Bewseraif acon Bellefonte, Pa., August 26, 1910. Is IT WORTH WHILE? Is it worth while to see youth's visions fade, High hopes and great ambitions droop and die, To see the friends we trusted pass us by And love itself prove powerless or afraid? Is it worth while to live when steps grow slow, And frost shows white upon the soft, bright hair. ‘While the swift, unseen life tides onward bear Our barks to havens which we may not know? Ah, yes—while still one hand holds fast your own In love or friendship through the flying years, ‘While day and night harmonious chords intone, And roses bloom when happy June appears, ‘While to the snows the pines refuse to bend, Life is well worth the living—to the end. Ninette M. Lewater. that was vaguely di liad venlrired. © ask “Will you have the " he de- manded, all in a breath, but with the mildest intonation, “to tell a sufferin’ , even before him for a few days’ x be} Bat some in ’ choose where you ou have the habit.” i So I closed with him, and a couple of hours later, after I had pitched my easel and umbrell i i sung from ness. My work went » Smoothly and aly 2nd fhe oon spent in or er bits and corners of Jromperin could use was delightful. But from the moment I returned to the house for supper the face of things alter- ed. I was beset with a curious restless- ness, which went far to spoil what other- wise had been a perfect day. Did you ever amuse yourself by fancying that your shadow was alive—a friendly com- panion who shared Jour good times! That is all very well, but unfortunately the shadow sometimes becomes a haunt- ing bogey. Well, hardly had I come back to Brace's house before I became con- scious that this latter sort of shadow thing was near me every moment. And, what was worse, I never saw it. During supper I could feel a burning pair of eyes on me. Later, I was surethat somebody or something was looking in at the key- hole of my little bedroom; and when I tore open the door to catch him, I could swear that the spy or the shadow had just whisked out of sight round a corner or up-stairs to the attic. In the middle of the night I woke from a most horrid dream to catch a glimpse, as I thought in my half daze, of a shape which slipped noiselessly across the porch roof and down a pillar. Brace heard the tale of my fancies with a laugh. “Haanted, eh!” he cried. “Guess you've got a not-fit-to-be-mention- ed bad conscience, ain't you? There ain't no ghosts here, not unless you brought ‘em.” “Sure?” I asked, lightly; and to my ise the man blazed up in red anger. i "You didn’t see nor hear nothin’,” he insisted, then laughed again, and went off into a long rambling account of himself and his fortunes, perhaps to divert my overstrained attention. I grew interested enough to hazard the guess that at some time or other he had followed the sea, such is the mark the forecastle leaves on a man forever. “Think so?” he grunted. "Wal, there was a mate on three or four tramp steam- ers. ‘Specially on the Sagamore. Oh there was a plenty good mate on her. Epeakin' of which and all, ain't it 'most time for you to get out 'n’ art some?" “You're right, Mr. Brace." And Istood up. He followed my example instantly. “Say,” he confided, lowering his voice. “I didn’t mean to be cross just now. But, my beloved brother, don't—don't go round sayin’ there's ghosts in this house. | It’s things like that make scandal in the | neighborhood, and besides, it ain't com- | fortin’ for a man to hear what has to live | by himself.” i I promised with a laugh, for, to tell the truth, I was a good bit ashamed of my foolish notion, now that by daylight what I had named The E had ceased their watch. But when I had gone to work in the open, the certain knowledge came back—call it instinct, what you willl— that The Eyes were once more following my every motion. It wasn't a case of nerves, for I was never nervous in my whole life; it wasn't imagination, for I haven't any. All that day, and the next, the one after, that i 8 to be sure; but at least it would fill some of the time I had left before my depart- ure at noon. must be. ng | Buest. ic- | part; but Brace started as 5 i i 5 R i =2gf £ § § F i g ag 4 | : 2 Pf 2£% i 8 £2; g 3 8 3 B »n ble resounded, bled to his feet with a snort. “Ho, ho, ho!" The door opened a second time, and Brace stumbled into the stable. His face was gray, with fear. He panted for breath. His hand was pressed against his heart. “Sonny—son!” he gasped; and at his cry I pricked up my ears. “'Vast!” he shouted. And at thequeer command the boy whipped to attention, his hands at his sides. “Are—are you all right?" Brace de- manded of me. “Why not?" I replied, as coolly as I could manage. i *I—I hadn't seen you for quite a while, | an’ I heard the laughin’.” “The laughing?” He might tell his story in a minute more, I thought. “His! " said Brace, nodding at the idiot. “Good Lord!” And the big man leaned against the wall. “Sorry he bothered you,” he said. "Come, Bill, you go home.” “He looked round,” the boy complain- ed. "I guess he ain't the Right One.” “No,” said Brace. “Mind that. This is not the Right One at all." “But you'll tell me when he comes— the Right One?” “Sure. I'll show him to you, all right, my boy." “Your charge seems well trained," was all I could say, when the idiot had sham- bled off. “He's no charge of mine,” was the sturdy answer. at which I had a hard time to keep from showing my surprise, you may be sure. “He strays over here from the Neck Road, Bill does, lookin’ for the Right One, whatever that is. Seems like he likes to kill chickens. He's what folks round here call a harmless.” | ch “Il don’t like the way he carries his hands, then,” I retorted. “Nor the look in his eye when he’s sneaking up behind a human being." And I told him all my tale. “The brute meant to strangle me," I concluded, hotly. “Him? You're nervous. And—say, | this little affair may’s well be a secret be- tween us, eh? After you git back to town. Bill's folks 'd feel awful about his gittin’ out o’ bounds this way.” Of course I . This tale would not have been told at all unless certain things had happened, which, so far as I can see, quite released me from my prom- ise. Brace followed his queer ing out into the yard, with me at his Is, and, with a comforting wink in my direc- | hig sooth at mn e— -— the door, the two of us talking about nothing at all. For an hour we sat there, when y I was rescued again. “Leave the room!" said Brace to me, curtly. But the next second he cried: “Stay here. I'd rather you did.” Rap, rap, rap, and then two more of The rain was roaring on the roof. Brace sat perfectly still. Only his hand traveled to his coat pocket, and I distinct- ly heard the click of a revolver being cocked—or thought I did, at any rate. “Would you mind in’ the door?” he asked, oly “You're next to it. It’s probably the man from Clinton way about the bull.” But it was no farm-bred specimen who stood on the dripping, before the door. Even in the darkness I could see that he was a squarely built, Portugee- looking chap, with little earrings, and he was ng if this was where Meestare Brace lived. answer he sighed happily, and flashed in the widest of smiles. “I come-a so far to-a see heem!” said the visitor, plaintively. “Let him ny Same from Brace at that moment, an e stranger passed me, drawing from his pocket a letter address- ed but not stamped. There was scrawled on it a rude drawing of a skull and cross- I waited outside, thinking of the cock- ed revolver in Brace's pocket. And in my fancy I conjured up a picture of the interview between the two men—between the cruel mate of the Sagamore, the pirate chief, thieving leader of a gang, or what not, and a member of his cheated or revengeful crew. Something of the sort they must be—that pair in the little room, which was so very quiet. Nonsense, wasn't it, to believe any such foolishness about them! But—well, I've often won- dered since what it was that Portugee really wanted, and why Brace had waited for him half in fear, half in eagerness, so very long. Why had he decided to let me stay near, after all, at the close of the waiting time? The visitor came backing out of the | door again. “It must-a be so,” he said, not threaten- ingly at all, but as if merely statinga act. “All right,” Brace answered, steadily. “Tell Smith I understand. Will you see him soon?” he added. “Maybe in one hour.” : “Maybe,” said Brace. “Wait here a minute,” he ordered, when the Portugee had vanished out into the rain and the dark, and then stepped out into the kitch- en, whence a ladder led to the upper floor. In less than a minute he was back again. He stood over the door, ap- parently listening. nconsciously | glan out the window, and what I saw there brought me to my feet. For there had crossed the light a huge figure. I did not see it distinctly—only enough to make me teel cold about my heart. But the figure moved at the same sneaking, sliding pace I had heard behind me that morning in thebarn; and I had a glimpse of an eager, grinning mask. I must have cried out, for the first I knew Brace had pushed me back into my air. “Sit still," he growled. “What you makin’ all that noise about?” “The boy!" I cried, making for the door. “I saw him. He'll do murder. Stop him, Brace.” But he held me back with an arm which felt like a bar of steel against my breast. For a moment I struggled des- perately, fighting to warn that poor devil who was being tracked like a chicken out there in the night. But it was no use. The steel bar turned to a coil of wire rope, twisted round me, and jerked me across the room. “I said," remarked Brace, smiling evilly, "for you to keep quiet.” “The boy—!" I cried in. “What do you mean?” he asked, coolly. “There's nobody left the house since the tion, he started off with him round the | Portugee house, ostensibly down the road. But it seemed to me hat the two of Shem dis appeared with strange rapidity, an thought I heard in the upper part of the house something like a scuffle and a shout of laughter. But I stayed where I was, struck by a sudden scruple, born perhaps of the man's rough tenderness for his helpless son, for such I was sure the boy Right there is where'] ought to have picked up my traps and e back to town—on foot, if need be. y time was nearly up, anyhow, for I had asked the rural delivery man to have a team sent out from the village at noon, and it lack- ed only a little of that hour. But I was kha), Suter about the t tween boy could mean; I had, too, a kind of sporting desire to get at She feasch for being i off at ‘noch on that particular day. to cap all, there had started in one of those fine northeast rains which Jas evidently going to prevent a team coming for me, after as I decided about one o'clock. “I'm afraid I've got to stay a little long- er," 1 said to my host. a xantell 10 get riot . t you wanted to get rid of me today,” I could not help “1 supposed you were expecting some other That was purest guess work on my he ho d" ink 'd come to Sud mes forgotten what had said to me on my arrival? It looked that way. He flushed a dull crimson, biting his lip under his beard. “It may A his en daring me to the truth what he me. “I— He talks of buyin’ my bull.” The day dragged along slowly enough. I tired finally o! Seed, an imaginary host's 3 oY to excited over the ," for, ing & was —con- pected with the Man and his And think, too, was sick of my self-appointed of spy, “Yes!" “No!” he replied, his eyes narrowing. “You—murderer!” For ina flash the whole of the man’s villainy showed be- fore me in letters of fire. “Can you prove it, son?” “You set the boy on him! You trained him to wait for the t One!" “In a court of law?” he continued, finishing his sentence composedly. “1 su you don't know an ing about that bottle of chloroform, either,” I went on, wildly. “It’s lucky that Por- tugee didn't want to sleep here tonight. He'd have never waked up. you coward! He's lucky to have even the chance he's got now. You—" But I stopped short. Out of the dark- ness came a horrid yell of joy and a vol- ley of that laughter I heard in the stable. For whatseemedan hour we sat in frozen, stricken silence. The roar of the rain was like thunder. 4B 4 “I'm goin’ out,” said Brace, presently. “Wonder who it was that laughed just " he added, game to the last. “For God's sake, stay here!” Somehow ! I could not bear the thought of even this rascals gol out to meet that creep . “You mightn't turn round in time.” “I don't know what answered, and with that lie on his he resolutely stalked out into the t. sign rom omside. i Yeiched black square of window till my eyes ached; m heartbeats o re round, stung sharply some horrible presentiment, that the to the kitchen was unlocked. Hl 35sie nly. | are!” : “lI looked round!” I yelled, hoping Benjamin M. Snyder Jr. of Elmira, N. against hope. “Ho, ho, ho!” he laughed, tiptoeing on. Y., and Wallace B. Porter, of Youngstown, Ohio, won the scholarships in 1909, chicken. Don't you run away. I'm a. |sion of the Pennsylvania railroad. He is comin.’ My fingers ache, but I'm strong | seventeen years old and has just gradu- i” ated from the High school in Greens- "Mighty s I" 1 assented. “But you can't break that chair, Ba added, pointi “That's stronger than you versity. ds » M. Koy stro is a son of Ava Ww. trong, telegraph operator, on the Cleve- land & Pittsburg division cf the Pennsyl- vania lines. He has been attendin Case School of Applied Science, Cieve- land, Ohio. He is twenty-one years of “And now that chicken!” he giggled, | age, and expects to continue ct the Case making a sudden snatch at me across the | school. Strong is at present a member table. I owe my life to the fact that my | of the engineer corps on the Cleveland & | In a second the chair was in splinters. He tore it apart and smashed it as | might a paper box, then kicked the pieces aside in an excess of ferocity, as if he! hated them. | coat was buttoned tight, his big paw | Pittsburg division. ; swept so close to me. And Ithank all, The Thompson scholarships were es- the gods that his lurch against the table | tablished by Anne Thompson, Frank only set the smoky lamp to rocking on | Graham Thompson, and Clark Thomp- its base, for if it had been put out—! I son, children of the late President Frank shiver still, thinking of that darkness! [| Thompson of the Pennsylvania Railroad flung myself backward out of his reach, | company. The grantors of this trust when right in the midst of my terror a | fund of $120,000.00 declared it was their thought flashed to me which seemed to | desire to afford to the sons of living and hold out a ray of hope. I should have | deceased employees of the Pennsylvania watched my grisly opponent's every mo- | system an rtunity for a technical tion; but instead I leaned forward again ' education, With the awards for 1910 recklessly, and snatched up my sketch- there are eight beneficiaries of the Tromp- book from the table. By sheer goed luck | son scholarship fund receiving a college he held off. education. This number will be main- “Pictures, Bili!" I shouted gayly, fiut. : tained by awarding two scholarships every tering the pages. “The bull! Let's make year. some pictures!” ! There was a dreadful pause of doubt. | Then without the least warning the giant ! dolly : | dropped his horrible hands and gave a | Nothing is easier than for the young of ! hat was n | the human animal to learn to swim—un- i grin t as not ugly at least. i . : | “You're not a chicken!" he said, as if | less they've been pampered and neuroticiz- disdaining the very thought. “You make | €d out of all the naturalness of youth. ' bossy pictures.” | Anitigle Reve Nach that Condition. Con- Till then I thought I had passed through | Sequently, all animals swim the first time as many dark hours as fall to the lot of | they find themselves out of depth. The the a e man; but the whole of what | 9nly reason man does not is because he followed I can never tell. Much of it is I afraid, and, in order to save himself undesirable to relate at all. What I need | from the dreaded catastrophe, he strug- recall for you is the fact that for upward 8'es frantically to keep half out of the of two hours by the clock Isat drawing Water, until it becomes a matterof chance and drawing cattle—dancing, drinking, Which half is above and which is below. standing on their heads,anything!—while | This is a grave error of judgment. With all that time the maniac stood behind me | Only your nose and mouth under, you are in absolute silence save for his noisy | Quite as badly off as the ostrich with its Learning to Swim. hands rested on my shoulders, to travel | tWO of water in your lungs dispels what up now and then and tighten experi. is left of your senses. On the other hand, mentally round my throat, if for a single | With nose and mouth out, all the rest of second my invention flagged or my hand | YOU can stay under with impunity, and wearied. | that's the whole story. . At length I had filled the book. Now, if the foolish “human” really in- "Make another,” he pleaded, sadly, Sists upon thinking in such an emergen. tightening his grip again. Cy, itis a great pity he won't think on aising my eyes, I saw the bottle on | these lines, and, moreover, if he thinks the mantel-piece, and conceived a most | at all, he must realize that the human fantastic hope. | body is apt to be a little lighter than its “Do you wanta big one?” I asked bulk of water. The proof of this is in him. “Bigger than the bull?” Hee fact that most pe le can float with v i i ; ol ace out, especially in water, pro- IO a eg OL SKIP of Joy and vm | oo an “So-o big!" I explained, stretching out Subme Even if you happen to be my arms. Rising cautiously, and keep- | unusually heavy boned and thin, the ing my arms extended as if to measure | Slightest movement of the hands used something very big indeed, I edged to the | like fins will be sufficient. Get that fact fireplace. I felt along the mantle-shelf | thoroughly in your head—that only rank behind me, and my fingers closed on Stupidity can make you sink. what I wanted. { | where you are going and will get there, ing his thumb along his furry jaw. : Be problem is only slightly different. 2 ir 3 on : : The big ¥?” he queried, doubt { Turned on your face or side, more or IY ie on!” I answered, briskly, cross- | 1€ss of your head will have to be out of ing the room to the widest stretch of Wateras well as your nose and mouth. plaster wall, and planting two chairs in | That makes just the difference between front of it side by side. “All ready, Bill!” | keeping up without effort and with it, “All ready!" he echoed, sliding across | Put even now the least paddling motion the room. “Ho. ho, ho!” of almost any kind with hands and feet “Ho, ho!” My laugh was as good as | Will insure buoyancy and progress. | his. “So-o big!” ! have often wondered at the enseness of “So big!” And he flung out his arms | nearly all the would-be teachers of swim- with another laugh, as I had. i ming who begin by. impressing upon their “Now then!" My prayer was that he | Pupils the complexity of the stroke—-tbe i “You're a chicken! One I caught in the| Young Wolfeis a son of George B.| road. One I caught in the yard—a big | Wolfe, a locomotive ineer on the one with a beard. And I'll catch you, too, | Southwest Branch of the Pittsburg divi- burg, Pa. He expects to enter the civil | engineering department of Lehigh Uni- the breathing; and all the time his terrible | head in the sand, and just a breath or 87° Now, when it comes to swimming, or The idiot watched me intently, scrap- | at least swimming so that you will know inte § id ar and most effective movement of keep on doing just what I did. “Look, RS i Vr et ee ot | part of my face, and he doubled up with cruel, po Weekly. I tied a handkerchief about the lower mirth, I tore a sleeve out of my shirt, and with what courage I could muster, and with shouts of joy in which he joined whole-heartedly, I knotted the linen strip around his nose and mouth. Then I wrenched out the cork of the bottle, stop- ping it with my thumb. ! “Now!” With a sweeping stroke of my | crayon, the bull's head and shoulders were set down in profile on the wall. “Hal” And I pretended to tip up the bot- tle against my mask. “Ha!” I was able to wet my companion’s thoroughly. “Now sit down.” I could see his yes smile as he drew in the sweet, numbing odor. He dropped down into the chair at my side. “Watch, Bill!” I drew at lightning speed, now here, now there, stopping every few seconds to renew my own pretence and to keep my jailer’s mask well soaked with the drug. “Look, Bill!” Iwas making circles now at fhe fu) Siraich of 2 am, and as fast as! could. His eyes once or twice. “Look, look!" The circles Srow smaller and even more rapid. I whisked some more d under his nose; he took no notice. I held the bottle right against the cloth; his head rolled from one shoulder to the other; the eyes he turned up were merely gray blurs. There came from him some in- articulate murmurs, and his great bulk pitched forward from the waist. I jum ed back as he recovered himself, daring to believe even then that my plan was succeeding. The next second I was at the door. Looking back, Isaw the giant half rise and stretch out his hands in the old, cruel gesture. He wavered toward me blindly, but I dodged outside to hear him go crashing to the floor. And then I made off, in a stumbling, fear- struck run through the darkness and the rain. That's all. That's why I'm tired of painting cattle, since you've asked the —By Emerson Taylor, in Har- Frank Thompson Scholarships Awarded. George F. Wolfe, of Youngwood, Pa. and M. Strong, of Cleveland, O| were — as the successful oe dates for the Frank Thompson Scholar- ie 3lition of Vase two ung men, t of Be scholarshi ps, which amount to $600.00 ann , and which are awarded Spon 8 tive examination, to sons 0 Siuployess of the Pennsylvania Rail- road . The successful candidates for the scholarships in 1907 were W. B. Rudd, of with such problems? Tell the learner just to paddle like a dog—any way, only slowly—to swim dog-fashion, as the boys call it, naturally, as it really is, and one lesson is usually enough to overcome all the fear of sinking. is much accom- plished, and the strokes which are better for speed and for the changing and rest- (ing of muscles can be taught easily enough.—Duffield Osborne in Collier's. Are We 01d at Forty? There is no fact more striking than the way modern life is pushing back the. riod of old age, says a writer in the tember Strand Magazine. Less than a century ago a man was old at 40. You have only to pick up Jane Austen's novels | entlemen of 35 described as mid- to find dle- . At 60 they were gabbling in their dotage. And there is Mr. Pickwick— that dear, delightful, benevolent old gen- | tleman of 45! Fifty years ago, when a man reached the age of 45 he grew a beard under his | chin, bought himself a pair of drab gaiters and a white neckcloth, and spoke with anxious concern of the rising generation, ' 8! whose manners were so different from those he had known as a “young man.” Nowadays the Colonel Roosevelt who is 52. In our gen- eration 32 is outwardly indistinguishable from 52, save in that the former has a slightly more youthful tint in its cheek and its waistcoat. As for the fair sex, the genus old lady is all but extinct. The pretty, vivacious matron you admire at a garden party may have seen 65 or 70 summers. As Queen Alexandra not long since said to Mme. Adelina Patti: “We are two of Hie ungest women in gl! " 1 example has been so sedulously followed that fe ladios--a) ways active, always in the height o Dr be said to laugh th the very face of Father Time. Grangers’ Picnic “at Williams’ Grove. pular notion of irrespon- | sible, irrepressible youth is illustrated by : FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN. | DAILY THOUGHT. | Men of humor are always in some degree men | of genius; wits are rareiy so, although a man of genius may, among other gifts, possess wit, as Hints to the “Horsey” Girl. —Remember that 2 girl seldom 2 to better ad- vantage than in a ri habit. Therefore, she be as well turn- ed out as possible. Absolute neatness is the mast import. ant point about a riding habit. Anything bright or remarkable is al- ways consi in poor taste, ! hair should be arranged compact- ly and securely to the head. i _ The habit should be quiet in color and simple in cut. ! ickerbockers, ending in riding boots ‘and covered by a long coat when on the horse, are now no unusual costume, par- ticularly for young girls. While for formal occasions a derby or | a horseback sailor are usually selected ‘for cross-country riding many women prefer a panama, because it is so light, and because it may more completely shade the eyes. Baths of certain kinds undoubtedly re- duce flesh, butas a rule I am opposed to them because this is not the normal way | of getting rid of adi tissue. Exercis- | ing and judicious take longer, but aeomplsh their end without flabbiness of fi later; nevertheless, because of many queries lately on the subject, I am writing today of reducing through baths, Iodine soap has stanch allies among those who claim merit for it in taking o flesh. It is made into a lather and rub- i J: pm orar fhe Sujomen anc under the knees, the lather dryi in and remaining. When it is eM that iodine acts drying the fat cells, thereby taking away the many tiny cush- ions beneath the skin, it will be under- stood readily that or what is more commonly called flabbiness may re- sult, and to obviate that I think massage should be severe. Sometimes the flesh ws sensitive under the treatment,when it will be well to do certain laces one day, the others the next, thus ternating, yet continuing the action of iodine in the system. The application does not always agree with the digestion, and should this seem to be affected, the soap should not be used. A pound of alum in a tub of warm water daily, staying in the water for 20 minutes or so, will probably reduce fat, the action of alum being similar to that of iodine. Hot soda baths, four pounds of sal soda to a pound of bicarbonate, in a tub of water, immersing the body in this daily for 20 minutes or half an hour, is a quick method of reduction if dieting and exercise accompany the treatment. But it is to be remembered that such a bath would be extremely weakening when the vitality is the least low and that few women can use it with impunity in hot weather. No baths and no external applications will be of the slightest benefit if the diet is not carefully regulated. Foods con- taining oil, fat, starch rr sugar should not be taken at all. All fish is good, except ' salmon, eels, mackerel and sardines. Eggs and milk in mcderation may take the place of meats. No liquids should be taken with the meals, but on arising a cup of warm water, into whice half a lemon issqueezed, hastets the cure for some persons. No white bread, unless it be tecasted crisp, and no pastries, cakes or deserts, are to be eaten. Women whose flesh gathers about the abdomen will find their figures improve if they will sit ccrrectly in their chairs, well back so that the tip of the spine is erect, and not bent. When, as is very usual, the latter is curved a little, the in- ternal organs are pushed out of place and large abdomens are inevitable. There can be no doubt that the really short skirt has thoroughly established itself this Spring. Of course, for walk- ing and all out-door games, it isa delight. ful and most sensible fashion, but there is some question as to its beauty and suitability where the dressy afternoon frock or evening toilette is concerned. For the quite young woman who is still in her teens, or has only recently quitted | them, the short frock looks girlish and pretty, and is moreover, very practical and comfortable. But with the older woman it is quite a different matter. She looks simply ridiculous in these fashion- : ably curtailed skirts, and, far from giving her a girlish appearance, they add years to her apparent age. Ants in thelarder are just now troub- ling many housewives. A correspondent ives the following simple remedy as infallible, after many other more common | methods of extermination had failed to | conquer the pertinacious intruders: One teaspoonful sugar and one tea- spoonful tartar emetic to one-quarter of a pint of water. This should be placed ' in a saucer in the neighborhood of those . holes which can be traced. The holes should afterward be cement- ed up, and a sharp lookout kept for any- others that may in time be eaten through, ' for ants will eat through the hardest ce- | ment. | pe ! | There is every prospect of a pretty rivalry, too, being set up between moire and heavy corded silk for tailor-mades that will doubtless gre an impetus to many other silken fabrics in the same | Quest But whether or no the main me- um be silk or cloth, the braiding em- ployed is sure to be of a heavy raised character, and for the most part arranged in detachments in square geometrical de- The 37th annual great Grangers' picnic = g; exhibition will be held on the “Old Camp 5" . grounds,” Williams’ Grove, August 29th, | —September 3rd, 1910. The exhibition! Sheets, as they n to wear, should of farm machinery, impiements, etc., and | be turned sides to middle. Sew the sel- live stock promises to that of any | v neatly, not drawing the thread too former year, fully 15 per cent more ex- | t, or there will be a hard seam. In hibits being entered. i way the middle part, which has had Wednesday, Hon. John K. Tener, Re- all to wear, will come to the sides. publican te for Governor, together | Where economy is studied it is advisable with a number of Republican politicians . to treat towels in the same way. A oe Wr T.C Master on. Wm. T. Creasy, ; = Pa. State Grange, and other : Chocolate Cream Cake.—Beat G They will have with them He hy ail care Gibboney, Party candidates for Media, Pa. ND 4 usd in June of Sonu = Lieutenant Governor re- | J of Altoona, oe ad ue Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday even- | course in at the U ings, Mr. Frank R. in illustrated oF Pennsylvania In 1908, Merritt E. G Jestures. JluifSday and Friday evenings, u of Michigan, and Hao Wate Clean attractive amusements, : of Folcroft, county, | Everything High Grade and Up-to-date. | Pa, now at the avert a Panay Excursion on all railroads. Consult | were awarded the scholarships, | Your station agent.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers