Bellefonte, Pa., April 12, 1929.
ISOS Re.
THE PASSING YEARS.
They're passing away, these swift, sweet
years,
Like a leaf on the current cast;
With never a break in the rapid flow,
‘We watch them as one by one they go
Into the beautiful thistledown,
As fond as a lover's dream,
As pure as the flush in the sea shell’s
throat,
As sweet as the wood-bird’s wooing note,
So tender and sweet they seem.
One after another we see hem pass
Down the dim-lighted stair;
‘We hear the sound of their steady tread
In the steps of the centuries long since
dead,
As beautiful and as fair.
There are only a few years yet to love;
Shall we waste them in idle strife?
Shall we trample under our ruthless feet
These beautiful blossoms rare and sweet.
By the dusty ways of life?
There are only a few swift years.
Oh, let
No envious taunts be heard;
Make life's fair pattern of rare design,
And fill up the measure with love's sweet
wine,
But never an angry word.
—New York Dispatch.
BREAD UPON THE WATERS.
(Continued from last week.)
One of life's failures was Uncle
Jimmy Breeze, only he did not know
it and, dying, would not have admit-
ted it. To his way of thinking he was
engaged in an honorable enterprise.
He was fully as much in earnest
about developing the mineral re-
sources of Nevada as was Bill Gar-
ford, and he was neither begging nor
borrowing but merely offering one
who had the money and the disposi-
tion an opportunity to profit to the
extent of fifty per cent on any treas-
ure Uncle Jimmy might find in his
futile and aimless wanderings through
blazing days and frigid nights with
the shadow of Death stalking grimly
but unnoticed by his side.
. Desert rats like Uncle Jimmy
Breeze are picturesque characters;
they had always appealed to a touch
of poetry in Bill Garford. Whimsical,
kindly, honest, dissolute, charitable,
cunning, generous and not very well
versed in metallurgical lore, they
constituted for him a human paradox.
By divine right they were entitled to
a hand on their elbow as they sidled
along to their ultimate destiny—
death alone in the desert from thirst,
snake-bite, disease or starvation.
Poor little old Uncle Jimmy ! Why,
he wouldn't harm a coyote. Bill's
great heart went out to the pathetic
wreck.
~ “How much, Uncle Jimmy?”
asked weakly, although he knew.
“Only two hundred dollars, Bill.”
“I can afford that. I'll throw in
with you, Uncle Jimmy, and if you
find anything you think I ought to
tackle, wire me and I'll send an engi-
neer to investigate.” He rang for
his secretary. “Please get me two
hundred dollars for Uncle Jimmy,”
be ordered. “I'll give the cashier my
check later.”
“Whoop ! Yow-w-w-w ! Wah-hoo !"
yelled Uncle Jimmy and threw his
ancient hat aloft.
“No shooting,” Bill Garford warned.
“That ceiling cost money, and besides
there’s somebody in the office up-
stairs.”
“Dang your old hide,” Uncle Jimmy
wheezed. “You're a good feller, Bill,
an’ I'm beholden to you. By gravy,
I got a sort o’ lucky feelin’ about this
pardenership of ourn
this time I'm agoin’ to uncover jewel-
ry. Boy, I ain’t agoin to be satisfied
with nothin’ less than a thousand dol-
lars a ton.”
A little later Bil Garford stood at
his office window and watched Uncle
Jimmy round up a couple of packed
burros standing outside. With a wil-
low gad he smote the little animals
smartly across the rumps and’ disap-
peared down the street singing a not
very proper ballad reminiscent of the
adventures of a verson who lived
down on the San Juan River and had
considerable trouble with some skunk
ho, it- appeared, had stolen his gal,
u.
he
“I wish I was—were—going with
you, Uncle Jimmy,” the man from
the roaring town murmured. “Down
yonder in the silence—where a fellow
can forget, where WOrry never enters.
But I can’t escape, Uncle Jimmy. Un-
like you, I'm not free. I've got to
stay and clean up and oh, my Lord,
waati a star-spangled, one hundred
and fifty per cent fool I am to be run-
ning—operating—a string of busted
banks !”
Uncle Jimmy pushed east. Like a
coyote he had dug burrows all over
the state and like a coyote it was in-
stinct in him to travel in circles.
There was some country to the east
of Winnemucca he wanted to give
one last look at. He had a new pair
of overalls, a new hat and new boots
now; he had beans and bacon and
flour and salt and pepper. He was on
his feet again and outward bound for
El Dorado. He felt lucky.
Of course he had always felt that
way with a new grub stake, but this
time he felt particularly lucky. He
told the jacks about it as they jogged
along through the dust devils and
low drifting alkali, for not having a
partner, Uncle Jimmy had long since
acquired the habit of discussing his
affairs with his jacks.
He prospected the hills he had in
mind and spent two months at it; |
a feelin’ that |
| to their rustling, to the blackbirds
scolding in their tops—so he camped
in that desert bottom.
He awoke about an hour before
daylight, suddenly alert, listening !
From a distance came the muffled re-
port of rifle fire, with pistol shots in
between. ‘‘Sheepmen an’ cattlemen
argufyin’ I reckon,” Uncle Jimmy de-
cided, and when the firing ceased
turned over in his blankets again.
Presently he heard an explosion, fol-
lowed in about fifteen minutes by the
sudden exhaust of a locomotive start-
ing—then another and another until
the sounds blended into the purr of a
train moving rapidly west.
“An’ if that wasn't a passel o’ ban-
dits holdin’ up the Overland Limited
I'm a Shoshone squaw,” Uncle Jimmy
murmured. ‘“Well, tain’t no affair o’
mine. All the railroad company ever
did for me was to run into my pack
outfit an’ kill three burros on me. An’
‘they never did pay me for them, nuth-
er! Lowed it was my fault lettin’
my stock ramble on the loose. No, I
ain’t a bit curious. It ain't up to me
to git out in my stockin’ feet, among
snakes an’ tarantulas, mebbe, to in-
vestigate an’ see which way them
bandits have headed. Besides, it ain't
daylight, an’ here I am snug as a bug
in this here willer thicket beholdin’ to
nobody. No, sir-ee, Uncle Jimmy.”
He settled down again and comenc-
ed dreaming of gold, only to be arous-
ed from his dreams by the sound of
many hoof-beats approaching the wil-
low thicket. He listened and present-
ly heard men’s voices.
“You stay put, Mr. Breeze,’ Uncle
Jimmy ordered. “In two shakes of a
lamb’s tail you're liable to be in some
sayin’—an’ a true one—that dead
men tell no tales. You an’I can't
afford to die now with the hull year
before us.”
Some twenty head of loose horses
came pounding across the draw and
through the willows, but all that
were headed directly for Uncle Jim-
my smelled him in time and swerved,
snorting, past him. Behind them men
rode, swinging riatas and occasional-
ly firing pistols in the air.
“Running loose horses to muss up
their trail,” Uncle Jimmy decided and
got out his old .45 to be prepared for
eventualities.
Six men rode into the lee of the
thicket and dismounted. “Now then,
boys,” Uncle Jimmy heard one of
them say, “everything has gone off
as slick as an eel in olive-oil and we
come to the second stage of out op-
erations. Six men traveling in a
bunch is deadly. That engineer is
heading for Winnemucca at sixty
miles an hour and ten minutes after
he gets there the entire state of
Nevada will be up an’ after us. We
all know the country so there’s no
sense gettin’ excited about this if we
split up an’ go our separate ways.
This bunch 0’ broom-tails have cov-
ered our trail an’ by the time the
sheriff an’ his posse get here the
broom-tails'll still be here tellin’ lies
i for us. This is as good a place as any
to bury the swag. You all marked it
down yesterday. Nobody’'ll see it—
an’ if the sheriff sees the ashes he'll
think it's some cow-waddy’s brandin’
fire. ”
A tiny fire was going in a few min-
utes and by its light one of the men
dug a hole with a short shovel car-
ried on his saddle. Uncle Jimmy
could not see anything except the
flicker of the fire and the dim shad-
ows of legs, but he could hear every-
thing. The men worked wordlessly
for about fifteen minutes and present-
ly Uncle Jimmy was aware that the
task had been completed.
| © ‘Now, then, something to hide the
fresh dirt or to account for it,” the
leader announced. “Louie—and you
Jim—rope one of those mustangs and
drag him in here.”
Louis and Jim obeyed. Presently
Uncle Jimmy heard the thunder of
hoofs again as the herd of semi-wild
mustangs were driven back across
the flat in the direction whence they
had come—and just as the first faint
streak of dawn lighted the landscape
the two men came dragging and driv-
ing a terrified mustang into the lee of
the willows. Uncle Jimmy could hear
the great, gasping, wheezing exhala-
tions of the poor animal and knew
that a riata was fast around its neck
slowly choking it. Then somebody
else must have got a rope around the
mustangs’s legs and Uncle Jimmy
heard it fall heavily within a few feet
of the freshly disturbed earth. s
Uncle Jimmy heard them drag the
strangled mustang in toward the
willows and over the freshly disturb-
ed earth, but not until leaves and lit-
ter had first beeen scattered over it.
“I don’t think the sheriff will trail
this dead horse around to see what's
under him,” the leader chuckled.
“And there'll be enough of him left
to provide a landmark. Now, then
friends, this is our program. Drag
your freight in whatever direction oc-
curs to you and head for some ranch
first thing, lookin’ for a ridin’ job.- In
a couple of months this thing will
have blown over. Meet me here at
sundown on the night of the Fourth
of July and we'll declare a dividend.
And don’t any of you get here any
sooner,” he warned. e man who
does will have me to settle with—and
you know me !”
They mounted and dispersed.
After a while Uncle Jimmy crawled
out of the thicket in his underclothes
and scanned the horizon in every di-
rection. “Alone in the midst of all
outdoors,” he cogitated. “Great
Jumping Jehosophat! For once ifi
yore fool life, Jimmy Breeze, you're
on hand when it’s rainin’ duck soup—
an’ this time you're not present with
; & fork. No, sir-ee ! You're there with
a dipper !”
He made a fire and cooked break-
4
com’ny, an’ don’t you forget the old .
Of course Uncle Jimmy did not
know that the bandit gang had robbed
the mails, but he hoped devoutly they
had. It would have been too bad if
they had confined their - operations
solely to the express messenger’s
safe! That is, too bad for Uncle
Jimmy.
Jogging along beside the right of
way he came presently upon a news-
.paper which some passenger had evi-
dently tossed from the observation
platform. “More luck !” he cried to
Molly and General Jackson, and
‘pounced upon it. He had not seen a
newspaper in two months, so at once
he sat down and proceeded to peruse
it. In huge black head-lines he read
Rill Garford’s Banks in Trouble
Run on Reno Branch of Nevada State
Bank.
Uncle Jimmy Breeze wiped his
spectacles and read on. A score of
suits filed simultaneously by the Ne-
vada State Bank and William Gar-
ford, its president and principal own-
‘er, to foreclose loans on cattle and
mortgages on cattle ranches had giv-
en rise to a suspicion that all was
not well with the bank’s finances, oth-
wise Garford would not have taken
such action without warning. A small
sized run had started on the Reno
branch on Saturday morning.
Until the bank closed at noon, as
‘was its custom, all checks presented
for payment had been promptly met.
‘But unless some reassuring state-
‘ment should be forthcoming on Mon-
day from Garford or the state bank
examiner it was practically certain
that the run would continue and ex-
tend to the other six branches of the
bank scattered throughout the state.
Then followed a brief history of Bill
Garford’s meteoric career.
Uncle Jimmy glanced at the date of
the paper—not that the date meant
anything to him, for he never kept
track of time. “So this is Sunday,”
he said, “an’ on Monday he'll pop for
my Bill pardner. Jimmy Breeze, we
got to do something. Yes, sir-ee. We
got to do something mighty danged
quick.”
He did. He urged his burros at
‘their best speed back to his camp of
the night before in the willows, where
he unpacked and made a fire at a
little distance from the dead mus-
tang, turned his jacks loose and lay
down to smoke. And in the middle of
the forenoon he saw, through the wil-
lows, an engine, with three cattle
cars attached, halt on the railroad at
the spot where Uncle Jimmy assumed
the hold-up had taken place. A ramp
was placed against the doors of the
cattle cars and they disgorged saddle-
horses and men, who, mounting
quickly, spread out, north, east, south
and west. Seeing the smoke from
Uncle Jimmy's camp-fire half a dozen
of them came jogging across the flat
to investigate. Their leader hailed
the old prospector.
“Hey, there, you desert rat. How
long have you been camped here?”
“Since last night at sunset, Mister.”
“Know anything about the train
hold-up that took place over yonder
just before daylight this morning ?”
“Know all about it,” Uncle Jimmy
piped back. “The shootin’ woke me
up. Then I heard the explosion when
they touched off the express com-
pany’s safe; then a bunch o’ mus-
tangs come chargin’ across this here
flat an’ through the willers, with six
men drivin’ ’em on. There's one of
them mustangs over yonder. The ones
in back crowded him an’ he fell an’
busted his neck, I reckon. It wasn't
light enough for me to see anything
but I can tell you this much. After
the band o’ mustangs had messed up
the trail them six fellers said good-by
to each other an’ separated. You
prognosticate around off yonder an’
you'll pick up their trail. Reckon
you'll need all o’ your gang.”
“And who might you be, prospect-
or?”
“I'm Uncle Jimmy Breeze an’l
didn’t see a thing. All I did was to
hear things.”
The posse thanked him and rode
away. And when they were out of
sight Uncle Jimmy tailed that dead
mustang off the cache, dug it up and
uncovered two leathern mail sacks,
which he promptly put on General
Jackson with his other impedimenta,
covered the whole with a tarpaulin
and announced to both jacks that they
were headed for Reno !”
About sunset he came to a tiny
flag-station and after scouting the
locality and ascertaining that no
human being except himself appeared
to be within milees of it, he unpack-
ed his burros, piled his equipment in
the flag-station and turned the jacks
loose to shift for themselves. The two
mail-bags he wrapped seceurely in the
tarpaulin, dragged the heavy bundle
out on the platform and sat down on
it to await the arrival of a westbound
train. One came along about sunset.
Uncle Jimmy flagged it and climbed
aboard, purchased a ticket for Reno,
curled up in the smoker with his bun-
dle on the seat opposite him and went
to sleep.
The conductor threw him off at
Reno and with his bundle on his aged
shoulder he sought a cheap lodging-
house. Once safe in his rooms, he rip-
ped the leathern mail-sacks open and
sorted their contents. They contain-
ed half a million dollars in yellow-
backed United States bills of large
‘ denomination and a million and three
quarter dollars’ worth of United
States Liberty bonds.
“Them skunks knew the registered
mail when they seen it,” he cackled
joyously. He rewrapped the lot in
his tarpaulin and went to bed. At sev-
en o'clock he was up and out on the
street. At -a quarter past eight he
was back with two second-hand suit
cases which he had purchased in a
| pawn-shop—and at ten minutes of
(ten o'clock when Bill Garford, in con-
ed in. So he opened the window and
‘looked cut.
Before him on the sidewalk stood a
vision—a little old man, freshly shav-
ed, with a scraggly gray mustache,
waxed ridiculously at each end, hair
freshly cut. A lopsided little man
whose twisted body appeared strange-
ly out of place in an’ il-fitting ready
‘to-wear suit of shepherd's plaid,
bright yellow shoes, a b’iled shirt and
a black string necktie up under one
ear. On this vision’s head rested a
jaunty straw hat with a multicolored
ribbon.
“Lemme in the side door, pardner,”
the vision cackled. ““I got to see you
private.”
“Who the devil are you?” Bili
Garford demanded.
“For the love of ready money!
Jimmy, what in Sam Hill have you
been doing to youself.
“Shut up, ye tarnation -ee-diot,”
Uncle Jimmy hissed, “an ’lemme in.
“I can’t, Uncle Jimmy. I'm too
busy. I have important affairs in
hand this morning. There's a run
on my bank—and the bank isn’t go-
ing to open,” Bill whispered. “For
heaven’s sake, clear out and leave me
alone.”
“You go take a jump in the Truckee
River, Bill. You zin’t tellin’ me noth-
in’ I don't know. I've come to save
you. I made a big strike over near
Winnemucca, an’ when I heard you
was in trouble I sold it to the Gug-
genheim crowd for two million two
hundred an’ twenty-five thousand
dollars. I didn’t have no time to wire
you. It was a take-it-or-leave-it prop-
osition—an’ I took it. I got the mon-
ey in yellowbacks to the tune o’ half
a million an’ Liberty bonds for the
rest. Quick, Lemme in —an’ let’s be
private about this.”
“I think you're crazy,”
Garford.
said Bill
“I ain’t. Dang it, Bill, don't I look
like ready money? Lemme in.”
Something told Bill Garford to
clear his office and let Uncle Jimmy
in. The latter entered bearing a suit-
case in each hand. “I had to sell for
about a quarter o‘' what that pruperty
was wuth,” he explained, “but the
circumstances was desperate so it
wasn't no time to whine.” He opened
the suitcases and commenced throw-
ing out bundles of Liberty bonds and
bright, new, yellow-backed bills.
‘Take ‘em, Bill,” he ordered. “Open
them doors as per usual an’ let that
gang 0’ coyotes in to git their money.
Dang yore gizzard, Bill Garford, you
never asked odds o’ no man yet an’
you ain’t agoin to do it now if your |
Uncle Jimmy Breeze can help it. Fly
to her, pardner. It’s all we got but
you're welcome to my share of it.”
“Oh, Uncle Jimmy, Uncle Jimmy !”
Bill Garford yelled, and folded his
partner to his aching heart. “You've
saved my honor.’ Then he plumped
Uncle Jimmy down into a chair,
thrust a cigar into his mouth and
ran out into the banking room. “Open
the doors,” he ordered the night-
watchman, and when the latter had
obeyed Bil Garford stood on the steps
and faced his.depositors. : .. ..
“This bank is solvent. Its capital
is unimpaired,” he cried, ‘and any-
body who tells you different is a liar.
Come on and get your money, and
after you've got it don’t come back
to my bank. Take your fithy lucre
to somebody else to take care of for
you. The Nevada State Bank is going
to pay ifs depositors dollar for dol-
lar and liquidate and go out of busi-
of business it ain't —isn’t— the kind
of business Bill Garford cares about.
It’s time I quit—and I'm quitting.
Come on, you children. Come and get
it
Two months passed. Into Bill Gar-
ford’s office came a total stranger and
sat down uninvited.
“My name is David Homesley,” he
announced, “and I am an inspector of
the United States post-office depart-
ment.” He flashed his badge. “Two
months ago the Overland Limited was
held up and robbed forty miles east
of Winnemucca, and two registered
mail-sacks were taken. They con-
tained five hundred thousand dollars
in new one-hundred dollar United
States notes and one million seven-
hundred and fifty thousand dollars in
United States Fourth Liberty Loan
bonds. You pledged these bonds as
collateral security for a loan of a mil-
lion five hundred thousand dollars to
the Third National Bank of Los
Angeles three days after the robbery
occurred, and I've just learned of it.’
I'd like your explanation of how they
came into your possession.
Without a moment's
Bill Garford told him.
“Where is Uncle Jimmy Breeze?”
the postal inspector demanded.
“He's gone to Paris to see the
Eiffel Tower. Uncle Jimmy made a
big strike in the hills over beyond
Winnemucca, and as I had grub-
staked him, half of it was mine. We
sold for three million the day before
yesterday, but long before that I had
grub-staked Uncle Jimmy for the
Paris trip. I had a long talk with him
before he left and he confessed with-
out shame how he found the money
and how he had lied to me to get me
to use it to stop a run on my bank.
“I've checked up with the sheriff,
who informs me he found Uncle Jim-
my camped at the spot where the
bandits had crossed, and on the
strength of Uncle Jimmy's statement
that the bandits would return to dig
up their loot at sunset on July fourth,
the sheriff and his posse went out
there at daylight on the third and hid
in the willows.” He tossed a telegram
over to David Homesley.
“Yesterday was the Fourth of July,
he added smilingly, “and the sheriff
wires me that all six birds fluttered
into his hands.” His quizzical glance
appraised the postal inspector. “I sent
hesitation
! k to the Third National Bank
then, king his.jacks, he struck fast. Then he rounded up his jacks, | ference with the state superintendent | & chec
out La ae forks In a valley packed them and started across the of banks and his cashier, had decided A of Los Angeles on July third, to take
through which the tracks of the valley for the railroad, his agile old «not to open the doors of the bank for
Southern Pacific Railroad ran he
found some good feed for the burros
growing along a watercourse which
had but recently dried up. There was .
a little growth of willows there also,
and after the hot and arid expanse of
flat or rolling desert, willow trees al-
ways looked good to Uncle Jimmy.
He liked to camp in. them and listen
brain quite filled with thoughts of
! what he would do with the reward
| that would surely be his when the
proceeds of that train hold-up should
have been recovered—thanks to him
—and a further reward of $5,000
office department might pay for a
+ robber of the United States mails.
business and was dictating an an-
up my loan.” he continued. “It wasa
certified check, so if you'll drop in
| nouncement to be pasted on said about the day after tomorrow I'll let
; doors for the benefit of the queue of
anxious depositors, blocks long, he
|
f
you have those stolen bonds. They
ought to be back by registered mail
Y have a certified
as startled by a brisk rapping at the by that time. You can a e
| rs of the office The the | check for the money I used right now.
each, dead or alive, which the post- | street. It was an imperious summons. And if you don’t believe what I'm
| Bill Garford felt that unless it was
' apswered the window would be crash-
.
telling you, go and quiz the state sup-
erintendent of banks and my cashier,
who saw Uncle Jimmy bring me in
the money and bonds.”
. “I think I ought to arrest you, as a
formality if nothing else,” Homesley
replied. He appeared reluctant to
give up the hunt.
“Why bother ?” Bill Garford laugh-
ed. “I'd only be out on bail in ten
minutes. Ten thousand men in this
state would chip in to go on my bond.
‘Ever since my banks got into difficul-
ties and paid out dollar for dollar
I'm a bigger banker than I ever was.
You couldn't convict me in any court
in the state of Nevada.”
“Nevertheless, Mr. Garford, until
‘you surrender those bonds and that
cash so I can return it to the bank
in San Francisco to which it was con-
signed, I'll have to keep you under
_surveilance.”
+ “Fair enough. And while you're at
it you're invited to my wedding to-
morrow night. Ever heard of old J. |th
B. Starbuck, over Winnemucca way ?’
“Never.”
“Well, I'm going to marry his
daughter. Old man’s one of the big-
gest and most respected cattlemen in
this state and as for his daughter—"
“Some folks,” Homesley interrupt-
ed bitterly, are fools for luck.”
Hearst's International Cosmopolitan.
A NEW JOB
FOR THE MARINES
No law ever placed on the statute
books of the United States has put
this country in such ridiculous posi-
tions as the Eighteenth amendment.
We have had to go with hat in hand
to other naticns and ask them to push
back the international limit around |
our coasts from three to 12 miles.
We have had to beg them to enter
into special arrangements by which
we would have been forced to accept
a snub from Canada when, alarmed
by the amount of liquor crossing the
border, we went to her and asked that
she help us enforce our own laws.
Now three major departments of
the Government are bending their ef-
forts toward solving the problem of
how to break the law for the bene-
fit of the Diplomatic Corps.
The Department of Justice, the
State Department and the Treasury
are all hot and bothered about it. The
law had been broken with their
knowledge for years. It was impol-
itic to say anything about it. Then
an ordinary Washington cop upset
the whole illegal conspiracy by seiz-
ing a truckload of liquor destined for
the Siamese Legation.
The members of the Diplomatic
Corps have the right to possess li-
quor. But such liquor must be trans-
ported to the various embassies, and
this cannot be done without breaking
the law. It is suggested that the em-
bassies might provide their own
trucks and drivers. Such vehicles and
servants would be immune from pros-
ecution, but they would not be im-
mune from hijackers.
The latest proposal is to provide
guards from the Marine Corps.
Should this be adopted, the topsy
turvy peculiarities of the prohibition:
law will once more be illustrated.
The Marines, who so often have
guarded American property in for-
eign lands, would have to turn and
guard foreign property at home.—
Philadelphia Record.
WHAT DOES 100%
SAFE REALLY MEAN
The Kinlock coal mine near Pitts-
burgh, the scene of last Thursday's
disaster, which numbered more than
twoscore victims, had recently re-
ceived the 100 per cent safety-rating
of the Federal Bureau of Mines.
Every protective device suggested by
the Government experts had been in-
stalled. The safety director of the
mine, widely recognized throughout
the industry as an authority on the
subject, lost his life in this disaster.
Only a week ago he remarked to a
newspaper reporter, who was inspect-
ing the operations of this “model”
mine, that he thought everything
possible had been accomplished to-
ward safety. What’s the answer ?
j. A break in the chain of the steel
conveyor, which brings the coal up
from the mine, sent the mass of met-
al hurtling to the bottom of the shaft,
striking a spark, which apparently
ignited coal dust or gas. Then came
. the explosion. The old story of the
! “weakest link.”
If every possible precaution was
taken, then “rock-dusting,” to render
jcoal dust nonexplosive, must have
‘been employed. This will be one of
the matters for inquiry. But evident-
ly, even a government 100 per cent
| certificate for safety is no guarantee
against the potential perils of the
,coal miner's extra-hazardous occupa- | 1850
tion.—Philadelphia Public Ledger.
SCHOOL SAVINGS REACH
IMPRESSIVE PROPORTIONS
Almost 14,000 of America’s schools
now have school savings banking
i plans in operation, and about four
million pupils are learning system-
atic savings through this type of
thrift, with deposits in excess of $26,-
000,000, recent reports of the Amer-
ican Bankers Association's Savings
Bank Division show. The schools in-
cluded in the reports are attended by
4,609,825 pupils, of whom 3,980,237
,are participants in the school savings
banking plans as depositors. During
the year these pupils received inter-
est in the amount of $947,610 on their
deposits.
The reports gathered by the associ-
ation also show that there are 38 cit-
ies in the United States in which a
full 100 per cent. of the grammar
school enrollment is participating in
school savings banking. The figures
covering high schools show that in 47
cities 100 per cent. of the attendance
in this class are school savers.
A t————— A ————————
——Port Matilda is endeavoring to
organize a fire company but the tax-
payers are so evenly divided on the
kind of apparatus to purchase that
they can’t settle on anything.
—Read the Watchman for the news
——1Ira E. Ike, of Tyrone, a freight
brakeman on the local freight on the
Tyrone division of the Pennsylvania.
railroad, was seriously injured, at
11:25 o'clock on Saturday morning,
when he was knocked from a car as
his train was shifting in the Belle-
fonte yard. He was riding a draft of
two cars which were shunted onto a
siding and which crashed into a yard
engine. Ike was thrown off and sus-
tained injuries to the head and body.
He was taken to the Centre County’
hospital for treatment.
~NEW ADVERTISEMENTS.
HERIFF'S SALE.—By virtue of a.
writ of Fieri Facias issued out of"
the Court of Common Pleas of Cen-
tre County, to me directed, will be eXxpos-
ed to public sale at the Court House in.
e Borough of Bellefonte on
SATURDAY, APRIL 27th, 1929
The Following Property:
(All that certain piece of parcel of land.
situate in the Township of Walker, Coun-
ty of Centre and State of Pennsylvania,
jad. being particularly described as fol-
NO. 1. Being all that certain messuage,
tenement and tract of land situated in.
Walker Township aforesaid, beginning at
2 stone; thence South sixty-six (66) de-
grees West, twenty-three and four tenths:
(43.4) perches to stone; thence south
| twenty-four and one-fourth (24 14) degrees:
east, twenty-nine and two-tenths (29.2)
perches to stone; thence south seventy-one-
(71) degrees west, thirty-four and eight-
tenths (34.8) perches to a post; thence:
South twenty-five and one-fourth (25 3%)
degrees East, four and five-tenths (4.5)
| perches to a post; thence South seventy-
{one (71) degrees West, two and nine-
‘tenths (2.9) perches to a stone; thence
! North twenty-four and one-fourth (24 %)
degrees west, thirty and nine-tenths:
| (30.9) perches to a stone; thence south
| Sixty-one and one-fourth (61 14) degrees
| West twenty-nine and six-tenths (29.6)
perches to a stone; thence North thirty-
one (31) degrees west, twelve and eight-
! tenths (12.8) perches to a stone; thence
, South sixty-one and one-fourth (611%) de-
1 grees West, twelve and nine-tenths (12.9)
| perches to a stone; thence North thirty-
,one (31) degrees west, one hundred and
‘nine (109) perches to a stump along land
of Beck; thence North forty-eight and
one-fourth (48 14) degrees East one hun-
| dred three and seven-tenths (103.7) per-
ches to a post, along Tilghman land, late:
i Thomas Huston; thence South thirty-one
and one-fourth (381 1,) degrees East one
hundred fifty and five-tenths (150.5)
perches to the place of beginning, con-
| taining eighty-six (86) acres and ninety-
: 8ix (96) perches and allowance. It be-
‘ing the same tract of land which John:
Neil and Susan, his wife, by their deed
| dated the 6th day of June, A. D. 1849, and’
i recorded in Deed Book No. 2, page 493,
December 1, 1849, in the office for the
recording of deeds in and for the Coun-
ty of Centre, granted and conveyed to-
| Thomas Huston, his heirs and assigns, in
fee simple.
NO. 2. Consisting of two tracts of land
: situated in Walker Township, aforesaid,
; adjoining No. 1 on the South and West
above described belonging to said Thom-
{as Huston. (1) Beginning at a stone;
j thence along land of Thomas Huston.
| North sixty-one and one-half (611%) de-
i grees East, forty-two and six-tenths (42.6)
| perches to a stone; thence along land of
i same South twenty-three and one-half
| (28%) degree s East, one hundred.
{ond forty-seven and four-tenths (147.4)
perches to a stone; thence along
| land of J. Philips, now Jacob Goble, six-
ty-one (61) degrees West, forty-two and
six-tenths (42.6) perches to a stone; thence-
along land of H. Rich, deceased, North
twenty-three and one-half (23%) degrees.
West, one hundred and forty-seven and.
nine-tenths (147.9) perches to the place of
beginning. Containing thirty-eight (38.
acres and one hundred and forty-one (141)
perches, neat measure. (2) Beginning at
a post in the main road leading to Belle-
fonte and Lock Haven, thence along said
road fifty-nine (59) degrees West, thir-
teen (13) perches to a post; thence by
land of North thirty-two-
(32) degrees West, thirteen (13) perches
to a post; thence by land of Thomas
‘Huston North fifty-nine (59) degrees
East, thirteen (13) perches to a post;.
thence by same land south thirty-two (32)
degrees east, thirteen (13) perches to the-
place of begining. Containing one (1) acre-
and eight (8) perches, neat measure. Be-
ing the same two tracts or pieces of land
; conveyed by deed of Charles Beck, Trus-
| tee, dated April 1, A. D. 1862, to Thomas:
i Huston, his heirs and assigns, and duly
{recorded in the office for recording of
deeds in and for said County, March 5,
A. D. 1866, in Deed Book ‘‘A,” page 340,
as will by reference thereto more fully and
at large appear.
NO. 3 All that certain lot or piece of
land situate in Walker Township, afore-
said, beginning at a stone; thence North
fifty-nine (59) degrees East, one hundred
and twelve and forty-four one-hundred.
(112.44) perches to a stone; thence by"
land intended to be conveyed to John Orr
South thirty-two (32) degrees East eigh-
ty (80) perches to a pine knot post;
thence by land Decuplied by Thomas Hus-
ton South forty-eight and three-fourths:
(48%) degrees West, one hundred and
five and six-tenths (105.6) perches to a.
pine stump; thence South thirty-three (33)
degrees East, two and six-tenths (2.6) per-
ches to a stone; thence South fifty-nine
(58) degrees West, twelve perches to a.
stone; thence by said Tilghman’s land
North thirty and one-half (30%) de, S
west, one hundred and one and ree-
fourths (101%) perches to the place of be-
ginning. Containing sixty-four and four-
tenths (64.4) acres, more or less. Excepting:
and reserving therefrom and thereout
unto Marian Tilghman, her heirs and as-
signs forever, the one full equal undivided
one-half part of all iron ore and mines of"
ironore on said premises. This being the
same tract of land which Anna M: Tilgh-
man, Executrix of last will and testament
of Benjamin Tilghman, late of the city of
Philadelphia, deceased, by her indenture
bearing date the 15th day of July A, D.
, granted and conveyed to Thomas
Huston, his heirs and assi forever,
and recorded in the office for recording
deeds in and for Centre County on Janu-
ary 28th, 1851, in Deed Book ‘R” Page 2183.
Being the same premises conveyed by
James Coburn, Executor of Thomas Hus-
ton, deceased, to Joseph H. Long by deed
dated the 20th day of January A. D. 1899,
and recorded in Centre County in Deed
Book No. 75, page 686.
ALSO NO 4 All that certain parcel of land
situated in Walker Township, County and
State aforesaid, beginning at a t on:
line of land leased unto the Central Rail-
road of Pennsylvania; thence along land
of said J. H. Long North twenty-five (25)
deg. West, four and one half (41%) perches
to a post; thence North sixty-nine (69)
degrees East, thirty-four and one-half
(341%) perches to a post: thence South:
one and three-fourths (1%) perches to a
post in the creek on line of said Railroad
thence about Southeast along line of land
of said Railroad thirty-four and one-half
(84%) perches to the place of beginning
containing ninety-six (96) perches more
or less.
Boing the same premises conveyed by
B. F. Shaffer and Sophia C., his wife, to
Joseph H. Long by deed dated the 20th
day of September, A. D. 1903, and record-
ed in ad County in Deed Book No. 94,
page 6.
The above described four parcels of land’
with the improvements thereon are the
same that were conveyed to J. Harold
Long by deed dated July 16, 1917, between
J. Franklin Long, et al, which deed is re-
corded in the office of the Recorder of
Deeds of Centre County in Deed Book
120, page 677.
The improvements thereon consist of
frame dwelling house and outbuildings.
Seized, taken in execution and to be
sold as the property of J. Harold Long
and Marion ng.
Sale to commence at 1:30. o'clock P. M,
of said day.
H. E. DUNLAP, Sheriff
Sheriff's Office, Bellefonte, Pa.,
March 27, 1929 74-14-83