Bellefonte, Pa, Murch 11, 1882 THE BUILDER An old man going a lone highway Came at evening, cold and gray, To a chasm deep and dark and wide. = The old man crossed in the twi- light dim; The sullen stream held no fear for him, But he turned when safe on the other side, And built a bridge to span the tide. “Old man,” near, “You are wasting your time to build a bridge here, Your journey will end with the close of day, You never again will pass this way; said a fellow pilgrim You have crossed the chasm so dark and wide. Why build a bridge here at even- tide?" The builder lifted his old gray head: “Good friend, in the way I tread, There followeth after me today A youth whose feet must pass this way. This chasm which has been as naught to me To this fair-haired youth a pitfall be; He, too, must cross in the twilight dim; Good friend. I am building the bridge for him.” “GIVE ME YESTERDAY” A burst gas main in the King's road, Chelsea, had split and tossed the paving for a hundred yards. Under the direction of the police and arrow-shaped signs with the words “A. A. Loopway to Sloane Square,” the ¢ was switched up a side street and along devious ways back to the main thorough- fare. Twelve years had gone by since Conway Farnol was last in the neighborhood of Leaders Grove. Too much of his life was buried there to encourage him to revisit it. There is something morbid about project- ing oneself into the past and White Lodge was the scene of memories which ran back to the stereoscopi- cally clear impressions of early childhood. Had a choice been offered, he would have taken any other route, but the police, the yellow arrows and the procession of traffic ruled out alternatives. He was compelled to go that way, and against his will all manner of memories, safer forgotten, inevitably would arise. Already he could feel them crowding up and jostling one another in his brain. As a boy of 6 he used to buy G g Bounders at that sweet- stuff shop, penny packets of stationery window, and the open door The old Tady in the t wore glasses with strong low- er halves to the lenses. He recalled the cutting pincers she used for chopping up hardbake and cocoanut ice. On that corner was the public house where he had seen his first drunk—a man with a blue birth- mark with violent gestures. In Chel- sea it is the fashion for slums to be sandwiched between better-class styeets. Leaders Grove, with its gerdens of pink guelder-rose and acacia, cut through the heart of squalor. Its approacn was flanked by the public house and a rag and bone shop, unspeakably base and arrogant, whose pusters shrieked aloud for “Fifty Tons of Kitchen Stuff.” Bottles and spokeless wheels littered the pavement before its greasy windows. As Conwav Farnol followed the bus ahead, his heart thumped ex- pectantly. He was bei thrown back into the past, and the - fence filled him with trepidation. Lifting his eyes in search of land- marks, he saw that many had van- ished. The terrace of houses before White Lodge had gone, and where once they stood was a barren acre- age of broken ground and tumbled brickwork. oe The remorseless hand of progress had closed upon Leaders Grove and was effacing it. Conway Farnol with slate pencils and “Batey’'s Ginger the who served i EEE :: i a 5 i : ® § fF : E I “1 used to Ive here,” suid Fa | lamely. e some | was called for. | The workman sucked a | “Must've bin long time age. | Lidy 'n' a youngster was livin’ | five year back—'cos I done a | for ‘er— ph," “Yes. Quite a time ago. I've abroad since the war.” | The answer was mechani word * had set 1 ‘what? Fourteen. The pe ‘used to stand under the | bush. It was there when he | the house. There was a net over the | perambulator, for it had an adven- | turous babe, who once had rolled | himself out for his first exploration. Dear stars, how the memory of that alarm came sweeping on him. The shriek of the fut : ? : i | rush from the house-—-the certainty that kidnappers had been at work, and then a grimy morsel of human- ity crawling out of the patch of lilacs on the center ped and crow- ing with delight. had been stamped flat, the lilacs were broken or uprooted and not enough cover remained to hide a cat. The center bed {of a boy. It was a dirty face, “If you want an eyeful of the ole place you could get it x goin’ roun’ the back. Garden wall's down in two or three places,” said the man. It seemed to Farnol that many walls were down, and it was hard to understand why one of those walis had ever been erected. War nerves, perhaps, but, with the pass- age of time, what rubbish that phrase sounded. Why should nerves | habitually of war or peace persuade a man to demolish what must have been, surely, the best of his possessions? And now he was crossing thcse walls for the third time, but the walls were down and only a series of jagged brick courses marked where once they stood. The garden wall of White Lodge had been breached by clumsy and destructive hands, and looked as though some giant had bitten at it twice and spewed out the indigestible mouth- fuls. The use, with its vines, which had been his mother's pride, was a chaos of smashed transoms and glass. A more pitiable sight could not have been imagined. Even the lily pond was clogged with rub- bish. Those friends of his boyhood, the golden carp, had gone. Scooped out, no doubt, by dirty hands and borne away triumphantly in dirty m jars. With a feeling of disgust, Farnol turned his back on the house and covered his eyes. This wanton tear- ing down of so many landmarks dear to memory carried with it a bitterness that was intense. Where he was standing he and Elsa had stood side by side on their wedding day. For theirs had been a garden wedding, and the garden was filled with guests. With his eyes shut he could im- agine them standing by to congratu- late. Silk hats, morning coats and the multicolored dresses of women. He remembered the words of an old lady. “A lovely wife and a love- ly house, my dear. Long may you live to enjoy them both!” i 5 FEI and the tricky bit, g ¥ It) Ef th of those thirty- o nailed head nails across | rusty of one nurse—the | the leather toe cap of his shoe. “Are you still there?” he mused aloud. i And a voice above answered, | “Didn't think you'd spotted me.” . 3 From pos of the smaller branches ung a r of not very long flannel legs. Peering Sh iy them with an expression of mingled caution and mischief was the face but the appearance of being so—the art was of sur- face variety and not ingrained. Its owner wore a clean collar, a school tie, and his shoes bore evi-! dence of parental reputability. “If you want me to come down I will,” said he, and added with a grin, “unless you mean to chase me off at the top.” “Chase?” Conway repeated, didn’t know you were there.” “Then what on earth did you shin up the tree for?” Conway Farnol was not prepared to answer that question. “That's entirely my own affair,” he replied loftily, which, in view of his arborial situation, was a depressingly grown up rejoinder. However, the boy didn't seem notice that. “You're a whaler climbing,” said he. Praise from the young, being rare, is unfailingly welcome. It robbed Conway of the embarrass- ment he felt in being discovered. “Thanks,” he said. “The way you tackled that tricky bit was hot. Are you the ground landlord 7” “No.” “No, of course you're not.” “Why of course?” He would like the boy to have believed he had proprietorial rights in this place. “He'd have told me to bunk.” Ah! That sort!” said Conway, with the subtle suggestion that better men than the ground land- lord were to be met. “You stopping there long, sir?” “Wh ™ “I ought to be getting down.” Conway smiled. “Don’t let stop you—there are two ways." ‘No, only one—now.” Conway pointed at a long limb stretching east of the main trunk. The boy shook his head and Q. a flick of the hand that was : familiar. “No good. I've tried, but the bough's got too strong, or I'm without “1 to at me not heavy enough.” A wonderful year, and then the war and change-—the change that wrought havoc to so many men and women--the war that taught them to smash and abandon in the name of freedom. And what a freedom! | She, that other she, who had | driven in a car after he was wound- ed and given a staff appointment what was her real worth? At the time he had not troubled to ask that question, for her empty head was a pleasant anesthetic. She had ‘a mou | with the honey of praises and kiss- es. Little, careless and loving, she jused the war as a pleasure hack. | Infinitely kind she could be, for the little while a mogd of kindness last- ed. An and inconsistent and e— | sense to realize it. but the drumfire desirabl anybody's woman, if he had had the “Heavy enough for what?” Con- way asked, with a queer note in his voice. “To make it dip, you can step off.” There was a hot feeling in Con- way's throat. “Who told you it would dip like that?” “My mother. She discovered it— oh, ages ago—first time she ever! met my father. Conway said nothing. It was a strange—yet likely--place to meet his own son. For a moment he felt of course, so dizzy. of geranium red, sweet’ meral creature—light “My mother's Mrs. Farnol. We lived here, vou know.” ! “Did you?” “That's why all this is such a lark.” “Is it?” said Conway, and put a foot into space. From above came I Re t Mm fall. I l out, you . It's joll easy to fall there.” Jolly of Passchenddele had knocked the ‘sense out of him and left only the! ' senses. It is easy to judge the value in ' retros ‘magnitude of one's own self tion. 1 wise and everready to t and hard to credit the ~decep- may have been less than Conway Farnol embraced the tree | trunk, swiveled round it, put his foot into the crotch and lowered himself lightly Beside him aud "paeren Toes lig and into ‘his face with concern. | ; feproach. | War strain and the bringing forth ‘of a child are seldom a lesson in ped the car and got out. A melan- domestic psychology. She could no choly sight met his eyes. To right and left the ground looked like a excitement than he could endure battlefield in which the old house was the one object left in Empty and forlorn, it stood, smashed windowpanes that looked like wounds. The vandals of the neighborhood had been at work and left it sightless and ravished, a mutilated ghost. Tiles had showered into the front garden and laid bare the of the roof. Like the ribs of a skele- ton they leaned against the ; An urchin poked his head through one of the lower windows and dis- appeared like a rat. The last head Farnol had seen at that window was Elsa's—his wife's. was the last time he had seen her. She had come to the window, doubting the sincerity of his threat to leave the house and walk out of | her life forever. But although aware of her presence, he had driven away without a backward glance. It was hard, aftr so long, to credit the violent emotions parting and harder still to credit that the room in which she had stood was then alovely room, cream white with chintzes, the glowing sweetness of old furniture and the dignity of books. As he saw it now it was a black and ugly hole, into which the re- fuse of the eifalorhovd had been Adige. With S Suton of ng unwillingly upon a corpse, Conway Farnol crossed the road and pushed at the iron gate of the front; garden. The gate was locked, and, al he had no timbers | preluded their his more understand his craving | her failure to take part in it. .| “Haven't I earned a good time?” | he asked himself. The Yyeation was prevalent | 1919 e and Elsa were out of itouch and out of sym . Domes- pathy. The in- | ticity bore down upon him. fant son was almost a ia Stanger who senien to be ing own place He had that {The French telegram, slips stuck to a folded bl | The leave—a dash to | crossing spray and | Finally, ye ‘hours spent here in § garden, ‘to a light in | window on upper | was lifting his head ‘ney pots when his arms for the first Was it possible, for the empty head, idle praises sweet red mouth, a have forgotten all that? W to blame? He -Elsa—the war? fl floor. fo! tf; Es Ef ii wrinkles he migh taught the boy, if selfish ve ah the ly and immense. | pretty good ik - fine | 1 | in nodded. “My | special And that logne—a car and train—the Channel and then for “You look awfully queer, sir.” Conway Fubibed his forehead with “ ou, to me.” . Why not?” “Of course—w et His eyes fastened on the boy's school tie. “Canterford,” he said. The boy: first term.” i “I wonder why your mother sent you there.” | nen ot owing ae an ast at rugger, you know.’ was a u know the school, sir?” : well. I was there myself \” ] “Ah, said the yo erently, politeness . “What “Pre average—then.” Folloned a moment of mutual awkwardness. ho “I used to be. Why did you shut up when I said I knew your father?” Harvey looked at his hands, self- “Gosh! Aren't I in a The question had offénded him, Th too young to say so “You'd rather talk about your mother, perhaps?” i dled Harvey shuffled his feet, an oper- ;{one of ber lands in His. "Wien We “Et ming aiking spout my 1 though A aie that | - t you | Bh, pion of him.” not?” “He's done precious little for you, old ” 2 hap! saw the color m to his son's cheeks—an angry For a moment he hesitated, then blurted out truculently: “That's what he said.” “He?” “The chap who's trying to marry | my mother. i that?” said Conway, “What's “It's true. He said it at lunch to- day. Donno why I'm telling you, but somehow one can talk to strang- ers easier than a person you know.” Conway's nod of assent cost him an effort. There was no earthly reason why Elsa should not marry again, and after all, he was a strang- er. “After all,” he sas, “my father played for England two seasons running and got a D. S. O. in the war. That's more than he'll ever do. “S'pose there's no reason why you should be interested,” said he and stuffed his hands into his pock- et and marched away. Conway Farnol made no effort to follow. There was a sugar box be- neath the mulberry tree, and feel- ing old and lonely, he sat down and fumbled for a cigarette. Across the melancholy train of his thoughts came a woman's voice | calling, “Harvey, Harvey.” The pink evening glow illuminat- ed Elsa as she stepped through the gap in the broken wall. She was accompanied by a man with whom Conway was unacquainted but whose identity it was easy to guess. He put out a hand to prevent her stumbling, but Elsa either failed to see or had no need or the hand, for, ignoring it, she walked into the garden and looked about. “Harvey,” she repeated, but there was no answer, “I wouldn't said the man. had at lunch thing.” “No-—I dare say.” But there was little conversation in her voice. “You seem to have been in a stew ever since it happened.” “Do I? I'm sorry.” “Is there any reason to suppose he would be here?” “He was fond of the place.” The man gave a short laugh. “Not much left to be fond of now,” said! worry about him,” “That little brush we didn't amount to any- Conway wondered if the voice: sounded as out of tune to her as it’ did to him. Her words, however, pointed the belief that she had not | been listening—or sought to change | the subject. Moving co the lily pond she looked down at the trash and rubbish that now filled it and said inconsequentially, “Captain used to live in this pond.” “Captain?” “A very old white.” goldfish almost i travel. The second line | motoring public that the and give me yesterday.” | “Must you be so dramatic?” he | pleaded. i Then Conway Farnol walked to-' ward them through the gloom that had fallen upon the n. In Leaders Grove, Chelsea, sand- | wiched between two tall blocks of W. flats, stands a low white house. In! such modern surroundings it looks | old and out of place. But the ten- ants of the flats would be loth to. see it go, for their back windows | look down upon its garden, an Old World garden like a bit of country- | side lodged in the very heart of a city. It is rumored that the mul- berry tree by the back wall was | planted by Queen Elizabeth, but that is a rumor that goes with every mulberry tree in London gar- dens. | In the center there is a lily pond and on sunny days the gleam of | goldfish can be seen in the water. In the month of June the garden is » riot of color with its pink may, laburnum, acacia and guelder-rose. The owners of the house are pop- | ular with the tenants of the flats, although it is unlikely they have, exchanged a word with more than! one in a hundred. Their popularity | springs from much the same cause that endears a screen star to the public. They provide something pleasant and romantic to look upon. A story was current that they had | separated for a number of years | and bought the home back a week | before it was destined to be pulled down, but no one whose windows overlooked the garden would be willing to give credence to a story like that. Recently a perambulator has ap- peared on the patch of grass before the house—-a perambulator with a net over it. ——— pp —————————— HOPES TO PREVENT ‘GLARE THAT KILLS’ Department The of Revenue, through its Bureau oi Motor Vehi- © les and its State Highway Patrol, | is using every means possible to counteract the “glare that kills” on Pennsylvania highways. The “glare that kills” is not a mysterious death- dealing ray but the blin that comes from the automobile! headlights of inconsiderate operators. The agencies referred to above are | the Commonwealth's first line of defense against this menace of night | of defense, and it might well be called the strongest, is the realization by the problem | those must —— | the 'ouse is empty.” | impish desire to climb it ation which seemed to give him fool ever to let you return to this| LEGAL ADVERTISEMENTS 7%-7-6t XECUTOR'S NOTICE.—Letters testa- mentary u the estate of L. Fetzer, eceased, having been gran A persons them- ~lves indebted to said estate are re- make prompt payment, and uested to present them, duly authenticated, or settlement. ROSS C. FETZER, Executor, Harrison Walker, Howard R. D. 3. Attorney 77-6-6t HERIFF'S SALE.—By virtue of S a writ of Alias Levari Faclas issued out of the Court of Com- mon Pleas of Centre County, to me directed, will be exposed to public sale at the Court House in the Burough of Bellefonte on FRIDAY MARCH 25, 1932 The following property: All that certain messuage, tenement and lot of ground, situate and being in the Borough of Bellefonte, Centre Coun- ty, State of Pennsylvania, bounded and described as follows, to wit: — On the East by lot of W. J. Musser: on the North by Lamb Street: on the West by lot of Al Landis; on the South by an Alley. The lot having a frontage of about 47 feet between the corner posis, and extending back from Lamb Street to an Alley, 150 feet, to a uniform width. Being the same premises which James C. rurst, Executor of the last will ana Testament of John P. Harris Sr., de- ceased by his deed dated the Sth day of April, 1825, and recorded in Centre County in Deed Book 134, at page 22, granted and conveyed the same Harry Ward and Rosa Ward, his x Seized, taken in execution and to be sold as property of Harry Ward and Rosa Ward. Sale to commence at 10:00 o'clock A. M. of said day. Terms Cash. JOHN M. BOOB, Sheriff, Sheriff's Office. Bellefonte, Pa., March 1, 1832, 77-10-3t HERIFF'S SALE.—By virtue of a S writ of Alias Fiere Facias issued out of the Court of Common Pleas of Centre County, to me directed, will be exposed 40 public sale at the Court House in Borough of Bellefonte on FRIDAY, MARCH 18, 1932. The Following Property: ALL those certain messuages, tene- ments, and lots of ground situate in Pat- ton Township, Centre County, Pe Iva- i Dolsua and described as ows, THE FIRST THEREOF; BEGINNING at a corner of the lot of Thomas Miller; thence along the land of John Jones South thirty and one half (30%) deg. East 107 perches to corner; thence along the land of Moses Thompson Estate North 51 degrees East 55 to corner on line of Wasson hea he to corner of said along W, est 51.7 perches k; thence along said Clark South 51 West 26 perches to corner: thence along said Clark North 313% de- grees West 26.7 perches to corner; South 51 degrees West 8 along same ‘ to corner; } along BIE Ea said Miller South 74 degrees r Con is theirs also. Much could be accom. Perches to corner: thence South 50% Her os Ma oe Captain. | plished in abolishing ,the danger a on RE areas 3% a pipe % like a miracle. It was all he could |SiUSed by glaring lumps if the in- porches be the same more or less, do to prevent "himself. from | dividual car owner would do ; his part of a larger tract. of‘ land d known as crying aloud, “I remember Captain!” : night drivers. Most drivers are con- | he above d And because of one poor fish, re- »mbering thousands | Jights. Nine out of ten have never tate of ry he ge tnt ands | seen their own lights from in front. and other minerals with would be fertile ground to explore! ‘for some Kindly thoughts out of a found one of the buried past. In the light she, seemed to have changed scarcely at Bl} frum the Sit] Je My Nioodd that garden, ages ago. Elsa's gts about Captain found little favor with her com- panion. Conway noticed the irritable way he dug at the soil with the fer- rule of his cane. “Let's get out of here,” he sug- gested. “You've been morbid all day and this place is like a graveyard.” “It is a graveyard, Len.” ¢ let's get out of it.” But Elsa only shook her head and, m to a broken scat beside the eckage of the nhouse, she sat and her in the palms of | her hands. It was some time before she spoke and that was to “Sorry to be a bore, Len, but-Jet me stay a bit. I'll find my own way home.” : “You won't. You'll come with me and you'll come now. What's the point in trying to make yourself | miserable this way?” “I'm not. My memories are happy memories, if only you'd let me have | them flletly,” i “A few of them must be pretty =) should have tho " i “No. I 't think 80.” She seem- | ed to lose consciousuess hh tedt With an angry gesture anted | himself on the seat beside her. ul you must think, why mot think of the future—our future? She shook her Head. “Perhaps I'm | not in the mood not very. Sustain of future. rhaps I'm scared starting something new.” | “ what's better than starting | some new 2° ” 4 : en that’s im vi Elsa.” i Conway Farnol, hidden in the shad- | 7h dear, when it's | “So much that's true squeezes one’s soul until it hurts.” : He leaned toward her and took “Why, then, I shall have the chance to learn whether I can fail to hold another man.” “Is that fair, Elsat Am I likely to believe as he did?” “Who knows? Even now you are- n't pleased with me. You are angry with Harvey—you wish I wouldn't stay in this garden—you don't like | They my mood. A year—two years of those feelings and then—where are you?” He drooped her hand and drum- med a fist onto his knee. “I was a ti ? scious only of the other fellow's State Highway patrolmen have | most effective and | instructive demonstrations on cor- ‘rect lighting equipment is to have land a driver walk out about 25 feet! ahead of his car and face his own | lights. In most cases this test gives a practical and thoroughly ing | illustration of what a terrible “shot | in the eye” he is giving drivers ap- proaching him. : Every motorist is aware of the | hazard of the “one-eyed car.” Few drivers of ‘one-eyed cars,” however, realize that are an accident hazard to themselves as well as to others. In addition to the fact that only one light leaves other motor- the Centre r A escribed tract of land is con- 155 Boonen of alpen or om; Q rights of im s as appears in the veyed and regress etc. of title. certain si! County, scribed of taining about 12 acres or less. THE THIRD THEREQF: bP certain messuage, of land situate in on Centre ania, and de- Coun a en PEE it i along the line of eee 1 pin Gauss U2 degrees Hast perch to stones: thence South 48 degrees t 8 perches North 32 degrees West ists in doubt as to the type of vehi- | to stones; thence cle they are the car! M4. perches to stones; thence Sthtidn with ome light has not emough il-|Jf Susan Miller mes: vie, Hace pat ation, even. if¢ the. other I'S ce bone: (vey *en 12 Hghts 210 Wot | 5. ‘ The | perches more or less. ence e ume 1 ven E FOURTH THEREOF: ALL in the two cars will blind the driver | certain messuage, pi or patel of land with the one bulb. | Suto in Paitin A Clisé Suu There is no denying the need for | o% follows: BEGIN at cor- close attention on the of motor ner of George a ung vehicle owners to Br, Nphtiiig | Jule of aatq Stévensun Nog a ulpment, Walter W. Matthews, Soh Bast, 26 rods thence along sain of the Division, de- along same 85% ‘es West 40 : clared. In January 35 accidents were | thence along Gray degrees 17% reported to have been caused by | feds; fence 80% : at 92 : poorly focused headlights. Two per- oar “SU 0 Estate South sons were killed and ‘32 injured. 54 degrees est $0 sul 10 the. Dlsce of These accidents ted in $5150 beginning. Containin the property damage to 38 venicles. | same more cr lem, Sublet mesercoies Automobiles operated with both in the chain of title paticularty headlights out contributed directly reservation of the Moses to 24 accidents. One person was killed and 18 injured. r acci- dents were causéd by “one-eyed” cars. They resulted in injury to four prsons. There were 24 acci- dents resulting and 20 persons in- jured because of failure to have tail lights burning. JOURNALISM COURSE The development of the radio has | 29 led to the creation of a new course in the journalism ecnrriculum of Northwestern University — radio writing. Arthur A. Daley, advertis- ing and radio continuity writer, will conduct the course. Other new subjects are: the psy- chology of personal and social ad- justment, trust company operation and management; de ent store administration; pl and A duction ol; editorial | wi ing and policy; typography and fore —Colony or tidividud] houses are easy and inexpensive build. prc d warmer and more sanitary than most central farrowing houses. such houses are mot available, be built during the winter they will be ready for farrowing grees same North 86% perches 10. post: thence a oses Thom m_ heirs South 29 5 » nine 1 ares afid lowances. This property Is conveyed subject to the oS of they may a n oy part fou ly a fron and mining 0 oses Highs cen Aly however to the party of the second part hereto all rights for the receiving of royalty etc. as may be vested in him at this time. aa - Seized, taken in e lon to sold as the property of A. Barr and W. D. Barr. Sale to commence at 1:80 o'clock P. M. of said . Terms cash JOHN M. BOOB, Sheriff. Sheriff's Ofi~a. RBaellefonte, Pa., Feb. 24, 1832, 778-3
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers