(jc ctrA UrpuMirca ra Tum.rnniD rrmr wmiwiAi, n J. E. WENK. Office in 8rbnnu k Oo.'i Bnlldinf, ELM GT5LEET, - TIONE3TA, PA. TKUMS, Bl.BoT'Kn YA.l. , . No subscriptions reoeiT4 tor a abartar ptrfo4 than thips mouths. (Wreajvitidnnr soliMUd from all partaof tYia roniiirv. Nmioik'twi 1 l eUk u of mi nTmom '.Miniiiiiiiii'ationn. iiATt3 of ADvmvnciiia. Ons qn,r, on Inrli, on inswf on.... H H On ftqimrM, rm innJi, on month., t U Ono Square, cue inoh, thro mooth t M Ono f('mr', c iin:h, una ys., ....... J M Two HijuarMi, on ysr M yuarvir CoIvmqii, on yaw MM Half Oolnmn, on yaa...........,. M H One Column, on yM....MM ltO M Igal notlcM at wrtabllahsd rata. iUrrlnif and death notions gratia. AH bill for yearly adrtrtisemanHt o11m4 ynrt'ily. Temporary adYerfclaaaaant nut b .i'l for in advance. Job woik, owih en deliver. Vol. XV. No. 9. TIONESTA, PA. WEDNESDAY, MAY 24, 1882, $1.50 Per Annum. . "Strike Whllo'Uio'Iron'g Ilut. Strike while tho Iron's hot J Strike and with a will; He in no skillful smith Who lots the Iron chill. Ere the iron hardens, striko, Shape It to what shape yon like, To the eeytho, or knifo, or sword, ' To slay, or heal, or mow the swarj. Striko while the iron's hot, ' Striko with hand and hoart; Quickly turn the bar, J And smile on every part. Bring the slodge down witlfa swing Till it makes the anvil ring. So great mastor workmen wronght, So struck the iron white 'twas hot. So, when Uio time i ripe To act, or think, or say, The precious moment seize Before it pass away. Shape the acion to your ends, As the sravHi the Iron bond; Let tho sford and let the thought Frompfly into dood be wrought. Strike while the iron's hot, Or do not strike at all; Strokes the cold bar will break, Mot fashion, whon they fall. If you're slow in arm and brain, All your labor will be in vain. The quick of hoad and quick of hand May rise from serving io command. Sunday Magazine, An Unexpected Disclosure. She had been christened, it appeared, Margaretta Caroline Livingstone; but all this magnificence of nomenclature had contracted itself into the least pos sible of diminutives "Et." This Et was a girl who came to board at Mrs. Gordon's whrn Vincent and Laura and I hud been there about a week. ' She arrived one rainy Monday, with half a iIlZpu trunks, an invalid annt and a hnee black Newfoundland dog, whose acquaintance I made almost ira mediately, niter my usual fashion with all and sundry of his lovable race and species. It wac, in fact, through his frieudlj mediution that' I became bo soon on friendly terms kith his little mistress. When she saw him so ready to lay hie Eaws on my lip and nestle his great ead against my shoulder, she seemed to think that no other introduction Was necessary. I Love me love my dog." It would, I think, have been almost impossible not to comply with the" terms of this injunction as applied to Et and Hugo. There was something pitifully sug gestive of the need of human love and companionship in the dinging fondness of the girl for her dumb friend, who, in turn., repaid her with a loyal worship that would fbume the depth and breadth of most human devotion. In one attribute, however, his love partook larpely of human weakness he was rather jealous of his pretty mistress. But this fact I did not dis cover until there arrived npon the Bcer-e a handsome, indolent young man Et's cousin, three times removed who cams lounging up tbe'gravel Walk one sunny morning, and bowed him self lazily into our midst. Miss Livingstone Aunt Nettie., as they both called her received him with a curious darkening of herjbrows, but with quite a pleasak. audible greet ing, and Et's blush was lovely to look at m his hand closed over hers. Hugo, I noticed, retreated instantly to the further end of the veranda, and seemed trying to politely repress invol untary growls. This is my cousin', Roger Braide," Et hastened to. present hiin. " Miss Pyne, Miss Nora Pjne,, Mr. Vincent uaie." He bowed our several, acknowledg ments, and Vincent instantly elaborated a remark on the weather, with which Mr. Braide brilliantly agreed by saying Yes," and sinking in a fatigued man ner on the nearett chur. . He appeared so bored to begin with, that I qnite wondered he land taken tho trouble to come to Meadow Farms at all. That afternoon, when. Mr. Braide had taken the aunt out riding tq Sheltervillo, Et found occasion to give me a little overflow of confidence. Her