Your burden in your patient arms— Apprenticed carly to your trade— You know not the alluring charms Of care-free childhood, little maid. What to you are wildwood blooms, Or singing birds, or humming bees? What to you the rare perfumes Of morn or eve beneath the trees? Know you of castles built of sand In the sunshine and the shade, And wondrous things cast out on land— Old ocean's playthings, little maid? And sometimes crushed ‘neath hurrying feet, You little mothers of the poor, How can we make your lives more sweet? How can we take your load away? How lift your burden, little maid? I wonder—know you how to play In God's sunshine and His shade? I wonder what we're going to say, Oh, little mother of the poor, Explaining on the Judgment Day Just how it happens you endure So much injustice~we who steal Your childhood, boldly, unafraid, I wonder how we're going to feel When God shall ask us, little maid. —Cora M. W. Greenleaf. BLANDING'S GREAT HOPE. Of course Blanding knew of it before the others. He was called into the office just before the curtain rose on the second ormance and told all about the bi ew York manager's decision; he woul give the play to Broadway production at once! Blanding, who had done the court news for the one local newspaper for the last two years, was thrilled with the very idea. It had seemed almost too good to be true when the town’s stock company had accepted his play for a week's run,but New York, Broadway—! Only in his wild- est dreams had he hoped for so much. The joy of it went to his head like rare wine. He was hurrying away, back of the scenes, to tell his good fortune to one whom he knew would be most interested in it, when the house-m. er called him back. He spoke a crisp, half-dozen words, but their effect on Blanding was almost beyond belief. He frowned, set his jaws firm, and said. : “I won't stand for that, Harris!” The house-manager shrugged his shoul- ders, and made a quick gesture with his hands. “You wouldn't do anything foolish, my boy,” he said. “Rest assured that Max Marcus knows what he is doing. It is his money he is risking to offer the work of an unknown playwright on Broadway, and surely you will give the right to make that risk as small as possible. Isn't it to your interest that the play be a success?” “Yes. But—" “Well, then,” and Harris smiled. “But,” said Blanding hotly, “after all she has done to make the thing a success here—" “Battlesburg isn’t New York, my boy,” interrupted the house-manager slyly. “Maybe it isn’t but Miss Wood exactly fulfills my ideal of the character,” cried Blanding. “She has helped to make my pay a success, and now I want to help make a success—in New York Rose Wood goes with the play.” Harris said nothing for a moment. The treasurer had come in with the box-office receipts, and the two men sat down at a table together. Blanding turned to go. “Shall I wire Marcus, then, that he can AIG 55 : g kg gs as he ‘ shove it at her with a pen and a fat smile. has been settled definitely,” . “Maybe I'll {col him though,” thought answered : ybe she'll prefer to act “But if ARding, Hn I” | under my management.” Mr. Blanding. It seems to me that a moment, stopped, wa 2s oid as | am,.and havitg scored the at personal success in m audi a a EY » Yes, Miss Wakefield.” : “Oh! Trust an old-timer for making the most even with a bit. And dear Rose. | all over?” he ot eagerly. —There, he's gone! Dearie me, I don't, talk about tonight with you.” believe he likes to be told he is clever.” | To which the heavy man replied: “How do you know he doesn’t?” Blanding knuckled sharply on the door o Miss Wood's dressing-room, and wait- i “Just a minute—" she called. “If you're changing—?" he said. “No. Come in. down—and then hurried on, with and she answered him. . turned. pleasure tonight,” he told her. “And what is that, Mr. Greed?” "That you are not going to play Mrs. Robley.” . ' tra was playing the finale to the piece, She was seated before her dressing ' and the call-boy had succeeded in get. table with her first-act makeup still on, ting everybody down on the stage but a forlorn, hopeless-looking girl, with red the leading-woman. eyes and tear-stained chee Blanding maid: stopped just across the threshold, guess. ing that she knew of Marcus’ decision. But she didn’t know his, and an angry light fiared up in his blue eyes. She turned, and held out her hands to him, and ne caught and held them greed- il y. “Isn't it perfectly lovely?” she said. “Oh, | I'm so glad they're going to give Broad- way a chance at ‘Hope.’ it's bound to be a ! big success, and I'm proud to think I did | Mrs. Robley first’ if only in Battlesburg.” | “You'll do it in New York if the play's . acted there,” Blanding said, grimly. For a moment her eyes shone gratefully, then she smiled, shaking her head as she saw him frown. “No,” she said. “Mr. Marcus knows “Beulah !—Miss Gillespie on the stage— Mrs. Robley on stage!” The door of her dressing-room opened and the beautiful Ida with her “charms” clutched tightly in her hands, and with the chocolate-colored Beulah following came slowly down the flight of stairs. Involuntarily Blanding looked up and watched her. He was talking to Rose. he was full of Rose and her sweetness, but somehow he was anxious for Ida Gillespie, because Ida meant so much to his play. . Then half-way down, she stepped on something and slipped. The orchestra - drowned the chorusof cries that went up from those who saw her fall. Nobody what he is doing, and he is going to get out front was any the wiser, but the star Ida Gillespie to do Mrs. Robley. And he ' of the evening had slipped on the round, has offered me the ingenue at almost | cut-glass stopper out of a scent-bottle, twice what Harris is paying me here. Of | and falling, had sprained her ankle. : course I accepted. And Miss Gillespie, | "You'll have to get her to the hospital with her beauty and genius and following, ' right away or blood isoning may set will do more for you than I could if I|in,” whispered somebody. "She's bruised tried a hundred years.” fearfujly—all turning black. There!— “I wanted you to play the part in New | she’s fainted. I thought she would. How York,” he said. | in Hades did that thing get on the stairs?” “I wanted to play it,” she told him| Nobody knew, and everybody hazarded frankly. “But for your sake—and per- | a guess. One thing was certain even to haps for my own, too—it is best as ar- | the excited manager and that was that ranged. I will get my Broadway chance, | Miss Gillespie was unable to play that even if not in a leading part—and that | night. He locked at his watch as three means much to a young actress.” : men carried her out to a taxicab, and “I wanted you to play Mrs. Robley in | stormed and raved afresh. New York,” I repeated stubbornly. i "It will mean ruin to dismiss the audi- For the briefest second she hesitated. | ence,” he hissed at Blanding. Then she laughed, and he did not guess | carelessness! what luck! how perilously near to tears she had been. | thing to do! While she was determined to keep the truth from him at any cost, her very soul cried out to be allowed to play the part on Broadway. From the minute a New York hearing was suggested as a possi- bility, she, the leading lady of a mediocre stock company, had dreamed of acting Mrs. Robley. That she had done it well, the Battlesburg Republican told her in most flowery language, but not well] “Yes,” she answered calmly. enough it seemed, for Max Marcus and| “Then get into Gillespie's clothes and ultra-wise Broadway. go on—we can cut your part for tonight,” The very moment Blanding stepped | he said. ! outside the room, she buried her face in| Blanding came out of the shadow, his her fjands and broke into the passionate, | jaw set in that firm, d way. ‘He helpless, heart-rending sobs of a child. | looked at Rose very steadily, very signif- Then Blanding knocked, and she sat up. | icantly, before he spoke to Marcus. “Yes?” what a {ool ed him on the arm. Her face was very pale, and her dark eyes shone darkly in its pallor. "You know I know the part,” she said. Marcus looked at her stupidly. “Eh—what?” he snappod. “You—you are—oh, yes, Miss Wood. You—so you do! Can you play it?” Mrs. Wood play Mrs. Robley tonight?” “Sure!” came the answer. “But a stranger to a New York audi- ence—" he hazarded. Marcus shrugged his shoulders. “If you will tell me what else there is to do, then speak up!” he cried. “We may never get the house we've got tonight in the Vendome again. You're risking the success of your play by letting Wood do thelead, I know that, but I am throw- ing in my good money. I think she'll pull us through, and if she does—" Rose smiled. - “I want to ask you something,” he said. “I am changing.” “Don’t smoke those cigarettes again— they ure not essential to the part, you know,” he told her. She forced a laugh. “All right—I prom- ise not to—on Broadway.” In spite of the jest, he felt that she would not smoke again, and made his way slowly back to the house-manager’s pri- vate office. If Rose was satisfied with the ingenue, then he might as well let Marcus produce his play with whom- soever he pleased in the leading part. She caught both of , As she started down the stairs to the meet "her. She was half way down before she ly her successes, and noting, in almost “Let me be the first to congratulate | saw him, and when she did she hesitated wonderment that her failure was yet to stooped down, as if come. She had known almost unheard to pick something up—or lay Something of triumph from the first. “There is only one thing that mars my | He called to her ' stopped to see before. Then Rose came up to him and touch- | “Do you think it is perfectly safe to let | i —well, then, when Mr. Blanding steps i “Hope” was the of the five until the new came, but she had been able to make money out ot even the worst of them for him. She had gained steadily in favor until, at the end of five years, her position on Broad- way was as great as the strength of Gib- tar, i Shroigh a these years Blanding had followed her in silence, watching careful- He was reading the reviews when Mar- and averted eyes. She seemed : cus called him on the