VOL. LIV. PROFESSIONAL CARDS OF BELLE-FONTE- C. T. Aiexaudt-i. C. M. kou. A BOWER, ATTORNEYS AT LAW, BELLEFONTE, PA. Office in Qann&n's new building. JOHN B. LINN, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA. Office on Allegheny Street. OLEMENT DALE, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BELLEFONTE, PA. Northwest corner of Dlimond. & HASTINGS, ATTORNEYS AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA. High Street, opposite F rst National Bank. M - c - HEINLE, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BELLEFONTE, PA. Practices in all the courts of Contre County. Spec &1 attention to collections. Consultations in German or Engl sh. ILBUR F. REEDER, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA. All bus ne*s promptly attended to. Collection of claims a speciality. J. A. Beaver. J. W. Gephart. JgEAVE* Building, Allegheny Street. JOHN G. LOVE, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA. omce in the rooms formerly occupied by the late w. p. Wilson. BUSINESS CURBS OF MILLHEIM, &C. CA. STURGIS, DEALER IN Watches, Clock*. Jewelry. Silverware, A3. Re pairing neatly and promp'ly don - and war ranted. Miln Street, opposite Bank, M llhelra. Pa. ~T O DEININGER, 1 * NOTARY PUBLIC. SCRIBNER AND CONVEYANCER, MILLHEIM, PA. All business en'rusted to him. su-h as writing and acknowledging Deeds, Mortgages, Relets s. Ac., will be executed wi h nmtaess aud ols patcb. Office on Naln Street. XT H. TOMLINSON, DEALER IN • ALL KINDS OF Groceries, Notions. Drugs. Tobacco*. Cigars, Fine Confectloue.les and everyth ng in the line of a first -class Grocery st re. Conntrv Produce 1 aken In exchange for goods. Main st eet. opposite bonk, Ml lhelm Pa. TYAVID I. BROWN, MANUFACTURER AND DEALER IN TINWARE, STOVEPIPES, dee., SPOUTING A SPECIALTY. Shop on Main Stre't. two h uses east of Bank, MUlhelm, Peuna. J EISENHUIH, * JUSTICE OF THE PEACE, MILLIIEIM, PA. All business promptly at tended X 3. collection of claims a >penalty. Office opposite Llsenhuin's Drug Store. 11l UcSSER & SMITH, DEALERS IN Hardware. Stoves, Oils, Paints, Glass, Wall Paper , coach Trimmings, and baddleiy Ware. AC., Ac. All grades of Patent wheels. Corner of Main and Penn btreet , Mlilhelra, Penna. - JACOB WOLF, FASHIONABLE TAILOR. MILLHEIM, PA. Cutting a Specialty. Sbop lioxf- dour tu Journal Book store. BANKING CO., MAIN STREET, MILLHEIM, PA. A. WALTER, Cashier. DAV. KRAPE, Pres. HARTER, AUCTIONEER, BXBSRSBCBQ, FA fntisfaotlOß Guaranteed ®i.e pillfccfm §§!, TIIK PASTOR'S STORY. The pas'or'* litt'o daughter Sits smiling in the sun. Beei.le her on t e old stone ben oh The ston-book Just done. And lurking m her wiue-browu eyes A story just begun, For yonder, pruuing tho apple trees, Behold tho farmer's son- Slowly adowu tho pathway Tne pastor oome* and g ies, And potilss with his long, lean baud Tne t;UsMt* on hie no ox Bore ever dry browu branch before So beautiful a rose ? Ah. he th nks his blossom only a bud. Though he watches it as it blows. Is it the story of Mo see In his rust.-wiapped cradle fouml. Or of Joseph and his bret >ern. He thinks as he g a noes round ? ••You have finished your volume. Amy, la it something scriptural and sound ?" And his little daughter blush, s aud starts. And her book talis to tho grouud. Go ou wiili your walk, good pastor, You do not yourself deceive : It has been a scriptural story Bitice Adam first kissed Eve. And ueior blush, little lassie. The ta e was written above. No o her so speaks of Heaven As the o.d Old story of love. The Hermit of Lone Cabin. Away to the base of the beetling crags anil cliffs of the hoary Sieiras stands a lonely cabin, where only rnin ami desola tion mark what might have once been a pleasant if uot a happy home. Well do I remember the dark, tempestu ous night that a lriend ami myself passed beueath its roof but a few years since. While seated before a glowing fire, for it was late in autumn, be gave me the follow ing veritable history of the place: Notwithstanding that it was miles from any habitation, several years before a soli tary individual had appeared in the vicin ity, aud out of the material that he pro cured from the neighboring forest built this rude cabin. lie was a stranger to all who met him, aud seeming to avoid rather than to seek acquaintance-, he soon became known as "Tne Hermit of Lone Cabin." Three years passed, and the unknown still lived in his sec.usion, sulisisting upon the game that he readily procured with the aid of his rifle. * One day about this time, as the hermit contrary to his usual habit, visited the nearest settlement, twenty miles below, he was met by a new-comer in the phice, who greeted him with the familiarity of an old lriencl. Appearing surprised, he denied ever hiv ing seen the other, and would fain have left him, but the would-be associate seised him by the collar, cxcla luing: "Y'ou cau't deceive uie, Loren Gray. 1 knew you the moment i saw you, though five years have changed your looks great ly. Don't you remember Frank Chap man. lam