& Bellefonte, Pa., January 26, 1912. — — -_— LIFE’S SCARS. They say the world is round, and yet 1 often think it square; So many litte hurts we get From corners here and there. But one great truth I've found, ! While journeying toward the West; | The only folks who really wound | Are those we love the best. The man you thoroughly despise Can rouse your wrath, tis’ true; Annoyance in your heart will rise At things mere strangers de; But those are only passing ills. This rule all lives will prove; The rankling wound which aches and thrills Is dealt by hands we love. The choicest garb, the sweetest grace, Are oft to strangers shown, The careless mien, the frowning face, Are given to our own. We flatter those we scarcely know, We please the fleeting guest, And deal full many a thoughtless blow To those who love us best. Love does not bloom on every tree, Nor true hearts yearly bloom: Alas for those who only see This cut across the tomb! But soon or late the fact grows plain To all through sorrow’s test: . The only folks who give us pain Are those we love the best. —Ella Wheeler Wilcox, THE WATCHER IN THE PASS. A man rode slowly al a narrow trail that skirted the flank of e Peak, lead- ing a pack-horse. A rifle, slung across back, bumped with monotonous reiteration as his animal stumbled from visible in panorama beneath him. is path grews narrower; it seemed to mountainside over the dizzy ce beneath; several times his £xif * the showers of loose stones t it con- tinually dislodged, bruised his leg against a of rock. Few men fo At last the worst part of the traveller's journey was accomplished. A sudden twist of the trail brought him upon an open camping space, shut in between two walls of rock, where the difficult moun- tain path linked itself to the regular road upon the apex of the ascent. It was a narrow pass in which the drifted snows rose to the horses’ hocks; it was the key to the pass, from which a gentle descent could be made, on the one side to the desert,upon the other to the pasture lands beyond the range. A single man could have held it against an army. The traveler dismounted, kneel-halter- ed his horses, and turned them loose to seek such food as they could find in sheltered places among the rocks. Then, cautiously concealing himself beneath the sky-line, he surveyed the descent toward the desert. His investigation brought a smile of triumph to his lips. He could not have chosen a more propitious place nor laid his plans more skillfully. “Two hours ahead of them,” he mutter- ed; and instinctively the index finger of his right hand crooked, as though press- ing a tri A i | or his rifle from his back, fitted a cartridge into the chamber, and began to estimate the distance to the bend round Born and bred among the God-fearing, community that had built up a civilization in the West, he had known in what £2 Sag HE 4 23 ; if aa dow ey Le, a i , to warn the Cheyennes, already restless under the increasi ts . | crackle of musketry, : young man ponderous inflexibility Jasin = 's ' to marry a I won't say as she mightn't ist at a pi seein’ as next to truth; but if of them Reformed Dutchmen anything else—" ; “I'm one of the Saints—what you cail Mormons,” young men. He rememberd afterward the incredul- ty, the horror, the mocking invectives, they realized. He had broken to where the girl stood, had hand—and, as she turned seized him and d encampment, telling him foot within its confines it would be at the peril of his life. they had set him free, I 2 3 a : : ; j iff th 4 dainfully, all her love—if she had loved him—turned to contempt and scorn. Hlinois the memory of the Mormons had left bitterness behind it. The of it burned on his cheek even now. The hatred rose up, strong and single in his heart. But now another emotion had come to contend with it— wild elation. For his opportunity had come! He had waited for it through many nights and days, while he lurked in the mountains, planning and Plotting, Flot ting ceaselessly his revenge. He the stark and simple emotions of the frontiers: man. had given him an insult worse than death, and only death couid wipe it away. Death—but not of one. It must be a holocaust. And at last his plan had come to him, full-fledged, and on the instant. | Soon, when the snows began to melt, the | immigrants would set forth upon journey over the mountains. At one point only would the snow-drifts lie thick and sodden between the strong contain- ing walls of rock—in Eagle Pass. To this spot they would come, then; they would turn the bend and debauch into this small open space, huddled pell-mell together, wagons and oxen, and the horses, all floundering in the drifts. Then —then— Far in the distance something caught the man’s eye. It seemed like a white and rounded boulder—a boulder that moved. Through the thin air the faint- est sound floated upward—that of a creak- ing axle. And the white boulder—he knew! The blood tingled in every vein. It was the round white canvas top of a prairie-schooner. In half an hour the immigrants would appear around the bend. He shifted his body and spread out the cartridges in a little heap in front of him. He counted them: there were sixty, and in each one of them lay hidden an indi- vidual death. He gloated over the they contained one flaw. It was not vengeance alone that he desired. He had brought with him, for a definite purpose, the second horse. With its aid he would the girl away, far from pursuit, over the to his own country. There he would y her scorn with devotion until he won her, not only body, but soul as well. But he would requite all his wits to save her from the hoofs of the terrified horses, from the crush of the trampling cattle—to snatch her bodily and unharm- ed from the of the rout and bear her away. t part he left ,to fate; in that he dimly ad Jjnstinctively roped the workings o t larger quantity of the equation which must be solved when man pits himself against men in that pri- 8, stinctively he glanced toward the horses. They had strayed from the sheltér of the rocks and would be visible to the oncom- ing settlers. Suspicion would be aroused; he must conceal them from sight. With this purpose, the man arose hurriedly and hastened toward the top of the pass to sectire and bring back the animals. They were pushing their way quickly such sparse herbage as they were able to find. With some difficulty the man se- cured them. For one moment he stood still, struck with a vague and hardly discerned admi- ration of the beauty of the scene that lay before him. Far under him stretched the fertile valley, bathed in the slanting th of he em his 1 changed expression upon ace horror. His eyes widened and his limbs stiffened: he stared at what lay below. At the foot of the pass, drawn up in military formulation, was a large of mounted eating thelr feathers and war-paint. In the air man was distinctly visible. They ly, to er, 7 : ; i Indian warfare not to t would mean. He cared little what fate befell those settlers had driven him from their § F ms * i ayning. settlers were emerging into the pass. Horsemen rode fi He saw them halt hurriedly and dismount and stumble forward in the snow. Then the air became suddenly alive with hissing lead, and the silence was broken by the h reverberating among the clifis. had Then one day old Eli had called him aside to talk with hi : He felt a blow as from a club u his chest and tumbled forward. rifle went spinning out of his hand over the snow, and a red stain crept from place where he lay and widening, like fi that They cursed him, jeering at him snow. prostrate amone them. as he lay hesitated, Eli | And he had seen the girl laugh dis- ! thought. | His plans had been well matured, but vate vengeance which he assumes. In- | from rock to rock, greedily munching at | along the pass. Trust a Mormon? They | would as soon have trusted a rattlesnake. He'd better pray to die quickly before they Sung him up to a tree. i dying man, unable to speak, point- i ed feebly to the west. He pointed | sistently that at last, moved by curiosity, Soe of heft vumiber went Jo the top of pass. to their compan- | ions in low voices, and the whole body of the Settlers Fan up and then went hasti- ily to form t wagons into a pro- | tective bulwark. Two of them, however, | lingered on the way and bent over the { body of the dead man and looked up in- | to each other's face with curious eyes. i "1 wonder if he knew,” they said, won- deringly.—By Frank Fleichman. The Trade-rat. { Thisis the name given in Nebraska | and other States of the West to a queer ; little animal which, in its general appear- | ance, resembles the common Norway rat, | but is smaller and of a lighter color, | being almost white on the under parts. Its tail is short and covered with fine | hair; its eyes are large and mild, like ! those of the rabbit. ! This little fellow has his home in the | timber, usually in a hollow elm or pine | tree, from which he maks frequent forays ; upon the nearest farm in quest of pro- ; visions, such as grain, vegetables, and so. ‘But. unlike some animals of a higher | order, he is strictly honest, and takes | Bothing without giving something in re- i turn. at is why he is called the “trade- ' rat. | A Nebraska man had an opportunity | to make some interesting observations | concerning this animal. He was then | living near a tract of timber, and for con- T | venience had some corn piled in a corner | of the stable. : | One morning, on going into the Jstable, he noticed an ear of corn lying apart from the pile, with about one-fourth of the grains missing, while close by, in a | neat little heap, were several freshly cut ' willow twigs and a few pine cones. A | careful examination was made of the dif- | ferent articles that the owner had ac- | quired by this one-sided transaction, and these were left just as they had been found. The next morning the investigator found that he had lost some more corn, while the pile of twigs and cones had in- pebbles had been added to it. Thinking that his nocturnal trader had much thé better of the bargain, the own- while working about the barn, he caught sight of a rat sitting contentedly on a log and watching him with his little eyes, as if he would ask, "How many cones or pebbles for an ear of corn?” . The Last Yew Forest. The yew-tree, whose wood was so eagerly sought in the days when the crossbow was still a dangerous weapon of warfare, was, in the Middle Ages, wide- ly distributedover Germany, but is to-day almost extinct, and even most German foresters know it only as a very rare tree individual specimens of which are here and there preserved. There is, however, atiny yew wooland still in existence in the Bavarian mountains, not far from the toyal city of Munich itself. . It is primeval forest land and, according to a recent count, comprises some 845 large and 1,456 small trees. The larger trees are at least 200 to 500 years old, and perhaps hundreds of years more. The smaller trees are all under 50 vears. . The largest of the trees, at a height of 4 feet {from the ground, has a circumfer- ence of 8 feet 8 inches, and quite a num- ber of them are more than 6 feet in cir- cumference and have heights varaying from 50 to 60 feet. The larger trees are much damaged by storm and still more tion. Fortunately, if it may be so put, the old | trées are all more or less rotted and their | wood thus rendered useless, for to this fact undoubtedly is due their,preservation. A small part of the yew Non to the community of Paterzell, but by far the greater part is included in the State forest reserve. ——The littie Princess Juliana of Hol- land is fairly idolized by the Dutch na- tion. Her birth was of the greatest im- portance to Holland, as Queen Wilhel- mina was the last of the chief branch of the noble house of and the next i g 5g g RF i | : E | : i : i ] i E : i f X gs § ! gs¥ The Reason. creased in size, and a few small, round | er removed the corn. The next day, i The silk thread is formed only on its exit from the insect’s body. As soon as the paste reaches the air it dries and be- FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN DAILY THOUGHT. The habit of viewing things cheerfully and of comes solid, and the spider expels it | thinking about life hopefully may be made to through two or three pairs of ts that are situated at the lower part of the abdomen The extremity of the spinner- ets contains numerous small apertures, and to each of these co a very small open tube. It is through these tubes that the pasty : matter makes its exit. These various ! jets, still soft, unite and form but a sin- . gle filament—the spider's thread. This thread 1s therefore made up of a large number of threads. The slenderness o the latter may be judged when it is con- sidered that the compound thread itself is the emblem of tenuity. The role of the spider is not limited to . the production of the raw material: like , a skilful spinner, it finishes and polishes ' ‘ the crude thread, and then directs the ' filament thus prepared, in order to form | | the netor web. It draws everything from its own resources; it is both a spinning | and a weaving machine, and it carries with it the raw material, the mechanism, and the machinist. extremities of the spider's feet are | true combs, some having fine and close ‘ teeth, and others strong and distant ones. "It is interesting to watch the insect at : work, turning aside the thread with one leg or guiding it through its teeth. The spinnerets are not all grouped in ‘the same way. Some are arranged in bundles and others in clusters. It is | Quite natural to conclude from this that t e thread has not the same qualities in these various cases, and that its diameter, tenacity, elasticity, . and flexibility must vary with its form, according as it is more or less twisted. Where Diamonds Lie. In the South-African diamond-fields the (gems are found in what are called “pipes,” which are round or oval stems of a peculiar kind of rock, several acres in extent at the top, and running down to unknown depths into the earth. Near | the surface this rock, which is rich in ‘iron, is disintegrated by exposure to the | weather, and assumes a yellowish color. | The precious pebbles are readily extract- | ed from the friable rock. Deeper down the “pipe” changes char- ‘acter. The rock becomes a compara- tively hard, blue mass, much more diffi- cult to work. Yet it is still sprinkled This blue rock has to be exposed to the weather, or treated with water, before it | will yield up its treasures. Now it is clear from the nature and ap- pearance of the diamond: that it is of volcanic origin, and the “pipes” are evidently the necks of ancient sider that the diamond burns and is con- | sumed at a high temperature, we cannot | think that the gems contained in those | | ancient pipes of rock were brought there | | from the interior of the earth while the | rock was in a molten condition. | It is far more probable that, under | peculiar conditions of pressure and temp- erature, they were formed where they are now found while the rock was cooling ‘off. It remains to be learned what the real conditions of their formation were. i How Needles are Made. | — The steel wire Jrom. which Beetles re ‘made is cut into the proper lengths. | After a bath of such bits as have ge. | cut out; they are put in a furnace, when ' they are rolled until they are perfectly straight. { The needle-pointer then takes a dozen or so of the wires, relling them between | his thumb and finger, with their ends on ‘a Srinding stone, first one and then the r being ground. The little steel bob- | Tatione he ched | wi operation the eyes are pun | The result is a complete needle, i one that is rough and is necessary that it should receive furth- rE The | then remains nothing but to give the Yi: { durin winter days, nal polish. On a coarse cloth there are |" - spread needles to the number of forty or fifty thousand. ust A i nety: t all those who give it a fair trial. . How Colored Fires are For the » E shellac ing the color. 1 ele-- ments in desired form, and regulates the rate of combustion. Another fifth part of these several com- wed 3 through with diamonds, lying embedded | in the moulds where nature made them. | 1 bearing rock | over the waist and hips, where it is held i { i volcanoes, whose fires died out probably thousands of years ago. When we con- | { f i i grow up in us like any other habit.—Smiles. With reference to velvet it is interest- ing to know that the tailors are making more suits of it than of anything else. very smartest thing is a plain skirt, with a slightly trimmed coat of thick black velvet, finished off with rolling col- lar and revers of white velvet, of ratine, or of velour de laine. The sleeves are long and tight, finish- f ing well over the hand and ending in a 3- inch turnover cuff of the white fabric and a 2-inch knife plaited ruffle of shad- ow lace. The fastening is at the waist- line, or rather begins there, for buttons and buttonholes are now continued to the hem in order that the coat may fit extra snugly across the hips. buttons are of thick black silk braid and the buttonholes are bound with black satin. A good deal of the blouse shows under this kind of coat, with its long narrow opening from the neck to the waist, but to offset this there has come about the very pretty fashion for mufflers of velvet or ribbed corduroy of satin or fur. These were an English innovation and were not widely taken up in America, al- though a few well-dressed women caught on to them last year. They not only keep the chest warm. but they provide a good color scheme for the costume. With the black velvet suit it is wise to wear a white one, no matter what the fabric, and ermine, rabbit, shag red plush are the fashionable choices. Young girls are wearing geranium red ones with suits of dark blue cloth, and they are even added to suits of gun met- al and black and gray striped corduroy to give an enlivening dash of brilliancy to an otherwise sombre whole: The striped corduroys, or pekine velvet as they are called, are immensely stylish and look far more attractive than cloth on these bitter days. Many suits are being rushed through of this fabric to meet the demand of those who have eased along on thin suits since October because of the mild winter; they are made in a very snappy manner and can bly be worn until the month of ' ay. “The skirt is narrow, about two yards wide, is opened up the side for twelve inches, and filled with a V-shaped gusset of the material. The edges of the open- ing are stitched down over this with three rows of machine stitching and fin- ished with a gun metal button at the top. The coat is quite long in comparison with those we wore in the autumn, is fastened with gun metal buttons, and has a long rolling collar of white ratine. Another popular coatis half-way to the knees, cut on slim, straight lines, as usual, | is single breasted to the bust and fas- tened with large gun metal buttons, has a narrow rolling collar and rever of the material, and wide Directoire pockets with flaps on the hips. There is something quite distinguished looking about the plain black velvet suit with a collar of itself or one of white ratine. It is more fashionable, strange to say, than the velvet suit that has 2 trim- ming of braid or satin cording. It is strange, because cloth suits of all kinds are trimmed and there are fi plain ones; yet black velvet, which 1S one of the most sumptuous fabrics we have, is now made up without any ornamenta- tion. As it is in its present severity, with its small white collar and wrist ruffles, it makes an alluring suit for the young girl or the older woman. It may not be an especially fit fabric for the morning hours and for street wear, or possibly tradition is strong with us in making that judg- ment, but fashion has approved of it, and | whether or not it is at its best in the { ongs | er attention in the form of careful heat. these days of adding a single artificial ' | i | f market places, it is certainly quite en- but chanting at the luncheon hour and the easily bent, and jt tea hour. The colorful trick that every one has | flower or a bunch Ait sual blossoms 1.4 cularly acceptable and it should be giv- greatest encouragement. shops offer the flowers in exquisite | shapes and colorings and at not too ex- | ive : they can also be made at | t is the small ones can—if one | clever at twisting satin and velvet. j The best choice for a black velvet suit | the afternoon is a large orchid | lavender tones, with r fern a : and the next best choice | is a huge pink and satin rose with green | leaves. been for ing toward a standpoint | of elaborate simplicity, and at present all | their ts, though very costly, : are oul y as plain as possible. } One of the most fashionable weddings fn g : a stood at 2% g §% receive their friends, the bride's i g 5 | Was no grain to cut. , of clover seed is necessary room farthest from the | your milk | farmer. FARM NOTES. —The point of keeping the cows clean has been proven to be a saving in feed as well as an increase in milk. ~Boards that are stained are apt to be- come lighter after a little wear; but if rubbed with paraffin oil they will again become darker. They may then be rub- bed with beeswax and turpentine, when they will look as well as ever. —If one of the working horses loses its appetite, it must not be assumed that it has acquired some serious malady. It has probably been kept on a too monot- onous ration. The diet must be changed, and if an improvement is not noted quick- ly, the animal needs both a purgative and a tonic. A tablespoonful of aniseed in the feed is an excellent tonic, as it sweet. ens the stomach and stimulates the appe- tite. —The Delaware Station records that 2 fall growth of crimson clover may fur- nish 50 to 100 pounds of nitrogen per acre and be profitable, even though the crop is winter-killed, and that the first month’s growth in the spring usually pro- duced about one-third of the total yield of nitrogen. It was determined that, when the crop was removed, 35 to 40 cent. of the nitrogen was left in stubble and roots. LIME ON THE FARM.—Lime is chezp and no farmer should fail to use it on his farm. Hydrated (H. 0.) lime put on plowed ground and harrowed will give you fine results. Lime on sour land makes it mellow and productive for clo- ver, alfalfa, corn, wheat and general crops. Lime is to the soil what feed is to the horse. It gives life and strength and therefore gives power to produce what the farmer works for, a harvest, and a profitable harvest too. —The Montana Station experts obsery- ed that, where moisture content of the soil was good, the mtrate formation was ‘relatively high. In connection with these studies 1t was shown that the great bene- fit from summer fallow was due to ni- trates accumulated in the moist soil dur- ing the fallow season, which gives a rapid growth the following year, so that the crop usually has advanced beyond the stage of liability to serious injury before the dry period of the year arrives, IT PAYS 10 USE LIME—Mr. H. E. Waite, Painted Post, N. Y., used twenty tons of lime on eighteen acres. Sowed oats and sceded with clover. Lime was spread in plowed land and well harrowed. One quarter acre left for check. This quarter acre had no clover and scarcely anything but sorrel and daisies, there On the balance of eighteen acres the clover was extremely large, and Mr. Waite's experience led him to believe that only half the usual amount when there is plenty of lime used.— Farm Economies. —It is a mistake to try to heat cream for churning by adding hot water to it. The cream should be warmed by pouring the cream into one vessel and setting that in a pan of hot water, then stirring the cream and testing it with the ther. mometer until the high temperature is reached. Churning at a very low temp- erature gives the best grain and flavor. In cold weather the cream should be brought up to the right temperature and held for two hours before churning. No attempt should be made to churn as soon as the cream reaches 58 or 60 ~—Lime for Heavy Clay Soil.—F. W. Al- len, in the Rural New Yorker, says, lime added to a heavy clay has the effect of loosening it, and rendering it more fria- ble. A simple experiment will illustrate this effect. If from a lump of plastic clay a mud ball is made and allowed to dry, it will become almost as hard as stone. If to another similar ball a small quantity (one per cent.) of caustic lime be added, it will be observed at once that it has lost much of its stickiness, and when dried will readil» crumble. Of course one per cent. is an excessive ap- plication for field practice but a bene- ficial effect is distinctly noticeable after an application of one ton per acre. Some | 80 so far as to assert that the entire ben- efit derived from liming is due to its physical effect upon the soil. —When a man wishes to buy a good a good price for it. a horse at auction is not always an, as an auctioneer is very apt up an animal regardless o he has no reputation to lose. Ani- mals at these sales are often prepared for the occasion with great care, and the beast a before the people at its best. grooming and extra food and rest have worked wonders on 3 jadey STeature, al ons 15 ape a sate Edsel -Ec83 Fed | g g 2 3 ¥ g § i ro] ~- for the lime contained, but willing to sive HH Had —*“What're ye coomin’ home with I empty for?” demanded the n't the old cow give any “I ptanding at the first door and ' thing?" : hands first as the guests pass- y es, wiPhied the boy; "nine quarts ana one Kick. : ’
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