Bema ia
= Bellefonte, Pa., July 2, 1926.
pm
AMERICA FOR ME.
»is fine to see the old world and travel
up and down
Among the famous palaces and cities of
renown;
To admire the crumbly castles and the
statues of the kings,
But now I think I've had enough of an-
tiquated things.
So it’s home again and home again, Amer-
ica for me! ;
My heart is turning home again, and
there I long to be—
In the land of youth and freedom beyond
the ocean bars,
Where the air is full of sunlight and the
flag is full of stars.
Oh, London is a man’s town; there's pow-
er in the air,
And Paris is a woman's town, with flow-
ers in her hair,
And it’s sweet to dream in Venice, and it's
great to study Rome,
But when it comes to living there is no
place like home.
1 like the German fir woods, in green bat-
talions drilled;
1 like the gardens of Versailles, with
flashing fountains filled;
But, oh, to take your hand, my dear, and
ramble for a day
In the friendly western woodland, where
nature has her way!
1 know that Europe's wonderful, yet some-
thing seems to lack.
The past is too much with her and the
people looking back,
But the glory of the present is to make
the future free—
We love our land for what she is and
what she is to be.
Oh, it’s home again and home again,
! America for me!
1 want a ship that's westward bound to
plow the rolling sea.
To the blessed land of room enough be-
yond the ocean bars,
Where the air is full of sunlight and the
flag is full of stars.
—By Henry Van Dyke.
SHOES.
The sign, swaying lazily in front
of his tiny corner shop, bore a simple
legend. “Tony—A Five-Cent Shine,”
it read, in letters that were black and
even and a foot high, in letters far
more impressive than the owner of
the shop! For Tony was a slim little
man, with hair that curled crisply
away from a boyish forehead, with
eyes that were as wistful as the eyes
of a stray puppy and as warm as
old wine. A slim little man with
hands that were forever grimed with
the colors of his trade, and with an
English vocabulary as limited as it
was necessary! A man lonely for the
blue skies and vivid sunshine of his
native land—who worked on the dust-
jest side-street of a dusty city with
only voiceless dreams for company,
with only a vague desire for com-
panionship as his ambition.
And yet—though he was a wistmul,
unimpressive little man—one felt a
certain rare quality, a certain splen-
did appeal, in Tony’s smile. A smile
that was ‘given freely and often to
those who were his daily patrons, and
to those who came only once. To the
folk who tipped an extra five cents,
and to the folk who did not tip. When
Tony smiled, he became a poet. He
became something fine and unexplain-
able—but with a blessed rhythm, an
almost musical cadence, about him.
Dull work, it might seem—the pol-
ishing of shoes. But there were few
dull times in Tony’s day. He had,
you see, the gift of imagery. He
liked to wonder where the shoes of his
customers came from and where they
would go. He liked to guess what
paths those shoes would stumble over,
what waltz tune would guide their
dancing moments. It was with a be-
coming reverence that he imparted to
a new pair of slippers their first pol-
jsh. It was with a serious pride that
he made a worn pair of oxfords glim-
mer with the phantom of youth!
Many kinds of shoes came over the
threshold of Tony’s tiny shop. The
stolid shoes of business men. The
gay shoes of little chorus girls. The
sensible shoes of busy housewives.
The silly shoes of the butterflies of
life! Shoes that were bought with the
pennies of toil and privation and sac-
rifice; shoes that had been purchased
with the crimson coin of shame and
tears. The shoes of a city—with its
comedy and tragedy, its joy and its
throbbing heart-break! :
Oh, many kinds of shoes came into
Tony’s shop! Shoes that needed care
and shoes that needed consolation.
And to every pair of them Tony gave
a bit of himself, a fragment of his
soul. Smiling ever his cheery smile.
Repeating always his English form-
ulae:
“Ni-ce day, yess?” he would say.
And then, “You want ’em dark—
yes?” (If they were tan shoes.) Or
“You want ’em high polish—yes?”
(If they were black.) And then,
when the shoes were finished:
“There, these are done! You like
“em—yess? Thank you—ver’ much
oblige. You come nother time—yess 7”
And he would pocket the nickel—
or, if the customer were generous, the
‘I’m that sore.
only when he glanced up from the
shoes, with his usual friendliness,
that the voiceless dreams became real.
That they were crystallized into a
crying, tremulous, throbbing certain-
ty. It was only when he met the
glance of the girl’s eyes—pansy-col-
ored, discontented, tiredly impersonal
—that he forgot pity in another, more
poignant emotion.
Love at first sight? Yes—it comes
even to the Tonys of the world!
Comes shyly, but with a breath-tak-
ing suddenness. As the man rubbed
the paste into the shoddy leather—
deftly, with a thumb and forefinger—
he was wishing inarticulately that his
hands might make easier the way
those slender feet must tread. As he
applied the brush, the last dingy,
flannel cloth, his throbbing heart was
lying upon the floor at the girl’s feet.
When she rose, with a movement so
tired that it fairly ached, from the
bootblacking chair, he stumbled ahead
of her to open the door. And felt
strangely ashamed to accept the worn
nickel that she proffered him. She
did not give him a tip, but her imper-
sonal eyes became a trifle more aware
of his existence when he bade her the
customary farewell. And—
“Qh, I'll come again,” she told him
good-naturedly though listlessly.
“Some night when I'm too dog-tired
to black my own shoes I'll come
again. You've done ’em real pretly
—made ’em look just fine,” she sighed.
“An’ you didn’t have much to work
on, neither.
It was a week later that she came
again to the corner shop. More wear-
ily than she had come the first time,
if anything. With the throbbing
scarlet of her mouth set, like a wound,
against the pallor of her lovely face.
Seeing her, Tony realized that the
shoes he had been shining of the past
seven days had been only ghost shoes.
And that, when his hand touched her
broken little slipper, it was as if a
flower were blossoming in his soul.
“You want ’em high polish—yess?”
he questioned—as he always question-
ed.
And the girl answered. “Say—if
you kin make a high polish on these
here,” she told him, “you’d oughter be
paintin’ scenery for the opera!”
As she spoke she laughed. It was
an ugly laugh to fall from red lips.
Tony, at her laughter, felt a sudden,
unexplainable fear clutch at his heart.
He worked silently, never raising his
glance from the cracked, sorry shoes,
but without looking he knew that the
girl’s head was leaning back against
the wall, that creamy white tds were
drooping over her eyes. Almost when
his task was finished, he found the
high courage to refuse the nickel she
proffered in payment. Almost—but
not quite. But the smile he gave her,
when he spoke his customary “Thank
you—ver’ much oblige—" was so ten-
der, so full of understanding, that the
girl returned it with a swift, nervous-
ly radiant glimmer of mock happi-
ness.
“Say, kid,” she said, as the smile
died away, ‘you oughter be a host at
one of these here night clubs. You
got that welcomin’ personality—"
So—quite as a matter of course—
the girl became one of Tony’s regular
customers. Drifting in once—maybe
twice—a week. A flame-like figure,
despite the shabbiness of the blue.
serge she always wore. With feet as
lovely as lyric rhyme notwithstanding
the broken gear that covered them.
And as she became a regular custom-
er, Tony began to learn about her.
That she worked for a pitifully small
wage in the bargain basement of a
cheap ' department store. That she
was alone in the world. That some-
times she was about ready to toss a
coin as a way of deciding between
gas and the river. Only se usually
didn’t ‘have a coin to toss! That an
occasional shine, a more occasional
soda. and a once-a-week visit te the
movies constituted her only bits of
luxury.
“Not that you know what Im
sayin’, Tony—"’ she remarked ouce:
when she and the little bootblack had
the wee shop to themselves. “Not
that you get me a-tall—being a wop
an’ not understandin’ th’ English lan-.[
guage. But, say, a girl's up against
it in this man’s town. When she ain’t
got no people of her own—an’ when
th’ only boy fren’s she can have are
th’ sort she don’t want! Honest,
Tony, when I see some of th’ women
that com’t my counter in their fur |
coats an” di’‘mend rings! Say, I could
pretty near scratch their eyes out,
Fat dames mostly,
Dames that |
with near blonde hair.
san’t be pretty even in furs an’ di’
monds.” She laughed mirthlessly, and
then, “Don’t think I enjoy wearin’ |
everlastin’ shiny serge,” she cried, |
“an’ these—"
A passionate movement of one slim
foot disclosed the sad little slippers—
a passionate movement that was al-|
most a kick and just missed Tony's
nose. Tony wished he hadn't jerked
his head back instinetively. It would
have been pleasant to be hurt, even,
by her! :
For Tony, during the weeks
which the girl had become a patrom,
had come to understand that she re-
garded him much as one regards a
dumb animal, or any article of fur-
niture, of a machine. As he knelt at
her feet in a grotesquely adering at-
titude, he realized that she never had
thought—and doubtless never would
think—of him as a man, as an indi-
vidual. Though he knew that she
dime—with his all-embracing smile.
It had been so for a year—a year
made busy and quite profitable and
nearly romantic by the hurrying feet
of the world—when She first came in-
to the tiny shop. At the close of a
dark day she came, with drooping
shoulders and a step that spoke of
undisguised weariness. A slim girl
with a white face and a tremulous,
scarlet mouth. With a small haad
crowned by so much heavy, twilight
hair that one felt it to be a burden.
A girl whose blue serge frock was
shiny with too steady wear, whose
shoes were cracked and broken and
sad. Tony’s first thought, as he sur-
veyed those broken shoes, was one of
inarticulate pity. For the feet in
them were slender and gracefully
modeled—too pretty, those feet, for
the wearing of shabby things! It was
seldom had a square meal, he also
knew that if he gave an invitation to
dinner, she would laugh—the ugliest
of all her laughs—and flounce from
his shop, never to return! If he of-
fered theater tickets as a humble
gift, he knew that her scorn would
flick like a lash across his soul. For
he was Tony, the man who shined her
shoes. Her confidant, perhaps—but al-
so her servant . .. ..
There were some shoes that Tony
liked to shine, shoes that belonged to
people he admired and respected. But
whenever the man called Hampton
came into his shop, Tony felt a creep-
ing sensation of distaste. Somehow
he hated to clean the shoes of Hamp-
ton, even though Hampton was one
if his most regular and liberal cus-
tomers! Even though Hampton were
Hampton, could you give a feller »
in 2
aroma of expensive cigars and oer-
Tony could not analyze his dislike of
| the man. But it flared into a sud-
| Hampton, swaggering into the sop,
selves and looked away quickly, vith
' more than a shade of an emotion hat
‘to the polishing of Hampton's sted-
| topped boots,
im
When the
spell words both vertieally
Thus No. 1 under the column headed
S11 the white spaces up to
under “verti
tionary words, except proper mames.
terms and obsolete
HOW TO SOLVE A CROSS-W
correet letters are placed in the
and horisontally.
indicated by a number, which refers to the
Black one below. No letters go in the
ORD PUZZLE
white spaces this pussle will
‘The first letter in each word is
definition listed below the pussle.
“horizontal” defines a word which will
the first black square to the right, and a number
cal” defines a word which will fill the white squares to the next
black spaces. All words used are dic-
Abbreviations, slang, initials, technical
forms are indicated in the definitions.
CROSS-WORD PUZZLE No. 4.
8—Watering place
11—God of love
12—To subdue
14—Negative
16—Curved entry way
18—Comparative of bad
19—To jump
21—Platform
23—Augur
24—Mohammedan call to prayer
26—To peruse
28—Church bench
30—Doctrine
32—Filth
35— og wheel
39-—Preposition
41—To attract
43—Sixteen ounces
45—To arrest
47—1To become fatigued
49— Woody plant
30—To chafe
54—Auditory organ
55-—Leather strip
57T—A fruit 59—Note of scale
80—Disembarked 62—Kind of apple
64—Periods of time (abbr.)
65—Shams
34—Sun god
37—A circle
52—Arrow
| [23 [45 6 |v 1 8 [9 [10
1(111VF%3 M2 1 [23
14 |15 [26 17 [MMTE3
19 2.0 21 22 23 M
24 25 [= 27 23 29
30 = 31 | 32 33 I 34
35 36 117 33
39 |20 [[[TM41 42 43
45 [46 47 43 [M49
50 51 52 53 [[TMEZ
5. 56 57 58 59
«0 61 [Mez 63
6% 6S
ETT TT,
tons do Rl md bn PETRI)
over 2—You (archaic)
3—Brother of a religious order
4—Master
5—Boy's name
6—Printing measure
T7—Uncooked
8—To divest
9—To bother
10—Part of “to be”
' 3—To weep
15—To exude
17—Hastened
20—Sharp paim
22—To embark
25—-To require
27—To let fall
29—Nomads
31—Sour
33—To blow a whistle
36—A foray
38—Unadulterated
40—-A person of violent temper
42—To encase
44—Not distant
48—To build
53—The darnel weed
55—Crafty 56—Energy (slang)
58—Hastened
61—Physician (abbr.)
83—Bachelor of science (abbr.)
46—Scorches
. 51—BEvil
Solution will appear in next issue.
EE AE
different leathers. Even though
Hampton was appreciative of the
smallest effort. Sometimes he came
alone— this Hampton— sometimes
with a friend. Attired, usually, in
well-tailored suits built of some gro-
tesque check. Wearing almost al-
ways the = gayest of cravats. he
friends that came with him were def-
erential. It was, “What’d you do in
this here’ jam, Hampton?” Or “Say,
slant on th’ fourth race they’re pul-
Always they asked his ¢pin-
on.
Perhaps it was the narrow, white,
well-manicured fingers of Hampton
that Tony so cordially loathed. Per-
haps it was the way he had of sim-
ultaneously narrowing eyes and lips.
Perhaps it was the flashing stone that
he wore in his tie—the other sone
that sparkled upon the third firger
of his right hand. Perhaps it was the
fumed hair oil that clung to lim.
den hatred on that dum evening when
Solution to Cross-word Puzzle No. 3.
B{O|U NID BE|Y|S
HARP AV C
Eff sia lVIEDJRE[H
¥ AGC G0
A : Zz
IB ADEN EiL
s[iNGslHAB IT
SiH |; , > Lal LR
HAY CAL TIO.
AD ClO|S’ FAIR
TERP| | AN IRS
TIAEL BE[!
Again the girl’s lashes fluttered up.
“1 don’t do a lotta dancin’,” she an-
swered bruskly. a
Hampton laughed. He managed—
with a sheer touch of genius—to put
a flattering note of unbelief into his
laughter. “You don’t!” he repeated
after her. “Try an’ tell me that a
tricky kid like you ain got a door-
seated himself in the chair nex: to
| Tony’s only other customer—the Girl.
And fastened his eyes—bold eyes all
‘at once narrowed and speculatie—
upen the bit of ankle that showed be-
tween the blue serge hem of the girl's
skirt and the worn tap of her shoes.
And—though the girl did not seen to
be aware of Hampton, Tony kiew
that she was. For she did not alk
to him as she wont to talk. And ince
her eyes fastened themselves upon the
flashing stone that shone upon Hamp-
ton’s white hand. Fastened then--
might have beem fear.
‘When: the Girl’ had hurried avay,
and Tony had turned almost sulkily
the man spoke.
“Some that, eh Tony?” Le
could be genial! “She wouldn’t bk s0
bad if she was dolled up a little an’
fed up a lot. Know where sie
works?”
Tony applied the liquid polish vith
a vehement splash. He was glad thit
'a drop of it found lodging upon the
suede top of an ornate boot. “No”
he answered untruthfully. “I donot
know where she work. An’—he atded
thiis last with dark, somber eyes up-
on the face of the questioner, ‘she
e—es not a cheekain—see ?” ‘
Hampton laughed easily. “The all
are, Tony—” he said softly.
Tony found it hard to pocket the
quarter from which Hampton waited
no change.
The first time Hampton spoke to
the Girl—and she answered hin— |
Tony saw red. The leashed pagion
of his hot-blooded ancestors madeaim
long for a knife, strong, keen,and
swift, insteady of the sticky bush
that he held in his hand. Andyet
Hampton, desipte his narrowed {yes,
said nothing offensive to the girl,
“Tony gives a nice shine, don’t le?”
he asked.
The girl answered with an uprard
flutter of long, dark lashes. “Hesure
does,” she admitted. : |
Hampton was silent for a motent.
And then: “I reckon you come ere
pretty often?” he questioned. “2kid
that does a lot of dancin’ an’juch
many different pairs of shoes made of
needs a lotta shines!”
step fulla Valentines waitin’ fer a
kind word!” {
A flush dyed the girl’s pale cheeks.
“Say, looker here,” she told Hamp-
ton angrily, “I aint got no feller—-
see? I don’t hold much with these
drugstore sheeks. I'm straight—see!
That’s why I wear th’ kinder shees I
do. These ain't shabby on account
of fox-trottin’.”” She held out for in-
spection the shoe Tony had finished—
the shoe encasing: so meanly her love-
ly foot. “Theyre all shot t’ pieces
standing eight hours a day behind a
counter.”
Hampton’s eyes were more nar-
rowed than ever, but his voice came
gently whem he spoke. “Poor kid,” he
said simply’ “Poor ki ”
That was all. But Tony, with 2
strange sinking: of the heart, acknowl-
edged -the man’s cleverness. For
y y though the girl’s cheeks were rather
questioned genially—and Hamjton
deeply flushed, she was no longer an-
gry.
Aftexr that they talked together
often, Hampton and the Girl. Of
many things—of motion picture stars
and baseball heroes, of horses and
clothes and the theater. Hampton
came into the shop every night quite
eagerly—and he always came alone.
No longer did he bring with him an
ingratiating, derferential friend.
(Continued on page 7, Col. 1)
Better Than Pills
For Liver Ills.
You can’t
feel so good
but what NR
will make you
feel better.
RUNKLE'S DRUG STORE,
mir AWE A ae i A gn mms i +
679,410 Draw Pensions.
There are 679,410 veterans of the
World War wholly dependent upon
the German Government for support.
They are so badly maimed or diseased
that their earning capacity, if any, is
less than 25 per cent. of normal, In-
cluded in the total are 1150 women,
chiefly former Red Cross nurses.
me
{ The War Ministry says 65 per cent.
i of the incapaciated were more than
| 30 years old when they entered the
| service. Nearly 20 per cent. are now
past 50.
—The ironble with the easy-going
fellow is that he doesn’t always know
when to stop.
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