Bellefonte, Pa., February 11, 1927. A TS SSAA, THE SPOILED CHILD. Wen Gran’-pa takes me on his knee I'm just as glad as I kin be; ’Cause he’s the bestest friend I got, An’ in his pockets they’'s a lot Of candies, sugar cakes an’ things Like dear ole Gran’-pa always brings. An’ he'll say: “Now, my little dear, Let's see w'at’s in this pocket here; And I put in my hand and take Some candy out or else some cake. ’Nen Gran’-pa laughs, an’ so do I; He'll play he's s’prised an’ say: “0! My! I wonder how that got in there, Now w’at do I git fur my share?” I laugh, an’ climb right up an’ kiss Him where his tickly whiskers is. He hugs me tight, an’ sez: “Oho! Here's just the goodest boy I know.” An’ I am good as I kin be Wen Gran’-pa takes me on his knee. When Papa takes me on his knee I ain't so glad as I might be. He ain't as nice as Gran’-pa wuz, For he don't do like Gran’-pa does. He on’y does it w'en he's mad, An’ wen he sez I'm awful bad. He don’t like Gran’-pa’s “carryin’s-on."” Fur onct wen Gran’-pa’d been an’ gone He told Ma: “Say, it drives me wild The way your Pa jist spiles that child,” An’ ‘nen he maked a grab fur me An’ upside-downed me on his knee, An’ says, “Now if its’ in the wood I'll see if I can’t make you good.” An’ w'en Pa let me off his knee I promised him how good I'd be. ~~By T, A, Daly. ef ema rr— COMPLIMENTS OF MISS MAR- SHALL. On a crisp forenoon in October last year a smart, shrewd-looking, hand- some young woman, dressed for the street got on her knees by the closely curtained window of a room in one of those humble little old fashioned brick boarding houses in West 22nd street, New York, and peered through the inch of space at the bottom of the shade. Across the street she saw a slouchy youth lurking in a doorway, “Still on the job!” The girl put a knitter’s bag on her left arm, picked up a packet of letters and let the curtain run up. Standing against the window, she examined these very carefully, counted them, opened her bag almost against the window glass, put the letters into it and turned away. A minute later she left the house, walked east without hesitation, but almost half a block away put her foot on a doorstep, bent over to arrange a shoelace and watched under her arm. The slouchy youth leisurely followed, occasionally scratching his head. “Two of them trailing me today ? That scratching looks like a signal.” She walked on as though unconscious of pursuit. At Broadway she got into a crowd, was jostled rather violently, felt a slight pull at her bag and, ly its sudden loss in weight, guessed that some one had taken the letters. She made no outcry, went on carelessly and took a car uptown. - The slouchy young man was on the rear platform. At 34th street she went into a large department store by the main en- trance, almost immediately came out of a side door, crossed the street and disappeared into the escalator of tie elevated road. From the platform she watched the slouchy shadow look around in all directions, at loss what to do or where to go. “Easy enough!” In a downtown train she examined her bag and found it had been slit oepn. “Clever sleuths!” she remarked. At cortlandt street she took the tunnel to Newark. There she entered the office of the Essex Safe Deposit Company and paid a year’s rental for a box in the name of Miss Ethel Ed- wards, Closter, N. J. She was taken down into the vault, given two flat keys, a japanned box for her treas- ures and was ushered into a private compartment, where she carefully closed the door and unfastened her waist. She drew up from her bosom a chamois bag, took from it an en- gagement ring, a diamond brooch, a pear] ring and two papers. The first was a license from the State of New York dated some three weeks earlier for the marriage of Anna Marshall and Staats Livingston, both of New York City, filled out, signed by both parties and countersigned by the prop- er authority, a perfectly good mar- riage license. All these things, letters, jewelry and license, went into the Japanned box. The last paper she read over twice. It was dated a week later than the li- cense and read: Dear Nan, You will be surprised to learn that by the time you get this I will be on 2 steamer bound for Europe. You were so determined on every kind of regularity, even after we got the li- cnse, that I decided maybe you were right in saying I ought to tell Uncle. Well, I did last night and there was a fierce time. I fought all I could for you, but he wouldn’t hear of an im- mediate marriage. Finally he put it up to me that I should go abroad and not see you for six months and then if I still wanted to marry you he would not object. You can guess I jumped at that because I know I can trust you to wait that long and you know my love for you will never change. Of course, all sorts of jobs will be put up on us to break up our love, but we know each other and know all such jobs will be flat failures. I am not going to look at a girl in Europe and I hope you will have only my face be- fore your eyes in New York. So this is good-by, Nan, for six months, then I will come home and we’ll be happy together forever. Your loving STAATS. She kissed the letter lingeringly and put it with the others. The clerk un- locked the ponderous door, studied her face a moment that he might know her again and bowed her out. Perhaps I should stop here and tall ere is no need, however, for she is not different from two or three thous- and other young women making their living on the stage. Pretty? Yes, but so are the other two or three thousand. They have to be pretty. She is an Irish type, black hair, blue eyes, pinkish cheeks with the color paling and brightening; no doubt about that color being born with her, though you might be suspicious, see- ing her moist, carmine lips and her carefully trimmed eyebrows. Oh, well, even pretty girls think they can jolly nature and this is a tiny jolly. You might note her mouth and eyes, matching each other in humor and shrewdness. A genial heart, a clear brain, no end of courage, a good fig- ure, a pretty face—Nan Marshall. At the door of her boarding house she glanced across the street and saw another man, a stranger, in the shad- ow of the opposite doorway. “A new one on the job. I certainly got a horse on old Staats today.” One look told her that, while ab- sent, her room had been ransacked. She paused in dismay, then locked the door. “Who was in my room ?” she asked the landlady. “Your father said he had left some papers with you.” “Ah, then it’s all right. to have had quite a search.” When the woman had gone she thought it out. “They’ve got him on the job! Merry days ahead!” A heavy step, an uncertain step that stopped now again, sounded on the stairs, a knock at the door and a mumbling voice “Let me in, Nan, I want to talk to you.” He was shabby, bleary-eyed, yet with the remains of swagger and as- surance. With good clothes, clean linen, money in his pocket, without wiskey in his blood, Jim Marshall could still make a figure- in certain circles, He sat and lighted a cigar- ette. As he smoked, the thumb and forefingers of his right hand, resting on the table, seemed to be lifting and setting down stacks of something, playing with invisible counters. “What’s this I hear of you and young Staats Livingston?” “Nothing much, except we’re engag- ed to be married.” “Marriage? Marriage? Old Staats Livingston’s nephew and heir! Mar- riage! Some say the old man’s worth twenty millions, some say forty mil- lions.” He drew in his breath with relish. “You see, Nan,” Marshall continued, “we can make quite a decent roll right now by calling everything off. Still, I don’t know but what the old man would come down harder after a mar- riage than before.” “How much have they offered you?” Nan snapped this out suddenly and bent over to see its effect in his face. He started. “You were in here hunting for pa- pers. You didn’t find them, did you? How much did they offer? Come on, Dad, the price!” “There’s a cool twenty-five hundred in itR At this she got up and walked to the window, turned back and laughed. “Youre holding out or else they think you're an awful piker. Twenty- five hundred! On the level, what did He seems they offer? Come on, give it to me straight.” “Is it fifty-fifty, Nan?” “Sure.” “Well, it’s five thousand, then.” “Oh, Dad, do you think I'm worth only $5000? Listen. Go back and tell them that five thousand won't do. Not five times five, and that’s twenty- five thousand.” “Twenty-five thousand dollars won’t do,” he said in a low, awed voice. “What’s your price, Nan?” “They’re not for sale.” “Don’t be a fool, Nan. Do you think for a moment they will let the daugh- ter of a broken-down old sporting man like Jim Marshall marry a young mil- lionaire like Staats Livingston? You haven’t a chance now.” “Why, not?” she cried angrily. “Is there anything against me? Ain’tI as good as any of them? Ain’t I edu- cated? Didn’t I go to the convent for three years when you were rich and had your string in the old Morris Park days? I know I was only a kid then, but the influence has stuck all these years.” “You’re all right, Nan. You're all right. Don’t get excited. You said you got a license. Why didn’t you get married right away?” Why? I don’t know, except he wanted it on the quiet some place 1 didn’t know anything about, and I wouldn’t have it anywhere except in public in a church. Besides, I thought he ought to tell his folks. He didn’t want the license first, afraid it would get out, but I stuck for having every- thing on the level when he started.” The old man groaned. “You've mussed it all up. Why didn’t you put me on? Now they've got the boy out of the country and it’s goodnight.” “I'll wait till he comes back.” “He’ll not come back till they've done you up. Don’t be a fool, Nan. They’ll frame up something on you, drag you into court, smash your repu- tation and then what good are your letters and your license? You'll never get a cent.” “I don’t want their money. I want him. We want each other.” “Better give it up, girl. This fellow Staats is one powerful guy, and he’s out to stop this match and you haven’t a show against him. Let me talk to his people and fix it up. He'll be lib- eral. He'll stand for the limit. Where are the letters?” Her father’s words were no surprise to the girl. “They’re not for sale.” “See here, Nan, if you think I’m go- ing to be choused out of $5000 when the money is right in my hand because a fool girl thinks she is in love, you have another guess. I want those let- ters.” “You won't get them, Dad. You need’t threaten. I'm too old to be beaten, and you know you can’t bully me. When the time comes to deliver, I'll be the one to deliver.” “And I'll get my cut?” “Oh, sure,” she said, wearily, “you’ll | get your cut.” you something about Nan Marshall. | Beworraic atc, | went downstairs and peered out of the hall window before she opened the door. The new shadow was in the usual place. At the corner a black- mustached chap with heavy features suddenly stood in front of her, turned back the lapel of his coat and reveal- ed a shiny shield, which he immediate- ly covered again, and said in a hoarse whisper: Story No. 3. “The chief wants to see you. Come quietly and there won’t be no fuss.” “Am I under arrest?” The fellow hesitated. “Not exact- ly, but if you don’t come quietly it will be an arrest. Take it easy and it will be over in a moment and no harm done. Come on, I have a taxi. The girl shook her head. “Nothing doing in the taxi. I’ll go in the cars or else you’ll have to make it an ar- rest.” “All right. Come on.” The streets were crowded. The home rush had begun. Nan e near a policeman with his back to the sidewalk, touched him on the arm. “Officer,” she said, “will you kindly tell me if this man is a policeman? Has he any right to take me with him?” Officer O’Brien turned to look, but the fellow was gone. They saw him dart into the crowd and dodge behind a car. “I thought he was a faker,” she said as she told the policeman how he had accosted her and of his invitation. O’Brien was all admiration. “Say, you're one wise little bird, all right. What’s he after?” Just papers.” “A movie?” “No,” she laughed. “It’s real life. O’Brien reported this at the station. He stopped Nan the next day. “Why don’t you go down to the sta- tion and have a talk with the captain? He'd like to hear your story.” Nan’s heart drummed. The police were to take a hand. She looked about her desperately. “Don’t be a’scared,” said O’Brien. “You can trust the captain. He’s on the dead level with good girls. H’es got three daughters of his own.” So Nan went to the station and told the captain the whole tale and her fear of a “frame-up.” “Huh!” he grunted when she had finished. “There’ll be no frame put over on you in this precinct. Want some advice? You do? Go down to old Staats Livingston’s office and have 2 showdown. In a tight place there's nothing like a showdown.” Nan felt this was good counsel. The strain had begun to worry her nerves. She found Livingston’s address in the telephone book and wrote him a letter: Dear Sir: I have been to the police for protec- tion against your detectives. They ad- vise me to see you personally and have a showdown. I'm not going to give up Staats or his letters or our marriage license, but I am willing to carry out all your conditions of waiting and not seeing him or any other condi- tions. TI’ll make him a good wife. Yours truly, ANNA MARSHALL. Twenty-four hours later she receiv- ed a typed note in the third person re- questing Miss Marshall to call on Staats Livingston at the same address on Broadway to which she had writ- ten. At the door of the office she hesi- tated. There might be treachery, but | the halls, she noticed, were full of peo- ple moving about; the crowded eleva- tors went up and down as regularly as rods in a piston; attendants were everywhere. It would be safe. She entered a large outer office and, giving her name, was ushered in immediately conducted through several smaller of- fices and suddenly left on the thresh- old of a small room where an old, white-haired man was sitting before a soft-coal fire in a grate. Fifty years before Staats Livingston had begun his business life in a three-story brick building on this site with such a fire burning in his office; and when he put up a modern skyscraper, with steam veins and electric arteries, he gave orders that in his own room there should be such a grate and such a fire. bare shrubbery and white gravestones of Trinity Churchyard. “Come in, Miss Marshall.” He stood up and welcomed her to a seat beside him. Perfectly straight : he was, with a ruddy, weathered face, contrasting strangely with his hair. “You wrote me about my nephew,” he said, inviting her to begin. “I think it’s up to you to do the talking.” : He leaned back in his chair and looked at her, amused. “You wish to marry my nephew ?” “He wishes to marry me and would if you had not shipped him to Eu- rope.” “Ah! Europe!” He seemed to be studying some- thing in the fire. Suddenly he looked up. Nan liked the expression of his eyes, though afraid she was soft clay in his hands. “Perhaps the situation is more com- plicated than you think. I wish you would give me your version of the af- fair from beginning to end. I may not know it in all its bearings.” So Nan told him the whole story, how she objected to secrecy and had suggested the appeal to him for con- sent. “Miss Marshall,” he said, “I am go- ing to ask you a question that you may not like to answer. You are on the stage and they say many things about young women on the stage. Can you stand at the altar and marry an honorable man and look him straight in the eye at the same time?” The girl’s face flushed. Her eyes blazed. “That's an insult,” was on her tongue, when he held up his hand and stopped her. “Forgive me. Don’t answer, Miss Marshall. Your eyes have answered.” Tears came into Nan’s eyes. She grasped his hand, but his next words sent her heart down like lead. “Do not cherish hopes too high. It is very complicated.” The detectives vanished. A week later Nan received another letter from the old man asking her to call at 11 The window looked out on the | matter might be arranged. She was i at his office on the stroke of the hour. | Livingston welcomed her in his usual | solemnly courteous manner. He gazed i through the window at the bare ‘branches and the white stones and the beautiful temple rising out of them. If the girl could have read that old, world-experienced mind she would { have known that he was still working on his amusing problem and trying to guess at the solution. “What is going to happen this morning, Miss Marshall,” he said “may appear theatrical, but I think it "will be best for all concerned. We are all to have a—showdown!” i He touched a button on his desk. | A door opened and a bright, beautiful, (young woman, about Nan’s age, with every mark of the wealthiest simplic- lity in her air and costume, came in land stood by Livingston. was anxious, haughty, contemptuous. “Ethel, this is the young woman. Miss Marshall, Miss Allerton.” the introduction. Nan gazed wildly. She felt in a trap. Who was this girl of wealth and station? What was this humorously solemn old man preparing for her? “Sit down, Ethel.” “I prefer to stand, Guardy dear. This is very trying and very distaste- | ful and I think unnecessary. I hope it will be over soon.” “Please be seated, dear. I am act- ing only for your own sake. Your father was my dearest, my only friend. I promised him to look after you | against all the world, and 1 will keep | my word even if it should be against exactly the kind of man you are tak- ! ing when you marry Staats.” i Nan started. This was the explana- tion. She was a sacrifice. That pow- The girl turned her face away from ' Late in the afternoon Miss Marshall ! the next morning, when the whole | convent; yet the rich refined girl had | guessed the real situation when she first heard the story, while the sense | of it was only now coming to Nan. To Miss Allerton, it was clear, this was a connection of bachelorhood which had jg Staats into trouble. She had heard many stories like that about | | young fellows, and old fellows, too, in i her circle. It was very disagreeable | that her guardian had projected her {into this sorry and sordid situation, | but he always had queer, old fashion- ed notions about honor and chivalry {and playing the game and seemed to think now that it was his duty to show her a page of Staats’ private life. he thought this would lead her to give up her marriage he was mistaken. All this time Nan had said not a word. Her early sorrow for his de- ception of Miss Allerton changed into a hot anger as she saw what he had Her 1ace | intended against her, and how he had | even tried, to the length of a license, to lure her and how when he had fail- ied he had invented the story of his uncle’s opposition and then had had her trailed and planned trickery to get the evidence of his treachery. She came to herself as she heard Miss Al- erton say: “If Staats has made a mistake, he is willing to pay. How much do you want 7” “Staats,” she cried in a whisper. “It’s up to you. Is there an expla- | nation 7” | Silence. I “Yes, it is for Staats to end this,” said the old man. “Staats, which of these young women do you wish to make your wife?” { “Not me!” cried Nan. | “I’d sooner » my own blood. Ethel, you must know marry a convict!” | She turned on Ethel Allerton, look- ed at her slowly and laughed in her face as she pointed to him. | “You take him!” she said. “You’re If | - FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN. DAILY THOUGHT. { Give with kind words. | Possess knowledge without pride. ! Be merciful as well as just. | Be liberal in proportion to your wealth. The Old People’s Valentine Club ! was, in faet, an anomaly, as it was | composed of five young girls of a small country town. Its purpose, how- ever, was, according to the imposing constitution, “to bring into the lives of the old some touch of the romance {and sentiment of other and earlier Valentine days.” Each girl pledged valentine or some {sort to five aged persons of her ac- { quaintance, and to submit her list to | the club at large, so that there should { be no conflicting and so that twenty- five different persons might be remem- bered. Early in February the newly form- ‘ed club held an exciting business | meeting, at which all sorts of valen- tines were displayed. The most inter- i esting part of all was the comparing of valentines and the revelations of character made by the differences be- tween them. Practical Elsie had, as usual, thought first of the utility of her val- entines. She had chosen five old ladies from the Home for the Aged, from a list given her by the matron. To each she presented a small woolen shawl, to which was pinned a card bearing simply the words, “To my Valentine.” Anna, the domestic, “stay-at-home” girl, had devoted herself to cookery. For each of her valentines she made a large heart of hard, old fashioned peppermint candy, on which, in choco- | late, were written the recipient’s name and the date. She had discovered that among all the club there were just |five grandparents, and “by permis- sion,” as she said, they made up her | herself to send a erful old man had come between her rich and can afford the breed. I know list. and her love and was forcing upon young Staats, his ward whose “Guardy dear” revealed their relation. | “I think I do know,” said the girl. “You have told me all this woman’s story. You seem to believe her. I do not. Even if true, we know that good { men like Staats are often trapped by designing——" Nan sprang to her feet. “When Staats comes back from Eu- rope——"" Nan had hardly got this far when Miss Allerton laughed. “You see, Guardy, she does not know. Staats has evidently been try- ing to get loose from her. I do not need to stay any longer, do I? There is nothing more ?” “Just a moment, dear.” The button on his desk summoned another clerk. “He has arrived ? the other door.” A moment later that door was open- ed and young Livingston stood in the room. “Staats!” Nan sprang to her feet with a glad cry and held forth her hands. Miss Allerton went over to his side. could be no doubt of her right of pos- session. Nan tried to catch his eye and read there that he would explain, take her by the hand and proclaim her. Not- withstanding the other girl’s attitude by her lover’s side she did not suspect treachery or baseness. Perhaps he was feeble for the strong will of his uncle. The youth slunk into a chair. Miss ! Allerton put her hand on his shoulder, ; She was trying to strengthen him for {the conflict and she had the position of vantage. Nan was the struggling | wrestler seeking to break a hold. { The old man’s voice broke the tens Iby; “There are four of us here, my nephew Staats, my ward Miss Aller- i ton, Miss Marshall and myself. I have thought it best to have this sit- uation settled privately and to have leach of us know where the other | stands and especially that you, Ethel, might choose with your eyes open.” A showdown without a doubt! “There is no need to restate the facts. We all have spoken except Staats. It is for Staats to speak.” Show him in by Miss Allerton. “Why should we be ' compelled to listen to this common woman’s story? I should think you would rather call in the police and give her up as a blackmailer.” ‘said the old man. “When Miss Mar- ' shall came to me with her story I was | strongly tempted to do as you sug- j gest, but I had her story investigated and her story is truth. You see what a very complicated situation arose. { I did not think we would care to thresh I that out in court.” | “Then pay her price and send her | away!” | Nan stood again. Old Staats went to her side, asked her to take her seat. “The trouble is, Ethel, that Miss Marshall refuses every price.” “What does she want?” “I want Staats to tell the truth!” cried Nan. . “Yes, let us have the truth,” repeat- ed Livingston. “Let’s have all the truth. It is true, Ethel, that some one has conspired against Miss Marshall, that she has been tracked and trailed, that her handbag was cut open, that her room was ransacked, that offers of large sums were made to people near her for the license and the let- ters, that an attempt was made to lure her to some office where she might be searched. She thinks I did all that, I never heard of Miss Marshall till she wrote me.” He turned toward Nan and spread an accusation. He seemed more of an interested spectator than a participant in the game, “I feel sure,” the old man continucl, “that Staats can throw some light on these transactions.” “Say nothing, Staats,” commanded Ethel. “The woman will use it against you.” Miss Allerton was a New York girl reared in an atomsphere supposed to be very pure and very clean, an at- mosphere very different from that of cabaret dancers and broken-down sports in cheap boarding houses where Miss Marshall had spent all her life except for the few years in the quiet “Staats will say nothing,” cried “I had thought of that at first,” out his hands in deprecation of such | the breed but I did not think he be- longed. You seem to like him. ‘Take { him! Compliments of Miss Marshall!” | Nan swept to the door. man held it open with deference. i “You come out of this with honor,” he said. “I wish you all the happi- | ness.” “Thanks. I believe you’re on the level yourself.” So she went out, and she never saw one of them again. The New York newspapers had many interesting details of Ethel Al- They missed this one. of the ceremony, package by express from Newark, N. J., containing an engagement ring, a brooch, a pearl ring, twenty letters to “Dearest Nan” and a marriage license. On a slip of paper were the words: “FOR THE BRIDE —COMPLI- MENTS OF MISS MARSHALL.”— By R. A. Farrelly. The morning { Tree Planting by Community Effort. | Suitable tree planting along public highways, which greatly enhances There | their appearance and comfort, is most ! ‘satisfactory done by the community as a whole rather than by individuals, says the United States Department of | Agriculture. Interest in country high- ways in the United States has increas- i ed rapidly during the last few years. | The greater interest in rural roads is ‘due largely to the growing automo- bile traffic. a large part of which is pleasure driving in which the most beautiful routes are naturally sought. While a few States have good laws providing for such planting, the re- mainder have either indifferent ones or none at all, according to Farmers’, { Bulletin 1481-F, “Planting the Road- side,” just issued. | The traveling public has as much interest in the appearance of the road as a whole as the adjoining property holder. Furthermore, it is usually difficult to get each property holder to approve and act on a given plan. For these reasons, says the depart- ment, it is best to place the planting and subsequent care of roadside trees iin the hands of a public body repre- ‘senting some such division as the State, country, town, township or par- | ish, rather than smaller units. Because of the intimate relationship between road construction and main- tenance and the upkeep of the road- side, the closest co-operation between the highway department and those (having the trees in charge is needed. Suggestions relative to planning for i the trees, planting and spacing them, 1 kinds to plant, pruning, arrangement ‘of shrubs and perennials, and other phases of the work are given. A copy of the new publication may be obtained free, as long as the sup- i ply lasts, upon application to the Unit- ‘ed States Department of Agriculture, Washington, D. C. Curing and Fermentation Applied to Vegetables. There is a distinction between “cur- ing” and “fermentation” as applied to vegetables treated in brine. Curing refers to the changes which vegetables undergo in brine as a result of osmosis by which brine largely takes the place of the vegetable juices, with result- ing changes in cellular structure. | Fermentation relates to the action of | certain bacteria in changing the sugar {content of the vegetable juices into acids and other end products. In a weak brine (5 per cent. or less) bac- teria are mot inhibited and the proc- ess is largely a fermentation. In a moderately strong brine (10 per cent.) both processes go on about equally. In a strong brine (15 per cent. or over) bacteria are inhibited and the process is almost entirely a salt cur- ing. Wide Highways Protect. Because of the ever-increasing num- ber of automobiles in the United States, and partly because of traffic disscusions of the 1926 convention of road builders at Chicago, wider high- ways are being adopted throughout the nation as a means of safeguard- ing the lives of motorists and reliev- ing traffic congestion, S. T. Henry, newly elected vice president of the American Road Builders’ association, states. This will please those motor- ists riding about on Sunday. The old , lerton’s marriage to Staats Livingston. i old Staats received a t Florence, the artist of the group, had secured photographs of all her old people—all more or less distant relatives—and colored them. She then passepartouted them, and presented , them, being careful that none should i receive his or her own portrait, but i should get that of a favorite compan- ion, now, perhaps, far away. Frivolous, lovable Grace vindicated her title of “the flirt” by devoting her- | self entirely to five old gentlemen of her acquaintance. For over a week | she had been busy with antique al- manacs, fashion books of 1850, lace ! paper, gilt paper, beading and water colors in an endeavor to make an ex- act reproduction of the valentines of their youth. She had succeeded beau- { tifully, and it was hard to believe that her valentines really were the product of half a century later. Winnie, by far the poorest girl of the group, had done—or rather, would i do—the most beautiful thing of all. | She had assiduously hunted the woods { for the first signs of spring, and had . been rewarded by a whole armful of | “pussy willow.” This she had divided | into five sections, each tied with a bow | of narrow red ribbon, to which was attached a card bearing a merry val- entine greeting. She had planned her j work so as to spend all the afternoon of February 14 in the local hospital, and devote an hour to each of the aged i persons there, leaving her gift as a | memento of her visit. That visit was i sure to prove a success, too, for who could he at once so witty, so entertain- ing and so tender as Winnie? All the other valentines were sent anonymously, a small brother being paid five cents each by the girls to de- liver them. Each gift was wrapped and addressed as daintily as possible, even the handwritting being disguised to add to the pleasant mystery and ex- | citement of it all. That Valentine’s Day was one loi:g . remembered among the old folks of X—. Many a long dead memory was revived, and many a man or woman grown almost indifferent toward the old members of the family suddenly resolved to form a Valentine Club of his or her own. Meanwhile, the work of the original Valentine Club stili goes on, though several years have passed since its foundation. DECORATIONS FOR THE VALENTINE TABLE. For a round table an effective decor- ation is a huge centerpiece of red roses at eich corner to serve as mats for slender candlesticks of silver with deli- cate hand-painted shades surmounted by in shape of a heart, and similar hearts cupids. Between the corners are silver ben- bon dishes or baskets filled with iced cakes and bonbons in heart and dart shape. Where the silver holders sure not forthcoming, baskets are easily shaped from cardboard and covered with silver paper. As a souvenir at each plate have a heart of red roses for the girls in a silver paper quiver, and a boutonniere of the roses for the men made em- blematic by a silvered dart run through them. A pretty canopy decoration is made by running gilt cord from the chand- elier to the edge of the table so that a plate comes between every two ropes. To these suspend dangling paper hearts in various sizes and hung by different lengths of the cord. The tone of these hearts should correspond to the table decoration, which is quite as often pink as red -on Valentine’s Day. In the center of the table should be a low bowl of pink or red carna- tions set on a round glass mirror edged with smilax. A somewhat novel centerpiece is 2 doll dressed as Cupid and carrying = big floral umbrella to escape a showe: of valentines that fall upon it from the chandelier and lie heaped on the cloth around Cupid’s feet. These valentines are hung by very light wire so thin as to be almost invisible. Al are addressed and at the end of the meal are claimed by the guests. Great fun are rhymed valentines composed by the hostess for eact guest and specially illuminated by her or, if her artistic skill is wanting written or plain note paper, aroun which is pasted a border of narrow rec hearts. These are sealed in the usua Valentine envelope with its printec designs in white, and are addressed t. gach event at the place where she i 0 sit.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers