DREAMS. If a good little child be ever so good, As good as a child can be; Wee Willie Winkie comes over the hill With his sack of dreams—comes he. One little dream of a truly train, One little dream of a candy cane, One little dream of a woolly sheep, One little dream of a doll to keep, One little dream of rub-a-dub drums, One little dream of a top that hums, One little dream of a trumpet red. One little dream of a brand new sled, One little dream of a chocolate drop— Dream upon dream, and they never stop. If a good little child be ever so good, As good as a child can be; Wee Willie Winkie—why, here he is! “Shut your eyes, quick,” says he. —Carolyn S. Bailey, in The Congregationalist. THE STAYING HAND. The brakeman, swinging his lantern, peered back into the darkness; the slow- moving, heavy freight had side-tracked, with a lurch, to let the express go by. “Hear anything, Gus?” The engineer, leaning out of his cab, called, lazily. “Thought we had a hobo aboard—guess it was cats.” He glanced at a coupling first da and retraced his steps, yawning. As he passed the third car something slipped silently from the bumpers and dropped to the roadbed below. “Gee!” It was no more than a hoarse whisper, but there was fear init. The unbooked passenger crouched under the car, motionless, inanimate, till a new terror stiffened hi form. What if these wheels should grind again, back- ward—forward? What would he be, after- | ward, when they found him? It was moonlight, but he took his chances and st cautiously from underneath, his eyes on the far track. He had just reach- ed it when a red eye flashed upon him— the snort of the engine, the rush of its hot, oncoming breath; he shrieked, and the thing went by. Ten minutes later he opened his eyes. “I have been run over,” was his first thought. He felt no pain. and whole! He staggered to his feet. He was used | and empty cars and men. They walked, to this thing, fear, and yet every timeit down a narrow wooden ga stunned him; as a small boy he had been afraid.in the dark. It was elemental, overpowering, the thing that kept him under! He peered around him; he saw nothing but tracks and level fieids that stretched off into the moonlight, sweet with the odor of dew-saturated grass. He drew in his breath deeply. Lord, it was good! It wes the only pleasure left in life tosuch as he. He stumbled down the ditch to where, a few yards off, a road picked out its way, a village road, worn smooth and even. He was hungry, therefore he must go on. Once on the road, he plodded steadily, a mile, two miles—it was no matter. An how later, he struck a row of blackened shanties and knew he was in the region of the mines. Across the way a light streamed from two windows; it was the thing he was lookieg for—a saloon. He wasn't a drinking man, he was just a failure, and saloons are the places where failures ask for bread. He pushed his way through the narrow door, meeting words in a strange tongue. “Ugh! Polaks!” he muttered, and made out the bar. "I'm hungry,” hesaid, brief- ly. Got anything to eat?” The proprietor nodded. “Sure—you get him for money.” “I ain't asking it for love.” He fum- bled in his pocket and threw a dime on the counter—his last coin. In a half-hour, refreshed, he put some questions. “Where's this place on the mab anyway—Russia?"” “Naw-—United States! Pottsville—de mines.” “Huh—you fellers miners?" “Sure.” “Any jobs floating about — or only stars?” The proprietor spoke, concisely. “You want a job, eh? You go to Hemmel, the boss, tomorra morning. Now I close up. Git out—all of you!” The man was the last to move. "All right. Save your hurry — you'll live longer,” he answered. At the door he turned, with a wry smile. “Say,” he said, "if anybody asks where Rick Ander- son is stopping, tell 'em the Sky View Hotel!” He slept on a bed of coal-dusted leaves till gray morning, and harsh, forei voices called him to a new day. He watched, from blackened cabins, men issue forth with tin pails and disappear in the direction of a iong brick building where an engine made incessant clamor; later, women blocked the doorways with shapeless, burden-bearing shoulders, and children overflowed on the steps below. He rose, stretching, and shook himself. "Gee!" he said, and wondered if he should go on. “I guess 1 better stay a while—no more private cars for mine!” He slouched across, slowly, to follow a man with a pick on his ulder. “Hi! where's Hemmel, the boss, hang out?” The other man pointed, with grimy forefinger, to the brick building. “All right. Thanks—in Polish or Yid- dish, or whatever lingo you speak!” Anderson, hands in ts, went on. “Gee, I'm going to work,” he said. “What ou think of that! I'm lookin’ for Mr. emmel, the boss of this dug-out.” “Well, I'm Hemmel.” “I want a job.” “Ever work in a coal-mine before?” The man hesitated. “No.” “Well, we can't bother with folks who don't know!” “I'll do anything—fill lamps—hand out picks—" “What's your trade?” “Decent ing.” “Well, that’s great!” “I never stole—more'n a ride.” The boss called over his shoulder. say, Riley—still short-handed? Take this man on. If he's no good, chuck him at the end of a week!” Hemmel nodded. The transaction was closed. It was the beginning, for the man who knew fear, of many things. In the first place, he slept and ate somewhere! It is something to sleep somewhere. For the first time in two years Rick Anderson had three meals a day. He boarded with a man on his shift, named McGarry, in one of the company’s blackened cabins— he got tobacco and a suit of mining togs : it uniess some other fellow insisted. from the company's store on credit. They hacked at their undercut in si- But there were other things. To go | lence till it reached clear to the far wall, down daily and bury oneself in that black- | then McGarry braced his auger and ness. His first descent was stored in the rammed home the cartridge with the mental strong-box that locks up tragedy tamping needle, a thin iron rod with a —he would ca it with him forever! slender point. As soon as the fuse was Going down in lift he turned pale; it set they scattered. Rick, this time, im- was nothi , but the lift-hand saw pelled by the old clutch on his throat, it and a Rick Anderson clenched stumbled far down the heading. When his fists—an oath, hurtled to his lips, he came back the others were already caught in his throat and stayed there; loading the car. Larson, looking up, fear closed his fingers about it and clung laughed full in his face. : to him grimly. Then they struck bot- Rick stood, his hand on his hip. tom. “What's the joke?” His lips were twitch- As he picked his tortuous way through ing. Eero of dusk and damp he i winked. “Say,” he said, “why prayed, hoarsely,in his soul for the things don’t you mine for potatoes? They're shut out—light and air! Good Lord! air ' deep elough underground for you! Hey, —this thing that made him conscious of ' fellers?” But nobody paid attention. breath and lungs and a pounding heart. | Rick stared, then slowly he came Need for speech made him stumble | around to Larson's side of the car. “Say ahead, abreast of McG , ; that again, will you?” he said, calmly. “How long can a feller livedown here?” | Larson Srnted. He threw a pick ' he asked. | esos to McGarry. “Here, Mac, hand “Oh, anywhere from fourteen to a hun- | him his hoe. I'm busy!” dred! It’s an easy way of bein’ dead and | Rick, white-faced, listened. “I'll tell ied, without the expense of a tomb- stone! | “in just two you gotta swallow “Well, why don’t you chuck it?” | those potatoes or my jist; take your “Aw, chuck it? when a man L Joes | choice!” through hell to getta job, it stands to | reason he'll keep it!” | “Do you think I'l fight with a white- The word finished Rick Anderson. He | livered Yankee?” he bawled, and threw a ' did not try to find another! ten-pound lump into the car. In a mo- i i in the struggle he met hourly | ment Rick was upon him! ! he had sharp work to do. Fear he was| “Man—hislamp!” used to, but panic—he must steer clear | ward, twisting the peaked cap from Lar- of that. Once it rushed upon him, he | son's huge head. would | you something,” he said, after a minute, | Larson stood grinning against the wall. ! McGarry shot for- | “Look here, you can't! go down. He did everything, those | fight here; taint safe!” The two men | lower ed without feeling. As he watched, | except fool the men on his | shift. ey knew him, and made clear in a hundred ways that he was not of their brotherhood. The Polaks, stolid, stupid, did not care—to them it was so many hours in the under world for so much to spend in the upper; they work- stealthily, their expressionless faces, his chin dropped. Gee! he wasn't as good as a Polak! He wondered sometimes what made him stick—perhaps the sight of the small | boys, old of face, hunched of shoulder, who picked slate from the dumps for were rolling in the debris of the coal. “Hi, you fellers! Help me to stop those two!” ment, panting, while Rick shook the hair out of his eyes. “You sure can fight!” said one of the Russians, staring across at him. But, through Room 2, already empty, it caught Rick shivered; already the old sense of physical unfitness and