= Bellefonte, Pa., July 14, 1911. i | { — i PUSH UP THE CORNERS. Push up the corners of your mouth, ¢ Even though it pains them; Push them up and make them stay, If you have to clain them. Turn up the corners of your mouth; You can't feel sad or surly, If smiles are dimpling o'er the lips. Crisp, and sweet, and curly. A frown will kill the brightest laugh, Make vinegar of honey; A smile will kill the blackest frown, And make a dark day sunny. “f'urn up the corners of your mouth, No matter how you're feeling; And soon you'll feel the way you look, A heart of joy revealing. Mrs. Frank H. Beck, in The Advance. MISERY LOVES COMPANY. Mrs. Barr-Stokes, astride of a spirited roan thoroughbred, which she backed with nonchalant adroitness, lifted one of | those crooked eyebrows which John Sar- | gent has immortalized, and said: “Since when?” : Her companion, Mr. Adrian Wantley, did not answer. He looked into her eyes without any change of expression, and spun his crop between two fingers. : Mrs. Barr-Stokes endured his look for a while, then blushed, sighed, and turned ' away. : “Even if you won’t admit it,” said Mr. Wantley, “it's so,” he added in a big. sweeping way. “When a girl throws a man down, she gives him certain rights. ‘The right to criticise if she doesn’t find happiness with the other man; the right | to watch over her interests, and to pro- tect them when he can.” Mrs. Barr-Stokes said nothing. “If I were an Arab,” said he, “I'd be old ; enough to be your father.” : “You are old enough to be the Vincent girl's father,” said Mrs. Barr-Stokes tartly. “What has Little Vincent to do with’ it?” said Wantley. "We are great friends, | she and I—I adore her.” | “That doesn’t matter,” said Mrs. Barr- Stokes sweetly. “It isn’t your adoring | that worries us, it’s her adoring you. | She does, poor kiddie. You know she! “Nonsense,” said Mr. Wantley, “she rides my fomies for me.” “And all your other hobbies.” “And still, Evelyn,” said he, “in the face of this accusation I ask you to pack the Ryder boy up in cotton and send him home. He is making all kinds of a fool of himself. .... Of course, if you're really serious in the matter; really bent on cradle snatching, and being the recip- ient of the laughter that is sure to follow. | . His family, of course, would send him round the world with a tutor to | getoverit. . . . Mrs. Barr-Stokes laughed. : “If 1 were serious,” she said, "his fami- | ly would never have the chance. . . . ut I think it's good for a boy to play | around with an older woman. . . ." “Not,” said Wantley, “when he really takes her to heart." | “As Jacko,” said she, "hasn't taken me." | Wantley shook his head. i “It's bad taste, Evelyn. Shocking bad. ! It’s undignified.” “Say it,” said she. ! “Well,” said he, "you are too old.” i “I don't feel mw years,” she said gent- | wv, "any more t lions.” “You certainly don’t look them,” he answered, as if with a kind of personal ride in her beauty. “You never will. ou've got beautiful bones, and, of course, ! the famous eyebrows. . . ." | “Shall we turn in here?" she said, “and | have a gallop round the old track?” i “No,” said he. “I want to talk. Let's stick to the straight road.” i “The Whisky road,” she murmured un- der her breath, and aloud: “Why do they call it the Whisky road?” { “Because it's straight,” said Wantley, | “which we're not, my dear. We are evading the issue.” i “Suppose, Adrian” (she plunged at it,) “that the Ryder boy las touched my heart? What then?” "Even then,” said Wantley gravely, “I say: ‘Back-pedal.’ Nature, though re- sponsible for these Indian summer incli- nations, is against them, Evelyn. Marry him and in ten years. . . .” “I know, I know,” said she. . “How do you do, Mr. Summers? . Yes, it 1s very dusty. . . . In ten rs he will be just about old enough to w his own mind. . . . But it's fun. . . . It's been the best fun I've had, almost the only fun, since—" “I know, I k .” said Want- now . ley, with great gentieness. "But just be- hurt, we musn't hurt | i cause we've been ourselves worse—must we?” They rode for a little space in silence. | “Then it’s a bargain,” she said sudden- ly. “A bargain?” J “Of course. I give up Ryder; and you | make your farewell bow to little Vin- | cent?” Wantley smiled up beautifully. “You think that necessary?” i though A wood road, sweet and shady with | | care?” She smiled at him, a smile that had in | it something a little pathetic and tired. | | i No, she said, “Do you?” 0." Jack Ryder had reason to believe that | 7 would find Mrs. Barr-Stokes some- | where in her garden. And he felt at lib- erty to look for her without the interven- tion of a iis Td he tied Bis hore a china- t grew at i and Hoi between two generous umps of bamboo, into a maze of sanded uares and circles by paths, hedged about by well-fed plantings broad-leaved evergreens and spring- g shrubs. In the very center of the garden, an oc- tagon of pale green tiles surrounding a te marble-rimmed pool, into which a tiny nymph without clothes poured water from a conch-shell, he found her. She had on something loose mauve, delicately encrusted with weak-tea color: ed lace, and she sat in a deep wicker chair that was padded with little white linen and lace pillows, and that had been placed in the heavenly sweet shade of a tea-olive. She had her lap full of sewing 8 £2 a | id she, your antemeridian calls, ' things have happened since. . | son ribbon on “has frowned on | Jacko, He has. put jue foot gow. He is a terrible stick- | “I don't care who frowns,” said Jacko | stoutly, “if you don't.” “But I do frown,” said she, and showed : him. He laughed his clear boyish laugh. “But I do,” and he detected a quality in her voice quite new to him. The bold youth did not know just what to say; so he blushed to the roots of his yellow hair. “But I'm glad of this morning call,” she said. "Can't you make yourself comfort- able on the ground? ... There. . .. That's the way you famous e always sit in your team pictures. You were foot ball and crew, weren't you, or was it track?” : “I've forgotten,” said Jacko, blushing still harder. “It was so long ago; nearly a year. So many more Important +s You! “My dear," said Mrs. Barr-Stokes, “you flatter me. 1 haven't happened since. . . . 1 happened when the men of your genera- tion had no tails to their shirts, but but-' toned them direct to their knickerbockers. I am what is called a has-been.” “You aren't,” he contradicted. “I did flunk my Greek time after time, but I learned enough to know a dess—an immortal—when I see one. ‘Verily in her walk she showed herself tobe a goddess.’ That was in Latin." He laughed. “All the Greek I know,” he said, “I got out of Latin.” “It would shock your tender years,” said she, “to learn how old I am.” In a small voice he said: “But I know.” “That is cruel,” she said. “It would be cruel if it made any dif- ference,” he said, "but it doesn't.” “Jacko,” she said, "do you know the word that is most used lately in connec- ‘tion with me? The word is ‘ridiculous’ .. It's time I earned a better reputa- tion for myself.” “I don't understand,” he said. understand one thing.” She looked at him gravely. ! a that one thing, Jacko, mustn't be sa Ly i “But I've said it every minute that we've been together since we've known each other. It must be said.” “Every educated person,” she answer- ed, “passes at some time or other through | “I only | a phase of worship for the antique. With | .one person it is old snuff-boxes; with another it is old books; with a third, | Jacko, it is old women.” i “Don’t you think,” he protested, “that | I'm old enough to know my own mind?” She laughed very frankly in his face, and he didn't like it. He wished to ex- plain to her that he was nocallow youth; but a man grown who had seen some- fling of life. She read the wish in his ace. “Every boy,” she said, who has done a few things of which at heart he is heartily ‘ashamed likes to think that he knows OR 8 case stated, 108 UPOR The Satie. life. I grant you your late suppers and | your notes and flowers via the stage door, | and whatever else there is to be granted. | But I affirm your years, Jacko. And these | are green and blind. It isn't the crim- Your hat and the broad a in your very pleasant voice that proclaim your Harvard training, but the rather comical fact that you fancy yourseelf a| man of the world and a student of human | nature.” | “Thank you,” he said, “I had better go ! now. C a 1 “Most often." she said, “it is the in-| and intemperance. I'm a i woman, Jacko, as women go. But I know | life, a little. I've had tolearn. ... Do! you know there's only one episode in | ed? ! “There is none,” he protested. “There ! can't be. There mustn't be.” | “Bless me,” she said. dreadful. It's nothing that can't be mended: . . ." She looked at him for a | long time, and said: “It's you. ..."” “It isn't nice,” said the young man, after | a while, “to learn from the only woman I iu the world that one is an epi if i “Jacko,” she said, “you have touched | the very heart of the matter. Let me continue to be the only woman in the world, while you, like Sir Galahad of old, | go forth to seek the Holy Grail.” i “And just what do you mean by that?” | he asked. | J that,” said she, “I mean the only girl.” He rose to his feet, somewhat stiffly. “At least,” said he, “give me the satis- faction of knowing that I have served to amuse you.” . | “You have amused me,” she said seri- ously snd wiriot offense, “to such goed rpose that I have come very near play- ng the fool for you. Let us thank God, Jacko, that there is no longer any danger | “It's nothing | i i ‘of that. A woman can face scorn, drink, | and childbirth and neglect. But she can’t face laughter.” “I am " said Jacko, “if I'd let what the world thinks bluff me out of what I think." “Neither Would 1° Sa she, o I werd your age. t if I were, worl wouldn't think anything.” Then there was quite a long and miser- ble silence between them. “Was it really the butler’s idea,” he said, “not putting my chair out as usual, or was it yours?” “Does it matter?” breath of resolution, dangerous if taken internally.” She rubbed her cheeks with the tips of her fingers, and then looked at the tips; and then smiled steadily in the young man's face. “It's a good ending, Jacko,” she said. “At the end of our little his voice, and said: “No, neither the one nor the other. but a pink question mark.” With that he left her, and mounti his horse at the te, rode wi his anguish and his humiliation, of a gal- lop, for the nearest woods. The sky turned from clear to gray; and to so thick a gray that no spot of brightness marked the whereabouts of the sun. When the south wind had ac- complished this transformation in the But he didn't move. | 3 z 3 weather, it stopped blowing. A drop of Democratic Harmony. tending Democratic Factions Can Be Determined and Harmony in the Party In- sured. Now Up to Mr. Guthrie to Say If There Saall Be Party Peace or a Continuation of Factions and Fights. From the Philadelphia Record of June 29th. ALLENTOWN, PA., JUNE 28.—In an effort to settle all party dissensions, for- mer State Senator Arthur G. Dewalt, who is still the legal Democratic State chairman, today wrote to George W. Guthrie, of Pittsburg, su gesting arbitration of all legal snarls prior to the meeting of the State Committee at Harrisburg, July 19. Senator Dewalt’s letter complete is as follows: My Dear MR. GUTHRIE: My reason for addressing this letter to you, a copy of which ! intend to give to the public ress, is that I sincerely believe that we Both desire success and stability of the Democratic party of Pennsylvania, how- ever much our methods for obtaining the sume may differ. It was my hope, when I answered Mr. Walter E. Ritter's letter, expressing my willingness to retire from | the chairmanship, that you would meet me half way, and signify your willingness to resign all claims that you might have to the same office, for the sake of harmo- 2, and to avoid any further friction. our reply to his letter has convinced me that you do not deem such course either expedient or legal. 1 do not believe that the Democrats of Pennsylvania are interested either in your political ambition or welfare, nor have they any great concern in regard to mine. e party will survive if both of us are entirely eliminated, and what they most desire is the success of Democracy in this State. Your reply to Mr. Ritter's letter in brief states that you hold a po- sition of trust which was given to you by the State Central Committee, and that you cannot now in honor resign the same, and you state that by my action in ding at the meeting in March at arrisburg, and by yA appointment of the three members of the so-called Reor- ganization Committee I bound myself to abide » the decision of that meeting, and by the decision of the State Commit- tee. REJECTED ACTION IN ADVANCE. Let me remind you that at the meeting in Harrisbuog in March, I distinctly said that any action taken would, in my judg- ment, be entirely illegal and void, and against the party rules, and in appoint ing the members of the Reorganization Committee I again declared that, although I submitted to the decision of the State Central Committee in the request for the appointment of the members of the Re- | organization Committee, its action would not be legally binding. Ihave not chang- ed my mind in regard to that phase of the controversy, although I again state {that I am entirely willing to waive all claim of right to the position, if you do the same, and thus unite in the selection of some candidate for State Chairman who is entirely disinterested; or I am willing now to submit this question to any Court of competent jurisdiction, up- and submitting the points of law, and if that Court decides in your favor, I am entirely willing to abide by such deci- sion; or, I will go one step further, and say that if a case stated cannot be pre- sented to a Court or judicial tribunal, | that for myself I am willing to agree to submit the question to three persons learned in the law, or to John G. Johnson | { and David Watson, if they will consent te serve; all this for the purpose ing the meeting to be held on the 19th day of July next a complete understand- an you feel your mil | nocant who learn life at first hand, and | ing of the legal phase of the questions in- | not the swashbucklers of temperament | volved. What was attempted at the March meeting in Harrisburg was an amend- ment of the rules and the election of a State Chairman in some other way than my life of which I am heartily asham- | fhe one fixed by the rules. Rule 5th, | tion 2, distinctly states that a Chair- man shall be elected on the first Wednes- day after the third Monday of July in each year, and that the term of office shall begin on the first day of January following his election, and continue for the period of one year. I was elected Chairman at such time in July, 1910, and unless this rule is changed, or was chang- ed, no legal successor could be elected until the coming July 19th. Rule 14, Sec- altered or amended at any time u the recommendation of the Democratic State Central Committee, and a val of the succeeding Democratic te Conven- tion. It was attempted, as I have before said, to elect a Chairman of the State Central Committee at a time other than the one designated by the rules, and in a manner other than the way fixed by such | rules. The State Central un in March delegated its authority to a sub- committee, and that committee, by vote of giv-| of four to three, selected you as State Chairman. ¥ do not wish to declare that you are ignorant of the law, but if your contention now is that you legally hold the office of State Chairman, vou either ignore the decisions of the Courts, or you have failed to read the same. | LAW AGAINST DELEGATING POWER. i Let me refer you.to the case of Wick- ersham’s nomination, 32d County Court Reports, page 638, in which it is said: “The rule of the party is the law of the case. When it is desired to have 2 nom- inating convention delegate its powers to nominate, to a committee, the power of delegation must be expressly conferred by the rule of the party.” Under this deci- sion, the State Central Committee had no right to delegate its power to a sub- cominittee. Let me refer you also to the case of Hoffman's nomination. 31st Coun- ty Court Reports, page 380, in which it is stated: “When rules are adopted by political parties, they have, under our election laws, the force and effects of statutes, and must be observed until re- pealed or supplanted by others.” See also the case of Commissioners of Colum- bia county, 12th District Reports, page 67; Gerbrick's nomination, 9th District Reports, page 950; and Stucker's nomina- tion; 5th District Reports, page 660. “The rules of the political party, unless contrary to public policy, are as binding upon the party and its conventions, and upon the Court, as a statute of the State is upon the election officers.” 12th Dis- trict Reports, page 67. “The law re- quires that political organizations shall adopt rules for their government, and it is as much the duty o. the Court to re- quire an adherence to these rules, as it is to require compliance with the general election laws,” Nomination of Barry, 11th District Reports, page 107. As confirmatory of the above Common Pleas decisoins, permit me to refer yon to the case of Chester county Republican nominations, 213 Pa., page 64, in which | the Supreme Court of the State has said: “The statutes relating to primary elec- tions and nominations, make party rules the law of each particular case, and the authority of the Courts, as in the review of corporate or ecclesiastical elections and trials is merely to see that the acting body proceeded regularly according to its own rules.’ I contend, as a lawyer, entirely regard- less of any personal interest, that under these decisions the action of the meeting in March at Harrisburg, and the action of the so-called Reorganization Commit- tee, was entirely without warrant in law, and against the established rules of the party. I refer to these decisions, not for the purposs of convincing you, but to as- sure you that Courts differ radically from your view of what you deem to be the law. There will be a number of lawyers | in the State Central Committee, and it | is more to them than to you these deci- sions are referred. ALSO CLAIMS PARTY DUTY. speak of the duty you have to per- I, too, have an obligation, and that | is to preserve the integrity of the Demo- ! cratic party, and to enforce, if possible, the established rules of that party. Other than that, I have no interest in this con- troversy. I have already declared that I { will not be a candidate for re-election, and I now state to you that I have not spoken to any one in regard to the selec- tion of any person for the office of chair- man. I still hope that on the 19th day of July, we can find some reasonable and possibile way of adjusting this unfortunate difficulty. i A continuance of this strife endangers : the success of every county ticket in the | Democratic counties of the State, and You fo tion 1, provides that “the rules may be | makes the success of the opposition al- most assured in the doubtful districts. | My desire is to settle this matter now, { and thus avoid continued discord. Our | personal relations have always been | friendly, and I trust that this letter will | be received in the spirit in which it is sent, and however we may differ in the means hitherto employed, I sincerely hope that in some way we may be able to unite and secure harmony and the re- ' sultant good of the party. Iam, : Very truly yours, ! A. G. DEWALT. rain made a dark splash on the pommel A tear a Ee er hare Br urally y ry ts. He intend- ed to remain friends blight and des- pair; but would have liked nevertheless to have sat down to a square meal with He had urged his mare hither, by devious, involved, circling and un- to him. There was no help in He was b-oak wi 24s g & i i : i ] : E 81 ; i i : i 5 : i : i : : i i if if Bi 58 2 2 2 i gs 3 5 gd u i bE ; 8 4 i . 1 l : £5 g i ¥ 2 5 ;xiis isda f g 5 down to rest, lain down to think, and shut her eyes because of the glare. But did not waken at his first ignant to have Ryder fallen asleep. And he did not tease her about it, becauseshe seemed so very discouraged and sad, which was just the way he felt himself. No. She didn't know where Aiken was, and she didn't care. Did he know? No. Did he care? Well, not for himself. + “Still,” he said, “we've got to make some sort of an effort to you home. | Your horse will arrive without you and frighten your family to death.” “No,” she suid, “they've gone for the to Mr. Newton's mode! farm. I was but didn't.” “But you'd love it,” he said. “It'sa wonderful “I know,” she said, “but I had a blow. And 1 i or”"—she g most of it to live, “is a hol- you were as hi as I am,” said “you wouldn't be so tactless as to hollows.” h as you are,” she tl k of it. But I don't it’s going to rain; but I'm care.” time I talked to you,” said thought the world was a GRE. ih 1 then I have had a blow.” “Well,” said he, “you needn't be so i to me as it ed, “and weep? But I'm glad J found you. It gives me some one to think of be- sides myself.” “Since when,” she asked, “have you lacked some one to think of besides your- self?” “Since the blow,” he said. She nodded with grave comprehension. For Ryder’s romance had never been hid- den under a bushel more than her own had. And she : “Me too.” “It's a kind of bond,” said Ryder. “Being lost is another,” she said. “And getting back to Aiken,” said he, “if we evey do, will be a third.” “Why try to go back?" said she. “It seems that there's nothing in Aiken for either of us. "Oh, I suppose so,” said he gloomily. There was an awkward silence. Little Vincent broke the silence if not the awk- wardness. “What did she say?” she said. Ryder blushed to the roots of his hair. “I'll tell you,’ he proposed, "ii you'll tell me.” “There's one comfort,” she said. "You and 1 will never laugh at each other.” “she said,” szid Ryder, “that people were talking, and that I'd better clear out.” "He said.” said Little Vincent, “that people were talking, and that iic'd Letter clear out.” Here the young people shook each Gther heartily by the hand. It is unknown why. “And now.” said Ryder, “if you'll let me put vou up, I'll shorten leathers, and we can set out for Aiken or any other old place we can get to.” “Can't we hoth ride?” she suggested. “No," said Ryder, rather curtly. “It isn't done. It wouldn't be a genuine rescue, either.” “Then,” she said, “we'll take turns.” "We'll see about that,” said Ryder, “when my turn comes.” Ryders turn never came. He “loved” to walk, he said, looking up into her face; his feet were hard as nails. At that mo- ment a blister that had grown like a mushroom on his left heel broke and in- undated his boot. But he was the kind of man who enjoys being hurt in a good cause. Little Vincent was a good cause. She didn’t mind rain; she didn't mind hunger; she didn't mind being lost; and the oftener you looked at her the prettier she got. But what served chiefly to draw | them together was the fact that they were pretty sure to be laughed at for similar causes. Already there was less of blight- ed affection in their mutual misery than indignation against those who had, so to ' speak, sent them ignominiously from the drawing-room back to the nursery. “It's beginning to getdark,” said Ryder. “I'm sure if you leave the reins loose and | kick Bellaire she will find the way home: | and you will be there in time to save your people Snxary. ” “Do you think I am going to desert you,” she said, “just to save other people anxiety? Won't you ride now, and let me walk?” “I only wish,” said Ryder, “that it hurt me to walk and made me tired. use that would make the act a real sacrifice. ‘Stead of that, I'm really enjoying it.” “Don’t your boots hurt?” “I'd take them off and carry them if they did.” “Will you tell me a secret thing?” said suddenly. “What?” “What it isabout Mrs. Barr-Stokes that sets all the men raving?” “Experience,” said Ryder. “I've been asking myself that question, and that’s the answer. . . . I thought I was hard hit,” he said, and then shook his head. “Wouldn't it be horrible," said she, “to think you cared, and go too far, and find that you didn't? . . . Could you eat? I coud... “Age does make a difference,” said Ryder. “There's no use exhibiting in the class above.” “Or in the class below,” said she. “It's a pity we weren't born with that knowledge.” “It would save us the discomfort of being laughed at.” Meanwhile the rain fell steadily, and the night. “I'd give something to be sure,” said he, “that Bellaire knows the way." "Would you? The wetter it gets and the darker the better I like it.” 1 “Soon,” said he, “It will be sodark that I can’t see you. I shan't like that.” . “And I shan’t be able to see you. Butl shall know that you are there, and that I am safe. Safe from everything but—the laughter. I like it to be dark because you can say things that you don’t like to | say in the light. Tell me, what have i ple said about Mr. Wantley and me?’ i “Just what they've said about Mrs. Barr Stokes and me,” he answered. : 3 She whistled. And he blushed in the ark. | “Young man,” said Little Vincent, “I propose a defensive alliance between us | two.” she “Young girl,” he answered, “It is con- summated. : They shook hands. ! “I shall pretend,” she said, “that it was u all along, and that the Wantley ep- was to make you jealous. ... I am glad it’s dark.” “It's going to be mighty obvious to’ everybody,” said Ryder, “that my episode had a similar foundation.” ! “But,” she said, “you know we'll have | to keep it up any way till the season's | over. ” i “Of course, I know it,” said he; “that’s | Suddenly a sandy, unfamiliar road turned into a long, straight road of hard | clay, a little slippery with the rain, a road raised like a railroad embankment above t was yesterday,” she said. “Since | said: | | %%%1s this far enough to show that I'm [3S the liver, purifies the blood, and heals ' game—for any distance?” The world doesn’t look the same | did yesterday.” Hesmiled a | “Are you?" he asked. “I am,” said she. “But that being so, ! rueful smile. “I, too, have had a blow.” | I think we'd better go where it's dry, and i “Is that why your horse is in such a i | there are lights, and food. jerk | lather? Did you jump on, and ride you and go home. | didn’t care where, as fast as you could? lutely sure that you would have gone to | 1did. It's funny we should have gotten ' | to the same place. “Shall we take hands,” Ryder suggest- “If,” he said judicially, “you are abso- : the ends of the world in the rain, and the dark—" Once more they turned toward Aiken. why I'm dancing instead of walking.” ' be they cle cam, a | CoV % particl boo “Do you know,” she said, "I think it's rather fun to be back in the nursery. “If you had said Eden, now—" “Well, wherever it is that we belong; | Thigk its fuis to be Here." long ahead an outpost light of Al a “When we get to that,” said Ryder, “1 shall see your face, . .."” “It's a wet, hungry little face,” said she, “but a merry one.” “Mine,” said he, “is a happy face.” When they had passed the light and were in darkness beyond, he spoke in a gruff, embarrassed voice. “To seal our compact and make it legal,” he said, “I really think that our faces ought—to shake hands!” “Perhaps we'd really better go in,” said Mrs. Barr-Stokes. “It's really raining. And at our age—" Wantley smiled comfortably. “Even at my age,” he said, “I don't mind a little rain.” “It will ruin my gown and my pillows and my sewing,” said she “But, of course if vou don't care.” And she smiled very peacefully and beautifully, and went from smiling into laughter. “Adrian,’’ she said, “aren't you ever going to realize that the Ryder episode was for your benefit? To make you jealous? And lead youon? . . . 1 am shameless.” But he laughed aloud. “And what,” said he, “do you suppose my oD rsait of Little Vincent meant?” “We're a couple of old geese,” said Mrs. Barr-Stokes, who resembled a swan. “Still there's no real damage done. At their age they get over things.” ‘Yes,” said Wantley, sententiously. “Even if they had it pretty bad, youth is resiclient, and in six months or a year they'll have gotten over the sting.” “Poor kiddies,” said Mrs. Barr-Stokes. At that moment Ryder was waking Little Viucent in the pine wood.—By Gouverneur Morris, in Collier's. The Children of King George V. Among the most studious and best brought up boys and girls in all England are the six children of the royal family. Even in the summer, when the joe to the royal castle at Blenheim, in otland, there is a corner of one of the gardens set aside for nature study. Each child has a piece of land with hot beds and garden tools of his own, where he digs and plants and sows. They are earnest, hard-working little farmers. When the royal family is at home in London, Buckingham Palace, the Ring often goes with the children to a large lake in the park, where they have a fleet of little ships which they learn to manage. King George also frequently accompanies the children on long walks and takes them to see football games. The King loves his family devotedly and they all are very affectionate and happy. Prince John, the baby of the family, is a sturdy little fellow now almost six years old. Next comes Prince George, nine years, and Prince Henry, eleven. The only daughter is Princess Mary, who is fourteen and is said to rule her brothers with a rod of iron. She is described as a fearless little lady, with a strong will of her own and she is very fond of study. Prince Albert is fifteen : nd Prince Edward was seventeen on June 23rd. As heir-apparent, Prince Edward is Studying very lard to prepare himself for his future duties. For two years he has been one of the best pupils at the naval school at Dartmouth. He fares as ‘do the rest of the students, eating, play- ing, wofking just as they do. He is fond of all sports, swims like a fish, boxes and plays footbali. The Prince isa manly young fellow and is said to have “a heart of gold.” His kindness toward animals was shown one doy when he said, “When Iam King nobody shall cut puppies’ tails.” Edward, who was a great favorite with his grandfather, Edward VII, is altogether a charming young prince, handsome, full of high spirits and good humor. He is extremely popular, for “his kindness, his perfect courtesy and his unaffected way make him loved by everybody.” The Sovereigns of England. This rhymed chronicle of the English monarchs since 1066 A. D., is here brought up to date for coronation pur- It will be found a handy thing to ave about the memory: First, William the Norman, then Wil- liam his son, Henry, Stephen and Henry, then Rich- ard and John. Next Henry the Third, Edwards One, Two and Three. And then after Richard three Henrys we see. ' Two Edwards, third Richard, if rightly guess, Two Henrys, Sixth Edward, Queen Mary, Queen Bess. Then Jamie the Scotchman, then Charles whom they slew, But received after Cromwell another Charles too. Then Jamie the Second ascended the throne And good William and Mary together oo: Atte, Georges 4 nd fourth ne, rges four, and fou William all came. And Victoria then, illustrious dame. Next Edward the Seventh in line will be found, And his son George Fifth. just now to crowned. When the Clock Stops. When the clock has stopped you may have seen the wife or husband take it up and shake it to start it again. Sometimes succeed. Some little pr is removed by and the the body. It strength- stomach and organs of di- gestion and nutrition. There can be no substitute for “Golden Medical Discov- ery. ——Cheerfulness is one of the surest indications of good sense. —A good man does good mere.v by living.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers