Bellefonte, Pa., August 23, 1912.
It Isn't the Thing You Do.
It isn't the thing you do, dear,
It’s the thing you leave undone
That gives you a bit of a heartache
At the setting of the sun.
‘The tender word forgotten;
The letter you did not write;
The flower you did not send, dear,
Are your haunting ghosts tonight.
The stones you might have lifted
Out of a brother's way;
The bit of a heartsome counsel
You were hurried too much tosay;
The loving touch of the hand, dear,
‘The gentle, winning tone,
Which you had no time nor thought for
‘With troubles of your own.
Those little acts of kindness
So easily out of mind,
Those chances to be angels
Which we poor mortals find
They come in night and silence
Each sad reproachful wraith,
When hope is faint and flagging
And a chill has fallen on faith.
For life is all too short, dear,
And sorrow is all too great,
To suffer our slow compassion
‘That tarries until too late;
And it isn't the thing you do, dear,
It’s the thing you leave undone,
Which gives you a bit of heartache
At the setting of the sun.
—Margaret E. Sangster.
PEGGY’S SUMMER.
“This letter, Peggy,” said the Mater,
somewhat doubtfully over her
”
? Her mother has tak-
Mater looked a little embarrass-
Peggy, dear, that's just the
you count very much on
Farms? Would you be disap.
six for nothing, and who knew from atar
the signs of coming trouble.
“Well, Peggums, what's up?” he inquir- |
od, genially, P 's gray eyes turned
slowly rr, Her chin SLEW square.
“For three years,’ she , tragical-
ly, “I've been cheated out of The Farms.
Year before last I was young enough to
go to the shore with the children. The
Aout year Tithe) was sick, and | Bx! 1o go
with to Grandmother's. The room
had to be given up to your old chum last
year, because he took you to Maine. Now
that I'm seventeen and nobody’s sick and
1 can have Janet's room, something turns
up. Idon’t think it's fair, and, if it's
Grandmother's, I just won't go! So
there!”
“But it's not Grandmother's,” said the
Mater, mildly, and if you'll only listen,
Pi ”
“Bick sat down in the morris-chair and
ulled into his lap. Then he wound
braid lightly about her mouth, and,
holding her down with one arm, made a
polite gesture with the other.
“We're all attention, Mater,” he re-
marked, “proceed!”
“She's your father’s oldest sister,” said
the Mater, with a grateful smile at Dick,
“and she was named for his mother—
just like P . We've never seen any-
thing of her, Pater and I, since we were
married. She's a sort of invalid, I be-
lieve, and lives very quietly in an old
farm-house in New Hampshire. She gave
Peggy her silver wg and that coral
cross, and now she writes that she'd like
to have her for the summer, if we can
spare her.”
“Ugh!” P tore away from the
braid. *‘She didn’t mean to be c,
1 suppose, but she doesn't know that
I'm easier spared than not, a tly!
A jarm in New Hampshire! t Ethel
0, Now, P , dear, be reasonable! She
hasn't thel. And as Jor Soaring
you—you ought to remem you
are the third girl and that Janet and
Ethel come first naturaily. If only you
could see, child dear, that being youn
only means that you have more time
fore ir
ink, Margaret,” whispered Dick,
sepulchrally, “that when you are sixty-
nine you may sport at The Farms un-
challenged! What bliss!”
Peggy giggled, hysterically. The Mater
went on more earnestly.
“And it seems so very fortunate just
The twins could have
they're old enough not to be in
now, and—"
“And I'm old h to be ou tof it!”
muttered » y.
Dick pulled her hair gently and hugged
“It’s too bad, Peggums, but I'm afraid
ve got to!” he said, confidentially.
Mater took the hint and left the
room.
“I know just how you
feel old girl, and
I know or The
had your plans laid f
Richardson
tutor, I knew I ought to.
will pay quite a little toward my Senior
expenses. And six is a pretty big family,
and it's hard to get things planned out,
sometimes. Now with you and Janet
=
i
gt
if
gE
:
Ll
4
i
t
i
2
§
:
}
i
§
58
college—? Look
stop thins I'll give you that Dig blue four-
in- of mine!”
There were crumbs of comfort by the
way, for Pater sent her wheel up ahead
of her; Dick lent her his second-best
jointed rod; Mother made her a fascinat-
ing shade-hat; and Ethel, in a itent
mood, offered her side-saddle iding-
habit in case there should be anything to
ride on the farm. She was even able to
these might prove useful +to her!
when Dick's chum, Arthur, sent her a
spirited pen-and-ink sketch wherein a
lanky, barefoot maiden in a gingham
sunbonnet picked berries into an enor-
mous tin pail, over the title, “A Square
Peg in a Round Hole,” she promised to
pascepiiout it 0g hang kn dhe Ne
rary. They were very to
promised to write often, and there
a great deal in having the Pater tell
that she'd never disappointed him
she confided to Dick.
green organdie into the
and d a tear on
t: it d have been
so jolly to wear it on the rocks with Win
Richardson! Win pitied her very much.
But she left them at the station with a
brave smile, and answered Dick's warn-
ings not to let the ice freeze in her pitch-
er—as it always did in the country—and
not to mind eating cold greens, with the
kindly advice not to try to teach the
Richardson boys much more than he
knew, and then the train rolled away.
She knew they would laugh at her if
she confided to them her schemes for
studying “lots of German,” writing essays
enough for next winter, and making most
of her Christmas presents, but she began
detailed plans for all these on the train,
with intervals of wonder about the aunt
she had never seen. She was kindly, to
begin with; her letter had been very
sweet and simple. She had a sense of
humor, or she would never called her-
self “a dull old ;" nobody who was
really dull would have said that. And
she appreciated the condition of things,
evidently, for she had assured the Mater
that she would do her best to entertain
her namesake in any of the simple ways
at her command had
ing now? Eating supper on
on: Tc fff aying
dolin. en they would sail up the
er, later, and sing in the gil
she would be in a coun
“This must be little Margaret!” she
sad, eagerly, “Oh, we are so glad to see
asked away for the summer, and the boys | You
here with us, quite a lot will get saved.
“We? We?” repeated Peggy, ly,
climbing into the Bo
5
ted | like my marriage to
}
ft
i
|
E
hs
y
Ski
I
fd
44 .
83
=
£47
H
i
i
gis
li
i
iE
i
Ed
BF
i
|
8
Ih
fee
g
if
he
it
7
:
:
z
:
i
i
£
sBif
iit
g
F
:
£4
8
i
b
I
8
§
5
i
fe dE
i
8
:
of a
long, low-ceiled dining-room, and talked
pleasantly to her in her deep, English
voice, while a white-aproned maid serv-
ed her cold chicken and feathery rolls
rich country cream
“ ‘Cold geeens'"!
e. .
“I beg pardon?” said Adelaide, politely.
“Nothing—nothing at all!” she mur-
mured, “only somet ng my brother said
that I was thinking of!
“Now I will take you in to Aunty—she
is quite looking forward to seeing you,”
Adelaide led the way up-stairs again,
a ne
unt grown quite mysteri-
ous by now; the vision of a plump lady
with short skirts driving her new-found
niece in a rusty buggy to an accompani-
ment of voluble family history had faded,
and only a vague jealousy of this English
girl who knew her father’s sister better
than she did had taken its place.
Adelaide knocked softly, and entered.
On the threshold aught her
breath. A very beautiful old lady, all in
lavender silk, with a tiny lace cap on her
silvery head, and a little ebony crutch by
her side—a veritable fairy godmother—
Sat > 2 long French, wil ow in the fad-
ng light. A great white Angora cat nes-
tled beside her; a quaint wall.
paper with pale water-colors of English
scenes and beautiful old chairs and ta.
bles of three tions ago formed the
most perfect und for her erect,
slender little figure.
She held out her hands as Peggy
came nearer, and as the girl sank upon
a little stool by her side leaned over
and kissed her forehead lightly.
“This is Richard's daughter, is it?” she
said. “Let me see you closer, little Mar-
garet!” ;
P blushed under the searching
scrutiny; but the eyes were of her own
gray, and the chin was almost as square
as hers; so she laughed a little, and said,
shyly,
nd this is Richard’s sister!"
The oid smiled, well Plegssd.
thought Peggy, with a
“Oh, we hold our own, the Wilburs!.
she said. Then more vely, and dis-
missing Adelaide by a little sign, “and
you are the young lady who came up in
the country to amuse your old aunt, my
dear. She takes it very kindly of you.”
Peggy blushed furiously.
“I—1 didn't want to come at first,” she
confessed, honestly.
The old lady smiled again.
"So Ri wrote me,” she answered,
quietly. “He and I u each
other, though I haven't seen him for
many a year. | suppose you wonder
w
Pegey nodded, too excited to speak.
“Well, I asked him to let me tell you,
and it's no | story. I married an
Englishman, my , and I planned for
Jour father tn cont out with us to Eng.
and and settle there, but he wouldn't
hear of it. I was much older than he,
and I felt that I was t; he did not
n with, and he
= hi . untick eh t,
or him, we n anger, almos
and drifted further and further a
My husband's business kept him in .
land, and I was too proud to jnge Richard
to reconsider his decision. I have only
seen him three times in twenty-five years
—it seems terrible, doesn’t it, my dear?
But the drift by so quickly, and
one thinks that next year, next year, it
will be different!
“Now I have come back to America—
to die here, I . My Margaret
Rd aio me to show
me that our stu,
pid quarrel is over and
done! It was my fault; I should not have
tried to arrange his life.
“Will you try to love your Aunt Mar.
garet a little?”
P
i
:
:
gai
i
ge
i
hid
Hh
gd
8
§8z
:
§
gE
§5
i
i
nT
®
5
id
4
il
Fe
28
®
-
i
|
fi
g
:
:
g
iE
uare Peg one. It
“PEGGY.”
—By Josephine Daskam Bacon, in
Bazaar.
For a long time naturalists have been
experimenting with various forms of ani-
mal life with a view to determining
whether such animals possess “a sixth
sense,” one that enables them to seek
out desired places, even when they have
Been transported a great distance there-
rom.
Among the first to experiment in this
way was the French scientist Fabre,
whose investigations concerned chiefly
the wasp family.
| Fabre pain
| a dozen wasps with white pigment; thrust
filled in a tightly closed box that was car-
ried over two miles from the place where
Se foun, liberated, they
e wasps were rat
flew off in various directions. Fabre re-
turned to the nest about five hours after
the liberation, to observe the was
that were coming and going. e
soon found four wasps whose breasts
were painted with the white pigment;
and it was not long before the others so
adorned arrived.
| It was contended, from these experi-
| ments, that the evidence showed that the
wasps could not have found their nests
either by the sense of smell or by that of
sight; and it was therefore maintained
that they were possessed of a sixth sense,
called by some the "sense of location” or
“orientation.”
Further experiments were of still great-
er interest. Nine wasps were caught,
painted white, and taken to the centre of
| a city, some four miles distant from their
nest. These wasps at once flew up above
the roofs of the city, and immediately
took a southern course toward their nest.
The next day five of these wasps were
found in the nest.
Another member of the wasp family
that appears to possess the sixth sense
referred to is the “parasite " that
one which lays its eggs in the cells of the
“mason bee.” U the completion by
the mason bee of its cells, are de-
posited in it, and food is pl by these
eggs for the use of the young bee when
it shall be hatched. When these meas-
ures have been taken, the mason bee
thinks to clinch the matter by sealing the
cell under clay. The clay, in turn, is
surrounded with a wall of mortar made
of mud, and around this is placed a wall
of earth baked into a solid mass by the
sun. Now, about the time the egg has
" hatched into the larva, comes the parasite
wasp. It stalks over the wall with its
sensitive feelers daintily sounding this
and that bit, and, at the precise moment
that it reaches the spot whereunder the
cell lies, the wasp begins to bore, this
task consuming a number of hours.
To consider the case of other than in-
sects in this connection, attention may be
called to the actions of the striped seal,
that builds her house many miles from
the open sea, in most cases. The seal
dives under the floe, and swims about
until she hits upon a spot that is shel-
tered from the sea and the wind. Then
she rises, breaks the ice, and constructs
a vaulted chamber under the snow. Here
the young ones are safe until they attain
a growth sufficient to enable them to
e to the water.
Now, the only entrance te this hut is
through the opening in the ice, and this
can be only after swimming at
least a mile and a half to two miles un-
der water. Naturalists aver that the
Striged seal Swine aay tom her dwell-
ng every morning n the open
sea; that she has absolutely no guide for
her return voyage; that there is entire
darkness in the water under the ice;
that the bottom of the floe resents, the
same appearance everywhere, but t,
nevertheless, the seal finds her home
every night as surely as if her road were
as brightly illuminated as a city street.
There are some le who think that
fresh air and out door exercise will keep
a man in perfect health. Yet a trip
through a farming country will discover
any number of farmers suffering with
stomach trouble. It's the usual story:
Too much work, too little rest, and un-
a oa
a er organs on and nutri-
Nem ben through the he hile Ao 5
m consequent lack o!
nutrition and the corruption of the blood
supply. Dr. Pierce's Golden Medical
news the
re-
the the blood, nourishes the nerves, and gives
vitality to every organ of the body.
To Prosecute Expectorators.
Chief of police John W. Ryan, of Dal.
las, Tex, has instructed the EPatrolingn to
and in ng This
the advisabili
for this law
glad to do it.
for the . book,
for cloth binding, to Dr.R. V.
Buffalo, N. Y.
the abdomen of each of
each insect into a small paper cylinder,
* | and then deposited all the cylinders thus
i FROM THE WOMAN'S CLUB.
Guaranteed receipts contributed by
| the Publicity Committee.
BEEPSTEAK PIE.
i
| with the flour and seasonings until the
meat is all in the crock, with the flour,
| salt and pepper on top. Cover this with
| cold water placing a plate as cover. Bake
lin oven for 4 or 5 hours, replenishing
| with hot water as it cooks dry, as this
| will make a rich gravy, to be served with
the meat. Then
! squares, placed on a deep hot meat plat-
| ter is arranged and the meat and gravy
| poured over.
|
i CREAMED EGGS POR LUNCHEON.
| One half dozen hard boiled eggs cut in
| halves, make a white sauce as follows.
2 teaspoons of butter, 2 tablespoons of
flour; melt butter and stir in flour, then
add slowly 3 pint of milk and a little
salt, pepper and chopped celery. Pour
over eggs and serve in dish garnished
with parsley.
CORN PUDDING.
2 cups corn grated, 2 eggs beaten
arately, 1 cup cream or rich milk, 1 table-
spoon of butter, 1 tablespoon of sugar,
until a light brown.
CANNED CORN.
9 pints of corn cut off the cob, one cup
of sugar, one cup of salt. Mix and let
stand for awhile, put in a granite kettle
and let it come to a boil, stirring occa-
|
| sionally. Can in glass, putting corn in |
i solid, if not enough juice add boiling
water.
RICE WAFFLES.
One and one-half cups of cold boiled
rice, 13 pats of flour, i cup of tin sour
cream, 1 tablespoon of sugar,
of soda, 1 teaspoon of salt, 3 eggs. Beat
and sugar together and to the
ce and salt. Stir soda into the cream,
add to first mixture, and finally the flour.
Bake in hot buttered waffle irons.
SCALLOPED TOMATOES.
Scald and peel one-half dozen toma-
toes. Set them in a buttered baking-
dish, sprinkle with pepper, salt, and a
dust of po sugar. Cover with
brown.
CORN OYSTERS.
Scrape, or grate the corn from the
cob, then to 1 coffee cup of corn take 2
eggs. Make a batter of a little milk and
flour seasoning with salt, stir in corn,
drop by spoonfuls and fry in hot but-
ter. Serve 5 persons.
CHOCOLATE PUDDING.
1 quart milk, 1 pint of fine bread
CE eggs, 1 cup of sugar and 2
quans of altel Shocole, Beat Jogeih
er w an avor wit! teaspoon of
vanilla. Bake in a buttered dish. Serve
with cold whipped cream.
BAUBERRIES,
—1 cup nuts and raisnis chopped, 1
cup sugar, juice and rind of 1 lemon.
Beat ood gradually add sugar, lemon and
lastly fruit. Put 1 teaspoon of the
mixture on a round of pie dough, cover
and press tightly. Bake about one-half
ur.
RICE SOUFFLE.
Make a roux of one tablespoon of but-
ter and one of flour, heated and stirred
together in a saucepan. When smooth
pour in one sup of heated milk with one
teaspoon ©! powder. Remove
from fire, and when luke warm, beat into
the sauce 1 cup of cookedrice and 3
beaten separately. Bake in pudding
in quick oven.
SCALLOPED APPLES.
Pare a dozen apples and slice thin.
Butter a dish, put in a layer of apples,
then a layer of sugar, cinnamon, butter
and flour, then another layer of apples,
etc., until the dish is full. Bake slowly
for one hour.
“My face is my fortune, sir, she said.”
The old rhyme rings true in that line.
