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Bellefonte, Pa., April 5, 1912.
IN OLD BILL'S CAMP.
By Murjorie W. Merrit
(Copyright, 1911, by Associated Literary
Press.)
Old Bill's camp nestled down on the
edge of a lake in the heart of the
Maine woods. It was built of logs
and had been, originally, a lumber-
men's camp. After all the desirable
timber had been cut and the camp
abandoned, Old Bill had found it and
made application to its owners for it.
Being granted permission to live in it,
he had taken up his solitary abode
in the woods, and for five years,
winter and summer, he had lived
within the small log house.
Old Bill was a guide and in his
younger days no guide of the Maine
woods had been more popular. He
was full six feet in height and he
knew the woods and trails, the lakes
and mountains like a book. Then
there had come a time when he could
no longer tramp from morning till
night with young, enthusiastic fisher-
men or hunters, and carry their packs
and cook their meals. But when that
time came he found that he could not
leave the woods. He loved them—
every foot of them—whether they
were strewn with fragrant pine
needles or carpeted with the snows of
winter.
The old guide had a small pension
from the United States. He had
served his time in the civil war and
this monthly sum, small though it
was, was sufficient for his wants, to-
gether with what he was able to find
for his table in the woods and lakes.
In summer he lived off fish and the
berries that grew wild all about his
camp. In winter, he fared well; veni-
son and game were plentiful.
It was December—early December
—but the winter was well under way
in the north of Maine. Old Bill sat
by the stove in his cook house, read-
ing a six months’ old magazine, when
he heard the unfamiliar jungle of
sleighbells on the crisp air.
He took his feet from the stove and
stood upright, listening, The jingling
sounds came closer. Some one had
found the way to the isolated log
camp and Bill made haste to throw
on his great fur coat and step out of
doors.
In the distance, picking their way
slowly between the bows that marked
the trail across the frozen lake, came
two horses drawing a sled. The road
was well marked by the green
branches Old Bill himself had helped
to place in the ice, but a heavy snow
of the night before had made sleigh-
ing heavy. Old Bill closed the cabin
door and walked through the narrow
footpath to the foot of the lake. He
had a few friends in the village, six
miles away, but he little thought of
their coming on a day like this.
“Hello Bill!” came across the cold
air to him.
Bill waved his great hand. As yet
he could see nothing but the sled
and some muffled creatures within.
“We've got a surprise for you, Old
Bill,” said one of the men as the
sled drew up.
“You sure have,” replied the guide,
helping to hold the horses while four
persons crawled out from beneath the
fur rugs and stepped into the deep
snow. “You sure have! I haven't
geen a living soul for three weeks—
nor used my voice for as long. Put
the horses up in the shed and blanket |
them well. Have you got feed?”
Frank Allen. for it was he, attend-
ed to the animals and then made his
way with the others to the warm
little cook shanty of the camp.
“Now, Old Bill,” he began, putting
his arm on a little figure all wrapped
in a great coat, fur cap, veil and mit-
tens, “here is the surprise!” He took
off the heavy garments and a lovely
girl stood before him. “This, Old
Bill, is your granddaughter, Isabel
Rogers—f{rom Omaha, Nebraska.”
Old Bill rubbed his eyes—he did
not wear glasses. Not—not my
daughter Belle's girl?” he cried, look- | pool, in thirt days one hour and
the fastest British built clipper, the
Melbourne, made when running her
ing closely at her.
The girl nodded. “Yes, grand-
father, you daughter Belle was my
mother,” she said.
The old man put out a hand that
trembled. “I—I have not heard from
her for yvears—not since she married
that ranchman Rogers and went out
west to live,” he sald.
The others had stepper aside, see
ing the old man’s ernie
“My mother has—has gone” the
girl faltered, “and it was her last re
quest—she made me promise to find
you and live with you. She was
afraid of my health and she knew the
cold mountain air and the out-of
door life would be good for me. Oh,
not that I'm not all right,” the girl
hastened to explain, “but mother was
afraid after father died that 1 might
not be strong. I wrote to you and
each time my letters were returned
from the postoffice in Greenville, so
I determined to come and find you.
Mr. Alien took me into his home
when I arrived and promised to find
you for me. He says he has known
you for years, grandfather.”
The old guide nodded repeatedly as
if just coming to a realization of
what had taken place. His own
grandchild had come to live with him
—his daughter Belle's child! It
seemed incredible but there she stood,
a living proof of the truth—for Isa-
bel was like her dead mother.
“Well, well, let's get some supper
and celebrate,” the old guide began,
turning to the others. His heart
too full for further words with
——————
girl; there would be time enough for
that.
Frank Allen rubbed his hands to-
gether in front of the stove. “In that
basket there is enough plain food for
a week and with the aid of your ven-
ison, Old Bill, I guess we'll make out.
These boys are starved and I prom-
ised them if they'd drive us out here
they should have such a dinner as
they've never had in camp before.”
Old Bill's eves twinkled. “I'll show
them some venison steaks that will
make your word good ‘o them and
I'll make some of Old Bill's corn
bread,” the guide added, laughing, as
he went about the cook shack getting
down pots and pans. “Isabel, you'll
bave to stay right here till I get a
fire made in the little camp out yon-
der. If you will stay, that’s your
home from this minute.”
Isabel looked out of the tiny win.
dow at the adjoining cabin of logs.
It was piled high with snow banks-—
to keep out the cold, they told her.
If a little shudder passed through her
at the thought of sleeping out there
she did not give evidence of it. She
was brave and she had promised her
mother.
Old Bill's camp rang with merri-
ment that night as the five sat around
the red-covered table and ate of the
guide's cooking and welcomed to the
camp the pretty western granddaugh.
ter.
The visitors were not long on their
way the next morning before Isabel
and her grandfather were out making
footpaths in the snow and exploring.
The girl took readily to the cold
weather and hedped to make her little
cabin comfortable. The guide had
made a great fire for her in tke stove
and she had unpacked the few home-
like things she had brought with her.
“Do many hunters come this way?"
asked the girl, hearing shots in the |
woods far off. !
“Yes — plenty,” replied the guide, |
“It is a good season for deer.” |
And even as they sat at supper that
night they heard a knock at the cook!
room door. !
“Come in!” roared Old Bill, with-
out rising. This was the hospitality
of the woods.
A lone man, blue and cold and
tired, flung open the great door. He
sank into a chalr, exhausted.
Old Bill rose hastily and went to
him. “Lost?” he asked, unbuttoning
the man's fur coat.
“Yes—I got lost from my party!
this morning and have been tramp-
ing ever since. I saw your light.”
“A lucky light for you, my boy,”
sald Old Bill, in kindly tones. “Come
over and have supper with me and
my—grand-daughter,” he said.
And after a while when the man
was warmed and had become rested,
he joined them.
“This often happens, Isabel, my
girl,” explained the old man, “so
dont be surprised. I've been a re-|
fuge for many a lost hunter.” |
“You've been mine, indeed,” added |
the grateful man as he drank the cof- |
fee Isabel had heated for him.
When Isabel went to her lonely
little cabin that night it did not seem
lonely. In all that great dense snow- |
covered forest she did not feel alone.
Something told her that she would
never feel alone again and though it
was a year later that she realized just
what had taken place on that night,
she felt at peace with all the world,
just now, and slept.
And Old Bill still has his camp,
but it is enlivened during fishing and
Itreagmar @
hunting season by visits from his
grand-daughter and the husband he
gave shelter to on one cold December
night.
Race Between Clipper Ships.
The accuracy of sailing in the
palmy days of the clipper ships is in-
dicated by the statement that on a
ninety-nine days race between five
clipper ships in 1866 three went into
port at the end of their voyage on
the same tide, the Taeping beating the
Ariel by only twelve minutes and the
Serica by little over four hours.
The other two ships in this race,
the Fiery Cross and the Taitsing,
came in two days later. The Red
Jacket on her first voyage went from
Sandy Hook to the Rock light, Liver-
easting down 5,100 miles in seventeen
days. We ought never to have lost
the position we then held upon the
ocean, when Donald McKay and Sam-
uel Hall led the world in the building
of fast ships. It is humiliating to
think of the change that has come
over mercantile marine since their
day.— Army and Navy Journzl
Whipped Cream Fudge.
Four cups granulated sugar, 1 pint
milk, 14 teaspoon of cream of tartar.
Place in pan and boil to a very hard
ball or dry snap when tested in water,
In the meantime have the whites of
2 fresh eggs beaten real stiff. Now
when your syrup is cooked have some
one pour it on in a fine stream over
the eggs and beat continually until
all is mixed through, then add %
ounce of vanilla flavor and % cup of
walnuts, Pour out on wax paper and
let set for a few hours,
Cabbage Pudding.
Chop fine a small white cabbage
and put enough into a large, deep
baking pan to fill it up when the cab-
bage is done. Put it into a pint of
salted, boiling water and boil until
tender. Drain thoroughly in a coland-
or. Into two parts of the eabbage put
two-thirds of a cup of butter, with salt
and pepper to suit the taste; a pint of
cream, four eggs beaten separately,
and a pinch of cayemne pepper. Put
the mixture in a pan and bake for
balf an hon.
TABLE TOP IMMUNE TO HEAT
How Surface of Antique Furniture
Was Made to Defy Hot Plates
and Dishes.
1 was staying with an antique furni-
ture enthusiast the other day and was
very much interested to find that hot
plates and dishes seem to have no ef-
fect on his old gate-leg dining table,
pays a writer in the Philadelphia In-
quirer,
I inquired how it was managed, and
this is what he told me:
When the table was bought, the first
thing he did was to remove the coat-
ing of French polish that was already
on. This he did by scrubbing it with
hot water to which a good allowance
of washing powder had been added.
When the whole was off, the wood was
rinsed with clear, warm water, and
then rubbed over with a cloth dip-
ped in vinegar and water (equal quan-
tities.) You'll probably think that aft-
er such harsh treatment it was ruined,
but it wasn't,
After applying the vinegar and wa-
ter, he rubbed it as dry as possbile,
and when dry he started to polish it
with boiled linseed oll. One can buy
it all ready for use at any oil and
paint shop.
Taking a very little of the oil on a
soft cloth, he began to polish with
a circular movement round and round,
When he had gone al! over the sur-
face he polished well with a clean soft
duster till all trace of the oil was
removed.
Next day he repeated the process,
and this he did every day, barring Sun-
day, for six months, adding just a
wee drop of ammonia to the oil during
the last month or two,
The result is a hard, beautifully
polished surface that does not mark
sven if hot plates or dishes are put on
the table,
It is now polished very occasionally
only, with a little turpentine and bees-
wax, made so thin that it can be
shaken up in a bottfe,
I have come back terribly dissatis-
fied with my own French polish din- |
ing table, which shows a white mark
on the slightest provocation,
SECRETS OF TOAST-MAKING
Cut Bread Night Before so That Sur-
face Is Dry Before It
Is Toasted.
The secret of having crisp toast is
to cut the bread the night before, so
that the surface is dry before it is
toasted. Another trick is to have the
slices, when toasted, stood up on edge
in some place where they can be kept
hot until they are served. If the slices
are placed one on top of the other
they become soggy.
For toast that is to be ured us the
foundation for poached eggs, mush-
rooms or any creamed feed, half an
inch is the correct thickness, hot
water is distributed over it evenly
with a small spoon, and melted butter
spread on with a bristle brush, which
comes for the purpose. People who
lislik the solimess produced )y this
© course, preserv: the
eris noi® of th nast by omitting che
hc water te: when bread very
stale, it may be steamec a little be-
fore it is toasted otherwise ¢ 80
hard that ever the hes of teeth rebel
at it. Housekeeper who do not pos
sess ancient silver toast racks have
been heard to say that these only act
as coolers for the slices they hold, and
that they are not desirable at all. On
the other hand, a covered toast dish
holds the heat and steams the slices
to sogginess in a short time. The
surest way to have perfect toast
seems to be to dispense with the an-
cient formalities and take to ultra-
modern inventions, such as the elec-
tric toaster, which stands on the table
at milady’s elbow and makes the toast
“while you wait.”
Sponge Pings with Fruit.
Make a sponge cake by using two
eggs, half cup of sugar, half cup of
flour and half teaspoonful of baking
powder. Bake in a ring mold. Serve
by removing from the mold and into
the center piling cut oranges, or or-
anges and bananas. This may be
served with foamy sauce, made as
follows: One cup of milk, two table-
spoons of butter, half cup of sugar,
one tablespoon cf cornstarch, one egg.
Moisten the cornstarch in a small por-
tion of milk. Scald the remainder,
stir in the cornstarch and add the but-
ter. Beat the white of the egg until
stiff and fold into the custard care-
fully.
Fruit Cake.
One pound butter, two pounds brown
sugar, six eggs well beaten, three
pounds flour, half teaspoon soda dis-
solved in teaspoon of hot water, half
pound blanched and chopped almonds,
two pounds currants, two pounds rai-
sins (seedless), half pound citren (cut
fine), half pound lemon peel (candied),
half pound prunes (pitted and soaked
and chopped), half pound New Or
Jeans molasses, half teaspoon all kinds
of spice.
Pie Crust.
Here is my way of making pie crust
for two ples. Two and one-half cups
of flour, one heaping teaspoon of bak-
ing powder, salt. Sift all together.
Mix in with hands, one cup of lard,
cold water to roll. Mix with silver
knife.
Gingersnaps.
Half cup molasses, half cup sugar,
half cup butter and lard, three table-
spoons hot water, three cups flour,
«%& teaspoon soda, three teaspoons
Shier. tail,
The Mote in Your Own Eye.
If you find yourself thinking more
of the bad points of your friends and
relatives than of their good ones, just
stop a moment and ask yourself how
you would like people to get into the
habit of doing the same with you.
Then start again right away and do
better next time. Everybody has good
points. Try to see them.—Argus.
He Would Join Him.
Hostess—" “Why, Mr. Smith, I've
hardly seen you all the evening! Now,
I particularly want vou to come and |
hear a whistling solo by my hus-
band.”— Smith (whose hearing is a
trifle indistinet)—A whisky and soda
with vour husband?
don't mind if I do have just one!"—
Punch.
Educational Advancement.
The children at an Erith school
were taken the other day to a trav.
eling menagerie and circus in order to |
give them a practical lesson in nat- |
under. |
stand, they are to be taken to see a |
learn |
ural history. Later on, we
classical dancer in order to
anatomy.—T.ondon Punch.
Cure for Sleeplessness.
17 one is restless and cannot sleep
at night, take a common towel, double
it four times, dip in cold water and
pin around the waist with a dry towel
on the outside. For croup or sore
throat, put the towels around the neck
and they will give almost immediate
relief.
Not a Real Genius.
A Connecticut man has an alarm
clock which arouses his hens and
feeds them at the proper time. Time
wasted! A real genius would have
spent his time inventing an alarm
clock that would lay eggs and cackle
at the completion of the feat.
In Modern Politics,
“I don't see anything that man has
ever done that warrants his official
importance,” said the man who finds
fault. “No,” said Senator Sorghum.
“Some of us get on not by what we
have done, but by what we are willing
to promise not to do.”
Medical.
Burdens Lifted.
FROM BELLEFONTE BACKS—RELIEF
PROVED BY LAPSE OF TIME.
Backache is a heavy burden;
Nervousness wears one out ;
heumatic pain; urinary ilis;
Daily effects of kidney weakness.
No use to cure the symptoms,
Relief is but temporary if the cause
Cure the kidneys and you cure the cause.
Relief comes quickly—comes to stay.
Doan's Kidney Pills cure kidney ills;
Prove it by your neighbor's case.
Here's onte testimony.
The story of a permanent cure.
Hiram Fetterhoff, 28 W. St,
Pa., : “I have no ta-
tion in recom! g Doan’s K Pills,
them to be a first-class
knowing
Temedy. For sometime I was annoyed by
i r passages of the kidney secre-
tions and that Doan's Kidney Pills
were good for kidney + 1 pro-
cured a sul at Green's Co.
Their use me and I am now in
ea dnc ney on
certa an ve -
cine.” (Statement given October 21, 1907.
NO CAUSE FOR COMPLAINT SINCE.
hn Mr, Eiht ua ions
on s
confirm fa former endorsement of i
Kidney The relief they brought me
has been permanent.”
For sale by all dealers. Price 50 cents.
Foster-Milburn Co., Buffalo, New York,
sole agents for the United States.
Remember the name—Doan’s—and take
no other. 57.10
Fine Job Printing. Gk
EE— mum
FINE JOB PRINTING
o—A SPECIALTY~——o0
AT THE
WATCHMAN OFFICE
Shee Dee 0 ne
BOOK WORK,
factory maar, tnd at Pigs cont:
When you are ready for it,
you will get it here On
LUMBER,
MILL WORK,
ROOFING,
SHINGLES
AND GLASS,
BUILDING MATERIAL :
BEET
Know of them.
AN ESTIMATE?
BELLEFONTE LUMBER CO.
52-5-1y. Bellefonte, Pa,
BTML TA TL WTA TE
Well, thanks, 1
|
Whether You Pay; Us
$10, $15 or $25
For Your Spring Suit We
Guarantee You Absolute
Satisfaction.
You to Be the Judge
WEARFAUBLECLOTHES
AND] | YOUR [[[[CLOTHES
Ls. ARE INSURED... =
Compare Values and you will
be sure toffind The Fauble La-
bel on the Clothes you wear.
Spring Showing is Ready.
We would like you to see
them.
FAUBLES