Bellefonte, Pa., September 2, 1921.
OO ———————————————————————————————————————
THE EASY CURE.
You had a little hurt today,
I know it by your face,
. A hurt you hoped to hide away,
And yet it left a trace.
You tried to wear the usual smile,
Yet futilely you tried—
That little trouble all the while
Was hurting you inside.
My, my, I wish that money, too,
Would earn the interest
That ordinary troubles do
We carry in our breast!
Inside ourselves deposited
They grow, and grow and grow,
But not in gold—a load of lead
Is all we ever know.
Now, I've a simple little plan
I’ve used with little ills,
I'm glad to tell to any man
Who's blue around the gills:
Just ask yourself: “This little ache,
This trouble, anyhow,
Just how much difference will it make
A year or so from now ?”’
What was it that you used to want?
What was it made you sore?—
Your woes a year ago you can't
Remember any more!
The thought of troubles you forgot
Will cut the new in half;
And then, I bet, as like as not
You will not smile—but laugh!
—Douglas Malloch.
GREEN GARDENS.
Daphne was singing to herself when
she came through the painted gate in
the back wall. She was singing part-
ly because it was June, and Devon,
and she was seventeen, and partly be-
cause she had caught a breath taking
glimpse of herself in the long mirror
as she had flashed through the hall at
home, and it seemed almost too good
to be true that the radiant small per-
son in the green muslin frock with the
wreath of golden hair bound about her
head, and the sea-blue eyes laughing
back at her, was really Miss Daphne
Chiltern. Incredible, incredible luck
to look like that, half Dryad, half
Kate Greenaway—she danced down
the turf path to the herb-garden,
swinging her great wicker basket like
a small mad thing.
“He promised to buy me a bonsie
blue ribbon,” carrolled Daphne, all her
own ribbons flying.
“He promised to buy me a
ribbon,
He promised to buy me a bonnie blue rib-
bon
To tie up——"
The song stopped as abruptly as
though some one had struck it from
her lips. A strange man was kneeling
by the beehive in the herb-garden. He
was looking at her over his shoulder,
at once startled and amused, and she
saw that he was wearing a rather
shabby tweed suit and that his face
was oddly brown against his close-
cropped, tawny hair. He smiled, his
teeth a strong flash of white.
“Hello!” he greeted her, in a tone at
once casual and friendly.
Daphne returned the smile uncer-
tainly. “Hello,” she replied gravely.
The strange man rose easily to his
feet, and she saw that he was very tall
and carried his head rather splendid-
ly, like the young bronze Greek in Un-
cle Roland’s study at home But his
eyes—his eyes were strange—quite
dark and burned out. The rest of him
looked young and vivid and adventur-
ous—but his eyes looked as though the
adventure were over, though they
were still questing.
“Were you looking for any one?”
she asked, and the man shook his
head, laughing.
“No one in particular, unless it was
you.”
Daphne’s soft brow darkened. “It
couldn’t possibly have been me,” she
said in a rather stately small voice,
“because you see, I don’t know you.
Perhaps you didn’t know that there is
no one living in Green Gardens now ?”
“Qh, yes, I knew. The Fanes have
left for Ceylon, haven’t they?”
“Sir Harry left two weeks ago, be-
cause he had to see the old governor
before he sailed, but Lady Audrey on-
ly left last week. She had to close
the London house, too, so there was a
great deal to do.”
“I see. And so Green Gardens is
deserted 7”
“It is sold,” said Daphne, with a
small quaver in her voice, “just this
afternoon. I came over to say good-
by to it, and to get some mint and lav-
ender from the garden.”
“Sold ?”” repeated the man, and there
was an agony of incredulity in the
stunned whisper. He flung out his
arm against the sun-warmed bricks of
the high wall as if to hold off some in-
vader. “No, no; they’d never dare to
sell it.” "
“I’m glad you mind so much,” said
Daphne softly. “It’s strange that no-
body minds but us, isn’t it? I cried
at first—and then I thought that it
would be happier if it wasn’t lonely
and empty, poor dear—and then, it
was such a beautiful day, that I for-
got to be unhappy.”
The manbes towed a wretched smile
on her. “You hardly conveyed the
impression of unrelieved gloom as you
came around that corner,” he assur-
ed her.
“I—I haven’t a very good memory
for being unhappy,” Daphne confessed
remorsefully, a lovely and guilty rose
staining her to her brow at the mem-
ory of that exultant chant.
He threw back his head with a sud-
den shout of laughter.
“These are glad tidings! I'd rather
find a pagan than a Puritan at Green
Gardens any day. Let’s both have a
poor memory. Do you mind if I
smoke ?”
“No,” she replied, “but do you mind
if I ask what you are doing here?”
“Not a bit.” He lit the stubby brown
pipe, curving his hand dexterously to
shelter it from the little breeze. He
had the most beautiful hands that she
had ever seen, slim and brown and fine
—they looked as though they would
be miraculously strong—and miracu-
lously gentle. “I came to see—I came
to see whether there was ‘honey still
for tea,” Mistress Dryad!”
bonnie blue
“Honey—for tea?” she echoed won-
deringly, “was that why you were
looking at the hive?”
He puffed meditatively, “Well—
partly. It’s a quotation from a poem.
Ever read Rupert Brooke?”
“Qh, yes, yes.” Her voice tripped
in its eagerness. “I know one by
heart——
«+f I should die think only this of me:
That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall
be » 0
He cut in on the magical little voice
roughly.
“Ah, what damned nonsense! Do
you suppose he’s happy, in his foreign
field, that golden lover? Why should
not even the dead be hcmesick? No,
no—he was sick for home in Germany
when he wrote that poem of mine--
he’s sicker for it in heaven, Ill war-
rant.” He pulled himself up swiftly
at the look of amazement in Daphne’s
eyes. “I've clean forgotten my man-
ners,” he confessed ruefully. “No,
don’t get that flying look in your eyes
—1 swear that I'll be good. It’s along
time—it’s a long time since I've talk-
ed to any one who needed gentleness.
If you knew what need I had of it,
you'd stay a little while, I think.”
“Of course, I'll stay,” she said. “I'd
love to, if you want me to.”
“] want you to more than I have
ever wanted anything that I can re-
member.” His tone was so matter-
of-fact that Daphne thought that she
must have imagined the words. “Now,
can’t we make ourselves comfortable
for a little while? I'd feel safer if
you weren't standing there ready for
instant flight! Here's a nice bit of
grass—and the wall for a back—-"
Daphne glanced anxiously at the
green muslin frock. “It’s—it’s pret-
ty hard to be comfortable without
cushions,” she submitted diffidently.
The man yielded again to laughter.
“Are even Dryads afraid to spoil their
frocks? Cushions it shall be. There
are some extra ones in the chest in the
East Indian room, aren’t there?”
Daphne let the basket slip through
her fingers, her eyes black through
sheer surprise.
“But how did you know—how did
you know about the lacquer chest?”
she whispered breathlessly.
“Qh, devil take me for a blundering
ass!” He stood considering her for-
lornly for a moment, and then shrug-
ged his shoulders, with the brilliant
and disarming smile. “The game’s up,
thanks to my inspired lunacy! But
I'm going to trust you not to say that
you've seen me. I know about the
lacquer chest because I always kept
my marbles there.”
“Are you—are you Stephen Fane?”
At the awed whisper the man bowed
low, all mocking grace, his hand on his
heart—the sun burnishing his tawny
head.
“Oh-h!” breathed Daphne. She bent
to pick up the wicker basket, her
small face white and hard.
“Wait!” said Stephen Fane. His
face was white and hard too. “You are
right to go—entirely, absolutely right
—but I am going to beg you to stay.
I don’t know what you’ve heard about
me—however vile it is, it’s less than
the truth——"
“I have heard nothing of you,” said
Daphne, holding her gold wreathed
head high, “but five years ago 1 was
not allowed to come to Green Gardens
for weeks because I mentioned your
name. I was told it was not a name
to pass decent lips.”
Something terrible leaped in those
burned-out eyes—and died.
“I had not thought they would use
their hate to lash a child,” he said.
“T'hey were quite right—and you, too.
Good night.”
“Good night,” replied Daphne clear-
ly. She started down the path, but at
its bend she turned to look back—be-
cause she was seventeen, and it was
June, and she remembered his laugh-
ter. He was standing quite still by
the golden straw beehive, but he had
thrown one arm across his eyes, as
though to shut out some intolerable
sight. And then, with a soft little
rush she was standing beside him.
“How—how do we get the cush-
ions?” she demanded breathlessly.
Stephen Fane dropped his arm, and
Daphne drew back a little at the sud-
den blaze of wonder in his face.
“Oh,” he whispered voicelessly.
“Oh, you Loveliness!” He took a ste
toward her, and then stood still,
clinching his brown hands. Then he
thrust them deep in his pockets,
standing very straight. “I do think,”
he said carefully, “I do think you had
better go. The fact that I have tried
to make you stay simply proves the
particular type of rotter that I am.
Good-by—TI’ll never forget that you
came back.”
“I'm not going,” said Daphne stern-
ly. “Not if you beg me. Not if you
are a devil out of hell. Because you
need me. And no matter how many
wicked things you have done, there
can’t be anything as wicked as going
away when some one needs you. How
do we get the cuhsions?”
“Oh, my wise Dryin!” His voice
broke on laughter, but Daphne saw
that his lashes were suddenly bright
with tears. “Stay, then—why, even I
cannot harm you. God himself can’t
grudge me this little space of wonder
—he knows how far I’ve come for it—
hew I've fought and struggled and
ached to win it—how in dirty lands
and dirty places I've dreamed of sum-
mer twilight in a still garden— and
England, England!”
“Didn’t you dream of me?” asked
Daphne wistfully, with a little catch
of reproach.
He laughed again, unsteadily.
“Why, who could ever dream of you,
my Wonder? You are a thousand,
thousand dreams come true.”
Daphne bestowed on him a tremu-
lous and radiant smile. “Please let
us get the cushions. I think I am a
little tired.”
“And I am a graceless fool! There
used to be a pane of glass cut out in
one of the south casement windows.
Shall we try that?” :
“Please, yes. How did you find it,
Stephen?” ~ She saw again that thrill
of wonder on his face, but his voic
was quite steady. )
“Y didn’t find it; I did it! It wasun-
commonly useful, getting in that way
semetimes, I can tell you. And, by
the Lord Harry, here it is. Wait a
minute, Loveliness—I'll get through
and open the south door for you—no
‘chance that way of spoiling the frock.”
| He swung himself up with the swift,
} sure grace of a cat, smiled at her—
vanished—it was hardly a minute lat-
er that she heard the bolts dragging
back in the south door, and he flung
it wide.
The sunlight streamed into the deep
hall and stretched hesitant fingers in-
to the dusty quiet of the great East
Indian room, gilding the soft tones of
the faded chintz, touching very gent-
ly the polished furniture and the dim
prints on the walls. He swung across
the threshold without a word, Daphne
tiptoeing behind him.
“How still it is,” he said in a hushed
voice. “How sweet it smells!”
“It’s the potpourri in the Canton
jars,” she told him shyly. “I always
made it every summer for Lady Au-
drey—she thought I did it better than
any one else. I think so too.” She
flushed at the mirth in his eyes, but
held her ground sturdily. “Flowers
are sweeter for you if you love them
—even dead ones,” she explained
bravely.
were not sweet for you.” Her cheeks
burned bright at the low intensity of
his voice, but he turned suddenly
away. “Oh, there she sails—there she
sails still, my beauty. Isn’t she the
proud one though—straight into the
wind!”. He hung over the little ship
model, thrilled as any child. “The fly-
ing Lady—sée where it’s painted en
her?
I was seven—he had it from his fath-
er when he was six. Lord, how proud
I was!” He stood back to see it bet-
ter, frowning a little. “One of those
ropes is wrong; any fool could tell
that—"
a moment—dropped.
the new owners are probably not sea-
farers! The lacquer chest is at the
far end, isn’t it? Yes, here. Are
three enough—four? We're off!” But
still he lingered, sweeping the great
room with his dark eyes. “It’s fuli of
all kinds of junk—they never liked it
—no period, you see. I had the run
of it—I loved it as though it were
ailve; it was alive, for me. From
Elizabeth’s day down, all the family
adventurers brought their treasures
here—beaten gold and hammered sil-
ver—mother-of-pearl and peacock
feathers, strange woods and stranger
spices, porcelains and embroideries
and blown glass. There was always
an adventurer somewhere in each gen-
eration—and however far he wander-
ed, he came back to Green Gardens to
bring his treasures home. When I
was a yellow-headed imp of Satan,
hiding my marbles in the lacquer
chest, I used to swear that when I
grew up I would bring home the finest
treasure of all, if I had to search the
world from end to end. And now the
last adventurer has come home to
Green Gardens—and he has searched
the world from end to end—and he is
empty-handed.”
“No, no,” whispered Daphne.
has brought home the greatest treas-
ure of all, that adventurer. He has
brought home the beaten gold of his
love, and the hammered silver of his
dreams—and he has brought them
from very far.”
“He had brought greater treasures
than this to you, lucky
the last of the adventurers. “You can
never be sad again—you will always
be gay and proud—because for just
of her hair and the silver of her
voice.” :
“He
wicked girl, and I hope that he will
talk some more. And please, I think
we will go into the garden and see.”
All the way back down the flagged
quiet—even after he had arranged the
cushions against the rose-red wall,
even after he had stretched out at full
length beside her and lighted another
ipe.
After a while he said, staring at the
straw hive: “There used to. be a jol-
ly little fat brown one that was a
great pal of mine. How long do bees
live?”
“lI don’t know,” she answered
vaguely, and after a long pause, full
of quiet, pleasant odors from the bee-
garden, and the sleepy happy noises
of small things tucking themselves
away for the night, and the faint but
poignant drift of tobacco smoke, she
asked: “What was it about ‘honey
still for tea?”
“Oh, that!” He raised himself on
one elbow so that he could see her
better. “It was a poem I came across
while I was in East Africa; some one
sent a copy of Rupert Brooke’s things
to a chap out there, and this one fast-
ened itself around me like a vice. It
starts where he’s sitting in a cafe in
Berlin with a lot of German Jews
around him, swallowing down their
beer; and suddenly he remembers. All
the lost, unforgetable beauty comes
back to him in that dirty place; it gets
him by the throat. It got me, too.
‘“ ‘Ah, God! to see the branches stir
Across the moon at Grantchester!
To smell the thrilling-sweet and rotten
Unforgettable, unforgotten
River-smell, and hear the breeze
Sobbing in the little trees.
Oh, is the water sweet and cool,
Gentle and brown, above the peol?
And laughs the immortal river still
Under the mill, under the mill?
Say, is there Beauty yet to find?
And Certainty? and Quiet kind
Deep meadows yet, for to forget
The lies, and truths, and pain?
yet i
Stands the Church clock at ten to three?
And is there honey still for tea? ”
“That’s beautiful,” she said, “but it
hurts.”
“Thank God you'll never know how
it hurts, little Golden Heart in quiet
gardens. But for some of us, caught
like rats in the trap of the ugly fever
we called living, it was black torture
and yet our dear delight to remember
the deep meadows we had lost—to
wonder if there was honey still for
tea.’
“Stephen, won't you tell me about
it—won’t that help?”
And suddenly some one else looked
at her through those haunted eyes—a
little boy, terrified and forsaken. “Oh,
I have no right to soil you with it.
But I came back to tell some one
about it—1I had to, I had to. I had to
wait until father and Audrey went
. oh,
“They would be dead indeed, if they
Grandfather gave it to me when |
His hands hovered over it for .
“No matter—
“He
room,” said '
one moment he brought you the gold
i
is talking great nonsense,’
room,” said a very small voice, “but |
it is beautiful nonsense, and I am a |
path to the herb-garden they were!
away. I knew they’d hate to see me—
she was my step-mother, you know,
and she always loathed me, and he
never cared. In East Africa I used to
stay awake at night thinking that I
might die, and that no one in England
would ever care—no one would know
how I loved her. It was worse than
dying to think of that.” :
“But why couldn’t you come back to
Green Gardens—why couldn’t you
make them see, Stephen?”
“Why, what was there to see? When
they sent me down from Oxford for
that dirty little affair, I was only nine-
teen—and they told me I had disgrac-
ed my name and Green Gardens and
my country—and I went mad with
pride and shame, and swore I'd drag
their precious name through the dirt
of every country in the world. And I
‘did—and I did.”
His head was buried in his arms,
but Daphne heard. It seemed strange
indeed to her that she felt no shrink-
ing and no terror; only great pity for
what he had lost, great grief for what
| he might have had. For a minute she
forgot that she was Daphne, the heed-
less and gay-hearted, and that he was
a broken and an evil man. For a min-
ute he was a little lad, and she was his
lost mother.
“Don’t mind, Stephen,” she whis-
EE —_—,,—,—— ————————————————————————————
pered to him, “don’t mind. Now you | centuries in her white frock, with eyes
have come home—now it is all done | that snatched the blue ribbon in her
with, that ugliness. Please, please | wind-blown curls—the lady who was
don’t mind.” | as young and lovely as England, for
“No, no,” said the stricken voice, all the years! Oh, I would remember,
“you don’t know, you don’t know, I would remember! It was twilight,
thank God. But I swear I've paid— ' and I was hurrying home through the
I swear, I swear I have. When the dusk after tennis at the rectory; there
others used to take their dirty drugs was a bell ringing quietly somewhere,
to make them forget, they would and a moth flying by brushed against
dream of strange paradises, unknown ‘my face with velvet—and I could
heavens—but through the haze and ! smell the hawthorn hedge glimmering
mist that they brought, I would re- white, and see the first star swinging
member—I would remembei. The i low above the trees, and lower still,
filth and the squalor and vileness 'and brighter still, the lights of home.
would fade and dissolve—and I would '. . . And then before my very eyes,
see the sun-dial, with the yellow roses they would fade, they would fade,
on it, warm in the sun, and smell the ; dimmer and dimmer—they would flick-
clove pinks in the kitchen border, and | er and go out, and I would be back
touch the cresses by the brook, cool | again, with tawdriness and shame and
and green and wet. All the sullen |vileness fast about me—and I would
drums and whining flutes would sink | pay.”
to silence and I would hear the little “But now you have paid enough,”
yellow headed cousin of the vicar’s Daphne told him. “Oh, surely, surely
singing in the twilight, singing, —you have paid enough. Now you
‘There is a lady, sweet and kind’ and have come home—now you can for-
‘Weep you no more, sad fountains’ and get.”
‘Hark, hark, the lark.” And the small “No,” said Stephen Fane. “Now I
painted yellow faces and the little must go.” .
wicked hands and perfumed fans “Go?” At the small startled echo
would vanish and I would see again he raised his head.
the gay beauty of the lady who hung “What else?” he asked. “Did you
above the mantel in the long drawing- think that I would stay ?”
room, the lady who laughed across the (Continued on page 6, column 1).
Election Proclamation !
2 OD SAVE THE COMMONWEALTH.—
I. Harry Dukeman. High Sheriff of
the County of Centre, Common-
wealth of Pennsylvania, do hereby make
known and give notice to the elector: of
the County aforesaid that an election will
be held in the said county of Centre on the
THIRD TUESDAY IN SEPTEMBER, 1921.
being the
20th of September, 1921
i for the purpose of electing the several per-
sons hereinafter named, to wit:
| One person for Representative in Con-
' gress at Large.
| Proposed Constitutional Convention—
. Shall a Constitutional Convention be held
in the year one thousand nine hundred and
| twenty-two as provided in the Act of As-
! sembly. approved the twenty-seventh day
i of April, one thousand nine hundred and
| twenty-one?
{ I also hereby make known and give no-
tice that the place of hoiding elections in
| the several wards, boroughs, districts and
{ townships within the County of Centre is
as follows:
For the North Ward of the borough of
! Bellefonte, at the Logan Hose Co. house on
east Howard street.
1
| Bellefonte, in the Undine Fire Co. Building.
| Bellefonte, in the carriage shop of 8. A.
i McQuistion, in Bellefonte.
! For the borough of Centre Hall, in a
. room at Runkle’s hotel.
| For the borough of Howard, at the pub-
, lie school in said borough.
For the borough of Millheim, in the
school house, now the Municipal building.
| For the borough of Milesburg, in the bor-
ough building on Market street.
| For the First Ward of the borough of
| Philipsburg, in the Reliance Hose house.
i For the Second Ward of the borough of
. Philipsburg, at the Public Building at the
corner of North Centre and Presqueisle
streets.
For the Third Ward of the borough of
Philipsburg, at Bratton’s Garage, norih-
east corner of Seventh and Pine streets.
{ For the borough of South Philipsburg,
at the City Hall in South Philipsburg.
For the borough of Snow Shoe, in the
borough building.
For the borough of State College, East
~#Precinet,—on College Avenue at the Odd
Fellows Hall.
For the borough of State College, Wes
Precinet,—on Frazier street, at the Fire-
. mens’ Hall.
For the borough of Unionville, in
Grange Hall in said borough.
DEMOCRAT
[EE] |
PROHIBITION
SOCIALIST
|
i cinet, at Murray’s school house.
For the South Ward of the borough of
For the West Ward of the borough of |
|
|
|
1 0. O, F. hall in the village of Stormstown.
First Column
To Vote a Straight Party Ticket
Mark a Cross (X) in this Column
REPUBLICAN
i Wolf's Store.
the |
| cinet, in Mrs. Jacob Gephart's residence in
For the township of Benner, North Pre-
For the township of Miles, West Pre-
cinct, at the store room of Elias Miller, in
Madisonburg.
For the township of Patton, in the shop
of John Hoy at Waddle.
. For the township of Penn, in the build-
ing formerly owned by Luther Guisewite,
at Coburn.
For the township of Potter, North Pre-
cinet, at the Old Fort hotel.
For the township of Potter, South Pre-
cinet, at the hotel in the village of Pot-
ters Mills.
For the township of Potter, West Pre-
cinet, at the store of George Miess, at Col-
yer.
For the township of Rush, North Pre-
cinet, at the Township Poor House,
For the township of Rush, East Precinct,
at the school house in the village of Cas-
sanova.
For the township of Rush, South Pre-
cinct, at the school house in the village of
Powelton.
For the township of Rush, West Pre-
cinet, at the school house near Osceola
Mills, known as the Tower school house.
For the township of Snow Shoe Kast
Precinct, at the school house in the village
of Clarence.
For the township of Snow Shoe, West
Precinct, at the house of Alonza A. Groe, in
the village of Moshannon.
For the township of Spring, North Pre-
cinet, in the township building erected
near Mallory’s blacksmith shop.
For the township of Spring, South Pre-
cinet, at the public house formerly owned
by John C. Mulfinger, in Pleasant Gap.
For the township of Spring, West Pre-
cinct, in the township building at Coleville.
For the township of Taylor, in the house
erected for the purpose, at Leonard Merry-
man’s.
For the township of Union, in the town-
ship public building.
For the township of Walker, East Pre-
cinet, in a building owned by Solomon
Peck in the village of Huston.
For the township of Walker, Middle Pre-
cinet, in Grange Hall in the village of Hub-
lersburg.
For the township of Walker, West Pre-
cinet, at the dwelling house of John Roy-
er, in the village of Zion.
Tor the township of Worth, in the hall
of the Knights of the Golden Eagle, in the
village of Port Matilda.
List of Nominations.
The official list of nominations made by
the several parties, and as their names will
appear upon the ticket to be voted on the
20th, day of September, 1921, at the differ-
ent voting places in Centre County, as cer-
tified to respectively by the Secretary of
the Commonwealth are given in the ac-
companying form of ballot, which is sim-
ilar to the official ballot.
cinet, at the Knox school house.
For the township of Benner, South Pre-
cinet, at the new brick school house at
Rockview.
For the township of Boggs, North Pre-
cinet, at Walker's school house.
For the township of Boggs, Fast Pre-
cinet, at the hall of Knights of Labor, in
the village of Curtin.
For the township of Boggs, West Pre-
cinet, at the school house in Central City.
For the township of Burnside, in the
building owned by William Hipple, in the
village of Pine Glen.
For the township of College, at
school house in the village of Lemont.
For the township of Curtin, North Pre-
cinet, at the school house in the village of
Orviston.
For the township of Curtin, South Pre-
cinet, at the school house near Robert
Mann's.
For the township of Ferguson, East Pre-
cinet, at the public house of J. W. Kepler,
in Pine Grove Mills.
For the township of Ferguson, West
Precinet, at Baileyville school house in the
village of Baileyville.
For the township of Ferguson, North
Precinct, at the store of H. N. Musser, one
mile west of State College, at Struble sta-
tion.
For the township of Gregg, North Pre-
the
For the township of Gregg, East Pre-
cinet, at the house occupied by William A.
Sinkabine at Penn Hall.
For the township of Gregg, West Pre-
cinet, in Vocational School Room at Spring
Mills.
For the township of Haines, East Pre-
cinet, school house in the village of Wood-
ward.
For the township of Haines, West Pre-
cinct, at the residence of E, A. Bower.
For the township of Halfmoon, in the I.
For the township of Harris, East Pre-
cinet, at the building owned by Harry Me-
Clellan, in the village of Linden Hall.
For the township of Harris, West Pre-
cinet, at the Boal Hall in the village of
Boalsburg.
For the township of Howard, in
township public building.
For the township of Huston, in the town-
ship building erected in the village of
Julian.
For the township of Liberty, East Pre-
cinet, at the school house in Eagleville.
For the township of Liberty, West Fre-
cinct, at the school house af Monument.
For the township of Marion, at the
Grange Hall in the village of Jacksonville.
For the township of Miles, East Precinct.
at the dwelling house of G. H. Showers, at
the
For the township of Miles, Middle Pre-
Rebersburg.
To vote a straight party ticket, mark a cross (X) in the square, in
the first column, opposite the name of the party of your choice.
A cross mark in the square opposite the name of any candidate
indicates a vote for that candidate.
To vote for a person whose name is not on the ballot, write or
paste his name in the blank space provided for that purpose.
Representative in Congress
at Large.
(Vote for One.)
Thomas S. Crago, Republican.
John P. Bracken, Democrat.
Cora M. Bixler, Socialist.
B. E. P. Prugh, Prohibition.
PROPOSED CONSTITUTIONAL CONVENTION
| Shall a Constitutional Convention be held in the year one
| thousand nine hundred and twenty-two as provided in the
| Act of Assembly approved the twenty-seventh day of
April, one thousand nine hundred and twenty-one ?
Yes
No
Voters favoring the holding of a Constitutional Convention in the year
one thousand nine hundred and twenty-two will mark a cross ( X) to the
right of the word “Yes.”
Those opposing the holding of a Convention will mark a cross (X) to the
right of the word “No.”
Notice is hereby given, that every per-
son excepting Justice of the Peace, who
shall hold any office or appointment of
profit or trust under the Government of the
United States or this State, or of any city
or incorporated district whether a com-
mission officer or otherwise a subordi-
nate officer or agent who is or shall be em-
loyed under the Legislative, Executive or
Su iciary department of this State, or of
the Uuited States or ef any city or incor-
porated district, and also that every mem- |
ber of Congress and of the State Legisla-
ture, and of the select or common council
of any city, or commissioners of any incor-
holding elections, the polls shall be opened
at 7 o’clock A. M. and closed at 7 o'clock
P. M.
porated district is, by law, incapable of
holding or exercising at the same time the
office or appointment of judge, inspector or
clerk of any election of this Common-
wealth, and that no inspector, judge or
other officer of any such election, shall be
eligible to any office to be then voted for,
except that of an election officer.
Under the law of the Commonwealth for
Given under my hand and seal at my of-
fice in Bellefonte, this 27th day of August,
in the year of our Lord, nineteen hundred
and twenty-one and in the one hundred
and forty-sixth year of the Independence
of the United States of America.
HARRY DUKEMAN (Seal)
66-34-3t Sheriff of Centre County.
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