VOL. LIV.
PROFESSIOX.IL CJIRDS.
C. T. Alexander. C. iM. Bower.
A LEX4NDKR BOW Eli.
ATTORNEYS AT LAW
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Offlee In Garman's new building.
JOHN B. LIXX,
ATTORNEY AT LA W.
BELLEFONTE, PA.
•\# i \ u* v
omce on Allegheny Street.
QLEMENT DALE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Northwest cornercf Diamond,
D. G. Bui.ll. S. H. Yocum. D. H. Hastings.
jjush, yoccm t Hastings;
ATTORNEYS AT LAW.
BELLKFONTK, PA.
High Street. Opposite First National Bank.
w M. C. HEINLE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Pract ces tn all the courts of Centre county.
Spec al attention to Collections. Consultations
lu German or Engt sh.
w ILBUK F. REEDEIi,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Alt bus nes promptly attendel to. Collection
of claims a speciality.
J. A. Beaver. J. W. Gephart.
JgEAVER A GEPHART.
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Offloe on Alleghany Street, North of High,
w. A. MORRISON,
ATTORNEY AT LAW
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Office on woodring's Block, Opposite Court
Botue.
JQ S. KELLER,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BELLEFONTE, TA.
Consultations In English or German. Office
In Lyon'-. Building. Allegheny Street.
JOHN G. LOVE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Office in the rooms formerly oecup ed by the
late w. p. Wilson.
TyjTLLIIEIM BANKING CO.,
AAI.\ STREET,
MILLHEIM, PA.
A. WALTER, Cashier. DAV. KRAPB, Pres.
HARI'ER,
AUCTIONEER,
t
REBSRSBCEO, PA.
Satisfaction Guaranteed.
Let us iive as men who are sometime
to grow ©id, an 1 o whom it will be the
most dreadful of all evils to count their
past years by former luxuriance of
health only by the maladies which riot
has produced.
Good words do more than hard speech
es: as the sunbeams without any noise
will make the traveler castoff Ilia-cloak,
which all the blustering wind could
not do, but only make hitn ben ' it clos
er to him :
The damps of autumn sink into the
leaves and prepare them for the neces
sity of their fall; and thus insen-ibly
are we, as years close around us, de
tached from our tenacity of life by the
gentle pressure of recorded sorrow.
If you would relish food, labor for It
before you take it; if enjoy clothing,
pay for it before you wear it: if you
would sleep soundly, take a clear con
science to bed with you.
Evil thoughts anfwofse enemies than
lions and tigers, for we can keep out
of their way; but bad thoughts win
their way everywhere; keep your head
and heart full of. good thoughts, that
bad ones tnay find no room to enter.
That policy that can etrikeonly while
the iron is hot will be overcome by that
perseverance which, like Cromwell's
can make the iron hot by striking; and
he that can only rule the storm must
\ ield to him who can both raise and
rule it.
There is gold in the rocks which
friuge the pass of the hpiugen, gold
even in the stones which mends the
roads, but tiiere is too little of it to be
worth extracting. Alas! how like too
m'any books and sermons. Not so the
scriptures. They are much finer gold
—their very dust is precious.
in the decline of life, shame and
grief are of short duration; whether it
be that we bear easily what we have
borne long, or that, finding ourselves
in age less regarded, we less regard
others; or, that we look with slight
regard upon afflictions, to which we
know thai the band of death is about
to put an end.
The life that. is devoted to knowledge
passes silently away, and is very little
diversified by events. To talk in pub
lie, to think in solitude, to read and to
hear, to inquire, and to answer inquir
ies, is the business of a scholar. He
wanders about the world without pomp
or terror, and is neither known nor
yalaed but by men like himself.
LIGHT THROUGH CLOU IS.
Because I hold it sinful to despond.
And will not let the bitumens of life
Blind me with burinus; teais. but look beyond
It* tumult au I its strife.
Because I lift mv head abova the mint,
Where the sun shies and the broad brae zee
blow,
By every ray and every raindrop kisnod,
lliat (Tod's love doth l*etoW;
Think you I find no bitter'ess at al 1 ,
No burden to be l rne like ('lit istian'n pack?
Think you there aie no ready tears to fall,
Because 1 keep theui back.
Why should 1 hu.- 1 fc's ills wi h eo'd reserve
To curse uose f and all who love me? Nay,
A thousand times more S.OOI tkan 1 deserve
God gives mu every day.
And n each one < t these rebellious tears.
Kept bravely back he makes a rainbow shine,
Grateful 1 take his slightest gifts; no fears
Nor any doubts are mine.
Dark skie must clear, and wheu the clouds
are past.
One golden day redeems a we.iry year;
Patitut 1 li-ten. sure that sweet at 1 st
Wnl souud his voice of cheer.
The Heart of Ice.
The winter s day was drawing to a clic,
and the bleak shades of a suowy night were
setting in.
In the silent seclusion of a deep and
lonely glen, far from any other habitation,
and souie length from the public road,
stood a small cottage, known as the Glen
Farmhouse, the property of Ralph Granite,
who resided there with liis wife, s ml bad
done so for thirty years.
He was a cold, hard man—cold and hard
as the name he bore.
Mary Granite, bis wife, was the exact re
verse, with a motherly face and a warm
and tender henrt.
On this bleak night of December, this
night of storm, w iud and suow, Granite
and bis wife were quietly seated in the
large, homely kitchen.
At last Mrs. Granite, dropping her knit
ting iu her lap, broke the silence of the
room.
"I wonder where Alice is to-night,
Ralph ?"
"What do you care where she is, eh?"
roughly exclaimed the farmer, looking up
from his paper with a dark frown.
"A night of storm never comes but I
think of my poor girl! It was on such a
night as this that she left our home, and
to-night 1 have such a strange, feeling ac
my heart."
"Banish her from your thoughts as I have
done—the disobedient girl.''
,4 Oh, Ralph, Ralph, it is unfatherlv to
talk thus! Remember that she is your ;
daughter, my child—the only child God
ever gave us."
And tears came rushing to the poor moth
er's eyes.
"What claim has she on us now? A
very dutiful daughter she proved, didn t
she?" cried the father, bitterly. "When
Alice disobeyed me by marrying that fop,
George Convey, I tore her face and me
mory out of my heart."
"Alice was never a disobedient child—
never, never!" wept the mother. "She
loved a man who loved her truly. Sfte
came to you and told you all; he, too,
came, and asked your conseut, to marry
Alice. What was your answer? You re
fused, insulted him, and thrust hitu from
your house."
"As I'd do again," muttered the farmer,
between his clenched teeth.
"J hey were married in the village
church." weut on Mrs. Granite, "and took
the night train for the city two long years
ago. From that time to this her fate and
whertabouts have been a mystery, and she
has never written to us."
"Yes, she wrote," said Ralph Granite,
his face growing still harder. "She seat
two or three letters after she went awav,
but I destroyed them the moment I received
them."
"And you never told tue." Oh, Ralph.
Ralph, that was cruel!"
"Not more so than her disobedience to
her father's wishes. Come how. drop the
subject."
Once more silence reignAl in the farmer's
cottage.
Ten o'clock came and the storm continu
ed with unabated fury.
The farmer and his wife took up their
candle, and securely fastening the door,
took their way up to their chamber above
the kitchen.
Tliev"had scarcely entered the apartment
when a pitiful cry was wabted to their ears
from without.
Mr. Granite raised the window and put
his head out.
"Whose there?" be asked, trying to
penetrate the darkness.
* A poor woman who has lost her way in
the night and storm," said the sorrowful
voice.
"Where do you want to go ?"
"I warn to reach the village, but I'm not
able to walk any further. Won't you give
me shelter. Pray do—only till morning!"
spoke the wanderer out iu that awful
storm.
"Poor thing!" cried Granite's wife. "I'll
go down and open the door."
"No you won't."
And the farmer stayed his wife; then
said to the woman :
"You follow the road a couple o' mile
and you'll reach the village. We don't take
m wanderers."
lie .-hut down the window, and his wife
fell into a chair weeping.
"Ralph, Ratph!" she cried, through her
tears, "your heart is ice 1 The poor woman
will perish!"
Tlie farmer made no answer, but retired
to bed.
Man without a heart, sleep on, for it is
the last night of peaceful slumber that will
ever visit your pillow. The morrow's
dawn will bring to your house a horror
which will blight, darken, and shadow your
future on earth ; it will rend your icy heart
as it was never rent before !
And the poor woman of the storm,
where was she ? Out on the lonely road,
where snow lay in drifts, and the wind tore
by. On, on, her step faltered, she stopped,
then fell.
Fierce howled the wind, heavier fell the
snow, and on the roadside* started up a
face ; whit© as the snow that surrounded
it, the face of the strange woman, rigid in
death, in her shroud of snow.
Morning dawned, with a blue sky, a
genial sun, and a snow clad country.
Ml LLHEIM. PA., THURSDAY, JANUARY 29, 1880.
Farmer Granite ami liis wife were eating
breakfast.
The fanner's face wore a strange look,
ami his wife was puzzled.
i "Wife," stud lav, after finishing his
breakfast, ami pushing baek his chair, "do
you know what I'm going to do to-day ?"
| "No."
11 "Well, then, I'm going to write to the
I city and ask both Alice* ami tier husband to
come out here."
"Are you really in earnest ?"
"Yes, wife. I've been a stern father
long enough. I'm going to make up with
A ice and her husband."
Mrs. Granite's joy was unbounded. The
heart of ice was melted at last.
"I wonder what become of that poor wo
man who came to our d<x>r last night?"
"Oh, she's in the village now, in all pro
bability."
A pain, heavy and sharp, seemed to
catch his breath.
Why did he start and seize the back of
his chair to keep himself from falling?
Four men were coining up the path—
four neighbors carrying between them u
plank, with something on it.
They entered the tanner's kitchen aud
laid the burden on the floor.
The farmer HI d his wife were pule as
the dead face before them.
"A woman, .Mr. Granite," explained one
Jof the men, "a woman as was found by us
| four this morning, up yonder 011 the road.
She's quite dead, sir. "
"NN liy—why did you bring her here ?"
gasped the farmer.
"Cause I thought as how her face looked
like—like—"
A wild shriek came from Mrs. Gra
nite, who dropped 011 her knees and tore
the covering off ihe face of the dead wo
man.
1 A cry of agony and horror came from
• the farmer, as the dead face, with its open,
! glassy eyes, stared up at him.
"Good Heaven!'' lie cried, covering his
eyes, and staggering backwards.
"It is Alice—our Alice—whom you re
fused to shelter last night! Oh, Ralph, it j
is the vengeance of Heaven !"
A moau, and Mrs. Granite fell to the 1
floor in u swoon.
"Our Alice?" moaned the striken father,
kneeling at his dead daughter's aide, ami
parting 1 lie frozen hair from the white tem
ple- "Our Alice, whose brightness 1 have
so longed for; and I—l killed her ! I was
going to write for you to-day, Alice. It's j
too late now!"
His mind was giviug way under the aw-'
ful siax-k.
A letter was in the postoffice, and ha 1 |
lain there for two weeks past. One day
after Alico had been laid in t lie churchyard,
Mrs. Granite received and read it.
It was dated from the city, and from her
daughter, telling that her husband had j
failed in business and died, and that she
was coining home -couiiug back to the
place where she was born, for her heart
was broken, ami prayed that her father
might forgive her.
The letter was received too late.
It is summer, ami the little churchyard
of the village is a blooming Eden.
A double grave has been made; two cof
fins have bem lowered into the earth, and
the little slab contains three names —Ralph
and Mary Granite, and Alice, their
daughter.
liusband, wife and daughter sleep to
gether now, under the shade of the church
yard willow.
Kiithleeu Sons in the \Vr.
Rev. Daniel S. Helton, a Baptist
preacher of Roane county, Tenn., is 88
years old, and is as active as most men at
60. He recently walked three miles to
give testimony at the county seat and re
turned the same day. lie says: "1 can
sight a rifle gun as well as I could sixty
years ago, and only for a slight tremble of
the hand would not miss one shot in a
hundred" In reply to the question, "'On
which side were your sympathies during
late war 1 " he replied: "1 was always a
Union man. 1 had • sixteen sons in the
Union army and two in the rebel army,
and my sympathies were with the Union
fourteen majority." When asked if lie
knew which of the hoys were right, he said,
"I know which I think was right, cap'n.
There war fifteen majority in that 'ar
family including me. I helped the boys on
the Union side." He has been twice mar
ried, and is the fatluT of twenty-one chil
dren. He served in the war of 1812, but
draws no pension, it is said by the x
--soldiers that he did good service during the
war by aiding Union soldiers to communi
eate with their families when they were in
the rebel lines, and in many other ways.
If he can't get a pension for services in
either the war of 1812 or tliut of the rebel
lion, he certainly ouaht to get a liberal one
for his services between the two. The old
man is in indigent circumstances.
PwintH of Uw.
A note on Sunday is void.
A note by a minor is void.
Ignorance of the law excuses no one.
Notes bear interest only when so stated.
An agreement without consideration is
void.
The law compels no one to do impossi
biliites.
The act of ©Heparin r finds al the others.
A receipt for the money is not legally
conclusive.
Contracts made on Sunday cannot bo cn
f< >reed.
A contract made with a minor is void
except for necessities.
If a note is stolen it docs not release tko
maker! lie must pay it.
A note obtained by fraud, or even from
one intoxicated, cannot bo collected.
Each individual in partnership is respon
sible for the whole amount of the debts of
the firm.
An endorser of a note is exempt from
liability if not served with no;.re of his
dishonor within twenty-four h i.rs of its
non-payment.
The ownership of personal property in
law is not changed until the delivery, and
the purchaser actually takes possession of
such property, though in some Stales a bill
of sale is prima facie evidence of owner
ship if executed, even against creditors, un
less the sale was fraudulently made,for the
purpose of avoiding the payment of debts.
A WIFE wanted her husband to sym
pathize with her in a feminine quarrel;
but he refused, saying, "I've lived
iong enough to know than one woman
is as good as another, if not better."
"Arid I," retorted the wife, "have liv
ed long enough to know that one man
is a bad as another, if not worse!"
California Driver I *.
The California ranchmen have won derfu
aptitude for driving, and one sees some
pretty good examples among the hills. The
road down the mouutain sides is entirely
unguarded upon the outer edge, undthe de
scent In most places is precepitous. A
balky horse or a fractured wheel, or a slight
carelessness in hand ing the reins, might
easily send a carnage load of people to des
truction—and an awful destruction, too.
The path is wide enough for one pair of
wheels, only, but, at intervals, in favorable
places, it broadens so that teams may pass
each other. To drive in such a manner as
not to meet another traveler midway be
tween these places is a special branch of the
art. The huge lumber teams which carry
wood from the mills in the mountains to the
yards in the valleys, being unwieldy and
very heavy, are -especially hard to manage.
Yet the drivers always seem easy and non
chalant. First, there is a large four-wheeled
oaken truck, with a seat in front ten feet
above the ground; behind it is another
truck, somewhat shorter, but still enormous
ly stout. These are fastened together and
loaded with from ten to fifteen tons of fresh
ly sawn lumber—lxiards and joists. This
mass is drawn by six or eight mules or
horses, guided by reins and a prodigiously
long whip. The lirst wagon has a powerful
brake, worked by a long iron lever by the
driver upon his seat. The driver is a man
of nerve and courage. His skill must be
of the highest order. It will not do for him
to take fright even if in imminent (lunger,
und lie must know to a hair's breadth where
lie can go, and where he can not. Towering
up far above the road, overlooking the most
stupendous depths, and guiding with a few i
slender lines a tremendous force, he must
needs to bean adept aud u tireless one. I
Rut a beholder—ignorant of the danger that J
constantly surrounds him—would say that
his work was simple, and that he managed
matters with ease. True, he seems so.
With his broud-britned hat shading his sun
burned face, his sinewy hands holding the
reins with carelessness, his legs outstretch
ed. with one foot feeling the all-important
brake, he jogs onward with his monster
charge without trouble or concern ; the lxils
upon the horses' breasts jingle a little tune; j
the great wheels crush the stones in the ■
path; the ]<> Ad creaks like a ship's hull in a
sudden gust; wild birds sweep down into '
hazy, sunny depths below; yet the driver'
se?ms to lake no heed, llut let a scare take j
place; let a herd of runaway cattle appear i
at a bend and set the horses wild, and then 1
sec what will happen. The dav-dreanier
will become a giant of strength : he is up ;
in u flash: he shortens his hold upon the
reins, and feeling his wagon start up beneath ,
him, places a f<x>t of iron on the brake, j
The horses snort and rear and surge; the
harness rattle, the dust arises, the load !
shrieks again, aud the huge wheels turn
fatally faster and faster. An instant may
lmrl the wagon down into the valley with
its struggling train—a mod rush to the
other side of the way may end all in one
horrible plunge, muscle, eye, brain, skill
are then brought to work so splendidly to
gether that the peril is averted, and the
looker-on, who knows not the way of the
land, regards the teamster with profound
respect t hereafter.
The Karl of Ka*ex'* Ring-
The gnv and accomplished Earl of Essex
occupied a proud and enviable position.
He was the favorite courtier of Queen
Elizulieth, and had been loaded with honors
and made Lord-Deputy of Ireland. More
over. he had received a distinguishing
proof of the affection of his royal mistress
in the gift of a ring, aecompan ed with the
promise, "That should he ever forfeit her
favor, to return it to her, and the sight of
it would immediately ensure liis forgive
ness."
But the alluring favor of a sovereign is
often fluctuating and dangerous. Dark
ness and sorrow soon overtook the proud
Earl of Essex. He was sent a close priso
ner to the gloomy Tower, under charge
of high treasoh, and he must yield his
life as a penalty for his crime. Elizabeth,
with a bold hand, had signed the death
warrant, and the time for his execution was
rapidly approaching.
lie had been conducted to prison in a
way most harrowing to his sensitive spirit.
The death instrument —the axe—had been
carried in advance of him, with its sharp
edge full in his view, and a merciless, curi
ous crowd laid followed, cruelly taunting
him.
But his greatest danger came from his
rivals and enemies. There were courtiers
liigh in power and in favor with the Queen
who gloik'd in his down!'a'<j and thirsted for
his blood.
It was a terrible time for the unfortunate
Essex, and his soul was shrouded iu black
ness. His doom appeared inevitable.
At last a faint my light arose and
struggled for mastery iu his bosom. The
Queen's gilt, the ring was in his possess
ion, and lie remembered her promise. Pos
sibly it might lead to his deliverance.
Tl(>w~coulcl He well"
knew he was surrounded by treachery, and
it was difficult to distinguish friends from
foes. Could no trusty messenger be found
to whom he could eonfide the precious
pledge of past favor to his royal mistress,
and be certain it could reach her?
Long did he wrestle with torturing
doubts and fears, and after much reflection
be decided to make a confidante of the
Countess of Nottingham. She had always
seemingly manifested a strong interest in
him, and had constant access to the Queen.
Accordingly, she was sent for, and Essex
gave her the ring, and begged her to take
it to Elizabeth and entreat her royal par
don for his offence.
Unfortunate Essex! The messenger he
had chosen in this dark hour of despair and
agony was a °ecret and hitter enemy. As
soon as the Countess of Nottingham had
gained the ring, she hurried with it to her
husband, and they mutually agreed to con
ceal the ring and never reveal it to the
Queen that it had been sent.
In the meantime, Elizabeth, the great
sovereign of England, was sorely agitated
and sorrowful. She had firmly signed the
death-warrant of the Earl of Essex, but
without designing h s execution. His rich
and versatile talents and manifold attrac
tions had won her affection, and she anx
ious to save him. He had her pledge of
past favor —the ring—and her royal prom
ise when she would behold it, it
would ensure pardon for any offence. Why
(lid he not return it to her? His conduct
was unaccountable. Would this high
spirited nobleman prefer to suffer an igno
minious death on the scaffold rather than
ask clemency.
There was no solution of the mystery;
and as the hours passed and no messenger
appeared before tlo Queen bearing the ex
j I acted ring, her heart grew hard and cold
; toward Essex, and she determined never,
! unasked, to revoke the sentence of death.
Time went on. Elizabeth was suffering
the keenest anguish, and she could not
fathom the surprising obstinacy of her
favorite courtier. Essex, too, was hope-
I less and despairing, lie felt that bis doom
was sealed. The Queen bad received the
ring, but it had failed to awaken any feel
ings of pity or mercy within her, and he
could see no way of deliverance.
The hour for the execution of Essex
came. Accompanied by a strong guard he
was conducted to theßcaffold. The heads
man was there, and a erowd of malignant,
I blood-thirsty people, anxious to see him
i die.
The fortitude of Essex did not desert
him in this awful hour. Calmnly he luid
his head on the block. The axe fell, and
the envied, brilliant Essex was no more.
The tidings of Essex's death quickly
spread. Thongh he had many rivals anil
enemies plotting his ruin, the heart of the
nation was true and faithful to him, and
the people were amazed and horrified.
The soul of Elizabeth was shrouded with
gloom, but she adroitly concealed her grief
under a mask of gayety.
The days and weeks con inued to come
and go. The Countess of Nottingham grew
ill. A terrible secret was buiicd in her
breast, and its jxrisou was slowly destroy
ing her. Her guilt robbed her life of all
joy and light. It was ever fx fore her in all
, its bideousness and blackness—a terrible
accuser from which she could never es
cape.
Daily and hourly lier illness increased J
Neither medical skill nor the most careful j
nursing availed anything, -lier anguish i
was dreadful. As her end approached her !
remorse was unconquerable. Again and
again she culled for Elizabeth, and a mes
senger was sent to summon lite Queen.
In feeble, broken accents, the dying
Countess disclosed to her her fatal secret.
Without any concealment she confessed
"that the Earl of Essex had entrusted her
with the ring, to convey it to her; but at
the instigation of her husband she bad kept
it, and could not die in peace without her
forgiveness."
When informed of the truth, the rage of !
Elizabeth had no Inainds. She seized the |
arm of the Countess, and cried: ".May God i
forgive you, I uevei can!"
it was a shock from which the Queen i
neverßecovered. Her pledge of affection J
had caused the death of lier much loved i
Essex, and she could not be comforted. |
Sx>n life became a burden. Her step
grew weary and heavy. Ambition was
quenched. She ltccame bitter and des
jvttic to her people, and her days and
nights were passed in tears and groans till
death released her.
Her last act was to appoint James, son
of the ill-fated Man- Queen of Scotland,
to 1K her successor. Elizabeth was the I
greatest of England's sovereigns. She as- !
sen)bled around her the most learned and
brilliant men of the times, who contrib-!
uted much to the glory of her reign.
She expired in the year KO7, at the age !
of seventv.
A lieHih Duel.
A bloody duel took place recently near
Cot to wood, Mo., three miles above the Ar
kansas line, and about a hundred miles
north of Memphis on the Mississippi river,
and resulted in the death of both the com
batants. The quarrel was between two
farmers, named A. M. Crockett and Doc.
Nichols, nn'd grew out of Nichols' stock
trespassing upon Crockett's lan 1. A bit
terness grew up between them, and one
carried his griefs into the courts. One day
they met at the point mentioned when
Nichols cried out: "You see I have not
yet been arrested!" Crockett replied: "I
see you haven't, you rascal, and 1 propose
to whip it out of you right here!" Nichols
said "All rtght; you just wait till I fix this
coffee on my mule and I will join you in
that little game!" Crockett quietly await
ed Nichols movements until both men met.
Crockett drew a large pocket-knife, while
Nichols displayed a dirk, or bowie knife.
The bloody work began at once, and blood
flowed like water from the wounds each
stroke of the deadly weapons made in the
bodies of the antagonists. Crockett fiually
got in a stroke on Nichols' neck which
severed the juguar vein; having previous
ly cut his tongue completely out. Nichols
fell dead by the side of Crockett, who lay
on the ground completely exhausted from
loss of blood. He survived his wounds
only four hours. No one saw the desper
ate conflict, but a passing neighbor reached
the place a tew momeuts before Crockett,
died, from whom lie learned the above par
ticulars. The centleinan did all he could
for Crockett, but he had received his
death blow. On Nichols' Ixidy thirteen
wounds had been inflicted, while on Crock
ett were eighteen. It is stated that the
spat .where Uuty fought bore evidences of
a long and most terrible conflict. Both
men leave families, that of Nichols con
sisting of his wife and eight children. Both
wore respected by their neighbors, but
Crockett was considered a dangerous quar
relsome man, while Nichols was a peacea
ble and very quiet neighbor.
Fruit Drying Ky Cold Riant
An experiment was made at a foundry in
Placerwille last week, in fruit curimr, by
blast of eold air. In this experiment about
a peck of sliced apples were placed in a
sieve and subjected to a cold blast for three
and a half hours in the cupola furnace of
flie foundry, and the fruit is reported to
have been completely and beautifully cured
by the treatment, remaining soft and with
out the slighest discoloration. We were
alxiut to say dried, but cured is a better
word, for there wrs none of that hard, harsh
stiff dryness about it which frequently re
suits from drying by sun heat or fire heat
The experiment was a most gratifying suc
cess, and in our judgment is fraught with
results of great importance to the growers
and manipulators of fruit. The blast of
cold air completely frees the fruit from its
excess of moisture, with no possibility of
burning or shriveling it. Compared with
sun drying, it effects a great saving of time
and labor. Compared with fire drying, it
effects a great saving of expense, attention
and risk. Anybody who can command or
devise a strong blast of cola air, can dry
fruit in a superior—we might say perfect—
manner, without being dependent on the
weather and waiting on the slow process of
sun drying, and without the more expen
sive resort to fuel and the risk of everheat
ing.
1 lie Duke of Edinburgh.
At un early liotir the Duke of Edinburgh
is mostly to be found reading or writiug in
bin own morning-room—a snug apartment,
which like all the others iu the house is
comfortably, not luxuriously, furnished.
Deformed an it ia by exterior hideousness,
East well supplies an excellent instance in
favor of those practical people who insist
that houses were not made to be looked at,
but to be lived in. The rooms are well
disposed for the purpose of circulation, and
those in use every day are on the ground
floor. Dining-rooin, music-room, drawing
rooms, morning-rooms ami tioudoir are all
on a level, and are therefore deliciously
convenient and comfortable, full of air and
light. Two other apartments on the first
floor are of especial Interest to the select
circles visiting at Enstwell. These are
the day end night nurseries, absolute mo~
dels of what such apartments should be.
To begin with, they are of immense size,
perfectly lighted and -ventilated, furnished
with light maple and cane furniture, and
completely free from the stuffness of deep
carpets and nigs. In a comer of the day
nursery is a military tent, a birthday pre
sent from his futher to Prince Alfred, and
is treasured accordingly. It is a Spartan
kind of un edifice, of gray-striped material,
with a plain deal table and a stool—the
kind of tent that dtr ulte Fritz , who did
not like dandy officers, loved to see his
own ensconced iu. Before a brightly-burn
ing fire is one of those good old-fashioned
brass fire-guards, several feet high, and to
the left of this the cots of the four little
children are arranged. The two youngest,
tired with the morning promenade, are fast
asleep; hut the little Prince is obviously
already outgrowing the idea of going to hf d
at midday, for he is laughing merrily at the
joke of being tucked up again after his
glorious run with black "Prince." IJttle
Princess Marie, with her shower of fair
hair spread over the pillows and her great
blue eyes only half ojen, is a delightful
subject foe a painter—a tiny sleeping beauty
in the prettiest of woodlands. This mid
day rest is part of the regular programme
at Eastweli, ami appears to he successful,
if one may judge by present results, for
finer and heavier children of their age than
Prince Alfred and his sisters could hardly
t>e found.
! At midday the Duke of Edinburgh has
got through his serious reading, aud per
i haps some practicing for the family musical
! party of the evening, and is ready for a
J drive round the park, which is beautiful
and spacious enough to afford ample scope
| for any species of out-door t entertainment.
In tlie afternoon friends a'rrive from the
country side, from London, from Paris and
from St. Petersburg. Like the majority of
those who prefer a small circle of friends
to the crowd and noise of large assemblies,
England's Sailor Prince is thoroughly ap
preciated by all who know him. He is
emphatically what is called a quiet man—
i cheerful rather than joyous, pleasant rather
! than sparkling. Thoroughly German in
his taste for nmsic and serious studies, he
is completely English in his domestic life.
; No man is more pleased with the perfect
working of his establishment—from the
metropolitan inspect tor, who, with a brace
I of constables, keeps watch and ward at
East well to the clerk who attends his pri
vate telegraph office. Old habits of disci
pline picked up on the Galatea, and con
firmed by recent experience afloat, cannot
| be lightly shaken off, although the sportive
1 humor of early days may have died out. I
| lake his brother, the Prince of Wales, the j
Duke of Edinburgh likes good things in'
reasonable quantities, and is a steady oppo- j
ncnt of the German custom of turning din- j
ner into a wearisome ceremony, protracted 1
beyond all reasonable limit by a cumbrous
menu. At the little dinners at Eastwell
there is no bewildering number of dishes,
but a good, straightforward bill of fare,
which may lie eaten through with perfect
enjoyment. Rare things, however, appear
at these modest banquets—dishes the mere
mention of which sets the gourmand agog
—wild boar from the forests in which Ar
minius brought the Roman legions to naught
aud sterlet from distant Volga. The sterlet,
which is to the sturgeon as a smelt is to a
whiting, arrives on some lucky days at
Eastwell packed in ice. The eating of him
is a species of celebration, and very good
indeed he is when 'accommodated after
the genuine Russian fashion. As a rule,
music follows dinner at Eastwell; but at i
times—on the days, for instance, when the
Revue dm Deux Mondes arrives—the
Duchess of Edinburgh, who reads a great
deal in several languages, will return to her
boudoir, *to learn the last words of the
Frefich authors, whom she knows as tho
roughly as the Russian poets aud novelists
whose works are to l>e found wherever she
is. There are no late hours at Eastwell;
the life in which is simply that of the
young parents of an interesting family, who
find fair quiet and sweet rest among the
Kentish woodlands.
Observatory on Mount Etua.
The Italian Government is about to con
struct a large observatory on Mount Etna.
A site has been selected at & height of
9,652 feet above the level of the sea, near
the Casa degl* Inglesi, so called from a
building erected there in 1811 by the En
glish during their •ccupation of Sicily. The
purity of the atmosphere is so great at its
elevation that the planets can be observed
with the naked eye almost as well as with
telescopes of low power through the thick
atmosphere of towns. Venus, when sinning
alone in the heavens, casts a distinct
shadow. This will be the second loftiest
observatory in the world, the United States
signal station at Pike's Peals, in Colorado,
at an elevation of 14,336 feet, being the
loftiest station,
Arabian Proverbs.
If your stomach is not strong, do not eat
roaches.
If one cannot build a house, he builds a
shed.
A bald-headed person does not care for a
razor.
The thread is quite accustomed to fol
low the path of the reedle.
The sole of the foot is exposed to all the
filth of the road.
The pot-hd is always badly off; the pot
gets the sweet and the lid gets the steam.
Without powder a gun is only a rod.
He who waits for chaace will have to
wait a year.
He who marries a beauty, marries trou
ble.
Though a man may miss other things, he
never misses his mouth.-
We wake, and find markes on the palm
of our hand, but we know not who made
them; we wake, and find an old debt, and
eanmet remember hew we incurred it.
Healthy MIKI Unhealthy Occupation
There Is said to be dust everywhere, but
what constitutes dust is variable material.
Many occupations, the working of fibres no
less than the working of metals, develop
dust utul seriously affect the lungs. Iron
often settles there. A workman, who had
polished iron, died, and his lungs were
found to lie hardened and actually one per
cent, of iron in their substance. Grinding,
particularly needle-grinding, is very fatal.
These grinders die at the average of 31.
The grinding of other metal products is un
healthy, but tea less terrible degree, and
grinders afe proverbially neglectful or proper
precautious. Making-ground glass is a hard
life, and hardly any of the workmen at It
are sound. Thirty-five per cent, die of
OQUsugaptknt and tunny, lose thstrtesthmdbi
suffer virtual lead poisoning. Diamond,,
cutters are generally sick men. Vegetable
dust is unhealthy, too. The man who pre
pare moulds for cast nigs sprinkle them with
powdered cliarcoal. They have finally a
catarrh with black expectorations, and die
of the disease. Millers do not suffer from
inlialing dust, but they have a singular
skin disease, oft nest affecting the left
shoulder, where they carry meal bags. It
itches at night only, and. according to some
authorities, is not a vegetable matter but an
insect. Making brushes is very bad for the
health, as bits of bristle go into the
lungs. In button making bone dust Is not
injurious, but mother of pearl is, very.
Feather handling is e feedbml, bad for
the lungs and throat, and for the eyes, and
artificial llower making brings
with it. Working in copper actually makes
the hair green and the teeth and it is said
the bones, but it is not injurious. Copper is
seldom worked alone and what is called
copper poisoning is probably lead poison
ing. Seamstresses suffer fro in poisoning from
the stuffs they work. They also hurt their
eyes, but the sewing machine, it is now
held, is rather a benefit than any injury !t
used only a few hours a day. It is the all
day work at it in bad air that has given it
its bad name. Tobacco-working involves
a week or two of sickness at first, but thfa
is overcome, and after it the woikmen are
said to be particularly free from epidemic
diseases. However its effects upon women
are said to be permanently bad. There is
I a great lack of children with them. Bleach
ing is a cause of serious trouble from
eczema, which comes from the hot water
and lye, which also gives washerwomen
cracked handsand eczema. Ninety per cent,
of the people employed in preparing sul
phate of quinine are taken down with
severe eczeinatous troubles and often high
fever. This is a disease that overcomes
new workmen and which they only have
once. Gasmen also have skin troubles
from the violent sweating brought on by
the heat, and changes of temperature also
develop rheumatism. There is no bron
chitis or lung troubles among them. The
only way in which mirrors can be made
without the horrors of mercurial poisoning
is by using silver and letting quicksilver
1 alone, but considerable can be done in im
prove the condition of mercury workers If
they can lie made to keep clean, and not to
eat in their workshops. Matches in every
1 house and every pocket are made at a
terrible cost. Match-makers (not matri
monial, but material), have their intellects
dulled by the fumes they inhale and suffer
dreadful necrosis of the jaw. No one with
impci feet teeth can make matches and not
loose his jawbone and teeth. Working in
rubber produces "rubber poisoning," which
is accompanied by catarrh and eczema and
is marked by a singular development of
despondency, that leads to disjfair and the
abandonment of the work,"after which
recovery comes naturally in. It is a singu
lar fact that offensive odors are not un
healthy. Tanners are proverbally well. In
cholera plagues tanners are exempt.
Butchers hardly ever know what consump
tion is. Even scavengers of the lowest order
are very well, and stables boys are aotori-
OUBI - v
' X TJkVUI BHKMI W
The lncenlmis ElcplutnL
The duke of Argyl in his "Reign of Law**
was, 1 think, the first who promulgated the
dictum that man is the only tool-making
animal. As far as I can ascertain, this as
sertion is admitted by developmentists, yet
it is undoubtely true that the Indian eleph
ant makes two implements, or forms and
alters certain things so as to adapt them ea
pecially to fulfill definite purposes, for which,
unaltered, they would not be suitable. One
evening, soon after my arrival in Eastern
Assam, and while the iive elephants were aa
usual being fed opposite bungalow, I
observed a young and lately caught one step
up to a ban.boo-etake fence* and quietly "
pull up one of the stakes. Placing it under
foot, ii broke a piece off with its *runk, and
after lifting it to its mouth, threw it away.
It repeated this twice or thrice, and then
drew another stake and began again. See
ing tnat the bamboo was eld and dry, I
asked the reason of this, and was told to
wait and see what it would do. At last it
seemed to get a piece that suited, and hold
ing it in the trunk firmly, and stepping the
left fore-leg well forward, passed the piece
of bamboo under the armpit, so to speak,
and began to scratch with some force. My
surprise reached its climax when I saw a
large elephant leech fall en the ground, quite
six inches long and as thick as one's finger,
and which, from its position, could not eas
ily be detached without this scraper, or
scratch, which was deliberately made by
the elephant. I subsequently found that
it was a common occurence. Leech scrap
ers are used by every elephant daily. On
another occasion, when traveling at a time
of } ear when the large flies are ao torment
ing to an elephant, I noticed that the one I
rode had no fan or wisp to beat them off
with. The may lout, at my order, slacken
ed pace, and allowed her to go to the side
of the road, where for some momeats she
moved along rummaging the smaller jungle
on the bank. At last she came to a cluste
of young shoots well branched, and aftet •_
feeling among them, and selecting one,
raised her trunk and nearly stripped down
the stem, taking off all the lower branches
and leaving a fine bunch on top. She de
liberately cleaned it down several times, then,
laying hold at the lower end broke off a
beautiful fan or switeh about five feet long,
handle included: With this she kept the
flies at bay as we went along, flapping them
off on each side every now and then. Say
what we may, these were both really bona
fide implements, each intelligently made
for a definite purpose.
Modesty in your furniture, equipage
and words will show tha your mind is
well regulated, and heart fre
from passion.
NO. 4.