he. Come, old l>oy, I want to show you to another old friend whom you will be glad to see." blill the hertn t, confused and excited, protested that his name was not Loreu Gray, and that he had never met the other. "Twon't do old chap; you can't deceive me by playing off in that way," was the reply he received. "1 known that you are Loren Gray, and I have a friend down to Hie Eagle House who desires lo see you ou most important business. Come with me, and if be don't recognize you. I will stand the drinks for the crowd," for by this time quite a knot of spectators bad collect ed around the spot, eager to know what was up. Yielding with great reluctance, the her mit was half dragged by the impetuous stranger down to the public bouse, follow ed by a throng ot lookers-on. "1 tell you it's a mistake," repeated the victim; "my name is not Loren Gray, but —" By this time they had entered the build ing, and the stranger, turning quickly to a young man lying on a dry-goods l>ox near at baud, indolently smoking his pipe, cried: "Here Al, I have found him." Springing to his feet in surprise, the one addressed, wLo did not seem to be more thau twenty-cue or two years of age, but with a tall, athletic form, turned upon the intruders. As he caught sight of the hermit he stag gered back like one shot, and pressing his hand to his forehead, exclaimed: "Loren Gray I" "Yes," cried his friend, triumphantly, "I found hint less than five inmuies ago; but he has the audacity to deny his iden tity," Unheeding the words, the younger man faced the amazed hermit, and as his pierc ing eyes met the others, lie said hoarsely, trembling with passion: "Have you forgotten me, Loren Gray?" "For mercy's sake, tell me what this means! I am not Loren Gray, and neither do I know you." "Bah! Y'ou need not think to escape by your lies. I have not hunted for you this five years to be baffled now that I have found you. If you do not remember me, have you forgotten my sister, whom you betraved and murdereid?" "I- " "Not a word, dog! Y'ou can offer no atonement for the wrongs that you have done save in the sacrifice of your life. But I wish to take no advantage, aud I chal lenge you to meet me In mortal combat." "No, no!" cried the other. "Y'ou are a stranger to me and I have no quarrel with you. 1 must deciine to fight you." As the hermit spoke the words, which in the minds of the rough men around him marked him a coward, the room rang with their cries of derision. The young stranger, too, bis face nearly colorless with rage, uttered a contemptuous cry as he dealt the man a smart blow on the cheek. "There; see if that will not awaken you. 1 say that one of us must die. Take your choice of weapons and meet me at once. I am impaiient to have it over. 1 care but little if I fall, if I can know ere I die that the untimelv fate of my poor sister has been avenged. Come, Norman," address ing bis companion, "you will be my sec ond, while he can select whom he will. If I fall, you know my request. Don't let him escape. Well, Loren Gray, dare you pieet me like a man, or have yeu only MILLIIEIM, PA., THURSDAY, JULY 1, 1880. courage enough to war upon defenseless women ?" The hermit, fairly writhing under the treatment he had received, could only look upon him in silence. The excited crowd began to hoot him, anil the confusion was becoming ominous of danger to the trembling man, when the avenger sileuced them with a move of his hand. Then, drawing a brace of heavy revolv ers, he extended them both toward the other. "Take one," ho said fiercely. "I see you are not armed; but they are loaded alike, and you have nothing to fear from that score." Without a word the bewildered victim mechanically took one of the prollerod tire arms. 'Mid the applause of the crowd, the duel ist led the way to the door, aud out into the open air. Jostled and pushed by the excited spec tators, the hermit slowly followed. Once outside and the young stranger's second began to measure oil the ground for the duel. As the preliminaries were arranged, the duelists took the positions assigned them. The challenger emphatically waited the slow movement of bis fix*. "1 call upon you to witness," said the recluse of Lone Cabin, addressing the spec tators, "that this is no quahrel of mine. But, after this treatment 1 have received from this man, whom 1 positively say 1 never saw before, I ain driven to this. If I fall, please see that I have proper burial. As a last favor 1 beg that you will not in any way try to discover my identity. Will you promise that ?" Receiving the hearty assent of the by standers, the man signified that he was in read incss for action. There succeeded the ominous "one, two, three, tire," when the young stranger rap idly discharged his weapon and with such accuracy that his antagonist rented forward and fell to the earth without making a hos tile movement. Smiling grimly the slayer remained mo tionless as the spectators rushed to the side of the fallen man. "Is he dead?" cried one. "Dead as a stone!" exclaimed a tall weather-beaten mountaineer who was bend ing over the silent form. "Then my work is done, and the wrongs my poor sister suffered are avenged!" said the younger stranger as he turned to join his companion. Meanwhile some of the others began io make preparations for the burial of the un fortunate hermit. While a couple were in act of raising the body to bear it away, they were surprised to see the long, flowing beard worn by the unknown person fall to the ground, and a face as white and smooth as a maiden's suddenly disclosed to their gaze. A glance told them that it was false, and that the Hermit of Lone Cabin was a woman! In the height of the excitement following the discovery the stranger duelist reached the spot, aud as he haught sight of the fair countenance he cried: "My God! It is my sister!" and fell sen seless. To cut the story short, by the time the speaker recovered his consciousness after the fearful shock he had received, the wounded one began to show signs of re turning life. it was then found that though the Shot had barely eScaped being fatal, it was not likely to prove so. A long sickness followed, however, aud it was mouths before the wliole story was known. "The Hermit of Lone Cabin" was in deed tiie sister of hixi who bad nearly be come her murderer. Years before she had met and loved a man by the name of War ren Arnold, but on the day before that fix ed for their wedding he had disappeared, and she, nearly broken-hearted, was a few days after abducted and borne away to the mountain retreat of a band of road agenrs, the leader of whom was none other than her false lover. More grief-stricken than ever, she suc ceeded in escaping; hut, somewhat crazed, instead of returning to her friends, she had sought a life of loneliness. Her brother Ralph, who liad been away at school for three years, learned of her misfortunes and supposed death, and returned to his home to begiu a search for the villain who had been the cause of so much suffering. Warren Arnold's true name was Loren Gray, and Ralph ever spoke of him by that name, though his sister had never kuown him by it. Accompanied by his friend, Norman Ar.iu, he had sought far and w ide for him, but to make at last that well-nigh fatal error in mistaking the "hermit" for his foe. As his sister had not seen him for eight years, and at a time there is most change in one's appearance she had not recognized him. When she was able, they all returned to their homes a happy company. Later, Norman Arlin became her hus band, and a new life dawned for her. The Lone G'abin still stands, a memento of the past. I'reinier Gladstone. In personal appearance Mr. Gladstone i an active, lithe, muscular man, rather tall and of well-proportioned frame. His face and figure have that clear-cut contour which generally indicate several generations of intellectual activity aud personal leadei ship. Mr. Gladstone is the dccendant of a long line of Scotti h lairdmen of small wealth and limited possess.ons, but accus tomed to stand first in their community, to think and to lead. The face is scholarly, cultivated, its outlines boldly defined by that meagreness of muscle guishes the intellectual athlete. re is not an ounce of supefluous flesh on it. The thin lips and well-cut mouth and chin be token firmness, determination aud endur ance. Seventy summers have sat lightly on Mr. Gladstone, but the years have brought their blessings of rest, and his face in general wears the repose of strength and experience—strongly lined with the record of trouble and thought. A new fact, how ever, or an aggressive opinion, wakes the whole man iu the tire ff youth, and the eye flashes with eager light, aud the body bends quickly forward as if to grasp a fresh ac qieition. Like all strong Englishmen, Mr. Gladstone is a man of large ph>sical pow er and endurance, fond of out-door air and work, and the ring of his axe at Uaw arden, so familiar to England, has echoed 1 evn across the Atlantic. Moloney's Goat. A few days ago, a boy sat in the dock of the |Milice court at San Francisco, weeping bitterly. Ho was charged by bin father with disturbing the ix*aee and leading a disso lute life. His name was Moloney. His father was a contractor who, at the expense of the oily, earned an honest jmlitical liv ing. They took a newspaper, and the un fortunate boy read an incendiary item to the effect rtiat Frank Buckland, the naturalist, had discovere I that a goat was an excellent thing to keep in a stable along with horses, as it would face fire and the horses would follow it through Haines. He thought it over. He wanted to show his fHther what a thoughtful and considerate boy he was. Besides, he wanted a goat. He went down on Kinoon Hill and found one. It was a goat of Irish proclivities and ownership, and of tho male gender. Would it face fire/ It would. It wasn't expensive to keep. It hail lived for a month on shingle-nails ami oyster cans and the different ropes with which it had been tethered. Would the iim i sell him ? He would give Pius one away be cause he liked the little Ixiy's looks. And the poor, unsuspecting little boy started for Natoiua street, down First, the goat leading the boy. He felt pretty good for a goat. Whenever ahorse went by or a dog hove in sight he would get up on his hind legs aud walk Spanish, while the dogs let out for the Mission, and the children on the front piaz/.as had fits on an averageof about eight to the block. Finally he got an idea and ricoeuetied up Mission street in jumps that would have sprained the ankle of any goat hut him. The boy acted as rudder ami steered him to Natoma street, li was ufter dark. There was hay in the stable visible through the open door. The goat debated the matter aw hile and then went in. The boy said nothing about the investment to bis kind and lovirg parents. Fortunately his father was down at the grocery store ami knew nothing. Ho would come home so full ot i>liiics that he couldn't tell a goat from a six-bit umbrella unless the goal bad lime lo explain. He hoped that his father would uot go to the stable. He prayed that ho wouldn't. He had faith and confidence iu his father, but he doubled that goat The $3 clock in his bedroom struck 11, ami he knew by that that it was 12:45, and that the old man would be along shortly. He heard him coming, heard the gate slam and then, tirst trembling and then in anguish, heard his father's footsteps going towards the stable. He beaid the padlock rattle, heard the door swing open, and then he heart! a whizz, a spasmodic puff as if a small balloon had hursted, and then a skiff ling noise as the heels of his father's bonis slid along the planks and ho fell backwards iu the mud, about eight feet aad three quar ters from the door. He raised the window and looked weeping and silent upon the scene. He knew what the goat c mid do, and It was hard to heat his dear father gasp like a gold-fish us he tt|ed to inflate himself again. Finally he forced down enough wind for meagre conversational purposes. He said : "L.'iii out here'n (hie) gimme a show. Y'ee bloodi coward!" blill no response except a faint clattnr of hoots that told the listening son ihut the concealed thunderbolt wa* prancing aroi-nd on his hind legs aching for auolher Shot. "Is that you, Moloney ? I'd shpake wid you." The voice came from the bed-room window where the night cap of the boy's dear mother appeared surmouullng her kind lace a.id the top of a broomstick. "Can't c'm up. Got soincfin here (hie.) Sumtiu blowed up." "Whart is it P "Don'uo (hie.) Guessr roof fell in." "Why don't yer go an* see ? Air ye goin' ter shlape there all night, yedhruukeu ould freckle in nche ?" Braced up by the canuumbial indorse ment, the failier arose, as did also a large portion of the loose SJ.I in the yard along with him. Triangulating with some diili culiy to tue windward side of the door, he unroofed himself and peered in. No ex plosive agent was visible in the darkness, aud the spavined mare dedvered a reassur ing whinny. Mr. Moloney had prize-fought in his younger days, and it occurred to him thai it would be strategic and defiant to shv liis bat at the ambuscade. The ambuscade took in the shy but remained quiescent, save for the motion necessary to masticate it. liaTing regained his wind and some cour age, he concluded to enter. He placed him self temptingly iu the doorway, lacing out ward. No sign! He took as ep back ward. still with safety. A tmrd, and stili no trouble. Moloney struck a match, and there stood revealed a meek-looking billy-goat, largest size, copper-fronted and sweet of express ion, who, as the last two inches of hat rim disappeared down his oesophagus, promul gated a geutle "baa!" The kiud ju ge noticed that the little boy had been standing up all the time he was in the dock, though thtre were plenty of benches, and uuuerstood why he wanted to go to the Industrial Sch >ol until his lather broke his arm and his mother caught the paralysis. He told him to cheer up, how ever, and he would see alxnit his case, and the little boy wiped his nose on the sleeve of his coat and went below. Uonttou Lure- Ft'W people need reminding for what Honiton, England, is famous, as they are whirled through its delightful vulley, which so strongly impresses the traveler who here first makes acquaintance with the varied sceuery of Devon. Lace-makiug, however, is uot confined to liouitou, but extends over a large triangular district of joulhtrn Devon, from the little village of Seaton at the mouth of the Axe river aloug the coast by Beer, Bransconibe, Saleombe, bidmeuih, and Olterton to Exmouth, in cluding most of the villages between Honi tou and the sea, and especially the town of Ottery St. Mary. It even reached to Lyme Regis in Dorset, where, at the end of last century, lace was made as high as four or five guineas a yard, which rivalled Brussels in estimation; "a splendid lace dress for the late lamented Queen Char lotte was fabricated at Lyme," says its hisrorian, "which gave great satisfaction at Court." The usual type of Honiton lace consists of sprigs made separately, like Brussels lace, on a pillow, und then appli qucd, or sewn on to a net grouud. In the last century this was a plain pillow-ground made of the finest Antwerp thread, which in 1790 cost £7O per pouud, though even moie was given for it. Eighteen shilliugs a yard, scarce two inches in width, was paid for this ground. The ordinary way •f paying for veils of this fabric was (as jeweiers now weigh sovereigns against gold chains (by spreading shilliugs over them, and giving as many as covered the lace. At present the sprigs are generally sewn, as they are completed by the work-women, on blue paper, and then united by another hHiid, cilheron the pillow by "cut-works" or "purling." or else Joined with the needle by various stitches. The patterns of these sprigs are In the first place pricked with needles on a kind of ahining brown millboard knowu as "parchment paper," by women who often devote themselves exclusively to this branch of the business. Among the commonest sights of a fine sum mer evening in East Devon are the lace makera, each seated at her door, with their lace-pillows (which resemble ihiok circular pads) on their laps, and the small children around them on their little stixils, all busily occupied ic making these sprigs, whether *'' turke y-tails," "blackberries," or "stars." Similarly in winter the steady "click, eliek, chck," of their pius proceeds from every cottage, just as in a Nottinghamshire vil lage IJ heard the incessant jar and rattle of the sloe kin gers' frames The picturesque village of Beer, near the chalk headland of the same name, so famous of old for smugglers,, is now celebrated for its exquisite Hi.niton lace. Here the Queen's wedding-dress was made at a cost of £l,OOO. It is composed of llouiton sprigs connected on a pillow by a variety of open-work stitches. The Princess lioyal, Princess Alice and Princess of Wales also wore wedding-dresses of llouiton point made at Beer and the neighborhood. Capi tal workmanship in this lace was shown at the International Exhibition iu 1802, but the patterns were conventional uud clumsy, aralH'sques, n.ade lions aud poor imitations of nature. Hence may be trarted in great measure its decline iu public estimation, though its costliness must always militate against its general use. In consequence of this deficiency prizes were offered in con nection with the Bath and West of Eng land Society for natural work iu Honitou lace, which produced such admirable speci mens that the Queen ordered them to be sent to Windsor Castle for ber inspection. From very tender years children are taught to make Honitou lace in what ar termed lace schools. The little things collect iu a dame's room, and under her tuition, fre quently seconded by a cane, are taught the niy.-teries of the art. They are appren ticed to the trade in Devon at eight, nine, aud ten years of age (but iu Bucks and Beds commonly at HX years, often at four or live), earni.ig uothmg iu their first year, and sixpence per week iu the second. A Iter wards they are paid so much pei sprig, the price varying with the demand, value ot cotton, etc., but being generally 1 Jd., 2d., or 3d. per sprig, "i caa make lour turkeys' laiL a day, and get ljd. for each," a girl of ten lately told us with par d 'liable pride. A child of five year- old wi.l earn a penny in tour hours by making six "flies." One master iu the trade is said to employ as many as 8,000 of these workchiidrcn. A clever adult band will easily earn a shilling a day at lier lace-pil low in good times; in many parisof Devon, however, the work is paid for on the truck system. Tne average earnings of a quick hand may be put down at three shillings or three shillings and sixjK'iice a week. At Valenciennes the workers used to toil in underground cellar* from 4in the morn ing tilt Bat night, and scarcely earn tcn |O iceaday. Tue abuse connected with tue lace-schools were lately exposed by the Children's Employment Commission, it was touud thai the hours of work iu them were geneia ly excessive, and the atmos phere extremely bad, owing to the crowded state of the small rooms in which the children work. Discipline is rigidly en forced, and in sotuc schools, iu order that the lace may be kept clean, the children sit without shoes on brick or stone floors. These causes, coupled with the constrained position of the worker, who must bend over the pillow which rests in her lap, lay the seeds of illness and frequently of con sumption in after life. The morality amongst the lacemakers of Devon, we can testify, from personal knowledge, is large. They are thin and sallow, inclined to that bold, false independence which is ill ways engendered when women neglect the domestic virtues. The children are often defiant an i disobedient to parents, and, ou the whole, the occupation of lace making cannot lie called one favorable to morality. lie was a i'eare Officer. In Presque Isle county, toward Macki nac, is a beautiful lake—liight Grand lake —ou whose shore stands a club house owned by sundiy fish-loving citizens o! Adiian, Michigan. The couutry around is pretty much as nature made it—rough— and the few bn kwoodsbien living there are much like the country. One of them, named Crawford, was la'elv elected Justice of the Peace. A wood-chopper made com plaint that a certain raftsman had lieaten him. and asked for a wai rant for the of fender's arrest. The Justice's entire stock of leg;l blanks consisted of a summons and a subpoena. After spending: some time vainly in trying to make these papers fit the case, be got marl, flung down his papers and addressed the complainant thus: "See here, mister, this court is bound to see Justice done in this township. Y'ou pay me two dollars ami a half, costs of court, show me the man, and the Court will lick the evil out of him in two minutes.'' Com plainant paid the costs and pointed out the man. The "Court," with majesty on his brow and his sleeves rolled up, went fer the offender, aud in sixty scoouds thrashed iiim to the full content of both parties. The Court then put on his coat and re marked that "he was a peace oilicer, and wished it understood that this Court would preserve the peace, and any man who thought he ceuld raise thunder iu that neck of woods would have to try the case with the court personally." No other case has since been tried by' Squire Crawford. lie Felt a Trifle Flat. An Oregon womau threatened to cut her husband's nose off. and lie overheard the threat, and in the night he awoke and found her tying bis feet aud hands. But he didn't give himself away. He determined to stop her in the very act of committing the crime, and so feigned sleep until she had got him securely t'ed, and had got the knife all ready to do the deed, when he opened his eyes and cried: "Ah! hu-sy, I've caught you in the very act 1" But she didu't drop the kuife or seem dismayed. She asked him what he was going to do about it, and then he diiccvered that he couldn't do anything, and as she whacked the nose off he didn't feel thai he'd been so blamed smart, after all. Puw and the Sparrows. The other day a number of gentlemen were sitting In the detectives' room in the | City Hall, Clevelaud, Ohio, when an Eng lish sparrow flew near the window, peeped in ami darted away again. Captain Holz worth, who saw the little fellow, said that whenever he taw a sparrow flit it reminded him of a little scene which occurred in his 1 yard one cold day last winter. The spar i rows, it seems, ascertained the fact that theic wus a knothole in the gable of his house, and took advantage of that know ' ledge by taking possession of the hole and a portion of bis attic, where they passed the winter is snug as bugs in a rug. The cap ! tain's wife has a warm spot in her heart for | birds. So when the ground was covered with snow, aud the little fellows ran a risk of starving to death, Mrs. H. would sweep away the snow and spread upon the ground a fine repast of crumbs. The sparrows soon learned to depend upon her, and told their friends what a tine landlady they had. In consequence hundreds of then congre gated daily about the Captain's house aud partook of his charity. Close to the spot where the birds were usually fed was a pile of bricks, ami upon this pile the Captain's I cherished mouser used to station himself for the purpose of watchiug for prey. As soon as the birds woqjd get comfortably settled Hbo>jt the eruuibs the cat would l>oiuice upon them aud invariably get a tender sparrow for dinner. Finally the birds became accustomed to the cat's mode of procedure and would be on the watch whenever they were feeding. Tney were so alert that the cat would hardly get ready for a spring before they were up iu the air and out of danger. One day they were eating as usual, and the cat as usual was watchiug them. Like a bolt of lightning the mouser jumped into their midst, but they were too quick for her, aud escaped unhurt. Miss Tabby, not discouraged, mounted the pile of bricks again and await ed their return. The sparrows, after flying about for some time, dually settled upon the fence at the foot of the lot, where th -y held a long aud interesting confab. After chattering away for several minutes they cautiously returned to their crumbs aud re sumed tbeir eating, keeping all the wbile a sharp lookout for the euemy. After the cat had become satisfied that they were too much interested iu satisfying their appetite io think of her, she made another spring. The birds were up in an instant, and in stead of flying away ss usual they formed themselves into a hollow square aud charged upon the foe. Some got upon the cat's nark and scratched and picked with all their might; otherstiew right into her*ace, while the balauce made it interesting in the rear. The cat was so surprised at first that she was unable to move. The birds be came more and more infuriated and fought such a savage bfcttle that they drove the foe down the garden path on a tail gallop and under the barn. They returned to (heir least and were left to themselves the balance of the winter, thecal making herself scarce when they put in an appearance. Strange Voc-tliona. A lady-retideut of the Faubourg St. Ger main, Paris, is credited with earning a good income by hatching red, black, aud brown ants for pheasant preservers. One Parisian gets his living by breeding mag gots out of the foul meats he buys of the chiffoniers, aud latteuing them up in tin boxes. Another breeds maggots for the special behoof of nigtingales; and a third "mareband d'asticois" boast* of selling be tween thirty and forty millions of worms every season for piscatorial purposes. lie owns a great pit at Moutmartre. wherein lie keeps tiis store. Every day bi9 scouts bring him fresh stock, for which he pays them from five to ten pence per pound, ac cording to quality; reselling them to ang lers at just double those rates, and cleariug thereby over three hundred pounds a year. No wonder he professes great fondness for his "children" as he calls them; although, like other fond fathers, he is ready enough to part with them when opportunity offers. This curious vocation is not unknown in England. Some twelve years ago, we are told, Mr. Wells, a fishing-tackle maker of Nottingham, in order to ensure a constant supply of bait for bis customers, started a? farm for the rearing of lobworms.-cock spurs, ring-tailed brandlings, ami other worms in demand among the deciples of Walton, who abound in the old lace town. To keep bis farm stocked, men and boys go out at uight collecting worms in the meadows add pastures; a moist warm night yielding from two to six thousand worms. As 6oon as they are brought in they are placed in properly selected moss, field moss for choice, to scour until they become little more than skin —freshly caught worms be ing too tender for the anglers to handle; while "when a worm is properly eJucated, he is as tough as a bit of indis rubber, and behaves as a worm ehould do when put upon the hook." When this condition is attained, the worms are packed in moss, and put up in light canvass bags for the market. This worm merchant does not entirely depend upon the industry of his collectors, but breeds large quantities him self in his own garden; the component parts of his breeding-heap being a secret he not unnaturally keeps to himself. A Diplomatic Answer. The old man Smith, of Richfield, is a Belf-BufiieienY sort of an old fellow, and prides himself upon his riding abilities One clay lie espied his young hopeful lead ing a colt to water rather gingerly, and re marked : "Why on earth don't you ride" that beast ?" "I'm 'fraid to; 'fraid he'll throw me." "Bring that hoss here," snapped the old man. The colt was urged up to thq fence, and braced on one side by the boy while the old man climbed on to the rails aud stocked himself ou the colt's back. Then he was let go, and the old gentleman rude proudly off. Paralyzed by fear the colt went slow ly for about twenty rods without a demon stration. Then like lightning his four legs bunched together, his back bowed J.ke a viaduct arch aud the old man shot up in the air, turned seven separate and distinct somersaults aud lit on the small of his back in tne middle of the road, and with lioth his legs twisted around his neck. Hasten ing to him the young hopeful anxiously in quired : "Did it hurt you, pa ?" The old man rose slowly, shook out the knots in his legs, brushed the dust from his ears and hair, aud rubbing bis bruised el bows growled: "Well, it didn't do me a bit of good. You go home." A suiile** GirL . Henry Kichter and his wife were married in the old country about thirty years ago, and in succession they lost four children, each of whom came to the age of two or three years and then died of something which seemed hke inanition. They faded away, and the best medical talent in the Grand Duchy—they are Badeneat—could assign no cause for the deaths. Kichtei and his wife came to America and settled in St. Louis, where they lost two more children in the same way. Shortly before the birth of the present girl, Kichter met the Karon von Michseloffsky, who was stop ping m 8. Louis at the time, and to him he told the story of tho blight wliich had fulleu upon his family. The Baron was a member of a number of mystical societies. We believe he belonged to some lodge of ltosicrucians, which the great Liebnitz adorned; and touched by the taie that tho father had told him, he cast the horoscope of the child at the moment of its birth, carefully noting the aspects of the planets and making a chart of the future of the I tmby which at the moment was crying in ! its nurse's arms. Just wluit that horoscope was has never been told to any one but Kichter and nis wife, and the result was that they have never moved away from the houso in which they then lived and have carefully kept the girl out of the sunlight eve" since. Henry is a wealthy man and can gratify every whim which an idle fancy 1 could perceive, but he has chosen to live always in a mean neighborhoxl, surround ed by people with whom he has not a thought in common, all for the reason of preserving the daughter whom he idolizes. | A writer gained access to the lady's cham ber and had a pleasant cliat with her. Bhe evinced a strong desire to get out of doors and see a world of which she knew noth ing. The writer thus describes tbe lady: Margarctha was reclining in an easy chair before the grate, in which a rather bright . fire was burning. The room was also lighted by gas, and every detail was very apparent. There were no windows in the I room, and the furniture was of the most ; costly character, but it may easily be im- I agined the scribe had eyes for nothing and for nobody but the pale girl by tne fireside. I She looked fully her ge—nineteen—but her face was blanched and white; not a tinge of red could be made out in the cheeks, although it was evident enough in the rather full lips. Her eyes were blue almost to blackness, and her hair, which | rolled off the cushioned back of the chair I and fell in masses on the floor, was black as night. There was not a feature or ati it ! to suggest German origin in her face or lithe form, and she looked rather sweet and amiable than pretty, although her fea.ures were regular enough. She was attired in a laced and frilled white wrap, gathered about the waist by the strings of an old fashioned sontag of white wool, the only bit of color in her dress being a blue silk kerchief wrapped negligently about her throat. On the whole she resembled noth ing but a crayon picture brought to life. Sne seemed all black and white. A Boy and a Pole. Of course it is wrong to go fishing on the Sabbath day, and the clergyman of a Berk shire county church felt that it was so when he addressed his Sunday School and earnest ly exhorted the boys to refrain from such a proceeding. But there was one boy in the school who, instead of being led away from the evil by the pastor's address, merely got the idea from it of going out that very after noon, and when the reverend gentleman, who, on six days in the week, was as ready to pull a trout from tbe water as the next man, was strolliug n the meadows later in tiie day, he was pained to co ne upon that wicked small boy seated under some bushes and angling in a deep hole in a brook. He sopped and said to the confused and blush ing youth : "My boy, I'm sorry to-see that you pay so little regard to what I said this mornug." The boy had dropped his pole at being addressed, and at that instant the hnestraightened with a yank that betokened a big trout on the hook. The lad saw it, but be dared not touch the pole until the olergyman said: "You bad better take your pole and go home. Be quick, too, boy !" i'hen the youngster tried to obey, but he was a very small boy, and the fish didn't come out very easily, and the way that clergyman fretted and fumed for a minute was a caution, and then he said: "I—l— afraid—if I leave you with the pole, you'll use it again when I'm gone—go home and I'll take it home for you," and he seized the po!e and the small boy skipped away and in a minute there was a splendid three-pound trout in thee ergyman's hands, and then before he could hide the, pole and wrap tbe fish in his handkerchief to put it in his pocket, along came one of the dea to is, and the pastor had a terribly embar rassing time explaining the matter, and had to raine seven different days that he expect ed the deacon to dine with him before the latter would believe that the pastor found a boy there with the pole and fish, but that the youth ran off on the pastor's approach. Beat tne Thermometer. When the toiling, prespiring masses dis covered that the tnermouieters down town marked plump 100 degrees in the shade, they wiped off their chins and congratulated each other on having lived to see such a period. About the time that everybody was happiest, along came a small boy whose face was as red as a beet and whose eyes shone like glass. "Where's a doctor ?" he called out as he entered a crowd. "Here, boy—what's the matter ?" replied one of the men as he reached out to detain the lad. "Hull family fr >zin' to death at the house?" he explained. Dad is in the downstairs bedroom, shakin' and chatterin' and callin' on me to bring him red-hot tea and put bricks to his feet. Mam, she's up stairs, with four quilts and a carpet over her, but I heard her shiver clear down to the corner. My sister she's got her feet in the cook-stove oven, and is writing an ode to winter, and bruthcr Bill he's lyin' iu the sun on the sidewalk an' axin' everybody to leDd hitu some Kvann pepper to help start a circulation." "Is—that —so?" slowly queried a citi zen. "Course it isl Hain't I down town after a doctor an' some soft coal ? I wish some of you fellers would tell me if the Prob. report predicts a change to farmer weather." The thermometer still marked a plump hundred, but as the crowd agaia turned to the figures there seemed to be a goneness somewhere —a sort of aching void which figures couldn't tUL NO. 26.