VOL. LIV.
PROFESSIONAL CARDS OF
BELLEFONTE-
C. T. Alexander. O. M . Bower.
ATTORNEYS AT LAW.
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Office In G&rman's new bulldlug.
JOHN B. LINN,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Office on Allegheny Street.
OLEMENT DALE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Northwest corner of Diamond.
Y° CLM * HASTINGS,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
RELLKFONTE, PA.
High Street, opposite First National Bank.
M. C. HEINLE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Practices in all the courts of Centre county.
Spec al attention to Collections. Consultations
in German or English.
*^7* ILBUK F - Rkeder,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BELLEFONTE, PA.
All business promptly attended to. Collection
of claims a speciality.
J. A. Beaver. J. w. Gephart.
jgEAVEK £ GEPHART,
attorneys at law,
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Office on Alleghany Street, North of High.
A. MORRISON,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Office on Woodrlng's Block, Opposite Court
House.
S. KELLER,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Consultations In English or German. Office
In Lyon's Building, Allegheny Street.
JOHN G. LOVE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BELLEFONTE, PA.
omce in the rooms formerly occupied by tbe
late w. p. Wilson.
BUSINESS CARDS OF MILLHEIM, &.
Q A. STURGIS,
DEALER IX
Watches, Clocks. Jewelry, Silverware, Ac. Re
pairing neatly and promptly don; and war
ranted. Miln Street, opposite Bank, M.llhetm,
Pa.
O DEININGER,
NOTARY PCBLIC.
SCRIBNER AND CONVEYANCER,
MILLHELM, PA.
All business en: rusted to hlra, such as writing
and acknowledging Deeds, Mortgages, Releas* s,
Ac., will be executed wbh neatness and dis
patch. Office on Main Street.
TJ H. TOMLIXSON,
* DEALER IX
ALL KINDS OF
Groceries. Notions, Drugs. Tobaccos. Cigars,
Fine Confectloneiles and everyth ng in the line
of a flret-class Grocery st .r-*.
Country Produce taken In exchange for goods.
Main bteet, opposite bank, Ml lhehn. Pa.
I. BROWN,
MANUFACTURER AND DEALER IN
TINWARE, STOVEPIPES, Ac.,
SPOUTING A SPECIALTY.
Shop on Main Street, two houses east of Bank,
Mlilhelm, Penna.
J EISENHUTII,
* J (TSTICK OF THE PEACE,
MILLHEIM, PA.
All business promptly attended to.
collection of claims a specialty.
Office opposite Elsenhuih's Drug Store
111 USSER & SMIIH,
DEALERS IN
Hardware, Stoves, Oils, Paints, Glass, Wall
Paper-, Coach Trimmings, and Saddlery Ware,
Ac,. AC.
All grades of Patent Wheels,
corner of Main and Penn street--, Mlilhelm,
Penna.
TAC'OB WOLF,
FASHIONABLE TAILOR,
MILLHEIM, PA.
Cutting a Specialty.
Shop next door to Journal Book Store.
jyjILLHEIM BANKING CO.,
MAIN STREET,
MILLHEIM, PA.
A. WALTER, Cashier. DAV. KRAPE, Pres.
y HARTER,
AUCTIONEER,
REBERSBURG, PA.
latlifactlon Guaranteed.
®!ie pKllfeeim
IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN.
It have been ! When life is young
And hop s are bright, and hearts are ntroug
To battle with the heartless throng.
When youth aud ago are far between,
Who hears the words so sadly sung ?
it might have been !
it u.iglit have been ! When life is fair.
Youth stands beside the bouudlees sea
That ebbs and flows unceasingly.
And dreams of name and goldeu fame ;
And who shall limit the To Be
That's dawuiug there ?
It might have been. When life is bright.
And love is in its golden prime,
Youth reeks not of t 1 e coming night.
Nor dreams that there may l>e a lime
When love will fail, or change, or die
Eternally !
It might have been ! When time grows gray,
Aud spring-tide's hopes have passed away,
1)1,1 age looks back on by-gone years—
Their manv wauls and d n.bts and fears ;
And through the mist away is seen.
The might-have been !
It might have been ! Whew age so sad.
Weary of waiting for the fame
That, after all, is but a name.
When life has lost the charm it had.
True knowledge makis regret m >re keen—
It might have been !
It might have been ! When youth is dead.
And love that was so false is fled,
When all the mockeries of the past
Have lost their tinsel rags at last.
The one true love is clearly seen
That might have been !
I' might have been ! Ah me ! Ah me !
And who shall tell the misery
Of knowing all that life has lost ?
l'y thinking of the countless cost
Poor comfort cau the sad heart glean !
It might have been !
It migkt have been ! Nay. rather rest
Believing what has been is best !
The life whose sun has not yet set
Can find no room for vain regret.
And only folly crowns as queen
Its might-have-been.
The Lottery Ticket.
Painsted was in a state of excitement.
There was gossiping by the roadside and
over early tea-tables.
Innumerable voices had uttered the ex
clamations, "Do tell" and "I want to
know!'' hut all that had happened was the
quietest wedding possible.
Two people in their Sunday clothes, ac
companied by two friends also arrayed in
their best, had walked over to the church,
and there the minister hail pronounced them
man and wife.
Even at Painsted people sometimes mar
ried, and many more importantant person <
had been made one than Sally Corkindahl
and Simon Wheeler; but somehow Pain
sted was excited.
Sally Corkindahl was a young woman of
thirty, without beauty, but wonderfully neat
and industrious.
Ever since her fifteenth birthday she
had gone about from house to house mak •
ing dresses and children's clothes, known
everywhere as a good, pious young woman,
out never considered attractive.
Her work was good aud slow. In the
course of these fifteen years she had laid by
fifty pounds.
She always had a black alpaca, a clean
linen collat, and a checked apron; but
whether they were the same or were occa
sionally renewed, no one could tell.
Simon Wheeler was a very pretty young
man of four-and-twenty, with light hair
and big blue eyes.
Since he left school he had never been
known to do anything but on his Aunt
Wheeler's door step aud look at the news
paper—actually "look" at it —he never
read it.
As soon as it arrived he would seize
upon it. turn to a special corner and look
at it.
W hat he stared at, though this was
known only to himself, was a small adver
tisement which occupied the same position
in that particular paper from one year's end
to the other, and which was headed:
"Great Gumbo Lottery! Capital Prize,
Fifty Thousand Pounds. Tickets, one
pound each."
When the day of the drawing came, and
a little list of numbers was to he seen be
low this advertisement Simon looked long
er aud was often observed to sigh.
Not however, tiecause he had invested
his money in tickets and lost, but because
he had none to invest. Aunt Wheeler was
not too generous.
"I'll keep you till you can keep your
self," she oftwn said, "hut I shan't have my
money wasted on cigars and wine. You're
belter off without none."
Simon neither desired wine or cigars,
nor any other luxury of dissipated youth;
but if he could have had the price of a lot
tery ticket without working for it, he
would have rejoiced.
In his early boyhood he had dreamed
that he had drawn a lucky number. He
believed in dreams —that dream in particu
lar.
It had the effect upon him that having
his name in a will has upon many a young
man.
He saw no need of learning a trade, of
going into a shop or setting himself to earn
his bread anywhere or in any manner.
With his first pound he would buy a lot
tery ticket, draw the fifty thousand prize,
reimburse his aunt for all that she had ex
pended upon him, be very jolly and gener
ous to everybody, and "live luxuriously
every day," like the town mouse in the
able.
One afternoon as he sauntered in, sleepy
eyed and dreamy, he found Sally Corkin
dahl at the tea-table.
She had been sewing for his aunt all the
afternoon.
Meanwhile he also had been very busy.
He had found an imaginary pound,
bought a tieket, drawn the prize, and be
stowed upon his aunt a little carriage, two
cream-colored horses and a black silk
dress.
Her delight over the unexpected present
and wonderful news had kept him from
opening the canned fruit as he had promis
ed to do.
Mrs. Wheeler, who knew nothing of
this fine waking dream, desired to scold
him.
However, Sally's presence prevented her
rem doing so. She contented herself with
M 11.1,11 KIM. PA., THURSDAY, AUGUST 26, 1880.
u talk at him over the dress-maker's shoul
der.
Slit: praised the girl's Industry, her pru
dence, her economy.
"That's the way to get on,'' she said—
j "that's the spirit I like. Independent from
the time you lost your parents, and mak
ing little savings all the while. Don't say,
"only titty pounds." Every little makes
a uickcl, I've heard my grandmother say.
Many a one that has earned double your
money hasn't saved a penny."
Simon listened.
"Fifty pounds!*' said he to himself.
"Why don't she buy a lottery tieket, draw
a prize, and stop sewing? I would."
He looked earnestly at Sally. The color
I came into her thin cheeks.
She was not often the object of such in
! tent regard.
Could it he that this voting man admired
' her 1
Sally Corkindahl felt sure that this was
so when Simon offered to see her home that
! evening.
That was the beginning of it.
The end was that wedding which had
awakened sueli astonishment at Painsted.
The wonder that industrious Sally Cork
indahl had married such an idle fellow,
who certainly could not take care of her, was
only matched by the wonder that hand
some Simon Wheeler had married that
plain, utterly unattractive Sally Corkin
dahl.
.Mrs. Wheeler resented it highly.
"Since you've chosen a common seam
tress, and married tier without a hint to
me, you can take care of her," she said:
"1 won't,"
So Simon hud sauntered over to the one
room which Saliy hired, with his portman
teau in one hand aud an umbrella in the
other; ami Sally still went out to work,
while Simon sat at the window and looked
at his paper.
He had told her he expected to come
iuto a fortune, aud she received his state
ment with the credulity of love, and was
content to pinch and toil in the meantime.
She had placed her savings lxok in his
hands.
All she had was his by the laws of her
love, aud before their wedding-day was
over Simon had bought his first ticket.
It was that that made his heart boat so
wildly, not the touch of her honest hand
upon his own as she met him in the gloam
ing; but he said to himself. "There
shan't be any more drudgery for Sally
when 1 draw the capital prize."
There are twelve months in the year ;
each month the great Gumbo Lottery had
a drawing—each mouth Simon Wheeler
bought a ticket and drew a blank.
Sally knew nothing of it.
The anniversary of their wedding came.
On that day Simon bought two tickets, and
in due course of time drew two blanks.
lie was always kind to his wife, forever
talked of his expectations, and praised her
industry: forever looked at the paper, and
made little sums in lead pencil on Sally's
pine table.
At the end of two years Sally began to
feel a little anxious, at the end of three a
little weary, at the end of four alarmed.
Forty-eight months had passed by, forty
eight drawings had been made by the
Gumbo Lottery, and forty-eight blanks had
been drawn by Simon.
One day he made his purchase with trep
idation, and returned home trembling; he
had spent the last pound of his poor wife's
hoard!
He had bought his fiftieth ticket in the
Gumbo, and for the first time his heart
failed him; he had always expected a
prize before, now he only looked for a
blank.
He went into his small room. Sally sat
at her table sewing. She looked up at
Simon as he entered, and her eyes tilled
with tears.
"Husband," she said, "I've got to ask
you about the bank book. I hoped to
leave the money lie and then add to it.
You've got it safe, I suppose."
"Y eß, the book is safe," said Simon,
wi.h a dreary oppression.
"I'd like to see it, if you don't mind,"
said poor Sally. "It seems as if it would
be a sort of comfort."
Simon took the book from his pocket
and handed it to her.
She opeued it and glanced at it.
Then her face flushed and she began to
cry.
"Don't!" said Simon. "Don't, Sally!
—don't cry. I meant it for the best."
"If you needed it, you were welcome.
It belonged to you as much as to me," said
Sally; "hut you might have mentioned it.
I'd have been prepared."
"1 was so sure," said Simon. "So
sure."
"So sure of what ?" asked Sally.
"Of the fifty thousand pounds," said
Simon; "I expected it long ago."
"You've never told me what you expect
ed it from," said Sally. "Do you ever
think it will he left you ? Was it your
father's money ? If you'd tell me 1 could
think it over. What was it ? You wouldn't
deceive me, and you are not crazy; hut I
can't think what you mean by' expecting
fifty thousand pounds. And, oh, I am so
worried, Simon!"
"Perhaps it may come yet, Sally," said
Simon.
He took his handkerchief from his
pocket as he spoke and wiped liis wife's
eyes with it.
As lie did so a bit of yellow paper fell
into her lap—the last Gumbo Lottery ticket,
bought but an hour before.
She caught at it and her face flushed
again. She looked at her husband with
the gleam of anger in her tyes, and cried
out, sharply :
"Is this it? Is this the secret—the for
tune you've talked of? Are you crazy en
ough for this? Have you been buying
tickets in that cheating lottery all these
years, and is my last pound, that I see you
have drawn from the hank to-day, spent
for that thing?"
Poor Simon! He stared at his wife for
a long time without answering; then he
said, slowly:
"Think of it—forty-nine blanks, and
every time I expected a prize—the capital
prize. Think of my disappointment!"
"I can't think of anything except tliat
I've married a fool," said Sally. "I could
kill myself when I think, of it. I believe
you married me to get that fifty pounds to
ga nble with."
Then she began to cry.
"Yes, I've been a fool," he said ; "but
though the money made me think of asking
you to have me, I meant to make you rich.
I did, Sally; I vow I did. We've got
along very well, haven't we? I think a
great deal of you. I meant to do every
thing for you; but it's all over now. I
look at that tieket, and 1 know it's a blank.
1 should never buy another —never, never !
You see, that dream —1 told you once of
my dream-—appeared as if it must come
true; hut my luck is had, I see that "
"Luck!" cried Sally, stung by rusent
-1 incut. "Luck ! Oh, get out of my sight!
Pick up that ticket that you've spent my
last hard-earned pound on. and go where I
can't see you for a little while, do!"
"I'm going, Sally!" said Simon.
He stepped towards her as he spoke. He
would have kissed Iter if she had permit
ted him to do so.
Then he picked up the yellow tieket,
read the number aloud—9Bßll—crammed
it into his pocket, and sauntered away.
At six o'clock that evening there was a
little crowd beside the mill dam.
It was fast increasing, for a body had
been taken out of the water with a pocket
handkerchief full of stones about the neck;
Simon Wlieeler'-s body.
He had drowned himself in less than
half ail hour after he had walked so leis
urely away from his injured Sally's pres
ence.
They found in his pocket au empty
purse, a little list of numbers, and a yellow
ticket soaked through, but still hearing on
its surface the figures 9889.
Sally would have known what it was hut
she never saw it, or the dead face that
looked into its marble whiteness like some
beautiful statue, for she lay upon her pil
low as white as he, with tier little baby on
her bosom; and the three were buried to
gether in the little churchyard at I'aiu
sted.
On the day of the funeral there was a
drawing of the Gumbo Lottery.
The manager of the euterprise shouted
the numbers of the capital prize; 9889 was
not among them. Its holder was not en
titled to fifty thousand pounds.
Rut it made uo difference. Simon
Wheeler lay beside his wife unconscious
of the draw ing, and the yellow ticket had
long ago resolved itself into a yellow sop
among the sedgy grasses by the mill-pond.
Ruining a Weaver
Jojee wa* a tramp, ami hungry. Hap
pening to pass one day in a village where
the women were wailing, he noticed the
preparation for a funeral. lu hopes of get
ting something to eat. Jojee said to the
relatives; "Would tliou have'the dead re
stored to life?" Then all the relatives said,
"Yes, that would we."
"Place me," said Jojee the tramp, "in
the room next to the dead man. Bring me
good cheer, so that I.may propitiate the
reanimating angels. Most especially put
there a pot of the finest honey, three loaves
of the whitest bread and a tlapk of the pur
est oil.
That the relatives did. | Jojee, the
tramp, hid them retire. the tramp,
then eat until his appetite was satisfied.
Then he uttered many shrieks and howls.
The relatives waited long and patiently.
At length Jojee called in the people.
"Tell roe," asked Jojee ''what was the
exact calling of the deceased?"
"A weaver was he by trade," the rela
tives replied.
"A weaver," cried Jojee, the tramp.
"Why did you not tell me so ? There is
honey, bread and oil wasted. Had he been
a tinker, a tailor, or a cobbler I might
have brought the dead man to life—hut a
weaver! I never could do anything with a
weaver!"
She did not care to discuss the poiut
with the ignorant fellow, so. to conceal her
emotions, she once more let herself out on
the piauo. The woods were filled with
music. The mocking bird wl/istled as if
his throat would split, the cuckoo filled the
sylvan bowers with his repeated cry, while
ever and anon the mournful cooing of
the dove internipted the matin song of the
lark.
"There, now, I guess you know what
that sounds like,'' she said, as she paused.
"You mean that tootle, tootle, tootle,
chug, chug?' You just bet I understand
that. Many a time at a pirn c I've heard
it from the mouth of a demijohn or the
buughole of a beer keg."
Her first impulse was to lmrl the piano
stool at him, hut it passed off, and once
more she went at the piano as if it was the
young man's head and was insured for
double its value. The thunder growled,
the light inng flashed (from her eyes), and
the first 1 eavy drops are heard upon the
leaves. She banged and mauled the keys
at a fearful rate; peal after peal of deafen
ing thunder perturbed the atmosphere and
re-echoed in still louder reverberations until
it wound up in one appalling clap as a
grand finale. Then, turning to the awe
struck youth, she said —
"I suppose you have heard something
like that before?"
"Yes, that's what the fellow with linen
pants said when he sat on the custard
pie."
The audience found himself alone, hut
h picked up his hat and sauntered out into
the street, densely unconscious that he had
said anything out of the way.
A Sole-Stirring Incident.
It is a sentimental custom for young men
to write their names, and something soft,
on the soles of the girl's shoes. \ou con.e
across couples in the angles of hallways, in
the corners of verandas, and on the beach,
filling out these novel autograph albums.
The girl grasps something—sometimes the
young man's shoulder —to steady herself,
and coyly holds her foot bottom upward,
while he squats and tickles her sole with
the point of her pencil. This is not only
pleasing to the pair, hut makes great sport
for the spectators.
The writing wears off in an evening's
dancing, and the shoe is then ready for the
next fellow. The custom is encouraged
by girls with little feet. One who was not
so fortunate stood in a Howland House
corrider, Long Branch, gracefully posed
against the wall, with the spacious bottom
of her shoe spread out before an enamored
swain, who had his pencil thoughtfully
suspended. Her hardened brother came
along.
"Put on the Declaration of Independ
ence," lie said; "there's room for it, with
all the signatures."
The girl took ber foot away immediate
ly, because she wanted to stamp with it.
Wash for the Hands.—- Four ounces
pulverized borax, four ounces each of
saleratus and muriate of ammonia; put
into a tin pan and pour in four quarts
of hot soft water; stir until well mixed,
bottle for use; after washing the hands
and face, wet wilh the above.
That Deceiving Hummock.
"I've been a fool!" growled Harper as
ho untied a parcel in his front yard and
shook out u new hammock. "Here I've
been lopping around all through this infer
nal hot sjh'll when 1 might just as well
been swinging in a hammock and had my
blistered hack cixiled off by the breezes.
Any one can put up a hammock. All
you've got to do is to untie alxmt 500
knots, unravel about 51 Ml snarls, aud work
oyer the thing until you can tell whether the
open side was meant to go up ai down.
This puzzled Harper for full twenty min
utes, hut he finally got it right and
fastened the ends to two convenient
trees.
Then he took off his hat and coat and rolled
in with a great sigh of relief. No he didn't
quite roll in. He was all ready to when
the hammock walked away from him, and
he rolled over on the grass and came to a
stop with a croquet hall under the small of
his hack.
"Did you mean to do that!" called a
sniall hoy who was looking over the fence
slowly chewing away on green apples,
"I)iil 1? Of course I did! Git downofiTn
that fence or I'll call a policeman!"
The boy slid down and Harper brought
up a lawn chair for the next move, it's
the easiest thing in the world to drop off a
chair into a hammock. L.its of men would
he willing to do it on a salary of ten dollars
per week. The trouble with Harper was
thut lie didn't drop all of his Ixnly at once.
The upper half got into the hammock all
right, hut the lower half kicsed and
thrashed around on the grass until the
sniall lx>y, who didn't mean to leave the
neighborhood until the show was out felt
called ujxm to exclaim.
"You can't turn a handspring with your
head all wound up in that there ere net,
and I'll bet money on it!"
Harper suddenly rested from his labors
to rise up and shake his fist at the young
villain, hut that didn't help the case a hit. j
He carefully looked the case over, aud de- j
cided that he had his plans too high. He
therefore lowered the net within two feet
of the ground, and lie had it dead sure.
He fell into it as plump as a hag of shot
going down a well, lie felt around to see if
he was all in, aud then gavehimsel a swing.
No person can lie happy in a hammock un
less the hammock lias a pendulum motion.
This hammock of Harper's was just get
ting the regular salt-water swing when his
knots untied and he came down on the
broad of his hack with such a jar that the
small hoy felt called upon to obseerve:
"That ain't uo way to level a lawn—
ou want to use a regular roller!"
After consciousness he crawled slowly
out, gently rubbed his hack on an apple
tree, and slowly disappeared around the
corner of the house in search of some
weapon which would annihilate the ham
mock at one sweep, and though the hoy
called upon him again and again, asking
if a minstrel performance was to follow
the regular show, Mr. Harper never turned
his head nor made a sign.
Protection of Woodurork,
It is well kuwwn that the sap of wood j
contains substances like albumen, gelatine, I
gum, etc., which easily undergo decomposi- j
tion, and under certain circumstances, such
its favor fermentation, and in warm damp
air, are able to destroy very rapidly the
stronger woody fibers. The more sap
there is in the wood, that is
to say the greener it is, and the
sooner the evaporation of this sap is stopped
by an airtight cover, the quicker the fcr- j
mentation will set in, and with it the decay
of the woody filler. These circumstances !
are correctly understood by practical men,
who prescribe that the timber be felled in
winter, and try to obtain a free circulation
of air through the structure. They think
they avoid the disadvantages above men- i
tioned if they, further, demand "seasoned j
wood," because it is clear that there is less |
danger of decomposition in such wood
than in fresh or green stuff. But here we ;
at once stumble on this difficulty, namely,
of determining what degree dryness in the
wood to he tested seems most advantage
ous for its use, and the time required for
this is much longer than is generally sup
posed. The appearance of the wood is
very seldom a reliable guide, aud people
are accustomed to think that the wood is
much drier than it really is. The compar
atively important changes which the wood
undergoes during the first year from
shrinkage enables us to measure approxi
mately the time necessary to destroy the
last evil effects of its interior life. Not un
til it has reached this stage, which requires
four to six years, unless artificial seasoning
is resorted to, is the timber benefited by
covering it with a protecting coat of paint.
At this time the paint must have a benefi
cial effect in protecting the wood, for it
prevents atmospheric moisture penetrating
ing mio the wood to serve as a reagent to
decompose the albumen, which is now
dried and coagulated as well as less abun
dant. Owing to the position of the lum
ber yards and the urgency for materials to
build with it is seldom possible to obtain
well seasoned lumber and wood. Sauer
wein, therefore, proposes the following
process: The most rational and sensible
process for large, heavy timbers is the im
pregnation, as for railroad ties, with chlo
ride of zinc under six to eight atmospheres
of pressure, where this can he done.
(Fresh green wood is best for this.) No
arguments are necessary in defense of the
value of this method; it cannot be too
strongly recommended, nor i 3 the expense
great —about $1 per cubic meter. When
there is no opportunity for impregnation
the woodwork should be left two or four
years unpainted. In my experience, says
Sauerwein, wood tar is better than coal
tar, because it penetrates in the wood more
easily, and, containing a larger amount of
antiseptic substances, its effect is more per
manent. Although wood tar is considera
bly dearer it is to he preferred. Its color
being somewhat similar to wood color, it
can he used on small unimportant buildings.
Its cost is only one-fourth that of oil paint
aud can he applied by a common workman.
Planed and worked surfaces should he
merely oiled (three times) not painted.
Besides having a better appearance, this
oil varnish is necessary to* prevent crack
ing and drawing of thin parts like doors
and windows. It does not interfere with
the gradual drying out of the wood. After
the expiration of three to five years the oil
ing may bo replaced by a protecting coat
of paint to prevent water from penetrating
into the wood work. It should be added
that it seems advantageous to mix about
one part of elutriated chalk with three
parts of the white lead which is used with
the special color for all oil paints. This
seems to make the paint adhere better to
the wood, as shown by experience. With
out going into the subject of oil paints the
author cautions the public against the
many new fangled and highly extolled
paints and substitutes. They are gener
ally much dearer, he says, and at liest are
only equal to ordinary linseed oil paint
made witli equal care from well selected
pure material. The chief effect of a good
oil paint depends on the purity of the ma
terials used, especially of the oil and white
lead or zinc white, whether it is finely
ground and thoroughly mixed, and the
i paint carefully upplied in good weather.
liuliiin* and Firework*.
The Indian has a hard time of it, alto
gether. An Idaho mining camp intending
to celebrate the Glorious Fourth in hang up
style, ordered a heap of fireworks to be sent
to theiiL A whole wagon load went on,
and while on its way was captured one
night by a band of Indians. They didn't
exactly know what kind of property they
liad got hold of, and proceeded to investi
gate. The chief thought the cannon crack
ers were cigars and the iittle ones cigarettes,
which article he had seen in use at the var
ious camps he had visited, and he distri
buted a lot around, and they all lighted up
for a sni'>ke, anil pretty soon amore surpris
ed and puzzled set of Indians never got to
gether. The chief had a cannon cracker,
and after the explosion it was three min
utes before lie could get breath enough to
yell, and then the wild shrieks he gave
could be heard tive miles away. That
ended tbe smoking. Another buck fell off
the top of the wagon with a box of giant
torped >es, and the crash that greeted him
as lie alighted scared him so that he got up
and ran off at breakneck speed. A squaw
contrived to get a pin wheel afire, and as
she dropped it on the ground the natural
tendency of the thing to whirl around
made it go kiting along the ground like a
wheel of fire, sending out a shower of
sparks and ctusing the affrighted lady to
scud away from it, with her eyes as big as
saucers, with terror. The pin-wheel got
under the wagon and ignited it, and the
Indian at first tried to extinguished the
ilames, and pretty soon a Roman candle
went off, ami before the man who was hit
by the first hall on the nose could clap his
hand OH the injured member, another hall
caromed there and then a third, and then
the rockets began to go off and hit the bucks
in the legs and ribs, and tbe different col
ored fires threw first a red and then a blue
light uj>on the scene, and the "mines"
blew up and tilled the air with hissing ser
pents and other things horrid to behold,
and more pin-wheels got loose, and when
a buck jumped to avoid a pin-wheel begot
in the air just in time to he hit by a rock
et, and almost everybody trot more or less
burned, and in about five minutes a crowd
of the worst scared and most frantic In
dians the world ever saw was scurrying off
in the darkness across the prairie liellowing
with pain and fear. And the next load of
fireworks sent through that region won't
he meddled with by those Indians.
Something out of the Way.
A young lady in the most exalted socia
circles of Galveston, after much toil and
practice at the piano, learned to play with
considerable dexterity a piece entitled
"Picnic Polka." It is something after the
style of the celebrated "Battle of Prague,"
in which the listener can readily distinguish
the roar of the artillery, tbe rattle of mus
ketry, the shouts of the soldiers, and the
groans of the dying. In the "Picnic Polka"
the noise of the wind among the trees aud
the joyous carols of the birds are repro
duced, the final being a thunder shower
which disturbs the sylvan revellers. It
happened that a country cousin was in
town, and the young lady thought she
would play the piece to him and hear his
comment. He was a plain simple-minded
youth, and although not very bright, was
very appreciative. She told what the piece
was and then preceded to give him
the "Picnic Polka" The first notes are
rather slow and hesitating, the idea sought
to lie conveyed being the solemn solitude
of forest through which the gentle zephy
(not heifer) sighs. After she got through
with ttiis preface, she asked him if he did
not almost imagine himself in a lodge in
some vast wildernes. He replied that lie
thought all that slowness meant the delay
in getting off. Said he. "There is al
ways some dammed cusi who oversleeps
himself and keeps everbody else waiting."
A Western W Itnesa.
Conductor Heatonis one of the best boys
on the Kansas City, St. Joseph & Council
Blufls Road, and is also one of the sharp
est. It is not very often a man gets ahead
of him as Pat-Powers, of Holt county, has
probably fonnd out. Heaton was at Oregon
a few days siuce on some trial connected
with the railroad company. Powers is an
attorney, was cross examining Heaton and
asked him if he would not naturally testify
in faver of the railroad company.
"No," replied Heaton.
"You would testify for the railroad
rather than lwsc your position, wouldn't
you ? H
"No," said Heaton.
"You'd like to be an angel, wouldn't
you?" sneered Powers.
"No."
"Why not ?"
"Because," was the ready answer. "I'm
afraid the Lord would set me up as a guardian
angel over some red headed lawyer from
Holt county and 1 couldn't stand that."
A Miracle ot Honesty.
At a party one evening several contested
the honor of having done the most extra
ordinary thing; a reverend gentleman was
appointed judge of their respective preten
tious. One produced his tailor s bill with
a receipt attached to it. A buzz in the
room that this could not be outdone; when
a second proved that he had just arrested
his tailor for money lent him.
"The palm is his," was a general cry,
when a third put in his claim.
"Geytlemen," said he, "I cannot boast
of the acts of my predecessors, for I have
just returned to the owners three lead pen
cils and two umbrellas that were left at my
house."
"I'll hear no more," cried the astonished
arbitrator. "This is the very acme of
honesty, it is an act of virtue of which I
never knew any one capable. The
prize—"
"Hold," cried another, "I have done
still more than that."
"I have been taking my paper for
twenty years and always paid for it in ad
vance."
■ He took the prize.
Fear of Lightnlof.
Reason and study of the laws of lightning
have done much to lessen the fear of it. It
is true we live between two magazines of
electricity—one in the earth and the other
in the air—and a cloud charged with elect
ricity passing over a point or body in a
negative condition will discharge its sur
plus by the very quickest and most con
genial medium, which it finds in the human
body, a tree or house indifferently. Rut it
is also true that, provide the lightning with
a convenient and easy conductor in the
shape of a stout iron rod higher than any
point of a house, and reaching well into
the ground, where electricty may scatter
harmlessly into the damp earth, it will pre
fer that conducting rod to anything in its
vicinity, and people who stay indoors in a
well-protected ho us# are safer from light
ning than any bomb proof from bursting
shells. Every accident from this cause we
ever knew of came from careless exposure
in situations known to lie unsafe. The first
1 noticed after my own accident was that
of a missionary's daughter who was killed
while passing an open window just as a
woman was on I>ong Islaud last summer,
while silting at her sewing-mat liine. A
young man in Maiden we think, was killed
while sitting on a porch with his chair tip
ped back and his head against the knob of
a door-oell-wire. Many men have been
struck while riding into a barn on a load of
hay. Many will remember the frightful
calamity at Scran ton, Penn., where a party
of women, out picking berries on one of
the high hills, crowded into a deserted log
hut in a sudden storm, and seven were kill
ed by one bolt. Steep hills with mineral
veins cropiug out are not places for persons
to live on.who wish to escapelightmng.aid
unprotected houses there are doubly dan
gerous.
It is never too soon to go in the house
when a storm is rising. When the clouds
are fully charged with eleetrictv they are
most dangerous, and the fluid obeys a sub
tle attraction which acts at great distances
and in all directions. A woman told us of
a bolt which came down her mother's chim
ney from a rising cloud when the sun was
shining overhead. N. F. Willis writes of
a young girl who was killed while passing
under a telegraph wire, on the brow of a
hill, while she was hurrying home before a
storm. The sad accident at Morrisania,
when two children were killed, shou'd
wain every mother that it is not safe to let
children stay out of doors till the last min
ute before the storm falls. People should
not be fool-hardy about sitting on porches
or by open windows, whether the storm is
hard or not. Mild showers often carry a
single charge, which falls with deadly
effect. It may or may not be fatal to stay
out; it is safe to be in the house, with the
windows and doors closed. The dry air iu
a house is a readier conductor than the
damp air outside, and any draught of air
invites it. A hoi fire in a chimney attracts
it, so to speak, and it is prudent for those
who would be sure of safety to use kerosene
or gas stoves in summer and avoid heating
the chimneys of the houses.
Romance of a Postal Oarl.
A postal card, was purchased in New
York, on November 29, 1879, decorated
with two one cent stamps, suitably inscrib
ed and addressed to London, England. By
some mischance it failed to secure accom
modations in the mail bags which left ou
the steamer of that date, and its voyage
was delayed until the departure of the next
mail steamer, It arrived at its destination
on Dec. 13, just fifteen days from the time
it was deposited in the New York Post
Office. From London it journeyed to Mar
seilles, France, arriving there on Dec. 17,
showing no sighs of sea sickness or fatigue.
Oa Dec. 25, it was manipulated by the
officials of Cairo, Egypt, who wished it a
merry Christmas and a "God speed" on its
voyage, to Bombay, India, where it landed
on Jan. 15, 1880. On Feb. 2, the almond
eyed Celestial who rules the destiny of the
Post Office at Singapore. China, gave it a
ticket of leave in well known laundry
hieroglyphics, aud allowed it to depart the
empire for Yokohama, Japan, where it was
received March 9. Becoming homesick at
this point, the plucky postal card embark
ed on an American bouud vessel, and on
March 20, it reached San Francisco. Al
though it had traveled over nearly as much
territory as ex-President Grant, its arrival
was sigualized by no demonstration from
Dennis Kearney's fellow townsmen. It was
met at the wharf by the officials of the
Mail Department—the drivers of the wag
ous—and quietly conveyed to the Post
Office, where it was tendered a reception
by the distributing clerks, and quietly es
corted to a train en route for New York.
On April 3, it took up permaneut quarters
with Mr. Rogers in New York, the city
where it first saw the light. It bears its
honors meekly aud refuses, courteously but
firmly, to be interviewed. The time con
sumed in this noteworthy journey was as
f tllows: Starting from New York the
voj age ,o London consumed fifteen days to
Marseilles, niueteen days; to Cairo, twenty
seven days; to Bombay, forty-eight days; to
San Francisco, 119 days; to New York, af
ter a voyage around the world, 127 days.
Whipping Children.
A parent who don't know how to govern
a child without whipping it, ought to sur
render the care of that child to some wiser
person. Sportsmen once thought it was
necessary to lash their dogs in training
them for the field. They now know that
the whip should never be used. Horsemen
once thought it was necessary to whip colts
to teach them to start or stop at the word,
and to pull steadily. They now know that
an apple is b&iHLthan the lash, and that
a caress is better than a blow. If dog and
horses can be thus educated without pun
ishment, what is there in our children
which makes it necessary to slap and pound
them ? Have they less intelligence ? Have
they colder hearts ? Are they lower in the
scale of being ? We have heard many old
people say: If we were to bring up another
child we would never whip it. They are
wise, but a little too late. Instead of God
doing so little for children that they must
be whipped into goodness, he lias done so
much for them that even whipping can't
rule them —that is, as a rule. But, alas I
there are many exceptions to the rule,
many children are of such quality that a
blow makes them cowardly, or reckless, or
permanently ugly. Whipping makes child
ren lie, makes them hate their parents,
makes home distasteful, makes boys run
away, and makes the girls seek happiness
anywhere and anyhow. Whipping is Lai'*
1 barous. Don't whip.
NO. 34.