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