Bemorvaiic aidan,
Bellefonte, Pa., February 12, 1915.
Their First Love.
_ [By H. M. Egbert,]
‘The two houses had formed one in
more spacious days, but where the
stout brick chimney reared itself
through the center of the frame build-
g a brick wall had been built in, ex-
tending from the cellar to the roof,
and converting the one home into two.
The only symbol of communion be-
tween the disunited parts of what had
been organically one was that, on
windy days, smoke from a stove set
against the chimney on either side
would issue down the flue into the
stove in the adjacent room. Ard
sometimes, too, if any one listened at
the sheet iron, one could hear words
spoken upon the other side.
When Frank Barton and Ida Norris
were children they had played at this
game; but that was long ago. The
intimacies of the old house were not
evoked by childish play any more.
Both were immeasurably old—each
was twenty.
The double house stood in a small
town, just such a town as may be seen
almost anywhere in New England,
neither rich nor poor, and proud of
its history. Greenfield folks prided
themselves on being ordinary Ameri-
cans. Immigration had hardly
touched them, for there was only one
factory, and the French Canadian
hands had something of the colonial
tradition about them.
The Bartons and the Norrises had
lived there for fifteen years, and had
known each other for fifty. Sometimes
the elders looked at each other from
their opposite sides of the double pi-
azza and smiled, when the boy came
home, carrying the girl's schoolbooks
for her, while she stepped at his side
with all the assurant ownership that
a small girl feels for her childish
sweetheart.
But that was years before. The
change of adolescence had set a bar-
rier between the young people's lives.
Frank was in the local bank now. Per-
haps he earned $12 a week. Ida stayed
home and helped hor mother.
The thing that happened came all
in a moment. The girl had pictured
it a thousand times, the boy never;
but it was just as surprising to each.
One moment they were friends, chat-
ting together on thé piazza, wonder-
ing whether the rain would kill the
gypsy moths that devastated the shade-
trees; and the next they were looking
at each other in amazed wonder.
What is more inarticulate than love
at twenty? The strange helplessness,
She Was Alone, Too.
the sense of some tremendous power
that holds one in terror of self-reve
lation; caprice and shyness, as inex:
plicable to one as to the other! For
instance:
“Best get ready for the picture show,
Ida.”
“I'm not coming, Frank.”
“Aw, why not, now? You said you
would. This is the last night of the
week, and there won't be another in
town for an age.”
“I don’t care; I'm not Going” she
anwered, snatching her hand away as
he pulled at her wrist coaxingly.
“Leave me alone!”
| “Why, Ida!” exclaimed the boy, look-
ing in wonder at her flushed face, “I
Yfu aren’t mad at me?”
‘But the girl had flung into the house,
let ving him standing outside and gap- |
ing after”her. He could not under |
stand what was the matter with her; |
As he stood there Mrs. Norris came
out with the big watering can. She had
a box of asters, which she was rais-
ing from seed; or, rather, it had been
Ida’s but she had ceased to care for
the tender shoots.
“Say, Mrs. Norris, Ida's all right, |
isn’t she?” asked the boy.
. The old woman looked at him, pure:
ing her lips. “I guess there's nothing
wrong with her,” she answered, and
began sprinkling the plants. There
(was a wise smile on her lips, and her
face was faintly flushed.
“They're too young, Jim,” she said
‘that night to her husband, when the
‘old couple were alone.
Outside, at the Barton end of the
piazza, Frank was waiting. He had
meant to go to the picture show alone.
He had wished that he had some other
girl to take with him. They would
stroll past the double house together,
thar voices slightly raised, andni'rank
laughing. The thought pleased him;
but he only sat sullenly at the end of
the piazza, his chin on his hands, star
ing out into the dusk.
Ten yards away the girl sat by the
window in the living room. She was
alone, too; her father had gone out
upon some errand, and her mother
was making up accounts in the hitch-
en. From the corner of the window
she could just see the Barton end of
the piazza. She had a book in her
hand, but she was not reading.
She had been trying hard not to
ery, and she was exceedingly angry,
because it was not about Frank Bar-
ton—and yet it was, too, in a sort of
way. But what had he done? Noth-
ing. That was just it; he was only a
boy and couldn't understand. But
what was there to understand, except
that she hated him?
She went up to her room at last,
and then she crouched down by the
window and cried in earnest. Pres-
ently a slight squeaking sound inside
the chimney made her tiptoe over to
the stove. It had not been lit since
the warm weather began, a month be-
fore. Something like a mouse was
place where the stovepipe entered.
Frank Barton, at the end of the
piazza, saw the girl’s shadow thrown
on the lawn. He was not going to
look up at her. But he looked up, and
saw that she had pulled the stovepipe '
from its place and was bending over
something.
“She’s found a mouse’s nest,” he
thought, and a wave of disgust surged
over him. He had heard the little
beasts scurrying to and fro at night.
He had thought of pulling out the pipe
and drowning them. How like a girl!
He almost hated Ida then. He
hoped she had not been angry with
him because—because she guessed!
The shame of that would make him
hang his head the rest of his days.
He saw Ida clearly again, a pale young
woman whose twin pigtails had
changed into fluffy, straw-colored hair.
He did not even want to take another
girl to the picture show now.
“Aren’t you getting cold, Frank?
It’s turning quite chilly,” said his
mother, from the window of the liv-
ing room.
“I guess not,” he answered.
“Shall I light the fire in the stove?”
she asked.
He hesitated. “Yes, it might warm
up the house,” he answered.
The boy was in his room and it was
morning. He leaned over the window
sill. Underneath a lilac tree was be-
ginning to blossom and the scent came
up to him. The world was very fair
that soft spring morning. Why was
his heart aching so?
In the next house, but shut off as
by a thousand leagues, was Ida. Some-
times she would lean from her win-
dow and wave a good morning to
him, and he looked for today. 3ut
there was no sign of her.
“She’s still mad at me,” he thought,
and the old sense of resentment be-
gan to stir in him again.
Suddenly he heard a sound of sob-
bing. It came from the next house.
He heard it through the chimney, and
put his mouth to the stovepipe.
“Ida!” he called. “Ida! Ida!”
There was no answer, and he went
aownstairs. He stood beneath the li-
lac tree. The beauty of nature
seemed suddenly to have become ac:
cursed and dreary. He leaned against
the trunk and idly plucked a spray of
lilac. Then he saw a girl coming
along the piazza and went toward her,
a little sheepishly, not yet decided in
what spirit to approach her, But he
saw the tears in her eyes, and his
heart leaped with remorse. And in
her hand she was carrying some-
thing. She held it out indignantly.
It was three little dead birds—chim-
ney swifts, which had been killed by
i the fire he had let his mother kindle.
“Aw, say, Ida! I didn’t know. [
thought they were mice,” he protested.
“You have killed them for wan.
tonness, just like a boy!” she said in-
dignantly.
Her eyes were wet. She stroked the
limp little wings,” and then suddenly
burst into passionate tears. Frank
stood by helplessly. He was sure
now that she wcald never speak to
him again.
“I'm sorry, Ida—honest, I am,” he
muttered.
She raised her eyes to his but there
was not anger in them any more
There was something he had never
seen there. It was not love; it was
more like humility—that which is born
of sudden understanding. Something
of the tragedy of life had gripped
them both, and the seriousness of it
‘when one puts aside childish things.
didn’t mean—honest, I didn’ t—say! ein
“You didn’t know-—did you, Frank!”
she said. And she slipped her arm
| through his, and in that moment the
new life lay before them, though they
only dimly realized what was happen-
ing in their souls. For when the but-
terfly emerges from the cocoon it
‘at once forgets and only rejoices in its
new happiness,
From her window Mrs. Norris
looked down at the ‘pair, strolling un-
der the trees, and called her husband,
There was the shadow of a smile upon
‘her face.
“I don’t know—maybe they're not
too young, Jim,” she said.
(Copyright, 1914, by W. G. Chapman.)
It Depends.
“How long does it take to go through
those woods?” asked the summer
boarder. ;
“That all depends,” replied the
farmer. “I have noticed that when a
man is with his wife it takes about
thirty minutes, and when he is with
his mother-in-law he can make it in
18 minutes. If, however, he 18 with
his flancee it usually takgs about two
hours,”’—Judge.
TRICKS oF SOME TRAVELERS
Depredations of Thoughtiess Tourists
Who Desire Souvenirs Are
Innumerable.
We often hear complaints from tour
ists about inattention and lack ofr
courtesy on the part of those whose
duty it is to cater to the traveling
public. But there is another side to
the story; for instance, the custodians
of places of historic or scenic inter-
est frequently visited by travelers are
obliged to maintain constant watch
against the vandalism of souvenir
hunters, Leslie's states.
What satisfaction can be found in
mutilating and demolishing things of
interest and value to procure a sou-
venir, or. in appropriating from well
known hotels such property as knives,
forks, pepper and salt shakers, nap-
kins, towels and: bath mats? The
manager of a prominent hotel in New
York even reports the disappearance
of pillows from the bedrooms. The
value of this stolen property yearly
amounts to a very large sum.
pearance of such items as the follow-
Ing on menus: “Chicken en casser-
ole in individual souvenir” or “sou-
venir cocktail” in which the appetizer
i8 served in a container bearing the
house name, and which container is
given to the patron. There are nu-
merous little souvenirs, such as silver-
plated trays, teaspoons, etc., for sale
by various hotels to satisfy collectors.
Not all things that disappear from
hotels are taken with deliberate inten-
tention. Major Bowman, manager of
a famous New York hotel, has con-
cluded that linen is not always pur-
loined, but is taken away unconscious-
ly as wrappers for shoes and other ar-
ticles when packing, and men, he
says, unconsciously tuck bar doilies
in their coat pockets after using them,
and these are dropped at the next
‘hotel visited. This wholesale purloin-
ing of hotel articles has led to the for-
mation of a linen exchange. Many of
the leading managers now have stock
taken of all the foreign linen in their
hotels, and at regular intervals this
material is sent to its rightful owners,
who then return linens not belonging
to them.
WEREN'T LOOKING FOR THAT
Work Allotted Fictitious “Red Cross
Workers” Not at All What
They Wanted.
All Paris a short time ago wanted
to visit the French firing line, but the
required passes were extremely dift-
cult to obtain, and there were there-
fore only a few of the many who finally
found their way within hearing of
gun-fire. Even these seemed an abom-
ination to the French general staff.
Spectators were not wanted, and con-
sequently every means was used to.
turn them back. The New York Times '
tells of an amusing incident in which
an overzealous group had their pa-
triotism tried cruelly and found want-
ing:
They had collected ¢ on a hill over-
lcoking Soissons to watch the artillery
duer that was going on across the
river when a staff officer rode up and
asned what they were doing there. All
with one accord said they had come
out to see whether they could be of
any use in Red Cross work.
The staff officer at once sent them
to the surgeon in command of the
nearest field hospital with a message
placing the whole party at his dispos-
ar The surgeon rose to the occa-
sion Spt
“It was most kind of you to come.”
he said;
service
will
torses?”’
Not many of the horses were ever
buried but that corner of the field
Here are picks and spades.
9. battle was successfully cleared of
spectators.
Health Work in the South. :
At Jacksonville, Fla. on Monday,
November 30. occurs the opening ses-
sion of the American Public Health as-
sociation and the whole of that week
will be devoted to sessions of the five
sections of the association and to gen-
eral sessions in which gather mem-
bers of all sections.
Not only will the latest develop
ments in the campaign against the
hookworm disease,
negroes and other distinctly southern
problems be placed before the coun-:
try, but every effort will be made to
stimulate public interest in health
‘matters, throughout the southern
states, in the hope that legislative and
‘other public action may be taken to
place that section on an equal footing
with the states most advanced in the
work.
Red a
The federal commissioner of Indian’
affairs has issued an urgent plea to
superintendents of Indian reserva-
‘tions throughout the country to en-
courage Indian agricultural fairs. and
‘Indian agriculture in general; not only
‘for the benefit of the. Indians ‘them-
selves, but because of the opportunity
offered them by the European war to.
do a service to the nation by bringing -
‘their agricultural pursuits to | the high-
‘est state of efficiency.
Life-Saving Garment for Aviators.
David Williams Ogilvie of Balboa, |
2 bos, ‘Francisco Chronicle.
presents a life-saving garment especial- |
Canal Zone, in a patent, No. 1109140
designed for aerial operators and
which has means for retarding a fall,
means to cushion against
a fall, and float means to act as life
preserver if the operator should drop
in the water. —Scientific ‘American.
It has
| been the underlying cause for the ap-
squeaking and scurrying behind the |
“you can be of the greatest
you kindly. bury. these. dead
diseases among |
. from:
i
MEDICAL SCIENCE AND WAR |
Vast Advances of Recent Years Have
Greatly Reduced the .
Mortality.
While the war in Europe is by far |
the greatest in the history of the world |
and the destruction of life cannot fail |:
to be tremendous, there is satisfaction
in considering that, on account of the
vast advances that have been made |
in medical and surgical science in re-
cent years, the percentage of loss will
be greatly reduced.
In the Franco-Prussian war the sur
geons looked upon the infection of |
wounds as a matter of course. They
regarded the presence of the attendant
pus as a necessity, and as long as the
pus. was what was known as “laud:
able” they were satisfied with the con-
dition of the patient. Other patients
developed another form of pus,
streptococcal, which caused the doc-
tors of those days gravely to shake
their heads and prepare for the death
of the patient. Even the best hos-
pitals were not properly ventilated
and were filled with the foul odors
emanating from infected wounds and
gangrene. All this was considered un-
avoidable. At that time suppuration
and kindred complications in wounded
men were regarded as of spontaneous
origin, although the researches of
Pasteur had already pointed the way
to a general understanding of germs.
When at length purulent infection was
found to be the result of germs disin-
fectants were brought into use. Car-
bolic acid was the agent generally em-
ployed at first for that purpose, and
the attendant s'iccess in treating
surgical injuries and in performing
operations where carbonized dressings
were used and the air was subjected
to a carbonic acid spray, caused the
most profound amazement.—Scientific
American.
SPHERE FOR WOMAN DOCTOR
Writer's Opinion Is That She Has
Properly Taken the Place
That Is Her Right.
ts
They tell us now that we are the
fighting sex. Why have we been so
long? Ardent, beautiful, sweet as a
nut, with nut-brown eyes under lids
like pointed white flames, with her rip-
pling wing of hair in the same sweet,
hot tones, with her tall grace and
grave glance and white, expert, sensi-
tive hands—the scientist's hands
which take account of a hair—why is
she here—this woman—bending over
her tubes and flasks and microscope
instead of in a drawing room, with
bowls of white hyacinths at her el-
bow? Why, within sixty years after
medicine is open to women, are 10,000
practicing in this country alone? Is it
because we are tired of ignorance in
pity?
If there were no other field for
woman doctors, unmarried mothers
would make a place in the world for
them. If there is any psychology of
3ex, or sex antagonism, or sisterhood
among women, or any of the other
things we talk of so gayly in our
search to get at the truth about men
and women, surely it is easier to look
into a woman's eyes than into a man’s
when you hear that you are to un-
dertake motherhood ouside the plan
society has for this service to it.
“l am a woman myself and I know
what you bear”’—the eyes of the wom-
an doctor answer to those others
‘which meet hers in their first startled
comprehension.—The Metropolitan.
Early History of Pittsburgh.
The investment of all there was of
Pittsburgh at the time by the victo-
rious army of General Forbes was
completed November 25, 1758, the day
following the blowing up of Fort Du-
quesne by the French and the flight
of them and their Indian allies. The
small and scattered forces command-
ed by the dying General Forbes, who
had insisted on being brought on for
the celebration of the fall of the fort,
assembled at the “meeting of the wa:
ters,” one strong detachment unde:
General Armstrong having come down
from Kittaning by hasty marching, at
which place they had fought a severe
battle with the Indians, the general
being later honored by having the
county named for him of which Kit-
taning is the county seat.
Conforming to the Censorship.
The censors on the other side seem
to be as particular about informa-
tion that a correspondent sends to his
wife as about the news that he ca-
bles to his paper, evidently having
faith in the old tradition that what-
ever is told to a wife might as well be
screamed aloud in the marke* place.
It is related that Irvin S. Cobb writes
to Mrs. Cobb: “I am here at a town
in Germany. From here I am going.
to another place.
where, because then you wouldn't get
the letter.”—Kansas City Star.
The Dont-Snow Wedding.
John G. Dont, a Santa Rosa mer
chant, and his wife don’t like it be-
cause their son, Prince Albert Dont,
plumber in the same city, went to
San Rafael with Miss Lillian Snow
-of Sebastopol and got married with-
oyt letting them know it. It is not
that they don’t ever object to their
"son taking unto himself a wife, but
they claim that their son don’t know
what he is talking about when he
gave his age as twenty-one.—~San
War Songs.
King George's troops march well to
the Tipperary song, but is it possible
that .the sultan’s forces are hiking
along to the tune “Turkey in the
Straw ?"—Cleveland Plain Dealer.
‘I can’t tell you:
Yeager’s Shoe Store
“FITZEZY”
The
Ladies’ Shoe
that
Cures Corns
Sold only at
Yeager’s Shoe Store,
Bush Arcade Building, BELLEFONTE, PA
58-27
Dry Goods, Etc.
LYON & COMPANY.
Daily Arrival of N ew
Spring Goods
Advance showing of 1915 Dress Fabrics
in Silks, Woolens, Voiles, Organdies, and
Imported and Domestic Ginghams.
Everything new in stripes, checks and
floral effects.
Clearance Sale
of all Winter Stuffs still continued. All
Coats and Suits for - Ladies,
and Children at less than cost.
Sins oe
Misses
Lyon & Co. -... Bellefonte