Bellefonte, Pa., August 19, 1910,
THE LAND OF YESTERDAY.
Would you not seek the country town
Amid green meadows nestled down
If youcould only find the way
Into the Land of Yesterday?
How you would thrust the miles aside,
Rush up the dear old lane, and then,
Just where her roses laughed in pride.
Find her among the flowers again!
You'd slip in quietly and wait.
Until she saw you by the gate,
Andthen * * * read through a blur of tears
Quick pardon for the selfish years.
This time, this time, you would not wait
For that brief wire that said, “Too late!”—
If you could only find the way
Into the Land of Yesterday.
You wonder if her roses yet
Lift up their heads and laugh with pride,
And if her phlox and mignonette
Have heart to bloom thereby their side;
You wonder if the dear old lane
Still chirps with robins after rain,
And if the birds and banded bees
Still rob her early cherry trees.
You wonder if you went back now
How everything wood seem, and how—
But no! not now; there isno way
Back to the Land of Yesterday.
—Don Marquis, in Putnam's Magazine.
THE DEVELOPMENT OF AUGUSTUS.
Blair was the assistant
Mr. Augustus
the Paxson Company.
It is per. Company.
cause when
office- suddenly
peared at the side of Tie desk Augustin
la Ng ne
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ts general manager, but
t your personal affairs in the city here
Jade it impossible for you toleave at that
me.”
“Yes, sir,” said Augustus, and he blush-
ed a little.
“When we built our mill on ht Note
e we again offered you a on as
mill manager and again you pleaded your
inability to get away.”
And as for the assistant secretary of
Paper Company, he blushed a
“We sent Drake up to run that Canada
mill, and he can’t keep it running up to
its capacity because of the difficulty in
ting labor. There are plenty of French
nadians up there, but first they work a
week and then lay off for two weeks, and
instead of turning out one hundred tons
of ‘news’ a day they are making less than
fifty. Drake writes that he is hopeless—
that he has tried eyorything he knows.
He wants us to send him two hundred
men from the States so he can d d
on them. If we did that we would have
to build houses and furnish them. We
might very well get into trouble with the
Canada government, too, to say nothing
of the time it would take. SoI'm going to
send you up there, Blair. You under-
stand?”
ga
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“Yes, sir.” said poor Augustus.
“You know how to talk to those people
in their own language; Drake doesn’t. I
leave to-morrow to make a tour of our
es. I shall arrive at the Notre
emill in a month, and when I get
there I expect to find it on full time. Do
anything you want, and spend anything
u want. Build a gymnasium or shower-
ths or—or anythi You have the
fullest authority, and I expect you to
act upon your own initiative entirely.”
He drew a letter-head from his drawer
and wrote:
“Mr. Augustus Blair has full authority
in the matter of keeping the Notre Dame
mill on full time.
“Any instructions that he may give are
to be followed without question.
SiLAs J. Paxson.”
“You will start at once,” said he.
“Yes, sir;"” said Augustus.
But he spoke without enthusiasm and
as one who is resigned to his fate.
“Or, as you may have some important
matters to finish up, let us say to-mor-
row.”
“Yes, sir!" said Augustus.
And this time he spoke with an enthusi-
asm that was almost infectious, and he
hurried back to his desk and took up
in his interrupted work on those
. ines 10 K.1L.C” lhe ale of a hasty
poet who is not only ng against
time, but against tempo as well.
“I'll tell you the trouble, Blair,” said
the Mr. Drake. “There
ere, but they won't work and
that’s all there is to it.
“I see,” said Augustus.
come till the money's gone,
don’t care much whether come
nek then.” they
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M'sieur.” i
plexioned cavalier
was wheeling rolls of paper on and off |
we ?" said Augustus.
r name i
TI" |
do you work?”
to buy
“He was
a
“Something of a shame!”
fy... its Soulething of a shame to
at ”»
For a ne Mr. Drake couldn't |
Mere Thery was knitting a pair of
woolen stockings when A
Suzanne, Celeste, and Louise-~were mak- |
ing butter under their mother’s directions.
Suzanne was sixteen and had brown
eyes. Celeste was seventeen and had a
figure like Diana. Louise was nineteen
and was blessed with blue eyes, a pug
nose, and a complexion like lillies and
“It is evident,” said Augustus,” that I
have come to the right place."
“And why, M'sieur?” asked Mere Thery,
answering his smile.
¢ use I am a poet, and a poet al-
ways needs his inspiration. These are
Madame's daughters? I could tell it from
looking at Madame.”
She told him their names and they
curtsied in simple fashion, but Augustus
saw that their eyes were fastened on the
brocade of his waistcoat and the weave
of his silk cravat.
“Suzanne,” he said, “I shall write you
a ballad. For Celeste I shall write a
Bunting song. For Louise I shall write a
chanson. We will sing it together, and
when I return home I will sing it to my
friends and tell them all about Suzanne
and Celeste and Louise and make them
insanely jealous!”
“M’sieur is from Quebec?” asked Mere.
“From New York.”
“Mon Dieu, M’sieur! Tell us about
NT York! id A filled |
“lit is” ugustus, “a city
with beautiful ladies. I will not say that
they are more beautiful than those of
Notre Dame, but their dresses—ah, their
it might bore you. They have horseless
wagons—"
“No, no; tell us about their dresses,
M'sieur!”
“They have, then,” said Augustus,
grand feathers on their hats—feathers
of the ostrich. White they are, and
lavender and blue and other colors to
match the dresses that are worn with
them. Suzanne would look magnificent
with Apreal black feather swaying in her
hat. t is your favorite color,Celeste?”
al is blue, NM slour.” feel t
“Then two large sweeping plumes o
blue would most become you, and for
Louise I would select a white and a
charming shade of pink. Their dresses,”
continued A “are of silk and are
trimmed wi ornaments, particularly
with gold braid at the present time.
Their stockingsare of silk and their little
wish you could see them!"
And it is difficult to say who looked at
him the most intently, Mlle. Suzanne,
Mile. Celeste, Mlle. Louise, or Madame
Thery herself.
“But 300) You it able to fee do
yourselves,” ugustus at last, *
this afternoon I leave for New York, and
when I return I shall have a very beauti-
ful lady with me. It is on that matter
that I have called to see Madame. They
say that sometimes Madame has a room
or two to spare. Could she let me have
two rooms upon my return?”
Mo hl impose Va Cari
m ‘welcome, Mlle.
Mile. elests, Mile. Louise, or Madame
“And Madame will have them aired
snd 8 great fire burning if the day is
With what assuredness!
“And I wish you'd have the show-win-
dows of the company’s store cleaned out
while I am away,” said to the
more than ever Mr. Drake.
prea shame to it, isn’t it?”
asked embittered general manager.
“What's a shame?”
“Why, tc do anything to make them
“Drake, old man,” said slow-
assure you that I never felt more
ly, “©
guilty in all my
| Besides, Mr. Paxson
there is a dance : said
ugustus rapped
upon the door. Her three daughters— ly
dresses! I will not describe them because | the
a = window ooking
over the great city that softly
around her. It was here that Augustus
situation, and
could do it just like
kindly give me room enough '
such a carte blanche as Mr. |
with. |
he may gi :
Why, Kit, it wouldn't hap- i
out question.
this way again in B dndreq Yeors
“ said Katherine, thought-
fully, “if you were to give me instruc- |
tions—"
“That's it!" cried Augustus; "Ido! I
instruct you to do this!
“Then, of course, I couldn't
{
n to do |
it," said Katherine. “I should like to see |
myself!" :
“Any one would like to see you, dear. i
ve me to under-
stand that I stand or fall by this. I have |
he added, |
is |
ie to
show what I am worth, but in order to do |
but if I cannot ;
have your help until I have shown my |
worth—dear me! Katherine!"
“Augustus!"
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“Why won't you go?” !
“I haven't said 1 Bona, have I? But
Lent Sink you have pleaded enough;
u
“ a you will Jove te Das, too,"
ugustus, cunn eading.
“Who are the Therysi~ 8
a man, and
like a queen.
has flashing eyes." |
‘They seem te be rather accomplished |
-
ise. She has tha
. e that sau
you know. Dear Katherine!
i”
“Of course I would have to get a whole
lot of things—"
“Katherine!”
“And it is romantic—rather.”
“Katherine!”
She turned to him—a little unsteadily !
per! nd though her head was bend-
ed low, she held him very ti htly to her.
love you,” she trembled, raising her
face at last. |
“I love you,” repeated Augustus, sober- |
“Now and always.”
“Now and always."
“Until death do us part.”
“Until death—do us part.”
A bright fire was burning in Madame
Thery’s spare room, but brighter yet was
the fire that burned in the eyes of Mes-
demoiselles Suzanne, Celeste, and Louise
as they helped Katherine unpack the six
great trunks that had accompanied her
to Notre Dame.
“Regardes-tu les bas de soie!” exclaim- |
ed Suzanne in an undertone to Celeste.
“Do you like them?” asked Katherine.
She pulled one of them over her long |
white arm. Of a ravishing design they
were—these bas de soie—and ravishing
were the cries of delight of the three
Mesdemoiselles.
“And the shoes!” cried Celeste.
There were slippers of blue and of
bronze and the darkest of green—there
were slippers of kid and patent leather
and suede—exquisite little shoes with the
most coquettish little toes and heels
imaginable. “These,” said Katherine,
picking up a pair of the blues, "are for
dances and parties. Do you ever go to |
Sarces Celeste? Would you like to wear |
them?" |
“There is,” said Celeste, breathlessly,
- dance—tomorrow night—at St. Quen-
n—" i:
“I must find, then, for you," said Kath-
erine, “that blue silk dress with the blue
Silke lace, and Celeste shall be the belle of
Deep sighs burst from the breast of
Milles. Suzanne and Louise as the blue
silk dress was unwrapped from the tissue
paper.
“We will
“and see wha
joy.
with pleasure when the blue silk was
fitted on her, and two pink Spots sudden
ly appeared on Suzanne's when
she saw the white net dress with
es.
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made, | ture? Back to 8 Con igh
re | the hardest post you can
i
they found Augustus trimming the
window with rolls of silks and satins.
“Tomorrow,” said Mr. Drake to Au-
as they walked from the store to
| the mill a fortnight later, “our esteemed
president,” said Augus-
tus, “will find his mill running on full
time.”
Madame Disiere aproached on the other
side of the street. t00, wore a new
hat, and in her hand she carried a new
hand-bag. She met Madame Barthou
chatted for a moment, studying
each ot
As she talked
buttoning her
swung her little hand-bag to and fro.
“Full time and running over,” said Mr.
Drake. “We turned out one hundred and
twelve tons of ‘news’ yesterday, and that,
il
hou fi
I wish to say, is going some.
ademoiselle Dupont smiled at them
as they passed. Mademoiselle was dress-
ed in a new plaid gown with gold buttons.
Her shoes were the work of the local cob-
bler and she tried to hide them with her
dress.
“Do you notice,” said Augustus, “that
there is not a man in sight?’
Three little gitle walked past. One
wore 2 scarlet silk hzir-ribbon and the
other two were devouring it with hungry
“A good reason why,” said Mr. Drake;
They turned in at the mill. Drake en-
tered the office, but Augustus went to the
finishing room and smiled pleasantly at
n.
“At work again, Leon?” he asked.
"At work again, M'sieur.
“There are no dances this week?”
“It is ek that, Meier, ou I need the
money—ah, so m money!”
» why do you need so much money,
I need new clothes, M'sieur, and shirts
with collars and those neckties of red.
My Marie wishes that I have new clothes
to dance with her when she wears her
een said 4
"And you, Jules,” ugustus, stop-
ping in the grinding-room by the side of
the ueeyed giant, “you are still at
wor
“Yes, M'sieur.”
"And your new gun—you have not
used ijt?’
“I have not bought it.”
“And why have you not bought it,
Jules?”
“It is my wife, M'sieur—my Jeannette.
She a new cape and a new dress."
“But it is a pleasant day in the woods,
Jules, and the salmon, I hear, are leaping
in the falls.”
“Ah!” sighed Jules. He looked out of
the window and over the woods. “But
not today, M'sieur," he sighed again.
“Nor ever again, I fear,” thought Au.
gustus, sadly. He watched the pensive
giant at the grindstone.
“I wonder—" said Jules, hesitating.
A tus waited. ‘
“—if tonight—"
“Yes, Jules?”
“I wonder if tonight I might overtime,
M'sieur.”
Mr. Paxson had never looked so much
like Santa Claus as on the next day when
he listened to his assistant secretary's re-
| “they're all at work.”
“So you woke them up, Blair, did you?”
“Yes, sir,” said Augustus. He walked
to the window and looked over to where
St. Quentin’s snowy top stood out in
majesty over the woods.
“Introduced a few complexities into
their simple life—what?”
“Yes, sir,” said Augustus. “It was
somewhat expensive, as my assistant had
to buy a lot of things. There's a list on
the desk there.”
“Mmm!” read the president. “One
blue silk dress, one white net ditto, one
peach blossom ditto, one dozen pairs slip-
pers, one travelling dress, two dozen pairs
silk—Mimm!—one dozen assorted Wy
one -colored velvet dress, one wine-
colored ditto—trust a woman to get up a
list like this—one dozen pairs shoes, one
wedding-ring— Hello! One wedding-ring!
What was that for?”
“That,” said Augustus, “was a com-
plexity that I have introduced into my
own simple life.”
“M: rr"
uranyl
“Blair, I congratulate you. It was the
one thing you needed.”
They shook hands with a grasp that
was very near to affection.
“And what are r plans for the fu-
again?”
“Mr. Paxson,” said Augustus, “I want
the most money," he
and in his heart he gently, sternl
led a rhyme to death.—By George Wes.
ton, in Harper's Weekly.
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and Madame Disiere | ©
a anecdote of one
of the poaching ancedoss of gue
lost his part hecause he had grown too
old to it adequa
“Sad as was the pv of the committee,
it was plain—and they so explained it to
Mayr—that he was no longer
enough for the part; that the
strea with gray was no longer suited
to the youthfui Jesus; that the face which
had hitherto borne the lofty, almost su-
perhuman expression of the Divine had
now become too seamed with the fur-
rows of years to show the sacredness of
sorrow without its scars in one whose
earthly life measured only a span of 30,
s millinery intently the while. |”
Madame i
ears.
“Mayr broke down and wept like a
hild
“I know,” he said, ‘that I am too old
for the part; but I had so hoped that you
might still have left me Christus.’
“As some compensation he was given
the role of Prologist, created expressly
for ind i a a Sele | later he
was u t i $
but he never recovered the he vio;
Christus. Three years later, when or-
dered to Munich for a surgical operation,
he spent his last hours before leaving
home out at the theater building, alone.
He never returned from Munich hospital.
Into the beyond he carried the wound in
his heart still unhealed.”
The Judas of 1910 is now 69 years old,
but he does not look, feel, or act his age.
On account of his years, however, he had
hardly to be chosen again; but
his remarkable impersonation of the be-
trayer the committee that none
other than the ter Johann Z
should fill the role. As Judas his
personality becomes that of the JDatray.
er. An American woman once
me:
“‘I wouldn't meet that man for any-
thing! I don't ever want to see him
again. That he is a
ly sure. It is all so real!’
Do You Know.
What the name of Ohio signifies?—
' Beautiful River.
What the name of Missouri signifies?—
MySay Wer f Michigan signifies?
t the name o gan
—Great Lake.
What the mane of Florida signifies?— |
Blooming.
What the name of lowa signifies?—
Drowsy Ones.
What the name of Wisconsin signifies?
—Gathering of Waters.
What the name Minnesota signifies? —
Cloudy Water.
wat the name Oregon signifies—Wild
ram.
t the name of Kansas signifies?—
Smoky Water.
What the name of Nebraska signifies?
—Water Valley.
What the name of Vermont signifies?
~—Green Mountain.
What the name of Kentucky
signifies?
—Dark and Bloody Ground.
High Prices.
One of these days an aviator will es-
tablish a world's record by soaring six
inches higher than the cost of living.
There is only one thing lacking to make
the summer of 1910 a lifelong memory,
and that is an ice famine.
While the high cost of living is not re-
ceiving much public attention just at
present, the man who pays the bills has
not forgotten it.
slanThe Covernment Somatee | that Fi
one do damage to crops, ns,
and other things to the amount of $100,-
000,000 a year.
A Weary Celebrity.
When Mrs. Roger A. Pryor was a
Va., visiting authors seldom reached
the beautiful university town. “Thack-
eray, Dickens and Miss Martineau
passed us by,” says Mrs. Pryor in her
book entitled “My Day—Reminiscences
of a Long Life.” But Frederika Brem-
er condescended to spend a night with
her compatriot, Baron Schele de Vere
of the university faculty, on her way
to the south.
Schele de Vere invited a choice com-
pany to spend the one evening Miss
Bremer granted him. Her works were
extremely popular with the unversity
circle, and every one was on tiptoe of
pleased anticipation.
While the waiting company eagerly
expected her the door opened—not for
Miss Bremer, but for her companion,
who announced:
“Miss Bremer, she beg excuse. She
ver’ tired and must sleep. If she come
she gape in your noses.”
Funerals In England.
At the time of Queen Victoria's fu-
neral a writer in the Undertakers'
Journal complained that, while royal
burals were still conducted in an im-
pressive manner, a sad lack of cere-
monial distinguished the funerals of
the nobility. “Item after item has
been abandoned, idea after idea has
been dropped, each meaning a distin: t
loss to our business. An undertaker
in the west end, referring to the re-
cent death of a noble iord, confided to
me: ‘Forty years ago I buried a mem-
of that family, and the funeral bill
to £1,250 (£6,250). Ten years
buried another, when it came
over £700 ($3,500). Fifteen
ago I buried a third, at a cost of
but the bill for this one
£75 ($375, Ig”
Origin of a Famous Saying.
Euclid, who is sometimes called the
mathematics, taught this
the famous school at Alex-
Being asked one day by the
Egypt (Ptolemy Soter) whether
him the science in
way, Euclid answered in
that have been memorable ever
is no royal rcad to
Not many scraps of conver-
sation have lived, as this reply has, for
4
later
to
Judas t am perfect-
young woman living in Charlotteville, |
mult, as
he
indi, :
{i ® , Harry, and
“Hush,” answered
an egg.”
y with us.”
arry, "I'm laying
Cleanliness of Ants.
No creature is more tidy than an ant,
who cannot tolerate the presence of dirt
, on her body. These little creatures act.
‘ually use a number of real toilet articles
in keeping themselves clean. A well-
known authority says their toilet articles
consist of coarse and fine-toothed combs,
hair brushes, sponges, and even washes
and soap. Their saliva is their liquid
soap, and their soft are the gen-
uine article and differ from ours mainly
in that they are fastened to their legs.
The ants have no set time for their toi-
let operations, but stop and clean up
WHeneyer they get soiled.—St. Nicholas.
| Training of Dogs.
| Whatever may be the merits o
spirited controversy between the fish
game £ommiseioners on the one
many hundred
owners on the hh
law to restrain dogs from running
large in this there are
‘' mental facts
-
, strong and as ineradicable as the
| Keep him under close restraint and the
i brute in him will be uppermost. Allow him
| reasonable liberty and discipline him sen-
| sibly and justly and the human in him
will appear. For freedom is the soil, in
which all virtues, both human and canine,
thrive best.—Boston Globe.
|" The poor dog, in life the irmest friend
! The first to welcome, the foremost to defend:
Whose honest heart is still his master’s own,
Who labors, fights, lives, breathes for him alone.
Byron.
Milking in Porto Rico.
i An American civil ineer who had
. been for some time in 0 Rico tells a
| story of the way cows are milked on that
lisland. The native cow is small, docile
| and humble, with very little spirit. The
i engineer computed that their was more
| mischief in one Porto Rican goat than in
| two dozen of the cows. His tale is re-
| ported in the Chicago News.”
| It was just as their creat-grandfathers
todo. The cow was driven up to a
| post, and a rope thirty feet long was used
| to tie her head so that she could not
move it an inch. Then each leg was
{ made fast to another post, and then the
poor cow was so hard and fast that she
| could only switch her tail and flap her
j ears. When the man finally sat down to
imik he used only cne hand. After
observing the performance to the end
I asked:
“Does your cow kick?”
"Not that I know of, senor,” he re-
{| “Did you ever try "to milk her without
| tying her up.”
| ba, no!”
| “Well let me try the American way on
this other cow.”
| The second cow was loose, and I sat
! down and milked two-handed and had
| her finished in seven or eight minutes.
She stood like a rock. When I had fin-
| ished there were a dozen people around,
| and as I handed over the pail they raised
| their voices and cried out in chorus:
“Ha! Isit any wonder that the Ameri-
canos licked Spain!
But as I passed the place again the next
evening the cows were tied up as before.
| Their way was a hundred years old, and
i mine entirely new to them.
Wedding Superstitions.
Though popular superstitions may lack
reason or reasonable explanation, they
must have an origin, and this has formed
the basis of quite an interesting book by
T. Sharper a says the London
Daily Mah
question of the wedding sing and
why it should be placed on the fourth
finger of the left hand he traces back to
a writer in the Britisi: Apollo (1708.)
“There is nothing more in this,” it is
down oat 3 t from ml
to
ar the left hand
more convenient for such ornaments than
Height, in that it is ever less employed;