Bellefonte, Pa., August 27, 1915. ARTA. THE LESSON OF THE WEAVERS. Let us take to our hearts a lesson—no lesson can nobler be— From the ways of the tapestry weavers, on the other side of the sea. Above their heads their pattern hangs; they study it with care; The while their fingers deftly work, their eyes are fastened there, They tell this curious thing beside of the patient, plodding weaver; He works on the wrong side evermore, works for the right side ever. It is only when the weaver stops and the web is | loosed and turned, : : = i indoors, however, and closed the door of sitting on the veranda in December. | of energy to dismissing the matter from i Duke did not look yearningly Youdid not see either Annie or me or her thoughts. : firmly. CE RE i after her; he merely relaxed and waited. Mr. Sharpless.” i An occasional pricking of the ears re- “The dog,” Miles urged, weakly.’ 1 — ——————— de “Of course, I don’t know anything about If Duke had actually changed his al- it. I always say that when any one legiance from Sharpless to the Hender- : speaks of it. People are always talking vealed from time to time a tenser inter- “He was there yesterday, too. I did not, sons, the situation would have better ex- ' about something, and of course his dog | est in some exciting object, but he did | I admit, see Sharpless, yet the presence | plained itself to the neighborhood. But ' is always on your steps—” ‘not rouse to personal examinations or | of the dog there naturally imiplied—" | the fact was that he was a dog of un- i [ { The look on Sara’s face must have un- | methodical habits, a natural rover, a indescribable. *“Well, really—a dog asa | explorations. “His dog!” Annie’s tone was absolutely Miles Haviland passed by slowly, his | seated his reason for the moment or he citizen of the world, so to speak. Yet he : foundation for gossip! What are people eyes searching the windows without re- | never would have concluded as he did— { was not in the habit of joining the chance | coming to?” ward. | the Hendersons was conspicuous. “A give-away!” Words will not de- | had clearly taken a fancy to them—es- | : “Re- | pecially to Sara—and seldom allowed : thing worse. Then he noted the taffy-colored | “The dog, you see, was rather a give- | passer-by, therefore his association with ‘dog at ease upon the porch, its paws | away—" lightly crossed, its dreaming eyes on ! will space, with all the air of a dog completely ; scribe Sara’s manner by this time. He : But Mrs. Ray interrupted. She was one of those who, by the inexorable law of their own beings, must make a bad “Of course folks will talk. at home, and a shade passed over his | ally, Miles, this is the first time I have | many days to elapse without presenting | They don’t mean any harm. All they face. The villainous Sharpless actually | known you to be actually coarse. It on- | himself at the door. Sara, who liked | say is that she is marrying him to reform calling on Sara! He was a neighbor, to : ly shows how long one can know a per- ; him in her heart, became accustomed to ' him. Nothing disrespectful to Miss Sara, be sure—he had called on some neigh- | son and be deceived as to his true na- | his visits and made him welcome. Miles I assure you. But J always say, reform i borhood matter of arbitration or adjust- | ture.” She broke off there, and in truth | Haviland, on the contrary, had not called ! ’em first and marry ’em afterward. Now , ment. Nevertheless, the : cration. ! when Sara came out, hatted and coated That he sees his real handiwork, that his marvel. | bound for “the village,” by which the ous skill is learned. Ah! the sight of its delicate beauty! How it the shopping district. pays him for all it cost! by the frost. . correct dwellers on the outskirts meant | 1 Miles had barely moved out of sight ! despair when she concluded: The dog arose | Miles gave a wild laugh—*“The , with punctilious recognition, and without | : pace adjusted to hers down the path and Then his master brings his golden hire, and , Out the gate. Evidently it was his inten- giveth him praise as well; And how happy the heart of the weaver is no tongue but his own can tell. The years of man are the looms of God, let down from the place of the sun; : tion to accompany her. | Sara paid scant attention to him. She : supposed he would drop off when he i passed his own house, but instead he walked past it as if he had never seen it ; before. He did not have altogether the And thereon we are weaving till the appointed , air of following her; his manner suggest- task is done. Weaving blindly, but weaving surely, each man for himself his