VOL. LIV. PROFESSIONAL CARDS. -. - ■ C. T. Alexander. C. M. Bower. ATTORNEYS AT LAW. BELLEFONTK, PA. Office In Garman's now building. JOHN B. LINN, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLEFONTK, PA. Office on Allegheny Street. QLEMENT DALE, ATTORNEY" AT LAW. BELLEFONTK, PA. Northwest corner of Dlttnond. D. G. Bush. S. H. Yocum. D. H. Hastings. JgUSH, YOCUM & HASTINGS, ATTORNEYS AT LAW. BELLEFONTF., PA. High Si reet. Opposite First; National Bank. C. HEINLE, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLEFONTK, PA. Practices in all the courts of Centre County. Spec al attention to Collections. Consultations In German or English. w ILBUR F. REEDER, ATTORNEY AT LAV, BELLEFONTK, PA. All bus ness promptly attended to. Collection of claims a speciality. J A. Beaver. J. W. Uephart. JJEAVEK & GEPHART, ATTORNEYS AT LAW. BELLEFONTK, PA. Office on Alleghany Street,, North of High, yy A. MORRISON, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLEFONTK, PA. Office on Woodrlng*s Block, Opposite Court Hou.-e. S. KELLER, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BELLEFONTK, PA. Consultations In English or German. Office in Lyon'a Building, Allegheny Street. JOHN G. LOVE, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BELLEFONTK, PA. Office In the rooms formerly occupied by the late w. P. Wilson. yjHLLHEIM BANKING CO., MAIN STREET, MILLIIEIM, PA. A. WALTER, Cashier. DAV. KRAPB, Pres. HARTER, AUCTIONEER, REBERSBCRG, PA. Satisfaction Guaranteed. A Needless Alarm. There are but few, if any insects, either in the larval or perfect state, but what may be eaten with perfect safety. Some, how ever, have oils in them which forbid their being eaten in quanties at a time, . because of what is called their richness. All may be eaten in limited quanties. The so-called centipedes, or thousand legged worms, are effen by some of the human race, and may be by all, so far as anything poisonous is concerned. What is called the great white grub, the young of the May beetle which, in great numbers, are often ploughed up in our fields and gardens, is a favorite dish with some of the most enlightened people. The Mahometan loathes the oyster as we do the scorpion or spider, and says of the Cnristian, "he is a dirty dog, because he eats oysters." It is our prejudice, ignorance and education that makes us view these things with loathing and fear. I have my self seen a schoolteacher, in my boyhood, eat of the rattlesnake. The silk worms are extensively eatem in some countries, and snails are much thought, of by some persons as are oyster by us. And so with spiders, so generally feared. They are reckoned equal to any dish that can be made up by some people. If insects were poisonous we should destroy ourselves "daily," so to speak, for we are constantly taking them iDto our systems in what we eat; that is, living matter in the form of the infusoria, the insect larvae or some other shape, kind or form. Let attention be given to tlie con dition of the vegetable itself, the:efoie, rather than to the worm, for a person had better eat a pound of any kind of worms than an ounce of decaying, diseased vegeta ble matter. Woman as Artists. There are now in France 1,700 women engaged in literary pursuits, and 2,120 who make a living by cultivating the fine arts. Two-thirds of the former were born in the provinces, chiefly in the south, while a si milar proportion of the artists were born in Paris. Of the 1,700 writers, 1000 have written novels or short stories for young people; 200 are poets, 150 write on educa tion and science, the remainder are com pilers, translators and the like. Of the ar tists, 10 are sculptors, 602 oil painters, the majority being painters of portraits, flowers, and still nature, 103 are miniaturists, 754 painters on porcelain, and 404 draw and engrave on wood, paint in water-colors, ornament fans and the like. BE STRONG. Be strong to hope. O Heart! Though day is bright, The stars can onlv shine In the dark night Be strong, O Heart of mine, Look toward the light! Be strong to bear, O Heart! Nothing is vain; Strive not for life is care. And God sends pain; Heaven is above, aud there Rest will remain! Be strong to love, O Heart! Lo.e knows not wrong; Didst thou love—creatures even, Life were not long; Didst thou love God in heaven. Thou wouldst be strong. The Belle of Wolf Run. A company of strolling players hi a barn. The great space is lighted by lamps of every description, the most ambitious of which is a circle of hoops stuck full of can dles. This does duty as the grand chand elier, and is quite effective. Seated near the stage, before which hangs a green curtain, are two persons—a man and a young girl, whom, even the uuprac ticed eye might take as rustic lovers. He is a tall, finely-formed young fellow; with a uoble head and keen, sparkling blue eyes. She is the beauty of Wolf Run, faultless in figure and feature, and with a something in her expression deuoting that 9he is not quite satisfied with her position, even as the belle of the villiage. or her surroundings. Margaret Lee had never in her life seen a play, therefore she was prepared to realize all the emotions of novelty, terror, wonder, delight, with which a novice looks on the strut and action of these who cater to the profouudest emotions. Of course she for got where she was; of course she was daz zled aud terribly stirred at the love scenes, which were, as usual, exaggerated. The hero of the drama was a handsome, worthless rascal, who learned, before the evening was through, to play at our unso phisticated little Margaret, reading her ad miration in her eyes, and enjoying the smiles, tears, and almost spoken interest, of the beauty of Wolf Run. "Pretty good—wasn't it ?" said Charlie Vance, as be held her fleecy red shawl to wrap about her, at the close of the perform ance. Margaret had no words, she only gasped: "Oh, Charlie!" as they gained the door, aud caught at hi 9 arm; for there stood the hero of the stage, still in his bespang led velvet finery, and evidently stationed at that particular place in order to catch a glance at her lovely face. "Confound his impudence.'' Charlie Vance muttered between his teeth. Margaret shivered a little as they left the barn. Everybody was laughing and talk ing. The soft, clear, round moon shed its light upon a scene of sylvan beauty; but the two spoke but few word 9 until they had reached Margaret's home—a square white house set back in a garden. "A little of that goes a great ways," said the young farmer, who had evidently been thinking the matter over. "They stay here a week or more. 1 don't care to go again, do vou ?" "Oh, I do believe I could go every night." said Margaret, fervently. a .hard set, Maggy, "said her lover, a little malice in his voice. "How do ycu know? Are you sure of that ?" she asked, eagerly and reprovingly. "Oh, they're generally thought to be. Well, good'-night, Maggyand he had gone ten steps before it occured to him that they had parted without a kiss. "I don't care," he said, sullenly, half aloud; "and that fellow staysat her uncle's tavern, too. Why should it nettle me so, anvway ?" Now Margaret and her cousin Anne were almost as inseparable as sisters. It was with a quick beating heart that the former took her way to the tavern next day, meeting Anne as usual at the private entrance for the family. "Oh, Mag!" cried Anne, her eyes spark , ling, "youhave made a conquest." "What do you mean ?" asked Margaret, her fair face flushing, her pulses beating tumultously. "Why, you know—last night. Oh, isn't he glorious!—exquisite? and only think he asked papa who that very* lovely girl was n pink ribbons in the second seat —and that was you! Papa laughed and told him his niece, and somebody else said something verv handsome about you at the table, and then papa up and said you were engaged to I Charlie Vance, which sounded so ridiculous. And I give you my word of honor the gen tleman turned pale." | "Nonsense!" said Margaret; but the flat tering words bad accomplished their work, and it was not hard to persuade her to stay to dinner, where of course her lovely blush i ing face did not a little executiorf "Well, Maggy, what is it to be?" asked Charlie Vance, sternly. This was only a week afterward. All the softness had gone out of his face as he spoke. His eyes had ! lost their gracious, sparkling beauty. It ! might be that his cheeks were a trifle thin, and certainly his dark face was haggard. "Oh, Charlie!" —she stood on the other I side of the spacious hearth, drooping and timid, her face very white, and the large eyes startled in expression, like those of a frightened fawn. "You are changed, Maggy. Idont say it alone. God help us both, it s talked all over the place. Last night, when I heard something at Dilleways, I felt like going home and blowing my brains out." "Ob, Charlie!" The voice was mre plaintive, and the . little figure drooped yet lower. "And it all comes of .that infernal villain. It all comes of yoifl* going back and forth I to the hotel, and with your Cousin Anne, to see him." ! "He is going away to-day," she cried, a great pain in her voice. "And you will see him before he goes?" "Oh, no, no, Charlie. Oh, don't look so cruel. I can't see pirn now you know Ican't! "Since you've heard that he's got a wife i elsewhere, eh?" "Charlie! I don't care; it isn't that,' she answered chokingly. How could she a( jd "It'is because I have found him base, untrue, when he seemed to me like an angel lof light." • , r Her red lips quivered; the tears stood large and shining on her lashes, her eyes were downcast, her hands folded with the rigid clasp of despair. "I shall never see him again,' she whis- MILLIIEIM, PA., THURSDAY, APRIL 8, 1880. pered, hoarsely; but if you say all is over between us, why it must be so." " I don't out her: but, like a flash of lighting, the two were torn asunder, and the man was thrown headlong with one blow from the powerful arm of Charlie Vance. "Go!" he said, sternly, pointing to the Tightened girl. "I can save you from his insolence, but I cannot promise to save you from yourself. Go, and think on your broken promises." Latter in the day Charlie came up to Mar garet's house and asked for her. "Whatever is the matter with the child ?" queried the mother. I never saw her in such low spirits." The young man made no answer, but went into the cool, shaded parlor. Presently Margaret came down, white as a lilly. There was an unspoken question in her wide, tearless eyes. "No, I didn't kill him, Maggie, though he deserved it. I don't want the crime of mur der on my soul, even for you my poor girl. But 1 sent him away as subdued and cool ed-down a man as ever you see. Such men are always cowards. And now, Maggie you're free. I never should want to think of the look you gave him while I held you in my arms, and I should have to think of it. I've come to saj T good-bye, for I'm off for the West, and if ever I—hello!" There was a low, broken sob, and on his chest Margaret lay a dead weight. The girl had fainted away. Well, a long sickness followed. Charlie could not leave her lying there between life and death, and the first visit after she could set up settled the matter. Margaret had conquered her vanity, which, after all, was more touched than her affections, and found that there was only one image in the heart that had been, as she thought, so.torn with conflicting struggles—and that was the frank, honest, blue-eyed Charlie Vance, who had loved her ever since she was a baby. Aud of course they were married. Mining Experts. In a recent conversation with Mr. W. B. Welles, of New York, we asked that gen tleman his opinion of mining-experts as they are known to miners. "I can give you my opinion in no better way," he re plied, "than relating an incident in the suit of the famous Emma Mine, which took place in Utah, and in which Schenck, of Ohio, was seemingly mixed up. During the trial, one C'apt. Tom Bates, a man known throughout the mining regions of the west, was on the witness-stand, and one of the lawyers, in cross-examination asked: "You are a mining-expert. Mr. Bates?" "No, sir. lam not," was the answer. "Did I not understand you to say that you had visited and inspected most of the known mines of the west?" "You did, sir." "And have you uot made mining a study for years?" "I have, sir." "Well then, please state to the court the definition of a mining-expert." "Well, sir, a mining-expert is a man who wears eye glasses, parts his hair in the middle, has graduated at Freiburg, and speaks very bad English." Then there was a profonnd silence in court, and the Captain sat down. The Secon ' Love. You must permit me to offer you my congratulations. Mr. Renaud will, no doubt, be more happy than most of the Benedicts, having distanced so many com petitors ; and he is also greatly to be euvied in finding a Beatrice so artless and so un touched by the world and its vanities. For myself, the woman I shall marry is not born. When she appears, I will let you know ; until then, believe me your very sincere friend. ALHKKD FIELD. Thus wrote Alfred Field to his former Jiuncee , Miss Eflie Severe, on the receipt of I her wedding-cards, a few days before her marriage. He had loved her in the old days two years before ; but Elfle was an un deniabie little flirt, and Alfred having been severely tried once or twice by reports of the havoc caused by •'Those sweet eyes, those low replies." he had forced himself to forget her, and sternly deny to his longing eyes the sight of her faithless, but still beloved face. His victory over himself he had thought aom plete until the sight of her wedding cards, with the formal "Miss Severe" and "Mr. Renaud" in such cloAe and significant rela tion, seemed to bring back some of his old feelings. He suddenly resolved to go to her wedding; and arriveil just in time to wit ness the ceremony at the church. He followed the bridal party home, and entered the old familiar home with the throng, who crowded around the happy pair to offer their joyfnl congratulations. At his approach Eflie gave a violent 9tart. "Eflie," cried Alfred, in a low, intense tone, "1 would give my soul could I believe this day were all a dream!" "You threw away your own happiness,." returned Ettle, iu a tone deep with sup pressed emotion. "And now you are left to look forward to felicity with 'the woman who is not yet born." Years passed away, and Alfred Field still lingered in the realms ot bachelordoui. The sunlH'ams glanced on many a silver thread among his chestnut curls as he sat on the deck of a steamer one fair spring afternoon, about nineteen years after be had witnessed Eflie Severe's wedding. He was on his way to look after a little ward whom fate had thrown upon his hands in a rather curious manner. Years before, he rescued the child and its nurse from a burning house; and, no trace of the little orphan's parentage ever turning up, he had generously maintained her ever since. The nurse had liecome insane from the fright of that terrible night; and, after lingering for years in this condition, was now about to (lie. He was iooking forward to meeting quite a little girl when he arrived at his lonely villa just outside the town; but as he en tered the gate, and advanced up the wind ing avenue which led to the home, he held his breath in wonder at the apparition tliat appeared to greet him. Was his old love risen from the dead past? In a bower of orange trees stood the living image of Effie Severe, leaning forward with wager expectancy written iu every line of her mobile face. "Dear guardian!" said she. Bpringimr forward, and seizing his hand. Alfred was speechless with emotion. "Speak to your little Gertrude, will you not, dear gulrdian ?" pleaded the sweet voice. It was'long ere Alfred oould command himself sufficiently to talk coherently to his little ward. The likeness was indeed won drous ; and as day by day flew by, and the old nurse still lay in an unconscious state, Alfred remained in that fairy villa, having ample opjiortunity to And out how much in mind, as well as in person the fair young Gertrude was like his lost Effie. Soon agaiu Alfred Field loved, with all the in tensity of his nature. At last the old nurse died. Just before her death she regained her mind for a brief space, and in broken accents told them where to find a pocket bible, which had be longed to Gertrude's mother. He took her in his arms, held her close to his beating heart, and never let her free until she had promised, with her sweet face hidden in his bosom, to be his love, his darling, his wife. As he unclasped her from Disarms, a book, which had been lying in her lap, fell to the ground, and from between its leaves dropped a letter, old, worn, and wrinkled. "Where did you get this?" he gasped "It was my mother's Bible, and that let ter was tied inside," auswered Gertaude. in great surprise. "Ah, beloved?" returned Alfred, folding licr once more in his arms. "Your mother was my first and early love; you are my last and eternal affection." ••Zis la one Gram! Meextake." With both eyes hidden by the black swoollcn lids that had risen to a level with the bridge of his nose, Henri Larquette, whose shirt front was spattered with blood that had dropped from his- badly damaged lips, presented a really pitiable appearance when recently he appeared us a prisoner at the bar of the Police Court. "How did you get your injuries?" asked the Court. "Zis is one grand meestake, Monsieur," answered Henri, giving his shoulders the characteristic shrug of the Frenchman. "There can be no mistake that you have been injured by some one," said his Honor. ' 'Zis is no doubt true, Monsier, but zis is vera, vera painful. 1 would la-ike to have one conversation wiz ze doctaire? '' "But tell me who struck you?" "Madam Marquette, Moisiieur." "What! Your wife did that,?" said the Court, in evident astonishment. "Oui, Monsieur. Bhe was one grand fighting woman. Mon Dieu! How zat woman strike out wis her shouldaire !" ex claimed Henri. "Is she French, too?" asked His Honor, f "No, Monsieur. She was one Irs' woman zat 1 got 'quaint wis in Eurgpe." "She was nice then, eh"?" "Ah, oui, oui!" said Henri. "But now she is—" "One tarn tigaiie! I shall be undaire ze obligation to leave zis woman. She will take ze life of my friend. Last night I have some little wine, and when I was in my slumbaire zat woman come wis her fist and strike one such awfool blow zat I think I was one dead Frenchman." "I guess she punished you enough for getting tight. YY>u can go, but I would advise you to be temperate hereafter," said the Court. "Out. I go, but Ino go home wis zat woman, by tarn! Zat would be no good for me. Igo wis ze doctaire," said Henri, as he seized his hat and sadly passed out of court. A l'ro]il<>xliii[ rrpillcaiui'iit. The chateau of Lazieuski! Louis Dixhuit occupied it for some time during the French emigration; and it was there that the fat monarch was frightened into a fit of jaun dice, which lasted some time, and necessi tated the change of air which sent him to Wittau. In the garden exists a cool grotto, occupied by a cold bath, furnished by the waters of the little lake in the middle of which Lazieuski stands. The exiled Bour bon, then Count de Provence, was ac customed to use the bath frequently; and, one morning, after a night of rioting in the chateau, to which all the great drinkers amongst the high life of Warsaw hud been invited, be walked down leisurely through the garden to the grotto, determined to have a dip before retiring to rest for the day. The grotto was dark at all times, at that early time in the morning particularly so. •The Count de Provence hurried to strip and plunge into the pool, which lay clear and pellucid at the bottom of the marble steps, shining through the darkness like a mirror in which the moonlight is reflected. His royal highness, differing at that mo ment in nothing from the meanest peasant in the same expectant condition, walked down the steps, and was just about to throw himself into the water, when a surly oath broke, as it were, from the bottom of the bath, and in another moment a figure, all dripping, jumpCu up amid the darkness, and, seizing the count in a slippery grasp, flung him heavily forward, and burst into a hoarse laugh at his floundering, and al most unconscious with th shock occasioned by the surprise. It was Prince Kasolowski, the governor, who, inspired with the same idea as the Count de Provence, had hurried into the grounds with the same intention, and now stood before his royal guest, grin ning aud chattering, and presenting the most extraordinary flgure possible, for he wore, as sole raiment, the ribbon and collar of the Orjjer he had worn at the banquet, with his jeweled star upon his bare skin. By a not unusual characteristic of drunk enness, he had carefully replaced the insig nia after having undressed. The obese Bourbon, after having gazed at him wildly for a few moments, and, not recognizing him amid the obscurity of the grotto and his own troubled visions, rushed from the bath, and ran screaming through the grouuds towards the chateau, with Kasolowski at his heels, endeavoring to soothe his fears; and the household, aroused from slumber, beheld with amazement this extraordinary chase in the bright summer morning, and failed to recognize either of the actors in the scene until tlvey had reached the hall step. Poor Louis was put to bed well wrapped in blankets, but the shock was so great that it brought on a bilious attack, which terminated in a severe fit of jaun dice, and he was compelled to remove for change of air far front the place which he had always declared to be the most beauti ful spot he hail beheld in all the travels to