— — Bellefonte, Pa., July 11, 1930. DREAMING OF HOME. It comes to me often in silence When the firelight sputters low— When the black, uncertain shadows Seem wraiths of the long ago; Always with a throb of heartache That thrills each pulsive vein Comes the old, unquiet longing For the peace of home again. I'm sick of the roar of cities, And of faces cold and strange; I know where there’s warmth of wel- come And my yearning fancies range Back to the dear old homestead With an aching sense of pain, But there'll be joy in the coming, When I go home again. When I go home again! There's music That never may die away. And it seems that the hands of angels On a mystic harp at play ITave touched with a yearning sadness On a beautiful, broken strain, To which is my fond heart wording— When I go home again. Outside of my darkening window Is the great world’s crash and din, And slowly the autumn shadows Come drifting, drifting in. Sobbing, the low wind murmurs To the splash of the autumn rain, But I dream of the glorious greeting When I go home again. BARS. (Concluded from last issue.) The warden thought the matter over with a queer expression on his face. After a moment he asked. “What attention would Suntly give to you?” “Suntly will listen to a message from me,” Cotter answered slowly. “Do you know him?” “Yes, Mr. Warden, I know him. I know Henry Suntly. I—I grew up with him.” “Is that so? I'm surprised to hear that. But tell me, Cotter, do you know this man Martin who is ac- cused of the robbery?” “I never saw him in my life,” Cotter answered steadily. “But I know he isn't guilty and I believe that Suntly is out to convict him. I read it all in the papers—what Martin said about his own innocence, and the public promise Suntly has made to clean up the town. He's making an example of Martin, Mr. Warden. Making an example of an innocent man.” “How could you possibly know that, Cotter?” the Warden asked. “You've been cooped up here for five years.” “Yes, sir. But I know!” In his earnestness, Cotter leaned over the desk and pressed his tense face close to that of the Warden. “I know, sir,” he repeated. “I know! I know!” “How do you know?” snapped. “Because I heard the crime plan- ned right here within these walls!” Cotter rasped hoarsely. “Knowing who did it, Mr. Warden, I know who didn’t do it!” Kelsh rose abruptly from his seat and braced his fingertips on the edge of the desk. He returned Cot- ter’s steady gaze. “You know full well what you're saying ?” he demanded. “As God is my judge,” Cotter an- swered simply. “And the message you would send Suntly is what?” Kelsh asked. Kelsh “Just what I have told you, sir— that I know this Martin is innocent because I know who is guilty. There were two of the robbers and the newspaper accounts of the crime tally exactly with the plan I heard perfected here in this prison before the men were liberated. Martin had nothing to do with it.” “Suntly ll never believe you,” the Warden grunted. “He'll pay no attention to your story.” “Suntly will believe me,” Cotter Snapped. There was fight in his face, for the first time since he had donned his suit of blue. “He will Mr. Warden, He's got to! Tell him I sent the message, Mr. Warden. Say this to him: Cotter knows many other things. Tell him I a i at to convict Martin. e m in those v Mr. Warden.” Sy ards “Are you out of your head?” | Kelsh gasped. ‘Who are you to send such a message to the Dis. trict Attorney? Henry _Suntly is the biggest political figure in the State? He can be Governor if he likes.” : “Tell him what I say,” repeated steadily. ‘Please tell him, Mr. Warden. I know who he is. I know what he is, too. That's how I know he'll believe me. Let him be Governor if he likes, But de- liver my message or have an inno- cent man sent up here to worry your heart out for five or 10 years. I've told you the gospel truth, Mr. Warden. The responsibility is yours.” There was no doubting Cotter. He spoke with the ring of truth in his voice. The Warden paused, trying to assemble these amazing facts in his mind. After a time he demand- ed: “Who were the two men planned this thing?” Cotter pressed his lips into a straight line. His eyes blazed scorn of the question. “You'll be apt to lose your flower Cotter who work unless you tell,” Kelsh said, his eyes narrowly watching the convict. The face of the man blanched, and a queer sound struggled into being, but died in his throat. He pulled his blue cap taut between his fin- gers, then said slowly “I'd boil in hell, Mr. Warden, hefore I answer you that.” ‘I'd be the same way in your place,” the Warden said, as though thinking aloud. Then: “Go ahead Cotter, with those roses at the far end of the porch. IT make you this promise: I'll tell Suntly personally all that you have told me, If he insists on questioning you later that’s not my fault.” A smile of delight spread over the convict’s pale face. ‘Thank you, Mr. Warden. Deliver my mes- sage exactly as I told it, please. Be exact, and Suntly won't bother me.” Then he was gone through the door on to the porch. : It was the visit of a horticulturist which served once again to break the commonplace relationship be- tween Kelsh and Cotter. The dis- play which Cotter was able to offer in the prison flower bed roused tre- mendous interest. A horticulturist society sent a asked that Cotter might write an article for their magazine. Kelsh found no regulation which prevented such a procedure, and he promptly granted the permission. Cotter just as promptly declined to do it. ter,” he told the visitor, “but the world outside this prison has ceased to exist for me. One memory of it I treasure. There is no other in- terest left me. I live for my flower beds here, and want no contact with the world. It never did any thing but lie to me.” “You disappointed that fellow, Cotter,” the Warden said, when an article of your own.” Cotter smiled wanly and shrugged an answer. “By the way, Cotter,” the War- den continued, “Your prophecy about Henry Suntly came true. I deliver- ed your message exactly as you requested. He seemed to understand, he would immediately look into the matter of the Roger Martin case. “I presume, inasmuch as I have nevey heard of a trial, that he | found you to be right and liberated Martin.” “Yes, the convict said, ‘he found me to be right and liberated Martin. It was the only just thing to do. I watched the papers closely and saw that the indictment against the fellow had been nolle prossed.” “What a break for him!” said. “For all you know he’ll never have the faintest idea that you are the man who saved him.” . “That is a small matter,” said slowly. “I like to have the knowledge that I did the right thing. to my cell with me at night.” “In some ways,” the Warden said with the utter frankness that offi- cials inhis position affects toward State wards, “you're just as balmy as a coot.” “Perhaps so,” Cotter nodded agreeably. “But I'm happy in it.” “Exactly,” Cotter nodded vigor- ously. I'm a very much happier man than you are, Mr. Warden. My only recollection of the outside ‘world is a happy one. I found a very beautiful thing out there, sir. Took it for what I thought it to be. The fact that it was imitation did not prevent its showing me what ‘the genuine could be.” “You're getting pretty deep for me,” Kelsh grinned. “Those books you read are pretty heavy stuff. But I'm glad that you're settled and happy. The thought struck me the day I talked with Suntly that the contrast between you two boyhood friends had suddenly grown pretty sharp. He's a big public ser- | vant “and you—well—you see what I mean.” “I see perfectly,” Cotter nodded. “But I wouldn't change places with Suntly or any other man on earth, Mr. Warden, Everything in my thoughts is beautiful. I would rath- er have a bed than the bunk I sleep in, but I'll gladly sleep in the bunk in order to remain here with my flowers,” he smiled. Kelsh seemed for the moment serious. “You know; Cotter,” he said speculatively, “I get a real thrill out of the situation you and Suntly present. The business of justice being directed by a murderer doing natural life, through a power- ful District Attorney who dangles on the end of a string the lifer “I had the truth, that’sall,” the prisoner answered, but as he spoke he became uneasy and turned away, The Warden detained him. “I'm not going to question you against your will, old man,” he as- jSured him, “but I've given the mat- { ter. quite a little thought. You've been here a long time, now, Cotter. A long time even as time in prison goes. I've grown to like you and understand you. You don’t seem morose, yet your crime. Cotter, is the sort thatis apt to prey upon one’s mind.” “I committed no crime, Mr. War- den,” the convict answered steadily. “What I did was anything but a crime.” “You've always admitted the kill- ing of your wife! Kelsh gasped, “Oh, yes! But you see that only from the material side. If Ithought I had done wrong I would be mis- erable,” Cotter answered. Kelsh laughed and shook his head. The Warden paused again, and his eyes fixed themselves steadily {upon Cotter. There was tremen- ! dous suggestion in the glance, | the convict met it with no sign of i understanding. | “All politicians would like to be i Governor,” Kelsh prompted. Cotter merely nodded in the affirmative and | again turned as though he would ‘leave. Once again Kelsh stopped { him. | “It’s pretty evident,” he said, { “that you've a lot of weight - with | | Henry = Suntly. I've been thinking i what a situation would arise if he i were Governor. It might mean a | pardon for you, Cotter.” ; “No,” the convict said slowly. { “No, Mr. Warden, it wouldn't mean a pardon.” A | Kelsh shrugged. “Well, keep your | secret if you like,” he said. “But {I'll watch with a good deal of in- , terest. Suntly, my friend, is the next Governor of this State just as representative who" “You cannot understand the mat- . finally the horticulturist had left. “He wanted to use your name over asked how you were and told me Kelsh | Cotter : I like to take that thought pulls, is an unusual picture indeed.” : but | sure as you're a foot high. I have never before known a case where the Governor was under the thumb of a natural lifer. It'll be fun to watch.” Cotter made no reply, Warden smiled wonderingly. <All right, Cotter,” he said. “Go back to your flowers. Every man has a right to his own thoughts.” “Thank you, Mr. Warden,” Cotter mumbled. “The finest thing you have ever done was to give me these flowers. I love them, sir. Life would be unbearable without them. I will always be happy so long as I have them.” “Okay, old man,” Kelsh answered kindly. “I guess I needn't tell you that you'll have them as long as I'm Warden here,” “I hope that'll be as long as you wish, sir.” : “It’s got to last quite a while,” Kelsh laughed. “What good would I be for anything else at this late day?” Henry Suntly conducted his cam- paign for the Goverorship of the State along the lines of reform. He laid a heavy hand upon corruption- and the ists, trained the light of investiga- tions upon State institutions of all kinds and carried to the people of the electorate a conviction that such {a man as himself was needed at the helm of state affairs. i Kelsh read every campaign speech the man made, and he wondered more and more about the strange | relationship between this outstanding public man and Cotter, the natural lifer who worked in his garden. He knew without asking that Cot- ter was following the campaign with an interest even closer than his own. But he never sopke to the man of it; never tried to make the convict express an opinion. When election day rolled around Kelsh received the returns at the prison. The campaign had centered very largely upon issues of reform in State institutions, and the keepers of the prison, from the warden down, felt a greater interest than usual. The feeling was general that Suntly’s election would call for sweeping investigations and many : changes in methods. { Many of the prison employees gathered in the offices and watched , the returns on election night. i By 10 o'clock the big metropolitan daily that had most bitterly oppos- ed Suntly conceded his election as Governor. Kelsh received this news with mingled emotions. ! None knew better than he the , dire results of an inexperienced hand endeavoring to change ‘the routine of a prison. Yet, in spite of , that, his first thoughts on reading { of the election of Suntly was not of the prison and the troubles that ; must come to it. It was of the “silent natural lifer, Cotter, | Attuated by he hardly knew what | the Warden stepped from his office ; out. into: the prison yard and stroll- . ed toward the cell block where Cot- ter was locked. He nodded to the ! guards as he entered. They met in the room reserved for the use of the Parole Board. { The Governor was the more ner- ;vous of the two. He paced ‘the | floor while a guard went for Cotter, {and when the man was brought in {he gasped at his first sight of him. i “I'm sorry, John,” he said stam- i meringly. “Sorry to find you like this.” He glanced suggestively at ithe Warden, who started toward i the door. Cotter put out a detain- ing hand. i “I want the Warden to stay, Hen- ‘ry,” he said quietly. “You need offer me mno sympathy. I'm the happiest man in the world.” { There was a moment of embar- i rassed silence during which the con- vict seemed to realize that restrict- ed use of words had left him par- tially inarticulate. “I came to see you,” Suntly said, 1 “because the Warden requested it.” { “The Warden demanded it,” Cot- . ter corrected steadily. “I want you ; to know that there is nothing I i want for myself from you. I de- mand only that you allow the { Warden to remain here in charge iof the prison as long as you are ! Governor.” 1 “That's going a little far,” Sunt- ‘ly said slowly. “After all, I'm “Governor of this State and must | think first of the people who elect- ied me. I have not been entirely i satisfied with the reports that come : to me.” i “Stop!” Cotter snapped suddenly. | He stood in the center of the room with his baggy clothes hanging ~about his person and his untidy ‘hair a mat upon his head. But Do you know that | trust you, I've never even hoped to; there was power about him. “I say, Henry Suntly,” he pro- , nounced slowly, “that you will do jas I ask. I am going to tell you : something you never knew-—some- i thing that you only sugpected—some- i thing which has hung over your ‘head all these years.” { “Your own case,” Suntly inter- i rupted hastily, “has been in my { mind, John. I had thought of con- i sidering a pardon. After all—an | actress” — {| “Do not stop me, Henry,” Cotter i said. “I want no pardon from you, {nor from anybody. I got you here to tell you the truth. You and the {| Warden. For her sake, Inever have told it before.” He paused as though gathering his words, then leaned for support upon a chair and, with his eyes fastened steadily upon the Gover- | nor, told his story. So simple and so stark was it that they did not interrupt him. “That day,” he said, “when the : pistol came so ready to my hand, { Henry—you don’t know what was to have happened later. You don't know that Sunny, as we always called her, was going to you. She had been vith you before, Henry. You had both lied to me about that. { “And that pistol-—she had that, Henry.” ‘He laughed shortly. ¢She was taking it with her to kill you!” “We were all so young: then, and she . was - so: inexperienced. I _ find ino fault with you now. I merely state the facts. She had trusted you, Henry, and you lied to her, as she did to me. Then you scorned her. I know, Henry! Oh, how well I know! You wrote her that letter, I remember every word of it. I see it now.” He raised a gaunt hand stained deep with the color of earth and seemed to point at the letter there before him, He was transported by his own story back to the hour of his crime. “I came home earlier than usual, he said slowly. “Sunny was just leaving and I knew that something was wrong. Her eyes were wild and ‘she cringed before me, afraid. She tried to slip past me and reach the door. I caught her hand, and the bag she carried jerked open. The pistol was there. It was the first thing I saw, and I snatched it from the bag in amazement. Sunny fought me to get it back. “She was quite insane, I think. She taunted me with her own deceit —and yours. Then she hurled the letter at me. It fell at my feet and I read it, with the gun clutched in one hand and Sunny twisting there on the divan. “You told her she was a fool, Henry. A fool to bother you and run the risk of losing a husband who could provide well for her, and hadn't brains enough to see that he (had no other function. You said to her, Henry, that she wasn’t the kind of a woman a man could take seri- ously. Then you asked her to be sensible and burn the letter and let you alone”. | Once again Cotter stopped. His face was twisted and his eyes burn- ed with a dull agony that held the others speechless. “A sordid mess, eh, Henry?" he sneered finally. “You never knew 1 saw the letter, perhaps. You thought that Sunny had done as you wished with it, and I had dis- covered another intrigue in her life’ and so killed her. “But you never were quite certain. There remained always a doubt in your mind. The bigger you grew Henry, the more this worried you. Now you have the truth. I shot her because sheloved you, Henry. Loved you and hated you, and sooner or later would have killed you. “I loved her. So I killed her and kept her name clean. It was for her I did it, just as I said that day when she lay there before me. I hated you—hate you now as a man hates a creeping thing, Henry. But you were both very young. “They found the gun in my hand, Henry—but not the letter. Where is the letter?” He laughed sharply, his voice high and threatening to crack. “Where is it? They never found that.” His gaunt hands gripped the chair and he leaned forward and glared. “I—know—where—it—is,” he said, spacing each word: “I know where to get it and hand it to the news- papers, Henry, with the signature of their Governor blazed across its face.” He laughed again. “Yes,” he repeated, “I know where it is, and so does the Warden. We alone know. ! “Tell me, now,” he finished sud- nly, “that the Warden remains ‘here. Tell me that, Henry. And tell him. And tell this committee of yours, and the newspapers.” The next day Warden Kelsh stood again on the porch above the garden and looked down upon the stooping brown figure there at work among the flowers. “I see by the morning papers, Cot- ter,” he said, “that the fight between the Governor and myself has come to a happy ending. According to this account his visit yesterday was for the sole purpose of checking up on the situation here. What he saw caused him to express com- plete confidence in my incorruptible efficiency. ” “Yes, sir,” the convict nodded, faint smile about his lips. “I'm glad, Mr. Warden.” “There’s no reason,” the said, “why your case shouldn’t brought before him.” “But there is, Mr. Warden,” Cot- ter said earnestly. “As God above judges me, there is. I want no par- don. I want to remain here, sir. Here I have found the simple things that never fail a man. Here, among the flowers, I have found peace and happiness and quiet. If you are my friend, there will never be a pardon sir.” “I can understand that feeling,” Kelsh nodded. “I know of at least three men here who would not go. You are the fourth. They have been here so long, you see, But with your education—your background”— “I have no worries now. I'm set- tled for life. I want no change. What others think is hard I. have come to accept with no suffering. My books and my flowers are my own. The confinement of prison is a pro- tection more than a curse to me, sir. ciety, so does it keep society away from me. ceased to mind. They are less hard than what I should have to meeton the outside as a pardoned murderer.” a So official be “As you wish. But I am your friend, Cotter. Your real friend.” “I thank you, Mr. Warden. They stood looking at each other a moment. Kelsh shrugged at last. “I guess, after all, a man can’t deal anything but the with.” Cotter smiled faintly and nodded, “That letter,” Kelsh said at last. “That one of Suntly’s kept. ing hidden it, how did you get it out of the apartment, Cotter, before | coming up here?” The gardener straightened and a smile twisted at his lips. “That letter,” he said, “I burned, Mr. War- den, before they found me standing over Sunny. I burned it in the fireplace and ground the ashes un- der my heel. I had to do that to protect her, But.I knew that Henry Suntly would be afraid to challenge me. A manmgwho is a coward witha woman is doubly so with a man.” “He's a smart politician, Cotter,” Kelsh said sagely. ‘“He’s due for eight years in office, so we've little If it keeps me away from so- The restrictions I have “Life is a queer game,” cards given him to play. which you How did you hide it, or hav- SUBSTITUTE FOR COTTON DISCOVERED. Alma Alta, Kazakstan, Soviet Re- public, U.S.S.R., (UP)—Believing that it has discovered a cheap and effective cotton substitute in the Asiatic “kendyr” plant ,the Soviet government is undertaking its culti- vation on a large scale in Kazakstan. Alexander Krasnachokoff who heads a special Kendyr Trust creat- ed for this enterprise, told visiting correspondents that within two years the kendyr crop will amount to at least one-third the present cotton production in the Soviet Union, Eventually he foresees a place in the world market for kendyr which may deeply encroach upon the economic domain of cot- ton, A state plantation of 45,000 acres is in the process of formation for the purpose at Zil-Orda, where a dam is being erected for irrigation uses on the Syr-Darya river. Several smaller plantations are already func- tioning in other parts of this region. The plans call for an extension of the undertaking to northern Cauca- sus and Ukraine. Kendyr—a mongolian word mean- ing fibre—carries the official Latin designation “apocynum sibiricum.” In Canada, where it is sometimes found, it is designated less elegant- ly as dog’s death.” The plant grows in bushes, with long stems compos- ed of a hemplike fibre which when boiled or subjected to certain chem- ical treatment, can be used for weav- ing textiles. M. Krasnachokoff, now engaged in developing kendyr, started his Soviet career more spectacularly as President of the Far Eastern Repub- lic, in China. He spent many years before that in the United States, where he was especially well known in radical circles of Chicago. After the China presidency, he was en- gaged in Soviet banking, a job in which he was accused of living too expensively and punished with a prison ‘term. The present chairmanship of the Kendyr Trust is the first rung of a ladder on which he begins once more to climb into public life here. He explained that kendyr is a much hardier plant than cotton. It grows in colder as well as more arid regions. This enables its culti- vation in large areas where cotton cannot be ' acclimated. Moreover, kendyr production per acre is far greater than cotton yield and involves less investment of labor. A mechanical device developed by Soviet engineers makes it possible to weave kendyr with ordinary cot- ton spindles. Mills for kendyr tex- tiles are going up in Moscow and in Alma-Ata, BEFORE BUYING FORD STOCK CONSULT YOUR BANKER, A warning against fraudulent brokers and promoters who are of- fering stock in foreign Ford motor companies has been issued by the Betiter Business Bureau of Detroit, in conjunction with the national bet- ter business bureau and affiliated offices throughout the United States and Canada. Relying on the good will and in- tegrity of the Ford name, thousands of persons throughout the country have purchased stocks which either turned out to be spurious or were not delivered at all, the warning said. There is no way of estimating the financial loss involved. “There are a number of fraudu- lent concernsin various parts of the country that represent themselves as brokerage houses and that offer stocks in various foreign Ford com- panies,” the statement from the Better Business Bureau said. “Several of these companies on the partial payment plan. They offer stock for a stipulated down payment anda fixed sum per month. Before the final payment becomes due and before the stock is delivered to the purchaser, the company goes out of business and its officers dis- appear only to begin operations at another location and under another name. “Stocks of the Ford Motor Com- pany of England, Ltd. and the Ford Motor Company of France are list- ed on the New York Curb market and the prices at which they are currently selling are printed in the financial pages of the newspapers. Nevertheless many persons are being led by unscrupulous brokers to sell pay far in excess of the market prices. “The majority of stock brokers, of course, are honest. Our warning is directed solely against the fraud- ulent concerns that carry on their fleecing of the public under the guise of reputable concerns. Anyone contemplating the purchase of stocks ' should first consult his local banker. ' TO TRY TO PHOTOGRAPH THOUGHT IN MIND. graph thought two Frenchmen, Dr. Barduc, Major Daiget and an Austrian scientist, Dr. Feerhow. They are working on the assumption that thought photography is possible when a medium concentrates sufficiently on ia particular idea in complete dark- ness. The intense concentration, claimed, sends out waves of from the forehead, invisible to the naked eye, but accessible to the camera in the same way that ultra violet rays are accessible. is being. made by it is light | enough to worry us. But, as you say, he’s certainly a coward. He knows nothing of the sort of cour- ‘age you showed in sharing the se- cret you've kept inviolate until its telling would help a friend.” i Cotter turned silently away and {and bent again to his work. It iwas as though he buried there in [the earth the secret which he fi- I nally had shared, andthat secret took {root and blossomed and made a | flowerbed.— ' Copyrighted by the ‘Smart Set. A sensational attempt to photo- ' and : FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN. Daily Thought. They say the world is round and yet I often think it square, So many little hurts we get From corners here and there; But there's one truth in life I've found ‘While journeying East and West, The only folks we really wound Are those we love the best. We flatter those we scarcely know We please the fleeting guest, And deal full many a thoughtless blow To those we love the best. —Lizards, python, water snake, and other reptile skins are popular for trims in footwear this season. Pumps are stepping along, but the instep strap and oxfords hold their own. Overblouses, of a color contrasting with the suit, are in again. Some of them actually go over the skirt with a peplum or belt attached to cover the skirt top. Every self- respecting costume now has a belt. Large, gaily covered chiffon hand- kerchiefs add a dash to the ward- rode. Cap sleeves, three-quarter sleeves and old fashioned “angel” sleeves are up in arms again. The latest skirt length is four or five inches below the knee for street and sports; eight or ten inches be- low for afternoon; and full length for evening. —For the thrifty housewife’s rec- ipe files, a left over section proves useful. It contains recipes for us- ing left over vegetables nd meats, hard bread, and sour milk and cream. —In modern homes systematic house cleaning has replaced the old- fashioned spring upheaval when tempers and furnishings of the whole household were usually up- set together. —Instead of discarding the large green outer leaves of lettuce, wash them carefully, trim off any brown sections, shred with shears, and use as a garnish or as the salad foun- dation. —Ii may be some kind friend has sent you a case of ginger ale, in which case you are singularly bless- ed in the matter of friends. For you can prepare wonderfully delicious, tinklingly cool beverages with the able aid of iced ginger ale. For instance, here’s a Peter Piper Punch which is delightful for chil. dren—and you know that ginger ale is good for children, don’t “you. Combine a pint of grape juice, a ‘pint of cold water and a quarter jcup of sugar. Pour in a punch i bowl over a block of ice. Add two | bottles of ginger ale; do not stir in order to retain the sparkle and i carbonation of the ginger ale. | Then, in case you are giving a i mid-summer dance, youll want a ; whole bowlful of punch. Here's a recipe for Ye Olde Wassail Bowl: | Make a syrup of four cups of wa- ter, two cups of sugar, boiling ten minutes. Add twelve cloves, a stick of cinnamon, six allspice berries and a tablespoon of pulverized ginger. | Let stand covered an hour. Strain iand add a quart of orange juice, the juice of eight lemons and a quart of cider. Pour over a block of ice. ,and add a quart of orange juice, the la garnish add crabapples roasted until the skins have burst and then chilled. I have allowed generous proportions for this beverage—it will : be enough for forty people, provid- ling they take just one glassful i apiece. | 2a { Italian Medley.—There's a bever- ‘age for the cosmopolite. Place the { juice of a half lemon, the juice of | a half orange and a tablespcon of white grape juice in a shaker with i a teaspoon of powdered sugar and a jcup of cracked ice. Shake until i the ice is well melted. Pour in tall - | glasses and fill with ginger ale. Gar- nish with fruit in season and top off with a teaspoon of ice cream or orange ice. A Julep.—Not the time-honored ‘ Southern Julep, but a very modern ' version thereof —is made thusly: Place a sprig of mint in a tall glass rand crush with a spoon. Add the ! juice of -one lime and half a lemon, a tablespoon of powdered sugar and ‘ thin parings from the half lemon. Place on the ice one hour to ripen, , Strain; fill the glass half full of the | mixture, and top with ginger ale. . Garnish with a fresh spray of mint , inserted in a thin slice of orange. —Pillows that have been in con- stant use throughout the year. may need freshening. This is particularly «true if they have been used in a sickroom. June is a good month for any of the work connected with ren- | ovating the bedding, but especially ‘the pillows because of the many mild sunny days available when they “will dry easily. Pillows can be washed by either of two methods, The first method of washing them is without remov- ing the feathers. Scrub the pillow in a weak washing soda solution, using a good suds. Repeat in a second suds if necessary. Rinse in lukewarm walter, changing it two or three times. If an extractor is used, extract, and then dry the pil- lows on a sheet in a warm place, preferably in the sun. Otherwise squeeze out as much of the excess water as possible and dry in the same way. Beat the pillows from time to time during the drying. The second and more satisfactory way is to transfer the feathers to a muslin bag two or three times the size of the ticking by sewing’ the edges of the openings of the ticking and the bag together and shaking the feathers from one to the other. Wash and dry the bag of feathers in the same way as a whole pillow. After the ticking has been washed separately apply a very stiff starch mixture to the inside with a sponge to close the pores of the material and prevent the feathers from work- ing . through. Refill the ticking in the same way it was emptied.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers