at the man and nodded. She had not been asleep. Dr. Van Valken- berg rose and lifted his visitor to the seat beside him, where her short legs stuck out in uncompromising rigidity. “I can take care ef you,” she sald brightly. “I taked care of mamma a great deal. and I gave her her med’- cin'.” “Very well,” he said. with the smile women loved; “if you really are going to take care of me I must know your name. You see,” he explained, “1 mizht need you in the night to get me a glass of water or something. Just think how disappointing it would be if I should call yon by the wrong name and some other little girl came!” “You say funny things,” she said contentedly. “But there isn’t any other little girl in the car. I looked soon as I came in, 'cos I wanted one to play with. 1 like little girls. I like little boys, too,” she added, with innocent expansiveness. “Then we'll play I'm a little boy. You'd never believe it, but I used to be. You haven't told me your name.” “Hope,” she sald promptly. “Do you think it is a nice name?’ She made the inquiry with anxious interest. “I think Hope is the nicest name a little girl could have except one,” he said. “The nicest little girl 1 ever knew was named Katharine. She grew to be a nice big girl, too, and has little girls of her own now, no doubt” he added, half to himself. “Were you a little boy when she was a littie giri?” asked his visitor. “Oh, no; 1 was a big man, just as 1 am now. Her father was my friend, and she lived in a white house with an old garden where there were all kinds of flowers. She used to pla; there when she was a tiny baby, and I would carry her around and hold her high up so she could pull the apples and pears off the trees. When she grew larger I gave her a horse and taught her to ride. She seemed like my very own little girl, but by and by she grew up and became a& young iady, | and—well, she went away from me, won't you? and I never had another little girl.” tials,” he sald cordially, “1 want you and Hope to dine with me. You will. Later, in the feverish excitement of “Did she zo to heaven?’ asked the | hanging up her stockings, going to bed little girl softly. “Oh, dear, no!” answered the doctor, with brisk cheerfulness, “Then why didn’t she keep on being your little girl always?” The doctor hesitated a moment. [He was waking the discovery that after many years old wounds can reopen and throb. No one had ever been brave enough to broach to him the sub- Jeet of this single love affair which he was now discussing. “Well, you see,” he explained, “other boys liked her too. And when she be- came a young lady other men liked her. Sa finnlly—one of them took her away from me.” He uttered the last words wearily, and the sensitive atom at his side seemed to understand why. Her little hand slipped into his, “Why didn't you ask her to please stay with you?’ she persisted pity- ingly. “I did,” he told her. “But, you see, she liked the other man better.” “Oh-h-h!" The word came out long drawn and breathless. “1 don't see how she possibly could.” here were such sorrow for the vie- tim and scorn for the offender in the tone that, combined with the none too subtle compliment, i* was too much for Dr. Van Valkenberg's self control. He threw back his gray head and burst into an aimost boyish shout of laughter, which ¥ effectually clear ed the atmos- ( phere of senti- mental memories. “Where are you going to hang up your stockings to “I can't hang them up,” she an- swered soberly. “SantaClaus doesn’t travel on trains, Nana says.” “Nana is al ways right,” sald the doctor oracu- larly, ‘‘and of course you must DRAGGING CARTS AND WOOLLY LAMBS. going to get on the train tonight at Buffalo, and I believe that if he found | night?’ he asked. ' } { { i i i do exactly as she says. ButI heard that Santa Claus was | and peeping through the cur- tains to catch Santa Claus, a part of Hope's extraordinary repose of man- ner deserted het, but she fell asleep at last, with great reluc- tance, When the cur- taius round her berth had ceased trembling a \ most unusual - procession wend- ed its silent way toward Dr. Van “I'LL. BE YOUR OWN Valkenberg's LITTLE GIRL.” section. In some occult manner the news had gone from one end to the other of the “limited” that a little girl in section 9. car Florodora, had bung up her stock- ings for Santa Claus. The hearts of fathers, mothers and doting uncles re- sponded at once, Dressing cases were unlocked, great valises were opened, mysterious bundles were unwrapped, and from all these sources came gifts of surprising fitness, A succession of long drawn. ecstatic breaths and happy gurgles awoke the passengers on the car Florodora at an unseemly hour Christinas morning, and a small white figure, clad informally in a single garment, danced up and down the aisle, dragging carts and woolly lambs behind it. Occasionally there was the squeak of a talking doll, and always there were the patter of small feet and soft cooing of a child's laughter. Dawn was just approach- ing, and the lamps, still burning, flared pale in the gray light. But in the length of that car there was no soul 80 base as to long for silence and the pillow. Crabbed old faces looked out between the curtains and smiled. Eyes | long unused to tears felt a sudden. strange moisture. Throughout the day the snow still fell, and th» outside world seemed far away and dreamlike to Dr. Van Val- kenberz. The real things wege this train, cutting its way through the snow, and this little child, growing deeper into his heart with each mo- ment that passed. The situation was a pair of small black stockings hanging | unique, but easy enough to understand, from that section he'd fill them.” Her eyes sparkled. he toid himself. He bad merely gone | back twenty-five years to that other “Then I'll ask Nana,” she sald. “And | child whom he had petted in infancy it she says I may hang them I wil. | But one,” she added conscientiously,! had been very lonely—how lonely he “has a teeny, weeny hole in the toe. | had only recently begun to realize—and Do you think he would mind that?’ He reassured her on this point and turned to the nurse. ! 1 and loved and lost in womanhoed. He he was becoming an old man whose life lay behind him. He crossed the aisle suddenly and sat down beside “I beg your pardon.” he sald. “I've! the nurse, leaving Hope singing her taken a great fancy to your littl charge, and I want your help to caery cut a plan of mine. I have suggested to Hope that she hang up her stock. ings tonight. 1 have every reason to believe that Santa Claus will get on this train at Buffalo. In fact,” he add ed, “I mean to telegraph him.” The nurse hesitated a moment. He drew his cardcase from his pocket and handed her one of the bits of paste board it contained. “I have no evil designs,” he added cheerfully. “If you are a New Yorker. you may possibly know who I an.” The woman's face lit up as she read the name. She turned toward him im- pulsively, with a very pleasant smile. “Indeed 1 do, doctor,” she said. “Who does not? Dr. Abbey sent for you last week,” she added, “for a consultation over the last case 1 had- this child's mother. But you were out of town. We were all so disappointed.” “Patient died?” asked the physician with professional brevity. “Yes, doctor.” He rose from his seat. “Now that you have my creden i do’! to sleep in his section. “Will you tell me all you know about the child? he asked. “She ap- peals to me very strongly, probably be- cause she’s so much like some one I used to know.” The nurse closed her book and look- ed at him curiously. She had heurd much of him, but nothing would ex- plain this interest in a strange child. He himself could not have explained it. He knew only that he felt it pow- erfully and compellingly. “Her name is Hope Armitage” she said. “Her mother, who has just died was a widow, Mrs. Katharine Armi- tage. They were poor, and Mrs. Ar- mitage seemed to have no relatives. She had saved a little, enough to pay most of her expenses at the hospital. We all loved the woman. She was very unusual and patient and charm- Ing. All the nurses who had any- thing to do with her cried when she died. We felt that she might have been saved if she had come in time, but she was worked out. She had earned her living by sewing after her | agreed to take her in. husband's death three years ago, and she kept at it day and night. She was 80 sweet, s0 brave, yet so desperately miserable over leaving her little girl alone in the world.” Dr. Van Valkenberg sat silent. It was true, then. This was Katharine's child. He had not known of the death of Armitage nor of the subsequent poverty of his widow, but he had known Katharine's baby, he now told himself, the moment he saw her. “Well,” the nurse resumed, “after she died we raised a small fund to buy some clothes for Hope and take her to Chicago to her new home. Mrs. Armitage has a cousin tliere who has None of the relatives came to the funeral. There are not many of them, and the Chica- £0 people haven't much money, I fancy.” Dr, Van Valkenberg was hardly sur- prised. Life was full of extraordinary situations, and his profession had brought him face to face with many of them. Nevertheless a deep solem- nity filled him, and a strange peace settled over him. “l want her,” he said briefly. “Her mother and father were old friends of mine, and this thing looks like fate. Will they give her to me—these Chi- cago people--do you think?” Tears filled the woman's eyes. “Indeed they will,” she said, “and gladly. There was” —she hesitated— “there was even some talk of sending her to an institution before they finally decided to take her. Dear little Hope! How happy she will be with you!” He left Ler and went back to the seat where Hope sat crooning to the doll. Sitting down, he gathered them both up in his arms, and a thrill shot through him as he looked at the yellow curls resting against his breast. Her child—her little, helpless baby—now his child to love and care for! He was not a religious man. Nevertheless a prayer rose spontaneously in his heart. “Hope,” he said gently, “once long ago I asked a little girl to come and live with me, and she would not come. Now I want to ask you to come and stay with me always and be my own little girl and let me take care of you and make you happy. Will you come?” The radiance of June sunshine broke out upon her face and shone in the brown eyes upturned to his. How well he knew that look! Hope did not turn toward Nana, and that significant omis- sion touched him deeply. She seemed to feel that here was a question she alone must decide. She drew a long breath as she looked up at him. “Really, truly? she asked. Then, as he nodded without speaking, she saw something in his face that was new to her. It was nothing to fright- en a little girl, for it was very sweet and tender. but for one second she thought her new friend was going to cry. She nut both arms around his neck and replied softly, with the ex- quisite maternal cadences her voice had taken on in her first words to him when she entered the car: “I'll be your own little girl, and I'll take care of you too. You know, you said I could.” Dr. Van Valkenberg turned to the nurse. “I shall go with you to ker cousin's from the train,” he announced. “I'm