telephone. all out of breath when he spoke to her’ “It's about Rose,” he said. “That silly girl tells me she's going to leave the stage. with me after it’s She says your new play will carry to suc- “I'd like to cess without her, and she wants to go back to Battlesburg. Go to her, Bland | “Yes. That will be lovely,” she re- ing. You knew her in the old days. Tell her what an idiot she is—" He went. She received him as if they had parted but yesterday, and then as old and dear friends. Yet in the five years since she became the premiere of “Hope,” Rose had never spoken a word to Bland- She was silent a moment. The orches- ing that did not relate in some way to business. She had changed somewhat in those five years, how auch Blanding had never ' She was no long- er agit but a woman, and she looked ! tired. “Marcus sent you," were her first | words. “I am sorry for his sake for he i has been a good friend to me, but while 'T was with him I proved a good invest. ment, and now that I want to go, he ! ought not to try to stop me, I am deter- | mined to go.” "Why?" asked Blanding curtly. “Because you have written a good play, and you don't need me any longer. The apers all say that, so why shouldn't I? ‘It is true. Three of your plays have been very bad, you know, and vet because I ‘am a fad on Broadway, they have made ' money. This play will bring you money in spite of me, and that is the true way toget at a thing's value. It is very !good. I have always liked ‘Hope’ the | best of them all,” she added. { “I have cursed myself again and | again for having ever written that play,” { he cried. “It made all the trouble be- | tween us. I loved you so, I love you | now, but Rose, it was a wicked thing to o!” 3 “I know what you think,” she return. ; ed, with a wintry smile. “And because I do, I am going to tell you something. It was not L.” | “But I saw you lay something on the , atairs just before Ida came down—"he gasped. i hed laughed. “A cigarette! I had | | promised you I wouldn't smoke again, if | ! you remember, but Gillespie was afraid | “What , the cigarettes would injure her voice and | I had suggested that she try the ones the | boys smoke, I think they call them cinna- { mon cigarettes. I had bought a pack of | | them, and showed her how to use them, | j and i had the end of one unlighted, be- | | tween my lips when I came out of my | room. Then I saw you in the wings and | remembered my promise, and so, when I! thought you weren't looking, I st down and dropped it on the stairs. e | | stopper from the scent bottle—" ! | “Rose!” he cried. “can you forgive | me?" “Aster five years?"—I think I can,” she | ! said. She held out her hand and rose, ' slowly, languidly. “Good morning. Tell | Mr. Marcus I am determined—I will 20 | | back to Battlesburg.” Then she touch | | ed the bell for her maid. Blanding stood there, with eyes closed, | and hands clinched. He loved her, he had always loved her. But he had loved | fairness—more? No. No, not that, only | —What an idiot he had been, how blind, how foolish. Rose saw him go. The curtains closed behind him, and she made no sign. Out- side in the hall she heard the elevator doors come together as the cage shot | downward with him in it. She looked around the empty room, wildly. Then, with a crw, she ran to the telephone. “Is this the office?” she cried. “Yes? | rough-weather wear. N7 v FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN DAILY THOUGHT. Not a bit of sorrow, not a bit of care; A sunnier tomorrow, with music everywhere: Of joy the sweetest portion, of love the fullest Safe conduct o'er life's ocean—what could I wish you more? —~Grace Agnes Thompson. While it may seem rather premature to speak of fall styles in warm weather, yet when one considers that fall fashions have been decided upon for some time it is fit that we know of them. Even in summer the woman who spends her vacation at the seashore, in the coun- try or mountains needs to be prepared for cool weather. When the first chilly crispness enters the night and morning air heavier frocks should be worn, even if midday does call for linen and mull, Summer clothes called into service the carly part of the season are by this time faded and bedragged trom constant wear and laundering. It is a wise precaution to provide sev- eral frocks of serge, silk or cashmere for the tag end of the summer. At this time tailors and dressmakers are not extremely busy and are willing to make reasonable reductions in their prices to customers who order now. Some women argue that it is unwise to replenish wardrobes during between sea- sons. They claim that the styles aren't the latest. This, however, is a mistake. Paris decides the fashions far enough ahead to allow the dressmakers and tailors ample time to prepare their models for the coming season. The woman who has conservative tastes will experience little difficulty, for she will not select spectacular modes or nov- elties which hardly last over the fall open- ings. White serge is one of the resources of autumn. A costume of this material does not look out of place in summer. The quality selected now should be slight- ly heavier than that popular for summer wear. The weave should be coarse. There are new models in cutaway coat effects. They are longer and more close- ly resemble the Directoire lines than those of the spring. One stunning model has a smart little coat ending at the waist line in front over a belt of black patent leather. Slop- ing from the sides toward the back is a square-cut peplum. The skirt is kilted, with each pleat bound with a band of narrow silk braid. Light-weight cheviot is another smart material for the early fall suit. An at. tractive model fashioned of this has a coat slightly below the hips in length. A collar of moire finishes the neck line. Three buttons are used to fasten the coat at the side front. A vest and Robes- pierre collar of white broadcloth adds a | smart touch. The skirt is perfectly plain and well tailored. A V-shaped inset in front has a row of buttons extending through the center. Black-and-whitechecked materials are to be much worn. This usually meets with instant success and makes up well. One suit of black-and-white shadow plaid has a coat sharply cutaway in front. The wide revers and edge of the coat were bound with black silk braid. A vest of chamois-colored broadcloth bound with brown silk braid and patch pockets of the checked material completes this at- tractive coat. The skirt has a panel front and back and plain sides to within eighteen inches of the hem. A flounce of wide box pleats fills in this space. This is headed with a band of black silk braid. Corduroy will be used for suits for The Norfolk jacket style with belt of patent leather is a fa- vored model. The skirt to these suits are plain, gored and buttoned up the cen- ter t, where the line of buttons meets that of the coat, extending the full length | of the costume. Rough homespuns and striped materi- | als will also pay an important part in fall fashions. e tendency of stripes to | produce slender lines is responsible for | FARM NOTES. —Keep the brooder houses in a clean sanitary condition, and never overcrowd. —Burnt corn has been used to good advantage. This is one way of supply- ing charcoal. —The barn is a splendid place for the chickens but they should not be allowed to appropriate it exclusively. —One of the easiest ways to stiffen up a horse is to compel him to stand on a plank floor when not at wook. —Pullets hatched in May can be brought to laying by November, if they are properly fed and cared for. —Too many people who get good re- turns for a smail flock figure that the re- turns for a large one will be in propor- tion. —To keep parsley all winter put the roots in boxes or pots and keep them in the house, where they will furnish a win- ter supply of leaves, —Potato buyers and consumers find an altogether too large per cent. of sun- burned potatoes. It is evident that the growers will have to plant the seed deeper or pay more careful attention to hilling up the crop. .m=An instance of what manure will do in improving the pear crop was given b George T. Powell, at a Doracan TL ing. He made an experiment on Seckel pear trees, giving them a whole load of manure per tree. Fruit from these trees was put on exhibition the next season. The pears were so large that the iudges ruled them out as Seckles and called them Sheldon. —The squirrels of the United States rank as nature's most important chest. nut, hickory and walnut tree planters. Contrary to common belief, they do not lay up their winter store of nuts in a mass: instead, each nut is buried sepa- rately, and since they never need one- tenth of the provender they store, what they do not consume germinates, and in this manner we get the uniform nut tree forests, which would otherwise grow in clusters under the parent trea where nuts fall. —In the great eastern Virginia potato belt the growers follow the method of plowing the potatoes out with a small turn plow. Laborers follow the plow, gather the potatoes from the soil and throw four or five rows together in piles. They are taken from the piles, carefully graded and barreled for immediate ship- ment. In some portions of the Virginia potato-growing districts the barrels are examined by regularly-appointed inspec- tors. If they are found to be up to stand- ard they are given a uniform brand, which guarantees the quality. _—Asparagus plant is hardy. It requires six weeks for the seed to germinate and ‘ come up. The young plants may be culti- vated in rows as other garden vegetables and set in permanent rows or beds this fall or spring. The plants are very hardy, will stand all kinds of treatment, but will respond liberaily to good treat- ment, and will thrive in one place for 10 to 20 years. The asparagus plant is doubly useful. The young shoots can be used for food and the foliage branches for decoration. Sprays of asparagus are equaled few other plants for their pleasing effect in decoration. —Each year concrete is more exten. sively used on the farm—for foundation walls, for building, for cisterns, for silos, for stable floors, for walks about the house, for porch steps and numerous oth- er purpcses. It is a step that has at- tractiveness and durability to recommend it. When properly put down, concrete proves to be both economical and perma- nent. It is estimated that concrete work for foundations, which includes both materi- al and labor, will cost from 27 to 30 cents have your play only on the condition that Miss Wood d tire lead in New York their popularity with the majority of per cubic foot. Concrete cellar floors oes the lead in New Yor “Am I to go on then?” she asked. { from the elevator, ask him to come u There was around the Vendome women. ei Som uction?” asked Harris, without rais- his eyes from the 8 You've got it,’ oh i Blanding de- cisively. i He passed through the darkned audi- torium on his way to that delightfully mysterious region known as back of the scenes. The curtain was up on the first act, and he waited a moment in the shad- ows of the boxes to see Rose Wood make her entrance. A storm of applause her- | hai alded her appearance on the stage, for she was a great local favorite, this slim, pretty slip of a girl, with her brown eyes and hair, and a voice which was as sweet and as clear as a bell. Blanding’s play was a comedy, smart, t, clever, ing with divorce from a nctly new viewpoint which was as novel as it was whimsical. Rose was the chief divorcee in this paradise of divorced women, and she played her scenes with real charm on “Frankly, they choke me, and I'm sure they'll hurt my voice, but I think “Yes; they" yo he ed ‘Yes; re as - Mr. Bland- 2 z 8 £ 5 ZE the women.in the world might smoke with pleasure, but t she put her cigarettes again to. or and Blandi amused at her awk- wardness in 4 i rl es £ Lf BIEIEfET Jt ld Hitt 2 il Sab : iE = Theater that bustle and confusion that usually precedes a first-night in New York. From the producing manager to the girl ushers everyone was nervous and excited. The beautiful Miss Gillespie, who Just Rave taken part ina Jrndred premieres, scol long-suffering m unmercifuily, and then went majestically up to her ng-room on the second floor, alone, to do over her wonderful red r. Blanding, on the stage, saw her go. The scarcity of space behind the scenes at the Vendome had made it necessary to have even the star’s room on the second floor, and he wondered if it was this “Indeed you are!” came emphatically from Marcus. “Thank you.” She threw Blanding a look of triumph. “You need not hold the curtain a moment for me Mr. Mar- cus,” she added. “I can play the first act in Hause things I have on. I'm ready, es » oy announcement was made ast the n ng-women owing Gillespie's sudden illness, and the next morning Rose Wood awakened to find herself the most talked about actress in column to the new “find” who was de- clared superb, charming, an artiste to her New York. The critics devoted half a | P¢¢2 to Miss Wood's apartment. There something she forgot to tell him.”"—By W. Carey Wonderly, in National Monthly, Mona Lisa Destroyed not Stolen. In its “Notes from Paris” the London frocks : Truth gives what its correspondent as-| a square’s walk in the ci streets, and | yet of all the women or them how few in them. i It does seem as if this style of suit a certain type Gray and black, dark blue and white, | black and white, red and blue and tan and brown will be among the leading | combinations. Since Norfolk suits are : ; vre, a vengeful smarting at| The to young | dismissal, having poured sulphuric acid girls, those re who between the aes of over the picture. was com- 10 to 14 look their very best when be- | little past eight o'clock and vet there onz--Rose EE i ft 3 : i which made the leading woman angry. s play which they called the same old Ith the others he, (00 as (05 nervous | thing, uid in, he same old way. but 0 e Sa. —Rose t was and wished Rose Wood was going to play First Mrs. Robley. He went to the curtain then and look- ed out at the empty theater. It was a ine play and a half-dozen lines to Bland- wasn't a dozen persons in the house. It frightened him, and when the violins be- | xp. Na it'll take them until the second to get fixed in their seats. | go away and say they couldn't ‘see’ the : play—and how can , when they'vem 7 { 1H gg a : § : gz wa 2 i i : : i fitisd 5 fr i IH 23 i g ; : y : : is ; § : £25 Bre £ ig = i: ! f ie {li Leys i ir g g 5 5 ; al § in fl HH i : : : ; Hi 28s i ih 2g5E i i : 1 § E 2 3 A £1 5 : | ii : i } = @ " gf 5 g 82 i | =i: £%5 i 4H guise thelr waistline, and this the Nor- does, for the belt must hang loose in | front to be correct. ! ha With a Panama hat, a white linen or colored suit in this design looks decided- ly chic on little “Miss Sixteen.” How wkward, howeve i if : 5 g 2 : re fs iz g fs : nj iif Sie Feit felast Hi E i : § Li 5 2 i a Ei gf I Lo ah f ¢ g ! i eg F 5 : ii ! | I i : : 8 7 lit I E51 : : E i i ii and walks, four inches thick, cost from $1.10 to $1.50 per square yard. The best concrete is made of Portland cement, sand and crushed rock. Sand taken from a pitis best. It should be from such : ily | is g
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers