. diminutive Dewar atc Bellefonte, Pa., September 7, 1917. THE MORALS OF PETER. (Continued from page Z, Col. 3.) “Did he, now?” “Yes. So I got on top of the fence, and he backed round so I could get a hold—" “Most obliging. Did he tell you that he was going to run?” smiled Archer. “No, that was Snort’s fault. He didn’t understand about it, so he chas- ed us, an’ barked, an’ Mazeppa didn’t like that.” «I see. Were you frightened?” “Y-es, but I liked it.” Archer drew him into the curve of his arm. “I don’t want you to do that again, boy. James will teach you to ride, and we will get you a saddle. You must not, get on the horses, bareback, like that. It is too dangerous. Promise me you won't do that again.” “I'll try not to,” said Peter. A week later, John Archer rode forth, accompanied by his wife and his son astride a “regular horse.” He took to riding naturally. He seemed to know by instinct how to handle horses. He talked to them, and they understood him, and loved him. James was so pleased with his prog- ress as a horseman, that he began to teach him how to drive, also. Peter learned to handle the reins and carry his whip like a professional horse- show performer. For one year, life was a happy hunting ground for Persr, and then Trouble lifted its head. One day a grocery boy left his horse and wagon standing in front of the Archer piace while he went in to deliver his goods. Peter appropriated th: wagon and drove away. Two hours later the vil- lage policeman found him jogging along a country road, in perfect un- concern of the excitement he was causing. That night for the first time, John Archer was stern. “Why did you do it, Peter?” “The horse whispered to me that he’d like to go for a walk in the coun- try, so I took him.” “No more of this nonsense about the horse whispering to you.” “But horses do talk to me, Father.” “This must not happen again, Peter. I'm sure you didn’t think about it this way, but taking the boy’s horse and wagon was stealing.” “I was goin’ to bring it back.” “I am going to whip you, Peter, as a reminder that you must never do anything like that again.” “All right, Father,” said the sinner, and nearly robbed Archer of his deter- mination. He forced himself to whip him. Pe- ter howled, and John was sick at heart, and hated himself. A few days later Peter acquired a new dog. When asked about it, he said that the dog followed him home. Subsequent investigation discovered that Peter had onened the dog house on a neighboring place to play with the dog, and had omittad to shut him in again. The taint in Peter’s blood began to work. Long, serious talks with his weeping mother, stern, illuminating conversations with his father, punish- ment, corporal or otherwise, nothing could plant in the mind of Peter the understanding of mine and thine. He told the truth about his escapades, after they were over, and took his medicine stoically, but horses and dogs he continued to believe were pub- lic property. “T don’t know what #0 make of it,” groaned Archer to his wife; “he must come of a long line of horse thieves.” | “Qh, but John, in eve»7 other way he is so lovable, so obedient—" “Yes, but this is like the rotten speck that spoils the whole fruit. This is such a basic thing.” “I just can’t bear it to have him this way—" “There must be some way to get at him that we have not theught of. He seems to understand when I talk to him, and then he breaks out worse than ever.” “Do you believe that it would do any good for me to take him to Judge Horton, and have him threaten to send him away ?” Archer considered that. “Well, let’s try it. Let’s try every- thing before we give hin up.” “Qh, John, that would kill me!” “Me, too,” he muttered. It was just a year and six months from Peter's first appezrance in the Juvenile Court that he made his sec- ond santrance there. Judge Horton greeted them cordially, and after a few minutes of private conference with Mrs. Archer he heard publicly the sad list of Peter’s misdemeanors. “Peter, do you remember me?” he inquired. t Peter’s serious gaze appraised him. “Yes. Your name is Mister Yer- honor.” The judge and Mrs. Archer repress- ed a cmile. “Do you remember how the police- man brought you in here, and how I gave you to Mrs. Archer, so you would have a nice home?” Peter nodded, large-eyed. “You like your home?” “Sure.” “You love your mother?” “Yes, an’ my father, an’ Snort, an’ James an’ Mary an’ Mazeppa—" “Well, why do you make your fath- er and mother so unhappy then?” “I don’t know.” “Peter, I want you to tell me the whole truth now. What makes you take horses that do not belong to you, and dogs? Haven’t vou any dogs and horse: of your own?” “Yes, I have Snort, he’s my dog. An’ Father John has horses, an’ Moth- er has one, an’ I have one.” “Then why do you do it?” “They talk to me.” “Who talks to you?” “Horses an’ dogs.” “What do they say to you?” “They say, ‘Come an ’play, come on an’ run away.’ ”’ He said it as seriously as any de- plorable fact could be stated. “And so you forget all about your father and mother, who love you and Peter, do so much for you, and you deliber- ately go off with other people’s horses and dogs. What is your dog’s name, Peter 7” “Snort.” “Suppose Snort jumped up and bit vou in the face, after ill your kind- mess to him. Wouldn't you feel pret- ty bad?” “Yes, but—" “That’s the way mother feel.” 5 Peter turned astonished eyes upon you make your er. “But I don’t bite her,” he said. “You do worse than that, you hurt her heart,” said the judge. Peter's lip quivered ac that. “Muddy,” he said, pityingly, taking her hand, “do 17” She nodded, wet-eyed. “Peter, sometimes I have to punish boys who take things that don’t be- long to them. That is the only way I can help them.” “Father has to whip me,” he admit- ted. “But it doesn’t hurt much.” “Why do you ery so loud, then,” asked Mrs. Archer. “Be-ause John expects me to,” was the surprising reply. “Why, Peter!” exclaimed kis moth- er. The judge spoke to hide a smile. “I don’t whip, Peter, but I do some- thing to hurt your heart.” Peter took that in slowly. “My heart is inside of me,” he said. “But when it aches, Peter, you will think it is all of you, outside and in- side. What do you love the most in the world ?” He answered that without hesita- tion, “Snort—an’ Mother an’ Daddy an’ Mazeppa—" “That is all I want to know. Good- by, Peter. I shall be sorry for you, all the time I am hurting your heart.” III Peter’s behavior was exemplary for two days after his visit to Judge Hor- ton. He walked in the ways of right- eousness with a dutiful spirit. He was extremely attentive and devoted to his mother. He asked her repeat- edly: “Now do I hurt your heart?” “No, Peter, when you are good like this my heart is so happy it sings.” Peter applied his head to her chest. “I don’t hear it singing.” _“We all hear different things, dear. Now, you can’t hear my heart sing, and I can’t hear dogs and horses talk- ing, as you do.” “If I never listen to any dogs or horses talk any more, could I hear your heart sing then?” “] don’t know, you blessed Peter- kins. You might try it.” “Mr. Yerhonor said I would feel my heart all over,” he remarked, pinch- ing his legs investigatingly, “but I don’t.” It was the next day that Peter and Snort played ball in the virtuous se- clusion of their own yard, trying to kep out of temptation’s way. All at once a strange man wardered in at the gate, and stood to watch the game. “Nice dog you got there,” remark- ed the stranger. “Yes, he's the best dog in this town,” boasted Peter. “He can lick all the dogs round here, twict his size, an’ he can do tricks, can't you Snort?” “What’s his name?” “Snort.” “hat’s a funny name for a dog.” “No, it isn’t,” replied Peter stoutly. “What’ll you take for him? I'd like to buy him.” Peter dropped the hall in sheer amazement. “Why, I wouldn’t sell Snort if you gimme the whole world.” ; The man picked up the ball, and held it high. Snort ran and jumped on him, trying to catch it, whereupon the man grabbed hir, called to Peter, “I want this dog,” and ran away as fast as he could. Peter ran after him, shouting and calling, but the man got into an electric car and disappeared. Peter panted after it until his breath was all gone and his heart was stran- gling him. He tripped und fell. He did not get up for several moments. He turned back home with great dry sobs shaking him from head to foot. He rushed up-stairs and into his mother’s room, white and trembling. “He’s gone,” he gasped. “Darling!” she cried, startled at the look on his face. “What is it?” “He’s gone. A man took Snort.” “Took him?” “He ran with him.” “Oh, he was only teasing you. He'll come back.” “No. He took him in a ’lectric car.” He threw himself down on the floor and the tears came. He could not stop, nor could she comfcrt him. Fi- nally, in real alarm at the condition of hysteria he worked himself into, she telephoned his father and asked him tc come home at once. She held the child in her arms until he came. They went over the story again, and John Archer said gravely: “It’s dreadful; but I suppose Snort whispered to that man, and he just had to take him off, the way you