=
Bellefonte, Pa., June 20, 1924.
—————————
THE PATHWAY OF LIFE.
You say that your life is a failure,
Your future holds naught that is sweet,
That the troublesome years bring little but
tears,
And always, always defeat.
Mistakes—ay, sins you call them—
May cover your past like a pall,
But the soul that is strong to outlive it’s
wrong, ?
Is the bravest soul of all.
You long to go forth in the battle,
But your feet are fettered quite;
Remember, who serve in the corps of re-
serve
May be able as those who fight.
You chaff to enter the races,
For pleasure and gold and fame;
Yet many who win ‘mid plaudits din
Find the prize but an empty name.
The toil that is yours seems fruitless,
Your days are dreary and long;
But the lowliest duty may glow with beau-
ty
When wrought with a cheerful song.
The worlds’ best sweets are denied you,
You have tasted earth’s cup of woe;
But who suffers to give that others may
live
Has the noblest life, I trow.
O let us, my friend, do bravely
The work that to us is given,
And smile in belief that what causes us
grief ,
May keep us the closer to heaven.
The pathways we traverse are many,
And some by the berren.st strand;
But with visions grown wide we shall won-
der we sighed,
For they led to the Beautiful Land.
—Emma C. Down.
ee
——
rvous, radiant child, certain of member that I rather envied her.”
a i Her eyes glowed. you, Har-
“Harley Lane, I'm twenty-seven ley, oh, thank you!
years old, almost twenty-eight, and: “For what?” he asked, smiling a
never since I was eighteen have I had little. “For nearly getting weepy in
a dollar I didn’t i never have | church over a girl's voice, like some
I earned one dollar by work I wanted timental Dago?”
to do! Back there in Virginia, after | “For telling me, she said.
Dad died, I taught five years in a dull,! “Oh, well, of course, Id tell you,
respectable private school. They paid sooner or later. You are one of those
me twenty a month, and my board, women who draw things from a man,
that was all. Seven hours a day in whether he wants to tell or no 2
the schoolrooms, two hours every! “Do I?” she said dreamily. Well,
night supervising study hour, every then tell me some more.
other afternoon walks with the ‘young He met her gaze and suddenly flush-
ladies, some of them older than I! ed to his forehead, an agonized, pain-
Oh, Harley, it was the dullest, drab- | ful blush which filled him with a
best, dreariest life, with never your sense of shame.
soul really your own! But I saved, | slowly.
even on the twenty; I used to sit up then Lynette was also on her feet,
nights to make my own dresses, and trembling like some startled bird with
then one vacation I plunged reckless- fluttered wings, ready for instant
ly and put some Toney thal had blen flight.
iven me into studying stenography.
1 I took six ee lessons be- | she cried, and then made for the door.
nCel ‘Harley, that first teacher told | Lane followed more deliberately,
me that some day I would sing in: hat in hand. ‘We'll go to Allard’s
grand opera—if I could spare three | and get some dinner. It’s long after
or four years and about two thousand seven—too late for you to get any-
dollars to study in Germany! I kept thing at your own boarding place.
on with the stenography, but I stop-' They walked the block and a half
ped the singing lessons then and without a word further. At the res-
there! They were too much like mock- taurant they found a vacant table
ery. Later on I resigned my teaching near the center of the long brown
and came to New York in search of a room, a room which subtly reminded
position as a stenographer—and that one of a huge, mellowed meerschaum.
first month was thrilling, not knowing At the far end an orchestra played
whether my money would hold out, popular airs with astonishing swing
whether I could make good. But I and fire.
did. This last year I’ve had twenty a
week, which meant putting something
in the bank every month. I calculat-
ed that at the rate I was earning and
saving I could afford two years in
Germany—by the time I was forty!"
And now, Harley Lane, I have ten
thousand dollars and I'm only twen-
A wavering breeze from open win-
dows fanned Lynette’s hot face. Har-
ley ordered their dinner, and a tran-
quil, pleasant old waiter served them.
“J ‘was a boor, Lynette. And I'd
better explain. Kind-hearted girls
‘are apt to exaggerate these things,
ty-seven!” | and I don’t want you crying over my
Harley got up slowly, crossed the forlornness when you're off in your
room and patted his visitor on the NEW world’ . «
back in solemn, fatherly fashion. | The girl's head lifted proudly. “If
“Fine, strong, spunky little per- YOU think me a self-conscious, cocky
son!” he said. “Have some tea, do, little idiot—" she began.
He rose to his feet
“No!” he said harshly, and-
“Qh, Harley, I beg your pardon!”
And, Lynette, you'll arrive, you'll!
turn the trick, you'll have ’em all won-
dering and erying—the people out in
THE POT OF GOLD.
Harley smiled. “I think nothing so
uncomplimentary, but since I muddled
things we’d better clear the atmos-
How Shall a Girl Choose When It’s a
Question of Hearts and Careers?
She came out at last into the late
June sunshine of lower Broadway
without having shared her secret with
any one in the office. She informed
the giant skeleton of the Equitable
Building, with a small, prancing bow,
that she was glad of this, glad that
thus far no mortal knew the delight-
ful, incredible upward turn in her
prosaic and lowly path.
As usual, she took the subway; but
instead of continuing up town she got
off at Eighteenth Street and walked
rapidly eastward toward Stuyvesant
Square. In front of a remodeled
brownstone building she stopped ab-
ruptly, paused in a dim hall to ring a
bell, and then plunged up three long |
flights of stairs at breakneck speed. |
At a big white door he was waiting !
for her, a square-shouldered, square- |
chinned, blue-eyed young man, not
handsome at all, but wholesome-look-
ing, competent.
“Lynette! And do you know I had !
a hunch it was you! What a face! |
Has Schumann-Heink adopted you and
insured your future, or did you find *
the pot of gold at the end of the rain-
bow? There was one this morning, I!
know. I was half tempted to follow
it over to Long Island and see wheth-'
er there was anything in the old
myth.”
His visitor entered the studio with-
out answering and dropped rather
breathlessly into a long, low chair,
near the model platform. The big
young man stood and looked at her; |
but Lynette looked at his latest |
achievement, an oil sketch of a sky-!
scraper towering above a ramshack- |
le old building on a down-town street |
corner. |
One saw the huge bulk of the man-
made cliff looming up into the void.
Beside it was the tiny shop of a fruit- |
erer, with soft color and dim forms; !
one could almost smell the mingled |
odor of southern fruits and dusty
streets, almost hear the shrill voices |
of children playing on the pavement,
almost cringe in dread of the great,
white monster looming so perilously
into the blue.
“It's good, Hartley,” said the girl |
with a little sigh. “It makes me hate |
the crazy modern monster, and fear
them, and somehow love them, too, all |
in a breath. And I can see that dim,
white spot down there is a baby, an
Italian bambino, probably bow-legged, |
tottering along with the bigger chil-
dren. Harley, the thing is so good
that I almost think it must be great!” |
Lane looked at the canvas and for,
the moment his brows were knit, his ped
lips compressed. His expression was |
that of a man who passionately loves !
and believes in his own work, but the |
quirk of humor about his mouth indi- |
cated that he did not take his own per- |
formance, thus far, too seriously, that |
he was not obsessed with the solemn
egoism which afflicts so many of his,
brother craftsmen.
“But you haven't told me yet,” he |
objected, turning his back upon the
picture and regarding her with varied
emotions which he battled to sup-|
press.
“Told you what?”
“About the pot of gold, to be sure.
Only gold could make you so radi-
ant!”
_ “What a horrid, insulting, pessimis-
tic speech!” cried Hood and Riddle’s
stenographer, with a prim tilt to her
little dark head.
“Yet you aren’t shocked; you aren’t
insulted—so it’s true!” And the
young man of the square shoulders
looked so triumphant and at the same
time so absurdly curious that Lynette
laughed and confessed. She showed
him the letter, and the check which
represented a part of her fortune. He
read the letter deliberately, smoothed
the check .affectionately, then gave a
shake of his head, rather in the man-
ner of a mastiff. “It seems genuine,
Miss Honorable Heiress.”
“You are the first person I've told,”
said Lynette. “I'm rather glad of
that,” he said; then, with an extra ac-
cent and an apology, “and I'm glad
your luck has turned. You deserve
it, if ever mortal did.”
Inconsistently she began to cry;
then, as her host looked puzzled an
troubled, she laughed. At last she
sat up straight, talked things out, in
the impetuous manner of some excit-
phere. This noisy place is a suitable
scene for my confession—but remem-
ber, it is a confession, not a proposal.”
“] shall remember,” said Lynette
rather coldly.
“It was all just as it seemed,” said
the man deliberately, “or I thought it
front, beyond the footlights.”
Lynette saw it all: The stage, her
dream self—a gleaming, glittering,
magnetic figure. She heard the mu-
sic, the call of the Valkyrie, Brun-
hilde’s plea to Wotan. Again, she
was in a wintry forest, lost, cold, hun-
gry, half mad, singing with her hand
in the hand of a king’s son. She was
herself, too, as Butterfly, waiting
waiting for the faithless naval officer
all through one endless night, motion- |
less, tragic, with her eyes never wa-
vering from the broken panel of the
shoji. Yet again she was in an an-
cient castle, quivering with the pas-
sion of Debussy’s music, or a reckless
Louise, mad with the lure of spring-
time in Paris and aflame with youth.
There was no end to the picture,
with fortune and glory just beyond
the frame.
“Harley, I'm perfectly beside my-
self with joy. But, oh, Ill do it, I'll
work, work as nobody ever worked
before!”
Harley was making tea for her, and
he made it with the deftness of one
with craftsman hands.
“We'll pour it over ice. I have
plenty, and then well drink to Ly-
nette at the Metropolitan. Lynette,
prima donna!”
“Qh, I love melting lots of ice with
hot tea. It seems so wickedly extrav-
agant—just the way I'll feel when I
resign my job tomorrow.”
“Serve the unappreciative old pigs
right,” said Harley, disappearing for
a moment. Lynette heard the sound !
of the ice pick, then a delightful tin- |
kle in a glass pitcher. Presently she 2
was drinking from a tall glass. “Ah, | success will surely come. That’s all—
but it’s good. Fresh and fragrant and ‘and now you are to forget the futile
so cold it burns! Aren’t you going to | little tale. It’s quite unrelated to
have some?” | your life.”
Harley nodded, yet having served |
her, his enthusiasm seemed to have!
evaporated. He twirled the silver tea |
bell shrenfly by its cain and leaned |
ack in his chair, watchin r qui- |
etly. y Watching her qu | “If you cared,” said Harley quietly
“What did Walker say about the! Lynette’s flush answered for her. “I
competition, Harley?” : must go home,” she said; and Lane
“Said he thought I'd have a chance, Was on his feet, adjusting her cloak.
If I had the time to try.” : He had paid the waiter, but they paus-
| ed an instant for a last bar of music.
Lynette’s eyes sparkled. “If you Then there was clapping, people were
should compete—and win! Oh, Har- | moving about, and Harley and Lyn-
ley, if you could only give up illus- | ette were on their way to the up-town
trating and put in all of your time at subway. ;
mural work!” That last morning, more than a
“Qf course it’s what I hope to do, month later, Harley came for her in
ship between a shabby painter and a
pretty Southern girl. And then I
heard you sing that day—in the Cathe-
dral. Before you had seemed charm-
ing, rare—but I was the artist, I was
! the ambitious one, with talent, possi-
bilities! Lynette, that day I went
suddenly quite mad, with sheer jeal-
ousy. You were no longer the young
your dreams. And it came on me like
a bolt of lightning that our friend-
ship was a delusion! I wanted to own
you, to marry you, to tether you.
Poor and struggling myself, I wanted
you to be poor with me, to struggle
by my side—"
He stopped because the music had
stopped, but in a moment the chatter
in the room covered any subdued talk,
and he continued slowly:
“It was rather a shock, to discover
my rank egoism, my natural selfish-
ness; but I fought the thing out, made
myself see that you should be left
alone, by such men as I; that I had
nothing to give you of the opportuni-
ty you needed. Somehow I felt there
would come a way out for you. When
you showed me your letter today I
was hardly surprised—and Lynn, I
money must mean to you. And I
Lynette met his honest blue eyes.
She held out her hand.
“Thank you for telling me, Harley.
And it wouldn’t be unrelated if—"”
eventually,” said the artist very qui- a taxicab, and this astonishing extray-
etly. “More tea, Lynn?” agance would ordinarily have shock-
She let him fill her glass, but her ed Lynette, who was by nature a fru-
gay mood seemed to have passed. She | gal soul, but she was beyond caring
stared at the picture on the canvas; ' for ways and means that day.
it was so freshly painted, so free from | She was waiting nervously in the
little boarding house parlor while a
all mannerisms, insincerities, so steep-
in the atmosphere of the city, and | colored maid went over her room in
yet with an appeal to the imagination. | search of last things, which Lynette
like some virile poem. And Harley | was sure she must have forgotten.
himself was so tingling with vitality, | She was trying to pull herself togeth-
with promise, with his unspoken de- | er, to win back the tranquility of all
termination to win. If only she could | the dull and peaceful years, but for
share with him her windfall—yet she | weeks she had felt about her throat
did not dare to word her wish. Har- | and chest those strange bands which
ley’s pride more than matched her | excitement tightens almost to break-
own. Soon she would be getting his | ing point. She stared at Harley now
letters over there in Germany. She | with incredulous, happy eyes.
leaned toward him rather abruptly: “Am I really going, after all? Even
“Some ways it will be horrid, going ' now, I can’t believe it.” ;
so far away—from my friends. I| “You're going, all
hadn’t thought of that.” .|is Miriam with the relics.” For the
Why should you think of anything : maid entered, carrying a long blue
save the fact that your drudgery and | veil and a tooth brush.
poverty are of the past?” “Here's some things you'll need,
“And yet— I may fail Harley.” Miss Lynn, honey. And I done poke
You won’t fail, Lynn. You see, I into all the cracks and corners, but
heard you sing in the Cathedral that | this is all you ain’t packed, ’ceptin’ a
Sunday, though you didn’t tell me be- | shirtwaist you lef’ out on puppose,
forehand of your chance, little os- | and just one other little thing—which
trich!” oO I got in my pocket.”
Her face burned suddenly. ‘Did | Lynette made a startled little move-
you really? Oh, I'm glad—for I|ment. “Is it a photograph? Did I
wanted to ask you to come, and then | leave one on my bureau, after all?”
was afraid. Stage fright, you know.” | she said. Miriam showed her big,
He was studying her between nar- | white teeth and handed over a bit of
rowed lids, much as though she were | pasteboard, carefully inverted, which
posing for him on the model throne. | the traveler stuffed hurriedly into her
ynn liked the impersonality of his | blouse,
expression, of his calm drawl, as he| Harley watched this small trans-
went on deliberately: : action and the opening of the mag-
“Your voice is a queer jumble of | nificent new traveling bag, an unex:
characteristics, Lynn. It has notes | pected gift from the office. He had
like a: trampet, brave and full. And | the slight smile of the superior male
then it is like a bird in some still | viewing feminine eccentricities. In-
wood, thin and pure and high. And | cidentally Harley was quite willing
again it trembles, becomes personal, | that women should have the vote, but
moving, a love chant, a cradle song! I'he had been heard to remark that
It brought my heart into my throat | first the sex should demonstrate its
more than once, with a jump! And | fitness by demanding pockets.
a woman near me—she wasn’t young | . :
or pretty, but she had a lined, sweet, “Not one in your whole outfit, I'll
wager,” he said now to Lynette.
weary madonna face—put down her € %
head and cried as you sang. I re- “Two—in my raincoat and my new
was, a pleasant, well-balanced friend- |
stenographer; you, too, had a right to |
was glad, honestly glad, for all the
shall take pride in your success, for!
right—and here ; 30
”
’
whereupon the young man said some-
thing about men needing pockets even
when fully dressed and when the sun
! was shining! ?
Miriam was Weeping frankly; Lyn-
ette was popular with the servants,
! and even the elevator man at the of-
"fice had grieved openly at her depar-
ture. The manager of the boarding
"house, an ample person with several
i chins, shrewd eyes and a kind mouth,
! came now to say a regretful good-by
i to one of her star boarders, and Har-
ley with the precious traveling bag
bathrol she answered proudly;
|
i
and ran down the front steps. He and
the chauffeur expended some superflu-
ous energy stowing away the lady’s
i yarious belongings, from her steamer
' rug, several coats and hat boxes, to
the famous and really splendid silver-
mounted bag. :
At last they were off, sweeping
down-town at a pleasant speed. The
sun shone gloriously, yet without toc
much ferver for comfort; a breeze
blew Lynette’s adjusted veil; the
whole city radiated peace and charm
and the subtle thrill of summer ex-
actly as though July were as ideal as
the June of minor poets.
Lynette gave a succession of great
sighs, and looked affectionately at the
Park as they passed, at the Grand
Central Station, and later at the fine
tracery of the Madison Square tower
and the bolder outline of the lofty
Metropolitan.
After all she loved New York, even
though, abandoning it, she was also
leaving behind her a life of drudgery,
of comparative poverty, to sweep on
into a future full of hope and prum-
ise and musie, the music she loved
best of all. . The city, the green
' squares, the broken, bulging, impos-
sible sky line, the sound of incessant
steel riveting which punctuates day-
' light for most New Yorkers, all these
things she should miss. But the
things she would gain! The work she
would achieve! The growth and ex-
perience and development which
“would make of her a new, splendid,
‘competent Lynette! The thrill of
' youth, of hope, of an aroused ambi-
tion tingled through her.
She stretched out her hands and
laughed a little, an unsteady, exult-
| ant laugh.
Harley Lane sat and smiled at her,
“I'm a dumb stick, Lynn, but I'm glad
for you and with you,” he said sober-
ly. Possibly the circles under his
eyes and the thinness of his face
seemed to belie this vocal satisfaction,
but Lynette had long ago determined
to ignore that conversation in the res-
taurant. After all, he had merely
passed through a sentimental phase
‘in their friendship; young men had
frequently shown this tendency, since
sentiment is a part of youth, inevita-
i ble but on the whole unimportant com-
| pared with vital matters like ambition,
a wide vision, a far goal! After she
was gone he would fall to work with
a new zest. If he won the competi-
“tion for the mural work in the West-
ern courthouse he might be coming
abroad himself in a .year or so. And
by that time what should she not have
achieved ?
At Fourth Avenue and Twenty-
Third Street they were blocked for
some time. A long line of automo-
biles and wagons and huge trucks
waited with them; a longer line of
cross-town cars, obviously held up by
some accident,went east and west with
a hurtling clamor and bang. This
crossing was dominated by a magnifi-
cent policeman. Now he raised a ma-
jestic finger in warning or encourage-
ment, nodded reassurance to a fright-
ened woman or a group of children,
or shouted a virile monosyllable to
some impatient driver. :
Lynn was watching this splendid
. autocrat when he lifted his hand and
waved it to a couple, an elderly man
and woman. They were obviously of
the immigrant class; the man wore
slouching, rough-hewn clothes, and
the woman’s heavy gray hair was un-
| covered. She was a thin, clean, fur-
‘rowed little person, evidently work-
worn, like her man. Lynette caught
a glimpse of her face; it was honest
i and kind, with big dark eyes that look-
{ed out at the world eagerly with a
certain hopefulness. The man, much
taller, though a little bent, had gray
hair that curled boyishly, and strong
shoulders. With one hand he held the
woman tightly, in the other he carried
a stick and bundle. The pair remind-
ed Lynette of Millet’s reapers—then
of ‘a massive worker, by Roden, in
' bronze.
:
| As their automobile was at last re-
leased and they swept by, Harley
! spoke, half under his breath, without
i looking at Lynette.
“A worn, battered old pair, poor all
their lives, living from hand to
mouth, parents of perhaps a dozen
| children, dead and living. But they
are together—mates! And somehow
| they look as though the compensation
! really compensated, after all.”
Lynette sat quite still; she did not
speak. Yet in her mind there was a
| sudden turmoil, a horde of questions,
an unspringing army of doubts. She:
was utterly amazed at herself, even
She had a vision of the future quite
different from that which she had
been seeing these past radiant, busy,
hurrying weeks. “Mates.” For some
utterly illogical reason the word stung
her, the fact stung her, those two
commonplace old people hurt her hor-
ribly. Old, weary, living the sordid
life of the very poor, those two be-
came enviable in the eyes of Lynette
Rey, possessor of ten thousand dol-
lars, a voice, of youth and charm, and
possibly of a great, splendid, success-
fut future.
Those two out there, flung into the
great melting pot, citizens already or
citizens to be of America, fcunders of
a house, dwellers in a home—however
drab and poor they might be, hewever
obscure, they were at least together.
Only death would separate them. A nd
she, Lynette Rey, the fortunate, the
happy, was going far away and leav-
ing behind her—what?
They were going faster; there was
less congestion. In five minutes they
would turn westward and reach their
destination, the dock of a great liner.
Lynette turned to Hartley, but his
eyes were fixed on some children play-
ing on the steps of an empty house
and his face for the moment looked
gray and tired. A group of boys be-
escaped from the moist atmosphere |
.go and Buffalo have contracts aggre-
yond them were batting a ball across
the street in imminent peril of getting
themselves run over. But the chauf-
feur was a cautious soul, evidently
used to and tolerant of the children of
the poor. They swept by and the chil-
dren played on.
“Harley,” said Lynette, “please look ,
at me a moment.”
Harley turned toward her, shrug- |
ging his shoulders. For an instant
the lines of those shoulders, a Tittle |
stooped just now, reminded her of the
old man holding his wife by the hand. |
Harley smiled, not very cheerfully. i
“Really, Lynette, I don’t seem to.
want to look at you, just now!”
She put out an experimental hand, |
touched the hand on Harley's knee, a |
strong, sensitive hand which instinct-
ively closed over hers with a grip that
hurt. All the blood in her body seem- |
ed to rush from those clasped hands
in a tide up to her face and back
again. She was afraid she might cry.
“Harley,” she murmured, “oh, Har- |
ley, I’ve been alittle dull, blind bat! |
But I didn’t know—I didn’t know! If:
it hadn’t been for that old man and
his wife I might not have ‘known for
weeks, months! The whole sea and
half the world might have got between
us! Harley, so long as we two live
never, never let go of me—hold me as
you are holding me now!”
He was looking at her in sheer
amazement. “You will be on the bay
in an hour— Don’t play with me!”
She put her hand to her wet cheek,
dashed away glittering drops. “I'm
not playing,” she said. “I’ve just dis-
covered that I can’t endure our not
being—mates!”
He was dumb and white, careful not
to take adavntage of this mad momen-
tary whim, even by the merest ges-
ture. She was looking for a handker-
chief, consulting her little wrist
watch.
“We've more than half an hour to
find my trunk and get it off the boat.”
“Lynette, this is a mood which will
pass. I musn’t let you stay!” His
voice was hoarse; he was trying to
laugh at her and not succeeding very
well—but she paid no attention to
this, made no protest.
They were in a side street close to
the river now; a hand organ was play-
ing “Dixie” somewhere in rather a
folrorn, dragging fashion. For the
moment the street was empty, they
seemed utterly alone, and for that
moment, Lynette looked for the first
time down into the soul of Harley
Lane through the gate of his honest
eyes. Eloquent, luminous, set deep in
the countenance of this plain-featured |
young man, they asserted things, pas-
sionately proclaimed things, reverent-
ly promised things which Harley’s
lips could never in this world have ut-
tered. i
Then she realized that the eyes
were seeing her through a mist, that
he was shaking queerly. There came
a great lump into her throat, her
hand stole back, clasped his, just as
they came suddenly to a halt, and 2
towering black porter with a beaming
smile came out to help the chauffeur
unload.—By Elizabeth Newport Hep-
| burn, in the Woman’s Home C -
y opal hour day for labor and a pledge to
ion.
|
¥
Army Planes to Stage Battle of
Gettysburg. i
Gettysburg. — Several thousand
United States Army soldiers and 100
army airplanes will stage the “Bat- |
tle of Gettysburg,” on July 4th, as it
would be staged under modern war-
fare conditions.
Last year a detachment of Marines
re-enacted the battle as it occurred
when fought by the Blue and Gray
forces.
Machine guns, tanks and modern '
barricades will be used in restaging
the event this year. Thousands of
visitors from all parts of the United |
States are expected to witness the
modern exhibition of warfare.
: One hundred airplanes, from scout-
ing machines to bombers, are expect-
ed to whirl overhead, staging aerial
maneuvers. :
High officials of the Army and
Navy are to attend the event, accord- i
ing to plans now under way. i
Details of the “battle” are being
worked out by army engineers, who
are now scouting about in Central
Pennsylvania for suitable landing !
places, where the planes may be re-
fueled.
CANADA TAKES MARKET
FOR WHEAT FROM U. S.
Winnipeg, Man.—Canada is rapidly !
outdistancing the United States as an
exporter of wheat, according to Wil-
liam R. Motherwell, Dominion Minis-
ter of agruculture.
“Returns just compiled for March,”
said Mr. Motherwell, “show that Can-
ada exported 13,446,100 bushels of
wheat in March, as against 6,613,612
bushels in the same month of 1923.
The United States exported 2,957,710
bushels in this period, compared with
4,290,944 in March, 1923.
“More Canadian wheat is going to
United States millers, in spite of the
42-cent tariff duty recently imposed.
Mills in Minneapolis, Duluth, Chica-
gating 14,000,000 bushels now regis-
oped at Fort William and Port Ar-
ur.
“The total amount of wheat shipped
out of Canada to all countries in the
year ending April 1, was 256,370,237
bushels, valued at $267,750,559, an in-
crease of $15,612,754 over the preced-
ing twelve months.”
Anti-Noise Campaign is Started at
Chicago.
Chicago. — Health Commissioner
Bundesen is leading 100 inspectors in
an anti-noise campaign. « These are
the noise makers listed for squeleh-'
ing:
The saxophone player who begins
his concert when people should be
sleeping.”
“The ragtime player who feels it |
necessary to keen the world wide |
awake.”
“The phonograph player who makes
himself a nuisance late at night.”
“The radio fan who turns on the
horn at unseemiy hours.”
“Barly morning street car gongs.”
“The annoying locomotive whistle.” |
“The automobile horn ~ which
sereeches for the best girl to hurry.”
COOLIDGE AND DAWES.
The Republican National cenvention
which started with almost depressing
calm, at Cleveland, Ohio, on Tuesday
of last week, worked up steadily
through the three days of its sessions
into a precedent-setting climax on
Thursday night and ended amid scenes
that soothed the hearts of the old-
timers.
Frank O. Lowden, of Illinois, had
been nominated for Vice President by
an overwhelming vote and had declin-
ed. That had never happened before
in the party’s history, nor was it in
accordance with the convention man-
agers’ plans. Then, after recess to
confirm for the last time, Mr. Low-
den’s frequently reiterated decision,
the “Hell and Maria” general, Charles
G. Dawes, from Chicago, was swept
into the nomination. And that, too,
had not been planned by the leaders.
The convention itself, as President
Coolidge wished, had named his run-
ning mate.
Nomination and acclamation of
Calvin Coolidge was accomplished at
the morning session with decorus en-
thusiasm, only the Wisconsin and
North Dakota followers of Senator
LaFollette = dissenting. Everybody
knew what was going to happen, and
it did. Then came the business of se-
lecting the Vice Presidential candi-
date. Nobody knew what was gaing to
happen, though some of them thought
they did.
Former Governor Lowden was nom-
inated for Vice President on the third
ballot but his positive refusal to ac-
cept made it necessary to reconvene
the convention and General Dawes
was then nominated.
Election of Senators-and Represen-
tatives who believe in Republican
principles and acknowledge party re-
sponsibilities is urged in the Repub-
'lican platform. Other high spots in
the platform are:
American adherence to the world
court as recommended by President
Coolidge.
Demand for speedy prosecution of
all wrong-doers in official positions.
A declaration for rigid enforcement
of the law, but without specific men-
tion of prohibition.
Scientific readjustment of railroad
rate schedules.
Farm relief legislation.
Progressive reduction of the taxes
of all the people.
Settlement of foreign debts grow-
ing out of the war on the basis of the
agreement concluded with Great
Britain.
Reaffirmation of the belief in the
protective tariff policy.
Renewal of a pledge to aid wound-
ed and disabled veterans.
Application of the civil service law
to the prohibition enforcement field
force and to postmasters in first, sec-
ond and third class postoffices.
Improvement of the management
of the government-owned merchant
marine with a view to its ultimate
sale to American citizens.
Opposition to nationalization or
goverment ownership of public util-
ities.
A declaration of faith in the eight-
continue efforts to eliminate the sev-
en-day, twelve-hour week.
Reaffirmation by the party of its
“unyielding devotion to the constitu-
tion and to the guarantees of civil,
political and religious liberty therein
contained.”
Enactment of a Federal anti-lynch-
ing law.
Increased participation of women
in party councils.
Maintenance of a Navy at the full
strength authorized by the Washing-
ton treaty.
Creation of a Cabinet post to edu-
cation and relief under which the
welfare activities of the government
would be grouped.
Opposition to Philippine independ-
ence at this time.
k Constructive development of Alas-
a.
STATE COLLEGE GETS
MANY APPLICATIONS.
Applications for admissions to the
next Freshman class at The Pennsyl-
_vania State College are pouring in at
the office of the college registrar now
that most of the high schools of the
State have had their graduations. The:
' class next year has been limited to
11000, and the bulk of the admissions
will be made beginning about July 1,
when it is felt that all applications
willl be filed.
Regardless of the time at which an
application for admission is filed, each
will receive full and equal considera-
tion, according to the college regis-
trar, W. S. Hoffman. Where there
are more applicants than can be ac-
commodated in a particular course,
the scholastic record of the applicant
will determine the admission. Appli-
cants who stood in the upper one-third
of their high school classes will be
admitted first, then the middle third
and if there is room for more students
in the courses, other promising appli-
cants may be admitted.
This precaution is found necessary
at Penn State because of limited fa-
cilities, and applies to practically all
courses except those in the school of
agriculture and in the school of mines.
In these schools all properly qualified
applicants are admitted each year.
Insanity Grip is Broken by Work and
Exercises.
Albany, N. Y.—Doses of work and
light exercises is the “medicine”
which is being used to cure thousands.
of insane people in this State, accord-
'ing to Dr. O. Floyd Haviland, head of
the State Hospital Commission. Ac-
cording to Dr. Haviland, this plan of
treating insane and mentally weak
patients has emerged from the exper-
imental stage and is a complete suc-
cess.
Adult patients with minds like chil-
dren have been so greatly improved
by being fed work and exercises, in-
stead of drugs and medicine, that their
parole is possible. Others, whose dis-
orders are incurable, are brought to a
condition where it is much easier for
attendants to care for them. ;
The system under which this is ac-
complished is known as mental the-
rapy, and New York State was the
first to adopt it in its institutions for
the insane.