fate, We may not see how the right side looks, we can only weave and wait. But looking above for the Pattern, no weaver need have fear; . Only let him look clear into heaven—the perfect Pattern is there. If he keep the face of his master forever and al- ways in sight His weaving is sure to be perfect, his work is sure to be right. And at last when his task is ended, and the web is turned and shown, He shall hear the voice of his Master; it shall say unto him, “Well done,” And the white-wirged angels of heaven, to bear him thence shall come down; And God for his wage shall give him, not coin, but a golden crown. —Selected. “HOW POOR AN INSTRUMENT.” Sara Henderson, opening her front door to consider the temperature, found the door-mat occupied. “That Sharpless dog is here again,” she remarked to her sister, who sat in the living-room crochet- ing. The dog, roused from his day dream, looked up pleasantly. He was a rather large, blond dog with a magnanimous ex- pression, yet Sara’s first impulse was to say, “Go away, sir!” It was not that she disliked dogs or was unfavorably im- pressed by the appearance of her unin- vited guest; her disapproval was entire- ly a matter of the dog’s home associa- tions. : Mr. Nicholas Sharpless, familiarly known as Nick and sometimes Old Nick, had been a most unwelcome addition to the well-bred, conservative neighborhood upon which he had intruded his ribaldry. Nicholas was a complacent black sheep. The mere sight of his jovially apoplectic countenance proclaimed the futility of hopes of regeneration or reformation. Old Nick was almost grossly hospitable. Automobiles were cotstantly disgorging parties of corpulently prosperous guests at his gate. It was rumored that casks whose contents gave forth liquid sounds were deposited at frequent intervals at his modern Colonial door which former- ly had opened to admit the irreproach- able friends of the respectable Bradford- Smiths. And it was the disreputable name of Sharpless that was branded upon the blond dog’s innocent collar. Neverthe- less, Sara considered him relentingly. Sincere, dignified, friendly, he disarmed suspicion. It was difficult to connect him with the sinister Sharpless. The slow wave of the tail indicated a quiet confidence in his welcome. He was not apologetic or conciliatory, as his species often are, yet he obviously did not belong to any of the established families. It would have been difficult to classify him socially. Various but not warring ele- ments had gone into his making. For general convenience he might be describ- ed as a taffy-colored Newfoundland. His vest was white. A touch of roundness about the forehead, the arch of the neck, above the collar, seemed to indicate that his age was not so advanced as his dig- nity and composure might otherwise sug- gest. ’ As Sara looked at him, memories of her dead cocker-spaniel Lucy swept over her and moved her heart to softness. Harsh injunctions to depart died on her lips. Instead she bent and patted the dog’s head, noting the noble name of “Duke” engraved upon his collar—coun- teracting to sone extent the unfavorable effect produced by the surname of his owner—and called to her sister to bring out what was left of the tea-cake. Sara’s sister Annie, a gentle, indefinite- looking spinster with spectacles, came out bearing a plate of tea-cake, a gray sweater in the making thrown over her arm. An absent frown of concentration still lingered upon her smooth brow. She was struggling with the intricacies of a new stitch. Annie set the plate down upon the floor of the piazza. The dog’s eyes brightened and his tail-beat quicken- ed, yet the act seemed partly courtesy. He ate with the self-restraint of a well- cared-for animal. A dog with a pleasing personality, Sara reflected, watching him. Evidently the dog thought the same of Sara, as well he might. Not precisely young, yet com- fortably this side of middle age, with clear skin, good teeth, abundant hair, firmly set mouth, and bright eyes, Sara gave the impression of decided character and perfect health. There was perhaps too definite an air of self-reliance about her; certainly she gave no suggestion of the clinging vine. Also something about her neat dress, her whole sensible, straightforward make-up, indicated dis- regard of her good looks almost to the point of not availing herself of the full advantage of them. It was true that Sara felt no feeble-minded dependence upon men’s society, as excellent Miles Haviland had discovered to his sorrow. Longer than Jacob languished for Rachel had Miles Haviland hopelessly wooed Sara Henderson. When the dog had finished the