Bellefonte, Pa., July 12, 1912.
BECAUSE OF HER.
‘With bare brown legs and faded gingham gown, |
I saw her first, a lovely little girl.
Her slender fingers clasped within my own, |
From out her wondrous eyes of darkest blue |
Shone forth a soul all pure and undefiled. {
And all things young and beautiful took on |
An added charm because she was a child.
Again | saw her as a maiden grown, i
A half-ope’d blossom, whose rare grave ful- |
filled
‘The promise of the bud, and vet gave hints
Of greater glories, when, if God so willed :
The half-blown rose should ope’ to fullest flower. ;
I brought my gift of frankincense and myrrh i
To lay them at her feet; and evermore i
I reverence Womanhood, because of her,
And now I watch her rocking to and fro,
And crooning low within the dimming light;
A tiny head is pillowed on her arm,
A tiny form is cuddled warm and tight. i
A glow is on her face—a light, methinks, !
‘That never on the land or sea did rest,
All Motherhood is sacred now to me
Because it is my baby at her breast.
—Mabel Stevens Freer, in Ainslee’s Magazine.
{
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THREE FLIGHTS UP AND BACK.
i
She could not endure it a moment long- |
er. She looked au thie Little
room helplessly, as if com
mechanically reached to the bed for her |
hat and its pins. She would not suffer |
such loneliness. It filled her with dread. |
The ticking of the tiny clock was an in- |
sistent torture. She shuddered, and
stabbed the pins through as if the hat
Ce he Stony Fla” alls |
i room a . |
ing silence. Solitude cried out from |
every corner of it. The cracked mirror |
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hum of ig oe new ih was to be |
a merry night; that ights were glow-
ing bravely and the horns sounding out-
Se Fae LI
or the life a song of life's |
happiness. It all seemed very alluring |
and called to the shabby lodging, three |
flights up and back.
ife—that which she lived—was gray. |
The dull, cheerless mornings, the rattle |
of the L. the stuffy work room poorly |
lighted, the long monotonous day, and
then the twilight so like the cheerless |
morning, the rush of the trains hy
and three flights up and back.
who have tired of life may endure this a |
long time; but she had not known that |
of which many were tired. And she |
would go at it. When the door closed |
behind her, and the purer air of the
street kissed her cheek, her steps quick-
ened. She forgot the stale hallway, and
the little shabby cloister of loneliness.
The first gleam of an eager expectancy |
came into her eyes. :
Through Times Square, with its tower-
ing pallid shaft, all down the crooked
lane ot lights called Broadway to where
the blunt edge of the Flatiron poked war-
ily out of the haze, the crowd rioted aim-
lessly. There was no formality on this
carnival night. Freed from the nervous
shuttle of existence, the warp and woof
of the city tried to outweave the pattern
of their daily routine. She was but one
of many. .
Excepting her eyes, everything else
about her marked that mediocrity which
is of women—the tragedy of lonely wom-
en. She had always been lonely. She
had never appealed to anyone that she
could remember, and had begun to
think that there was in her no appeal.
The faint waver of a smile came to
her face as confetti drifted down over
her hat. A little throb of delight was in
her heart when she thought that she
would be a part of the crowd despite
timidity and lack of spirit; but the quick
sting of the sensitive followed swift on
this, as she noticed that the first favor
covered, the little sprites of cling-
ing mischievously in dg nll
the laughing, flush-cheeked women,
who were not alone; and in their eyes
she saw a light which was not the light
of her She laughed, mirthlessly.
Then a whirlpool of the crowd swept her
into the street. A current of heedless
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fhey hurting you?” he asked.
“Come! Follow the 8
He brushed along the side of it, send: |
ing off the crowd with his shoulder. :
“The crowd Piles t, but we don't |
seem to belong,” he i
“I'm afraid, she ied. i
| had
rushed past him and had gone on, glor-
that foolish.”
he began to explain as one not used
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crowds there. I
ite see the allure m . He
erent. He always wanted to get
back to the wine, an'—well, he didn’t get
away with his luck, poor devil. He's the
fellow I spoke about before—the one I
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people rescued from a dan- | said I'd buried. =
, they turned and surveyed each other | "That's why I'm here now—tryin’ to
closely. Men would have shaken hands, | settle up some business for him. I've
had no luck with it so far; can't strike
t came to the man that this | the trail of his folks. They must have
.. iS hgh She was not of the | shifted about a good deal—but then, I've
crowd and nei was he. Thousands | only had one clue. It’s not goin’ to be a
of women, angels, devils perhaps, pleasant job for me.”
was a note of hesitation in his
voice. He glanced about the place as
one who fears he may be overheard. So
little had she to say in reply, and so little
of interest did she display that he seem.
ed to believe he must tell the whole story
of it. A sentence here and there during
the meal's course, and he had betrayed
the fact that he had come a long way on
a lagging mission, an enforced duty, and
he seemed as one bursting with con-
fidence. He leaned on the table and be-
gan again eagerly:
“You see, little woman, one day we
struck it. It wasn't the biggest strike
ever made in that country, but it was our
strike. We had only heard of the rest
. | of them gettin’ rich, an’ this was our
question in them, he | turn. Chums we were, men that had
felt it. She would have hurried off had | seen the rough end of it—I'd met him in
he not caught her arm, and he walked | a tough joint when he was gettin’ -the
with her, making apology, if it was not | worst of a row, and we went into the
argument. street that night with the pack hanging
“I didn’t mean to take advantage—but | to us. Well! After all the times, mostly
say! you're alone, and they'll crush you! bad, we'd struck it fair. We sat out
up again. [guess I'm out of the right | planning what we'd do, now that the
habit of talking to women. Haven't seen | squalls were over. He was going back to
any for more than two years, and a fel- | make his splurge with the big crowd
low forgets. That's the straight truth; | under the lights. To the folks?—not a
I've been up in the Yukon country for! bit of that for him—they had gone their
close to thirty months. But say—" He | ways, good or bad, without him, an’ he
guessed he could get along too. About
an even pair we were, ‘cause I was plan-
ning to get back what a gambler had
taken away from me in ‘Frisco.
“But that night the weather shuts us
in, and there was no chance to break
iously merry,
i
“Tore some buttons off my coat, too,”
he said ruefully. “Well, you're not going
into that again? »
I must.
“I'll follow to help you out, if you're
this. A million
people} that street, and I don’t know a
soul of 'em. I'm lonely as I'd be in heav-
en. Then you came along—and it just 0
seemed that you were flung against me | away for ever so long—we didn't know
for a last word "fore I went dumb.” ! when we could—an’ so there wasn't any-
The plea he made was curiously pa- | thing for it but to wait, an’ growl, an’
thetic. He was like a child astray, and | grow ugly. Then we got goin’ with the
she stopped to laugh aloud, a cheery | cards—and, well! you see, he lost. He
heart laugh. | never was a hand at cards, no ways—an
“I know how that feels,” she said. | he lost the pile out-right It was a good
“Do you?” he eagerly questioned. “It's | joke to me, 'cause I had no idear he'd
hell, ain't it?” take it so, an’ it was my game to call
She made no reply, although her eyes | it off when the weather opened up. I
twinkled sympathetically. thought I get some fun out of him, but
“There! Iknew I'd most likely say the | no, he wouldn't have it that way. He
wrong thing.” walked outside the cabin one night, after
“No,” she agreed frankly. “It's a fair- | which I heard a shot. It got on my
ly description of being lonely.” nerves, that shot. You see, I found him,
“Well! Do you know, off where I was,.| and then I had to bury him. It was
a fellow gets to talkin’ to himself, an’ ex- | tough.”
pects answers. Solitary—only ice, snow,
a few naked birches, stale fish an’ In-
dians. I buried my pardner, an’ then I
just felt that I had to see e, hear
‘em, smell em again. But say, that place
I left is warm to this. New York is as
cold as nails. A million people in the
street and no one to slap on the back. I
Mechanically he picked up his fork as
if to go on eating; then a stealthy glance
at her face, and he dropped it again with
a little gesture of dismay. It was as
though the large gray eyes had for the
first time reminded him of something
horrible, and his face grew white. He
His. suspiciously narro
adden) Toh ie a a
ea orward an: out:
"Don’t look at me like that. What's—
what's it to you? I was only tellin’ you
because—" The words came slower and
slower from his lips. Like a man ques-
tioning a ghost, he quavered:
“What's your name?” :
She was so startled that she told him
the truth.
“Barbara—Fetre!” he repeated; then
he laughed boisterously. "I beg your
pardon—there are not many names like
that.”
tr ee oS le, S38, agtues
"I couldn't,” she began in refusal; but | the table, like one fascina _doors
there voice a certain wi ot the cafe that had been opening so
was ii hes » Visti] meekly, crashed inward. The man quiv-
ered at the noise as though he had re-
pi ceived a blow. The quiet atmosphere of
feel, ought to somebody, an’ | caught his breath with a half-smothered i
say: hed yeh you've got a heart? | cath.
Show me!
sure
I want to hear it beat!’” ;
She laughed again, a low understanding
laugh. man shook his head plain.
Hysly, as if the problem was too big for
im.
“It's all gone out of them,” she said.
"And me too.”
He looked at her inquiringly, half
puzzled.
“Heart,” she explained tersely.
“No! You can find anythin
stick to the trail long en 3 Y
heart back when you try. It's big game,
an’ yeh musn't get cast down. hat d’
yeh say; shall we go after it?”
if yeh
eh get
ot know, and unconsciously her hand | available was filled, they introduced
es wy his arm, “We couldn 't find 8 pusiod © ig and song, Te cits
» tone to
ee a rit. Hanging to sounded the tune of a cheap ditty, and a
Bt her, and said bly a iv Con DOGEU . vhics” gid
Fy od many tines 10 falling: partrers, |, ol til about. He was plain-
Life's gravest stories sometimes have | iy
uivial roots, A crowd's su and the
appeal of frightened eyes, a room
Jiatad by a cracked wiror avd .
to ; these are mal
fre Hl Ct tritely im. | steady voice.
porsant ti eflact it Yet, Je ier
heart in desert, comedy ma
stumble on it unawares. Chance has a | snarling.
“I can’t,” she
He pulled himself up until i eet were
firm on the bumper. To do this required
he helo of both liands, and on releasing
her he a little sob. Instantly flash-
ed into his mind her belief that he would
abandon her. Why not, he thought, since
the quieter and A My
street were
as uncari Had he not had trouble
enough with her?
to , however dressed in motley, in their ears—the answer of a bar-
ay howe its way often go far baran of seconds. A
to find themselves at home. $ Was an episode we
Down in the dark of the street burned | ment after a ge Walking
a cafe's sign. darkened street beside her.
“Never start over the trail without! “Where do you live?” was all he said.
Ds De in Sen wl, She dil, Af the soruer te: call
away ‘from bedlam, and this bunch of | “Good ole muttered in a jose of
lunatics. After that we can make our apology. “Im a A ls.
Cb ly figure in the dark.
Mellow! windows draped with | Three flights up and back received a
lace a hazy view of the interior. | note and a draft next day. The first
They were greeted by the low hum of read:
conversation and the timorous tinkle of “I am sorry that I came near making
silver. A waiter regarded them with a | another big mistake, for see, I bur-
studied insolence of manner until told to ied him and 1 couldn't know who you
get busy. were i crowd. I found your letter
The place was not ornate; the lights tl Soot We were on a bad trail,
were just a little more than dim; and the but 1 ope you'll forgive me, and take
few pictures on the walls appealed in |¢phe man’s chance. You'll get back
color to both of them, because of their heart if you try.”
very gray lives. With all the nervous| “The draft fluttered to the floor. She
riot left outside, their secluded corner of threw herself sobbing across the bed.
the dining room seemed to have an al-| Chance sometimes stumbles on three
most hallowed quiet. Sometimes, when flights up and back.—Leo Crane, in Lit-
the door and someone entered | o0py Magazine.
Jom he Seal, the faint din coll be - sia, ==
but with the shutting of the PL tle To LA 3 t
noise of the crowd mellowed | 20's’ charm against rheumatism, for
away into nothing. Fis woes DUES ee aud wernt lgve bien
She glanced across the table at the | educated to believe scientific
man, who had not been of the crowd's Sat Seusnatism io a blord. diseate, and
spirit, and into whose arms she had been ust be coved though the il
as some wing-riven bird. The un- San Sure of re a
EE I he ad an Salar | don Metical Ditto ue
with the crowd and alone ould intrude, editing: of he It
out from shadowy backgrounds Syfaest blood medicitie + age.
the solitary life she had led peeped sordid | cleanses the ting
pitturts of otiefs who lid ey | intreaning the scteiy Of (he SHEL
with the current, to be heard of no more, Jaren the 4 oo mak
3] 5. he wouldeatch 2 vision of a Crack, ing # ru which
it would blot out ail the rest. is like a river of health to the
Despite her little he insisted | 20%:
on their adinner only ,
dreamed of in the shabby back rooms of | —Don’t read an out-of-date paper. Get
lodgings. And with the coming of the!all the news in the WATCHMAN.
wed eyes |
wide and fearing. fe
Population in Terms of Water.
According to W. J. McGee, the pos.
gible popuiation of our country ought
to be measured, not according to the
amount of land we possess, but, ac-
cording to the amount of water—in
other words, according to the amount |
of rainfall. By his estimate, the coun-
try can comfortably support one per-
son to five acre-feet of water (one foot
of water spread over five acres sur-
face). Now the annual rainfa!l of
mainland United States—the sole or-
iginal source of our fresh waters— is |
barely §,000,600,000 acre-feet: it av-
erages hardly two and one-half feet
{thirty inches) over our 2,000,000,000
acres. So our greatest possible popu-
lation, measured by our highest stand-
ards of primary production, would not
exceed 1,000,000,000—a number which '
at the current rate of increase will be
reached in three centuries, or when
the span since the landing at James.
town is doubled.—World's Work.
Box Was Fastened.
Lieutenant John Corrigan had the
sidewalk cn the Washington street
side of D. Sommers & Co.'s store roped
off Sunday, because he feared the
wind would blow a big, heavy box off
a scaffold that had been left by paint.
ers Saturday evening, three stories
up the side of the structure. The
box, evidently a tool chest, was more
than ball way over the edge of the
scaffeld, and the lieutenant thanked
fortune he had seen it before the wind
iota free sweep and sent it over. He
put up ropes to keep pedestrians from
under and ran for a telephone. “Naw
that's al' right,” eaid a sleepy voice
to the cofficer over the phone. “That
box is nailed down to the scaffold. It
won't fall—we made the scaffold fast
last night.” The lieutenant went back
and removed his ropes.—Iindianapolis
News,
Bold French Apache Captured.
A dering outrage was committed by
a one-legged hooligan in the Bois de
Boulogne, Paris, early one recent
morning. Two policemen found a
young woman lying on the ground
with two knife wounds in the back.
She told them she had been attacked
by a man with a wooden leg, who had
gone away in the direction of the
Avenue Kleber, The police hurried
after the apache, and near the Arc de
Triomphe caught sight of a one-legged
man hobbling away as fast as he
could. He was ordered tv stop by the
police, but pulled out a revolver, and,
standing with his back to the wall,
shouted to a policeman who was only
a ‘cw yards away, “Stand back or |
fire.” The policeman knocked the re-
volver out of the apache's hand and
gecured him,
Couple's Many - rations,
A matrimon co 3 a curious
Kind has been created by a well-to-do
farmer of Aaran, the capital of the
canton of Argovie in SwitzeMand,
who has just married his “wife” for
the fourth time, divorcing her on four
separate occasions. The man married
another woman during one of the in-
tervals, but divorced her some months
after the wedding. The woman re
turned to her parents, and lived quiet-
ly until her former husband came to |
ask her to remarry him. The couple,
who are in love with each other and
are still young, are now on their
fourth honeymoon during eight years. |
Most Crowded City,
In a report to the Society of Medical
Jurisprudence, Prof. Elgin Gould, a the
sociological expert, says New York
city is the worst crowded metropolis
in the world. “The greatest evil in
New York is overcrowding,” he says.
“There is no city in the world that
compares with it in that respect.
There are many blocks here 800 by 200
feet, in which from 2,600 to 4,500 per-
sons are living. In one block in the
negro district 5,000 persons are living,
Bombay, next worst in this respect, is
more than half behir. . New York, and
London is only one-third as bad off.”
Trout Find New Home.
Thousands of trout were freed when
a dam went out at Sherburne Four
Corners, N. Y., the other day, and the
stream below and its tributaries were
thus automatically stocked. Trout
had congregated in this dam and grew
to great size, and except in few in-
stances resisted the attempts of an-
glers. The water was clear and there
was little cover to approach from, and
a vegetable growth covered most of
the surface of the pond, preventing the
successful use of flies.
Hatpins Must Be “Protected.”
So frequent have been the injuries
sustained in public places recently
by projecting hatpins that the city
council of Sydney, N. 8. W., has fs-
sued an ordinance, compelling the use
of “protectors” for the points. Among
those injured severely was the fed-
eral attorney general. He received a
deep gash on the cheek only half an
inch away from the eye.
Glad Anticipation.
“0, do come in tomorrow afternoon,
Mrs. Gudgele® Mrs. Gobbson, Mrs.
Stout and Mrs. Crossman are coming,
and they know all about the trouble
between Mrs. Wayland and her hus-
band. We will have a perfectly love-
ly time."—Chicago Record-Herald.
Like Dog in a Treadmill,
A young man in Cooper Union the
other night complained that every day
of Lifs life he Just rose, breakfas:ed,
worked, lunched, worked, supped, and
went to bed. That isn't }ife.—Dr.
Luther H. Gulick.—New York Globe,
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN
DAILY THOUGHT.
| The nind has a thousand eves,
Ne Rerrs paand
‘fet the light of a waole life dies
Kat of a . ife
~F. W. Bourdillon.
The newest patent leather pump has a
flat heel; so has the high Oxford tie
which has come back into fashion and
which laces well over the instep with silk
ribbon and is finished in a flat bow.
These come in Russian tan, in calfskin
and in patent leather.
The soft shoestring is considered “slop-
py” and it is replaced by the wide rib-
bon of dull silk with a thick selvedge.
| The kind of pumps that are mostly worn
today have short vamps, sometimes a '
tiny tongue and a small buckle of leather,
but they are not really pumps. They are
a modified Colonial slipper.
The other kind 4 has been the
smart thing for years is made like a
man’s evening pump, with the exception
of the heel, which is often high. The
vamp is finished with a fiat bow of cord-
ed ribbon.
In the early spring this pump was still
fashionable, and it is worn now by wom. :
en who like its smart proportions better
than they did the large ones of the Colo-
nial slipper, but the shoemakers will
probably tell you that the latter has
ousted the former.
The magpie slippers which were
brought out last summer and worn by
‘very few people, are now more popular. |
| The vamp is of black patent leather, the |
buckle is black or cut steel and the body |
of the shoe is in black and white striped |
silk. In white shoes, canvas and buck-
skin lead, and they are made into Colo-
nial slippers and Oxford ties.
These will be worn with colored stock-
ings, as they were last year, when the
costume is white or light. King’s blue,
Irish green, violet and elephant gray are
among the colors that are most frequent-
ly seen in the new silk hosiery. Open-
work and rich embroidery is not as much
sought after as the plain, heav clocking
at the side. Very sheer stoc ings are
not considered smart; there is a decided
tendency toward the heavier silks, which
' do not let the skin show through.
Children's Clothes.—It is well known
that children in America are better dress-
ed than anywhere else in the world, and
this is because simplicity rules. Our
- mothers well understand the value of
| healthful exercise, and therefore refuse |
‘to sopy the French, who dress children |
like dolls, in frocks that are ruffled and '
frilled and bowed. On the other hand,
they object to the English fashions that
make the little ones a r like diminu-
| tive men and women. They strike a hap-
| py medium, and select suitable materials :
| that are not injured by frequent visits to
| the laundry, and such goods are made in
becoming, youthful styles. American’
| mothers also appreciate the great advan- |
| tage tub goods have over woolen weaves,
, which latter must be sent to a cleaner |
| when soiled or washed at the risk of ruin- |
| ing the garment. Cotton or linen goods |
are almost exclusively for little folks’ |
frocks. The heavier weaves such as rep, |
. pique, duck, galatea and kind rten |
cloth are quite warm enough for i Cin
wear through the winter, and if during
very cold weather additional warmth is
required, an extra undergarment in the
i wey. af a flannel ee is agded.
| he evervday dresses are ost inva- |
riably of the one-piece style—that is, with :
(body and skirt joined—which great!
simplifies the making and laundering. The |
| chief charm about children’s clothes is |
their freshness, and it is much better to |
| have geveral dresses go hi} afford fre. |
quent changes, even tho t are |
made without tucks or other trimmings, |
than to limit the number and put more |
| work and expensive trimming on one or |
two |
he {
Let us talk of the everyday school
, dress, that must be both useful and pretty.
| There is a question whether white or
: colored goods are the more desirable, and
or what stains are on it a tul
makes it equal to new, while if colors
were given similar treatment they would
fade. Therefore, each must de-
cide for herself and select whichever
seems most practical.
There are three popular models for
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FARM NOTES.
~—As soon as caterpillar nests are in
evidence, burn them without delay be-
fore new colonies are formed.
—Fruit trees call for fresh air and sun-
shine. For this it is necessary to have
wide spaces between the trees.
—Gather up dead branches and burn
are apt to harbor bark
beetles, one of the worst orchard pests.
—Blackberries should be given space
in the garden, for there are few, if any,
fruits that give quicker and better re.
turns.
—One weed pulled up by the roots
- while the ground is soft beats a hundred
cut off with scythe or sickle, for the lat-
ter are most persistent and will grow
again and go to seed some day when one
is not loking.
—The waste lands lying idle after the
wheat, rye, oats, potatoes and corn are
harvested are craving for something to
i produce. A good seeding of winter vetch,
' crimson or rape will improve the soil and
give early pastures.
—No vegetable withstands severe
drought and heat so well as sweet corn.
It succeeds well in either hills or drills;
' probably in the latter plants do not blow
over so much during wet and windy
weather. The soil should be very rich
for best results.
—Never make an open ditch if it is
possible to drain the land with tile. A
tile Srain costs bo} little Snore Jean a
Properly constructed open ditch having
sufficiently sloping banks, and, unlike the
open ditch, it leaves the land perfectly
smooth, without any waste for cultiva-
tion.
—It is well worth while to have a per-
fect fitting collar for each work horse.
Collars should not be changed from one
horse to another unless the collar is fitted
method for
fitting collars is to wet them until they
become soft and pliable, then put the
collar on the horse.
—Pigs intended for market should
weigh between 250 and 300 pounds at 10
months of age or less. To make this
' weight they must be pushed from birth
to market day. The pig that makes a
good steady growth from birth to market
gives a good steady profit. It would be
better if you could keep all pigs of about
a certain size together, though you can-
not always do this.
—Four pounds of Dwarf Essex rape
sown broadcast, or three pounds drilled
| in, will give a crop in six or seven weeks.
This is one of the best feeds for sheep,
which may be put on it without water,
but with plenty of salt, at that time. This
will sustain them till they go into the
water quarters. All kinds of stock like
it. Hogs get fat on it. Forty cents’ worth
of seed will cover an acre.
—Horses should be given food free
from dust. Dusty hay has caused trouble
with the breathing organs of many a horse.
Timothy hay is a standard roughage for
the horse; it is usually cut after the dust
One should
feed a bright and not a coarse and woody
timothy. Far too much hay of this kind
has been cut when over-ripe and when it
is below par in nutriment.
——Lima beans should be picked and
or sold as soon as the least signs of
yellow show in the pods. In this way
they come from the vines green, but far
enough matured to be of the best quality
for table use. By picking all beans be-
fore they fully ripen the vines will con-
tinue bearing for a longer period. Pole
vines will continue to bear till frost
if the beans are regularly picked before
they are ripe.
—The Washington Agricultural Exper-
iment Station has been conducting _ex-
twelve. During summer differ-
ands fn varas| summer. differ.
tested on 125 acres of commercial orch-
bbing | 5rds. The total cost of making four ap-
plications to one orchard of 20 acres was
$116. All of the brands of arsenate
lead were found to be quite efficient. It
is recommedded that arsenate of lead be
-3
} applied at the Tate of one pound to
oma
at a loss and even then have his farm
more
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