A ..c ie
Bellefonte, Pa., September 9, 1927.
THE STORY OF LIFE.
Only the same old story in a different
strain;
Sometimes a smile of gladness, and then a
stab of pain 3
Sometimes a flash of sunlight, again the
drifting rain.
Sometimes it seems to borrow from the
rose its crimson hue;
Sometimes black with thunder,
changed to a brilliant blue;
Sometimes as false as Satan, sometimes as
Heaven true.
then
Only the same old story, but oh, how the
changes ring!
Prophet and priest, peasant, soldier and
scholar, and king:
Sometimes the warmest hand clasp leaves
in the palm a sting.
Sometimes in the hush of even, sometimes
in the mid-day strife;
Sometimes with dove-like calmness, some-
times with passions rife,
We dream it, write it, live it—this weird,
wild story of life.
—Boston Transcript.
ANTOINETTE AND AUGUSTA.
Since the day Augusta was born,
Antoinette Harper had lived only for
her; lived for her as an infant, as a
little girl, as a schoolgirl. And then
Augusta’s father died, and Antoinette
was a young widow. And some way,
everything was suddenly different.
James Ponsonby Harper had been a
somber man, and sixteen years older
than his wife. She had been eighteen
and: he thirty-four when Augusta,
their only child, was born. And now
Augusta herself was eighteen, and
her father had been dead six months.
Antoinette had been happy, as far
as she knew, with Augusta’s father.
She had loved him affectionately, re-
spected him, looked up to him. James
Harper had just the right sobering
effect on Antoinette, her parents had
said, through all their married life.
And naturally then, when he went
away, the sobering effect went with
him. Every one was astonished at
what happened, and Antoinette her-
self was more astonished than any
one else. It was as though James
Ponsonby Harper had been a piece of
chiffon hung between his wife and the
world, not hiding her, but dulling her.
And when the piece of chiffon passed
from before her, all the colors of her
personality shone out like a brilliant
painting unveiled. Every one was
startled to see how blue her eyes
were, how golden her hair, how red
her lips, and how full of life her
words.
“Antoinette!” her mother exclaimed
when they were going out together to
a bridge party one afternoon. “don’t
sparkle so. You are dazzling!”
Antoinette turned to her, a bright
picture under her new hat.
“You look so lovely,” her mother
continued. “But can’t you quiet down,
only a little? You are positively
radiant.”
Antoinette looked hurt, like a child
who has been scolded by mistake.
“My darling,” her mother tried to
speak casually, “I want you to be
happy, of course. But—James—such
a short time ago. Oh, forgive me!”
For her daughter had burst into
tears. “I know,” she sobbed. “I
loved him. I did love James. But,
Mother—I can’t mourn.”
The words were somewhat shock-
ing. Antoinette’s mother was a sen-
sible woman, and a modern woman,
too. After all, she thought, why
should she not be thankful her daugh-
ter was happy, and was so young-
looking at thirtv-six, and so pretty?
After all. why should she trv to crush
her daughter into the world’s idea of |
a widowed mother?
Antoinette raised a tear-stained
countenance that weeping had only
made more beautiful. There was
something about her round, girlish
face that made her mother think of a
bough of rain-washed apple blossoms
against a blue sky.
“But, Mother, why am TI like this?
Why am I not like other,” she hesi-
tated at the word “widows” and said:
“Why am I not like other women
whose husbands have gone? T am so.
ashamed to look happy. And it is not
onlv the wav I look but the way I
feel! I feel like something suddenly
let free. My heart dances like some-
thing golden—like those snring daffo-
dils out there.” Her head dropped into
her bent arms on the hack of the
chair.
Her mother’s voice was full of short
breaths. “Perhaps it is all my fault,
mine and your father’s she said. “We
—we thought an older man like James
Harper would sober you. And perhavs
it was—not natural for you to be
sober.”
_ Antoinette was hot with indigna-
tion. “But I loved James. I loved
him dearly. I chose to marry him
myself.”
“Yes—you chose him, yourself.
But, Antoinette, now that Augusta is
grown up, you must realize that a
mother can sometimes influence her
daughter about men.”
Augusta grown up! Of course, the
young girls nowadays were very
sophisticated, but her daughter grown
up? Was life as short as that? She
caught at her mother in a panic.
“Tell me, am I old ?” she cried. “It
seems only yesterday Augusta was
learning to walk. Is life—so short?”
Her mother was still a vivacious
and life-loving woman herself. Her
eyes were very wistful. “Life is, my
dear, very short,” she said. Her voice
hesitated, then went on. “Antoinette,
I saw Jimmy Brown kiss Augusta
yesterday.”
Antoinette drew back, startled.
“You are sure it was Jimmy?”
“Yes.”
Antoinete’s reply was slow, as
though she were making a discovery
for herself word by word as
she spoke. “But Mother,” she said,
“Jimmy Brown is only a year younger
than I am! I still like—young people
the age of Jimmy Brown— myself!”
Tangled in her own thoughts, she
became silent, staring out at the win-
dow with perplexed, introspective
eyes.
“And I try so hard to mourn.”
Her mother was quite still a mo-
ment. Then she smiled, and her voice
was easy and light. “Of course, you
still like young people,” she said.
“Why shouldn’t you? I think it is
right that you should.” And she stood
up to hide her startled eyes. “Why
Antoinette, the .ruth is, you have
never had a chance to be a young girl
yourself. You were only eighteen
when Augusta was born.”
“Jimmy Brown doesn’t
young to me.”
“He is not so young,” her mother
answered. “He is much too old to be
about with Augusta. You must tell
her so at once, and tell him.”
“But,” Antoinette was struggling
to understand something in her own
mind, groping for a clew to that
strange empty feeling, as though
something had knocked the breath out
of her. “But, Mother—I can never
explain to Augusta about Jimmy
Brown.” .
“Why, of course, you can. She is
better with younger boys—Harold
Warren, for instance. She has always
been friends with Harold.”
“But, after all,” said Antoinette,
with bent, puzzling brows, “Jimmy
Brown is only seventeen years older
than Augusta, and my husband was
sixteen years older than I.”
Her mother went to the little dress-
ing-table and began tucking her hair
neatly under the brim of her hat.
“Dear me, Antoinette, we are ever so
late. We must be going.”
As they stepped into the car at the
curb, a tall, dark girl came hurrying
down the walk, chatting with a com-
panion. The tall, dark girl was Au-
gusta.
“Mother,” she called, “I'm going for
a ride with Jimmy Brown.”
“No,” prompted Antoinette’s mother
in a whisper.
“He asked you to go too, Mother,”
added Augusta, “but I see you are off
already to your party.”
Color flowed surprisingly into
Antoinette’s face. “Isn’t Harold War-
ren coming out this afternoon?” she
temporized.
“I’ve put him off until next week.”
“Then go with Jimmy Brown, of
course.”
The motor whirred away, leaving
the two girls looking after it.
“Do you think Mother is beautiful ?”
asked Augusta, speculation and ad-
miration mixed.
“Yes,” was the ready rejoinder.
“And she simply fascinates every
man, and she doesn’t even know she
does it! All the young college boys
just hang on her words. Harold War-
ren is right, Augusta, when he says
you will never be able to get married
with your mother in the house—
unless you take him. It’s some situa-
tion to have such a stunning mother
SO near your own age.”
“Near my own age? How could a
mother be near her daughter’s age!”
Augusta replied, visibly nettled.
But the companion did not notice
Augusta’s irritability. She giggled.
“Well, she is.” she said, “and you will
soon look older, being so dark, and
she so fair.”
Then, after a while, the girl said
slowly, “Augusta, do you suppose it
is _a hard situation for your mother,
too—¥ “mean, having you?”
“Don’t be foolish,” Augusta an-
i swered. To tell the truth, the idea
had never entered her head before.
“Mother wouldn’t—why, Father has
only been—why, I don’t know what
you mean!”
In the warm dusk Augusta came
home with Jimmy Brown. Antoinette
had been an hour before them and had
waited a little nervously. But when
the two came laughing into the yel-
{low light of the sitting-room, all the
| vague apprehensions of the afternoon
‘ faded, and the three of them were as
| merrv together as though they were
‘all of an age.
“You'll stav to dinner, Jimmy?”
Antoinette asked.
When he hesitated, she threw the
long silk scarf she was wearing in a
loov over his head.
“Come, Augusta, we will drag him
| to the dinner table,” she laughed; “he
shall not escape.”
Then self-consciously, half-way
down the hall to the dining-room, she
realized it was not Augusta who was
“dragging” him. Augusta, in fact
was hanging back, and there was a
little questioning, uneasy look about
her eves.
At the expression of her daughter’s
face, Antoinette dropped the ends of
the scarf. The scarf seemed to burn
her fingers as the blood suddenly
burned her ears.
“Oh, you children tire me out,” she
said, catching at something tactful
to say. “An old woman like me can’t
take part in your foolish games.”
“Old woman like you!” Jimmy ex-
claimed.
pep of this flapper,” he mocked,
throwing the scarf over Augusta’s
head and drawing her toward him.
“There, there,” Antoinette called,
catching both ends of the long, bril-
liant length of silk, with their two
heads knocking together in the loop
of it, “I'll drive you both along before
me.”
The maid had set a third place at
the table without being told. And,
still puzzled with the thoughts of the
afternoon, Antoinette realized that
the maid had sufficient reason to do
so, for Jimmy Brown was just as
often there to dinner as not. She
hadn't ever really thought of it be-
fore, cne way or the other. His
presence at the table had bridged over
many a difficult moment since she and
Augusta had been alone. She had ac-
cepted him gratefully, with never a
thought as to how he came, so persist-
ently to be there.
Of course, now that the subject had
been brought up, she saw his pres-
ence in a new light. Naturally he
was there to see Augusta. Augusta
had so many beaux. The house fairly
swarmed with boys still in college,
with young men out of college and
trying their hand at business for the
first time, and there were even occa-
sionally, men in the middle thirties,
like Jimmie Brown.
While her husband was living, and
especially on account of his being
older and sober, Antoinette had always
made it a point to keep the house
merry for Augusta, to encourage her
young friends, both boys and girls. It
had never occurred to her, through all
these years, until today, that perhaps
seem SO
“Why, you've got twice the |
she encouraged these young people
just as much for her own pleasure as
for Augusta’s. But now, in a flashing
revelation, she remembered a remark
one of Augusta’s friends had made a
few days ago, a remark at which
every one had laughed at the time.
But now in this new way of looking
at things, the remark no longer seem-
ed amusing. She recalled the exact
words:
“Augusta, you certainly are out of
luck with such a good-looking mother!
Every man who ever comes to see you
will fall for her! And as for Jimmy
Brown—"
Every word of this came back now
to Antoinette as she sat looking keen-
ly at Jimmy Brown across the table
from her daughter. He was explain-
ing some new scientific invention.
Augusta was not attentive. She was
not interested. In contrast to his
earnest absorption in his subject
Augusta did look like a little school-
girl. She was obviously hungry, and
all the worldly-wiseness of the girls
of her age had given place, for the
moment, to a particularly appealing
greediness. Antoinette, who knew
every expression of her daghter’s face
so well, who read every faint. half-
formed line, could not see her as
grown up. however, much so in out-
ward appearance it was the custom
of her set to be. Perhaps Augusta’s
contemporaries, perhaps the real flap-
pers were grown up, but not Augusta.
To her mother now she was so evi-
dently but a young girl masquerading
in sophisticated clothes and a sophis-
ticated vocabulary.
And Antoinette, watching them, was
quite sure that Jimmy did not see
Augusta as grown up, either. His
family had lived in the house next
door since before Antoinette was mar-
ried. He was a big boy of seventeen
when Augusta was born. He had
helped her to school the first day she
had ever gone to school. He had
teased her, spoiled her, and even
spanked her. And now he still looked
was big, over six feet, and forceful,
and was not talking to Augusta as to a
person his own age. He was talking
to her as to a child, as though he were
—Antoinette puzzled over the exact
feeling his manner conveyed to her—
as though he were some one older—in
her family. But that Augusta was
misinterpreting his manner was also
quite plain. To sharpened eyes it was
evident that Augusta thought Jimmy
Brown was in love with her!
gusta a thing like this? For there
was a vague, shadowy reason in her
own mind that would seal her lips on
this subject. Of course, if she were
absolutely sure either way, she rea-
soned, it would be unavoidable to
speak. But how could any one ever
be absolutely sure about such a thing
—auntil it had been said. And when
it had been said. it was too late to
speak. Yet, if Jimmy did not con-
sider Augusta grown up, if Jimmy did
not come here to see Augusta—and
she was certain he did not—then
whom did he come to see?
And as she asked herself this ques-
tion definitely, his eyes chanced to
turn from Augusta to her. And in
their change of expression she read
her answer surely. He had beautiful
eyes, steady and dark, with little
flecks of golden light in their depths.
All this she noted, and then unexpect-
edly she was discomfitted at his glance,
and let her own eyes drop. A wave
of confusion swept her. She was
astonished. She thought of Augusta’s
father. There was a quick mist of
tears before her eyes.
After dinner, so she could be alone
to think things out, she sent Augusta
and Jimmy to a motion picture thea- |
tre. And she sat staring at the dusky
opening of the window into the sum-
mer night.
“I'll never be able to tell Augusta
this,” she could only say over and
over to herself.
Through the long night that fol-
lowed she lay awake and made her
plans. She and Augusta would go
away somewhere. They could go to
Europe for a year, perhaps. Then she
need never try to tell Augusta this
baffling, complex thing about Jimmy
Brown. While as yet there was really
nothing to tell, they would go away—
and then there never would be any-
thing to tell.
But events moved too swiftly be-
vond her planning. For what are
human plans, when human life itself
is but a shadow on a sundial ?
It was the next midweek that she
found Augusta crying alone in her
room. Antoinette had come home un-
expectedly early from an engagement,
and half-way up the steps to her
room, she heard Augusta. She listen-
ed a moment before she dared to
move. Augusta was crying with long,
heart-broken sobs. It was a terrify-
ing sound.
“Augusta,” her mother cried,
stumbling up the steps and throwing
open the door into her daughter’s
room.
Augusta sat at her desk, her face
buried in her crumpled sweater
sleeves. At sight of her mother she
made an effort to control her grief.
“What is it?” Antoinette begged,
bending over Augusta’s slim, hipless
figure. “What is it?”
In a quick frankness Augusta did
not answer in words, but pointed to
the picture of Jimmy Brown on the
top of the desk. And her head went
down into her shielding arms.
What could he have done to make
Augusta cry like this? Why hadn't
she taken her mother’s advice and told
Augusta everything?
“Jimmy Brown!” Antoinette ex-
claimed. “I will send him packing.”
Augusta raised her head, entirely
startled out of her sobbing. “Mother.
won’t you just please keep out of
this!” she demanded.
Antoinette’s face went white, and
there was a queer sinking feeling
about her heart, as though she were
going to faint. “I will keep out of it,”
she said. “Since you ask me to, I
will. But what did he do to you to
make you cry like this?”
Augusta dashed her head up, her
eyes ruddenly hard. “Oh, he didn’t do
anything. It was what he said.”
“But, Augusta, after all, you are—
Jimmy is——you can’t take seriously
what Jimmy says, because you are so
much younger than Jimmy.”
How like her father Augusta look-
ed, so quiet and sure! “I am the same
age you were when you were mar-
ried,” she said. “Every one thinks I
am old enough to marry Jimmy— ex-
cept you and Jimmy.”
Her dark eyes logical and under-
standing, Augusta looked certainly at
this moment to know her own mind.
What if she were right? Antoinette
realized that she herself was now the
one who was crumpled and unsure.
“Every one thinks you are old
enough to marry Jimmy—except Jim-
my and me?” she repeated question-
ingly after her daughter.
“But Jimmy doesn’t want to marry
me, and that’s that,” Augusta said.
Yet Antoinette could see the light
of evasive questioning in her daugh-
ter’s face. She could see that one
word of encouragement would make
that hope flare up. For who is not
willing, even those who are many
times older and wiser than Augusta,
to believe what they wish to believe,
if only some other person will give
credence to the lie?
As she stood there, looking down
‘upon her daughter's dark head, all
the possibilities of the situation re-
viewed themselves
mind. She was clearly conscious that
she herself had been robbed, in a way,
of her youth at the proper time. And
now, here, for her—for her or her
own free will to take or to leave—
was another chance, a chance to take
the love of a young man, to take the
love of a man her own age, her own
temperament, whom she believed now
that she had always cared for in an!
unacknowledged way, and who had
i probably always cared for her also in
i the same way.
I And as for Augusta, she was yet so
young—she would have many
‘chances. But she herself would have
no other chance—this was her last
chance. Should she then tell Augusta
the truth and take her own last
chance? Or should she lie now and
give Augusta the chance?
| She remembered how Augusta’s '
quite a generation older than she. He
weeping had sounded from the stair-
way. The sharp memory of that
sound decided her, decided her against
logic, against reason, against fairness
itself; she knew she would never do
anything to make Augusta unhappy.
What her daughter wanted she would
! should like her more, that was all.
Then, after he did, after he had learn-
ed to love Augusta, what she was
e a lie—then it would be the truth.
She stood up, so young-looking and
pretty, above her dark, sober daugh-
ter. “Why, I don’t doubt that Jimmy
Brown would want to marry you,” she
said. “He may not have thought of
to in time.”
I “Snce I was three years old IT have
expected to marry Jimmy,” Augusta
| said. “I really can’t remember any-
i thing else. But he has always been
‘so much more important than I, so
jmuch older. Sometimes,
| just lately, Mother, I have even
| thought it was you he liked.”
| Antoinette turned away.
| “But, of course,
| now.” Augusta hastened to add. “But
| everybody does say you are so pretty,
Mother. And—now that we are
: speaking of it—I want you to know
‘I am not old-fashioned in my ideas. I,
women do marry
| know nowadays
' again—"
| Antoinette was making it very
{awkward by not replying. And al-
i though she understood that Augusta |
{ was trying with difficulty to clear up
| for them a situation beyond her years
she |
{and experience to understand,
| could not bring herself to speak.
i There was no doubt in Antoinette’s
mind from that day on. She knew
what her daughter wanted And she
i felt she was able to get it for her. As
to influencing Jimmy Brown, did not
. mothers every day angle for suitable
. matches for their daughters? She
‘felt in her heart that Jimmy was but
clay to her fingers. It did not occur
'to her to question her right to mold
‘him to suit her wishes, to suit Au-
| gusta’s wishes. What mother but has
‘thus leagued herself with her daugh-
‘ter, tacitly even if not openly! And
how many, who knows, against their
‘own hearts also?
: have done the
! many have taken their own chance
instead!
After this decision, there followed
another, and many another night of !
Antoinette.
| Over and over in her mind she revolv-
she |
| wakeful planning for
ed the situation. There was,
| thought, only one way out, only one
. way to make sure that Jimmy Brown
| would cease what she thought was
only a helf-conscious interest in her-
| self, and turn to Augusta. But that
{way was a trap for her. Yet, if it
i were really a trap, had she not been !
| trapped ever since Augusta was
i born? Was the only way out for her
{to be only Augusta’s mother, to seek
i no life for herself? Since her prefer-
| ences, her tastes, her interests clashed
| thus strangely with her daughter’s,
she must give them up. She must
drop back with the people who had
she must get older quickly, cultivate
older tastes, feel older, look older, be
older! As well as she could she threw
of the depression of such thoughts
and sat about her plans to make Jim-
my Brown see how charming Augusta
really was.
Concluded next week.
Cultivate Good Mind.
Worry produces indigestion and
dyspepsia; the gastric juices are not
formed. Hate thoroughly, and you
will be a martyr to neuralgia. Be
voilently jealous, and the upset to the
glands sows the seeds of cancer. Be
malicious and cruel, and you'll get
neuralgia. Be a fault-finder, a nag-
ger, a scold and asthma comes. It is
impossible to disconnect the mind and
the body. An ill thought doesn’t stay
in the mind; it hits the body some-
where. It has been noted that ex-
treme disgust will produce catarrh.
It is not always possible to ward off
external causes of disease, but we
ought to be able to control our minds.
Poison in the mind means poison in
the body—suffering, and a shortening
of life. Have a “good” mind, and
youn have good health.—London Tit-
its.
in Antoinette’s |
get for her, as far as she could. Jim- |
{my Brown liked Augusta already—he '
going to tell Augusta now would not |
And how could Antoinette tell Au- |b
it much at this minute, but he is sure '
especially |
I see differently :
And how many
opposite—how very
been her husband’s contemporaries, |
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.
DAILY THOUGHT.
Don’t give a rap when they chaff with you;
Don’t care a snap when they laugh at
you.
Every idea the world ever gained.
Was scouted and hooted and jeered and
profaned.
The multitude never takes stock in a no-
tion
Until it’s established or plainly in motion.
The price of ambition is heavy with hurt,
You can’t find a new way to fashion a
shirt,
Build ships, houses, motors—make pepper
or light,
Witheut finding millions to say it’s not
right.
They'll check and retard you and dis-
count the facts.
They'll sneer at your blue-prints, your
models and tracts.
They'll bruise and abuse you until you
succeed,
But they’ll pay your own price, when you
have what they need.
Copyright, 1917, by Herbert Kaufman,
Great Britain and all other rights reserved.
The grand coutouriers, the little
dress-maker of Paris, have had their
openings. The much-talked-of, elab-
orately hidden secrets are out, and lo,
fashions have changed but little!
line is modified here, a bit of pleat-
ing gives new irregularty to skirts,
everything is softer, a little lacier, a
trifle more feminine. But there is a
development, rather than a revolution.
A more general fulness is one of
the important changes that have made
the new frocks so delightful to see
and to acquire. Plaits no longer
march in steady line about skirts,
but form interesting groups of
threes and fours to break up the
plainness and the straight lines.
Pleats have decreased in numbers and
increased in originality. Pleated
ruffles swirl up at one side.
Closely related to the plait motif is
the fulness that is gained by a flutter- |
ing jabot, a silken cascade, a flowing
bit of drapery, or the allure of float-
ing angel wings. Jenny softens the
side of an afternoon frock with a
length of sudden fulness.
Bows, after a tentative season or
so of doing duty holding sleeves to-
gether, or fluttering hither and yon
on dresses, become enormous, and
loop themselves nonchalantly where-
‘ever they find a bit of silk that is at
‘loose ends. Premet uses several bows,
all different sizes, on the same frock,
with an impartial hand.
Sleeves are most important in the
scheme of existence, but unimportant
{in the scheme of decoration. Which
' means that they must exist, but you
mustn’t notice them. And when the
blouse is of contrasting color, the
sleeves are more than apt to match
the skirt.
Straight and diagonal lines and
| geometric forms are used, rather than
| curves. Clear-cut and interesting are
the zigzag harlequin designs embroid-
ered across blouses, and the occasion-
al monogram that encloses itself in a
diamond bow at the right side near
the belt.
a fitted yoke for
Worth repeats the
Patou fashions
i pleated skirts.
| oriental girdle. The green dress with
has the |
i the metallic Incrustations
wrapped and tied girdle that Doeuillet
designed.
Belts appear upon almost every
model, in one form or another. The
harness belt, narrow, buckled, still is
a high favorite. Buckles do much to
make this life a decorative one.
Coats, although seemingly endless
in variety, really settle down into the
straight coats that are apt to have a
box pleat back and the coats cut wide
enough, in the fashion of Vionnet and
, Patou, to wrap over to close at one
' side. Furs are much used on the soft,
luxurious coats for formal wear, but
the ever-ready, slim silhouetted top-
coats often keep to the furless mode.
It is simple then, to buy clothes for
next season that are in the tune with
the best designs of the Openings.
Look for these details of line, of belt,
of hem, by which you may know these
new-coming fashions from Paris.
—Wannamaker.
Have you ever thought of discard-
ing the old-fashioned shoe bag. on
closet or wardrobe door—which is
often an awkward thing at best and
rot always coniderate of one’s even-
ing slippers and such things—in favor
of the newer style boxes, divided into
| compartments, each of which is large
enough to contain a pair of shoes
, neatly and comfortably placed in it?
; These boxes may be good-looking ob-
| jects, quite decorative, in fact. For
the room with hangings of chintz,
they may be covered with the same
fabric, inside and out, and so will
(take their places inconspicuously,
| wherever they may be put.
| Some of these boxes are long and
| narrow. the width being slightly more
than the length of an ordinary pair of
| shoes, with rows or tiers of com-
| partments, one above the other, hold-
| ing eight or ten parts of shoes in all.
{ Such a box, with a hinged cover, or
i just a curtain of the chintz to hang
(down in front to conceal and protect
the shoes, may be set under a window
and the top used for a receptacle for
a magazine or two, or any little thing
of that sort which one may like to
drop down in some convenient spot.
If it is built strongly enough, it may
do duty as a seat, as well, thus great-
ly enhancing its usefulness.
Supposing one has only a narrow
space available for the shoe box; in
that case, it may be built somewhat
on the order of many a city skyscrap-
er, tall and narrow, two compartments
wide and five or six high, according
to choice. Again, the top may do
duty as a stand, and the front be
covered.
It would be an easy matter, if one
should not care to cover such a case
of compartments for shoes with chintz
or cretonne, to make it of plain wood
and then stain it to match the wood-
work of the room.
AY
cor,
i September Weather as Forecast by A.
S. Kirsch, Barr Twp. Astrologer.
Hard Winter Indicated.
This Venus year is certainly keep-
ing up its reputation for daily rains
in the spring and heavy rains
! during practically the entire year.
There will likely be some drought in
places during the fall as the New
Moon on August 27 and September
25 are in sign Virgo. During this
year there is danger of blight and
also rotting of grapes and fruit.
Warm weather is indicated for Sep-
tember since the Moon changes on
4th and 17th are near the node and
the Full Moon on 11 close the Equa-
tor. This Full Moon is similar to the
one in September last year, being on
the Equator and nearest the Earth
‘ the followng day after Full Moon in
sign Pisces, indicating that some
places will have sultry, cloudy, rainy
weather with thunder and floods. A
Mercury equinox is in force first half
of September. Buckwheat in wet
sections will be hard hit and cutting
in some places delayed until middle
of September.
Jupiter is nearest the Sun this year
and weakens animal life on this earth
and when the other planets are set
rght, anytime within a few years will
bring an epideme, and a rather severe
| winter with it, with deep snow fall.
“Usually both come the same year.
| Jupiter was nearest Sun in 1915 and
{ Saturn in 1916 and hard winter and
‘severe epidemic was delayed until
11918 when we had a double-decker on
| account of two planets in perhilion.
{—Mountaineer Herald.
——The “Watchman” is the most
‘ readable paper published. Try it.
POLITICAL ANNOUNCEMENTS
PRESIDENT JUDGE.
We are authorized to announce that
W. Harrison Walker, of Bellefonte, is a can-
| didate for nomination on the Democratic
ticket for the office of President Judge of
the courts of Centre county; subject to the
decision of the voters of the county as ex-
pressed at the primaries to be held on
September 20th, 1927.
To Democratic Voters of Centre County :—
I am a candidate for the office of judge
of your courts, subject to your decision
at the primaries Senismber 0, 1927.
incerely yours,
W. D. ZERBY
FOR SHERIFF.
We are authorized to announce that Harry
E. (Dep.) Dunlap, of Bellefonte, will be a
candidate for the nomination on the Demo-
cratic ticket for the office Sheriff of Centre
county, subject to the decision of the Cen-
tre county voters as expressed at the pri-
maries to be held on Tuesday, September
20, 1927.
We are outhorized to announce that
Elmer Breon, of Bellefonte borough, wilk
be a candidate for the nomination on the
Democratic ticket for the office of Sheriff
of Centre county, subject to the decision
of the Centre county voters as expressed
at the primaries to be held on Tuesday,
September 20, 1927.
FOR PROTHONOTARY.
We are authorized to announce that
Claude Herr, of Bellefonte, will be a
candidate for the nomination on the Demo-
cratic ticket for the office of Prothonotary
of Centre county, subject to the decision of
{ the Democratic voters as expressed at the
Primary tc be held Tuesday, September 20,
1927.
FOR TREASURER.
We are authorized to announce that Ly-
man L. Smith, of Centre Hall, will be a
candidate for the nomination for County
Treasurer subject to the decision of the
Democratic voters of the county as ex-
pressed at the primary to be held Septem-
ber 20, 1927.
| We are authorized to announce that D.
T. Pearce, of State College Boro., will be a
candidate for the nomination for County
Treasurer subject to the decision of the
| Democratic voters of the county as ex-
i pressed at the primary to be held Septem-
{ ber 20, 1927.
i
FOR RECORDER.
i We are authorized to announce that Sinie
H. Hoy. of DBeliefonte, is a candidate for
nomination on the Democratic ticket for
the office of Recorder of Centre county,
subject to the decision of the voters of the
county as expressed at the primary to be
held Tuesday, September 20, 1927.
We are authorized to announce that D.
Wagner Geiss, of Bellefonte, Pa., is a can-
didate for nomination on the Democratic
ticket for the office of Recorder of Centre
county, subject to the decision of the
voters of the county as expressed at the
primary to be held Tuesday, September
20th, 1927. .
We are authorized to announce that D.
A. McDowell, of Spring township, will be
a candidate on the Democratic ticket for
the office of Recorder of deeds of Centre
county, subject to the decision of the
Democratic voters as expressed at the
primary on Tuesday, September 20, 1927.
COUNTY COMMISSIONER
We are authorized to announce that John
S. Spearly will be a candidate for the
nomination for County Commissioner on
fhe Democratic ticket subject to the decis-
ion of the voters of the party as expressed
at the primaries on September 20th, 1927.
We are authorized to announce that
John W. Yearick, of Marion township, will
be a candidate for the nomination of Coun-
ty Commissioner, subject to the decision:
of the Democratic voters as expressed at
the primaries to be held September 20, 1927.
Republican Ticket.
PRESIDENT JUDGE
We are authorized to announce that M..
Ward Fleming, of Philipsburg, Pa., is a
candidate for romination for President
Judge of the Courts of Centre county sub-
ject to the decision of the Republican
voters of the county as expressed at the
primary to be held September, 20, 1927.
We are authorized to announce that
James C. Furst, of Bellefonte, Pa. is a
candidate for nomination on the Republi-
can ticket for the office of President Judge
of the Courts of Centre county; subject to:
the decision of the Republican voters of
the county as expressed at the primary to
be held September 20, 1927.
We are authorized to announce that
Arthur C. Dale, of Bellefonte, Pa., is a
candidate for the nomination on the Re-
publican ticket for the office of President
Judge of the courts of Centre county, sub-
ject to the decision of the Republican
voters of the county as expressed at’ the-
primary to be held September 20, 1927.
TREASURER.
I hereby announce that I am a candi-
date for nomination as the Republican
candidate for Treasurer of Centre County,
subject to the decision of the voters of the
party as eel at the primaries to be
held Sept. 20, 1927.
Your influence and support is earnestly
solicited. JOHN T. HARNISH
Boggs Township.
PROTHONOTARY.
We are authorized to announce that Roy
Wilkinson, of Bellefonte, Pa., will be a:
candidate for the nominaton on the Re-
publecan ticket for the office of Prothono-
tary of Centre county, subject to the de-
cision of thee Republican voters as ex-
pressed at the primary to be held Tues-
day, Septmber 20, 1927.