The woman who has a fair face has a
fortune which many a man of wealth is
to wed for. It is a shame, there-
ore, to squander the fortune provided by
the fairy god-mother, Nature. Yet, we
see girls fair as the budding roses, sud-
denly lose their beauty and fade, as the
rose fades when the worm is at its heart.
ho: er, 0) Seat
are ut the face grows thin
Ee Fortunate is such a
woman if some friends should tell
Be a
WO! y organs to the
and point her to that almost unfailing
cure for feminine diseases. Dr. Pierce's
dimples, the
t eye and smooth skin
which are the
of beauty.
Several thousand cards have been print-
im | ed by the Erie health department with
rules for the management of communica-
ble diseases and contacts, revised up to
date by City Health Officer J. W. Wright.
cards will be distributed
nst
the patients
Watch Vacant Lots.
ng | what we look for.
biscuit crust cut in | i
3D" | that she
salt to taste. Bake in moderate oven a
buttered dry crumbs, and bake until |
oo
-
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN
DAILY THOUGHT.
Get into the habit of looking for the silver lining
of the cloud, and when you have found it con-
tinue to look for it, rather than at the leaden
gray in the middle, It will help you over many
hard places.—A. A. Willits.
The habit of ridiculing everthing and
everybody is one that every woman
should avoid. We always find in others
It is such a mistake
to cultivate the habit of lool for the
grot or the ridiculous.
|
the
| say t once, therefore, that
| ment of the hair is a study—not
| dent, as it seem
| those who have not studied
' coiffeur. For example, i
' endowed by nature with
~
woman—there
; must always bear in mind
i her , to do
ways, of course, tal
| overdo the fullness.
| with what I think may
{as “a round face” will be wise to
| keep the fullness of her hair at the side
, within bounds, and to dress her hair in
| front as high as she reasonbaly can,there-
|b adding that length to her face which
e lacks. One more golden rule. The
| woman with a suggestion of an oval face
should, as far as possible, endeavor to
| preserve that suggestion of “ovalness” by
dressing her hair “ovally.”
Many years’ experience has proved to
| me that, beyond all manner of doubt, a
| woman may make or mar herself b the
manner in which she has her hair dress-
ed. To the average French woman this
i remark will surely come more or less as
| a truism, for your modern French wom-
| 2h JcstEses Mole LUIS artistic instincts
| in this direction that the average English
woman, who all too sudden studies the
formation of her face when giving direc-
tions for the dressing of her hair.
! A specialist on the subject of rugs says
that in furnishing a room the rug Ds
| be chosen first. Then the decorations
| should be decided upon, that they may
{ above all things be in harmony with the
{ rug. Walls toned to harmonize with rugs
| are better than those papered.
—
i
That friendly feature of fashion that
| can be traced to the ancient Greeks and
| Romans is helping womankind to achieve
| beauty at small cost. Tunics are still
salient facts in the story of styles and, it
| may be added, are more attractive and
| varied than ever.
I The commendable point in summer tu-
nics is the fact that a new tunic trans-
| forms an old gown. If your silk frock,
; your linen dress or your chiffon evening
gown be of last year’s making, it can be
brought up to this year's plane of modis-
tic merit by the addition of a tunic. Here
are the latest models that show a differ-
ence in line, but emphasize the same idea
that has stood the test of seasons.
The batiste model seen recently has a
| deep-pointed yoke and a wide border
formed of lines of soptache braid. The
front peplum resembles a short, round
a , and the back is cut in similar line.
model slips on over the head, and
is fastened at the sides by means of lin-
en-covered buttons.
What is more attractive than a net tu-
nic over a silk dress? Here we have op-
portanily to use Arabian or ratine lace
n an irregular border, which can sur-
round a top trimmed with the heavy lace.
The back is made on the same straight
Nis, nq a silk girdle holds the tunic in
p
For evening a panier of chiffon, trim-
med with beads and embroidered on the
edges, is an important feature. It can
cover the satin dress worn with it
at the skirt. Thedra, -
ed skirt and the bunch of silk roses are
new points to be observed. Any evening
dress of last year will form the founda-
tion for the separate tunic of today.
The linen or lawn frock is not exempt
from the influence of the tunic. Rows of
batiste insertion and lace form the front
points that cover the bodice and extend
the waist line in a large panel. A
vest of lace fills in thespace between the
two wide pieces that are passed over the
shoulders. This is one jof the easiest
forms to make.
i
—There are many good newspapers
published, but none that is quite as good
as the DEMOCRATIC WATCHMAN. Try it.