Democratic watchman. (Bellefonte, Pa.) 1855-1940, December 23, 1921, Image 2

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    7G RIAHORSE
—_—_—, es
IGHT BY CHAR
(Continued).
SYNOPSIS.
CHAPTER I.—Under his grandfather's
will, Stanford Broughton, society idler,
finds his share of the estate, valued at
something like $440,000, lies in a ‘‘safe re-
pository,” latitude and longitude de-
scribed, and that is all. It may be identi-
fled by the presence nearby of a brown-
haired, blue-eyed girl, a piebald horse,
and a dog with a split face, half black
and half white. Stanford at first regards
the bequest as a joke, but after considera-
tion sets out to find his legacy.
CHAPTER II.—On his way to Denver,
the city nearest the meridian described
in his grandfather’s will, Stanford hears
from a fellow traveler a story having to
do with a flooded mine.
CHAPTER IIL—Thinking things over,
he begins to imagine there may be some-
thing in his grandfather's bequest worth
while, his idea finally centering on the
possibility of a mine, as a “safe reposi-
tory.” Recalling the narrative on the
train, he ascertains that his fellow trav-
eler was a mining engineer, Charles Bul-
lerton. Bullerton refuses him _informa-
tion, but from other sources Broughton
learns enough to make him proceed to
Placerville, in the Red desert.
|
CHAPTER IV.—On the station platform |
at Atropia, just as the train pulls out, |
Stanford sees what appear to be the iden- !
tical horse and dog described in his
grandfather's will. Impressed, he leaves !
the train at the next stop, Angels. There |
he finds that Atropia was originally
Placerville, his destination. Unable to |
secure a conveyance at once to take him |
to Placerville, Broughton seizes a con-!
struction car and escapes, leaving the im-
pression on the town marshal, Beasley,
that he is slightly demented.
CHAPTER
the car, which is wrecked, and escapes on
foot. In the darkness, he is overtaken
by a girl on horseback, and THE dog. |
After he explains his presence, she in-
vites him to her home, at the Old Cinna-
bar mine. to meet her father.
CHAPTER VI.—Broughton’s hosts are
Hiram Twombly, caretaker of the mine,
and his daughter Jeanie. Seeing the girl,
Stanford is satisfied he has located his
property, but does not reveal his identity.
CHAPTER VIIL.—Next morning, with
Hiram, he visits the mine. Hiram asks
him to look over the machinery, and he |
does so, glad of an excuse to be near
Jeanie, In whom he has become inter-
ested, and he engages in the first real
work he has ever done.
CHAPTER VIII.—Broughton and Hiram
get the pumps started, but are unable to
make an impression on the water. Bul-
lerton, apparently an old friend of the
Twomblys, visits the mine. He offers
to drain it in consideration of Brough-
ton’s giving hm fifty-one per cent of the
property. Stanford refuses. Then Buller-
ton offers to buy the mine outright for
$50,000. It had cost Broughton’s Land:
V.—Pursued, he abandons
y.
father more than half a million.
ford again refuses.
algnt exactly where I did in the!
beginning,” I snapped. “I don’t want
any forty-nine-fifty-one per cent part-
nership with you; neither that nor any
other kind.”
“All right,” he rejoined, brusquely;
“we'll call that phase of it a back num- |
ber and go on to something else. I'll
buy your mine, just as it stands. water !
and all—and that’s what nobody else
would do, you'd better believe.” i
“For how much?” !
“For fifty thousand dollars—cash.” |
“No,” I grated. “I don’t need a lit- |
tle money that badly.” !
“Fifty thousand isn’t a little: at a!
good, safe, investment interest it will
give you an income of three thousand |
a year. And that's more than you're
getting now out of what your father |
left you.”
“You seem to know a good bit about |
my private affairs,” I growled. |
“You seid a mouthful, then. TI've |
made it my business to find out about |
them. There's nothing much to you, |
|
Broughton, when you come right down |
to brass tacks. You had a good educa- |
tion. hut you haven't had get-up-and-gcet !
enough in vou to make any use of it.” |
“The less you dig in my private gar- |
den patch, the better we shall get
along,” I told him.
He was silent for a moment. He |
had picked up a bit of iron rod and
was tracing hieroglyphic figures with
it in the dust of the shop floor. Pres-
ently he looked up with a sort of mock-
ing leer.
“Been trying to carry sentimental
water on both shoulders, haven't you?
I'm telling you right now, Broughton,
it’s no use. I filed on the little Blue-
eyes claim over yonder in Twombly's
cabin a long, long time before you ever
saw or heard of it.”
That remark of his carried things
over the edge for me.
“See here, Bullerton,” I said, and I
suppose I stuck out my jaw at him as
people say I do when I'm beginning
to feel ugly, “there are limits, and
I'll pay you the compliment of assum-
ing that you are not quite a born fool.
We are going to leave Miss Twombly
out of it; completely and absolutely
out of it.”
“You may; but I shan’t,” he grinned
back at me. “In point of fact, my
dear fellow, now that I come to think
of it, you'll have to leave her out.”
“Not for anything you may say or
do, or leave unsaid or undone.”
“Yes, you will; and for something
that I may say. And I guess this is
as good a time as any to mention it.
Have you forgotten that you have ad-
vertised yourself in this out-of-the-way
corner of the world rather successful-
ly as one of two things: a pretty
dangerous sort of lunatic, or—a crim-
inal? As a matter of fact, the rail-
road detectives have been looking high,
low and level for you ever since you
ANDADOG
By
Stole that Inspection motor at the An- |
gels platform and oot it smashed.”
“Twombly knows about that; and
so does Miss Twombly,” I cut in.
“They wouldn't give you away, of
course; in a certain sense you are
Twombly’s guest, and in another you're
his employer. But you'll notice that
neither of these restrictions apply to
me. Now, perhaps, you can understan~
just why you are obliged, in ordinary
prudence, to leave the girl out of it—
and why I am not so obliged.”
“Miss Twombly, herself, has the
casting vote on that,” is what I flung
at him.
“She has already voted,” he said
coolly. Then: “You're not in the
zame, Broughton; you don’t hold any-
thing higher than 1 seven-spot, and
you are bucking a straight flush. Do
you take fifty thousand and vanish?
That is the one live question of the
moment.”
“No.”
“Very well; I'll give you another
| day to think it over; but I'm warning
| you here and now that the price will
shrink, It is fifty thousand today, say
up to sunset: tomorrow it will be for-
ty thousand.”
I slid from the anvil and half un-
consciously picked up the blacksmith’s
hand-hammer.
“You go straight to h—1,” I said;
and at that he left me.
I sat down to try once more to think
things out to some sort of an action
focus. Should I take Bullerton’s fif-
ty thousand and quit? Common sense
said Yes, spelling it with a capital and
underscoring it for emphasis. What
was the use in hanging on? Hadn't
we proved that the mine was undrain-
able, save, perhaps, at the enormous
cost of driving an underrunning tunnel
from a lower slope of the mountain?
Then there was Jeanie. Then, again,
there was Lisette. Fifty thousand
dollars at six per cent would buy ner
hats—but it wouldn't buy much else.
1 could picture the calm and collected
way in which she would say, “Yes.
Stannie; you've succeeded nicely in
financing the hats. But you know as
well as I do that we couldn't buy hats
and keep a car on three thousand a
{ year.”
I had just climbed down to this bot-
tom round of the ladder of dejection
when I heard a bit of noise and looked
up to see a small, trim figure darken-
SR
SESS
eS
SIRE
os
SaaS
ZS
>
a,
oS
nS
“Mr. Broughton—Stannie, Are You
Here?”
ing the engine-room door. Then a
voice that I would have recognized in
1 thousand voices all speaking at once,
said:
“Mr. Broughton—Stannie, are you
here?”
CHAPTER IX.
To Fish or Cut Bait.
it is nothing short of wonderful how
the sourest grouch can sometimes be
banished by a single word. That word
“Stannie,” you know; she had never
called me that before; though her
father had been using the familiar han-
dle, western-wise, right along, almost
from the day I landed on the Cinnabar
reservation,
“Yes,” I said, and jumped up and
went to her.
“Did you ever hear of such a thing
as a bear with a sore head?’ she
asked, In the tone of a schoolma’am
asking the dull boy if he'd ever heard
of the letter “A.”
“Often,” 1 admitted.
“Well, isn’t that the way you've been
acting?”
“Haven't I some little cause?”
“Maybe, of course, I'm willing to
make some allowances. It does seem
provoking that your grandfather
should have left things in such a
dreadful muddle.”
| almost a total stranger to him.”
readier to talk than a stuck pig is te!
| pany.
time hammering around this old bunch
torment me?” I rasped.
“How much do you know about the i
| muddle?’ I asked.
“] know that old Mr. Dudley let,
or partly let, a contract for the drain- !
ing of the mine, to a man who was
I saw how it was. Bullerton, always
bleed, had been giving her his own |
version of things. But I let that part
of it go.
“Grandfather Jasper was laboring
for the good of my soul. He knew his
‘medium,’ as the artists say. He
wanted to make me work—something
that nobody else has ever been able
to do.”
“Don’t you like to work?”
“Why-e-e, I guess I'm like other folk
in that respect. I don’t mind working
if I can pick my job—and my com-
I've been having a bully good
of junk with your father. Or I was
having one until Satan came also.”
“Meaning Mr. Bullerton?”
“Quite so; meaning Mr. Bullerton,
christened ‘Charles.’”
“Ought I to stay here and listen if
you're going to say things about him?” |
“Not if you are going to marry him, :
you shouldn’t.”
“Well, why shouldn’t I marry him |
if T want to? Hasn't he plenty of |
money? And haven't I told you that
I'd marry for money?”
“Humph!” said I; “when you talk !
that way you are saying out loud just
what Lisette says to herself—only you
don’t mean it and she does. But tell !
me how did you get permission to |
come over here and talk with me?”
“Whose permission—Daddy’s?”
“No; Bullerton’s, of course.”
“I don’t have to ask it—yet.”
“Not yet, but soon,” I grinned. “All
things come to him—or her—who
waits. Just the same, you shouidn’t
have come. It's cruelty to animals.
After a man has traveled thousands of
miles to sit at the feet of the one girl
in the universe, only to find himself !
elbowed by a brown-whiskered jeet—" |
“Hush!” she chided. “Can't you
ever be serious? You are not sitting
at anybody's feet. What are you go-
ing to do about the mine?”
“Bullerton offered to unwater the
Cinnabar if I'd deed him a bit more
than a half interest—and possibly he'd
still be willing to do that, which would
mean that he’d form a stock company
and freeze me out completely when
he got good and ready.”
“And what is the other way?’
“He offers to buy the mine outright,
just as it stands, for fifty thousand
dollars.”
“But your grandfather paid nearly
half a million for it, didn’t he?”
“Even so. But, you see, in the pres-
ent scrap I'm the under dog. The man |
you are going to marry has none of the |
nice little scruples in a business trans- |
action—if you'll permit me to go that !
far. He even threatens to turn me !
over to the authorities for stealing
that inspection car and getting it |
smashed.” :
“Oh, I don’t believe he’d do that!” |
she deprecated.
“It is perfectly right and preper
that you shouldn’t think so—in the !
circumstances. Just the same, you'll |
pardon me if I say that I'm swearing i
continuously and prayerfully at the |
circumstances.”
“You don’t want me to marry money !
and have good clothes and all the other
nice things, and travel and see the :
world, and all that?”
“No, by Jove! I want you to marry !
me.” |
Her laugh was just a funny littie
gurgle.
“Bluebeard!” she said, just like
that. “And you haven't even killed
Miss Randle yet! Thank you, ever so
much; but I don’t want to be one of
several. Besides, you haven’t any
money.”
Talk of impasses and impossible sit-
uations! What could a man say, or
hope to say, to such a girl as that!
“Did you come over here just to
“Woof!” she shivered, “here comes
, the bear again!” and then, right smash |
once, Stannie-bear.”
. head and wouldn’t stay another min-
ute, though I begged and pleaded with
out of a clear sky: “Kiss me—just
Did I? She was gasping a bit when
she got up rather unsteadily to go
back to the cabin across the dump
her.
“No, indeed, Bluebeard man,” she
said with that queer little gurgle of a
laugh. “I—I think I have found out |
what I wanted to. Goodby.” And |
| then, after I thought she was clean
' gone, she turned back to say, airily:
|
“Oh, yes; I had almost forgotten what |
I came over here to tell you. You !
mustn’t sell the Cinnabar, Stannie; not
for any price that anybody might offer |
-ou. Goodby, again.”
Can you beat it? When the good !
Lora made women He doubtless had |
many patterns; but T do believe the
mold was broken and thrown away |
after this Jeanie girl had been fash- |
ioned. For a solid hour or more I sat
on that slab bench at the shafthouse
door in a sort of bewildered daze, won-
dering if I had been asleep and dream- |
ing, or if the bedazzling thing had
really happened. |
At breakfast the next morning every- |
thing passed off as usual and for any-
thing that Jeanie said or looked there
needn't have been any bench beside
the shafthouse door and the dream
theory I had been playing with might
have been the sober fact. An hour
later, after I had gone across to the
mine, Bullerton came over to dig me
| out, as before,
“Forty thousand this morning,” he
announced as chipper as an English
sparrow over an unexpected heap of
street sweepings. “Say, Broughton,
can you afford to let your capital
shrink at the rate of ten thousand dol-
lars a day? If you should ask me, I
should say not.”
“You never miss what you haven't
had,” I shot back. “There are no
takers on the floor this morning.”
“Right-0; it'll be thirty thousand to-
morrow, you must remember, At that
rate you'll be owing me quite a chunk
of money by this time next week
That's about all I have to say—ex-
cepting one more little thing: No more
chinny little tete-a-tetes in the star- |
light, old man, or I shall be obliged to
put the gad to you; the railroad gad, !
you know.”
It made me so boiling hot to have
him admit, thus baldly, that he had
been spying upon Jeanie and me the
previous evening that I could scarcely
see straight.
“That will be about enough!” 1
barked. “I told you the other day
that there were limits, and you've
walked up and looked over the edge
two or three times. You may think
you have as many lives as a cat, but
I doubt it!”
He laughed and threw back the la-
pel of his coat to show me a regula-
tion six-gun slung by a shoulder strap
under his left arm.
“You pulled a hammer on me yester-
day,” he said, letting the laugh lapse
into a grin that showed his fine mouth-
ful of teeth, “and you probably didn’t
know that you would have been a dead
man before you could swing it. Oh,
ves; 1 could do it, and any coroner's
jury in the Red desert would acquit
me; dangerous lunatic—self-defense,
you know. That's a word to the wise,
and it ought to be sufficient. But I
have a better life-insurance policy than
any that the six-gun could write me:
you're in love with Jeanie Twombly—
in spite of that girl back East; and be-
cause you are, you are not going to
make her a widow before the fact.
You're not selling your mine for forty
thousand—cold cash—this morning?”
“Not this morning or any other
morning.”
“Good. I can afford to stick around
here a few days longer, I guess—at
the rate of ten thousand dollars a day.
So long.” And he picked his way out
of the clutter of the shop and went
across to the cabin—and Jeanie.
Later, along in this same day, while
I was standing at the shaft mouth and
staring down at the water that was
keeping me out of my heritage, Dad-
dy Hiram came up.
“Still a-puzzlin’ over it, Stannie?”
he asked, in the sympathetic tone that
he always used when he spoke of the
Great Disappointment.
“There’s ncthing to- it, Daddy,” I
gloomed. “Bullerton has me by the
neck, and he knows it.”
He tiptoed to the door and peeped
out.
“You've heard ’em say ’at curiosity
ikilled a cat,” he said, out of the cor-
ner of his mouth; “well, the cat's a-
comin’. Skip out o’ that other door,
Stannie, and hit for the timber. Tl
ketch up with you in a little spell.”
I didn’t know exactly what he was
driving at until after I got clear of
the mine buiplings and was climbing
‘the slope of the mountain above. Then
1,
He Waved Me to a Seat, on a Pile
of Broken Rock.
I looked back and saw Bullerton saun-
tering across the dump head. He was
evidently bent on another liitle job
of spying; either that, or else he didn’t
want Daddy and me to get together
by ourselves.
Under cover of the forest I sat down
and waited ; and in a short time Daddy
joined me, making an excuse for the
dodge-away that didn’t mean anything
at all.
“] got a claim over yonder in the
right-hand gulch—the one ’at I was
workin’ when your gran’paw came
along,” he said. “Thought maybe
you'd like to mog over with me and
take a look at her.”
Of course, I said I'd be delighted;
80 we made a detour around the Cin-
nabar, keeping out of sight from the
cabin and shaft-house, and pushing on
around the western slope for maybe
half a mile until we came to the gulch
in which the abandoned claim lay.
Working entirely alone, Daddy had
driven a tunnel possibly ‘a hundred feet
deep straight into the solid rock of the
mountain side, following the thin vein
and hoping that it would widen into
a “pay-streak.” After he had led me
a few yards into the tunnel, he waved
me to a seat on a pile of broken rock,
and took one himself with his back
against the opposite wall.
“I'm gettin’ just naturally so I hate
a gosh-dummed crowd,” he remarked,
switching suddenly from his talk of the
abandoned claim. “Feel sometimes as
if I'd like to swap skins with a con-
dummed gopher and duck plumb into
a hole.”
“Well, said 1, grinning at him,
“you’ve ducked, for once in a way, an‘
so have I. What about it?”
“Charley Bullerton,” he spat ont
without further preface. ‘That slick-
tongued word artist sure does get onto
my nerves. What-all’s he tryin’ to do
! to you, anyway, Stannie?”
I didn’t see any reason why he
shouldn’t know, so I told him ali of
it, from start to finish, offers, bully-
ings, and threats, but, of course, noth-
ing about the Jeanie factor.
“Great Moses!” he ejaculated, at the
end of the sorry tale.
Methusaleh !—it’s a hold-up! Do you
reckon he kin unwater the Cinnabar?”
“Surest thing ir the world. So
could you or I, if we had the money
the lower slope.”
The old man smoked along in
thoughtful silence for a few minutes.
Then ha said:
“Bout that there tunnel job; some-
thin’ like two hundred thousand, we
fiugerd that’d cost, with no bad luck,
didn’t we, Stannie?”
“That was the figure.”
“And, first off, Charley Bulierton
was willin’ to give you fifty thousand
for your rights—though now you say
he's shaved it down to forty. That'd
mean an investment of at least two
hundred and fifty thousand; all a-goin’
out and nothin’ a-comin’ in. Let's see
where that's fetchin' us to. 1 don’t
know what your gran’paw paid for the
mine, but it was less'n half a million,
and I reckon he paid ever’ dollar it
was worth, don’t you?”
(Continued Next
Veek).
CAROL SINGING.
The custom of outdoor carol sing-
'ing on Christmas Eve, which has
| been spreading throughout the coun-
| try so rapidly during the past few
| years, has in the course of its exten-
i sion developed different characterist-
lics in various cities, which are coming
iin for serious discussion, now that the
i Yuletide season is approaching, by
j community workers and others who
| will organize this year’s singing
i groups. The National Bureau for the
| Advancement of Music, which made
"a survey of the cities in which carol-
{ing through the streets was done last
year, at the same time made a study
| of the methods followed in rehearsing
{and costuming the itinerant bands,
| mapping out the districts to be cover-
| ed, selecting stopping places and col-
i lecting funds for charitable purposes
where this was a feature of the ar-
rangements.
‘this study shows that where the
town has a community Christmas tree
in some central place it is usual for
the carolers to meet and sing in a
body around the tree before dividing
up into groups to visit the residential
sections. In the absence of a general
rendezvous the starting place of each
group is as a rule the church, school-
house or community centre where it
has been rehearsed. There are rare-
ly more than 25 singers in a band and
rarely less than 10.
. Cities in which the Community
Service has a representative usually
‘have their caroling plans worked out
by that organization acting either in-
dependently or in co-operation with
i local individuals or groups. Last year
the Community Service included in its
| preparations a campaign to teach the
public “a carol a day” in order that
young and old might join in the sing-
ing. This campaign will be given
i even more attention this year.
| rr rn
' Resident Fisherman’s License Effect-
ive January 1st, 1922.
i
|
| CHRISTMAS EVE
i
|
i
The resident fisherman’s license law
which was approved by the Governor
the 16th day of May, 1921, becomes
effective the first day of January,
1922, and provides that all citizens of
the State of Pennsylvania (male or
female) over twenty-one years of age
must take out a license to fish or an-
gle in any of the waters of this Com-
monwealth or in the waters bounding
or adjacent thereto.
These licenses can be secured from
the county treasurer of any county, or
the Department of Fisheries, Harris-
burg, upon the payment of one dollar
for each license, together with the
cost of treasurer’s fee, if secured
through him. In applying for license
the applicant must give name, resi-
dence, occupation and age. The act
provides that for violations the fine
is twenty-five dollars ($25.00) and
the Department of Fisheries will en-
deavor to enforce the same.
All persons who are interested in
the propagation of the fish and the
purification of the streams are urged
to take out their license by January
first as the appropriations received
from the last Legislature by the De-
partment of Fisheries were only suf-
ficient to operate all branches of its
work until January 1st, 1922.
COAL MINERS IN “BACK
TO SCHOOL” MOVEMENT.
Coal miners in central and western
Pennsylvania have joined the “Back
to School” movement. Six hundred of
them are now attending instruction
classes established in sixteen towns by
the mining extension division of The
Pennsylvania State College. Started
on a large scale only a year ago, the
mine schools have grown in numbers,
attendance and popularity through
the efforts of Dean E. S. Moore and
Prof. W. C. Duncan, extension direc-
tor. Several more classes are to be
started after the first of the year.
The miners are given such instruc
tion that will fit them to become fore-
{ men, inspectors, fire bosses, etc., and
| they are greatly interested in the
| work. Towns where classes are now
Low held after working hours and
the number of enrollments in each
are:
Patton, 88; Barnesboro, 75; St. Ben-
! edict, 20; Madera, 22; Houtzd2le, 15;
| Hastings, 34; Winburne, 75; Philips-
| burg, 20; Johnstown, 25; Somerset,
40; Brownsville, 76; Curtisville, 45;
. Robertsdale, 80; Cresson, 22; Dudley,
26, and Woodvale, 25.
EE — — ————————————————————————————————————E————————
GOVERNMENT SAVINGS
SECURITIES.
A new issue of government savings
securities is being offered by the
Treasury Department for sale to the
public beginning this week. The new
securities consist of treasury savings
' certificates in three denominations,
maturing five years from date of is-
sue, and bearing 4% per cent. interest
compounded semi-annually. The pric-
es are $20, $80 and $800, which at ma-
turity will yield $25, $100 and $1,000
respectively.
‘they are designed particularly for
| the convenience and safety of small
investors, and for offering satisfac-
' tory income r nd satety f
“Why. zosti-to. | y e return and satety for the
surplus 1unds of labor, 1raternal,
church and similar organizations.
The new certificates are redeemable
before they mature at their cost price
plus 3% per cent. interest compounded
to drive a long drainage tunnel from | SS ally.
With the new certificates, Secretary
i Mellon announced the postal savings
and treasury savings have been co-
ordinated with the result that the gov-
ernment will have a unified savings
| system, starting with the 10 per cent.
| postal saving stamp, postal savings
| deposits from $1 and up, the treasury
savings stamp and the $25, $100 and
$1,000 treasury savings certificates.
| Lhe treasury 25 cent thrift stamp and
| $6 war savings stamp will be discon-
tinued December 31.
The certificates mature five years
from the date of issue in each case,
instead of at a uniform maturity date,
and if held to maturity yield interest
at the rate of about 4% per cent. per
annum compounded semi-annually.
The certificates are redeemable before
maturity at the redemption values
stated on the backs of the certificates,
upon presentation and surrender to
the Treasury Department, and in that
event yield interest at the rate of
about 3% per cent. per annum com-
pounded semi-annually. The $25 cer-
tificate bears the portrait head of
Theodore Roosevelt, the $100 certifi-
cate that of Washington, and the
$1,000 certificate that of Lincoln. The
new certificates are issued only in reg-
istered form, in order to afford pro-
tection against loss and theft, and will
be recorded on the books of the Treas-
ury Department in Washington. The
name and address of the owner and
the date of issue will be inscribed on
each certificate by the issuing agent
at the time of issue. The terms of
the certificates have been much sim-
plified as compared with previous is-
sues, and the offering is on a basis
which should prove particularly at-
tractive to small investors.
The limit of holdings has been in-
creased by the Act of Congress ap-
proved November 23, 1921, from $1,-
000 to $5,000, and it is now possible
therefore to hold treasury (war) sav-
ings certificates of any one series up
to an aggregate maturity value not
exceeding $5,000. This change makes
the certificates attractive for the in-
vestment of trust funds and the sur-
plus funds of labor, fraternal, church
and similar organizations which seek
an investment of intermediate length,
with absolute safety and a satisfac-
tory income return.
A COMMUNITY
CHRISTMAS TREE.
Salt Lake City, Utah.—This year
the city square in Salt Lake City will
be the scene, for the fifth time, of the
live community Christmas tree.
In a large area set with native trees
stands one large fir, transplanted
years ago from the mountains. Hach
Christmas it is gayly lighted and dec-
orated, and the surrounding area is
fenced off with holiday colors and
Yuletide wreaths, about which the
snow is trodden by thousands as they
gaze with joy at this symbol of com-
munity cheer and promise of good
will to men.
Last Christmas a new fall of snow
made the tree a glamor of crystal
loveliness in a setting of pure white-
ness. As the lights were switched on,
came the carollers. In large, lighted
busses sixty singers from Salt Lake’s
Oratorio Society were carried from
corner to corner, where they bade the
passers-by pause and join in a carol.
Then after a dozen or more stops they
drove, singing, into the city square
and encircled the tree. They sang,
and all the crowd sang. As they de-
parted they left behind a Christmas
cheer on every lip.
The plans tor the present year con-
template the redecoration of the same
tree, the Oratorio Carollers, the Cim-
munity Orchestra and the Boy Scout
Band. Since the weather does not
permit prolonged outdoor programs,
the plan this year includes, in addi-
tion, a free Christmas production in
the Little Theatre by the Players
Club or the University Dramatic Club.
The great finale of the holiday season
comes with the annual community
production of Handel’s Messiah by
the Salt Lake Oratorio Society under
the direction of Squire Coop. This
New Year’s Day rendition is given in
the large tabernacle that will seat
10,000, and at the small fees of 25 and
50 cents. The 200 singers and the di-
rector give their time as a community
service, the building is furnished free,
and the only expense incurred comes
from soloists brought from out of
town and for the orchestra. It has
been the ambition of the Recreation
Department to develop a Community
Orchestra that will eventually be able
to do justice to such a rendition.
CHARLOTTE STEWART,
Supervisor of Recreation.
Short Course Nearly Full at Agricul-
tural College.
There are only a score of vacancies
left in the enrollment allotment of
the eight week’s course in agriculture
to be conducted by The Pennsylvania
State College beginning January 4th.
Applications have been coming in at
the office of Dean R. L. Watts at the
rate of from five to ten a day for the
past two weeks. Because of crowded
conditions at the college a class of
not more than 150 men and women
can be accommodated. All courses
are filled with the exception of those
|in horticulture and general farming.
Dairy manufacture is the most popu-
lar course and is already filled.
{ ——Subseribe for the “Watchman.”