Democratic watchman. (Bellefonte, Pa.) 1855-1940, August 04, 1922, Image 2

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    Bellefonte, Pa., August 4, 1922,
He was going to be all that a mortal
should be—Tomorrow.
No one should be kinder or braver than
A friend who was troubled and weary he
Who'd be glad of a lift and who needed
it, too;
On him he called to see what he could do
Each morning he stacked up the letters
Le’d write—Tomorrow.
And thought of the folks he would fill with
It was too bad, indeed, he was busy to-
And he hadn't a minute to stop on his
More time he would have to give others,
he’d say—Tomorrow.
The greatest of workers this man would
have been—Tomorrow.
The world would have known him, had he
ever seen—Tomorrow.
But the fact is he died and he faded from
And all he left when living was through
Was a mountain of things he intended to
do—Tomorrow. —Q@Grit.
(Concluded from last week).
“But Timmy lad, you’d run circles
around her. You might run with a
low head and a dead tail—though
your head is high and your tail is none
so low as it was in the Derby, when
you were a wee puppy and nervous
and frightened—but you’d make the
judges notice you, Timmy. You'd
show them dash and range and speed
and style and brains; steady to flush,
steady to shot, steady to command, no
false pointing, no roading birds to a
flush if you could heip it, picking up
singles on ground the other dog
thought he had covered, marking
where the flushed coveys settle and
picking them up again. Ah, Timmy
dog, it’s breaking my heart to hide
your light under a bushel basket. I
owe it to you to let men that
know and can appreciate a good
dog see you work. Of the hun-
dreds of dogs I'vc owned, of
the thousand I've trained since boy-
hood, you are the king of them all.
God help me, Timmy, I gave Martha
my word I'd never attend another field
trial or handle another dog in one,
either for myself or another. We're:
licked, Timmy. Licked to a frazzle.”
Tiny Tim leaned a little closer and
licked the palm of Dan’s hand. He
was an understanding little dog. Even
when Dan finally heaved slowly to his
feet and started down the hillside to-
ward home, Tiny Tim followed at his
heels, forbearing to follow his natural
instinct, which was to frisk ahead of
Dan far and wide and attend to the
business for which he had really been
Arrived at the house Dan’s sheepish
glance encountered the searching one
of his wife.
“Where have you been, Dan?” she
“Oh, takin’
She sat down beside
porch and put her arm
“It’s hard to think that a dog like
Timmy shouldn’t have his chance,
Martha. Why not make an exception
to our agreement in this one case?
I'm sure I could win the All Age
Stake with him. The entrance fee is
twenty-five dollars and there’ll be up-
wards of forty dogs entered. That’ll
be a thousand dollar purse, divided
five hundred, three fifty and a hun-
dred and fifty. Might win first prize
and be able to pay the mortgage.
Somehow I got a notion the bank
won’t renew the loan.”
Martha's eyes were as wistful as
ker husband's but hers was a far more
resolute nature. She kept her bar-
gains and expected others to keep
theirs; she knew the weakness of Dan
Pelly. If he should go down to the
field trials and enter Tiny Tim, he
would meet old friends and old cus-
tomers. It was four years since he
had quit the game—long enough for
men to forget those distemper germs
and take another chance on Dan, for
Dan’s fame as a trainer was almost
national. Somebody would be certain
to ask him to train a field Derby or
Futurity prospect for next fall, or to
handle a string of dogs in the Manito-
ba chicken trials.
And Dan was weak. He was one of
those men who could never quite say
no as if he meant it. Let him go
down to dogdom and he would be back
into the game again as deep as ever
within a year. Decidedly (thought
Martha) they couldn’t afford to go
over that ground again.
“Yes,” Dan sighed, “it’s a pity Tim-
my can’t have his chance. He never
was a kennel raised dog. He's been
allowed to rove and roam and he’s
hunted so much on his own I don’t re-
ally understand why he hasn’t been
spoiled. But the exercise and exper-
ience he’s had in one year exceed that
of most dogs in a lifetime. He's little,
but he’s well muscled and tough and
can hold his speed long after other
dogs have slowed up. I wish he could
have his chance, Martha.”
Martha felt herself slipping, so, to
. avoid that catastrophe, she left Dan
and entered the house.
All day long Dan sat on the porch,
glooming and grieving. Having the
field trials held practically at his own
door was a sore temptation. Dan
dwelt on Gethsemane. All day he suf-
fered until finally, being human, he
was tempted beyond his strength and
fell. About four o’clock, while Mar-
that was busy feeding the chickens,
locking them up and gathering eggs,
Dan Pelly sneaked into the house,
donned his Sunday suit, abstracted
the sum of fifty dollars from Martha’s
cache in the tomato can back of the
Jars of preserves on the back porch,
cranked his prehistoric automobile
and with Tiny Tim on the seat behind
him fled to the fleshpots. He left a
a little walk,” he re-
him on the
around his
“Hard to be out of it, isn’t it,
note on the dining room table for
Dear Martha: Can’t stand it
any longer. Timmy must have
his chance. It’s for his sake,
dear. I've robbed you of your egg
money, but I know you'll have it
back tomorrow.
Your loving Dan.
Dan Pelly felt like a criminal as he
cougned down the dusty country lane.
But if he could only have seen Mar-
tha’s face as she read his note! She
laughed at first and then her eyes
grew moist. “Poor old Dan,” she
murmured to the cat, “I'm so glad he
defied me. It proves he’s a human be-
ing. I'm so grateful to him for his
weakness. He didn’t force me to a
Arrived in town Dan Pelly parked
his car at the village square, went to
the local hotel and engaged a room.
He registered “Dan Pelly and his dog,
Tiny Tim.” Before he could go up to
his room he was seen and recognized
by the secretary of the field trial club,
Major Christensen.
“Hello, Dan, you old fossil. When
did they dig you up?” the Major sa-
luted him affably. “Back in the game
again?” :
“Qh, no,” Dan replied. “Just blew
in to look ’em over. Got a son of old
Keepsake and Kenwood Boy here.
Thought I'd start him in fast compa-
ny and see if he has any class. He's
just a plug shooting dog.”
“Well,” the Major answered, look-
ing Tim over with a critical and dis-
approving glance, “it’ll cost you twen-
ty five dollars to glean that informa-
tion, Dan.” He took out an entry
blank; Dan filled it out and returned
it together with the entrance fee.
Next he visited the hotel kitchen,
where he did business with the chef
and procured for Tiny Tim a hearty
ration of lamb stew with vegetables,
after which he took the little dog up
to his room. Tim sprang into bed im-
mediately, curied up and went to
That night Dan attended the ban-
quet. Old friends were there, fellow
trainers, trainers he had never met
before, with dogs from Canada to the
Gulf, from Maine to California. It
was an exceedingly doggy party and
poor old starved Dan reveled in it. He
was living again, and under the stim-
ulus of the unusual excitement and a
couple of snips of contraband Scotch
whiskey he made the speech of his ca-
reer, ripped the Fish and Game Com-
mission up the back and ended by
going up stairs and bringing Tiny
Tim down in his arms to exhibit him
to those around the festal board as
the only real dog he had ever owned.
“He’ll win every heat in which he’s
entered,” Dan bragged, “and he’ll
win in the finals. He looks like a
mutt, but oh boy, watch his smoke!”
When the drawings for the next
day’s events took place, Dan discov-
ered that Tiny Tim had been paired
with a famous old pointer from Neva-
da, known as Colonel Dorsey. Dan
knew there were better dogs than Col-
onel Dorsey, but they werent very
plentiful, and under the able hand-
ling of .a veteran trainer, Alf Wilkes,
Dah knew Tiny Tim would have to ex-
tend himself to center the attention of
the judges on his performance. To
have Tim paired with Colonel Dorsey
pleased Dan greatly, however, for if
Tim merely succeeded in running a
dead heat with the Colonel, that
meant that Tim and the Colonel would
fight it out together in the finals; for
Colonel Dorsey was, in the opinion of
all present, the class of the entries;
he was in excellent form and condi-
tion and as full of ginger and go as
a runaway horse.