ready to give them all the proofs they need that I''m a suitable guardian for the child, but,” he added, with a touch of the boyishness that had never left him, “I want this matter settled now." The long train pounded its way into the station at Chicago, and Dr. Van Valkenberg summoned a porter. “Take care of these things,” he said. indicating both sets of posses sions with a sweep of his arm. “I shall bave my hands full with my little daughter.” He gathered her into his arms as he spoke, and she nestled against his broad chest with a child's unconscious sat- isfaction in the strength and firmness of his Si NES clasp, NESTLED AGAINST “ Y . HIS BROAD CHEST. Merry Christ mas!” sounded on every side. Everybody was ab- sorbed and excited, yet there were few who did not find time to turn a last look on a singularly attractive little child held above the crowd in the arms of a tall man. She was laugh. ing triumphantly as he bore her through the throng, and his heart was in his eyes as he smiled back at her. When Henry W. Longfellow Shocked Intellectual Boston. In the original impression of Long- fellow's poem of “Hiawatha” there were found in the seventh book the three lines following: Straight Into the river Kwasind Plunged as if he were an otter, Dove as if he were a beaver. How this offending preterit passed the proofreader without protest is one of those mysteries which have never been revealed. But the form certainly made its appearance and can still be expunged, and the decorous “dived” assumed its place, and the whole trans. action was so completely hushed un that no public scandal was creaied. Let hin who possesses a copy of that first impression continue to cherish it. Whatever may be its worth now, the time will come when it will reach the value of the virtuous woman of Scrip- ture, and its price will be far above rubies.— Professor Thomas R. Louns- bury ir Harper's Magazine. found In copies of the poem which were regularly published and sold. Boston never received such a shock since the days when Fenimore Cooper Y OUR DUTY IS TO BE WELL. insisted that it was only in the middle But you eannot be well if you neglect states that the English language was ng 's Sure when you spoken in its purity. But that attack uow ou should take it A go il ii came from an outsider. Here the of- that tired fecling-—hy these apd other fender was of her own household, was, ® e today. ne Roofs. de in fact, her favorite son. What means Glow of Bethy | blood was Ser of suppression were resorted to will poor. Sivas taking 's Sarsaparilis probably never be disclosed. A myste- well, and ee x x pe aSp nd - rious reticence has always been pre- A. Howard, Taunton, Mass, served In regard to this linguistic esca- In Worst Form—*1 had eatarrh in the pade. The biographers of Longfellow appear to be silent upon the subject. Hood's Sarsaparilla. worst form and was advised to try Hood's Sarssparilla. 1 took seven botiles and am now in good health, | hope everyone who has catarrh will give Hood's a fair Measures of some sort must, however, Jal" Men. William Metealf, Parker- have been taken at once. “Dove” was " - i mn a, Hale CASTORIA R THE LADIES. —Miss Jennie Mor- gan in her rooms on Spring St., is ready to pe any and all patients wishing electric also for sale a For Infants and Children. The Kind You Have Always Borght collection of tion shell and combs and ornaments, small Bears the Signature of jewelry, belts and belt buckles, hair So and ry Repealed hin Be w to su ou w nds of CHAS. H. FLETCHER. bobby dnd oly powders, toilet waters, ex‘racts and all of Hudnut's preparations. 50-18 Colleges & Schools. JF YOU WISH TO BECOME. A Chemist, 4 Teacher, An Engineer, A Lawyer, An Electrician, A Physician, A Scientific Farmer, 4 Journalist, in short, if you wish to secure a training that wii! 8% you well for any honorable pursuit in life, THE PENNSYLVANIA STATE COLLEGE OFFERS EXCEPTIONAL ADVANTAGES. TUITION IS FREE IN ALL COURSES. TAKING EFFECT IN SEPT. 1900, the General Courses have been axtensively modified, so as to fur- nish a much mors varied range of electives, after the Freshman year, than jlurdtajore; includ- ing History ; the English, French, German, Spanish, Latin and Greek Languages Litera- tures ; Psyc ; Ethies, and tical Science. These courses are especially ada to the wants of those who seek either the most thorough training for the Profession of Teaching, or a general College Education. The courses in Opemiuies, Civh, Electrical, Mechanical and Mining Engineering are among the very best in the United Graduates have no difficulty in securing and holding positions. YOUNG WOMEN ave admitted to all courses on the same terms as Young Men. FIRST SEMESTER begins Thursday, September 17th, 1908. For specimen examination papers or for catalogue giving full intormation respecting courses of study, expenses, ete, and showing positions held by graduates,’address THE REGISTRAR, State College, Centre County. Pa. Attorneys-at-Law. J C. MEYER—Attorney-at-Law, Rooms 20 & oe 8. GLENN, M. D., Physician and Sur- 21, Crider's Exchange, Bellefonte, Pa. o State College, Centre county, Pa. ce at de i Visa -— . - - » en B. SPANGLER — Attorney-at-Law. Prac- Dentists. . tices in all the Courts. Consultation in nglish and German. Office in Crider's Ex. | ————————== ? HH change, Bellefonte, Pa. R. J. E. WARD, D.D.S.. office next door to Y. M. C, A. room, High street, Bellefonte, Gas administered for painless extracting H 8. TATLOR_Atoruy and Counsellor at | teeth. Superior Crown and Bridge work. Prices . Law. ce, Garman House Block, fonte, Pa. 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