nausea was upon im! . “I never thought,” he stammered, “of— of the lamps!” A voice was calling from somewhere down the heading: “Hello, you fellers in And it tock the three of them to. cover Larson's form. He lay for a mo- | | the company for $2.50 a week; perhaps Room 14! send some one quick to the lift; | the fact that the men on his shift, most Hemmel is bringing down the Big B. and He sat up, | running his hand down his limbs. Sud- | room eight feet wide; to reach it they denly he realized it—why, it was fear, a | went,” at dawn’ tothe mouth of the West nightmare, that was all! He had not | Shaft, where a “lift” on strong cables been run over at all—he was ten inches | lowered them to a wooden platform three beyond the wooden ties, absolutely safe | hundred feet below the surface; the lift | “I | Orders { camp, a man named of them miners with a realistic experi- ence, treated him as a transient—a man who would quit after he had worked out his clothes. At the end of a week he was still “sticking.” He worked as McGarry's “butty,” in a was used, indiscriminately, for loaded ay, to the main entry,and from there th the “room.” McGarry took the lead, with the peculiar Jopig stride of the habitual miner, bend- ing his shoulders to avoid the low-hanging mass above. Anderson followed blindly. Once in the room, his task was simple— to assist, with his pick, McGarry and the other men with the undercut, and when the charge had been rammed and sent home and the coal had fallen to help load the little four-wheeled cars and push Shem along the heading to the rails out- side. That was all—yet every time the ex- plosion came aad he hurtled with the others to safety he could have cried out had not his breath caught for a single suffocating instant! By that time Mc- Safty was back again, bending to his task. McGarry was the one human being he passed daily speech with; although some times, in the lamp-room, where he sur- rendered the small torch that is as neces- sary as air to the miner, the men loafing for a few minutes before the ascent talk- ed at him. Already they knew him as the "Green Guy,” and poured out, with immobile faces, tales of fire-damp and burning, or fascinated him with a version of that white, luminous globule, faintly breathing of violets, that floats before the eye only to burst with its silent, instant annihilation. “Seen one of 'em once, a-comin’ straight for my whiskers; you kin bet I ducked an’ run! The boys scattered like mice, an’ when we got to the lift we didn’t want to talk any. Only a Pole named Zinski was missing—somehow he'd trip- ped right in the way of it. couldn't t to for a week—then found, im on his face—Went out like his lamp, i i went up into the outer air. “Gee! fa thing like that should happen here!” He voiced, faltering, the idea to McGarry, to see his face twist into a grin. "You're raw, that's what, an’ Bud he's Hebi it in! Surewor SOlrSe thefo's acci- ts—ain’t they happenin’ every day on the trolleys? And the swells that smash | their Automobiles taint fire-damp kills | them, is it? here, Rick, my own skin is the best that 'll ever fit me. Well, I ain't takin’ chances with no little air- buhble—see? Rick took heart of grace—until the | next grim tale made him feel in the | flutter in his throat that he oy { When his first week's pay was handed i him he put just $1.60 in his pocket, but | he had paid for his suit of clothes! Hem- | mel, passing into the engineroom, paused, | taking him in. . ! “Suck it out a week, have you?” i "” es.” “Like it better than hoboing?” | Rick smiled his wry smile. "They're both—pretty rotten!” But Hemmel i already turned on his heel. Rick heard him calling to the track boss— “I say, Ned, come, read this dispatch; the Big B. sidetracks here tomorrow!” Rick joined McGarry where he deeply from a water by one of the dumps. “Who's the B., anyhow?” | “Big boss, owner of the outfit. What's got him in yer noodle?” “Hemmel says he's comin’ here.” “Git out! Well, here's where we doa lively!” When Rick stir had already reached every shaft tle loaded { They were with two Russians and Larson. e man kept his eye on Rick with a bright, blink- ing insolence. When he spoke, after the manner of his kind, it was to give with | uldn't fight! Si ly, i pa wouldn't t trangely, it was one thing he could do without fear. saw red and pitched in; afterward nausea overcame him, and he never did quickening fingers of some bright spirit. | some ladies!” McGarry sent out a decisive hand. “hear what he says, Rick? Run on out to Hemmel; you ain't doin’ such a much Hote kindly, “Go on, boy; it'll