tea- cake, he did not depart, as Sara had sup- posed he would. Instead he sank lightly upon the mat again. His eye exhibited a sensitive consideration for her move- ments and more than a hint of willing- \ ness to fall in with her plans. Sara went ed rather that he was going her way. From time to time he deflected down by- paths on excursions of his own, but he always returned with a pleasant air of reunion. As they got farther from home he paused once or twice, looked back and seemed to consider, with the air of one consulting a watch, whether his engage- ments would permit him to go on; then, as if deciding that he would risk it for | the whole distance. Sara’s first errand was at the butcher’s. The dog remained delicately outside dur- ing this visit. When her order had been duly recorded, Mr. Hawkins escorted Sara to the door, discoursing: on the weather. His blandly wandering eye took note of her escort. “Ain’t that Sharpless’s dog?” he inquired; and Sara, admitting the damaging fact, murmured that he seemed to be a “very friendly animal.” She went next to Cox’s, the grocer’s. Here Duke entered with her, and was Ricelad by the grocer’s boy by name. r. Cox, however, did not place Duke so quickly. “Got a new pet there, Miss Sara?” he inquired. Mr. Cox had known Sara since childhood. “No, he isn’t mine.” Sara was more frugal of explanation this time, but Mr. Cox made tardy recognition of Duke’s identity. “Oh, I see now; that’s Sharp- less’s dog.” Then he grinned and shook ‘his head. ‘Talk about the joy o’ living. I guess that’s where you get it!” he said. .Saradid not respond to this delicate ob- servation save by a vague smile. But by the time the plumber had identified Duke and had remarked, “I hear Sharpless is going to buy the house and make altera- tions—how is that?” as if she, Sara Hen- derson, could possibly be acquainted with Sharpless’s horrid plans, she began to feel annoyed. This situation of ac- quaintanceship with the pariah Sharp- less, thrust upon her by the dog, was really objectionable. She quickened her steps with the idea of eluding him, but the dog quickened his steps into a trot, baffly glancing at objects he had former- ly found worthy of inspection. Sara started to say, “Back, sir!” but meeting the frank camaraderie of his glance, felt the words die on her lips. Why try to convince Duke that she did not want him? He would not believe her. At the corner by the bank she came suddenly face to face with Miles Havi- land. She scarcely noted the light that came into his face, but to his eager ques- tion, “May I join you?” she replied un- sentimentally, “Of courss. Why not?” And he gladly turned about. He gave a glance at the dog. that Sharpless’s dog?” he asked. “Yes.” Sara was apt to skimp her words with the inferior male, but her “yes” this time was a little shorter than usual. All facts concerning Sara were of mo- ment to Miles. He recorded with the air of one making an observation worthy of note, “I saw him lying on your door- step early this afternoon when I went past. He seemed quite at home.” “Dogs usually are, don’t you think?” was Sara’s reply. “They tend to be so- cialists.” Sara’s apparent willingness to indulge in flights of fancy encouraged Miles to continue. “I had thought they were rather apt to be snobs. Just see how they will bark at a tramp and fawn upon a well-dressed caller.” Sara was fond of dogs, and the turn the conversation had taken for the mo- ment entertained her. “I don’t know,” she responded. “The other night the Browns’ dog by an error of judgment welcomed a burglar into the house.” “I hope he never found it out,” laugh- ed Miles. “Poor old chap! He would have been so mortified and upset.” Then, fatuously exalted by Sara’s un- usual responsiveness, poor Miles fell into error. “This seems a very nice old chap” —he referred to the companionable Duke, now walking close at his side— “but do you really feel it necessary to re- ceive calls from such a disreputable old party as his owner, just because he is a neighbor—" Something then in Sara’s silence or the look on her face warned Miles, but : too late. Sara did not tell him that he | was laboring under a misapprehension. She only said in her most freezing tones: “Don’t you think, Miles, that it is rather a mistake to listen to gossip about peo- ple? Mr. Sharpless may be a very worthy man.” “He may -be—" Miles could go no further than that. Had any one ever pefore attempted any defense of Sharp- less? And that Sara—It was too mon- strous. - “Such a long call, Sara,” he broke out uncontrollably. “Why, it was barely two o'clock when I went home from lunch, and at quarter to four he was still there—" The look Sara bent upon Miles at that point was so terrible as she repeated “Mr. Sharpless!” that Miles, unable to explain or readjust his sentence, could only finish his original construction— “on your door-mat.” The literal picture thus conjured up of Sharpless the rubicund reclining upon Sara’s door-mat failed at the moment to present itself entertainingly either to Sara or Miles, so destructive to the sense of humor is wrath in most natures. There was a dreadful pause; tnen Sara remarked in arctic tones: “You must be suffering from some singular form of optical delusion. We are not in the habit “Isnit | the pleasure of Sara’s company, continued No rarer, daintier work than his was ever done Waiting for her invitation walked at a and Sera accepted it with ‘heart-breaking serenity. ‘ “he wants company. Dogs are depend- It is | doubtful if he plumbed further depths of appreciate it if you would allow me to | walk the rest of the way alone. 1 really ! prefer—" | of Sharpless’s dog,” he concluded for her, | “Precisely! Of Sharpless's dog.” Miles, not being of a haughty, high- handed type, lingered a moment misera- bly even after this “Sara, do you real- ize the wretched creature this man is, this man that you in your innocence are willing to make a friend of—" But Sara’s answer was to turn upon ! him a blank face. “Will you leave me, please, to go home alone?” Miles went, more miserable than he had been yet. Sara walked on, raging in spirit. That Miles should dare to speak to her like that! Miles to dare accuse her, to think for one moment that she would allow that odious creature to call! She frowned at the innocent cause can- tering cheerfully by her side. Wrapped in dark thoughts, she passed, without recognition, a man coming from the op- posite direction. He greeted her famil- iarly by name, and she glanced up to see Reginald Kip, a light-minded bachelor of the community, looking from Duke to her with an amused smile. “Keeping the commandments, I see—so intent on ’em you cut your friends in the street. What is it about loving your neighbor's dog—or is it ox?” Sara responded without responsive display of jocosity. “He seems to have attached himself to me.” Reginald, being a professional wit, con- tinued in his usual vein: “So long as his master doesn’t follow suit. Wouldn't want it to be a case af love me, love my dog. Who could love Old Nick? 1 couldn’t. Could you?” It was "all very easy to snub poor Miles, but Reginald was not snubable. Sara, realizing it, was at a disadvantage. Reginald bent a disrespectful considera- tion upon Duke, who, always the gentle- man, had paused politely to meet the so- cial exigency. “What sort of a beast would you call him, anyway?” “I suppose he is a kind of Newfound- land,” Sara replied, with bored literal- ness. “In any case,” Reggie went on, “his color is unique. Cafe av lait would you call it, or champagne?” Then he explod- ed loudly at his unexpected hit. “Cham- pagne. That's it. I saw a case going in there yesterday.” a The dog raised his eyes and gazed: calmly up into Reggie's face. A more sensitive soul might have been abashed. Even Reggie showed some consciousness of rebuke. “Never mind, old chap. I don’t believe he gave you any. You're as sober-minded a dog as I ever saw.” Duke escorted Sara to her gate, then went off on some tack of his own without lingering for sentimental farewells. In the evening, however, as Sara went to the window to arrange a refractory blind she discovered him dozing on the mat. She broke out then a little irritably, “I should like to know why that dog doesn’t stay at home?” Annie glanced up in some surprise at her tone, for Sara was usually amiable except when dealing with Miles Havi- land. “I suppose,” Annie suggested, ent creatures.” Sara refused to be moved by any pic- ture of Duke’s lonely hearthstone. “I am going to drive him away so that he will stay, this time,” she announced, al- most vindictively, and gentle Annie looked disturbed. Then Sara, determinedly opening the door to put her threat into practice, came face to face with a man who proved to be none other than the de- praved Sharpless himself. This gentleman, evidently quite un- aware of his lack of social and moral qualifications, reverentially raised his hat, disclosing in the light that streamed from the hall a shining bald spot and a cheerful, rubicund countenance. His manner of apology was elaborate. “So sorry to disturb you, Miss Hen- derson—only came for my dog. Hope he hasn’t annoyed you.” Mr. Sharpless’s question was almost emo- tional. Sara found herself mechanically responding, “Oh no, not at all.” Sharpless slipped his hand under the dog’s collar, Duke looked up, regarding his master with the same dignified con- fidence with which he met all the world. “Funny old beast, eh?” Sharpless gave the dog a clumsy pat. ‘‘A poor thing, but mine own, eh? That's the idea. Came to me, you know. Wouldn't take no for an answer—” Sharpless gave a fat laugh that certainly gave an impres- sion of amiability. “Funny how dogs take fancies like that.” Sara reflected that Duke’s taste was evidently poorer than one would have imagined. Certainly the value of his tribute to her was reduced to a minimum by Sharpless’s statement. Sharpless, finding his conversational efforts unencouraged, took his departure with nods and smiles. Evidently he was not easily chilled. That night as Sara stood before her mirror, her dark hair in a long, neat braid, her hand raised to turn out the light, she had a thought which she in- stantly dismissed as too trifling to be dwelt upon. Nevertheless, she had the thought. Miles Haviland, after years of mawkish, unquestioning devotion, had dared to misunderstand and even to criticize her, He had believed that she, Sara Henderson, would receive calls from the outcast Sharpless. He had be- lieved this preposterous, idiotic thing because a flighty-headed, wanderlusting dog with the courage of his impulses had chosen to camp upon her door-mat and escort her to market. She had never thought much of Miles’s intelligence, but really—z7eally she had thought better of it than that. She turned out the gas with a vicious snap and expended what might have seemed an excessive amount The tone of | gold him except in the distance since the day : thought of | there was nothing she could have added! for some time. Sara had not even seen a man like Nick Sharpless—” but he Sharpless within Sara’s doors was dese- | to make Miles more wretched. “Mrs. Ray!” No one would have be- she met him in Duke’s company. Three lieved Annie capable of speaking like part was noteworthy, for it was a custom of many year’s standing that he should call Sunday afternoon and remain to tea. : The first Sunday after their unhappy difference that Miles. did not appear, Sara laughed. She was in her own bed- room at the time, and the laugh resound- ed a little hollowly in the room. “Miles didn’t come,” Annie had re- “lI would | weeks of total social abstinence on Miles’s that. “Really, this is foo shocking. I cannot allow you to repeat any more of this—this ignoble gossip.” And, drawing up her skirts, Annie literally swept from. . the room. : When this conversation was repeated i to Sara a few hours later she was angrier “than she had ever been in her life. “It | is too stupid to listen to,” she said, but her mouth was set and her eyes were ; dark and bright. That, then, was the “Mrs. Ray blushed and stammered. | tilly County Correspondence Items of Interest Dished Up for the Delec- tation of “Watchman” Readers by a Corps of Gifted Correspondents. REBERSBURG. The Duck machine is kept busy. Potato raising; Don’t sell them for a song. Auman’s thresher is eating up wheat and oats. Miss Alberta Stover -does not forget her violin. Prof. Brungart and family still tarry with mother Wolf. Confer and Bierly will have a sale of fine stock in West Rebersburg on Sat- urday. All the would-be Judges should be at the valley Sunday school picnic on the 27th inst. Geraldine Hackenberg spent a pleas- ant week with the Misses Hazel, at : Boalsburg. i Reports from Booneville indicate that marked, in surprise, evidently thinking meaning of ribald Reggie Kip’s pleasantry. : Some of our girls won notoriety at the her sister could coffer some explanation, but Sara only replied in a bored tone, “No he didn’t.” When, however, the next Sunday passed ignored, Annie frankly wondered. “What can have hap- | her thoughts went off into chaotic pened to Miles? Do you suppose he is | il?” Sara only replied frivolously—really almost heartlessly, Annie thought: “Oh, I guess he’s still in the land of the living, I saw him on the street yesterday.” Annie gave her sister a steady stare over her glasses. ting tired of being snubbed.” Sara made no sound of scorn. he has more spirit than we gave him credit for, hasn’t he!” she responded, . with glittering coldness. Annie’s gaze returned to the columns of her three-cent evening paper of the night before. “I have never supposed faithfulness and loyalty to be proof of “I dare say he’s get- “Then : lack of spirit,” she remarked, with dig- . nity. So Sara found herself rebuked again, but for a wonder she did not re- tort. The next day, out walking with Duke, who had ‘rushed out from his own grounds to join her, Sara met Reggie Kip. He did not stop this time, contented him- self with slyly shaking a finger at her in passing. “What did I say about ‘Love me love my dog,’ ch-ah?” And Sara, care- lessly smiling, thought how pointless Reggie’s jokes were. A little farther along, as she was turning into her own gate, she met Miles face to face. He lifted his hat gravely and would have passed on. Strange to say, Sara conde- scended to address him; then, of course, he gladly responded, asking her how she had been, as if she had passed through untold dangers or was recovering from a serious illness. “Very well,” Sara responded, lightly, “in spite of your indifference to our wel- fare.” “Oh, Sara—” Miles looked at her with his too-revealing eyes. “I thought you wouldn't care to see me after what passed between us. You seemed terribly | k "me right away.” offended.” : “What was it? Really I don’t remem- ber,” Sara began, carelessly. Miles glanc- ed at the light-brown, frisking object en- circling him with his attentions. That was the reason Miles had such a dreadful look on his face. People were actually saying this preposterous—this farcical, outrageous thing! At that point wrath. That evening Annie, looking very grave | over her crocheting, alluded again to the subject. “I am afraid that dreadful story has quite a wide circulation, from what Mrs. Ray said. It seems almost as if something out to be done about it. Yet I don’t know just what we can do. Silence always seems the most dignified—" “Yes,” Sara replied at that point, ‘“cer- tainly somethng ought to be done about it.” Her tone was peculiar. Annie con- sidered her unhappily. “It seems too ridiculous that a—a dog should have brought this odious thing upon us. And so innocently,” she might have added. For any one who had ever | known Duke must have acquitted him of traductory motives. face, but she said nothing further. After a moment she rose, threw a wrap ‘around her, and walked out into the frosty dark- ness. So absorbed in her unwelcome thoughts was she that she walked into a man entering the gate without hearing or seeing his approach. She started back abruptly with an instant fear that it might be the loathly Sharpless. It was a relief—yes, an extraordinary and over- whelming relief—to find that it was Miles Haviland. He did not retain Sara in his arms, being scarcely bold enough for so decisive a stroke, but he retained a gentle hold on her shoulders that he might the better scan her face in the dim light. . “Sara,” he said, “I can’t stand this any longer. I must speak again, I don’t care how angry you are at me.” And despair made his tones authoritative. “Every one is talking about it. They say you are actually engaged to that—" But Sara did not give him a chance to finish. “I can’t stand it any longer, either, Miles,” she said, breathlessly, “not a minute. It took him a moment after that to get his breath. The trees, the houses even, looked strangely unsteady. seemed to like Miles despite the coldness | be that that villain is actually persecuting with which that ordinarily kind gentle- | you with his attentions?” man was regarding him. It was unfortunate that the dog chanced to be with her again, Sara re- flected, when the worst thing that im- agination could have conjured up hap- pened. She saw the transformation on Miles’s face—it was almost terrible; and, turning about to see what had occasion- ed it, met the jovial, deprecating smile of Starpless, carelessly, familiarly, or so it seemed, crossing what in summer was her lawn. “Forgive the Tired Business Man” —so Sharpless gracefully phrased it—*for cutting across your grass. Late to trolley —important engagement. Time and trol- leys wait for no man. Haviland under- stands—” Sharpless would have includ- ed Haviland but Haviland had left abruptly, without farewell or explana- tion. He had performed the act popular- ly known as turning on his heel and leaving. The sight of Sharpless, at ease and smiling, coming across Sara’s lawn, was more than he could bear. It was annoying, really, Sara reflected, to be put in such a position. Her first impulse was to blame Duke, and she did speak to him harshly; but meeting his earnest, affectionate, light-brown eyes, compunctions smote her. Whatever havoc he was to work in her life, she must acquit him of base design. The master might be a villain whose very presence in the neighborhood was con- tamination, but the dog had a heart of A few days after that, Annie went to consult her neighbor, Mrs. Ray, concern- ing a complication that had arisen in the construction of the gray