heart seemed very full, not alto gether of pleasurable emotion, although I could see quite a .happy light deep down in her innocent hazel eyes. She had dressed herself in a lovely pink-and-white organdie, with knots of chocolate ribbon, and looked as pretty and picturesque as a girl could wish to look who evidently had given some thouRht to the subject. " Your cousin ban coma to stay some time, I suppose?'' I remarked, by way of opening the ball. We were walking up and down the pretty, quiet country road, over which, the shadows cf the elms and maples were Ijing m gieat cool patches, Hugo blinking at us sleepily from the gate way as we paced to and fro. " I think he will stay a whilo. It is his vacation now. Of course, I had written him a good deal about tho place, and how mach we were pleased with it, but I did not suppose he would come so soon and so unexpectedly. And Aunt Nettie doeB not like it a bit." "But you don't share her feelings in that regard," I said, smiling. "How do you know?" bhe asked, q lickly, with a simplicity that was re freshing, her face blushing like i wild rose. "Do I thow my Do I seem to be interested in Roger ? We have been together all our lives. He is like a brother ttf mo. And, and Don't hugh, Nora." We bad known each other not quite three weeks at this time, but, with the freemasonry of gir), had pretty well dif carded the finer shades of etiquette for a frank comrcdoship. "I ask because I want to know Ar.nt Nettie would not have him here an hour if she thought if she sup pof ed " ". was only joking, Et 1" for her fluttered, anxious manner made me quite repent my innocent remark. "I movely thought it not very likely any f irl could be indifferent to the boon of Mr. Braicle's society." - "Oh, but I'm not 1" she assured mo, very much relieved, and very much in earnest. " OI course I'm not indiffer ent. Far from it ! There was quite an affair between Rogr-r and me, and he well, he wanted to marry me, Nora. Oh, yes, he was quite wild abodt mo at one time, and Aunt Nettie was raging. She wants to leave me her money, but she thinks Roger is careless and a spendthrift. He isn't at all, but his father was, nd so she wants me to promise I will never marry Roger. How can I do that, Nora ? I can't it's impossible. Bat here, you see, Aunt Nettie never stops about it. She will leave mo everything if I will only give her my promise; and if not, she will make her will in favor of strangers. I am her nearest relative, you know." "If she should die suddenly, every thing would come tto you, of course, legally?" "Of course; but she will live a long time yet. She has been like this no worse, no better since I was ten years old. Ah, Nora, it has not been all play for me I tell you 1 I've had many and many a sad hour. We ju6t board here and there without any settled home, and I've never had society nor amuse ment like other girls. You see for yourself how it is, but my life has been very pleasant since I've been hero" with a grateful sqaeeze of my arm. "I have had yon, and we'll always be friends, won't we, Nora ? And you must watch and tell mo if you think there is anything noticeable between us Roger und me, I mean." "Oh, then the 'aflair' is not ended, it would seen:. He still wishes to marry you?" "N no not so much of late. At least, he never asks me, but I am sure he loves me just the same." " If ow can you be sure, Et ?" Oh, in a thousand ways. He comes whenever ho can, and he writes to me, and and oh, I'm sure, Nora, and I know I can never marry any one else, that's certain." , Of this clause I, too, felt tolerably convinced, as I looked at her flushed, earnest face. On the rest of her prem ises I did not base much faith; and, indeed, Mr. Roger Braide's demeanor was anything but that of an 'anxious, eager lover. For some weeks following I had ample Opportunity of observing tho extent and character of hid dovotion to my whole-hearted little friend. His listless, half-indifferent air of owner ship, his lazy familiarity, the calm assurance and boundless ease with which he occasionally kissed her cheek, or pressed her hand, making nothing of my presence, roused my deep indigna tion. Thnt he was fond of her, he allowed to appear before all eyes, except those of his watchful aunt, iu whose presence poor Et was doomed to continuous neg lect. And that he was calmly and im pertinently sure of her, he allowed also