cool you ol id main entry. Five yards from the lift-platform he paused. Hemmel and a man with an iron-gray mustache were handing down a girl—a girl into this blackness! “She'll be all right—chip off the old block, hey?” Hemmel was saying. “Yes, sir, I'll get the shift boss. He can see you all right in the lamp-room. Where's that man I sent for?" “Meaning me?" ward. “Yes, you'll do. Rick stepped for- Hemmel's manner was brief. “Show this lady down the main entry; let her see one of the headings, and how the shift is working in Room 6. She's safe there from explosions—and mind you are careful. She's this gentle- man's daughter!” Rick instinctively put his hand to the peak of his cap and straightened. His And Rick stumbled on out to the | He straightened a moment, staring at the black, damp wall. Gee! she had called him a gentleman! Well, it was a mistake. He was just an ordinary, no-account bloke, a hobo-miner—but he wasn't dead yet, and things could happen!” He started. Larson was standing over him, snarling, with red-rimmed eyes. “Look here, you! That little matter of potatoes ain't finished—you gotta dig some more—understand?” fighting, dragging back to it—the hole in the wall! “Mac!” he roared—and it was a whis- | per—"help get—Larson through!” He | forced, with dimming vision, the huge head and shoulders into the gap. Some | one tugged from the other side, and Lar- son groaned! Now it was his chance to | follow, but impulse, vision, everything had | left him, except the touch of her blessed | hand! This was the way it came, then— | Rick revolved slowly on his haunches, ' the end of the world! then he turned back, wordless. Larson laughed. "Did I say livered? Well, I guess!” Rick, on his feet with a hoarse cry. had his fingers ready for the man’s throat, white- | In the McGarry's blackened cabin a . girl bent abive a man’s inert form. "Oh," then his arm dropped heavily. The wom- an's hand was there restraining him! He saw red, red—yet he sank again to his task! It wasn't fear this time—it was faith in her vision of himself! Somewhere in the back McGarry was using his auger, the little, twisting sound | eating its way into the heart of the coal. "Hi, there, Larson, cut that out! I'm tired. Hand me a cartridge.” Already he was ramming it, packing it tight with damp fine coal dust. "Now then, ali of you skiddoo!" One of the Russians struck a match and held it against the wall an instant, but McGarry suddenly called, hoarsely: “Wait! Don't light it! There's fire- damp somewhere! My lamp's going out!” ' The Russian’s mouth repaid. “I told you to wait.” cGarry, run- ning back, was twisting the man’s arm. “God!” he groaned, “he's done it!" They rushed, crowding through the en- trance, into the heading, Rick stumbling somewhere in the lead. McGarry yelled, as he ran: “Fire-damp, boys! Get out quick!” It was the signal for a wild stampede ahead of them, into the main entry, where the little four-wheeled cars ' were running to the lift. As they passed then, the explosion, like the end of the world! | ' Rick, his mouth full of coal dust, scrambled to his feet. “It's over, Mac; get up!” But McGarry, on his hands and ! knees, was crawling across the floor. “It should be here,” he whispered. | “Well, it ain't here now, that's all!” And | suddenly Rick realized it. There was no | way out! He stood an in:tant, stunned. “What's | happened?” | “Piece of roof fallen—in Room 10.” | “ here!” And as Rick hung back, he added | McGarry snapped it, savagely; he had | Weber, September 15, 1911, tract of land | hunched himself against a mass of coal. “Well,” Rick demanded, “can’t we dig?" | He was feeling with his hands for the pick where he had dropped it. McGarry {in the dim light turned blood-shot eyes | upon him. “Dig, if you want,” he said; “you've got some minutes!” “What do you mean?” Rick was already hammering at the huge black mass. "Fire—and gas,” McGarry said, briefly. "One of them two—or both!" Rick knew. His arms hung inert, the old horror upon him. One of the Rus- sians, groaning, was feebly getting to his knees, the other man and Larson lay face downward, “Struck in the head, I guess?” McGarry turned his eyes slowly. Rick sobbed. He turned savagely, "Do you want to die like a rat?” he cried. “Why don't you dig?" she said, “napa, it's the man who showed | me rcusd!” Her lips were quivering. i “First tin e in four years,” Hemmel was saying in undertone, “but fire-damp, you | can't tell when it will crop out! We had | these north headings tested a month ago | —it's the devil!” | “Thre big man stirred. “These things,” | he said, heavily, “make me wish I owned | a—granary! They got them all out?” “All but Petrovski, a Russian; he's’ missing. But how those four—! When Higgs, at the top. got the signal, he thought he was being fooled.” The girl spoke softly to the doctor. “Will he live, this one?” nodded. “Yes; in a minute he'll open his eyes.” She stood there, pityingly. It seemed to Rick, as he stared back into the fac of life again, that it was her face, holding the pity of the angels he was not yet fit for seeing. He sighed. "I | gotta go back!” he said, and attempted to rise. And the doctor | FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN. DAILY THOUGHT. One ship drives east, and another west, With the self-same winds that blow; "Tis the set of the sails, And not the gales, Which decides the way to go. Like the winds of the sea are the ways of fate, As we voyage along through life; "Tis the will of the soul That decides its goal, And not the calm or the strife, —— Navy blue silk serge, surah silk or French serge will be the materials for the smart one-piece street dresses of au- tumn. Their neatness and the sense of security enjoyed in the wearing recom- mend them to the out-of-door girl. The waist line remains slightly raised, with a narrow belt of the material of the dress securing the skirt to the blouse, Peasant bodices remain the vogue, though their security is relieved by braid- ings, tuckings and embroidery. A long, straight tunic reaching almost | to the bottom of the skirt is a fashion. | able development of both the one-piece dress and the suit skirt. One of the most popular cuts of the autumn will be the slashed skirt, already firmly established in Paris. Most of the models show the slash extending only slightly above the three inch hem. If a longer slash is used it extends to the knee in Directoire fashion and is filled in with a pleated dory of silk in a contrasting shade. The fashionable autumn sleeve ends i 1 She touched his arm with her hand. “Oh,” she said, “you brave man!" Rick, his face swept clear of all but peace, stared gravely upward. "Would you mind,” he said, faintly, | "keepin’ it there, lady—your Fand. for a : while?"—By Alice Garland Steele, in Harper's Weekly. Real Estate Transfers. i ' Geo. M. Boal exr. to Jas. M. Swabb, Twp.; | H.R. Fulton to R. L. Watts, August 31, | 1911, tract of land in College Twp.; $1. Robert Smith to Irvin E. Zettle, April | January 25, 1911, tract of land in Harris half way between the wrist and the el- (bow. It has a six-inch glaring cuff, slightly stiffened, and is oR in | by an undersleeve of all-over lace or net finished with a frill of lace. _ The Directoire period is stiil noticeable in wide revers, cut away effects in tail- ored coats and straight narrow sihou- ettes, and though rumor declares for ful- ler skirts, smaller waist lines and puffs at the elbows, fashion will not carry out the | prediction for some time to come because of the universally becoming effect of , present makes. The tiniest tots may indulge in coats of 1, 1911, tract of land in Gregg Twp.; $150. Wm. D. Foster et al to Samuel E. in State College; $600. | May 2, 1911, tract of land in College | Twp.; $150. Lehigh Valley Coal Co. to James I. Yarnell, September 16, 1911, tract of land in Snow Shoe; $100. sack, September 16, 1911, tract of land in Snow Shoe Twp.; $50. October 3, 1911, tract of land in Belle- fonte; $1200. John S. Bumgardner et ux to C. A. Miller, October 14, 1911, tract of land in State College; $7200. Harry F. Chaney et al to Budd Thomp- son, October 6, 1911, tract of land in Worth Twp.; $5600. Lawrence L. Miller et ux to Wm. W. | Matilda A. Dale to Maude E. Shuey, Lehigh Valley Coal Co. to John Boden- | Harriet T. Kurtz to Michael F. Hazel, (fur this winter—almost any fur their ‘ mothers wear. Black furs, such as seal and ponyskin, are not thought too old looking for the little mites of two or | three years. The coats are made square and plain, but are brightened by gay lin- ings and gay caps that may be trimmed with a bit of the fur to match. Ermine, | beaver and broadcloth are some of the : other furs that may be used for children. The little coats of cloth are fitted with large collars of fur, if the mother does | not care for all-fur coats. Revers may be added and tiny cuffs,or just a straight col- lar may be used, as preferred. Astrakhan, | beaver, skunk and seal are favorities for this purpose. The cloths are in all the | pretty childish shades, including pale lue, white, pale pink and gray. i — | Bridesmaids and maids of honor follow | unhesitatingly the wishes of the bride re- , garding the color and style of their gowns, | as well as all the accessories. {When the bride is blessed with wealth she often presents the gowns and acces- McGarry laughed. It was terrible, that | Stevenson, October 12, 1911, tract of land | sories in all their completeness to her eyes, under the coal-grime, took in the | laugh—it sent all the blood from Rick's fairness of his charge. “I'll bring her | body; he felt a crowding at his lungs for in South Philipsburg Boro; $300. Robert B. Hosterman to Luther Wea- maids as a gift. The bridegroom sends the flowers to be | “Oh,” she wi it is the he Via. Hy back all right!" he said. “You are not afraid?” Her father was looking across at her. “Papa! Of course not—in your mine!” Hemmel threw out his hands. “She will go through it, you see. If you'd rather, I'll just leave you in the lamp- room and show her round myself.” “Certainly not!” She was smiling, “Take you away from papa when he’s come all this distance to see you, Mr. Hemmel? Besides—this"—she paused, blushing, then added, steadily—"this ntleman will take care of me, I know.” he turned to him. “Shall we be long?" “About fifteen minutes, lady.” She caught the lapels of her father's coat. “In fifteen minutes, Papa Presi- dent, I'll hunt you up in your little lamp- room, so hurry, dear, and get through!” She waved her hand, smiling, as she fol- lowed Rick down the gangway. A moment later he heard her, ing. “It's pretty dark,” she said. “Would you mind just—my putting my hand on your arm?” { air--then he came to. “Let's fight it out,” ; he said. "Come on!” him stir under the touch of his hand. “Get up!” he called. But Larson could not rise. The other man was quite still— dead! McGarry crouched against the wall, watching. Rick ran to the place where the door had been and deliberately raised his pick. Suddenly he felt, rather than saw, De ar beside him, hacking in his turn, From the way they had come they felt a wave of hot, suffocating vapor. “It's the gas,” muttered McGarry. like that; we're liable to get the flames now, any minute!” he had found an aperture in the coal. He thrust his pick in, using it as a lever, and slowly the minutes passed. Suddenly they heard it following them down the heading, a circling, sullen whirl that held a sound more terrible than sound—the small, fine crackling of minute particles of Sal as it was caught up from the floor- He stepped back at once, thrilled to | bed the soul of him. “Sure not, lady!” And he walked with a pride he did not analyze. “These,” he said, “are what they call the headings—sort of side- streets.” They leaned against the wallto let an empty car go by. “It 'll come back full,” he explained, and led her on into Room 6. She watched the men work in silence, Little explosive sounds rumbled to them, dulled by distance; she asked what they were and he told her. "You undercut, then you ram the charge and lighta fuse; after that it explodes and the coal falls. “I think—I think know!” She look- ed at him. "Do you ram the "iid He shook his head. “No, lady, I ain't a Lo do sgt “You asif you anything,” she said, “that thar brave men do.” He smiled his wry smile into the dark- ness. “I ain't built for a hero, lady!” “Oh,” she said, softly, “you shouldn't say that! Why, you don’t know! I think Jou could be one, if you had to, right this ute.” He was very still at her side. “Besides,” she went on, “even’if you never do any- thing else, it's the work of a man—to live down here in the dark for the of those others above you—to give them Oh, I think you are brave “ ” *, & ih i E) ih SE EEE “gifs hel tl aa of his sordid, He just healed, one by one. It was as if all over ing something that had the dulled surface of his soul had run the “Work quick.” Rick, with set teeth, voiced the order, himself setting a swifter pace as blow followed blow. was a space between him and McGarry, and somehow the Russian filled it, using his axe heavily with an arm that sometimes fell short of the mark. Rick's lamp began to flicker; suddenly it went out, and on the same instant the Russian’s. But the gas that wrapped them was more dread- ul than darkness! “Can you get through yet?” Mac shot the question, panting. “Not vet—a cat couldn't.” Rick felt his breath draw down fire to his Jungs, and braced himseif. Lord! if he could only have a chance! There was so much to live for—air, light, honor! Sud- denly his pick gave and he fell to the vapor-soaked floor, covered with frag- ments. But there was a way through! Already McGarry had crawled into the forced a way for his head and sh he felt somebody pushing from behind—a jninwte later the Russian tumbled upon m. “The boys bled McGarry. are out,” mum 3 “God send an's “Gee!” he cried, "it's back and try!" inches, reaching and suddenly he his eye- to the dead ! weight on his breast and t | senses, as the vapor that men know for destruction wrapped them round. He was He stumbled back to Larson, and feit ver, May 29, 1911, tract of land in Haines carried b l the mids. and the bride adds Twp.; $50. a pretty little 1. et, which often takes ' —— the form of a piece of jewelry. . 3 The maid of honor receives the bride's The Prickly Peat, bouquet and giove while the ring is being The prickly-pear is said to be so tena- | placed on ler finger, returning them at cious of life that a leaf or even a small the close of tae ceremony. : Maid of honor and best man follow im- rtion of a leaf, if thrown on the! y e i} Py strikes out roots within a short mediately after the bride and bridegroom !in leaving the church. time and becomes the parent of a fast- “It acts; Rick braced himself for another blow— | “Well, hurry!” The last word was lost. hole. As Rick, staggering to Jie Joes, Y | us some one at the lift—if we | | “Clear up as you { growing plant. | Mischievous though the African prick- | ly-pear may be, it is not without its good | qualities. Its juicy fruit, though rather deficient in flavor, is delightfully cool and i refreshing in the dry heat of summer, | and a kind of treacle is made from it. Great caution must be exercised in peeling this curious fruit, the proper way being to impale the fruit on a fork or stick while one cuts it open and removes the skin. The individual who undertakes to pluck this treacherous fruit with un- guarded fingers meets with an experience he does not soon forget. Concentrated essence of stinging nettle seems all at once to assail hands, lips, and tongue; and the skin, wherever it comes in con- tact with the ill-natured fruit, is covered with a group of minute, bristly hairs, ap- parently growing from it, and venomous and irritating to the last degree. In dry weather these teful little stings do not even wait for newly ar- rived victim, but fly about, light as this- tle-down, ready to settle on any one who has not learned by experience to give the prickly-pear bush a wide berth. Ba-cka-che. It looks like Greek. But it is plain ish for backache. People who suffer with backache and want to be cured, write to Dr. Pierce, Buffalo, N. Y. “I wrote you for advice February 4, 1896,” writes Mrs. Loma Halstead, of Claremore, Cherokee Nat., Ind. Ty. “I was racking with pain from the back of my head down to my heels. Had hem for weeks at a time. and was un- able to sit up for ten minutes at a time. . To my surprise, in four months from the time I began your treatment I was a well woman and have not had the backache since, and now I put in sixteen hours aday, at hard work." breath of life! | Silly Saying Still Lives. : saying that fish is the best brain food comes of an old long tongue wind- bag ing: “ t is im- : TE aT So a Swiss chemist, knowing that fish contained phosphorus, put two and two together a brought forth a saying that will never ie. —Subscribe for the WATCHMAN, ery, TLE about injections, | T Is it possible to look distinctive, even though one dresses in the ready mades? The answer: Yes, it i-. If one chooses to buy the dress that is always fully made, but which generally needs a few altera- tions in order to fit correctly, she can make it bespeak individuality by adding different touches that appeal to her. She i knows what is in the makeup of the much higher-priced creations and these can be ed at home with so very small an out- lay that when the dressis attended it will never be thought to have been anfthing so inexpensive as you really did buy. Avail yourself of bargains and then make | them distinctive. Oyster Cocktails.—Use the small Blue Point or Cherrystone oysters and allow a half dozen to each cover. , Chill thorough- i on the ee. For six covers mig together ree tablespoon! each of vinegar, grated horse radish and tomato catsup. dd six teaspoonfuls ot lemon juice and a few drops of tobasco. Have the dress- 1 | plate and serve with toasted crackers. Peanut Candy.—Prepare the peanuts | by shelling a eupial and removing all the brown skins. one cup of white sugar into a hot iron frying pan, the bottom of which has been moistened with water, and stir until the gugat 3s dissolved to ' be tested as any baked custa ! ing the point of a knife into (If it comes out with no custard clinging to it, the timbale is done.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers