A
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Bellefonte, Pa., May 3, 1929.
———————————————————————
1 4
F AF. WARDS.
There's never a storm so wild
‘But after it follows a calm;
There's never a hurt so great
But somewhere’s provided a balm;
There's never a night so dark
But after it follows the dawn.
gl
Re
on
There's never a shadow falls
But after it follows the light;
There's never a SOrrow comes
But after it comes delight.
There's never a sky so grey
But after it follows the blue;
There's never a false friend found
But later you'll find a true.
There's never a heart that breaks
But after a while it will heal;
There's never a moan of pain
But after a laughter peal.
There's never a sin so black
But forgiveness is found at last;
There's nevr a weary day
But sometimes ‘twill be past;
There's never a night so dark
But dawn will come at last.
REVOLT
“So now, old folks, it’s up to you
to pack your duds and be quick about
it.” The suuperintendent’s voice was
genial, but businesslike, with a ring
of granite underneath. “We've got
to get you moved by to night. Just
get your duds together the best
you can; and when your packing’s all
done, put on your things and meet
me here, in the assembly room, again.
We're going to take you to your new
home in automobiles! Think of that!
That's all, right now. Scamper!’
“No!” quavered an old, tried voice.
“It’s not all. I'm not goin’.”
James Fraser reared his gnarled
and shaking figure as nearly to its
full height as his eighty-two years
would let him. “When I was brought
to this Home, fourteen years ago
come November, I was told I could
end my days here! I didn’t want to
—then!” He swallowed painfully,
and the tardy tears of old age oozed
in slow trickles from his sightless
eyes and drizzled zigzaggingly down
the furrows of his face.
“None of us wishes to come here
overmuch. But my niece hadn’t the
room for me. Nor the time to lead
me hither and yon after my eyes
was—"
“Come, come, Grandfather,” broke
in the superintendent, testily. “We've
no time for all that, now. You're
going, just as all the rest of thein-
mates are going. And that’s all there
is to it! You'll like it better than this
place, after you get there,” he said,
kindly.
“I shan’'t go,” protested the old
man, and he sat down again, crying
weakly on his coat sleeve.
All about him began the tap-tap of
sticks. The sixty or more blind old
men and women were getting to their
feet and shuffling their way out of
the room to their own particular cub-
byholes, there to gather up the piti-
fully few belongings that Life had
swept into this quiet backwater along
with their worn-out bodies.
Many of the men and women were
pleased and excited at the idea of any
change. Some of the tapping canes
fluttered, almost danced! But James
Fraser continued to sit in a crumpled
heap like an old, tired child. One or
two of his cronies stopped to argue
with him, and a number more stopped
to listen.
Suddenly James straightened up,
wiping his damp and bedraggled, face
vigorously on his sleeve. “Folks,” fie
said loudly, “you get all your friends
and relations to give you some money
—all they will! Some of ’em can
manage to give you some money, I
know, when they find out what it’s
for! We'll raise enough to build a
new building, if this one’s not safe
any longer, as they say it’s not. We'll
e’en make them keep us here till the
new one’s built! We were told by the
meenister from the kirk, when we
first came here, we could stay the
rest of our days! And it’s our riguht!”
He brought his fist down on the
back of the chair in front of him with
such a resounding thwacK that he
nearly upset himself and the chair as
well.
“I'm going to protest!” he shouted
shakily; and turned and shuffled
stampingly down the aisle to the
door, his bearded old head held high,
defiance in every tap of his cane.
Right to the superintendent’s office
he tapped his way, not stopping un-
til his sensitive fingers told him he
had reached the desk.
As James Fraser came into the
room, the superintendent glanced up.
He was used to the tapping of canes.
He heard them all day and every day.
But he was hot used to this defiant
note.
“What's up, Fraser?” he asked.
“You seem upset about something. I
haven't time to listen to any com-
plaints, this morning.”
“ 'Tis no complaint,” said the old
man. “ 'Tis business. I offer ye a
hundred dollars to let us stay in this
house—our only home!”
“A hundred dollars! Why, Grand-
father, you haven't got a hundred
dollars! You haven't got one dollar—
let alone a hundred! What are you
talking such rubbish for?”
“ 'Tis no rubbish,” persisted Fras-
er, his lips pursed in a vain attempt
to hide their trembling. “We'll get
the money, sir. We'll give it to
ye. Our families’ll help us collect it,
I'm telling ye. We'll"
“There, there,” interrupted the
harassed superintendent. ‘There's no
use in your saying another word. You
haven't got the money, and we
wouldn't take it if you had. We know
what's best for you. If we let you
stay here any longer, the place might
gel on fire and all of you be burned
to death! It's condemned! TI told
you that. The law won't alloW us to
keep you here any longer. Can't you
understand? You're going to anoth-
! er Home—a better one than this—
| bigger, and better, and newer—where
| there ‘are a lot of nice old people al--
ready. Youll make lots of nice
friends—"
“Friends—an’ me eighty-two years
old? We can’t make new friends!
| An’ we don’t wish to! We—"
| “That’s all, Fraser,” said the sup-
' erintendent briskly. “I’ve no more
| time to waste listening to you. It's
' no worse for you than for the fifty-
| nine other inmates. They're all pack-
| ing; and you go right to your room
'and pack up, and don’t let me hear
| another word out of you.”
Rising as he spoke, the superin-
tendent kindly but firmuly pushed
the old man and his stick out of the
office, and shut and locked the door.
With the surety of long practice
Fraser found his way upstairs and
into his own room. A tiny place it
was, stuffy, and barely furnished.
But it had been his for nearly four-
teen years, and he loved it.
He had been turned out of many
places in his life, but he had never
expected to be turned out of this.
They had told him it was to be his
home always. But then perhaps they
hadn’t expected him to live so long!
He reached under his bed and drew
forth his funny little Scotch trunk.
His hands fluttered about among the
few things in it that he had never
taken out since he left his niece’s
house, so long ago. He lifted each
article and felt it, his clever fingers
do. The little book of Scotch songs
he had loved to sing as long as he had
any voice; the big round shoulder
brooch with the cairngorm in the
center,” that no amount of wheedling
would induce him to part with, even
for bread.
“ "Twas my father’s!
the time I've
plaidie with it.
An’ many’s
seen him fasten his
"Twill be pinned on
fin,” he was wont to say.
Then the small, time-yellowed pic-
ture of a girl he once had hoped to
marry, but who married another man.
“I would na keep it, but it minds
me how headstrong she was, and how
well out of it I am!” he used to say,
when his nieces questioned him.
“Ye were a saucy lass!” he said to
pick up one of his father and mother
in a red velvet frame.
It had been taken on their wedding
day; and the good-looking couple
were in gala attire, the bridegroom
in kilt and sporran, with his “plaidie”
caught by the very shoulder-buckle
now lying in the old trunk.
“Little did ye think to have a son
i’ he puir house, the day ye stood for
that picture! Little did ye think it,
Mither an’ Fayther! But to have a
son turned out o’ the puir house! Ye
fairly could na credit it!”
He smoothed the worn velvet frame
a moment, his sightless eyes turn-
ed toward the bright fields of mem-
ory; then laid the picture back in the
trunk with tender touch.
i As he did so, his hand came In
' contact with his father’s rusty old
dirk, and the little ‘quaick” from
which, in happier days, he had been
wont to take his wee nip.
At the same moment there was a
smart rap on the door. James shuf-
fled to open it, the dirk still in his
hand.
“All packed up, Grandfather?”
came the brisk voice of one of the
institution’s attendants.
“No! I'm not packed!” croaked the
old man. “An’ by the blood of ill
the Fraser Clan and its septs, dead
an’ gone, I'll not pack! Not for ye,
nor twenty like ye!”
“Oh, shut up, there!”
“I'll not shut up,” cried James
“Me forebears defended themselves
an’ fought for Bonnie Prince Charlie
at Prestonpans and at Cullodon Mur
—aye, every man o’ them, and I sh’l]
defend myself here!
o’ ye!”
defiantly.
“There, there
down.”
“I'll not shut up,” cried James.
lunged with all his strength.
The dirk that had defended Prince
Charlie at Cullodon Moor hit noth-
ing. The sightless eyes could not di-
rect; and so great was James’ rage
it completely obscured the sixth
sense that sometimes comes to the
help of the blind. Instead, fhe old
man tumbled weakly into the arms of
the attendant, the dirk dangling from
one shaking hand.
All his force spent, they laid him
on the hard, narrow bed he had loved
no one knows why; and went about
packing his trunk with quick, exper-
ienced fingers.
While his few clothes and other
belongings were tumbled pell-mell in-
to the trunk, James lay silent and
spent. His latest flare-up of revolt
had taken every bit of energy left ip
the worn-out body. His rigid form
never moved. He showed not the
slightest further interest in the pro-
ceedings, even when he heard his
trunk slammed shut, heard the ex-
pressman come, heard him bangingly
lift the little chest and tramp out
of the room.
James was so still that the attend-
ant shook him lightly before speak-
ing to him, thinking that he slept.
“Get on your hat, Fraser,” he said,
good-humoredly. “Time to go now—
you've got to follow your trunk to
the new Home. Here's your cane.
Don’t forget that!”
And Fraser, like his luggage, was
hustled out with no ceremony at all.
He knew just how many steps he
had to take to traverse the length
of the upstairs hall. Then how many
steps to go down, one by one, like
a child.
Silently he counted the paces to the
front door for the last time, paying
no heed to the cackling of cheerfully
excited old voices all about him. The
blind, as a rule, are happy; and there
were few whines to be heard.
“Every one,” thought James bit-
terly, “seems to be glad to go but
me!”
Then he counted the steps from the
door to the ground, and shuffled
across the sidewalk to the curb, This
And he flourished the dirk
Grandfather, calm
doing the work the old eyes could not
my shoulder when I'm low in my cof- |
i the daguerreotype, and dropped it to
"Tis my own :
room, an’ I'll not leave it for the likes
much was familiar to him. He drew
a long, quivering breath.
Beyond, the blackness was un-
known land. He would have to be-
gin all over again. He stood still
Some one propelled him skilfully
from behind.
| “Step up, Grandfather,” said the
superintendent. “Pick up your feet.
Here's a great big motor-bus going
to carry a lot of you at once. Get
in. Most of your friends are inside
there already. They're anxious to
get to the new Home, and you're
keeping ’em waiting. Up you go!”
He felt himself pushed upward
from the rear. Automatically his
feet responded, and with beating
heart he slumped into a vacant seat.
, How strange it was that the others
could chatter and laugh, when the
doors of their dear Home were being
shut in their faces! Not one of them
understood! z
| Only he and the Home itself, left
‘there silent and tenantless, under-
'stood. The Home would be lonely.
It would miss him! Its windows,
with no lights showing through them
at night, would be as sightless as his
own eyes. There would be silence
everywhere. Not even an echo of
the old, cheerful “tap, tap” through
the halls. For the halls themselves
were to be torn down to make way
for progress.
“They say we got runnin’ water in
every room, Fraser,” chuckled an old
man who sat next him in the bus.
“What's the good 0’ runnin’ wa-
ter?” grumbled Fraser, breaking his
long silence. “My old pitcher and
bowl were verra, verra guid. I knew
the feel of ev'ry chipped place in it,
and not once did I drop itinall the
years!”
“An’ they say there's a sunny win-
dow in all the rooms, an’ muslin cur-
tains,” chimed in a woman on the
other side.
' “Who wants a sunny window ?”
| scoffed James, determined to stay on
the defensive. ‘Not you nor me,
when we can’t see the sun whether it
shines or murks!”
© “And the superintendent says the
folks that are comin’ from that other
place, where it was so full they had
( to get rid of a lot of well ones te make
‘room for the sick ones—what’s it
they call it?”
; “Ye mean the Norton Home?” said
| James.
! “Yes, that’s it. Well, the superin-
tendent says that they're all nice,
genteel folks from the Norton Home,
and we'll enjoy—"
| “It makes no difference to me how
genteel they are!” interrupted James.
(“I'll not be able to find my way
around in a new place! Nor will
you—for all your genteel folks!
{ They’ll e’en be as homeless as we! I
tell ye, at or age, we canna make
new friends! Why should we? My
old pitcher an’ bowl were my friends,
An’ the old rocker with the holes an’
lumps in the back of it! I loved ev-
ery hole an’ every lump, e’en though
they did use to tease my joints an’
my rheumatism. That old chair was
cranky, but we understood one the
other. It was a friend, an’ one €x-
pects every good friend to be a wee
bit cranky, once in a while. Ah
well!” and James drew a long whist-
ling breath through the few teeth God
had left him.
“What's come over you, Mr. Fras-
er?” said the man on his left. “As
long as I've known you, I néver
learned before that you was a
grouch!”
“ "Tis well for you that you're still
able to learn something at your age!”
blared Fraser, the storm of his sor-
row turning his usually sweet temper
unbelievably sour to curding.
! Suddenly he raised his head and
sniffed like a hound. “We're leavin’
the town!” he said. “I smell the
country! They're takin’ us away out
in the country, where our kin'll nev-
er come to see us!”
“Mine never do come to see me,so
so I don’t care!” chirped the old wo-
‘man on James’ right. “I like the
‘country. I c¢'n smell the clover now!”
“Why don’t they take us to the
kirk yard, while they're about it, an’
dump us there? Might just as well,
first as last,” was James’ happy re-
joinder.
And so the talk went on until the
busses finally drew up in front of a
huge Colonial mansion. There were
broad verandas, with many comfort-
able chairs on them. The tall, white,
fluted pillars that ascended to the
second story bespoke space, cool-
ness, and peace. The building itself
was only three stories high, though #*
rambled in every direction. Ii case
of fire, every one could be got out of
doors without any loss of time.
! The steps leading up to the veran-
| da were broad and low. On them, In
i welcome, stood a number of smiling
{ attendants, waiting to help the new-
comers.
| Over the portal of the institution
was this simple legend,
| “Our Old Folks are at Home.”
| Robins and orioles were twittering
——— A ——————————
EE EE EE TE SR FAs nm SS . CC
faucets, as timorously he turned on
the hot water, then the cold. Fas-
cinated, he played with them a mo-
ment or two, then went on with his
tour of inspection.
Bringing up by the open window,
at last, he stood still, his spare form
bathed in the warm sunshine. He felt
the white, ruffled curtains blowing
gently in the breeze. Then he raised
his head like a hound and sniffed.
“Posies!” he said to himself under
his breath. “Posies in a pot on the
sill. Where I can water the wee
things myself, each day. An, runnin’
water to give them a drink of, and
all. An’ muslin curtains. An’ right
close beside them a rocker—with no
holes nor lumps to find the rheuma-
tism with.
“They never said a word gbout the
posies!” he added dreamily. “And I
didn’t believe the rest. Butu it’s all
gospel truth!”
Smiling a little, he smoothed a pet-
al of the pink geranium as tenderly
as if it were a baby's cheek. From
below the music of the strings came
to him, faint and sweet.
Then someone crossed the room
from the open door and tapped him
on the shoulder.
“Come downstairs, now. We're to
have the roll-call, and then vou’ll all
have your dinner on long tables cut
under the trees. We always eat out-
doors here, in nice weather.”
James let himself he lod down the
comforatble stairs, not quite sure
whether he had somehow died and
gone to heaven, or had been rehorn a
small boy again and was on his way
to a kirk picinic.
In the assembly room helow, he ren
against one or two of his old friends
' of the former Home, but his heart was
too full to say much to any of them.
Then the roll was called, and each
oldster answered to his name in turn.
James was one of the first on the list
as the letter F comes early fn the
alphabet. >
“James McLeod Fraser !” called the
attendant.
“Aye !” answered James,
vigorous ring in his voice.
“That’s never Jamie Fraser o’ Pit-
lochry ?” asked a soft, little old voice
quivering with excitement.
“It is, then !” James almost shout-
ed, while a queer, forgotten thrill shot
through him like a pain. Then he
challenged: “Speak your own name !
Who are you?”
“Why, Jamie, I'm Eppie Adair ! Do
ye no ken Eppie?”
Two never-to-be-forgotten little
hands—grasped James’ arm and that
queer thrill went through him again.
If the roll-call went on, he knew
nothing more about it. Holding hands
like two children, the old couple push-
ed their way into a far corner.
“Eppie ! Oh, Eppie ! An’ is it your-
sel’? Your wicked, wicked little sel’ ?”
a new,
The hot tears found their way to’
James’ sightless eyes, while the touch-
ed the white hair of the tiny woman
in the same way he had touched the
geranium blossom.
“Eppie !” he cried brokenly again.
Then, ashamed of his emotion, he
barked gruffly: “Ach! But ye're a
wicked woman !”
The tide of remembrauce swept
them both swiftly into a sea of long-
for-gotten dialect.
“Jamie !” pleaded the lovely old
voice. ‘“Tis many years agone'!l
coulda help it then! Ye took Kate Mc-
Cleoud to the Spring Holiday when ye |
should of took me. Ye know ye did!
An’ ye made eyes at her all through
the reels we danced ! An’—”
“An’ why did I?” broke in James.
“Ye ken weel why! For the reason
that ye didna play fair! Ye turned
me off for a feckless waster who was
no guid at a’ but for dancin’ ! Ye did,
now ! Don’t say ye didn’t ! I was weel
rid o’ ye !”
“Wisht, Jamie Fraser! Shame on
ye! After all these years! I know I
was hasty. But I did love ye, Jamie.
I'm not afraid to own it now ! I did
ill, yes ! I couldna forgie ye! An’ to
punish ye, I ran off in a rush of a
temper, an’ married Alan ! But Jamie
—I paid for it—for I loved ye all the
whole time; an’ I had to go through
the rest o’ my life lovin’ ye an’ mar-
ried to anither ! Mony an’ mony’s the
time I wished ye'd come an’ ask me
to run awa’ wi’ ye across the border !
"Twas a wicked wish! But I wished
it ! An’ I paid for it a’! Look at me
now !”
“Is he dead?” asked James huskily.
“These forty years' an’ the bairms
are all growed up with bairns o’ their
ain an’ no time nor money to take
care o’ me, though Maggie, as I came
out to the States with, put me inthe
Norton Home, an’ she comes to see
me often, the dear child! She'll be
happy to see me in this beautiful
place—but to think of Jamie Fraser
here ! The Lord's ways are wonderful,
past finding out ! ;
said Eppie
; presently.
|
: gaily in the big trees, and somewhere :
; inside the place a small orchestra was
i playing “Johnny Comes Marching
! Home,” so spiritedly that several of
{the newly arrived oldsters ptanced,
rather than shuffled, up the steps with
their canes.
“This way, Fraser,” said the fam-
iliar voice of the superintendent. “I'm
going to take you up in the elevator.
Your room’s up only one flight, and
you can walk it whenever you want
to, but the elevator is always right
here if you don’t feel like walking."
others. It was years since he had
been in one, and he held his breath
with nervousness as they made the
short upward flight.
His room proved to be only a step
from the elevator. His trained nos-
trils told him it was fresh, and clean,
and new.
They left him alone for a few min-
utes, and he made a quick tour of
the place; his deft fingers telling him
more than many people’s eyes would
have done in such a brief time. He
found his trunk, the bed—strangely
soft and inviting—the dresser.
When he reached the washbowl,
|
i
|
his fingers fairly fluttered over the
“Listen to the music,”
“Tis ‘The Campbells Are Coming !’
It takes us hame !”
They sat silent, listen‘ng. Then--
“Jamie,” the woman said timidly,
“were ye married?”
“Na !” James answered shortly.
“I've a foolish picture in me box, of a
blue-eyed, brown-haired lass—a little
bundle o’ mischief not worth tuppence
—an’ I've aye kept it wi’ me all these
mony years to hold me back from
makin’ a fool o' myself again! An’
it has ! All weemen are nachelly bad
and Eppie Adair was the wee-est and
the worst! She had nae heart at all!”
“Jamie,” came Eppie’s voice almost
In a daze James let himself be led in a whisper, while her gnarled, little
into the elevator with a number of | hand tightened on his, “why—oh, why
did ye not come an’ carry me awa’?"”
“Eppie !” whispered James broken-
ly. “Why did ye never write me—just
a wee, wee letter?”
“But I did, Jamie,” was Eppie's
earnest answer. “Truth I did, dear
jad ! An’ it broke my heart that I got
no answer. Not one in all these years.
“The letter never came,” murmured
James. “It never, never came ! And
I couldna stay in Scotland without ye
—so0 I sailed over here! Ach! Ye
were a bad little lot, to mess up our
lives so ! Ye were a bad—"
“Come to dinner, old folks,”
the superintendent's voice briskly.
“We're all going outdcors to eat un-
called |
der the trees, now. I know yaoure
hungry !”
James Fraser grabbed at the super-
intendent’s coat as he hurried by.
Grabbed and would not let go.
“I've no time to listen to your com-
plaints now, Grandfather,” the super-
intendent said kindly, but a bit im-
patiently.
He had a trying and anxious day.
It was no sinecure to move sixty
blind old people from one place to an-
other without accident or mishap of
any sort.
“Let go my coat. I'm in a hurry.
You'll get used to everything and like
it, in a little wh—"
“Is there a meenister here? Can we
get married? We want to get mar-
ried right away !” interrupted Fraser.
“You what?” cried the superinten-
dent.
He looked about anxiously for pos-
sible help, believing that the long
trip and the excitemnt of moving had
caused the old man to take leave
of his senses. ;
“We want to get married—this lass
here an’ mesel’ —right now! Tan
we?”
Eppie’s face, still pretty in spite of
seventy years of hard work, showed
unmistakably that she agreed with
James, even though the unexpected-
ness of his announcement had depriv-
ed her of all speech.
“Why—why—I don’t know that it's
against the rules, if that’s what you
mean ! But why—what’s the use,
Grandfather? Are you old friends or |
something ?”
“Na,” said James gently.
friends —call it that if ye will.”
voice suddenly became gruff.
“An’ we've missed over sixty years
o‘ the grandest quarrelin’ in the
world. An’ we've only got a bit 0°
years left, at best, to settle all the
quarrels that we should have spent
our whole lives in settlin’.
c¢’'n we have that marriage?”
His
“Jamie—Jamie !” protested Eppie
anxiously. “Shouldn’t we wait, per-
haps—just a wee bit ? For ye to be
sure, Laddie? Ye were verra unhappy
—verra angry with me, ye ken—ir
the years gone by. Ye might get to
remembering it all over. Ye might
blame me again for what's gone be-
fore.” =
“Na—na !” James broke in; then,
still holding the superintendent‘s coat
in one hand and Eppie’s hand tightly
in the other, he said slowly and with
reverence:
| “Wat's gone before matters
'naug it. ‘One thing I know: that
whereas I was blind, now I see !”
—Good Housekeeping.
! REAL ESTATE TRANSFERS.
1
| Grace R. Dashem, et bar, to Boyd
'E. Smith, tract in Potter Twp.; $1,-
200.
John L. Holmes, et ux, to Irving L.
Foster, et ux, tract in State College;
$750.
Samuel A. Bierly, et ux, to Eldon
R. Ilgen, et ux, tract in Miles Twp.;
$1,600.
Union National bank, of Hunting-
don, to Ralph E. Rockey, et ux, tract
in Harris Twp.; $1,250.
Lloyd M. Kerlin, et ux, to John E.
! Jordon, et ux, tract in Potter Twp.;
$3,950.
John E. Ertle, trustee, to Miles
| Rachau, tract in Miles Twp.; $395.
Daniel Auman, et al, to J. G. Mey-
er, et al, tract in Penn Twp.; $412.
Alice J. Durst to Edward O. Durst,
tract in Potter Twp.; $1.
John C. Hoy to George F. Rogers,
et ux, tract in Marion Twp.; $100.
| Margaret L. Slack, et bar, to J.
| Fred Slack, tract in Potter Twp.; $1.
| John Sokolowski, et ux, to Ralph
| Nevara, tract in Rush Twp.; $200.
Anna M. Robb, et bar, to Adam
Fravel, et ux, tract in Walker Twp.;
$600.
Mary B. Saucerman to R. Hamill
Goheen, tract in Ferguson Twp. et al;
$1.
H. E. Dunlap, sheriff, to Bitumin-
ous National Bank, tract in Philips-
burg; $10,000.
John H. Kerstetter to Alice Ker-
stetter, tract in Millheim; $1.
A. S. Bailey to M. C. Wieland, tract
in Ferguson Twp.; $175.
C. M. Sharer, et ux, to R. C. Eng-
lish, tract in Taylor Twp.; $1.
Danel Moore, et ux, to C. M. Shar-
er, tract in Taylor Twp.; $1.
| H. E. Dunlap, sheriff, to Fred J.
Dunham, et ux, tract in Rush Twp.;
$3,500.
Norman E. Lighthamer, et ux, to
Claude R. Moore, et ux, tract in How-
ard; $1,600.
Charles D. Norton, et ux, to Mil-
fred C. Yandes, tract in Snow Shoe
Twp.; $15.
F. E. Wieland, et ux, to Luther D.
Fye, tract in College Twp.; $300.
Harry Eyer to Clyde Rider, et ux,
tract in Ferguson Twp., $75.
Margaret Davis, et bar, to Harry
Eyer, tract in Ferguson Twp., $65.
$65.
Joseph Shields, et ux to Emily
Wade, et ux, tract in Philipsburg; $1,-
000.
Amelia Gingerich, et bar, to George
K. Long, tract in Gregg Twp.; $600.
Mary A. Weaver to Ivan Walker,
tract in Walker Twp.; $1.
Jessie L. Burt, et bar, to J. W.
Henszey, et ux, tract in State Col-
lege; $1,460.
Chester M. McCormick, et ux, to
Millie E. Campbell, tract in Liberty
Twp.; $25.
Bellefonte Trust company, Exec. to
John T. Merryman, et al, tract in
Boggs Twp.; $705.
William Weber to Frank T. Butler,
tract in Howard; $1.
Frank T. Butler to William Weber,
et al, tract in Howard; $1.
Frank T. Butler to William Weber,
et al, tract in Howard; $1.
William Weber, et ux, to Frank T.
Butler, tract in Howard; $1.
Ollie M. Gault, et al, to Lillie Stev-
enson, tract in Patton Twp., $525.
$525. :
“Not old :
How soon
Co
APPROPRIATION BILLS
PLEASE STATE COLLEGE:
Gratification is expressed by facul-
ty and students of the Pennsylvania.
State college in the unanimous pas-
sage by the general assembly of the
college appropriation measures call-
ed for a total of $6,311,000 for the:
two-year period beginning July 1. The
bills are in keeping with the budget
figures of Governor Fisher and he
has 30 days from the closing date of
the legislative sessions in which to
act upon them.
Had the Penn State bond issue for
buildings been approved last Novem-
ber, $2,000,000 would have been avail-
able for the next two years. As the
bill now stands $2,250,000 would be
allowed from current revenue for new
buildings. Other items include $2,-
350,000 for general maintainance;
$300,000 for agricultural research;
$650,000 for agricultural and home
economics extension and $711,000 for
a deficit. A separate appropriation
measure would grant $50,000 for oil
and gas research.
Just as the State accepted the or-
iginal land grant college act of Con-
gress and pledged its faith to carry
the same into effect through support
of State College, the recent Legisla-
ture accepted the Federal Capper-
Ketchum Act which provides for the
further development of the agricultu-
ral extension service.
——
THEIR ANCESTORS.
The New-Voes
their ancestors. :
At least they've hired some one:
who says that he has.
And they insist upon telling you the
whole history of the family.
Of course, the whole history goes
back several generations.
But it’s all so interesting.
And so full of romance.
It sounds just like a fairy story.
Although it's very much more
beautiful.
And many times more wonderful.
All their ancestors were such nice
people.
And so delightfully simple.
In fact, much simpler than the
New-Voes.
i And they lived simply, too.
! And did simple things.
| So now the New Voes have a crest.
And a very magnificent crest it is.
| Diamond rampant on a field of sap-
phires, set off by rubies and emer-
lds !
They designed it themselves.
© It’s a pity their ancestors can’t see
it.
have discovered
POLITICAL ANNOUNCEMENTS
FOR TAX COLLECTOR
We are authorized 'to announce Orian
! A. Kline as a candidate for Tax Collec-
tor of the Borough of Bellefonte, subject
to the rules governing the Republican
Tayary election to be held Tuesday,
|
|
|
NEW ADVERTISEMENTS.
OTS FOR SALE in Bellefonte, inquire
L
of B. H. Shaffer, 117 east High St.
Bellefonte. 73-13-tf
OURT PROCLAMATION.—WHERE.
AS the Honorable M. Ward Flem-
ing, President Judge of the Court
of Common Pleas of the 49th Judicial Dis
trict, consisting of the County of Centre
having issued his precept, bearing dats
of ninth day of April, 1929, to me direct:
ed for holding a Court of Common Pleas
Orphans’ Court, Court of Quarter Session:
of the Peace. Oyer and Terminer anc
General Jail delivery, in Bellefonte fo:
the County of Centre.
And the Grand Jury to convene on ths
thirteenth day of May 1929, at 10 o’clocl
A. M.,, and the Traverse Jury called fo
the regular meeting of Quarter Session:
Court will convene on the Third Monda;
of May, 1929, at 10 o'clock A. M., being
May 20th. And the Traverse Jury for th:
Second Week of Court will appear th:
. Fourth Monday of May, 1929, at 10 o’cloc]
A. M., being May 27th.
NOTICE is hereby given to the Coroner
Justice of the Peace, Alderman and als
such Constables, (that may have busines
in their) respective districts, requiring t
report to the Honorable Court) that the;
be then and there in their proper person
at the time specified above, with thei
records, inquisitions, examinations, an
their own remembrances, to do thos
things to their offices appertaining to bd
done and those who are bound in recog
nizance to prosecute against the prisoner
that are and shall be in Jail of Centr
County, be then and there to prosecut
against them as shall be just.
Given under my hand, at Bellefonte; th
. 9th day of April in the year of our Lorc
1929 and the 153rd year of the Independ
ence of the United States of America.
; H. E. DUNLAP, Sheri
Sheriff's Office, Bellefonte, Pa. 74-15-4
OTICE.—IN RE Application of tt
Pennsylvania Theta Chapter of ti
' Phi Delta Theta Fraternity, for sa
. isfaction of two mortgages.
In the Court of Common Pleas of Cer
tre County, Pa., No. 27 May Term, 1929
To H. J. PATTERSON, and all other leg
! al representatives of W. C. PATTEF
| SON, a deceased Trustee, and to AL
| HOLDERS OF BONDS secured by tt
! two mortgages hereinafter mentionec
| In accordance with a preliminary deere
| of the Court of Common Pleas of Cent:
{ County, Pennsylvania, dated: and: filed «
record in the above stated proceedin
| March 4, 1829, I, H. E. Dunlap, Sheriff «
the said County of Centre, hereby notii
{ you and each of you that the Pennsylvan
Theta Chapter of the Phi Delta The
Fraternity, has presented and filed in ti
said Court of Common Pleas of Cent
County in the above entitled proceedin
its petition setting forth, among oth
things, that all the bonds secured by tv
! mortgages of the said Fraternity to V
| C. Patterson, Trustee, dated July 2, 1%
{ and recorded in the Recorder's Office f
| Centre County, Pe vania, the fir
' thereof recorded in ortgage Bbok ©
i page 45 &c., to secure ten first mortga;
| bonds in the denomination of LC
amounting in the aggregate to $5000.00, t
gether with interest thereon at the ra
of five and one-half per cent. per annw
' payable semi-annually, and the seco!
i thereof recorded in Mortgage Book ¢
| page 61 &ec., to secure fifty second mor
| gage bonds in the denomination of $100.(
. amounting in the aggregate to $5000.(
| together with interest thereon at t
rate of six per cent. per annum, payak
semi-annually, have been fully d, su
, rendered and destroyed, but that, f
, reasons set forth in said tition, sat:
| faction has not been entered upon the re
{ord of said mortgages, and that the se
petitioner prays for satisfaction of reco
thereof.
You and each of you are hereby furth
notified that by said preliminary decr
of Court you are required to appear
the next term of the said Court of Co!
mon Pleas of Centre County, to wit,
May Term, 1929, beginning on Mods
May 20, 1929, and answer the said pe
tion and show cause, if any, why the se
Court should not direct satisfaction
said two mortgages upon the recc
thereof.
H. E. DUNLAP, Sheri
| 74-15-4t.