-
Bellefonte, Pa., March 13, 1925.
A ————
THE BRIAR-ROSE.
By Helen Elizabeth Wilson.
The Briar-rose bloomed in the meadow
‘Where a brook sang on its way;
And often the sunbeams loitered there
From dawn till close of day.
And often the wandering south-wind
Lingered to whisper and woo,
Till briar-rose blushed and hung her head,
For she thought him a lover true.
“Have a care, have a care, little flower!”
The meadow brook sang on its way,
“The sun shines clear but he's fickle, dear,
The south wind bides but a day.”
But briar-rose mocked,
head,
The sun and the wind laughed long;
The little brook fled away to the sea,
With a minor in its song.
and tossed her
The south-wind found a violet bank,
The sun wooed each flower that blows;
The brook mourned low—it bore to the sea
The faded leaves of a rose.
WILL GETS A RAISE.
“When I hear a married woman say
that she and her husband never have
any words,” said Dulcie firmly, “I
know it’s one of two things: Either
she’s lying or she doesn’t know when
she’s stepped on.”
Rosemary Merton and I laughed.
Dulcie is always so firm about every-
thing like that.
“Why, take the money question
alone,” Dulcie went on. “Do you think
for an instant it’s possible for a man
and woman to agree on the way every
penny of a hundred and five dollars a
month is spent? Why, when I’ve
been waiking from Dennie’s way up
to Walker’s to get melons three for a
quarter instead of straight ten apiece,
and have put imitation filet, that my
soul simply revolts at, on a blouse in
order to save thirty-five cents, and
then to have Roger Lane come walk-
ing in with a book he’s bought! Why,
any woman on earth would ask him
phat the town has a public library
or!”
I didn’t say much, but I couldn’t
help feeling a little superior as I
laughed. Will and I, though we had
been married only a little over a year,
had the whole money question so per-
fectly arranged. Our budget box
worked perfectly; so much to save
each month, so much for doctor and
dentist—which we hadn’t even touch-
ed—so much for clothes and so on.
And then our luxury part, that gave
us each a dollar a week that the other
wasn’t even to ask what we spent it
for—well, really, I couldn’t see why
people had so much trouble planning
out their money. It seemed to me that
all any couple needed was a little com-
mon sense.
Of course that isn’t saying that our
budget was as large as we'd like. It
worked like a well-oiled machine, but | d
Will used to worry a lot because he
never got a raise. This was on ac-
count of his working for his father, of
course.
When you're working in the bank,
the way Roger Lane is, or, in fact,
anywhere outside your own family, it
is taken for granted that you get a
five-dollar-a-month raise every year,
or at least a bigger salary some time,
whether you need it or not. But when
you're working for your own father,
all is different. He figures that the
whole business will be yours some
time and, so long as your rent isn’t
raised or you don’t have sickness or
anything, a hundred dollars a month
js Just as much this year as it was
ast.
Will don’t like to come right out
and ask for more salary, on account of
Father Horton having given us our
flivver, so we just keep along on the
hundred, saving the per cent. the bud-
get book said you ought to save, and
getting along all right, but feeling as
any young couple would feel when
their next-door neighbor, who had
started work at the same time, was
getting a hundred and five. It might
have gone along like that for years
and years, if it hadn’t been for Mr.
MacAllister’s moving out to Califor-
nia.
Mr. MacAllister had taken a great
fancy to Will ever since Will worked
his head off on the hospital drive, and
So, when he was getting ready to
move, he said he wanted Will to take
charge of the MacAllister Building,
and the drug-store block and the bun-
galows he owns out on Grand Street,
collecting the rents, seeing about re-
pairs and so on. This business would
naturally go to the Horton Real Es-
tate Company; but Mr. MacAllister
told Father Horton he'd like to have
Will have it for himself, and Father
said, well, he guessed Will had earn-
ed it and, all right, he could handle it
on the side.
I was pleased, thinking we would be
getting a hundred and five a month
too, and could go into the city once in
a while to the theatre, which we really
couldn’t afford on owr budget and only
went when Father or Father Horton
would take us. But I knew something
was up when Will came home for din-
ner the day Mr. MacAllister left. Will
always shows everything in his looks,
like an open-face watch. It’s just like
the joke Father heard, that eating on-
ions is the secret of curing a cold but
it’s awful hard to keep it a secret. I
was broiling the steak and trying the
potatoes to be sure they were done
and making cream sauce for the cau-
liflower, all at once, as Will came in
the door. And in spite of being as
preoccupied as any woman—I don’t
care how good a cook she is—at a
time like that, I knew something had
happened.
“Well,” said Will, “I closed up the
deal with Mr. MacAllister this morn-
ing. :
“And you’re going to get the five a
month, ' just for yourself?” I asked,
briskly stirring the flour and water
into the milk.
Will leaned against the kitchen ta-
ble and crossed his arms and legs.
“What is it, Will?” I asked sharp-
ly. When Will acts as casual as that,
it always means something important.
“Five a month, did you say?” helT
asked carelessly,
“Well, aren’t you?” .
“Wel-1-1.” Will whirled hi
around on his forefinger. “W, -l-,
didn’t set any price, just asked him
what he thought it would be worth to
3 ”
him.
“What did he say?”
Will just couldn’t keep up the bluff
of being casual and indifferent, his
grin broke through like a delighted
sheepish sun through the clouds.
“He said that he figured it ought to
be worth,” said Will, and then paused
dramatically, “twenty-five dollars a
month.”
I sto everything I was doing
with a PP a that nearly wreck-
ed our dinner. And no wonder. Twen-
ty-five dollars a month! Five dollars
a month more is a raise, twenty-five
more is a change of fortune.
“We’ll be having,” I said in an awed
tone, as Will drew out my chair at the
table—Will is never going to overlook
those little courtesies when we're for-
ty years old and have eight children;
it’s awful how Father never pulls out
Mother’s chair except when we have
hat
company, and then she slides in it ap-
prehensively, somebody having pulled
a chair out from under her once when
she was a child and she never having
recovered her confidence—“we’ll be
having an income of a hundred and
twenty-five dollars a month!”
“M-hmm,” said Will, putting a
strain on all his blood vessels, trying
to act casual about it.
But it was something that was pret-
ty hard to be casual about. There are
men in Montrose of fifty who don’t
make a hundred and twenty-five dol-
lars; in fact, I don’t think any of them
do except those who are in business
for themselves, and even then, as
Father says, they generally aren’t in
the minting business. Roger Lane
makes the most of any of our young
crowd and he’s been getting one hun-
dred and five dollars only three
months. Most of the young fellows
make about a hundred. A hundred
and twenty-five jumps right up into
an entirely different matter.
“There’s one thing we must be care-
ful about, Will,” I said seriously. “We
musn’t let it make us = bit different
in our manners with our friends. Just
because we'll be able to live different-
ly in some ways, we must be awfully
careful not to even appear snobbish.”
“Oh, sure,” said Will. Goodness
knows, it was unnecessary to caution
him about being snobbish. If Will
suddenly became a millionaire he’d
still let old Petey Jensen, who is the
town’s handy man and doesn’t own a
suit of clothes but overalls, call him
“Bill.” And he got to talking about
Ireland once to the night watchman at
the Harvester Company and brought
him right along home to supper. Ir
anything, Will could stand being a lit-
tle more snobbish. Still I think even
he realized that a family which has an
income of a hundred and twenty-five
dollars a month is in a little different
social class from one which has only
a hundred.
In Montrose, though, it is never ex-
actly easy to tell just what class we
o belong in. Not in the class with
the Burrises and the Scogginses and
Judge Gordon, of course. r. Burris
is president of Roger Lane’s bank and
the Scogginses own almost all of Wa-
ter Street, and Judge Gordon once ran
for Congress. Still, Jean Gordon mar-
ried Howard Merton’s cousin and does
her own washing, and Mr. Burris is
Father’s regular partner in the Men's
Whist Club.
Then there is the new Harvester
Company crowd, which moved here
from Chicago when the Harvester
factory was built. They keep maids,
which even the Scogginses don’t do,
and have dinner at night regularly,
and everything sporty like that.. But
Dulcie and Rosemary and I belonged
to their bridge club for a while, and
Mrs. Curtis’s brother is crazy about
Madge Edwards, one of our crowd.
That’s the way Montrose society is,
though, all mixed up. Old Petey Jen-
sen mows the Scogginses’ lawn, but
he saved up his money and sent his
daughter to the university; and if she
didn’t run against Margery Scoggins
for class secretary and beat her!
“Let’s stick to our old budget,” said
Will, “just the same, and use the ex-
tra twenty-five a month partly to save
more and partly to do a few things
we've been wanting to do and could | eq
not.”
That sounded like a good idea to
me, and to celebrate we went up to the
city for dinner and to the theatre the
first week. When we were taking our
seats who should come into the very
row ahead of us but Mr. and Mrs.
Bartell. They are in the Harvester
crowd, not the big bugs, of course, but
still in that crowd, and they looked
like a million dollars. They seemed
awfully glad to see us though, and
made us stop in the Maryland grill
while we were waiting for the eleven-
fifty-nine train, and have some fruit
salad.
Mrs. Bartell and I sat together on
the train going home and got very
well acquainted. She is only three or
four years older than I am, and didn’t
seem snobbish at all. She invited Will
and me for dinner the next Friday
night, and asked me to bring my sew-
ing and come early in the afternoon.
It was a lovely September after-
noon and we sat out on her porch and
sewed and talked and got acquainted
in the sudden, surprising way you do
once in a while. Betty Bartell is the
kind you get acquainted with quick.
She told me move inside stuff about
the Harvester crowd. How Mrs. Cur-
tis, the president’s wife, is so stingy
that she keeps her soap in the attic
till it gets dry, and goes further; how
Mr. Stevens is Mr. Grabo’s assistant
and does all the work that Mr. Grabo
gets the credit tor, and a lot of other
things. But the amazing thing she
told me, that simply knocked me cold,
was just before Will and Mr. Bartell
got there for dinner. She had become
very confidential and she told me her
husband’s income.
It was eighteen hundred dollars a
year, fifteen hundred salary and three
hundred bonus. :
“Why, isn’t that funny!” I exclaim-
ed. “That’s the same salary my hus-
band gets.”
It was perfectly true, because the
bonus wasn’t part of Harry Bartell’s.
t came at New Year's and was a
present from the company, and noth-
| one.
ing to be counted on. Of course, Mr.
Bartell had got it for five years now
I|and probably always would, but still,
his actual salary was just the same
as Will's.
After she had told me that, I just
sat, pie-eyed, and looked around Bet-
ty Bartell’s porch, at the wicker
ne and the smart wicker
bird cage with a fernery, all made in
I looked through the French
door into her living-room, which has
a Chinese rug and is simply rich-look-
ing, and on into the dining-room,
which has a refectory table. Their
maid, in a black dress with a white
apron, was setting the table, and the
whole aimosphete was simply oozing
with luxury. In that one brief glimpse
I realized the magnitude of the jump
that Will and I had made. This was
the social class we had soared into.
At first it was almost dazzling to
have so much to spend for luxuries.
Of course the things we got might not
seem luxurious to millionaires and
such people, but they certainly did to
us
“Gosh,” said Will, coming home
with a stop-light for our flivver, “but
I'm glad to get this. You need it if
you're going to use your car after
supper in the fall or winter.” :
As a matter of fact, the light cost
only two dollars and a quarter, but
till Will got his raise we had never
seemed to be able to get it out of our
budget any one week, and had kept
putting it off. It had been just the
same about salad forks. Our silver is
plated and six salad forks only cost
fixe-forty, and yet till Will got his
raise I had never seemed able to
squeeze out enough to get them. As
I told Will it did seem marvelous luck
that our financial situation should
have changed just when I began get-
ting intimate with Betty Bartell, be-
cause I simply couldn’t have faced
having them for dinner without salad
forks.
Then Will subscribed to a golf mag-
azine. That was pure, unadulterated
extravagance. He doesn’t play golf,
himself; he’s always repeating a joke
he heard once, that he wouldn’t even
know how to hold a caddy, but for
some unknown reason he’d been just
hankering to take that magazine. It
seemed a positively feeble-minded
thing to do, to me, but I couldn’t say
anything against it because Will was
so nice about my getting a satin bed-
spread, which he thinks is all folderol,
and which I admit, myself, isn’t aw-
fully practical.
And the comfort we both got out of
being able to subscribe to Mrs. Scog-
gins’s charity! She’s crazy about
cats, and this charity is to take care
of homeless cats. As Will said, there
are philanthropies closer to his heart,
but it was nice to be in a position to
shell out five dollars when it pleases
anybody as much as that pleased Mrs.
Scoggins. She took us home in her
limousine and, by the grace of heaven,
Betty Bartell and Mrs. Stevens hap-
pened to be passing just as we were
getting out. Betty joked me about
being right in with “the old guard”— |
even the Harvester bunch respect the
Scogginses and Judge Gordon and the
Burrises, and I could see she and Mrs.
Stevens thought more of me for it, so
I didn’t say anything about the cats.
Being in a position to go into the
city to the theatre once in a while, we
were always running onto other peo-
" PLEASANT GAP PHILOSOPHY. no doubt, especially to those who have
By Levi A. Miller.
In the general satisfaction at the
settling of the coal strike, few will be
inclined to question how it was set-
tled, or to ask why it was not settled
weeks ago. The country has been
saved from a grave peril. The miners’
union has been saved from the public
indignation which certainly would
have been directed against it, if the
coal shortage had been allowed to go
much farther. The settlement appar-
ently satisfies everybody. The only
wonder is that it wasn’t effected
weeks ago.
If you feel that you are going be-
hind, and that you cannot support
your apparent standing in society,
drop your hangers-on, for that’s what
they will do with you presently; as
rats desert a sinking ship. You need
not care about their feelings, what we
consider as other people’s feelings,
are more our own feelings, and this
step will likely be a greater punish-
ment to your pride than it would be to
their feelings, aud you have possibly
mistaken the one for the other.
It is a fact, whether people want to
admit it or not, that children are not
as welcome as they used to be. Too
many parents haven't the time to care
for them. You can recall families of
your acquaintance where the parents
haven’t time to raise their children
properly. They look after them dur-
ing their infancy, as a matter of ne-
cessity, clothe them as a matter of de-
cency, and let them run whithersoever
they wiil as a matter of convenience.
It may be too much to say that every
one can recall such cases; but almost
every one can who is ordinarily ob-
servant.
In olden times it was a parents
pride to raise children in such a way
as to make them a credit to their
name, and a valuable acquisition to
society. The father who left behind
an honorable and industrious son, left
more to the world than he who built
a church or endowed a college. The
mother who trained and educated a
daughter in all that pertains to a true
woman, gave to society and civiliza-
tion far more than a Mrs. Siddons or
a Patti.
It is a bother for a business man to
look after his children and see that
they are surrounded with proper influ-
ences. He hasn't time to talk to
them or listen to their talk. So he
bundles them off to a school some-
where and pays a man to look after
them. He finds he has more comfort
at home without them. Things are
quieter when they are away, for boy
is but another name for noise. Such
men may make money by sending
their boys away, but too often it
proves as curseful as ill-gotten gain.
They forget that there is as much skill
in handling money as in making it.
The boys, instead of being taught in
the father’s practical school, how to
make and take care of money, only
learn in the boarding school how to
spend it.
So many men are ambitious to
leave a fortune and a name. The lat-
ter they strive to paint high up on the
political fence or some of the dead
walls of fame, and the former flashes
lin the eyes of the groundlings from
i
i
ple who were going. One night we
met the Burrises in the Montrose sta-
tion, and they insisted on taking us to
dinner at the MacWelton hotel first.
I accidentally saw the dinner check
and nearly dropped dead. Of course
the Burrises are old enough to be our
parents and didn’t expect us to do
anything in return, but we were both
glad Will was making that MacAllis-
ter money. If was very gratifying
two weeks later to tell Mrs. Burris
that we had four tickets for “The
Scarlet Mask,” and would like to have
her and her husband for our guests.
It is strange, though, but in the
midst of all such gayety and prosper-
ity there were times when I would
feel worried. It was a vague worry—
I couldn’t just put my finger on what
was troubling me—and I decided that
it was mainly because, being naturally
a systematic person, it bothered me
that we were letting our budget slip.
But it would have been very hard to
keep it straight. Extras were so mix-
up with our old running expenses.
For instance, the budget allowed for
having little Ella Crowninshield come
once a month to wait on table and do
the dishes when we had company for
dinner. But now that I could afford
her much oftener I didn’t know wheth-
er to take her fifty cents a time out of
“Labor and Service” or set it down to
extras.
Almost every branch got mixed up.
Will got stuck for a ten-dollar sub-
scription to the basket ball team. Van
Courtney, who asked him for it, knew
about the MacAllister job, and Will
said he didn’t have the face to give
just two dollars, the way he did last
fall. He said he was making nearly
as much as Van now and he felt that
if Van gave ten, he ought to, too. But
while he had got the two last year
half out of the “amusement” and half
the “improvement” division, Will said
ke was blamed if ten dollars was eith-
er amusing or improving.
So, in one way and another, our old
budget got so mixed up that it didn’t
seem worth while to try to use it at
all. I knew it was silly to worry over
this when we had a hundred and twen-
ty-five dollars a month coming in, but
it made me feel kind of guilty when-
ever I thought of it.
(Concluded next week). *
Brevity.
Tom Callahan got a job on the sec-
tion working for a railroad. The su-
perintendent told him to go along the
line looking for washouts.
“And don’t be as long winded in
your next report,” said the superin-
tendent. “Just report the condition of
the road. Write a business letter, and
not a love letter.”
Tom proceeded on his tour of in-
spection, and when he reached the riv-
er, he wrote this report to the super-
intendent: “Sir: Where the railroad
was, the river is.”
—Subscribe for the “Watchman.”
every side. What better name can
they leave than that borne by a son,
and what better fortune than a thriv-
ing business?
Girls are different!
Yes, that’s so, but there is or at
least there used to be, a way of bring-
ing them up so they were profitable to
society and the world at large. In
other days it was the custom for
mothers to teach their daughters ‘the
domestic arts and fit them for the ac-
tive duties of life. There are mothers
living now who considered themselves
unfitted to marry until they had mas-
tered the art of spinning, sewing,
cooking and housekeeping. But
times have changed, and greatly, too.
Whether for the better or not is anoth-
er matter, yet none the less import-
ant. That was a practical age. Then
people felt it a duty to earn what they
got. A man without an occupation
useful to society, or a woman who
couldn’t take a hand in household du-
ties, were regarded as no good.
If one becomes lonely these dreary,
changeable evenings, at the Gap, and
desires to be livened up, all he has to
do is go up to the Noll store. They
have a six foot square iron grate in
the rear of their elaborate store
rooms, the same is connected with the
furnace in the basement beneath, mak-
ing it a most superb retreat for cur-
iosity seekers, more especially on the
nights berdering on zero weather con-
ditions. The habitual hangers-on are
usually in evidence. Debating is one
of their principal amusements, while
toasting their shins. I am not an ha-
bitual loafer, but occasionally call in
in order to be enlightened in the news
of the day.
On a recent evening while present,
a young philosopher Rr anal the
following proposition: What is the
most profitable business to engage in
to make a good and quick profit with
a limited capital?” It only required
about ten minutes, when all agreed,
without a dissenting voice, that boot-
legging, beyond question, is the ideal
business to produce the desired re-
sults, since the investment is small
and the profits immense. Moreover,
it appeals to the suckers. This being
disposed of, the next question pro-
pounded was: “What is the most dis-
agreeable and objectionable business
one can engage in?” After some lit-
tle debate and skirmishing it was
agreed that the boarding house mis-
tress occupies the most undesirable
business known to mankind. I rather
concurred with the emphatic conclu-
sions.
Think for a moment—what nerve it
must require to sit at the head of th»
table, surrounded by a lot of miffy,
sullen boarders; chatter cheerily,
smile sweetly, and pour the coffee
without a tremor of the hand, while
one is turning up her nose at the bis-
cuit, another snarling at the toast,
another shoving the butter out of
sight as though it offended her olfac-
tories, another whispering hateful
things loud enough to be heard, and
others finding fault with the meal as
a whole. The ordeal is a trying one,
been well raised and are - sensitive.
The lady who goes into the boarding
house business for pleasure as well as
profit is liable to be badly left, espe-
cially on the pleasure.
Yes, the boarding house mistress
stands next to the mother-in-law as
an object of abuse, and, if her stories
are to be credited, she is deserving of
great pity. Therefore, itis but a
christian act to interpose a word in
behalf of this useful factor in the
community. It can be seen what a
boon the boarding house keeper is to
society. She has, as it were, the hap-
piness of countless young men and
women, maids and bachelors in her
hands. The amount of domestic trou-
ble and misery she thus controls is be-
yond computation. The boarding
house, as an institution, belongs to the
more advanced stages of civilization.
The boarding house mistress is un-
know to the savage, and does not fig-
ure to any great extent in the history
of the middle ages. In this respect,
she is more fortunate than her co-
sufferer, the mother-in-law, because
she has existed as an object of abuse
ever since polygamy was tobooed.
Just here a hint may be dropped for
the benefit of the mother-in-law. The
polygamous husband, who has half a
dozen or more wives, each blessed
with a mother, is the meekest man th
the world. He might be bold and
abuse his wife, if there were only one
mother-in-law to face, but when half
a dozen or more loom up before his
mental vision, he concludes that meek-
ness is more profitable than mastery.
The modern “hash singer” is a pos-
itive necessity of the times. Without
her many thousands would be without
the comforts of home. It is true there
might be many more homes than there
are, yet thousands of. young men, and
old ones, too, would be driven to the
cold confines of bachelor quarters.
Women who have no homes of their
own, would be compelled to quarter
themselves on some relative or friend,
whether it was agreeable to do so or
not. This would have a tendency to
drive them into the marriage fold
merely for the sake of getting a home,
which is a calamity.
She is not happy. Why? Because
she is not appreciated. Those who are
indebted to her and ought to be her
friends and defenders, are often her
traducers. They find fault, not only
with her table, but with her style;
criticize the color of her hair as well
as the tinge of the butter; complain of
the order in which she serves meats,
as well as the order she maintains in
the house. She surely has my sym-
pathy.
SENSIBLE CLOTHES FOR MEN.
Whatever may be said of the oddi-
ty, the daring, or what not of the ex-
treme fashions affected by the women
nowadays, it is generally admitted
that their clothes are more sensible in
the matter of affording freedom of mo-
tion and immunity from those ills
which resulted from the tight corsets
and trailing skirts of an earlier gen-
eration. And now that so much has
been accomplished toward improving
the health of the women a man arises
to demand that his sex adopt sensible
habiliments also.
Dr. Thomas
Darlington, former
Commissioner of Health of New York, |.
insists that the health of men is be-
ing seriously endangered by their
present style in dressing. He inveighs
particularly against tight and uncom-
fortable collars, belts that interfere
with the digestive tract and other or-
gans in the abdominal cavity and
against the habit of swathing the
body in too many layers of clothing.
He would abolish the vest altogether,
as an outworn relic of past ages, and
if he could have his way he would put
all his brethren in one-piece suits. The
trousers would be much as they are
now, but from the waist up there
would be complete reform. The coat,
shirt and vest of modern man would
blend into one garment, a loose,
blousy thing.
So far the good doctor is reasona-
ble enough, but he goes a little too far
in some of his designs for office and
evening wear. He even recommends
gay colors which would make the rush
to the office in the morning, or to the
shooters’ parade. :
It might be possible to lead a re-
volt of male humanity against tight
and uncomfortable clothing, but it
will be difficult, indeed, to make men
don some of the gaudy trappings this
earnest reformer recommends. Yet
there is much sense in Dr. Darling-
ton’s observations, particularly his
recommendations for hot-weather
clothing. The summer would be the
best time to try out his ideas, and if
he is quite as much in earnest as he
seems he would be doing his fellows
a real service by blossoming out in the
new fashions himself.
MUSIC WEEK JURGED
IN PROCLAMATIONS.
Various State and City Executives
Assist National Celebration.
A series of official proclamations,
both State and municipal, and possi-
bly resulting eventually in a national
proclamation, is promised on behalf
of the National Music Week, May 3
to 9. For the first national observ-
ance, last May, proclamations were is-
sued by the Governors of Massachu-
setts, Ohio, Arkansas and Hawaii, and
by the mayors of a large number of
cities. This action was taken before
the movement had assumed the.pro-
portions represented by the nearly
800 cities which participated last May.
It is therefore expected by the Nation-
Music week committee that a great
many more States and cities will be
represented by proclamations for next
May. Already, the Governors of Ill-
inois and Mississippi have agreed to
issue a proclamation. The texts of
last year’s proclamations are repro-
duced in the “History of National Mu-
sic Week,” issued by the National Mu-
sic Week committee at its headquar-
ters, 45 West 45th street, New York
City.
America has 50 per cent. of the
world’s lumber production—also an
absolute corner on accidents.
ti ifi ost
opera at night, look like a New Year's PY Sooriiee mush or
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.
" DAILY THOUGHT
A good laugh and a long sleep, the best
cures in the doctor book.—Proverbs of
Ireland.
Don’t wear high-heeled shoes for
house work.
Get measured for each new pair of
shoes. Every make of shoe is not alike
as to size.
If your shoe allowance is small,
don’t be persuaded into buying unusu-
al shades of shoes that require expen-
sive stockings to match them.
Consider your ankles before you
buy nude and other light-colored
stockings to wear with light shoes.
Remember if they are inclined to be
thick they will look their thickness in
this setting.
Day-time collar and cuff sets are
done in a variety of linen and cotton
materials. According to the New
York Times, very showy ones are
made of plaid and checked gingham
with quite deep over-cuffs to match
the collar. The colors are very smart
in blue, rose, orange, mauve on white,
and many lovely mixtures are shown.
Besides the ginghams in patterns are
the pretty chambrays in plain colors.
A new solution to the problem of
Crowns in women’s spring hats has
been found, according to radiogram
information from Paris, Maria Guy
has found it, and it has taken the
form of a round, close-fitting crown,
at the centre top of which has been
placed 2 smaller circular effect some-
thing like the lid of a can, This elon-
gates the crown and gives it an at-
tractive finish.
“When the hat is made of satin,”
comments The New Millinery bulletin,
the official organ of the Retail Mil-
linery Association of America, “this
circular ornament is also of satin.”
On her Riviera sport hats of straw
braid Guy makes this smaller circle
of grosgrain ribbon in the same tone.
he varies the silhouette of the crown
sometimes by placing this ornament 2
bit off the centre-to , slanti
bi oF th DP, slanting toward
How she did laugh at me—the
friend whom I ran across at the de-
partment store hardware counter.
Buying shears for pruning shrubs
and roses!” she cried. “Why, winter
1s not half over yet.” Yet she herself
was wearing a smart silk and straw
toque, unmistakably a 1925 model, and
she was quite peevish when there
were no fresh strawberry sundaes to
be had at the soda fountain.
All flower lovers, especially those
with gardens (large or small) are
hoping that Mr. Groundhog will dis-
play a sporting disposition to come up
to expectations for an early spring.
In that case, roses may be pruned in
late February. This job should never
be delayed after-March, regardless of’
weather. So there will be plenty of
work within 2 Jov weeks for pruning:
shears, even though ice and snow sti
blanket the bony sn
Not all types of hardy shrubs should
be pruned in spring. The beginner
must be very certain that she is right:
before going ahead. “Ponder before:
you prune” is a good motto. The
whole secret of successful pruning:
may be summed up as follows:
“Bloom early—prune late.
Bloom late—prune early.”
. Spring-flowering shrubs, and these
include our greatest favorites, must
never be trimmed back until after
blooming. After which, if pruning is
necessary, the sooner it is done the
better. Of course, dead wood should
be removed on sight, irrespective of
blooming season. The delicate beau-
ty of flowering shrubs is marred if
unsightly, naked branches are thrust
upward amidst the masses of white or
rosy bloom.
The following shrubs (all early-
flowering) must never be pruned in
spring:
Forsythia (golden bell), Pirus Jap-
onica, Juda’s tree, sweet shrub, lilac,
mock orange, dogwood, pink and blue:
Japanese or French hydrangeas, vi-
burnum (snowball), dentzias of all
types, weigelia, bridal wreath with all
other shrubby spireas, flowering crab
and almond. These bushes flower on
wood made last season, consequently
to prune off that wood now would be
this season's crop
of bloom.
The funniest sight (if it had not
been maddening) in our garden some
years ago was the giant lilac bush,
which had pruned in early
spring by a strong-armed but green
amateur. The towering branches in
the centre were too much even for his:
determined muscles, so in May the
ravished lilac flaunted central waving
plumes as on a giant’s helmet, sur-
rounded by a dense thicket of barren,
upright stumps.
Prune severely in March such late
flowering shrubs as altheas, which
bloom in August, and Hydrangea
Paniculats, with its huge cones of
white bloom, which later turn to
pinky-green. These favorites will
flower on the new wood to be produc-
ed this season, consequently they re-
quire early pruning to allow full {ime
to mature their blossoms.
BOALSBURG.
Mrs. Ralph Rockey and son visited
friends in town on Tuesday.
George C. Meyer, of State College,
was in town on business on Monday.
William Mulbarger, of the Loop,
greeted friends in town on Tuesday.
Mr. and Mrs. Morrow and baby, of
Sinking Valley, were visitors in town
last week.
Edward Isenberg and family, of
Milesburg, spent Sunday at the Chas.
Isenberg home.
My. and Mrs. Jacob Felty, of Altoo-
na, spent the week-end with the Hess
and Jacobs families.
Mr. and Mrs. Zeigler, of Shingle-
town, moved into the Markle residence
on Main street, last week.
Elmer Houatz and family moved to
Bellefonte this week and Mrs. Hig-
gins and daughter will occupy the
Kimport home on west Main street.
Mr. and Mrs. Earl Philips, of State
College, were in town last week and
while here rented the house vacated
by Lester Brouse, and after April 1st,
will become residents of Boalsburg.