sweater. Mrs. Ray was a simple, tactless soul, long valued by the Hendersons as a “good neighbor.” An adept with the cro- chet-needle,she soon had Annie's difficul- ties straight. Then she passed on to the interchange of harmless gossip, finally winding up with, “I hear interesting re- ports about your sister.” Her tone was so roguish it left no doubt as to the ten- der nature of the news in question. Annie had risen to take her departure; she smiled vaguely. “Yes, but that’s rather an old story, isn’t it?” But Mrs. Ray would not be turned aside so lightly. “We hear that an interesting announcement is to be ex- pected any day,” she contiuued. Annie laughed. “I'm sure I wish Sara would make up her mind. I am devoted to Miles Haviland.” Mrs. Ray fixed her pale eyes upon Annie with a glance almost piercing. “Miles Haviland? Oh, that isn’t what I meant. Miles is what the boys call a ‘back number,’ isn’t he? I hear they have quarreled. No! I was referring to her new beau.” And Mrs. Ray unmistakably nodded in the direction of Sharpless’s house. Annie, however, presented a face of amiable blandness. “Mr. Sharpless—" Mrs. Ray began, then fairly driven to be literal (so she felt), when she would fain have continued playful if Annie only would have understood her innuendoes— “I hear—that is, they are saying—Mr. Sharpless—” Then she faltered before the unwonted coldness in Annie's eyes. “Mr.—Sharpless” The gentleman in question would certainly not have been flattered at Annie’s tone. “Certainly the village people have very little to talk about if they can make up stupid, vulgar stories like that.” | i Miles looked murderous. “No, no, of course not.” was hysterical. “It’s just the foolish, un- endurable, dreadful stories.” “Which you mind so much that you are willing to marry me.”” Miles’s smile was strange, and made up of various ele- ments. “So much that I am willing to do any- thing.” Sara’s words certainly had a ruthless sound. Miles’s smile deepened. “I guess that’s about the size of it,” he said, quietly. “Poor Sara! You shouldn’t have let him come in the first place.” Sara showed signs again of impending hysteria. “I didn’t—he didn’t. He has never been inside the house, not once. It was his dog, who would lie on the mat. The beast”—so Sara reversed the labels of dog and man—*“has never once been in the house.” As if in answer to a cue there came a rushing sound in the hedge, and Duke joined them with his air of glad reunion. “Bless the dog, bless him; he has worked the miracle!” By this time Miles had unreluctant Sara in his arms. Aud Sara, broken, transformed, en- nobled, exclaimed softly, “Dear, foolish old Miles, I am not half good enough—" Duke, finding his attentions unnoticed, relapsed into his old place on the mat, where he remained, a kind, oblivious, dignified chaperon. He did not, like some human go-betweens we know of, boast that he had made the match. He was only a dog, humble and sympathetic. So he remained, forgiving of their neglect, alert for their recognition when it should come. And no .doubt, had he realized that very soon Miles and Sara would for- get his part in the matter and come to believe that they had found happiness alone and unaided, he would not have re- sented their ingratitude any more than he would have blamed Sharpless for his lapses. The dog is no moralist. He takes human nature as he finds it, content if he is allowed to be an unobstrusive sharer of its joys and sorrows.—By Katharine Metcalf Roof, in the Harper’s Monthly Magazine. ——They are all good enough, but the WATCHMAN is always the best. Anti-Saloon Speeches. Rev. J. Mitchell Bennetts, of Philadel- phia, superintendent of organization Penna. Anti-Saloon League, an unusually forceful and convincing as well as enter- taining public speaker, has been in Cen- tre county this week delivering open- air and in-door temperance speeches in sixteen different places in the county as follows: These towns please take note: Centre Hall—Friday evening, August 27th. Spring Mills—Saturday. 2:30 p. m., August 28th. Rebersburg—Saturday evening, August 28th Millheim—Sunday a. m., U. Evangelical church, August 29th. Coburn—Sunday afternoon, August 29th. Woodward—Sunday evening, August 29th. Lemont—Monday afternoon, 4 o'clock, at sta- tion, August 30th. State College—Monday evening, August 30th. Milesburg—Tuesday afternoon, August 31st. Bellefonte—Tuesday evening, August 31st. —Put your ad. in the WATCHMAN. There was a white, set look on Sara’s I wish you would marry | “You ; Duke | mean it, Sara? But why? What—Can it | Sara’s tone ! | camp on Sunday. W. J. Hackenberg gave the oil-drillers ia trip to camp and had tea with them, i on Sunday evening. ! A stag party took in Old Home week at Lock Haven Tuesday. Wonder what : their best girls will say? i The picnic of the valley Sunday schools , at Smull’s grove, on Friday the 27th, | promises to be well attended. Mrs. Jude Bierly, relict of Joseph Bier- ly, had a cataract removed from her right ‘eye at Williamsport last week. Mrs. Emma Neece, who is a trained | nurse at Cayuga, N. Y., is visiting her parents and sisters for a month. Mrs. Stella Wetzel and family, of : Stoyestown, are visiting Mrs. Wetzel’s | folks, Mr. and Mrs. Elmer Miller. Early plowing is O. K., but don’t sow wheat until the middle of September, ‘unless you want to raise Hessians. Wilson Cole, the expert carriage builder, returned on Saturday from Alexandria and will spend a few weeks at home. A bevy of young ladies walked out to the oil derrick one moonlight night re- cently, accompanied by a chaperone. John Winters, an employee of the U. S. post office at Philadelphia, is visiting his father, Perry Winters, at Smullton. Rev. Solly and his son went to Phil- \ adelphia on Saturday. Mrs. Solly and Jaughters will remain until September rst. The buck-horns which fell to Hack- : enberg last fall, have been mounted by i him and made a pretty ornament. Oh for more buck-horns! Edwin IL Ziegler and wife are guests of Mrs. Ziegler’'s mother, Mrs. Jas. K. Moyer. Mr. Ziegler is head of the Fores- try school at Mt. Alto. : Willis R. Bierly has the concessions of i ice cream, confections, etc., at the picnic ron Friday. He contemplates holding a ; festival in the evening. The road scraper and engine used by Miles township took its departure behind the mountain last week. Almost as balky as a sport vehicle. Harry Hubler went to Pittsburgh on { Monday to take charge of his position with the Westinghouse Co. Ethel and Frances will join him later. The clans Bierly here were well repre- sented at the re-union at Hecla park on Friday. Hilda, the young musician, fur- nished the music for the occasion. The rhodomontade of the Millheim sports in the last issue of the WATCHMAN is not nearly as rotten as their reported conduct on porches and on the pike. Wise was auctioneer at the Miller sale and realized good prices. The doctor’s horse brought $188. Dan Royer bought a half acre lot abutting on Union cemetery for $176. Chas. Smull, with his touring car, took Willis F. Bierly, his daugher Hilda, the pianist, and others over to the Bierly re- union at Hecla park on Friday. They had a time to be remembered. The timber land of the late Harvey Miller, about 22 acres, lying on the flat back of the North mountain, was sold to A. N. Corman for $149. Noah knows how to buy a good thing in realty. Don’t you think, my dears, it would have been fair to make them sign their names to their “pompadourity,” so read- ers could see who the dying “Millheim sports” acknowledge themselves to be? Miss Ruth Douty entertained two girl friends from Lock Haven over Sunday, Miss Margaret Sellers and Miss Rose Douty, daughter of Thomas Douty, both of whom were pleased with their visit ere. There was sold at the Dr. Harry Miller sale an old-fashion canteen, which the doctor himself made out of a mulberry tree that grew on the lot and at one time bore large, delicious berries for the delec- tation of youth of a generation ago. Mrs. Florence Pearson, of South Akron, Ohio, is visiting Mrs. Anna Frank, who raised her. She was called east by a message that her sister, Mrs. Gertrude Horlacher, of Tylersville, was dead, and she arrived a few hours after the burial. Wallace G. Miller, son of the late Dr. Miller came up from Philadelphia to attend the sale of his father’s effects. He is a trusted employee of the Horn & Hardart Automat Co., Phila., which has many feeding places in all the large cities. Mrs. Sallie Hilbish (nee Harter) and an auto party from Freeburg, Snyder county, called on Mrs. Ida Harter and Mr. and Mrs. Harry Hubler at the week- end. Sallie was well-beloved by all, as the youngest daughter of the late Eman- uel Harter. The old altar which used to grace the centre of the old Lutheran and Reformed church, and before which many thous- ands worshipped God, was bought at the Henry Miller sale by Teddy Royer, for Sam Bierly, to be used to store butter in. Price 50 cents! The beautiful panels painted by artist Work in the Lutheran church, as well as his fresco work, are the objects of ad- miration by all who have seen them. The one in the Sunday school room is the guardian angel and the one in the LContinued on page 3, Col. 1.]
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers