Bellefonte, Pa., February 19, 1909, THE PRESIDENTS IN RHYME First the great Washington appears, And Adams serves for four brief years, The House elects then Jeflerson, And Louisiana's grandly won. Madison's is the next great name, A war drags through, with checkered fame. Then James Mouaroe assumes the chair, His famous doctrine to declare, A second Adams next i= chief {Thanks to the House). His term is brief, The next is Jackson, who declares We are a nation, and who dares Nallifieation's host to fight. Van Buren next and panic's blight, Then comes the hero of Tippecanoe, Brave Harrison—and Tyler. too. Death claims our chief ; and Texas, far, To grace our banner, adds her sar. Polk takes the helm. The Mexican war Brings us a vast Pacific shore, Oregon rounds our vast domain, Then Taylor and Filmore. Once again Comes the deathangel ! Filmore trikes To heal our quarrels with compromise, Pierce brings hope of a better day, But Kansas-Nebraska is in the way. Bucharnan ossays to ealm the strife, But secession aims at the nation's life. Abraham Lincoln guides our ship Through seas of blood, on its fearful trip, Bat falls a martyr, when war is done, And the land is saved, and the victory won. Johnson fills out the lingering years, And Grant, the hero of war, appears. Then Hayes by the narrowest margin wins, And a newer national iife begins, Garfield and Arthur comes next in view, But the first is slain ere the year is through. Cleveland is next, then Harrison, Then Cleveiund again is the favored one. McKinley carries our banner far O'er distant seas, in the Spanish War, But falls a vietim of murderous hate, And Roosevelt takes the chair of state, Such is the presidential line From the days of 1789, —Hubert M. Skinner. THE RENT VEIL seen her again. | Nor conid any blind “They 're so wonderful, are n’s they?’ agreed Agnes, eagerly. “‘Yet for a long time, since she was a little girl, they bave been of almost no nse to her, and for—I can’s tell you just how perbaps six months or so—she’s been altogether blind. Poor Ned has been so touched by it. Of coarse be 's told you all about her long ago. He clings so to the little we all have that she may not be blind always. It ’s such a curious case that nobody knows. Bat, oh, she lives so brilliantly in her datkpess! To me she seems streaming with light.”” It was the tone in which Hersey's sister spoke of settlements and charities aud all ber tender, selfless passions. | “You pity ber, then?’ asked Royce, | quite coolly. | “Why, how can you ask? The sublime ' way she meets it does n’s lessen that.”’ i “She has great courage.’’ Royce stopped | and meditated. ‘Bot I can’s pity her,” | be added wish conviction. "Really, [ can't | feel anything of the ort.” Pity is, bowever, au emotion that lacks consecatievuess, [ts passionate sparts find relief in blank periods. If Royce had pis! ied Lorraine Morland, be might never haye | What he did experience in thinkiog of the girl was, so far as he could define it to himself, an extreme discomfort. It was true, as she had guessed, that there had seemed to bim at first an actual indelicacy in displaying her infirmity $o strangers, tacitly demanding sympathy, services, con- cessions. But her abundant personality could not confine itself within the familiar, timid, crippled 10le; it might be that there was something magoificens in her refusal to attempt it. Suill, bebind her ostenta- tious bravery there lay something thas mystified and perbaps repelled bim. He! did not know what it was; so, inevitably, be went to see her to find ous. As he stood outside her door for the first time he was amazed to find how keenly be dreaded the meeting. Within, it seemed that the house must be like a great, hush: ed sick-100m. Here, where she lived, the horror of her blindness conld not be escap- | 80 slight resistance to oveisome. | accomplishment. | ed, then found, then worshiped, wa< the which Lorraine Morland was nos the vivid center. It was curiously possible for Royce now and then to see withoas shinking of her blindness as all, so gay and stalwart was the spirit she brougbs always to the bridge of their intercourse. Nor bad any lament ever oreps into her own confessions, At other times, the pity shat he bad at first complacently withheld from her sabmerg- ed and suffocated him. Yet be, too, had spoken no word of