“Bellefonte, Pa., September 19, 1924.
EES SUSI,
LOVE DIVINE.
Love divine, forever flowing
Through these human hearts of ours,
Giving strength to bear life’s burdens,
Givihg. grace to use our powers.
Love divine, forever leading
In the path our lives should go;
Knowing what will keep us near Thee,
In Thy likeness more to grow.
Love divine, forever calling
To break through all man-made creeds
And be one with Thee, as ClLrist was,
Pure in thought and words and deeds.
Love divine, forever lead us
In our sorrow and our mirth,
Till all nations own allegiance,
And Thy Kingdom rules on earth.
RAGS.
Scudder had found him, weak and
whimpering, behind a lumber pile near
the river’s edge. As the boy reached
out his hand invitingly, the dog re-
treated farther beneath the sheltering
boards and whined softly.
“Poor little chap,” Scudder said.
There was something in his voice,
a trace of kindness, of compassion,
which was foreign to the pup’s exper-
ience. He wagged his tail feebly.
“Here, boy! Come here, old fel-
low!”
The dog slunk forward, cringing as
Scudder’s hand fondled his shaggy
ears, But after a moment his trem-
bling ceased. He raised his head and,
with coarse, rough tongue, licked the
hand that stroked him.
Scudder, kneeling, began to speak
in quiet tones.
“You’re nothing but a pile of skin
and bones. I thought at first that you
were a bunch of old rags. The world
has treated you pretty badly, hasn’t
it, old chop? But your troubles are
ended now. You're coming home with
me.
The dog whimpered again, torn be-
tween the fear he had always known
and a new trust which had suddenly
been engendered by the kindness in
the voice that crooned to him. When
Scudder picked him up with gentle
hands, he nestled against the soft lin-
en of the young man’s shirt. If he
could have talked he woould have said
something like this:
“I'm tired and hungry. Men have
kicked me and children have thrown
stones at me. You are the first one
who has ever spoken to me like this.
I'm trusting myself to you.”
Very tenderly Scudder carried him
through the main part of the town
and out to the college campus. At
the steps of the Alpha fraternity
house, a group of boys who had been
discussing baseball regarded the stu-
dent and the dog in mingled amaze-
ment and dismay.
“Look what the cat brought in,” ole
of them said.
Scudder seated himself on the porch
and made the explanation which he
felt was due.
“I found him down in the lumber
yard. He’s only a mutt, perhaps, but
he’s going to be ours.” The speaker
smiled whimsically. “Behold the new
Tiasest of the Alpha house,” he ad-
ed.
Ribald comment greeted the an-
nouncement. But no one made ser-
ious objection. Scudder was a mem-
ber of the Senior class, a campus lead-
er, unquestionably the most popular
man in the fraternity. He did queer
things sometimes, but always with
good reason. If Scudder wanted a
dog, that seemed to be all there was
0 it. :
“The other crowds will laugh at us,”
Jim Colburn said. “The Betas have a
thoroughbred Airedale, you know, and
the Dekas a pedigreed bull terrior.”
“Let them laugh,” Scudder said.
There was a moment of silence.
“Maybe, if he should have a bath,” ing erect, his elbow crooked, his hand |
ter which followed warned him against
the danger of repetition. Except in
the open air, he surmised, dogs should
be seen and not heard.
Without great difficulty, he found
his place in the life of
Everybody knew him, everybody had
a good word for him. He was a friend
of all, but he gave unqualified alle-
giance to only one. Nat Scudder was
his master, his chum—Nat Scudder
his god. :
sons, he haunted the baseball
diamond, where Scudder played. Dur-
ing intercollegiate games, he sat up-
on the long, wooden bench and barked
lustily when his. own college cheered.
Some one tied a red ribbon around his
neck and called him mascot. He judg-
ed the action an honor, and wagged
his tail happily.
There came a time, though, when
Scudder grew irritable. One night,
after supper, he sat for long minutes
before an open book, his eyes unsee-
ing, his fists clenched. Rags sensed
something wrong, but he could da
helplessness by increased affection.
The next day, sitting on the porch
of the farternity house, Scudder turn-.
ed worried eyes to Jim Colburn.
“I’m wondering,” he said, “if the
major will give me the appointment.”
“What appointment?” Colburn ask-
ed.
“The Best Soldier. You know about
it, don’t you?”
“Not much. I'm a classical, and
don’t take drill. But its something
important, isn’t it?”
ly.
cadet battalion takes place on Fri-
day,” he explained, “and the next
morning the major names the Best
Soldier for the year.”
“And you’d like to get it?”
“Yes.”
“Well, here’s hoping!”
But at the indifference in the other
boy’s tone, Scudder frowned.
“I’d give my right hand for the ap-
pointment,” he said gravely. “It car-
ries with it a recommendation for a
second lieutenancy in the army. And
I'm intending to enter the army after
graduation, you know.”
“I didn’t know.” Colburn stood up.
“I'm sorry if I seemed indifferent. I
didn’t realize how important it was.”
Rags was present at the military
drill, of course. He raced joyously
around the field before the battalion
arrived, and when the cadets marched
gate, he took his place at the head of
the band and barked loudly, in happy
abandonment.
The drill was something new in his
experience. It took an incredibly long
time. Uniformed men who paid no
attention to him whatever snapped
out sharp commands; there were or-
marching. The people in the stands
clapped their hands, but they did not
cheer.
While the men marched again, he
: seated himself on the cinder running
{ track and scratched his ear reflective-
ly. After a time, the four companies
{ of soldiers lined up in front of the
main stand. The major, otherwise
known as Professor of Military Sci-
ence and Tacties, stood at rigid atten-
tion, with his back to Rags. He was a
pompous little man who had spent the
last thirty years of his life in military
service. He was the professor, Rags
remembered, who had dismissed him
from class.
| Now with head erect, he walked
from one company captain to the oth-
er. With each he held a brief inter-
change of words which Rags could not
hear. But it all seemed very serious,
very momentous. A strange silence
hung over the field.
The major stopped finally before
Nat Scudder, captain of Company D.
| Rags, who had been watching indiffer-
ently, suddenly pricked up his ears.
He had been trying to find his beloved
master all afternoon, and now—there
he was.
With a shrill bark, Rags streaked
"across the field. Scudder was stand-
the campus. |
nothing. He tried to atone for his |
“I'll say it is!” Scudder spoke grimn- |
“The annual military drill of the
in orderly array through the entrance.
ders and counter orders, and ceaseless |
i “Funny?
less than sheer tragedy to me.” -
i Without further words Scudder
! pushed back his chair and entered the
house.
| “He's taking it hard,” Colburn said.
i “But maybe, when the announcement
is made tomorrow, he’ll be Best Sol-
! dier, after all.”
| “I doubt it,” one of the others ans-
“wered, a, .
Utterly miserable, Rags remained in
the corner of the porch until darkness
fell. At nine o'clock, he whimpered
at the front door until one of the
freshmen let him in. Doubtful of his
| reception, he made his. way to t 2
third story - of the building, where
| Scudder had his room. ‘He found: his
i master seated at the center table, his
chin cupped in his hands. Rags sat
down upon his cushion in one corner
| and looked up with eyes which plead-
, ed for forgiveness.
| For a long time no sound broke the
! silence of the room. Then Scudder
! glanced up, his face haggard.
“Rags,” he said, “I want to be alone
tonight; don’t even want you with
me.’
In abject misery, Rags slunk from
the room and pattered down stairs to
the kitchen. :
He slept finally, but it was a troub-
led sleep which caused him to start
nervously at the slightest sound.
Then, suddenly, a shrill cry from the
room above roused him into instant
wakefulness. .
“Fire!”
Other voices took up the call:
“Fire! Fire! All out!”
Quivering with a strange, new ex-
citement, Rags ran to the main room
and scampered about, barking loudly.
The fellows in the house, clad only in
. pajamas, rushed by him.
|: “Fire!”
i The men dashed pell-mell through
| the front decor, twenty or more of
them, wide-eyed and anxious.
Jim Colburn, wheeling, dashed down
the darkened street. Rags, beside
himself with excitement, followed at
his heels. Jim stopped at the corner,
did something to an iron box, and ran
back again. ;
: Rags remembered Scudder then.
Where was he? Why wasn’t he with
the others?
The dog barked shrilly. But no one
paid the slightest attention to him.
With another shrill bark Rags dash-
ed up the stone steps of the porch and
entered the house. It was strangely
hot in there, and the main room was
filled with a shifting gray mass.
| With a soft whine, Rags dashed to
the stairway and fought his way
through curling smoke to the upper
story. He choked and gasped, but
kept on until he came to Scudder’s
‘room. The boy was lying on his back,
i fast asleep.
Rags barked shrilly and leaped with
all paws upon the prone figure. Scud-
der stirred restlessly.
| “Oh, get out!”
But Rags was insistent. He pushed
his wet nose against Scudder’s face,
and tore at the single sheet with his
teeth. Vaguely irritated, Scudder
stood up. The smell of smoke assailed
his nostrils. Instantly, he was wide
awake, every faculty alert. 4
“Fire!” some one called. 1
Just for an instant, Scudder waited.
Then he spoke, quietly, without alarm.
“Rags,” he said, “I could get out
without any trouble by climbing to the
ledge and feeling my way to the front
of the building. But I can’t climb
along there and carry you at the same
time.”
| He rushed to a closet then and pull-
ed out a heavy coat. Reaching down,
he seized Rags in his arms. With the
coat enveloping both of them, he
, dashed down the smoke-filled starway.
i Half smothered, Rags nestled cloje
against his master’s chest. It took an
incredibly long time to reach the opeh
air. But reach it they did.
A chorus of hoarse voices greeted
them.
“Nat!”
! “We didn’t know you were in there.”
| “Only Rags remembered.”
After another minute, there was ex-
one of the group suggested, “he’d look held tautly against his forehead. citement galore. Clanging engines
more like a dog.”
Scudder stood up.
i Rags, overjoyed at the sight of him,
i barked again, took a flying leap in the
| rumbled down the street, people ap- |
peared from all directions, the frater-
“He’s going to eat first; then Ill air and landed with all four paws on nity house became a mass of seething
wash him.”
Scudder’s chest. He expected to be
flame. But when Scudder, strangely
“Why don’t you let a Freshman do ' greeted with a playful cuff and a gruff | silent, made his slow way across the
it?”
“No, it’s my job.”
Down stairs the steward produced
a bowl of milk, some meat scraps, and
dry bread. Rags attacked them rav-
enously. When he had finished, he
sighed in obvious contentment and
looked up at his new master trusting-
y.
“I don’t think you’ll enjoy the next
number of the program as much as
you did the first,” Scudder told him.
“But baths, to. both dogs and small
boys, are a necessary evil.”
Rags, however, made no strenuous
objection. Water was an alien sub-
stance to him and he shivered slight-
ly at the touch of it. But he submit-
ted passively to the scrubbing to
which he was subjected. When, later,
Scudder had dried him as thoroughly
as possible with a Turkish towel, the
dog was conscious of the greatest con-
tentment he had ever known. He
curled himself in front of the kitchen
stove and fell almost instantly into
untroubled slumber. The world, he
Uncided; wasn’t such a bad place, after
all.
There was no occasion to alter his
decision during the ensuing weeks.
Life became surprisingly, a series of
glorious adventures. He never lacked
company; his meals were regular and
adequate; people, miraculously, had
formed the habit of being kind to him.
There were drawbacks, to be sure.
Twice every week, at Scudder’s per-
emptory command, two of the young-
er boys—freshmen, the others called
them—dumped - him into a tub and
rubbed soap in his eyes. Once in a
great while an elderly man chased
him from the classroom to which he
had followed his master.
Scudder had objected once.
“He isn’t doing any harm, sir. The
other professors let him stay in class-
es :
But the objection had been over-
ruled, and Rags was dismissed.
There were other classrooms, how-
ever, where he could snooze to his.
heart’s content. There was daily
chapel, which he attended religiously.
The strains of the organ bothered him
somewhat, and once he raised his
voice in shrill protest. But the laugh-
| gimenision to “cut it out, old man.”
Instead of that, his master ignored
him, remaining at rigid attention.
Slightly puzzled, Rags tried again,
with like result. From the stands
sounded a ripple of laughter, which
grew into a roar. Here, Rags decid-
ed, was a new game. He dashed in
narrow circles around the two figures
| —the captain of Company D and the
major of the battalion. This maneu-
| ver proving futile, he growled in sim-
ulated anger, and nipped at Scudder’s
shoe. The laughter increased. But
his master said never a word.
The major spoke then, harshly, with
a touch of anger in his voice.
“That will be all, Captain Scudder!”
As the older man walked away,
Rags seated himself at his master’s
feet and awaited developments. But
nothing happened. Scudder did not
so much as glance at him, and after a
minute or two, Rags walked away in
injured dignity. When, a half hour
later, Scudder reached the fraternity
house, a vaguely troubled Rags await-
ed him.
Then, for the first time since the
beginning of their friendship, Scud-
der spoke sharply.
“You cur!” he exclaimed. “For half
a cent I'd give you the licking that's
coming to you.”
It was not so much the words as the
way in which they were spoken that
caused Rags to slink across the porch
to a far corner. Two or three of the
boys seemed to think that something
funny had occurred.
“Rags sort of took the gallery by
storm,” Jim Colburn decl e
The others chuckled; all but Scud-
der; who looked straight ahead, heavy-
eyed and somber.
“It’s all right for you fellows to
laugh, but Rags made a fool of me.
e major will never forgive me, and
—and I've lost my chance for Best
Soldier, I guess.” 3
“But why should that have anything
to do with it?” Colburn asked.
“It hasn’t technically. But the ma-
jor doesn’t like dogs a litdle bit, and
e hates to be held up to ridicule. And
you heard the people laughing, didn’t
you?”
“But it was funny.”
i campus toward one of the dormitories,
Rags turned his back upon the glam-
jour and the din and followed unhesi-
tatingly. Such was the measure of
his loyalty.
He understood only vaguely just
what had happened. But when he ap-
peared on the campus the next morn-
ing, he noticed that the students paid
them even stopped and gave him whole
bars of milk chocolate to eat.
In chapel, when he followed Scud-
der up the center aisle, some one
started to cheer. Rags wagged his tail
happily and took his usual place.
There was an atmosphere of excite-
ment, of expectancy, in the air. The
president spoke for a long time;
something about “the misfortune
groups and the tragedy which was
barely averted.” Something about a
hero—about Rags.
There was more cheering. Then the
major of the battalion, as pompous as
ever, advanced to the pulpit.
“] take pleasure in announcing that
the Best Soldier for the present year
is Mr. Nathaniel Scudder.”
. One of the students leaped to his
eet. ’
“A long yell for Nat!” he called.
In the midst of the thunder of sound
which followed, Scudder reached down
and patted Rag’s shaggy head. The
old touch of friendship was there, the
old pledge of loyalty. .
Things were all right again.
Rag’s small body quivered with the
greatest surge of happiness he had
ever known.—Reformatory Record.
——A fire in the Arapahoe National
Forest in Colorado started from a
camp fire left smoldering by careless
motorists burned 2,500 acres of excel-
lent pine timber in a little more than
three hours. This rapid destruction
took place despite the fact that officers:
of the Forest Service, with a force of
250 men, began fighting the fire al-
most as soon as it started.
——1In 1784 the first bale of cotton
exported from America was shipped
from Charleston, South Carolina.
It was nothing more or
special attention to him. Some of |
which has befallen one of the college | 000
STATE FOREST FIRE ORGANIZA-
TION AND ITS PURPOSE.
A GREAT NEED FORESEEN.
Recent years have served to awak-
en the people of both State and Na-
“tion to the dire need of protecting our
forests. Of the countless destructive
agencies which prey upon them, fire
i is the one great enemy we must strive
to conquer. : :
The forests, we know, will never be
i immune from fire, for there are agen-
cies not attributed to the destructful
“hand of man, but man in an advanced,
‘educated state can, if he will, serve as
-a barrier toward the unnecessary and
j terrible -waste caused by the spread-
ing of fire due to these agencies.
MEANS OF EDUCATION.
All means imaginable are being em-
ployed by State and Nation to educate
| the people to the great need of pro-
tecting our forests from fire. Mo-
tion pictures of educational value have
been taken of the forests. The eter-
nal aim is to show man’s relation to
forest products and how unprogres-
‘ sive he would be without them. This
means of education has possibly been
the most effective. For the first time
these pictures were shown in the Penn
Forest district during the summer of
1922. Approximately 3,000 people at-
tended. Facts, as never before, were
shown and not so apt to be forgotten.
Pictures were again shown in 1924,
just prior to the opening of the spring
forest fire season with an attendance
‘of over 3,500. Interest was manifest-
ed from the very first showing. A
greater degree of effectiveness than
ever before was shown during the fire
season which closely followed.
Of the nineteen forest fires occur-
ring in the Penn Forest district dur-
ing the spring of 1924 only 23.8 acres
of forest burned. $31.50 was expend-
ed in extinguishing these fires, and the
damage amounted to only $33.50. Of
i these nineteen fires only seven were
‘attended by forest fire wardens. And
of these seven fires four were extin-
guished by interested citizens before
wardens arrived. This bespeaks a day
like Germany now enjoys when suffi-
cient interest and action on the part
of local citizens will render a forest
fire organization unnecessary.
Signs in the. Penn Forest district
help play an important part. Their
' message carries an appeal which will
be heeded by all public-spirited citi-
zens. Perhaps more than any other
“Prevent Forest Fires—It Pays,” the
| appropriate and effective slogan,
“blazes forth frem forest-skirted high-
ways.
The great need brought before the
public’s gaze through the newspapers
is a great help. Read by many and
‘remembered always by those who
think.
Letters to sportsmen, Boy Scouts,
and other organizations prove effec-
tive. The co-operation is felt and
' greatly appreciated.
Results have been attained pleasing
and gratifying to the Department of
Forestry. People are beginning to
see the great objective, to experience
a more dogged determination to ex-
patriate the deadly forest fire. Sports-
men are up in arms against it, not so
much because of the economic value
of the forest, but because it destroys
that which they seek. Nature lovers
abhor it because of the ugliness and
repulsive results of its greed.
The beautiful objective is, then, for
all to become more intimately ac-
quainted with the best of our scenic
assets, and nourish a truer apprecia-
tion of their worth. This would lead
increasing numbers to a keener con-
sciousness of the fact that we must
preserve the trees that grow in the
forests, not only because of their val-
ue, but because of their beauty and
charm.
THE ORGANIZATION.
Prior to 1915 the department was
more or less handicapped in its earn-
"est endeavor to suppress forest fires.
' First, lack of funds to carry on an ap-
propriate system of detection and sup-
pression. Second, the indifferent atti-
. tudne of the people in their relation to
the department’s efforts. -
Since 1915 conditions have improv-
ed to a great extent. Pressing need
of protection has been taught with pa-
tience and vigor. Individuals and or-
ganizations fairly saturated with the
spirit and need have enlisted them-
selves into the service. Steel towers
‘have been erected on the high moun-
tain tops and manned by efficient men
during the dry seasons of spring and
fall. Telephones connect these tow-
ers with the outside world. Specially
designed tools for fire fighting are be-
ing used by the department. Fire
| trails are kept clean against the pos-
sible spread of fire. Roads into the
most remote parts of the forest are
Hajntaived to afford quick attack of
re.
PERSONNEL.
The personnel of the Penn Forest
district deserves no little mention.
Upon them rests the responsibility of
keeping fire from approximately 275,-
acres of forest. Team work on
the part of the entire personnel is the
only means of assured success. Each
and every minute detail must have at-
tention, to keep the organization in
perfect motion. The personnel in the
Penn Forest district comprises the
follownng: District forester; 38 for-
est rangers; 1 inspector; 53 forest fire
wardens, and 2 towermen.
The first in command is the dis-
trict forester, who directs all activi-
ties, has a check on all reports and
bills and vestigations; sees to it
that every cog in the big wheel is do-
ing its part. In extreme cases takes
personal charge of forest fires.
Next in command is the forest ran-
ger. He is responsible to the forest-
er for all protective measures adopt-
ed and carried out upon his range.
Takes charge of fires when~er possi-
ble. Supervises and directs in the ab-
sence of the forester. ;
Inspectors employed during the dry
seasons are always present at fi ec in
their jurisdiction. To render all he'n
possible in determining the cause of
the fire and the party responsible. In-
spects and offers recommendation as
to disposal of forest fire hazards.
i Conducts investigations and makes a
written report for all fires occurring
within their jurisdiction.
It is the duty of the forest fire war-
den to respond at all fires reported to
him or coming to his notice. He is
urged to have at his call a crew of
regular, trained men for quick re-
sponse. He shall have full charge of
the fire in the absence of the forester,
ranger or.inspector..
The towermen are the eyes of the
organization. Upon them rests the
responsibility of detecting and locat-
ing the forest fire as quickly and ac-
curately as possible. He knows the
location of each warden. When
| smoke ‘is spotted he is talking with
the warden in that territory often-
times in less than five minutes after
fire has started. He names the local-
ity and insists upon prompt action.
He keeps the forester informed from
time to time on the progress of the
fire, whether he thinks more help is
needed or whether the fire is con-
+ quered. - -
(This is the first of a series of four very
illuminating articles on reforestation, writ-
ten by J. R. Mingle, of the Penn Forest
District, of Milroy. The second article will
appear in next week’s issue of the “Watch-
man.”
FACTS ABOUT ANIMALS.
We have been instructed respecting
dumb animals and not only so, but
these animals have been protected
"and cared for through the kindness of
those who have given themselves to
this work. We are very much indebt-
ed to the men who go through life
finding out facts for us. The men of
science by their wonderful discoveries
have benefitted not only their own na-
tion, but also the whole world. By
perseverance and some risk they have
added to human knowledge. The
world has been girdled to make known
the facts of animal existence. Among
those who have added to the stores of
knowledge we may place our natural-
ists who have told us what they have
seen, in a most fascinating way.
I have heard some very valuable
and interesting lectures given by
travelers and naturalists. Some years
ago it was my privilege to hear a lec-
ture given by Mr. Selous, the famous
explorer. He told us wondrous sto-
ries of what he has seen and heard.
He had been about the world a good
deal and had observed animated na-
ture with keen eyes. He could imi-
tate the cries of different animals
very cleverly and he told us the mean-
ing of the cries.
He said that most animals had three
special cries,—one the cry of warning
to warn other animals of enemies and
danger, which put them on the alert.
Then he mentioned the love call, which
was used when birds were nesting and
animals were mating. There was also
the food call to inform others where
food was to be found. He gave some
instances of these calls in a very clev-
er way.
He had also observed butterflies
that were often very difficult to distin-
guish, because they were so much like
the leaves and flowers whereon they
rested. . He said also that some snakes
were difficult to see, because they
were so like their surroundings. It
was only as they moved that they
were seen. I remember once in the
New Forest seeing a viper in this way.
I should not have noticed it if I had
not nearly trodden upon it, and caused
it to move. ; y af
Mr. Selous spoke of the rabbit as
an animal that warned its kind by
cocking up its tail, and showing the
white danger signal to warn others to
seek for safety. He told us of a young
rabbit that he watched one day. He
described how the mother rabbit on
leaving its young one gave special in-
structions to it not to move until she
came back because it was dangerous.
Then she went away. Presently the
young rabbit heard a queer rustling
noise and wandered what it was.
Nearer and nearer it seemed to come.
Whatever could it be? The young
rabbit became so afraid, and peeped
out to see what was amiss. It was a
great snake coming along among the
mother!” Then the mother rabbit
rushed back and drove the snake
away.
_ Another time the lecturer was rid-
ing along when he saw there were sev-
eral large stones in the distance. He
saw there was a deer among them
which, when it saw him, bounded
away. Soon after he saw something
moving among the stones, so he
thought it must be a young deer. He
could not see very clearly because it
was a good way off. He rode forward
to satisfy his curiosity. He thought
the young deer had been warned to
keep still. He did not want te fright-
en the young deer, so he rode about
but did not go very near at the first.
Then he kept riding round it in a cir-
cle, getting nearer every time. With
the aid of a field glass he could see
more distinctly. He got nearer and
nearer, and noticed how still it was.
He got so near that he saw a large fly
settle on its ear, and though it must
have tickled very much, the deer
made not the slightest movement. Mr.
Selous said he was struck with the ab-
solute obedience of the young deer to
its mother’s warning.
He said, incidentally, that it was a
lesson to young people, and to older
people as well, because obedience is
one of the greatest lessons of life. I
see another lesson and that is the
wonderful Providence of God that is
round about not only people, but also
all created life. The natural Divine
provision. should fill us all with won-
der, love and praise—By Jesse Tay-
lor, Eng'and, in Our Dumb Animals.
Fair Warning.
Bridget and Michael had been mar-
ried barely three months, and already
Michael had on two occasions arrived
home in the early hours of the morn-
ing. This did not suit Bridget, as on
each occasion she had to come down
to admit him. :
Michael was looking forward to
spending the evening of this particu-
lar day in having a “few sociable ones
with the bhoys,” and this Bridget
knew.
“Now, look here,” she said to her
husband at the breakfast table, “it
was 2 o'clock the following morning
when ye came home the other night
a bit since. It was 2 o'clock the fol-
lowing morning when ye came home
last night. But I want to be telling
ye that if it’s 2 o'clock in the morn-
ing when ye come home tonight—or
any other night in the morning—you
will have to get up and let yourself
in.”-—Boston Globe.
dried leaves, so called aloud, “Mother, '
, FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.
| DAILY THOUGHT.
To have a friend is to have one of the
Sweetest gifts that life can bring; to be a
friend is to have a solemn and tender edu-
cation of soul from day to day.—Anna
. Robertson Brown.
A new set of standards of women’s
belt lengths is to be followed by mem-
, bers of the United Belt League of
i America, after careful consideration
of reorders for this merchandise that
have lately been received from the re-
tail trade. Announcement was made
to this effect recently in a statement
sent out by the league, which said:
“With the increased sales of leath-
er belts measuring two and a half
inches or more in width and the pres-
ent tendency toward a higher waist-
: line, it has been found out that the
! lengths in the majority of orders have
‘ shifted. Instead of the 34 to 44 meas-
| urements which governed the narrow
belts of last season, the wide belts are
sold mostly in sizes ranging from 30
| to 40 inches. The belts sold by the
dozen in these sizes should, it was de-
cided, contain one belt of 30 inches,
one of 40 inches and the rest distrib-
uted according to individual exper-
ience.
“Among the dress manufacturers
using leather belts this season there
is a similar tendency to place belts
higher than they were last season.
For this reason many dress designers
do not put slits in the dresses through
which a belt may be slipped or use
any other method for determining
where the waistline should be. The
final adjustment is left to the wearer.
On many tailored dresses the placing
of pockets necessitates a higher waist-
line. Particularly among the young-
er women there is a noticeable incli-
nation to wear the wide belts around
the waist instead of the hips, so that
it has been found advisable to make a
sufficient number of belts to meet this
demand.”
You have seen the swagger sweat-
ers the young men and girls, too, have
been wearing this summer—those
trickery models in pull-over style, ma-
chine-Knitted, in solid colors, with bor-
ders of various bright tints. They are
just the thing for school and sports
use, but, as a rule, they come only in
the larger sizes, none of them small
enough for the boy or girl of six or
eight or ten who likes to be up-to-date
quite as much as big brother or sis-
ter. The sweaters come in a variety
of colors, and they are carefully made
of pure wool. Indeed, they are the
very thing for the young folks just
starting back to school to use on the
first cool days of fall.
Just think of having one’s school
bag all filled with tablets, pencils and
other needful articles that are neces-
sary to the business of learning!
Wouldn't it be a joy? Mothers ean
buy a sturdy school bag made of wa-
ter-proof material carefully bourd
about the edges to give long service
for only $1.25. It contains not only
tablets and rulers but a fitted pencil
case as well, so the little student will
not need another thing to commence
his work. It’s a dandy buy, mother,
one you should not miss.
While black continues to hold sway
over the French imagination, and nar-
row straight lines continue to outline
the fashionable silhouette, the bril-
liant designers of Paris are devising
touches that will add sparkle and orig-
inality to the mode of simplicity.
Couturiers vie with each other in cre-
ating ingenious trifles that accentu-
ate the charm of the gown and the
originality of the wearer. A touch of
color where one is quite unaccustomed
to find it, a sudden fullness that defies
the silhouette, a pocket, a shoulder
cape, are often the important trifles
Dias make the reputation of a cos-
me.
Chinese influence is noted in tunics,
split in front, back or at sides, with
small collars or fastenings on the
cross, in black with multi-colored em-
broidery or some vivid color, some-
times in lame with border of woolen
material matching underdress, some
models nearly exact copies of Chinese
costumes. Very often mixing of two
materials in one model. :
Coats in velours, duvetine, velvet;
straight or in form of redingotes with
godef at sides, with sleeves very wide
at bottom, with important fur borders.
Number of linings in cashmere or
duvetine and even for coats in Frost-
krepe or satin, natural fox and leop-
ard is much employed, latter often on
back. Other furs mostly match coat
in color. Some fastenings on the
cross, bordered with narrow bands of
fur, on coats and jackets of tailor-
mades, which are straight and simple,
iin plain or chine woolen material in
black, brown beige, green, willow.
Woolen materials plain or chine with
matching coroso buttons. These had
sometimes borders and trimmings of
galoon disposed en barre.
Already a manufacturer has put
out a stunning top coat which is an
exact copy of the one His Majesty
wears, and which is built especially
for his feminine admirers. -The ma-
terial is very soft and light and warm
and bears the name of “regal down.”
It is somewhat on the order of polo
cloth, only silkier and softer. And
inside the coat itself-bears the proud
label, “Prince Polo Coat.”
It’s cut is the last word in smart-
ness with the most swagger of Eng-
lish lines. There is an inverted pleat
up the back and a belt from the side
seams across the back only. Darts at
either side under the arms give the
waist a semi-fitted appearance which:
is very jaunty. It is double-breasted,
with matching amber buttons, and
| may be worn either in single or dou-
ble-breasted effect. Small buttons fin~
ish the sleeves. It is lined through-
cut with silk of the same shade.
| _ Another fashion inspired by the
Prince was ‘not intended for the la-
dies but will be adopted by them. This
is the Prince of Wales tie, which
shows coin dots on a blue ground. The
blue is a cross between powder and
robin’s egg. Perhaps periwinkle blue
comes nearest to it. And the dots are
{ a deeper shade. Everybody knows
such a tie will go adorably with Peg-
gy’s white blouse or slip-on sweater.
Or copy the Prince's racing: colors,
which are red with blue sleeves, and a
black cap. :