to be very plainly inferred. Poor Et, her jovng life that period of time at least was a perfect tumult of buss and misery. Her aunt made no objection to Roger's remaining, and in deed, martyrized the young fellow pretty thoroughly in the matter of rides and walks, and almost constant personal attendance npon himself. , Not that I was sorry for him, by any means, indeed, l lelt secretly rejoiced to see him bearing Miss Livingstone's shawls and pillows, and looking as if he would like to lie down on them him self. Et felt for him the greatest com miseration. She seemed to think noth ing was so charming in a man as lazi ness, except the peculiar languid im pertinence in which Mr. Braide trium phantly excelled. We talked a great deal about these three people Laura and Vinoent and I ; rather, I talked a good deal, and Laura and Vincent listened. They were to be married themselves in, October, and could not be expected to have very vivid interest in tho love affairs of other people ; but as tar as a betrothed couplo can pay attention to anything but each other, they allowed themselves to partake of my deep thought and anxiety for Et and her future. She was such a loving, tender, soft, confiding, dutiful and sensitive little soul, and hor confidence had placed itself so completely in the keeping of her handsome, easy-going, careless cousin, who seemed as if he would be perfectly content to smoke cigarettes and look at her with lazy rapture for the remainder of his natural life. "Miss Nora," Miss Livingstone naid to me abruptly, one morning, when we were sitting tete-a-tete on the shady veranda, while the othors were dawdling over the croqnet balls on the lawn, " I think you have an honest face " with her steel gray oyes reading mine. ' I believe you would not tsll me an un truth. I want you to answer me frankly. Do yon think Roger here is iu love with his cousin that he is trying to winter love? In n word, do you think lie wishes or intends to marry her ? Honor bright, nowl I want your can did opinion." My face may hare reddened a little, but I returned her steady gaze. "Miss Livingstone, since you ask me, of course I must answer sincerely. No I should not say at all that Mr. Braide is in love with Et, and I am sure he can have no serious thoughts' about marriage. A man does not treat a woman he is trying to win as Mr. Braide treats his cousin. He likes her, cer tainly, but bat I have no patience with him t I should think he would adore her." Miss Livingstone's face was fairly radiant as I concluded my speech with emphasis. 'Well, well," she said, nodding cheerfully, "you've bad opportunities of observing, and yoti ought to know. I hope sincerely it is as you say. I would be a happy woman if I thought there was nothing between those two but cousinly love. Well, time will prove all, Miss Nora time will prove all." Time did, indeed, prove all, and sooner than we could have dreamed. That "night, close on midnight, there was a commotion in the apartments occupied by the Liv ingstones a sudden moving to and fro and quick footsteps, then Et's hurried, sobbing voice calling loudly, " Nora I Nora I Oh, girls, come quick 1" Luckily, we wore undressed and could reHpond to her summons. We found Miss Livingstone lying on her bed, white and rigid and breathing heavily. Mrs. Gordon and Et were bending over her, and Roger Braide was stand ing at the foot of the bed, without a coat on, and looking very handsome minus collar and cravat. Perhaps his unusual attractiveness was not duo so much to undress as to a certain very grave anxiety and pallor on his ordinarily listless countenanoe. . Et looked up quickly with tears on her face, caught my hand, and held me close at her side. "I think she is dying," she whispere d tremblingly. "A moment ago she fell, and Roger lifted her, and she has not spoken. She does not seem to be con scious of anything. Oh, I think we ought to send for a doctor. Sho would not have one near her if she knew, but now it seems Oh, Mrs. Gordon, don't you think we ought to have one now ?'' "If you will tell me where to go," began Roger, quiokly. But before he could say more, Miss Livingstone's lips parted, and . she spoke : "No doctor, Et," very slowly yet dis tinctly came 4he words. "He could only tell me what I know the end has come. But" suddenly her eyes were opened on us, bright and keen "I want a lawyer. Will Roger be as ready to find one for me ?" We dl drew bu a little as Roger came jrward to the bed. " jltxx ready to do anything for you, Aunt Nettie," he said, tenderly, and yet with a curious flush, like that of pride on his face. "It will not be far to seek. Mr. Gale is a lawyer. He can do for you whatever is needful." " Ah, yes, I forgot," sho murmured. "Then ask him to come, and leave me with him, all of you." So Vincent was aroused from his first sleep, und remained nearly an hour alone with the dying woman. When we were summoned from the outer room, where we had been waiting in sad expectancy, we saw on the little table beside the bed pens and ink and writing-paper, and iu his hand Vincent held a sheet of fooolscap, closely cov ered with his own fine, clear chirog rapby. His face looked troubled and perplexed, but he addressed ns in his usual matter-of-fact tones: "I have been requested by Miss Liv ingstone to draw out a second will, en tirely contradictory to her first will, already made and witnessed, and which I will also read to you, if necessary, al though I think the persons most inter ested, Mr. Braide and Miss Margaretta Livingstono, are already acquainted with the provisions of that document" Roger bowed and Et sobbed against my shoulder. "This second paper, I may briefly say, bequeaths to the State all of Miss Mehitable Livingstone's property, without reservation or excep tion, under conditions which you will understand when I read the will, as I now propose to do. I will then require the signature of all persons present as witnesses thereof." Vincent's legal calmness amazed me so that I could scarcely breathe, and I becrau to feel that I aotually hated hi:a. Hore was the dying woman, with her f aarer, terrible face, my poor Et trem bling and sobbing, and all. the rest of us more or less dissolved in tears; and here was Roger standing up so proud and sorrowful-looking, and that imperturbable Vincent.so cool und glib, in the midst of it all ! Before he could begin to read the will, however, Miss Livingstone spoke out again, clearly and firmly. - " You understand, Ef., that it requires only word from you. Promiso me that you will never marry Roger promise now. The will is made that (jives you all all 1 Oh, child, say yes. For your own good, Et -for your own safety?" Roger Braide made a sudden, quick movement, a if ha would start forward and speak; but Et curbed him with a touch of her little lingers on his wrist. Then she went close to the bed and took her aunt's hand in both her own. "Dear, dear Aunt Nettie," she said, brokenly, "you have been good to me, but but I can't obey you; I can't promise not to marry, for Roger for we are married already. We have been married since early spring." A swift, awful change went over the pale face on the pillows ; the keen gray eyes were closed. "Forgive me forgive me!" poor Et sobbed, passionately. "Don't leave me any money. I don't want anthing, only forgive me 1 Oh, Aunt Nettie, you must. You can't leave me this way. I am so sorry so sorry 1" There was no answer ; but two great tears rolled slowly from between the shut eyelids and down the wrinkled cheeks. The hand that Et held so lov ingly lay passive in her clasp. After a while, with a great effort, Aunt Nettie murmured : "The will! Give me the second will!" . When it was placed in her fingers she tore it quietly in two. "Mr. Gale must have a hundred dol lars for hiV trouble, Et," was all she said. Then, with a little motion of her hand she summoned Roger, and joined his hand with Et's. I shall never forget her expression as she looked up, dumbly, into his young, handsome faco. " Yes, yes, Aunt Nettie," he an swered, quickly, fervently, as if to spoken words. " God is my witness, I will be good to her. I will shield her from every care from every trouble'' and for the first time hd' too broke into tears, with his head on hia young wife's slender shoulder. Et and I are still fast friends, and I am constrained to admit that I have grown to like Roger very much irdeed. Certainly I see no cause to complain of uny lack of devotion to his little wife, I think I never saw so happy a couple. " You see, dear," Et says, in her old, earnest way, her eyes following her husband as he goes sauntering lazily about the grounds, of their pretty French villa, with Hugo at his heels " you see, dear, you did not understand Roger, and I could not explain; but