A gentleman who had arrived too
late for the banquet came shouldering
his way through the crowd in the ho-
tel lobby just after the drawing. Dan
recognized in him the gentleman who
had offered him a thousand dollars for
Tiny Tim that day in the patch of cov-
er by the side of the road. He came
smiling up to Dan Pelly and shook his
hand heartily.
“I'm the owner of Colonel Dorsey,”
he announced. “It’ll be a barrel of
fun to run my dog against Tiny Tim.
A sporting dog owned and handled by
a sportsman. Mr. Pelly, we're going
to have a race.”
“I hope so, sir,” said Dan simply.
“I want Timmy to have a foeman
worthy of his steel, as the feller
“He will,” the other promised.
He did. They were put down in a
wide flat with a little watercourse
running through the center of it. The
cover was low, stunted sage, affording
excellent cover for the birds and op-
portunities for them to sneak away
from a dog without being seen, for
there was much open space between
the sage bushes. They were away to-
gether, headed for the watercourse,
Colonel Dorsey in the lead.
Suddenly Tiny Tim stopped dead
and commenced to road at right an-
gles, coming up into the wind. The
Colonel pressed eagerly on and flush-
ed, but was steady to flush. So was
Tiny Tim. A moment later the Col-
onel pointed and Tiny Tim, standing
in the open, honored the Colonel’s
point beautifully, but broke point
after a minute of waiting and scout-
ed off ‘on a wide cast. The Colonel
held his point and his handler, coming
up, attempted to flush. The point
was barren. Undoubtedly the bird
had been there but had run out.
The Colonel’s owner, who had been
following the judges in a buckboard
with Dan Pelly in the seat beside him,
looked at his guest. “I own a colonel,
but you own a general, Mr. Pelly.
Your dog is handling his birds better
than mine.”
“Point!” came a hoarse shout from
the direction in which Tim had gone.
He had come back on his cast and
was down in the watercourse on point.
Dan Pelly got out of the buckboard
and flushed a double, at the same time
firing over the birds. Tim was abso-
lutely staunch to shot and flush. He
looked diappointed because no dead
bird rewarded his efforts, but imme-
diately pressed on up the gully. Dan
Pelly thrilled. He knew the birds
would lie close in this cover and that
Tim would run up a heavy score. He
did. Point after point he scored and
always a single was flushed. When
he had made nineteen points on single
birds the whistle blew and the dogs
were taken up.
| Colonel Dorsey ranging wide, had
{ shown speed, style and dash but had
found no birds. Tim had made but
one cast but it was sufficient to show
that he, too, had speed and range, al-
about. But he had performed the
function for which bird dogs are bred.
He had found game and handled it in
a masterly manner. The dogs were
down forty minutes and both were
fresh when taken up. The judges
awarded the heat to Tiny Tim.
Colonel Dorsey’s owner slapped old
Dan Pelly on the back. “I came a
long way for a splendid thrashing,” he
admitted gallantly. “However, the
Colonel was out of luck. He got off
into barren territory and rather wast-
ed his time. We'll meet again in the
And it was even so. Three days
later Tiny Tim again faced the Col-
onel, who in the succeeding heats had
given marvelous performances and
disposed of his antagonists in a most
decisive manner. But likewise so had
Tiny Tim.
It was a battle from start to finish.
Both dogs got on birdy ground at once
and worked it thoroughly, and at the
finish there was little to choose be-
tween them. Tim had two more points
to his credits and no flushes; the Col-
onel had one flush, due to eagerness
at the start, and he had failed to hon-
or one of Tim's points. These errors
appeared to offset Tim’s lack of style,
but the latter’s marvelous bird work
could not be gainsaid; and remember-
ing the decisive manner in which the
little setter had disposed of the Col-
onel in the initial heat, the judges
awarded the All Age Stake, which
carried with it the Pacific Coast
championship, to Tiny Tim and Dan
Pelly retired to the hotel richer hy
five hundred dollars and a silver lov-
ing cup. That afternoon he paid two
hundred and fifty dollars on the mort-
gage and had it renewed for another
year. Then he wrote a letter to Mar-
tha, bought a neat crate for Tiny Tim
and—started down the field trial cir-
In some ways—notably dog ways—
Dan Pelly was a weak vessel. He
lacked the moral courage to come
home and be good forever after. Tim-
my was so much better in big compa-
ny than he had anticipated that should
it mean death to both of them, Dzn
Pelly simply had to try him out in
Oregon on pheasant. Poor Timmy
had never seen a pheasant, and it was
such a shame to deny him this great
So the next Martha heard of Dan
was a wire to the effect that Timmy
had taken second. place in the trials
on pheasant at Lebanon, Oregon. A
week later came another telegram, in-
forming her that Timmy had taken
first money in the Washington field
trials, handling Hungarian partridge
for the first time. A letter followed
and Martha read:
Dear wife: I don’t suppose you
will ever believe me again now
that I have broke my word to
you and run away. I don’t seem
to be able to help myself. Tim-
my is wonderful. I've got to go
on to try him on chicken in Man-
itoba ana then International and
the All America. I enclose $500.
With love from Timmy and
Your devoted husband,
Timmy was third on prairie chick-
en. Everybody said his performance
was marvelous in view of his total ig-
norance of this splendid game, so Dan
Pelly did not think it worth while to
advertise the fact that he had intro-
duced Timmy to two crippled chickens
the day before in order that he might
know their scent when he ran on to it.
The International in Montana was
won by Timmy, and Dan’s cup of hap-
piness overflowed when the judges
handed him his trophies and a check
for a thousand dollars. Colonel Dor-
sey gave him a stiff run but the best
the Colonel could do was second place.
And then came the never to be for-
gotten day down in Kentucky when
Timmy went in on bobwhite quail for
the Western Hemisphere. Timmy
was at home again on quail. He had
some bad luck before he learned dbout
bobwhite’s peculiarities, but he had
enough wints to put him in the finals,
and at the finish he was cast off with
a little Llewellyn bitch whose perfor-
mance made Dan Pelly’s heart skip a
beat or two. Nothing except Timmy’s
age and years of experience enabled
him to win over her; up until the last
moments of the race predictions were
freely made that it would be a dead
But just before the whistle blew,
Timmy roaded a small cover to a
staunch point—the sole find made dur-
ing the heat—and Dan Pelly went
home with Timmy and more money
than he had ever seen before in his
life except in a bank; although better
to wistful little Dan was the knowl-
edge that he had bred, raised, train-
ed and handled the most consistent
winner and the most spectacularly
outstanding bird dog champion in
North America. Old Keepsake and
her wonderful consort, Kenwood Boy,
| had transmitted their great qualities
to their son, and Dan knew, in view cf
Tiny Tim’s great record over the field
trial circuit, how much in demand
would be the puppies from that strain.
Please God, Timmy might live long
enough to perpetuate his great quali-
ties in his offspring.
Dan’s return was not a triumphal
one. He felt like anything except a
conquering hero. Indeed, he felt mean
and low and untrustworthy; he had to
call on a reserve store of courage in
order to face Martha and explain his
dastardly conduct in appropriating
her fifty dollars, breaking his prom-
ise and running away with Timmy.
Martha was sitting on the porch in
her rocking chair as Dan and his dog
came up the lane. Tiny Tim romped
ahead and sprang up in Martha’s lap
and kissed her and whimpered his joy
at the homecoming—so Martha had
ample opportunity to brace herself to
meet the culprit.
“Hello, Martha, old girl,” Dan cried
with a cheerfulness he was far from
feeling. “Timmy and I are home
again. Are you going to forgive me,
Martha ?”
Martha looked so glum and serious
that Dan’s heart sank.
“Oh, Martha!” he quavered and
came slowly up the steps and tossed
beit his style was nothing to brag
into her lap a huge roll of banknotes.
“I know I done wrong, Martha,” he
declaimed. “I’ve been gamblin’ on the
side—you_ know, honey—side bets on
Timmy. I’m afraid we're never going
to be real poor again. We've got the
mortgage paid oft and three thousand
in reserve, and I'm going to sell Tim-
my for seven thousand five hundred
dollars, with a half interest in his sire !
fees for three years——"
Martha stood up, her eyes ablaze
with scorn and anger.
“Dan Pelly,”
“how dare you?”
Dan hung his head.
“Oh, Martha,” he pleaded, “can’t
you realize how terrible it is to keep
a good dog down?”
“Who offered to buy Timy?”
“Mr. Fletcher, the owner of Colonel
Dorsey.” .
“Tell him to go chase himself,”
Martha suggested slangily. “If you
expect to make your peace with me,
Dan Pelly, you’ll give up all idea of |
selling Timmy.”
“But Martha—seven thousand five
hundred dollars! Think what
means te you.
our old age,
everything settled fine
and dandy at last after twenty-five
years of hard luck.”
“Do you really want to sell Tim- |
my, Dan?”
“No, Martha,
my heart.
your sake.”
“Dan, come here.”
Dan came and flopped awkwardly
on his old knees while Martha’s arms
went around him.
“Sweet old Dan,”
“What a glorious
have had. I’ve been so happy just re-
alizing how happy you have been.
“Yes, Martha,”
“Perhaps we can get back into the
dog business again. Don’t you think
you’d like to buy about half a dozen
really fine brood bitches? Timmy’s
puppies would be spoken for before
they were born.
get would be a hundred dollars each
for them.” She stroked his old head.
“I’m afraid, Dan, it’s too late to re-
form you. Once a dog man, always a
dog man »
What else she intended to say re-
mained forever unsaid, for little,
weak, foolish, sentimental old Dan
commenced to sniffle, as he had the
night old Keepsake was poisoned.
I don’t. It’d break
she whispered.
He wasn’t a worldly man or a very |
ambitious man; he craved but little ;
here below, but one of the things he
craved was clean sportsmanship and
love and understanding and a small,
neat, field type English setter that
would be just a little bit better than
the other fellow’s. And tonight he
was so filled with happiness he just
naturally overflowed. Tiny Tim, ob-
serving that something was wrong,
came and leaned his shoulder against
Martha’s knee and laid his muzzle in
her hand and rested it there.
It was a big moment!—By Peter B.
Kyne, in The Cosmopolitan.
Information for Sportsmen—1922
Hunters’ Licenses Necessary.
As a matter of information, atten-
tion is called to the fact that the sea-
son on birds commonly known as
blackbirds opened August 1st and
will run continuously until November
30th, Sundays excepted. In 1921 it
was not possible to secure the hunt-
ers’ licenses before the opening of the
blackbird season, but every county in
she flared at him, |
No more worry about .
Bu-bu-but—I'll do it for
holiday you two |
The least we could
She sewed a button on my coat,
For I was far from mother.
“Pig such a thing,’ she said to me,
“As I'd do for my brother.”
: She looked so pretty sitting there,
I quickly stopped and kissed her,
“Tis such a thing,” I said to her,
“As I'd do to my sister.”
—Olive Balfour, in Smart Set.
You have doubtless noticed that
, every other frock you meet is collar-
{less. And with rather an unusual sort
of neckline, too, as though
started out to be the popular bateau,
| but not finding this quite low enough
at the front either for becomingness
i or the hot weather, had continued on
past the Flarentine and stopped just
| short of the 1830. >
Women with scrawny necks, who
| have no business to think of anything
i of the sort, have adopted its perfect
‘ freedom with the utmost serenity, and
their more fortunate sisters order its
graceful charm on even their tail
The ease with which it is accom-
plished has gone far toward gaining
'its rapid rise to popularity. In any
number of the softer materials one
simply joins the shoulder seams,
' shapes the sleeves to fall where they
i will and either binds the upper edges
for the neck or finishes them with any
one of the smart braids or ribbons
t which are sold for this very purpose.
Children will sleep if the room is
darkened. The nervous system is
more completely relaxed, sleep more
sound and restful in a dark room.
Children are so sensitive to all im-
pressions that eyes and brain need the
complete rest which darkness affords.
The habit of sleeping in a dark room
is easily acquired if children are train-
ed from birth to go to bed in a dark
room, and later, as they reach the age
| of understanding, they may be taught
| that the darkness of night as well as
| the light of day has a beneficent pur-
' pose.
It is always best from earliest in-
fancy for a child to sleep in a sepa-
| rate bed, and if possible in an adjoin-
‘ing room from the parents. There are
: sound reasons for such training; chil-
. dren will sleep better more quietly.
{ No reformers are after the chil-
dren. Happy and lucky are they.
| They can wear their Skirts as if they
| were skirts, and no one rises up to
i preach against them.
| The world recognizes that extreme
| youth must have its fling. It may
, fight the flapper, but it doesn’t fight
| the infant.
i the matter of hygiene, without limita-
tions in cut and color of clothes, babes |
may riot through life from nursery to |
' school-room.
Once upon a time there were limita-
tions thrown about their tiny gar-
ments. Over the world went a wave
of reform, which bore on its crest
mothers, rich and poor, good and bad,
(young and old. The exclusive atten-
| tion of the health specialists appear- |
ied to be directed toward children’s
. _ White was the color to be worn.
Pastel shades in the block design were
‘the alternatives. Anything with wool
jor silk was taboo. Velvet and fur
| were used for coverings. Socks and
| sandals covered the feet. Legs were
it had |
Without reform except in |
lt ee ——————————————— — —_—_—_— —_—_—_—_——
From State Health Department.
| With 207 cases of typhoid fever in
June, 1922, as against 165 in the same
month of 1921, and 164 in 1920, spe-
cial effort should be made for early
diagnosis of this disease and for the
location of the source of infection.
The commonest source of infection is
drinking water.
In Mount Lebanon, Allegheny coun-
ty, a spring used for drinking purpos-
es more than 60 years, according to
old residents, was purchased by a
| business man because of its abundant
flow of pure water. Shortly there-
after his two daughters fell ill, but he
refused to accept a diagnosis of ty-
phoid fever, insisting they had pneu-
monia. The attending physician, his
daughter, and two other children be-
came ill and laboratory tests proved
' typhoid fever.
The spring water was tested and
found to contain sewage germs. The
owner was requested to close the
spring for public use. This he did,
placing a padlock on the spring-house
i door, but continued using the water
{ himself, claiming that since it had
| been used for sixty years it was good
enough for him. He joined the vic-
i tims of typhoid developing a most se-
I vere case made worse by intestinal
| hemorrhages.
i Dr. J. Moore Campbell, of the State
i Health Department, said the immedi-
{ ate closing of this spring prevented a
| wide-spread epidemic, but that such a
| measure is only possible when the
| physician recognizes early that he is
‘dealing with typhoid fever, thus mak-
ing possible prompt location of the
source from which the infection
comes. “Many epidemics of typhoid
could have been prevented had the
first cases been promptly diagnosed,”
i he continued. “Early diagnosis makes
(early search for the cause possible
| and the sooner it is located and elim-
| inated the fewer people will be expos-
led to it.
“Any case of continued fever with-
‘out evident cause chould be looked up-
on as a probable case of typhoid fe-
ver, and the physician should employ
every means for reaching quickly a
definite conclusion. There are three
laboratory tests which help him to de-
cide. A blood culture is the most de-
| sirable one because it gives the ear-
liest information. Nine times out of
ten the typhoid germs can be found in
the blood during the first week of ill-
ness. In the stool they cannot be
found with any certainty until the sec-
ond or third week, and the Widal test
is not positive until the 10th day of
fever or later. Since during the first
week, the patient presents no symp-
toms exclusively pertaining to ty-
- phoid fever, blood culture is the only
| means of diagnosing without delay.”
Dr. Edward Martin, State Health
: Commissioner, is urging blood culture
las a means of early diagnosis in ty-
: phoid fever, and at the recent instruc-
(tion camp at Mont Alto the county
! medical directors of the State were
i drilled in blood culture technique, not
| only that they may take these speci-
| mens themselves but that they may be
{able to instruct physicians in their
| county who may apply for their as-
: sistance.
| When the blood is taken and sent to
I the state laboratory, prompt examin-
{ation and report will be made.
| Tubes for taking the blood can be
{had by applying to the Division of
the State has received its 1922 quota ! bare after centuries of being covered. i Supplies, State Department of Health,
of hunters’ licenses and all persons
must secure hunters’ licenses before
hunting for blackbirds, except on
: Rompers were substituted for slips.
! Minute attention by powerful people
; was paid to hooks and eyes, to but-
lands on which they reside and culti- | tons and buttonholes, most of which
vate as either the owner or lessee, or | were eliminated in favor of strings.
as a member of the family of such
ownar or lessee, also residing upon
: pants lived by rote and rule.
end cultivating lands, or on lands im- |
Thus in those days nursery occu-
Even a
kiss, unless guaranteed as sanitary,
mediately adjacent upon securing per- | was not given or received.
mission from adjacent owners. The
hunters’ license law will be enforced
| Women thought this type of dress-
ing which the reformers had outlined
| was settled for this generation and
The law relative to training -dogs those to come. Human nature has
does not permit training until Sep- (such a delightful trick of believing
tember 1st. On and after that date it
is legal to train dogs on any game ex-
cept deer, elk, and wild turkeys until
the 1st of March next following, Sun-
days excepted, so long as firearms
usually raised at arms length and
fired from the shoulder are not car-
ried while so training and no injury
is done to the game pursued. The
penalty for permitting dogs to chase
game prior to September 1st is $10.00
for each day and $5.00 for each bird
or rabbit killed.
The sportsmen throughout the State
took a deeper interest in caring for
their dogs this year during the breed-
ing season than ever before. This is
very encouraging, and we are confi-
dent that thousands of rabbits, game
birds, and song and insectiverous
birds have been saved from destruc-
tion because of this interest taken by
dog owners. Help conserve wild life;
it is yours.
Secretary Game Commission.
Punished at Last.
When the late General Horace Por-
ter was manager of the Pullman com-
pany an army officer wrote him say-
ing that the Pullman car that had car-
ried him from Jersey City to Long
Branch had not been properly swept
and dusted.
General Porter waste-basketed the
letter also the second, the third and
the fourth. But the fifth was so vio-
lent that General Porter dictated the
following reply.
“Sir:—We have run the train off
the track, burned the cars, shot the
conductor, hanged the porter and dis-
continued the line. Hoping that this
will be satisfactory, I remain, ete.”
Had a Good Reason.
Thomas Fiddle was a very learned
young man. At school he shone like
all the stars and planets lumped to-
gether. A sixty candlepower lamp
wasn’t in it beside the burning flame
of his genius.
But his friends were frightfully dis-
appointed when he refused to accept
the degree of doctor of divinity. One
of them tackled him on the subject.
“Oh, well,” replied the genius, “it’s
bad enough to be named Fiddle with-
out being Fiddle, D. D.”
that the creed of the moment is eter-
nal. They forget that all creeds are
like weather-vanes. Witness the
change in children’s clothes in the last
five years.
France constantly makes juvenile
changes. Paris is responsible for
many revolutions in children’s clothes.
She starts an idea. We develop it.
Yet Paris never worshipped at the al-
tar of hygiene as American mothers
have in the last two decades.
The wash frock was not considered
essential in France. Over here it is;
but France has insisted upon a degree
of nakedness for youngsters that
America found impossible to indorse.
Even now we de not accept the amus-
ing and extraordinary brevity of the
French child’s garments. It is a pity
we do not. There is no reason against
it, not even that of modesty. The lest
two years have brought shortened
hems and wider back openings—bhoth
here and in France.
What France has done recently to
American children is to reinstate
frocks of fabrics that do not go to the
tub. Taffeta, crepe de chene, velvet
are some of the accepted weaves that
go to the making of the clothes so ab-
breviated that they provoke laughter.
In these clothes the French child
presents a comical appearance. One
feels it is done with a purpose, that
the peculiar humor which pervades
French life likes to turn its infants in-
to something amusing, something to
cause a happy smile, a desire to pick
up the bunch of roguish femininity
and kiss it.
French children must know that
they present this appearance, for they
have a roguish expression in their
faces. Our children give the same ef-
fect when they wear pink and white
checked rompers, their fat little feet
in white sandals, their cropped hair on
end. Illustrators of children catch
this idea of mischief and roguishness;
this beguiling clown-like effort to look
irresponsible. It’s the way for an in-
fant to look. a
The French tilt their tiny frocks
upward in the front, a trick which
gives a certain bravado in itself. They
do not allow the hems to touch the
knees; they flitter about the legs half-
way between hip and knee. The socks
are naught but tiny wrinkles of fine
fabric about the ankles. Half of the
time there are no socks.
$700 a Year Cost of Education at
Penn State.
The average cost of acquiring an
education at The Pennsylvania State
College is $700 a year, according to an
announcement made on the basis of
the amount reported as spent in the
past four years by 120 representative
students. The lowest amount spent
by any student was $300, an amount
reported by two students. The high-
est amount reported was $1200, a re-
turn filed by one student. Since the
college makes no tuition charge to
residents of Pennsylvania, the ex-
penses are for board, room, books, and
general living.
Result of an Examination.
Pat had been hurt. It wasn’t much
more than a scratch, but his employ-
er, with visions of being obliged to
keep him for the rest of his life, sent
him to a hospital for examination.
The house surgeon looked him over
and then pronounced:
“As subcutaneous abrasion is not
observable, I do not think there is any
reason to apprehend tegumental cica-
trization of the wound.”
“Ah,” said Pat in relief, “ye took
the very words out of my mouth.”
Keep the Kidneys Well
Health is Worth Saving, and Some
Bellefonte People Know How to
Save It.
Many Bellefonte people take their
lives in their hands by neglecting the
kidneys when they know these organs
need help. Weak kidneys are respon-
sible for a vast amount of suffering
and ill health—the slightest delay is
dangerous. Use Doan’s Kidney Pills
—a remedy that has helped thousands
of kidney sufferers. Here is a Belle-
fonte citizen's recommendation:
Mrs. H. W. Raymond. Reynolds
Ave., says: “About a year ago my
kidneys began to weaken and I had a
dull aching and soreness across my
kidneys. I could hardly sweep the
floor. I tired easily and had nervous
headaches. My kidneys acted too oft-
en and annoyed me a great deal. I
read of Doan’s Kidney Pills and got
them at Runkle’s drug store. They
were the right remedy and after I had
used two boxes I was relieved of the
backaches and my kidneys were in
good order.”
Price 60c, at all dealers. Don’t sim-
ply ask for a kidney remedy—get
Doan’s Kidney Pills—the same that
Mrs. Raymond had. Foster-Milburn
Co., Mfrs., Buffalo, N .Y. 67-30