Bellefonte, Pa., July 29, 1910. EE ——————————————————— AMONG OURSELVES. IF WE ONLY KNEW. Could we but draw back the curtains That surround each other's lives. See the naked heart and spirit, Know what spur the action gives, Often we should find it better, Purer than we judge we should; ‘We would love each other better 1f we only understood. Could we judge all deeds by motives, See the good and bad within, Often we should love the sinner All the while we loathe the sin. Could we know the powers working To o'erthrow integrity, We should judge each other's errors With more patient charity. If we knew the cares and trials, Should we help where now we hinder? Should we pity where we blame? Ah! we judge each other harshly, Knowing not life's hidden force; Knowing not the fount of action Is less turbid at its source. Seeing not amid the evil All the golden grains of gold; Oh! we'd love each other better gEge a8 IH g the way the forest creatures do, for very joy of life and living." John Douglas, the practical, smiled at her indulgently. “I'm afraid there's a deep vein of senti- ment under that gvery Sav common sense of yours, Nell,” he sai “It's well to name it m common sense. John, out w we live anything else wouldn't do.” Then she looked suddenly wistful, her brows wrink- ling. "And you?" she asked. “Is there no vein of deeper feeling to be stirred at that," and she pointed toward the glori- ous western sky, “or this?" with a sweep of her arm toward the valley lower down —their valley. : He hesitated, and it seemed as if a slight flush rose to the lean brown cheeks. He looked atjthe golden splendor in the west, at the dimpling, laughing earth beneath them and then into her face,pale, clear, with its sensitive lips and delicate nostrils. “Judge me,” he said, and the quiver in his voice matched her own. "For I have been lost in dreams—asking myself if the world grows new for such as we; won- dering if thisis the first sun that has ever ven light; or if this is the close of the t magnificent day, and we the first man and woman, unspoiled, fresh from the Maker's hand, gazing down on the Vision unveiled!” She said nothing, but the little wistful curve between her brows disappeared suddenly and the finelips grew tremulous. To her, indeed, the world seemed every-day and she drew a long, d breath, stand- i: silently, quietly, de him. The den glow took a tinge, and on the ts looked from slope to hol- low, from wooded side to placid lake, from cool stretches of green to the wild ver- dure clothing the opposite hills. Here were rest contentment. “We will go away,” and I, each to we will bruise oursel JE i 7s ! i ii iz re- £ | Wi if 1 have no other tale to tell.” ohn!” “Will you let me try to tell you how I feel about it?” He slackened his pace. “Yes, Ne.ll “It is my mother’s opposition that cannot s it, John! “Evidently—since that is the only udice, that strong will dich So: vi me. “I also am .willed and determin- ed and prejudiced, John.” " “I'm afraid that’s true, Nell. every one of my “I can't see any faults in Nell.” “It's good, then, to be hte, traits? In as Same: even in expression looks, for has always been beautiful) I am my mother’s counterpart.” “Well?” ; “And while I do not say that she is right now or that ey pie against marriage is an but the outcome of a mother’s fi fears, I shall never tell her so. For as I am, she was. And as she is, I may be. I would not want my children to me when | grew old in the care of and Sf ehaly mt oppose her. You must have patience 3 “Preach patience if you will, dear girl. While you preach it, it must be my “But I want you to be satisfied—" “What nonsense, Nell!" “In time—" “In time, in time! How long? Set me a definite time. A year—two have waited three years now, my home and Rell, for woman in the for me. But do not “The same old story, Nell. Forgive me ty now—he can take “Please, ! ! what is past and gone. “ied. ¥ wish J cone make you under- other and | lips closed | tled hersel | Clarke, her sweet, old, care-worn face gt ob- : How to overcome that iron prej- | Eleanor, to dare your unresponsiveness. which has slipped | Yet you cannot conceal your real sent even if you: ments from me, and because I know them, | and because I have felt the trouble bur- | with “I know faults. My | puly hope is that faults are sometimes i tions of possible good. Don’t you | each other. think so?” | thing to have ly. “You have been my safety valve too the conruge of one's convicyons, and all | long. Who knows all that you do—my that. Buf from whom have I inherited | only i i i ! who is very ured, | bly hard, even cruel, if you will , come out young and | with any j i will wait ten, | then, a smile of deprecation, twenty, if I must, for you are the only not dilate say ‘in time., I can't stand anything so! as that. there is er practical his every word. For the first time her ; —even tho sweet voice faltered i “How hard it is!” she said. "I wish I knew how it would end—I wish I knew some arguments to move her. But, oh, John!” Her soft brown eyes sought his face, appealingly. “She is my mother— Shs as cated for we-sq. Jongeioe tess ty-four long years. You love me for what she has made me, John. You see it, don't you, dear? To snatch at my own happiness without t of her— Oh, John, I cannot. It be brutal. My valley of paradise would seem a val- ley of discord—and I don’t want a shad- ow, not a single shadow ever to linger above it.” “You have loved her dearly, Nell.” "Have loved?” “ ive me that—I did not mean it. But Nell, Nell, if through her—Ilet us su this now—if through her you ooked upon our valley of paradise the last time in our lives, what then?” She lifted her grave, sweet face to his. The red lips were tremulous, the delicate nostrils quivered. "What then?” she echoed, slowly. "It would snap my life in two. I do not mean that I would lose my grip on things —] am too strong, too ambitious for that. But there would be no future for me. Yet—I would not blame her, John. I feel she does not comprehend.” He hesitated a minute. “She was happily married to a man,” he said. * idolized her hus- for oh | BZ 14 3 Nell it Septived them of a few comforts for a g “That's over two years ago, isn't it?” Nl es - " "yi “ 've heard nothing since? ‘ iy To tell you the truth, Juli- et, I want to hear nothing. Tom is twen- care of himself. I am not a foolish mother to grieve over 1 have closer worries." There was silence. Mrs. Northrop's in a straight line and she set- f back in her chair. Juliet grave, put her cup and saucer on table that stood between them. “One has to know you as well as I do, dening you, | wanted to have this chat you.” She spoke so gently that the proud woman could take no offense. She look- ed at her affectionately—for they loved should I wish to conceal any- you, Juliet?” she asked quiet- confidant? And now you have ing to say to me—a lecture to read perhaps? Let me haveit. We may be interrupted. “I like—John Douglas, Eleanor.” Mrs. Winthrop winced. Her friend : had put an unerring finger upon an open | wound. “Oh, you do? Then you like some one eeable to me.” your objection is not to the individu- “Not at all." Her grave face relaxed, she pushed the teacups farther on the “I know what you want to say, But Nell is myself. I see myself I, too, had her high hopes and upon a time. My hus- can't go through the fires of isery ul, or even oper. « smiled “I need on my experience—you've had own. Yoo said Juliet Clarke slowly, happiness somewhere. It is not common sense seconded for us to forbid the drinking of the cup! lurks in the lees.” in a sharp voice. precious. M: ret will never suffer— she has not the capacity for suffering. her beautiful dreams—I can't bear to let her go, Juliet.” Her friend nodded wisely. will. It is your duty.” “It is not!” Mrs. Northrop exclaimed —and now one saw the glow Beneath the “Yet you into face and eyes. “It is not!" “Eleanor, Eleanor!” said Juliet Clarke, matching the flame with pitying tender- ness. “It is just as much your duty to let her Bo as it was and is your duty to Shield eir father's failings from his chil- ren. “Juliet, what are you saying?” Mrs. Northrop's lips quivered, her nails were pressed into her cold palms. “Just as much!” repeated her friend solemnly. “Some of us must pay-—some one must pay. The dead cannot—the yo will not—but there are those who stand between who must. You are one of these, Eleanor, and just or unjust, the debt is yours. You contracted it when you gave birth to that child who is your Secend self. Flow ou heart was tramp- on, your fin ngs outraged, know and I know, my dear. Wil 2 flict your suffering on another? You've the test nobly so far, and before Nell and Margaret and Tom and all the N|world Francis Northrop was the ideal father, the idolizing husband. And you would put part of thissacrifice on Nell—" “To save her!" rs oJ Joo gentle mentor, 3 you t, as you will by ing hi marriage, you lose everything and gain nothing. The mother rose to her feet, her breast heaving. “I lost everything when I lost her,” said in a tone. “The sharer of all I lost them before and Tom came. n Sometimes Margarat is% beautiful—it will to for her lack of heart. : : “Poor, foolish lad!" said Juliet Clarke. “Had he dared to come and fling himself at his mother’s feet, it might never have rs. Northrop stared at her resent- “ 't get , Eleanor. I dare to A trie one else in this me for my bravery. You are jealous of Nell’s Jove, Nels Sion: 3m yon = t you are to save y that a mother never comes into the true of her 's heart until that daughter is herself a wife and mo if knew what ou as if you about," said Eleanor Noth. did not live,” said Juliet Clarke, i #1 But Nell, my Nell, with her high ideals, | for the gift I mean to give and | flashed into it. | i | “but | and he seemed to i ‘ i | 80 to kiss the little “Good evening, lately—noa| chimnge of tone, “Mother, don't sick and dizzy. over here wherel can have a look at you? | careful about at You, too, Mr. Douglas.” | John Do | Nell's han 1 was forced to come to her,” sa “You Jong folks keep her Vi e minutes with | min And now that I've caught | mer. a glimpce of you, Nell, I'll take myself. Ne bent from her greater height: lady's soft, pink cheek. Mr. Douglas. Haven't noticed your card among those received pologies! I understand. Good- e, Eleanor.” “Good-bye, Juliet.” Nell looked after her, amused, smiling. FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN. DAILY THOUGHT. | edge on what remains of agreeable. This is a | great truth, and has to be learned in the fire.— when next autumn comes A bother, you say? Of course. Did you ing fresh that wasn't a bother? And it is not half as hard as spesding time 2nd money later getting over the ef- fects of sun-burnt hair. Too strong a dose of sun acts on the hair by drying natural oils in the scalp “She is just like a dainty little bird that | scorches linen. | ! ¢ If it is impossible for you to wear a hat, | tection against cold rains and should be ou see John?" “Yes,” said Mrs. Northrop, quietly. see him.” She sat down in the little in some unaccountable manner has lived | to grow old,” she said. And then, with a | oil must be rubbed a slight embarrassment: | scalp, to counteract this | women of Brittany, who keep their heads | 5; arly into the ing effect. | AWord to the Summer Girl.—Do you ! erly cured is a good substitute for e want streaked hair of seventeen different Mrs. Clarke, smiling into the girl's inter- | around? ested face. so busy I never have her any more. | | =—The | is less lial t It utilize: food better, and gives more | milk, considering its bodily weight. Goats and then burning, just as a hot Ratiron | FARM NOTES. —The United States and Russia togeth- er own about one-half the horses in the 21,000,000 head. Fodder corn is the fi the man who milks a uae wl age. The silo, , saves all the | feed and the cows relish the bet- | ter because it is more stage If you do not, you must make up your | to wear a hat during the sum-| —Tests made by the Wisconsin Ex- iment Station show that Yorkshire vs require the least amount of food for ever know anything connected with keep- | 100 pounds of gain of either Poland Chinas or Berkshires. Common stock hogs made the smallest gains and ate the least food. t, because of its hardy natu to tuberculosis aed a . prefer hilly ground, and do not do so well on low, swampy ground. They need pro- well housed Remember that the most beautiful ir —The herd at the Ontario (Canada) “I | in the world comes from the peasant | rocker somewhat heavily, for she felt covered with their little white caps. “Will vou both come Wondering a little, the young man obeyed, drawing Nell's chair forward. Nell, with her eyes fastened ! One of the thin, she can. She wants to leave off artificial dubiously on | tresses and give nature a chance to do her mother’s face, saw thatshe was deep- | its work. ly moved, as she bent near and took the girl's hand in hers. “Where were you today?” she asked. ' extent lengthen walk bring you?” | broken ends, promote a new growth and her eyes brighten- | cure dandruff. “Where did your long Nell hesitated, ed. She did not look at her lover as she answered in a low tone that quivered in | chance for life duri spite of her efforts to control it: “In the valley of paradise, mother,” she | bareheaded and f a woman walks | healthy. said, “the velley that avery : in at one time of her life, I think.” “Yes,” said the mother slowly. have walked in that valley—but I left it behind me very, very long ago, Nell, and it is not mine to see again.” ; She faltered, and her lovely face, with its few fine wrinkles and unfurrowed | learn by forehead seemed to old and wan. “I have been a little blind,” whispered | of Eleanor Northrop. “I have been told so, and I think it is the truth. But I want to do right—I must do right. John Douglas, what have you to offer me in exchar you—my girl? “Nothing,” he answered slowly, but his face startled her with the happiness that “I could not see a value on that gift—it is above value.” “True!” She gazed straight before her an instant, her brows meeting. “Well, I've decided, John. I think you are aon man.” Her eyes sought his steadily, looking into Nell's without their trusting confidence; Nell's eyes which had seen much misery we know what poison and had wept many tears, Nell's eyes shadowed by pain and sorrow. Some- “I will not let Nell risk it—and with | thing stirred in his heart, something that Nell I can prevent it," said Mrs. Northrop | seemed striving to make itself heard from “She is too dear, too | her soul to his. But he could not under- stand—not yet. “She will give you her true, noble heart. See that you never doubt the ft. She will forgive you all, everything, | t | | i Air and sun do an immense amount of good to the scalp. If indulged in to any they renew the lustre, It is not natural air is too cold for one to go about the artificial air is not months, that the work of rejuvenation “1, too, | should be done. Women who know this method of put- ting their hair back into good condition are enthusiastic about it. Women who do not know it should begin at once to It is quite easy to get ng the hair that wil! allow one to do without all or most of the false It shoul be left quite loose cap or without one. Whe around the house and not in evidence to callers or acquaintances the hair be left down. This latter habit should be indulged in most of the day during the hot weather, especially when one is negli in one’s room. : t should be brushed for ten minutes before one dresses for dinner or retires for the night. The brush should be wash- every day. If it has a coating of dust ir. The slowly. “Some da u will know what | experts on scalp treatment say that the that means, jease’ L Some day you | first coating of dust should be washed off will realize the consecration of the "first- the brush at once and the brushing re- the cold exterior as it flamed | born! She rose and moved toward the door. las, leani forward, took in his and held them tightly. The mother looked back—at the girl, half-turned toward her, gazing after her, wondering, a little saddened; at the man, rapturous, happy, his eyes aglow, fasten- ed on Nell’s lowered head. “God grant that you may walk long in the vall said, i of paridise, my children,” she so passed out of the room, leav- them alone.—By Grace Keon, in oman's Home ion. Principle of Air Flight. From Francis Arnold Collin’s “A New Sport for Boys" in August St. Nicholas. instant, or the skater come toa stand- still, and the ment will be at an end for that day at least. § 5 ; : § g g g nciple. i dust’s, a noted restaurant on Park row that was a favorite resort of ac- tors and literary men. It usually hap- pened that Forrest would be joined by friends and that the little group would sit together at one table. On one occa- sion it chanced that an Englishman with a reputation for conceit and im- pertinence, who had scraped acquaint. ance with the tragedian, was one of the group. Early in the course of the dinner the began to make criticisms which he considered pleasantries about Forrest's conception of certain roles. Encouraged by bis own appreciation, he gave full play to his humor and concluded each of his impertinences with “Pardon my freedom, sir—it's my low | as possible. When. however, the nuts were brought in by the waiter be took several cracked walnuts in his hand and, walking over to the Britons snapped ut lack of trust—for this daughter is of | ¢d / my own heart, my first-born,” she said it, it carries it back into the hair next fall wear hats that do not need false hair beneath them, omit false hair whenever it is possible, let the hair hang down for at least an hour or two every 8 and sleep with it unbraided at night. From the age of five or six onward to sixteen years and later the most impor- tant thing in the world for boys and girls is to eat nourishing food and plenty of it. This is a period of rapid growth, and a child must eat enough, not only for the wear and tear of the day, but to lay down material for building up the body. People used to think that children should be made to control their appetite and be compelled to eat things they y | disliked. But it is now admitted by many medical autborities that a child's great difficulty is to eat and digest enough ood. If the quantity is stinted, if the food is for an | not of the proper kind, if the intervals between meals are too long, then neither body nor brain will develop as they In selecting food for children of this is their own palate. ian has laid down l § i th 23d A 5 i + a girl should be most is season of the year | | is giving her hair a good vacation. She te most butter | wants to give it sun and air as much as | r ble to give one’s hair this | and 524 the winter. The | on the It is now, during these summer | hold of a method | Experiment Farm consists of the three leading daily breeds, the Holsteins, Ayr- res and Jerseys. The record of the | breeds last year shows that the Holsteins uced the most milk, the A from the experience of two years. —In testing several breeds of cows the Virginia Experiment Station found that in profits on milk the Holsteins led with | $4.92 per individual per month; the ! grades were second with $4.27. a + mon ve of mi 247 pounds of butter. The profit milk was $201.05, and on the but- ter $41.51. —Poor pastures do not pay for the son that it is to the interest of | er that hiscows secure an | food at the i food on the 7 Sw 3888 | fed on | will fall off | on'the pasture fails, | | | feeding young —Corn has been grown at the Virginia Experiment Station continuously on one plot since 1894, with an average yield since 1900 of 24.4 bushels per acre. Ina three-year rotation of wheat, clover and corn the corn yield has averaged 45.2 bushels per acre since 1900, showing a difference of over 21 bushels increase, due solely to rotation. Where the land was manured at the rate of about eight tons per acre in a five-year rotatation of wheat, timothy and clover hay, pasture, oats and corn, the corn yield has averag- ed 60.8 bushels per acre. —The dairy population of the United States is about 21,000,000, or one cow to every five people. The average yield, ac- cording to official figures, is only about 3500 pounds a year, or, roughly, five quae a day on the average. It is figured t each person in the country eats about 20 pounds of butter each year. Very little butter is imported. Each person takes only four pounds of cheese of the domestic product. Condensed milk is a somewhat localized incustry, about three- fourths of it coming from New York and Illinois, where more than half of the con- densers are located. The yearly output is about 250,000,000 pounds. —Wheat at the Minnesota Ex- periment tion continuously on the same plot since 1894 shows an average yield of 18.6 bushels per acre since 1900. Grown in the three-year rotation since 1900, the average yield has been 20.6 bushels per acre. No manure being giv- ot, the increase must be charged alone to rotation, the seed and other con- ditions being substantially the same. In a five-year rotation, with manure well a plied, covering the same period, the yie has averaged 26.6 bushels per acre, and the conclusion at the station is that more grain can be grown in three of ro- tation than in four years of continuous cropping. —State Zoologist H. A. Surface, in re- to a t for a remedy for and lice in little chickens, wrote as “This disease is due to little worms in which come from the
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