it. Ouoce ouly she bad told bim that she was scarcely more regret. ful of her lost sight thau vain of the new ccmpetence of her hands, through which she was able toget a dimmed, smothered vision of the world. They were long, slen- der, eloquent hauds—an actress's bands, Royce told her, He deferred, becanse his nature was not impetuous, the inevitable confession ; and when it at last sprang from him, he was perhaps not wholly surprised thas he bad Indeed, he had dimly known somewhere deep with- in him that there would be joy in her eyes when he told her. Bat he did not know why she gave a little, mofiled cory and | | would say pothing uoti! be hegged her miserably to tell him in so many words that she cared. ‘*‘From the firsts moment,” she whispered, but would not icok up throogh those strange tears that came, Royce suppused, fiom one of the forever inexplicable spricgs of womanhood. Usually scant of speech, Royce bad a tor. rent of words to tell her what had drawn him to her. Others were stupid enongh to content themselves with ber brilliancy and What be had first divin- laminons childlike sonl that she chose to shroud in many strange ganzes. But she | —what, after all, could she know of him ? | With all her subtle divinations, how igno- rant she really was of the mau she bad | been hrave enough to love. “I onght not to accept is of youn,’ humility. came in on the warm wind. They | Vom Moltke on Washington, the Soi- | near togesher, these three. | dior. very Even the dejected Hersey laoghed and grew gay, pnd Boyes felt Wit each ve ment a more I perious joy. Lorraine's bea! lay sgeinst the back of her chair, a¢ on the day when Royce had first seen her, and there was again a shining ao- dacity in her smiling face. Her loug, del- | 87Y icate hands were clasped aboot her knee. Bat if shere was indifference in her atti- tude, laughter. The two men who loved her de- from her loog, mysterions constraint. Ae they sat talking, the far-off fragment of sky grew suddenly bluer, th: soft wind became cool and sharp. Royee did not notice the chauge, anxiously. he urged. “Let me get you a weap.”’ “Purely as an indulgence to you, Ned,” she 'anghed. *‘Iam lali of warmth. if you want to pnt a scarf abont we, you dear grandmother, von shall. Look in the room across the ball, and I fancy you may find one.” As Hersey left the room, the wind deep- ened tut, a sttong gast. On a table vear the open window stood a tall, slender vase filled with some pale roves thas Royee had sent. Caught in the wind, the vase top- pled =udtenly, threatened 10 fall. “Oh!” Lorraine cried ont gnickly, and Royee followed the direction of her eyes. A second later the vase was overturned, and the roses strewed the floor hot Royee's iron lonk was nos upon she trivial disaster. It gripped, instead, Lorraine Morland’s eye<—the eves that had seen the flowers before they fell. Vainly they tried to escape him, the eves that were trapped, betrayed, shamed. But he held them ruthlessly. There was an unspeakable agony where Roscoe bad al- wave hefore seen innocence and candor. And it was that ignoble agony that is born | he | of shawe and fear, ' protested, iv the first exaggeration of his | knew why she had been aliaid,—and the *‘Lorraive, eyes tell ns almost | knowledge was 100 terrible to face. everything ; yon cannot really know me. | tarned away as Hersey, who had heen ab- | He ed or disguised. He would have to pity | My very face might be abhorrent to you ; | sent only a few seconds, re-entered the ber, here. seeing her with such significans little props | about her as her blindness might demand. woman, however | straightforward, resist the contriving of a shade of dramatic appeal in her own inti- He could | ness or cruelty—"' “Ah, I know what you are assured him, solemnly. He persisted. ‘There is a way that you can tell. Your hands can see for you. dear? Why do you hide them ? Are they doing precisely what was expected of him, | see in her face the expectation of flowers | afraid of me?” Christopher Royce rejected various agree- ' which he should have brought ber, and | able possibilities of spending the late bours | which she would, with artful habit, have | me,” she begged. the gladuvese strangely of the afternoon, and went to call on Her- | touched wistfully and laid to ber obeek. | gone from ber. “I do not need to know sey’s sister. In the first place she was Hersey’e sister, and Hersey was sensitively vigilant as to ber receiving ber social dues. Toward himself, too, Royce was aware that her intent had always been peculiarly gra- oious. Moreover, Agnes Hersey knew that be bad only just arrived from Italy, his work for a time completed, and that he was to a lage extent as leisure. It was for so many reasons appropriate that Royce should turn off at Fifey-third Stree: and present himse!f for she kind and punesil- ious inquiries with which Hersey’s sister would examine the eight mouths he had been away. He strove, therefore, to ac- mire the look of one who meets the ocea- ball-way as he entersd the coldly fuor- | nished, thinly cartained room where Agnes Hersey was talking with a group of women who were, he saw, professionally acoustom- ed to this manuver of passing their time. Bat it was pleasantly characteristic of Agoes Hersey that she promptly devoted hereell to the severer of her visitors, allow ing Royce to talk with the one woman wish whom conversation seemed desirable —a tall young cieatore of anstinted per. sonality whose head leaned a little arco. tly against the slightly sloping back of ip Big His first fastidious glance bad caught ber profile, which he thought nu- distinguished. Orit was, as least, with- vat delicacy; its short, blunt lines tilted queerly npwaid, and the piquant ohin was too strongly diawn. It was a face that Royce would have heen able to diswiss easily had is not been for she look of as- tonishiog unreserve with which ber fall, brown eyes swept him, and which he oddly found that he had no wish to escape. “I have been wondering abouts yoo, Mr. Royce,’ she hegan, a little too assuredly. “Why do you come directly home from your galleries and things without stopping so amuse yoursel[® Are your arms hea #0 high with the fruits of diligence that you are afraid they will spill?" Royce, displeased, stammered something iclevant, The Jay oa ae, onild ex- pect within the tality ersey’s sister was to be taken seriously. y “I bave o’t made a mistake, sorely? You are Ch Royce, are n't you? I . ed I shoul meet you when J bp “Then Miss Hersey has—'' “I believe it bas been Ned, mostly. Youn know he talks of you interminably. He bas told you of me, but I suspect you did 2° oatoh my name just now. I am Lor- Morland.” Royoe flushed and looked at her square- Iy. “You can’t be,” he said. “Why, what was your idea of me? Cer- tainly Ned Hersey conld never have told told you I was ‘pathetic’ ¥ That was n't the reason you did n’s want to meets me?’ “I've always heen in the way of allow- ing a margin for Hersey’s enthusiasms. So sometimes it happens that [ leave too mach. Nevertheless, | 've wanted immensely to meet you; you 're quite wrong.’’ Her low laughter graciously clothed her ; and she seemed constantly to catch is up and let it fall again, like the thin diapery that a beatiful woman indiffer- ently draws over her bare shoulders, then lets slip lightly away. *‘I wish you might be able to get used to me,’’ she said, with- out embarrassinent, ‘because I want tre- mendously to know you. Aud your voice sounds as il you conid.”’ Royce allowed a second to pass withont replying, and she adroitly seized the si- lence, “‘After all, this was n’¢ a fortunate time for ns to meet, I know. I remind you —don’t mind my saying this, Mr, Royoe, I feel it so strongiy-—olf the crippled things that have been begging from you in Italy. Something like the tourist formala muss be in your mind: youn don’t mind giving your friendship to a blind creature, but you hate to have it extorted. Is that it?” ‘‘What Hersey told me of yon,” Royce said slowly, ‘was incredible. I could not believe that I should pity you, and pity, to all of us, is so intolerable. But youn bave somewhere an ample vision— We, Sons Jou votl understand,” she . e as Aguoes Hersey radiant with sell-effacement, joined them. In a few moments more Lorraine Morland | singular extent to which the Herseys’ devo- Fortonately, he bad no flowers. She would | have to arrange something else. { Her face glowed, however, from a walk | she said she had just taken, and she cat unaffectedly in an everyday sort of chair with commonplace things abont her. Even her hands, though they were delicate, ar- | tist’s hands, forbore pathos. Royce forgot his panic, and sarrendered himself with | frank pleasure to the inflacnee ol her voice | and the stimulus of her amusing talk. It | was artfally mavaged talk, he was aware | of that, implying all the companionable | mental qualities 1n the listener. Without | reserve, Royce was enjoying himself. Ouly | now and then an unspeakable pauyg tore | though him. It bad to do with the ter- | rible consciousness that the woman oppo- | site him wa« biind. i A moment's silence finally on both their | parts, at the announcement of another guest, was a curiously frank admission that | the interruption was unwelcome, even! though the interrupter was their common | friend, Ned Hersey. Hersey's anxious eyes, as he entered, did not see Royoe; they | were fastened intensely on Lorraine Mor- | land as though they looged to wring some- thing from her, He brought, too, what Royce considered the distinctly banal gifs | of some violets, and Royce watched, hating | himself for watching. Bat without press. | ing them to her face, Miss Morland placed | them a little carelessly in her belt, *Why do you ask me how I am, Ned?” she asked, with a suggestion of petulance, “‘when yon know I aw always riotously well? Nowadays I 'm really too well be- cause those dear, reckless Warners take me motoring vo much. You know, Mr. Royce, that is ’e for blind people motoring was in- vented. [Is restores one’s pride eo, the ex- hiliaration wishous the least dependence on somebody else, the delicious danger with- out a bit of effort.” “Lorraine, you are not able to help or save yourself. How can you be so foolish, how can you dare to risk your life—"’ Her- sey began excitedly. “I sn because my father is willing, and there is no one else whom I need con- sul,” she said in a cool tone that made a little silence and eent Royce compassion. ately away. The suspicion that she listle eoene had been planned for his own illom- ination seemed to him, the next moment, absurdly fataous. That night, still wrapped in the stimu- lating new sense of companionship that the afternoon had given him, Royce took a perplexity bad arisen, he told himself, from the fact sbat at their first meeting he literally bad not seen Miss Morland. His varrow preoccupation with the delicate and =piritual types for which he had always bad a fastidions preference had blinded him. Moreover, itis by no means with the first glance that one arrives at the significant or the beautiful. No soon- er did one realize this vital woman than more fragile creatures seemed for the first time inadequate. She, too, bad soul, or spirit, or whatever it mighs be called; but it did not stare ous, half-sheltered, like a lantern on a windy night; it glowed deep within her, reticent and inviolate. Is bappened that their frievdship faced a leisurely winter. Royce, ostensibly bus- | ied with proof sheets and consultations of | many sorte, said that it would be necessary for him to defer his nexs sailing until spring. He often saw Miss Morland at her own house, less often at the Herseys'. With Agnes Hersey, the desite 80 lead other people to admire Lorraine was con- stant aod irresistible. Bat her brother's adoration bad become pretty thoroughly tinged with despair; he was growing hag- gard in his effort to get used to the idea that Lorraine Morland would never marry him. Royce, looking on, wondered at the tion to their friend was interwoven with misunderstanding. Agnes’s ion of Lorraine demanded, he told her, a Gothio frame; it was saintly, attennated, unreal. It was Ned's quite common obsession that she was frailly feminine, adorably in need. How odd it was that he alone bad been able to grasp her, to see that, from her fascinating variousness, matic flexibility of temperamen alter all, ber simplicity shat set her ly apart. He found, too, he resent the Herseys’ py oe de it was an Ee , one she | must ulted She tarned her face away. more thw I do. | thas.” | like,"' she | anid Royce, with perfecs naturalness. | ! i | the air. Then sudddenly the room seemed | Don’t ask we to do too close and narrow for the three. i He could not coldly endare ' is may be scarred with weakness or base- | rooin and stopped in confusion, “Amazingly weatherwive you are, See what the wind did while yon were away. I'll pick it up. Or, no ; there's nothing to pick up. Everything is shattered. It's odd | mate background. Already he could see | Come, let them search my face, feel what | what a litsle gost of wind can do. I'd het- | ber bands flutter pitifully out toward the | is there and tell you. Ob, where are they, With an oppressive feeling that be was | conveniences lying near ber. ter close the window, don's you think Lor- 1aine 2 Her lips parted, and she tried to answer, “Don't ask When the words wonld not come, Royce spared her. crossed the room, and shut ont In domb, awkward wonder, Hersey went “Then let it be for me, instead,” he | away and left the others alone. pleaded. %0.% “Let it he becanse I want you There was a long struggle before Lor- raine could speak, and even then she could But her obduracy plainly cost ber so! not look at Royce. much, her mysterious suffering was so on- | feigned, thas Royce was obliged to yield ; and accepted ber ruefal dismissal in a con- fused chagrin that was shortly absorbed hy that keen, white flawe so newly kindled withio him. It returned later, however, again and again, The girl’s former heroic confidence seemed to have turned to uocertainty, ca- price, and tears. It was almost as though the woman to whom Royce had given bis love had died in the moment of its ac- koowledgment. It was even hard to re. call, nowadays, the earlier Lorraine's exu- berance and zest in life. Their extinction called out in him a pew tenderness, bat his bewilderment remained uusoothed. Always, now, whatever ber mood or man- ver of speech, it was as if a great fear lay upon ber. The obvions explanation of it all was that she was aware of having too rashly surrevdered, that she did vot really love him. Yet, this, in some way, Royce could not make himself believe, “I bad vot supposed that anythivg in the world conld quench or subdue you, Lorraive,” he at last ventured to say to her. *‘Can it be that you are afraid ? And is it—of me ?"’ She closed her eyes with a little shudder. “It may be that it is of you,” she said slowly. ‘At least—Iam altraid—of disap- pointing ycu, of not making you bappy.” *‘I can forgive that fear. But it is a very foolish one. Let us destroy it.” “You see, Christopher, there will be so many years. And you will get so tired, perhaps, of my dependence ou vou. If is were only a little, little different; if I could see again—only a little glimmer,—1I should not feel—"’ “And I did pot even suspect that that was your grief I” he exclaimed, profound. ly touched. ‘‘Dearest, I have been much too completely under your spell.” In April, Royce was to sail again for Italy. y were to be married, he and Lorraine, a week before. Upon his world lay more than the traditional enchantment. Is bad been so easy for the detached young man to assume that he would never mar- . His earlier romanticism bad been un- Sturbingly cool and impersonal, and the course | urged upon him by anxious relatives, shat o! marriage with a * al listle wile,” who would materially min- ister to him while chaining him to one te. dious spot, bad failed in the least degree to menace his cheerful freedom. Bat to take this wonderfal blind woman by the hand and lead her about she world, to devoar constantly without ever exhausting the joy of her aweet dependence, was a project that bad utterly captured his long-reluotant im- agination. Into what oe fo of delight world be not lead her exquisite helpless. ness! Beyond all this, he had a character- istio satisfaction in the individualpess of his romantic destiny. The joy that had descended to bless him he fally believed no other man bad known. Bat for the most part, during these weeks, his dreams were dreamed alone, Daties and friends that Lorraine appeared to think important kept her from him, and when she was at home, Agues Hersey was, he resentfully pointed ons, always with her, urging sweet, superfluons services. Nor, when they were alone together, conld he fee! sure that her bappiness was not in some degree a simulation. But on one int he had no doubt : whatever the girl's fanciful fears and struggles might be, they would vanish from the time that he would have ber as his own. On the morning of the last day in March a quick, warm wind blew across the park, tered the hesitating Royce, and swept him, be persnaded himself, toward the oul iary hows. oo tine would be , but be, on the other band, was He found, however, that her con- { { “Is is 80 different,” she said in a thick, unnatural voice, *‘jumping from the end of a plank and being pushed over. One minds the violence so much, even though the end is jnst the same. Still, is wasn’t fair to me, that wind ; for in an hour or two more you would have known. | shonld have told you, Do one thing for me, I beg of you—try to helieve that this is true—that I should have told youn." Royce looked at her without answering. A faint listle smile came to her lips—a smile of scornful understanding. “Perhaps you will believe,’ she insisted, “after all. Then there is another thing that yon must know—that I did not mind it—all the lying—till you came. J enjoied it. It is such a delirious, delightful, | thing, though you will never know it, | always to play a part. Life seemed #0 tame without it. People were so wouder- fully easy to mavipulate, and they ap- planded me so. I loved the zest and the power. ‘Bus when you came, you spoiled so much for me. Life was different—isn’t it incredible ?—after the first time that I met you at poor listle Agnes Hersey's. It wasn't a bit dramatic any more. It was only—you. But lies are soch sticky, prickly things, so bard to get rid of ! If you try to get rid of them, they ges to be still more sticky and prickly ; they torture you all the time. There was soch a differ- ence, you see, hetween deceiving you and amuosing myself with the people who were there before. *‘I suppose that is seems simple enough to you what I should have done. I should bave told you and sent you away. Bas I wasn’t that kind of a woman then. I hadn’t loved you long enough. Ibad to wait until you gave me the strength, for I drank it in from you, Chiistopher, every day, the courage that I needed to cast you a ae al Se very happy. ' up in ing pasa, ready to be flong away, when this bappened—and your eyes bated me— I shall always see them—and the end of thiogs bas come.’’ Royoe had listened more and more in- you ? You don’t belong here and now.” “Oh, I think #0.” She found courage to smile as him. ‘““There is a race of us ; but we live obscurely. You would not have known me ; how shouald you recognize others? We are not evil. e¢ do no real barm. We may even give pleasure. I did—belore yon came.”’ “And since ?"’ *‘Oh, since then I don’t belong to the ancient race any more.”’ She shivered as though a cold wind bad come near her. “Will it he any satisfaction to you to know that you bave released me from that kin- ship ? Good-by—releaser. Yon will he able to forget all this. And I am able to pray that it may nos take too long.” But Royce was looking at her in a pew fascination. He :tammered and hesitated. “Oh that’s not like you !'’ she cried ous. “Not to feel that this is the end—that we could not go on, But I cannot talk about it any more. Yon must go—soon—now—"" Royce wens slowly tothe door. “It ien’t so easy to make an end,’”’ he said. “We've played with things that reach too deep—we both are going to know how deep,” he finished, und left ber. And she knew that it was not the end.—By Oliver Howard Dunbar, iv Century Magazine. It's a great deal easier to spend money than to get it. It's a great deal easier to lose the health than it is to recover is. It is not reasonable, therefore, to expect that a few doses of Dr. Pierce's Favorit: Pre- soription will undo the results of years of disease. But every woman who uses “Favorite Preseription’’ can ke sure of this : It always helps, it almost cures, Women who suffer with irregularity, weak- raine, inflammation, uloeration, or olay weakness, will find no help so sure, no oure so complete, as that follows the use of * ” oA straight line is the shortest in morals as in mathematics. i i lightedly watched the sudden emergence | but H wned | Spare chin “You will ol Here Lowney | olien, seen in Awericans of the Northern | Fear,—ah, now he! Professor Sloane, the biographer of Na. Century he describes the wau and his opinion of Washington : “You are doubtless an American,” said | there was uone in ber voice and | ® clear low voice. Steppivg a listle for- dium height in Prassian unilorm. Writing | to my friends at the time, I described him | | as having the clear cus feasures, full brows, | | wbrewd gray eyes, well-fashioned nose with | ward, [ saw a stender, erecs figare of me- | fall nostrils, expressive mouth and strong, | States. The expres