it used to hurt me terribly to see that you misjudged him. Of course, being mar ried makes such a difference. We were perfectly sure nothing could sep arate ns, and besides we had lived through a good many raptures before you knew' us. We were beginning to feel quite like old married people then, when you were accusing Roger of being a lukewarm lover. I am glad you have changed your opinion. I think you really do appreciate him now. Dear old Hugo, too 1 Do yon remember how cross he used to be about Roger, and his awful growling if the dear old fellow only took my hand a minute. Look there, he follows him about all day like that. I believe he loves Roger now almost as much as I doP Paved WIthExtlnct Stars. In a recent scientific paper, Sir John Lubbeck says : Like the Band of the sea, the stars of heaven have ever been used as effective symbols of number, and the improvements in our methods of observation have added fresh force to our original observations. We now know that our earth is but a fraction of one out of at least 75,000,OC 0 worlds. But this is not all. In addition to the luminous heavenly bodies, we canaot doubt that there are countless others, invisible to us from their great dis tance, smaller size or feebler light : in deed. we know that there are manv dark bodies which now emit no light, or comparatively little. Thus in the case of Procyon, the existence of an invisi bie body is proved by the movement of the visible star. Again, I may refer to the curious phenomena presented by Aleol, a bright star in the head of Ale dusa. This star shines without change for two days and thirteen hours; then, in three hours and a half, dwindles from a star of 'the sec ond to one of the fcurth magni tude; and then, in another three and a half hours, reassumes us original bril liancy. These changes setm certainly to indicate the presence of an opaque body which intercepts at regu lar intervals part of the light emitted bv Algol. Thus the floor of heaven is not only "thick inlaid with patines of bright gold, but studded also with ex tinct stars once probably as brilliant as our own sun, but now dead cold, as Helmbolz tells ns that our sun itself will be some seventeen million jears hence. Charlotte Cashmun's Spirit. The following anecdote illustrates Miss Gushmans decision and nerve, At the the National theater, Boston, during the season of 1851-52, as she was playing Itomeo to the Juliet of Miss Anderton, in the midst of one of the most romantio passages between the lovers, snme person in the house sneezed in such a manner as to attract the attention of the whole audience, and every one knew that the sneeze was artificial and derisive. Miss Oushman instantly stopped the dia logue, and led Miss Anderton off the stage, as a cavalier might lead a lady from a place where an insult had been offered her. She then returned to the footlights and said in a clear, firm voice: "Some man must put that per son out or I shall be obliged to do it myself." The fellow was taken away; the audience rose en masse and gave three cheers for Miss Cushman, who recalled her companion and proceeded with the play as if nothing bad hap pened: English scientists t&j studying the gull stream. Cnrlous SfirtlcM. A bridge at Denver, Colorado, boasts I of a notice which might almost claim the dignity of being ranked as a mathe tnaticalproposition. It is to the effect that " No vehicle drawn by more than one animal is allowed to cross this bridge in opposite directions at the same time." An equally slipshod specimen of the Queen's English may still be found exhibited as a "public notice" by the Southeastern Railway company at the Cannon street terminus ; " Tickets once nipped and defaced at the barriers, and the passengers ad mitted to the platform will be delivered to the company in the event of the holders subsequently retiring from the platform, without traveling, and cannot bo reccgni2ed for re-admission." Seventy years ago the Universal Mag azine recorded the fact that the notice "reding and wrighting taut hear," ap peared over the door of a school in the neighborhood of Hoxton; and a few years since the Leeds Express contained evidence that the schoolmaster was still abroad. According to that newspaper two curious documents were to be seen in two different windows in the neigh borhood of Hunslet. The first, in a wretched scribble, is as follows: ''A Da Skool kept hat plaise, terms 2 and d pens per week for reeding and knitting and righting and sewing." The other, in the window of a shoemaker, is simi lar to one we have seen in a shop-window in Drury Lane : A man lives here which don't refuse To mend old boots, likewise old shoes; My leather is good, my price is just, But times are bad I cannot truBt. The native landlord of the hotel at Lahore, in which the following notice to the guests is posted up, is apparently determined to charge for every possible item of expenditure, and to allow no luss about the payment oi what he anticipates his customers will look upon as overcharges " Gentlemen who come in hotel not say anything about their meals they will be charged for : and if they should say beforehand that thev are going out to breakfast or dinner, etc., and if they say that they not have anything to eat, they will be charged, and if not so they will be charged, or unless they bring it to the notice of the manager; and Bhould they want to say anything they must order the manager for and not any one else ; and unless they not bring it to the notice of the manager, they will be charged for the least things accordibg to the hotel rate, and no fuss will be allowed afterwards about it Should any gentleman take wall-lamps or candle-light from the public rooms, they must pay for it without any dis pute its charges. Monthly gentlemans will have to pay my fixed rate made with them at the time, and should they absent day ia the month, they will not be allowed to deduct anything out of it, because I take from them less rate than my usual rate of monthly charges." Cleaning Horses by Steam A machine which cleans horses by steam is in use in horse railroad stables in New York city. A description of the machine says : Its standard rate is one hundred horses in ten hours, but yesterday it cleaned 122 between 7:30 a. m. and 5:40 p. m., with an hour's intermission for dinner. To test it, extra speed was put on, and one horse was actually cleaned in one minute and fifteen seconds, and more thoroughly than by the ordinary process. The horse is led under a bar, from which depend on each side of him arms with universal joints. Turning on the arms are brushes a foot in cir cumference. These are revolved by steam through the arms, and cross-bar at an ordinary rate of 800 revolutions a minute, which can be increased to 1,000. A man on each side takes hold of the arm close to the brugh and applies the brush to the horse. The steam that whirls the brush makes a noise a good deal like the hissing of a hostler. The universal joints allow the arms and brushes to be moved in any direction. Beginning at the head, the men move the brush along the sides, back and belly, and down the legs of the horse to the feet. A cloud of dust arises in the air, and in two minutes the horse looks like a different creature. The horses were a little nervous at first, but after a few seconds all appeared to be pleased with the operation. A Desperado's Death. The death of Jesse James recalls the deatn of another equally desperate ban dit, "Sam" Bass, who made the plains of Western Texas the scene of his ex ploits. ThU noted robber for whose capture, " dead or alive," a large sum had been offered, was finally entrapped with a comrade in the town of Round Rock, in the summer of 1875, and after a short but bloody struggle, in which the sheriff of Williamson county and two of his deputies, as well as the com panion of the outlaw, wore left in the streets dead and dying, Bass himself fell from his horse in the outskirts of the town, mortally wounded by a ball from a Winchester rifle. He was buried with much " pomp and circumstance" ia the cemetery at Round Rock; songs were composed and sung in his honor, and his grave is even now often strewn with flowers by sympathizing persons. His gang was broken up, many of his partners in crime going up into Mis souri and joining Jesse James. Two of them, " Fiank " Carter and John Under Wuod, have figured conspicuously in several recent train robberies. The prices of horse? are uaidj to te fifty per cent, higher than they weie six years ago. The Builders. HKNBT W. LONOraLXQW. All are architects of Fate, Working in these walls of Timo; Some with massive deeds and great, Borne with ernaments of rhyme. Nothing useless is, or low; Each thing in its place is best And what seems bat idle show Strengthens and supports tbxet. For the structure that we raiss Time is with materials filled; Our to -days and yesterdays Are the blocks with which wa bnlld. Trnly shape and fashion these; Leave no yawning gaps between ; Think not, because no man Bees, Such things will remain unseen. In the elder days of Art, Builders wrought with greatest car Each minute and nnseen part; For the gods soo everywhere. Let ns do onr work as well, Both the unseen and the seen; Make the house, whore gods may dwell, Beautiful, entire and clean. Else our lives are incomplete, Standing in these walls of Tims, Broken stairways, whore the feet Stumble as they seek to climb. Build to-day, then, stronfj and sure, With a firm and ample bano; And ascending and secure Shall to-morrow find its place. Thus alone can we attain To thoso turrets, where the eye Sees the world as one vast plain, And one boundless reach of sky. HUMOR OF THE DAY. Kick your corn through a window glass, and the pane is gone forever. It is worth remembering that when a man despairs of getting good weight at his grocer's he can generally get all the wait he wants by dropping in at his barber's. "My boy," said a conscientious teacher, "do you know the reason why I'm going to whip you ?" "Yes," re plied the hopeful, "because you're bigger than I am." It is quite common for a boy to mis behave when people are looking at him, for the mere fun of shocking them. But a man is not a boy. He knows better, and acts badly only when people are not looking. We notice an article extensively copied, describing certain lecturers who are afraid of their audiences. But no genuine sympathy appears to be shqwn toward the many weary, tor tured audiences who are afraid of their lecturers. Miss Lemon was a maiden sour As any acid know But tartar she had marriod Crab More crabbed she did grow ; And when her siatercame to call, f Huch shrieks she did begin, Hor Husband said the Lemon's peal Did fright the Lemon's kin. Rome Sentinel, The Hay Trade. Dealers and brokers in hay doing business in this city, says the New York Times, are deploring the lacs of organization in the trade which has resulted in preventing the development that would otherwise have oocurred in this branch of business. It is insisted that the importance of the trade has never been properly understood, or, at least, taken into account, and that loss has resulted in consequence. There are about six hundred dealers in hay at this port, and the value of the com modity handled here annually is esti mated at from $20,000,000 to $25,000, 000. Not only is New York the great est hay-growing State in tho Union, but this city is the cen ter of supply of the commodity for the sea-board Southern States and for the West Indies, Mexico and Central and South America. The American Grocer, in a recent article calling attention to the ccndiMoa of the trade in hay here, gives some in teresting figurss. It appears from them that the bay crop stands third in im portance. In 1880 the year for which the statistics are given the value of the Indian corn produced was 079, 714,499; thit of wheat, $474,201,850, and that of bay $371,811,084. Cotton was next on the list, with a value if $280,206,242, then oats, valued at $150, 243,565; then potatoes, $81,062,214, and then tobacco, $34,414,615. As to the paying quality of the crop, it appears that the hay yielded a return of $14.38 per acre, or $3.83 per acre in excess of the corn. The live States of New York, Iowa, Pennsylvania, Illinois and Ohio furnished 15.432,410 tons, or nearly one half the entire supply, which aggre gated 31,925,233 tons. One of the great complaints iu tho trade is the use of hickory or other heavy wood in baling. It is eaid to be aa every-day occurrence fur baled hay to come to market with the wood weighing from fifteen tc twenty five per cent, of the whole. Amonpf other drawbacks to tho development of the tuado here are said to be the lack of system in gather ing statistical information, the absence of a recognized standard of frrade. such as obtains in Chicago, and the need of a way for ' obtaining conem-ted or au thoritative action to iuduoe gr owers to properly cure and prepare the hay for market." Tho organization of an ex change for tho trade ia ured as a rem edy for tho evils. The flattering tatty-giver should have a sugar-coated tongue.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers