VOL. LIV.
PROFESSIONAL CARDS OF
BELT jEF O N T E
C. T. Alexander. C. M. bower.
A LEXANDER A BOWER,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW.
BKLLEFONTK, PA.
OlSce to Uarman's new building.
JOHN B. LINN,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BKLLEFONTK, PA.
Offlce on Allegheny Street.
OLKMENT DALE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BKLLEFONTK, PA.
Northwest corner of Diamond.
Y° cIM & HASTINGS,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
BKLLEFONTK, PA.
High Street, opposite First National Hank.
C - HEINLE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BKLLgTONTX. PA.
Practices in all the courts of Centre County.
Special attention to CoUections. Consultations
in German or English.
ILBUR F. REEDER,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BKLLEFONTK, PA.
All business promptly attended to. collection
of claims a speciality.
J. A. Beaver. J. w. Geph&rt.
JJEAVER A GEPHART, •
ATTORNEYS AT LAW.
BKLLEFONTK, PA.
Offlce on Alleghany Street, North of High.
A. MORRISON,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BKLLEFONTK, PA.
Offlce on Woodrlng*s Block, Opposite Court
House.
S. KELLER,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BKLLEFONTK, PA.
Consultations in English or German. Offlce
in Lyon's Building, Allegheny Street.
JOHN G. LOVE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BKLLEFONTK, PA.
Offlce in the rooms formerly occupied by the
late w. P. Wilson.
BUSINESS CARDS OF MILLHEIM, &.
A. STURGIS,
* ' DEALER IN
Watches, Clocks. Jewelry, Silverware, Ac. Re
pairing neatly and promptly done and war
ranted. Main Street, opposite Bank, M llhelm,
Pa.
A O. DEININGER,
NOTARY FTBIJC.
SCRIBNKR AND CONVEYANCER,
MILLHEIM, PA.
All business entrusted to htm, such as writing
and acknowledging Deeds. Mortgages, Releas> s,
Ac., will be executed with neatness and dis
patch. Offlce on Main Street.
TT H. TOM LIN SON,
DEALER IN
ALL KINDS OF
Groceries, Notions, Drugs, Tobaccos, Cigars,
Fine Confectioneries and everything in the line
of a flret-class Grocery store.
Country Produce taken In exchange for goods.
Main Stieet, opposite Bank, MlUhelm. Pa.
JJAVID I. BROWN,
MANUFACTURER AND DEALER IN
TINWARE, STOVEPIPES, Ac.,
SPOUTING A SPECIALTY.
Shop on Main Btreet, two h uses east of Bank,
Mlllhelm, Penna.
J EJSENHUTH,
JUSTICE OF THE PEACE,
MILLHEIM, PA.
All business promptly attended to.
collection of claims a specialty.
Offlce opposite Elsenhuth's Drug btore.
X| USSER & SMITH,
DEALERS IN
Hardware. Stoves, Oils, Paints, Glass, Wa
Paper-, coach Trimmings, and Saddlery Ware,
Ac,. Ac.
All grades of Patent Wheels.
Corner of Main and Penn Streets, Mlllhelm.
Penna.
I ACOB WOLF,
FASHIONABLE TAILOR.
MILLHEIM, PA.
Cutting a Specialty.
Shop next door to Journal Book Store. .
jyjILLHEIM BANKING CO.,
MAIM STREET,
MILLHEIM, PA.
A. WALTER, Cashier. DAV. KRAPE, Pres.
HARTER,
AUCTIONEER,
RKBERSBURG, PA.
iatUfactlon Guaranteed,
MY OLD FRIEND.
You've H manner all o mellow,
My old friend.
That it cbeera and a arms a fellow,
My old friend,
Just to meet and greet von. and
Keel tlie preeeure of a hand
That one may uuderetaud.
My old friend!
Though dimmed in youthful splendor,
My old friend.
Your smiles are still as tender,
My old friend;
And your eyes as true a blue
As your childhood ever fcuew.
And your laugh as merry, too,
My old frieud.
For though your hair is faded.
My old friend.
For j our body bent and jaded.
My old fraud,
Old Time, with all his lures
lu the trophies he secures.
Loaves vouug that heart of yours.
My old friend.
And so it is you cheer me.
My old friend ;
And to kuow you still so near me.
My old friend.
Makes my hopes of clearer light,
And my faith of surer sight.
And mv soul a purer white.
My old friend.
Bachelor's Luck.
"Who is living in Swan's house I 1 see
it is occupied," said Mr. Tartuffe to his
servant.
"A Mr. Ernest Simpson, and his wife
and mother. He is just married,l beiieve,"
was the reply.
"Strange," he muttered, "that I should
come home to find them here', oi all places
in the world. I knew this morning that
the young fellow mu-t be in some way
conueeted wiih Ernest Simpson. The like
ness is unmistakable. There comes a wo
man now. 1 wonder if it can l>e his moth
er?"
A large woman with a fresh-colored face
and with a bundle on her arm entered the
gate and hurried up the walk with the air
of one very much at home.
"Yes, it must be she; yet who could
have believed that Sophie Martyn would
become such a great, blowsy creature ?
Twenty-five years work great changes"
The fact was, it was Mrs, Simpson's
dsess; but how was Mr Tartuffe to know
that? For five years he had been travel
ing after a fashion of his own. Five years
had wrought great changes. Of his old
friends aud associates some were dead,
others moved away, aud the rest were so
immersed in business, so interested in ti.eir
own particular pursuits,that they had little
time or thought to spare for him.
* • 'Tis like coming back from the dead to
find dne's place filled and one's self forgot
ten," he said sadly. And now to all the
rest was added the unewelcome discovery
that the wife and son of Ernest Simpson,
the man who had done him a cruel wrong
and marred his life, were living next door
to liiui. Some time he stood at the window
drumming softly upon the pane and look
ing idly out; suddenly his face lighted
up.
"That's an idea; I'll doit. Forsyth will
jump at the chance, I've no doubt."
Whatever the idea was, he immediately
proceeded to put it into execution, A few
miuues later he left the house and took Jus
way down town.
"Why, good moring, Tartuffe. Glad to
see you; sit down; I'll be at leisure in a few
minutes."
When the busy lawyer was at last able
te pay some attention to his visitors, Mr.
Tartuffe began without preliminary:
"Forsyth, I have been thinking over what
yon said yesterday, a d have a proposition
to make. Suppose we make an exchange."
"Make an exchange ?" repeated the puz
zled lawyer.
"Yes; you can take my house and I take
yours, for a year. Your family are desir
ous of coming to town, and I want to leave
it. Take the house as they stand. It will
save the bother of my moving."
"Welt," mused Mr. Forsyth, "that's an
idea, certainly,and it strikes me favorably,
but I must consult my wifes first, of couise
Why d J you wish to leave towu, though ?
you've just got here. You ought to get
married, and settle down quietlv."
"Get married!" repeated the other, with
an expression of scorn; "what woman
would have an old man like me, except for
his money?"
"Old man, indeed!" exclaimed Mr. For
syth: "why, you're just in the prime of
life, and there isn't a young man in the
city who can boast an ore splendid phys
ique. Besides,you need hot marry a school
girl, you know. 1 know just the woman
for.you, about your own age, a widow
with one son."
"The idea of my marrying a widow!"
ejaculated Mr. Tartuffe in silent wrath as
he took his way homeward.
As he ascended the steps, the red-faced
dressmaker seated by the window in Mrs.
Simpson's room, exclaimed: "There goes
Mr. Tartuffe!'-'
"What did you say his name was ?" said
Mrs. Simpson rather eagerly.
"Simon Tartuffe. he's a rich old bach.
You had better set your cap at him. But
I'm afraid 'twouldn'i do no good, for they
do say he's a woman-hater."
Mrs. Simpson made no reply,but resumed
her work with a thoughtful face.
"Moti er, here is a letter tor you," said
Ernest's wife, enter ng the room. Mrs.
Simpson read the few lines it contained,and
then said: Aunt Elizabeth is ill; an attack
similar to the one she had three years ago,
and she wants me to come and stay with
her."
'Oh, dear, how sorry I am !" exclaimed
Jennie, "I don't know what we shall do
without you.
One afternoon, a fornight later, Mr. Tar
tuffe alighted from the train at Brierdale
station, and without stopping, took his
way up the village street to bis new home.
For the next few day he fairly lived out of
doors, exploring the country for miles
round, walking, driving, fishing and boat
ing. One afternoon, toward sunset, as he
lay fetretcked ut full length under a tree at
the brink of the river, the sound of oars
attracted his attention, and looking up he
saw a small boat coming rapidly toward
him. It was propelled" by two ladies, one
of them evidently a young girl yet in her
teens; the other, a splendidly developed
and still very handsome woman.
- "There comes Bob iu his wherry, cousin
MI 1.1.1 I KIM. PA., THURSDAY. OCTOBER 14, 1880.
Lizzie; let's have a race!" exclaimed the
younger of the two.
Mr. TartulTe raised himself upon his el
bow as he caught sight of it.
"Strange!'' he muttered, "but 1 could
swear 1 had seen that face before some
where or some time;yet it is like a dream."
Mr. Tartuffe rose and walked homeward.
"That's the sort of a woman I thought
Sophie would make, and. in fact, there is
something in her face that reminds me very
much of her."
The next Sunday Mr. TartulTe went to
church aud occupied the Forsyth pew. In
front of him were three ladies and two
gentlemen. Two of the ladies were young
and pretty, and in one them he recognized
the Katie of the boat. The third was elder
ly, and as plainly the mother of the two.
"And that must be Boh and the father,"
said Mr. Tartuffe to himself; "and now
where is cousin Lizzie?' The question
was no sooner asked than it was answered
by the appearance of that lady. She en
tered a Dew just across the aisle and oppo
site to the family party that Mr. Tartuffe
had been so closely observing. He studied
the sweet face ami the costume, so simple
in its appointments, yet perfect in taste.
At tli close of the service the gentlemen
whom Mr. TartulTe had taken to be the
paterfamilias came up and introduced him
self as a neighbor and old friend of the
Forsytlis.
"1 do not know whether you have ever
heard Forsyth speak of Emory Taylor."
"ludeed 1 have, aud in the highest
terms." responded Mr. Tartuffe, cordially
shaking the proffered hand. "1 am exceed
ingly happy to make your acquaintance."
"1 must make you acquainted with my
family," Mr. Taylor said, as h ; s wife and
children joined him, and then followed an
Introduction to the different members.
"Where is Cousin Lizzie?" asked Mr.
Taylor, looking around.
"She was in haste to get home, for fear
her aunt might need her; there she goes
now," pointing up the street, where a
stately figure was fast disappearing from
view.
"Our roads lie in the same direct ion; may
I have the pleasure of accompanying you?"
said Mr. Tartuffe to Katie.
"If you will make yourself very agree
able,ami not expect to be entertained in re
turn," she said, Hashing a saucy glance at
him.
A fortnight ago Mr. Tartuffe would have
considered the whole thing an unmitigated
bore, but tne last few days had wrought a
wonderful change in him. He exerted him
self to be entertaining, and succeeded ad
mirably. When they reached the gate,
Katie said:
"And now for your reward. IX) you like
croquet?"
"I have always detested it hitherto," he
said coolly, "but with you for a partner, 1
do nit doubt 1 shall soon become a com
plete votary of it."
"Very pretty, but you cannot impose
upon me with your gallant speeches. How
ever, lam to have a small croquet party
to-morrow afternoon, and wish you to make
one of the number. Cousin Lizzie Simpson
shall be your opponent, and, I assure you,
you will find her 'a foeman worthy oi your
steel.' She is the lady who'sat opposite to
us in church."
"Yes, 1 saw her with you in a boat the
otli er afternoon,"he said, quietly.
The croquet pany was a success, and
Mr. Tartuffe proved no despicable player
after all.
"That was a very close game; Ccusin
Lizzie, you must look or you will lose your
laurels. Another stroke would have fin
ished you," exclaimed Bob.
"1 should count it no dishonor to be
beaten by such a foe," she answered,
smiling.
Here tea was announced, aud the guests
turned their tootsteps toward the house.
Mr. Tartuffe found himse'f walking aloag
with Katie and her cousiu Lizzie.
"Miss Simpson, do you excel in every
thing you uudertake?" he began.
"Why, no, certainly not," she said,
opening her eyes in surprise.
Here Katie glided away from them to
the rest of the party.
Hush Katie!" she said, softly, laying
her fingers on her lip. "lie thinks Cousin
Lizzie is unmarried; don't you enlighten
him for your lives."
"But do you think it quite right ?" re
monstrated Katie's sis;er, Greta.
"Of course it is, so long as her husband
is dead."
One bright afternoon,some months later,
Lizzie Simpson stood by the window in her
room looking out with a troubled face. "It
has gone on too long already. I must
tell him the truth and take the consquences
Just then a carriage rolled up to the front
of the house, and Mr. Tartuffe alighted.
Hastily tying'a veil over her face, Mrs.
Simpson went down to meet him. It was
with a very lover-like air that he assisted
her into the carriage, and his manner
caused her to shrink with a premonition
of what was coming. A little snnle crept
into the corners of his mouth, and at
length, laying his hand upon hers, he said,
quietly, "it is of no use, lam not to be
diverted from my purpose, Lizzie; I love
you with a love which I believed nothing
could create in my neart again. 1 want you.
Will you come?"
She trembled like a leaf, and for a mo
ment strove to'speak in rain; then she said:
"Mr. Tartuffe, I have a confession to make
which may alter your feelings towards me.
I have been a widow for fifteen years."
He looked at her kindly for a moment;
she resumed hurriedly:
"I thought you knew, of course, at first,
and then it grew rather hard for me to tell
you; and I kept hoping you would find out
your mistake. Indeed, I had not the
slighest intention of deceiving you."
He smiled and drew her clpsely to hini
"Is that all ?"
"No; it is only the smallest part of my
confession, Simon," she cried vebniently;
'is it possible that you have never recognized
me ?"
"Sophie!" he exclaimed. "Ernest
Simpson's wife t" His face was pale, but
he only tightened his clasp, while he looked
into her eyes as if he would read her verv
soul.
She continued, witti choked voice:
"For ten years I believed yeu false and
treacherous, It was not until he lay on his
dying bed that he confessed the truth to
me, and I knew how cruelly you had been
wronged."
"I absolved you from all blame years
ago. As soon as I heard of Ernest's mar
riage tne truth flashed across me at once
that he loved you himself, and had been
the sole cause of our estrangement. I cutsed
myself for a blind fool when I realized that
I nad been hut an unsuspecting tool in his
hands. ('an you wonder that I had hated
him. and with a bitterness that—"
"Keuienioer that he is dead, and that he
was but human after all,"she interrup
ted. " Let the dead past bury ItH dead."
He bowed his head silently, aud, after
a pause, with a rther mischievous look, he
said: "Do you know why 1 left the city
and came to Brierdale ?"
"No," she replied, wonderingly.
"1 was running away from you. But
you have not answered my question yet; iH
this Mrs.Tartuffe that I hold in ily arms?"
suiting the action to the words, and drop
ping t lie reins as lie did so. Fortunately
the horse wins well trained.
"If you wish it." was the low reply.
When the rare June days ciune with
their rose-sented breath and dazzling skies,
Mr. Tartuffe took his bride home. Together
they stood at night upon the verandah aud
watched the moon as it rose, flooding the
whole earth with its silver.
"What can be more beautiful ou earth ?"
Lizzie said softly.
"Are you satisfied with your home—our
home?" he asked, looking down upon her
lovingly,
"Perfectly; and you?"
"1 came to Brierdale, anticipating one
happy year, instead of which I have ob
tained bliss for a lifetime."
Vineyards In Switzerland.
Did you ever see them build vineyards
in Switzerland? The operation is a curious
one, and would, we fancy, make an Illinois
farmer open his eyes. We had for some
time been amused by watching the modus
operandi from a window, well knowing
that we could never see anything of the
kind again. The locality was originally
the slope of a ravine, through which a vi
vacious little torrent leaps from the moun
tains; ami is, even now, so steep that we
looked apprehensively to see the adventur
ous workmen tumble off. When we saw the
men clearing away the debris of years, and
inaugurate the undertaking by a new line
of stone wall alongside the frisky little
stream, we could not imagine their object,
The next step was a series of these same
walls, built at right angles with the first,
and finally, one parallel with it, which also
served as a defence against the publi
being built close against the roadside. By
this time the affair presented the appear
ance of a new work of stone, forming an
acute iucliued plane. After several weeks
of steady work—these people never hurry
—our curiosity hail reached its highest
pitch, and we were divided between two
ideas —the one being that of a playground
for the neighboring school-boys, and the
other that it was the foundation of a new
marine pension—when one morning our
attention was attracted to a squad of men,
each carrying a pamer of earth on his
hack, who were slowly approaching the
scene of action. The mystery was solved,
and this was the way they built vineyards
in Suisse! Day after day, and week after
week, did this hopeless task
continue. To judge by the long intervals
between the arrivals, the soil must have
been biougnt from a great distance but at
length the task was finished and the walls
were quite covered. They are intended for
keeping the prospective vineyards from
sliding down into the ravine; and now it
only remained to grade it. This delicate
operation was completed by men who laid
fiat against the steep face of this novel ar
rangement, and smoothed and graded at
their leisure, afterward planting the vine
slips in the same calm and equable manner,
under circumstances which others would
consider unfavorable.
New and Stale Bread.
The nature of the difference between new
aud stale bread is far from being known.
It is only lately that the celebrated French
cheuust, Boussingault, instituted an in
quiry into it, from which it results that the
difference is not the consequence of dedi
cation, but solely of the cooling of the
bread. If we take fresh bread into the cel
lar or in any place where it cannot dry, the
inner part of the loaf, is true, is found to
be crumbly, but the crust is no longet brit
tle. If stale bread is taken into the oven
again it assumes all the qualities of fresh
baked bread, although iu the hot oveii it
must uudoubleuly have lost part of its
moisture. M. Boussingault has made a
fresh loaf of bread the subject of minute
investigation, ami the results are anything
hut uninteresting. New bread, in its
smallest parts, is so soft, clanuny
my, flexible and glutinous, (in consequence
of the starch during the process of ferment
ing and baking being changed into mucila
ginous dextrine) that by mastication it is
with greater difficulty separated and reduced
to smallest parts is less uuder the influence
of the saliva aud digestive juices. It con
sequently forms itself into hard balls by
careless aud hasty mastication and deg
lutition, becomes coated over by saliva and
slime, and in this state enters the stomach.
The gastric juice being unable to penetrate
such hard masses, and being scarcely able
even to act upon the surface of them, they
frequently remain in the stomach un
changed, and, like foreign bodies, irritate
and incommode it, inducing every species
of suffering—oppression of the stomach,
pain in chest, disturbed circulation of the
blood, congestions and pains in the head
irritation of the brain, and inflammation,
apopleptic attacks, cramp and delirium—
The ltaiplad Date Mark.
Bagdad is noted for a curious and mys
terious malady, which affects everybody in
the city, whether he be a cirizen or a stran
ger. It is a sore called a "date mark, 1 ' be
cause after it has healed i leaves an iudelli
ble mark about the size andshape of a date,
it generally makes its appearace upon the
face, lasts a year and then disappears.
The cheek of nearly every man and woman
in Bagdad shows the inevitable mark.
Sometimes it settles upon the nose and
then the disfigurement is great, sometimes
on the eyelid when blindness is the result.
Strangers are atacked even after a brief
residence; but forunately, if they are adults
the sore is more apt to come on the arm.
In every case the attack runs its course for
one year. No treatment, no ointment, nor
medicine has the slightest effect upon it.
Once the sore appearing the sufferer knows
what to expect, and may as well resign
himself to his fate. The Arabs say that
every one that goes to Bagdad must get
the "date mark" or if he does not get it
while in the city, he will be followed by
it—have it sooner or later, he must, Dr.
Thorn, of the American Mission, states
that he has examined the ulcer microscopi
cally, and fcund it to be composed of a
fungoid growth; but nothing that he had
ever tried had proved remedial.
I.eaaon* lu Woodcraft.
1. Notes of the barred owl aud loon in
dicate rain within twelve hours, lu the
lall wet weather follows the cry of the
tree-frog.
2. Bark grows thickest on the north side
of trees. Girdle a tree if you wish to tell
which is north.
8. The Center of rotten stumps affords
dry stuff for kindling fire iu drenching
ruin.
4. A torch which will last many hours
is made from half-inch strips of cedar hark
bound together in faggots two feet long or
more'
6. To hold a bout in a swift current, set
the pole, oar or paddle ou the bottom at an
oblique angle with the side of the Ixmt
resting against it. Very little strength
will be required.
0. To uieud a birch eanoe cut a patch
of bark large enough to cover the fracture;
sew it ou with an awl and stout cord of
hemlock roots; then apply a piece of
natural spruce gum to tlie seams or joints
with a glowing brand used as a soldering
iron is used.
7. To carry a fish of two |x>imds weight
and upward, place it between hemlock
boughs of the proper length, tied together
at both ends and in the middle, with bark,
r<x)ts, or cord. It will keep fresh and
sweet a long time, is easily cured, and will
not soil what it touches.
8. To mend a broken oar or paddle,
l>evel the fractured parts so as to make a
neat joint, pass a wooden plug through
both, aud serve neatly with twine to cover
the joint. Or, having made a joint, as
alxive, bore two gimlet holes two inches
Hpart ; double four feet of wire so that the
ends will pass through the holes in the same
direction; then whip or serve neatly with
the wire, and finish with a service of
twine.
9. For night shooting, chalk the gun
barrels lengthwise from breech to muzzle;
or, make a foresight by lashing a V shaped
stick to the muzzle. By bringing the object
within the V. a good bead can be drawn.
10. When a tree brushes off wisps of
buy from a load, the hay falls on that side
of the tree toward which the cart is going.
In summer hay is carted from the field to
the barn, unless stacked when cut. in
winter it is carted out from the barn to
stock employed in cutting logs, wood, etc.
Salt oi wild hay is most generally stacked.
It can be distinguished from field hay by
the taste and suiell.
11. An excellent moccasin, nearly
watei proof, is made from the hind leg of a
moose, cut alxive and below the hock, the
hock forming the heel. It is wholly with
out seaiu, except where sewed up at the
toe. If tanned with the hair on it, it is
very warm when worn in dry snow.
12. A table is easily constructed by
taking a turn with a rope armiid each
trunk of three or moie trees or saplings
conveniently near together; haul taut,
make fast, and lay Ixiards on top.
The
Eighty of the Popes are saints, thirty
one martyrs aad forty-three confessors.
St. Agatho, was the only Pope who lived
to be a ccntennarian, as he is also the only
one, alter St. Peter, who may be honored
with the title of miracle worker, St.
Agatho died at the age of 107 years, in
OS'2, having resigned three years six months
and fifteen days. Gregory IX. died at the
age of 98 years. Celestine 111. aud Gre
gory XIl., died at tlie age of 02;
John XXII. at the age of 00; Clem
ent XII. at the age ot 88 years, and Clement
X aud Pius IX, at the age of 86.
The Popes have been drawn from all
classes of society. Nineteen were sous of
near relatives of priuces; an equal number
came from illustrious families. Many
were nobles in rank, or of great wealth.
Others sprang from obscurity. Sixtus VJ.
was the son of a fisherman, Alexander V.
was the son of poor, unknown parents, and
passed his first year iu begging from door
to door. Adrian IV., the only English
Pope, was abandoned by his father and had
to subsist on charity, until going to France,
he entered a convent as a servant, where,
by his intelligence and his virtues, he was
afterward deemed worthy to be received
into religion. Sixtus V. had for his father
a jxxir laborer, for mother, a servant, and
for a sister, a laundress. St. Celestine V.
was the son of a simple farmer. Benedict
XII. was the child of a baker. Urban IV.
had a carpenter for a father, as also had
Gregory Vll.
Five of the Popes had studied medicine
Ixffore taking the holy orders. Benedict
XI. was tlie child of a notary. Julius 111.
was the descendant of a famous juriscon
sult. Pelagius I. was the son of a vicar
of the prefect of his province Paul V.
had for his father a pa* rician of Sienna,
and Eugene IV.. Gregory XII. and Alex
ander VII. belonged to patriciau families
of Venice.
Without I urtner Objection.
A man with a grip sack in his hand
halted before a Jefferson avenue fruit
stand, Detroit, and priced a choice variety
of peaches. When told that they were
twenty cents a dozen, he whistled to him
self, walked softly around, and finally
asked:
"Are you a Baptist?' 1
"Hardly."
"Neither am J. I did'nt know but that
if we both belonged to the same denomina
tion you'd throw off a little. Do you lean
to the Methodists?"
"Can't say that I do."
"That's my case. I never did take
much stock in the Methodists. Twenty
cents a dozen is an awful price for those
peaches, considering how tight money is.
1 expect you are a Universalis, eh?"
"No."
"Neither am I. Can't you say fifteen
cents for a dozen of these ?"
"Hardly."
"Aren't you an Kpiscopalain ?"
"No, sir."
"Neither am 1, but I was afraid you
were. I've been sort o' looking you over,
and I shouldn't wonder if you trained with
the United Brethren. Come, now, own
up."
"I never attend that church," was the
steady reply.
"Nor 1, either. Say, what are you any
how?"
"I'm a hard baked old sinner."
"No! Whoop! That's my case to a dot!
I am called the wickedest man in Washe
naw County ! I knew there was a bond of
sympathy between us if we could only find
it out! Now, do you say fifteen cents for
a dozen ?"
The fruit dealer counted them out with
out further objection.
Tlie Fatal Enountr.
It WHS toward the end of April, a season
whose arrival the dillttauti in Paris always
witness with dismay, for then the first ar
tists aud cantratices of the metropolis leave
to reap a golden harvest in the provincial
towns. The uvenue leading to the theatre
of Pergola was crowded with a long file of
brilliant equipages. A considerable crowd,
which had not been able to find places
within the house, already filled by the
wealthy and privileged classes, vented
their indignation in loud words near the
principal entrance. A riot even was ex
ja-ctcd, so much dissatisfaction was there
manifested in the lunguage aud gestures of
the multitude. But fortunately, the in
flammable crowd was at last pacified.
Madame P. was to appear that night in
the ojiera of Norma for the last time. The
audience that assembled to greet her on the
occasion was composed of the elite of Flor
entine society. Never was a more bril
liant dress circle to be seen, in one of
tlie side boxes sat the young Count Bach
eroni and his friends. This nobleman,
well known for his liberal principles, was
regarded as one of the chiefs of the repub
lican party of Florence and Italy. Indeed,
whether from motives of ambition cr dis
interestedness, the Count had always been
found arrayed in opposition to the ancient
nobility of Tuscany, and had always shown
himself an ardent and prompt defender of
the menaced liberties of the people. The
people, who are never ungrateful when a
man devotes himself to the interests of the
country, seeing in him an intrepid protector,
cherished for him a kind of worship ap
proaching the reverence of a son for his
father. Although gifted with a good edu
cation and a rare intelligence, the Count
partook of the opinions of the vulgar with,
regard to stage-play ere, and was imbued
with the same prejudices. In this view an
actress was entitled to no respect, aDd a
singer was of less consideration than the
lowest of the populace.
Ensnared by the graces and lieauty of
Madame I'., he had made that celebrated
vocalist offers, the most munificent and
brilliant, but they were met with contin
ued repulses. The evening of the depar
ture of the actress was arrived, and the
Count was no further advanced in her good
graces. Irritated by her indifference, and
inflamed with anger, he entered the theatre
with the fixed intention of bantering the ro
ll, lious cautatrice into compliance with his
wishes.
Madame P. was in the midst of a scene
with the tenor singer Zorelli, who person
ated tlie part of "Pa'cone," when the
Count, from his position near the stage,
hazarded some pleasantries at first gay and
satirical, then gross and injurious, while
his friends applauded and laughed at his
sallies. Zorelli spproached near the box
of the Count aud listened attentively. tso
absorbed did lie become that he lost kis
cue and forgot his part, while Bacheroni,
perceiving that he watched him began to
hit*. In this he showed himself less in
dulgent than any of the audience, who had
pardoned the actor his momentary distrac
tion. Zorelli leveled an angry glance at
the Count anil resumed his part. Backer
oui continued his annoying remarks until
he lall of the curtain.
They were yet laughing in the box of the
Count, w hen the door opened aud a man
appeared upon the threshold. It was the
singer Zorelli. His face was pale and his
brow contracted with emotion.
"Sir Count." he said, advancing, "you
have traduced and injured a female when
she was without protection against your in
sults, and who had given you no cause ex
cept the rejection of your dishonorable pro
posals. That female i regard as a sister.
I am the only protector she has in the
world, and 1 come to demand satisfaction
from you for the wrong you have done
her.
"Faith, you are not over fastidious in
your selection," replied the (!ount, with a
phlegmatic air, and with his hand waved
Zorelli away, as beneath his notice:
"If, in order to coutend with you, sir, it
is necessary that I should be of noble
birth, I will prove that my family is of a
rank equal, if not superior to your own:
but in the first place, swear that you will
render me satisfaction."
"You uoble!" interrupted Bacheroni,
"away, away! What would be thought of
me, were 1 to cross swords with a stroller
—a —*'
The Count was stopped in the midst f
his remarks by a blow from the \iand of
Zorelli.
Bacheroni rushed toward his adversary,
but his friends intercepted him and held
him back. The actor remained standing
near the door, with his arms folded upon
his breast. The Count, having been calm
ed down, approached him, and said in a
whisper, "1 consent."
"Name your place, hour and weapon,"
said Zorelli.
"At the San-Gallo gate at midnight,
with swords; they will make less distur
bance than fire-arms—the light of the moon
will be enough—there must be no witness
es."
"Agreed," said Zorelli, and he went to
resume his part in the opera. He saDg
till the close without manifesting the
slightest alteration in his voice, and with
out betraying the least emotion. Madame
P. having evinced some curiosity as to the
cause of his absence, he quieted her ap
prehensions by the coolness and self-posr
session of his manner.
The Count retired from his box shortly
after the encounter with Zorelli and did
not re-appeer there the rest of the even
ing.
In interrogating his conscience Zorelli snt
tisfied himself that he had acted as became
him toward his adversary. He had owed
such a debt of gratitude to the noble can
tatrice, that he would liave proved himself
a recreant and an ingratc if he had suffered
her to be outraged with impunity. Born
of a noble family of Trieste, Zorelli had,
from his youth manifested a remarkable
talent for music, and his father had per
mitted him to pursue his favorite study,
under any circumstances so natural in
Italy, without forseeing how far it would
lead him.
At an age when the imagination of a
young men is easily inflamed and responds
readily to the beautiful, he heard Madame
P., and from that time resolved to devote
himself to the theatre. Gifted with a
sonorous voice, aud of elegant manners,
he easily obtained an engagement and his
debuts were highly successful. More
lately his talent displayed itselt with such
brilliant eclat that he found himselt ap
plauded by the side of the most admirable
songstrs&sof Italy. It was to the well-direct -
Ed lessons of Madame P. that he had vowed
a gratitude without bounds.
At midnight Zorelli enveloped himself
ia his cloak, took a sword under his arm,
and directed his steps toward the spot de
signated by the Count. The moon shone
sufficiently bright for the distinguishing of
surrounding objects. On reaching the
ground he perceived a man pacing slowly
to and fro, his head reclined upon his
breast. He approached him. It was the
Count.
"Sir Count," said Zorelli, "consent to
retract your abusive remarks to-morrow in
the presence of witnesses and all will be
forgotten."
"On guard!" exclaimed Bacheroni, lev
eling his sword.
As these words were pronounced, Zorelli
saw issue from the shade, two men whom he
had not before remarked. At the same
instant he mortally wounded the Count,
who fell, exclaiming-. "In the name of
heaven, do not kill him. I slandered— *
But the poniard of the assassins had
already transfixed the ill-fated Zorelli. Tne
sword dropped from his hand, his knees
gave way beneath him, and he fell by the
side of his late adversary.
"Pierced to the heartl" said one of the
men, as he examined the wounds of Zorelli.
"He will not revive. And his excellency
breathes no more!"
The assassins who were none other than
two domestics of the Count, took away the
body of their master, and left that of Zo
relli.
The same night Italian liberty had lost
her strongest defender, her most devoted
champion, music ber most worthy and
skillful interpreter. The next morning the
populace, among whom the servants of
the Count had spread the report that their
master had been asassinatsd by Zorelli,
rushed upon the unburied remains of the
actor and tore them into fragments.
The Ancient Migain HUNOUTI.
Some time ago, a number of men engaged
in iron mining about three miles from Dry
Branch, a station on the St. Louis and
Sante Fe Railroad. At a depth of eighteen
teel below the surface the miners uncover
ed a human skull, with portions of the
ribs, vertebral column, and collar bone.
With them were found two flint arrow
heads of the most primitive type, imper
fect in shape and barbed. A few pieces of
charcoal were also found at the same time
and place. Dr. Booth was fully aware of
the importance of the discovery and tried to
preserve everything found, but upon touch
ing the skull it crumbled to dust, and some
of the other bones broke into small pieces
and partly crumbled away, but enough was
preserved to fully establish the fact that
they are human bones. Some fifteen or
twenty days subsequent to the first finding,
at a depth of twenty-four feet below the
surface, other bones were found—a
thigh bone and a portion of the vertebra,
aud several pieces of charred wood, the
bones apparently belonging to the first
found skeleton. In both cases the bones
rested on a fibrous stratum, suspected at
time to be a fragment of coarse matting.
This lay upon a floor of soft, but solid iron
ore, which retained the imprint of the fi
bers. Overlying the last found bones was
a stratum of what appeared to be loam or
sod from two and a half to three inches
thick, below which was a deposit of soft
red hematite iron ore, lying upon two large
bowlders of hard ore standing on edge
standing at an angle of about 45 degrees,
the upper ends leaning against each other,
thus forming a considerable cavity, which
was tilled with blue specular and hard red
ore and clay, lying upon a floor of solid
red hematite. It was in this cavity, that
the I nines, matting, and charred wood were
found, intermixed with ore. The indi
cations are that the filled cavity had origi
nally been a sort of cave, and that the sup
posed matting was more probably a layer
of twigs, rushes or weeds, which the in
habitants of the cave had used as a bed, as
the fiber marks cross each other irregularly.
The ore bed in which the remains were
found, and part of which seems to have
formed after the period of human occupa
tion of the cave, lies in the second (or sac
charoidal) sandstone of the Lower Siluriau.
A Dlsreputable'Famiiy,
There was a little shooting scrape at a
little town in the interior of Texas not long
ago, and it was not long before a reporter
was on the spot interviewing one of the
principals.
"So you are going to write it up," said
the survivor.
"\cs, I want the facts."
"I don't care a cent what you say about
the shooting, but I have one little favor to
ask."
The reporter said he would grant it
cheerfully if be could
"Well said the shootist, "I want you to
put down that my grandfather was one of
pirates Latitte's, and the worst cutthroat of
thegang/*
The reporter stared a little, but the
shootist went on to say:
"Please put in that one of my uncles
was hung by the Vigilance Committee iu
Sau F ,4w " l "sco, and two more of them are
niakii shos in the Illinois penitentiary;
that a cher one of them is practicing law
iu Nev York, and my only sister ran away
from home with the clown of a circus; that
as far as you can learn, there is not a mem
ber oi the family that has not done some
thingjdisgracef ul,"
"Why, what do you want all that in the
paper for?"
"Because I am sick of reading in the pa
pers that every fellow who has a little
shooting scrape belongs to one of the most
respectable families in the country. Just
put it down, for once, that one of the
parties to the unfortuuate affair belongs to
a highlydisreputable family. If you dou't
pnt it that way, you will wish you had."
Heatiug Cities.
A company with a capital of $1,000,000
is being organized at Cmcinnati to supply
steam for heating purposes to that city at
an estimate cost to consumers of 20 to 30
per cent, less than they now have to pay
for their own fires. The company propose
to erect twelve immense steam boilers on
the bank of a river, and to run pipes from
them under all the principal streets. Each
house desiring a supply of steam for heat
ing and cooking purposes will secure it by
making connection with the street main;
this will give it connection with the steam
reservoirs and supply it with all the heat
it reqiures.
NO. 41.