do, Peter.” Peter’s swollen eyes searched his face for help. “But Snort is my dog,” he said. “Yes, that is what people say when vou take their dogs and their horses.” “But I love Snort—"’ The seed was planted, and it grew in the rich and fertile scil of Peter’s active mind. He slept fitfully that night, in his mother’s arms, waking to cry for his dog, talking feverishly about the man who took him. All that day he watched, and all the next. His alert little figure standing at the gate, hour after hour, watching, hoping, nearly broke his mother’s heart But John Archer, who actually ignored his business and stayed at home to help out with this crisis, cau- tioned her over and over, “It’s tough, honey, but he’s got to fight this out alone.” “But it’s making him sick, Joh=. He doesn’t eat, and he talks in his sleep.” “My dear, parents have to think of souls as well as bodies. The boy is thinking this thing through.” The third day came, and no news of the dog. In the late afternoon, as the Archers sat in anxious council, Peter came to them. “Muddy, I want te go see Mr. Yer- honor.” “Why, dear?” “] want him to make that man’ | heart hurt all over him.” “What man, dear?” “The man that took Snort.” Mrs. Archer lifted a relieved face to her husband, who nodded. “All right, Peterkin, we’ll go see | Judge Horton tomorrow.” | It was a pale, sad Peter who walked | into the court room next morning. | Mrs. Archer whispered a long time to | the judge, and there was something in | the smile he turned on the boy that | made the child go to hira and lay a | hand upon his knee. “A man took Snort,” he said sim- ply, as one who lays bare the heart of | tragedy. | The judge’s hand covered the boy’s. | “I’m sorry, Peter. What can I do?” “Won't you make his heart hurt so he’ll bring him back?” “Probably Snort whispered to Lim to run away.” Out of his three days’ agony, Peter said: “Maybe he did; but I don’t see how he could.” “Do you think it was fair for the man to take your dog?” “No!”’—passionately. “Was it fair for you to take other people’s horses and dogs?” “No, —sadly. “You understand that now, do you, Peter?” “Yes.” “You're never going to forget it?” “No.” With a half smothered sob the tow head went down on Judge Hortons hand. “All right, Jim, let him in,” said the judge to an attendant who stood by. He hurried out, came back in a min- ute, slipped off a leash, and muttered, “Find Peter!” There was a bark, a cry, a streak of bounding yellow dog, a frantic, ecstat- ic shout of “Snort! Oh, Snort!” fol- lowed by an indistinguishable mass of boy and dog on the coiif-room floor, where Snort lapped up his master’s tears, in the overflow of his affection. Judge Horton and Mrs. Archer and everybody in the room looked on with misted eyes. “Peter,” said the judge finally, “come here a moment. I want to pat Snort and I want to speak to you.” Peter struggled to his feet, carrying the long-legged dog clasped close. His face was one wet, teary smile. “Peter, what will you do the next time a dog or a horse whispers to you, ‘Come on and play, Peter, let’s run away?” Peter considered that a full mo- ment, then he looked up at his moth- er’s tear-stained, anxious face. “1 won't listen, Mr. Yerhonor, be- cause if I don’t listen, maybe I can hear my mother’s heart singing.” “This case is dismissed,” said Judge Horton, with his understending smile. —By Marjorie Banton Cooke, in “The American Magazine.” Lawyer’s Unique Error. The lovely lady consulted the pop- ular attorney in regard to getting a divorce. She was particularly inter- ested in knowing how much it would cost. After looking over the case the lawyer said: “This is comparatively easy. I can get you a divorce without any publicity whatever for 2500.” She looked at him haughtily. “1 have plenty of money,” she said. “How much will it cost with plenty of pub- licity and everything?” He saw that she was a person who wanted things done right, so he hastily revised his figures.—The Argonaut. Due to the scarcity of broom- corn, State Senator J. R. Domengeaux of Louisiana, nas experimented sue- cessfully with palmetto leaves as a satisfactory substitute. Experiments will also be made with palmetto roots in the making of puip and paper. The supply of palmetto is inexhaustable. To Send Unfit to Training Camps. The large proportion of physical re- jections in the draft examinations has | ied the Boston Chamber of Commerce, says the Boston Journal, to considera- | tion of a movement for Government action to reclaim for military service the physically unfit among the youth of the Nation. Estimates that one-third of the men who registered June 5 will be unable to meet the physical requirements are being borne out with each new day of the examinations. This means that 3,000,000 or more of the almost 10,- 000,000 men between 21 and 31, which the Government reckons as its chief man power, cannot be called upon in their present condition t) bear arms. The situation is regarded by the Chamber of Commerce publication as a severe indictment of the mode of life indulged in by the young men ap- proaching and following the age of 21. Of the young men being rejected the larger portion, draft physicians find, are between 21 and 25. The movement for reclamation of the unfit had its inception in reports of the large numbers of men being turned down at army and navy re- cruiting offices since the nation began to marshal its fighting strength on its entrance into the war. Now the Bos- ton Chamber of Commerce, inspired to organized effort by the disappointing results of the draft tests, has just ap- pointed a special committee to foster the movement. It has been estimated that 90 per cent. of these men who fail to come up to the requirements can be put in- to proper physical condition for mili- tary service within three to six months. The means suggested is to put the rejected men into special training camps, where they will be given medical treatment as well as military drill. This is the plan of Dr. John H. Quayle, of Cleveland. Bad teeth, broken arches and other disqualifying conditions due principal- ly to carelessness constitute a large share of the reasons for rejections. Exemption board physicians feel that some of these defects can be easily remedied, but the regulations say that the men shall be turned down. The rejections are not to be final in all cases. Free dental treatment is furnishe¢ for men rejecied for the regular arms of the service, and it is felt that the drafted men rejected should be compelled to uadergo treat- ment for defects that can be rectified. Such a provision would place in the ranks the men who rightfully belong there under the fair edict of the draft lottery, rather than bring forward other men to fill their places. Another large class of rejections is due to physical waste. Examiners are finding large numbers of young men whose systems are proken = down through dissipation. This condition is not so pronounced among the men past 25, physicians say. These are mostly the men who have married and settled down. Few are available for service because they have dependents, but the improvement in physical con- dition shown in older men is held to be a strong argument for the plan to organize reclamation camps. Change Name to Pershing. Richmend, Ind.—Permission to change the name of East German- town, Ind., to Pershing, has just been received by Frank Gipe, the postmas- ter, from the Postoffice Department. Residents of the village, ten miles east of here, requested the change on the ground that odium was attached to the name, implying its citizens were Germans. The place was settled more than 100 years ago by Pennsyl- vania Dutch. It’s citizens believe it is the first town to honor tke command- er of the American forces in France by changing its name. ——Subscribe for the “Watchman.” CASTORIA. CASTORIA. ye POE Reha ee LR Bi ‘Net Contents 15 Fluid Drach % ALCOHOL OPER 5a i AVegetable Preparationioras- 3 BA by Regula- | | ging Sionacis and Beis 3G DS IEA NLT Thereby Promotie Digestion’ Eheerfulness and Rest.Gontatms | neither Opium, Morphine nor | : TIC | Mineral. 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On our Fine Coffees at 25c¢, 28¢, 30c, 35¢c and 40c, there has been no change in price on quality of goods and no change in the price of TEAS. Rice has not advanced in price and can be used largely as a substitute for potatoes. All of these goods are costing us more than formerly but we are doing our best to Hold Down the Lid on high prices, hoping for a more favorable market in the near future. LET US HAVE YOUR ORDER and we will give you FINE GROCERIES at reasonable prices and give you good service. SECHLER & COMPANY, Bush House Block, - 57-1 - - - Bellefonte, Pa. ° A A TR TL Come to the “Watchman” office for High Class Job work. Shoes. . Shoes. Shoes Shoes Shoes $1.98 $1.98 $1.98 Your choice of any pair of Ladies’ SHOE For $1.98 These Pumps are of this season’s goods, made in many styles, Patent and Gun Metal. A Rare Bargain. SHOES SHOES SHOLS $198 $198 $1.98 YEAGER'S, The Shoe Store for the Poor Man. Bush Arcade Bldg. 58-27 BELLEFONTE, PA. 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