VOL. LIV. PROFESSIONAL CARDS OF BELLEFONTE. C. T. Alexander. c. M. bower. ATTORNEYS AT LAW. BKLLKFONTK, PA. Office In Qarman's new building. JOHN B. LINN, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BKLLKFONTK, PA. Office on Allegheny Street. QLEMENT DALE, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BKLLKFONTK, PA. Northwest corner of Diamond. Y° CUM & HASTINGS, ATTORNEYS AT LAW. BKLLKFONTK, PA. High Street, opposite First National Bank. C. HEINLE, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLEFONTt PA. Practices in all the courts of Centre County. Spec al attention to collections. Consultations in German or English. F. REEDER, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BKLLKFONTK, PA. All business promptly attended to. Collection of claims a speciality. J. A. Beaver. J. W. Gephart. JGEAVER & GEPHART. ATTORNEYS AT LAW. BKLLKFONTK, PA. Office on Alleghany Street, North of High. A. MORRISON, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BKLLKFONTK, PA omce on Woodrlug's Block, Opposite Court House. U S. KELLER, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BKLLKFONTK, PA Consultations In English or German. Office In Lyon's Building, Allegheny Street. JOHN G. LOVE, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BKLLKFONTK, PA Office In the rooms formerly occupied by the late w. P. Wilson. BUSINESS CARDS OF XILLHEIX, *. f 1 A. STURGIS, * DEALER IS Watches, Clocks. Jewelry, Silverware, he. Re pairing neatly and promptly don- and war ranted. Main Street, opposite Bank, M Uhelm, Pa. ~A 0 DEININGER, * NOTARY PUBLIC. SCRIBNKR AND CONVEYANCKR, MILLHEIM, PA. All business entrusted to him. such as writing and acknowledging Deeds, Mortgages, Helens* a, he., will he executed with neatness and dis patch. Office on Main Street. TT H. TOMLINSON, * DEALER IN ALL KINDS OF Groceries. Notions, Drugs. Tobaccos, Cigars, Fine Confectloneiies and everything in the line of a first-class Grocery st >re. Country Produce i aken In exchange for goods. Main Ist eet, opposite bank, Ml lbelin. Pa. TpvAVID I. BROWN, MANUFACTURER AND DEALER IN TINWARE. STOVEPIPES, Ac., SPOUTING A SPECIALTY. Shop on Main Stre< t. two h uses east of Bank, Mlllhelm, Penna. J EISENHU I'H, * JUSTICE OF THE PEACE, MILLHEIM, PA. All business promptly at tended f. collection of claims a specialty. Office opposite Rlsenbuih's Drug Store ~|AjJ USSER & SMIIH, DEALERS IN Hardware. Stoves, Oils, Paints, Glass, Wa Papers coach Trimmings, and Saddlery Ware, Ac,. Ac. All grades of Patent Wheels. Corner of Main and Penn Streets, Mlllhelm, Penna. TACOB 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. KRAPK, Pres. BARTER, AUCTIONEER, REBERSBURQ, PA. JaUsfaetloa Guaranteed. ikt pitllicim giirial DEAR GRANDMOrHKR. Grandmother paoea witli stately tr* ad Forward and back through the quaint old room. Out of the firelight, dancing and rid. Into the gathering dusk and gloom ; Forwaid and back. In her silken dress With its falling ruflioi of frost-like lace ; A look of the deepest tenderness In the faded lines of her fine old face. Warm on her breast in bis red uight-gowu Like a scarlet lily the baby lies. While softly the tired lids droop dowu Over the little sleepy eves. Grandmother sings to h m sweet and low, And memories oome wi h the cradle-song Of the days when she sang it long ago. When her life was young and her heart was strong. Grandmother's children have left her now, 'lie large old house is a shadowed place ; 1 ut abit iff i it in the sunset glow Of I cr life, like a star, comoe the baby's He lire wi ere of cld bis father lav ; i silly sl e eings him the same sweet strain Till the 'ears-rtcivcrirpere swept si ay, And the jcy of life's n orninp is 1 ere sgsi Grandmother's gray bead is lending low Over the dear little downy one The atepe of her pathway are few to go ; The baby's journey is just begun. Yet the roey dawn of his childish love Brightens the evening that else were dim ; And m after years from her home above. The light of her bles-ing will rest on him. On The Heights. "I will stand up to shout." Hugh said. "Will you lean back against this hill? I will lay your cousin down with her head in your lap. she is sound as a top. Now for it!" and standing up Hugh gave a shout with all the power of his lungs. There was a pause in the movement of the lanterns and then a shout. "Hallo-a-a!" Hugh shouted again; "this way!" Rapidly the lauterns came flittering along the road till they were d wn in front of them. "Here we are! here are the ladies!" Hugh shouted. "Any one hurt?" much: but we can't get either up or down. You must let a rope dowu to us from above. Here we are," and Hugh struck a match and lighted a large piece of paper. "Have the party above got ropes?" There was shouting backward and for ward, but the party above had not got ropes. "Send back for them at once," Hugh shouted, "and be sure and tell the lady that no damage is done here." "How do you feel now?—l was going to say cousin Amy," he laughed; "but I really haven't the pleasure of knowing your name?" "Amy Herbert." "How do you feel now. Miss Herbert?" "I feel weak, and rather headachy," she said; "but there is notlung really the mat ter with me. What an escape I have had!" "Yes, you had a narrow 9queak of it," Hugh said frankly; "just another pound or two of impetus and you would have gone over the ledpe." She was silent, and he went on. "Do you object to smoke? Because if you don't I should really like to light my pip®." "Not at all," Amy said. "There's something comfortable about a pipe," Hugh said, when it was fairly alight; "somehow one can talk when one gets a pipe alight." "I think men can talk at all times, * Amy said, with a flash of her usual spirits. "Bom# men can," Hugh said. "I can talk with men; but, do you know, some how I can't talk with women. I can talk with you now because I don't see you, and because lam smoking; but I should feel horribly uncomfortable if I met you in the morning." "I did not know any men were shy with women, nowadays," Amy said. "Shy?" Hugh repeated. "Well, yes, I suppose it is a sort of shyness witn me. I never had any sisters, and so, you see, I never got in the way of talking to girls. It is very annoying sometimes, and makes people think me a bear. I suppose you thought so. You must have done so." "Yes, ' Amy said. "1 did think you rather a bear, I am not accustomed to shy young men, and simply fancied you did not want to speak to strangers. And now, please tell me exactly what hap pened, because I shall have to ted aunt, and I have only a confused idea of what has taken place." Again Hugh told her the facts. • Then I owe my life to you," the girl said, when he had finished. "I really don't think you do," Hugh said, in a matter-of-fact way. "I ques tioo very much if you would have come roundout of your taint before I could have brought help from Barmouth. How ever, of course, I acted for the best, and it avoided all risk. There was no danger in getting down to you; the little one and 1 slipped down as easily as possible. If I thought you were going to tell me to-morrow that you were very grateful, or anything of that sort, I give you my honor I should go right away by the coach to Carnarvon." The g irifelt by the tone of Hugh's voice, that there was no affectation about him; that he really meant what he said. "I may just say 'thank you,' now? " she asked quietly. " Yes, just thank you, '" he said light ly. "If I were a man you would shake hands over it?" the girl asked. "Yes," Hugh said. "Please give me your hand." He stooped down, and she put her hand into his "Thank you," in a deep, quiet, earnest roice. Then as he rose again, she went on, in a changed voice. "Now mind, it is a bargain. We have shaken hands on it. lam not to be grate ful, and you are not to be afraid of me, but are just to be as natural with me as with Ida." "That is a bargain," Hugh said, with a laugh. "I don't think I shall feel shy with you in the future. I never talked so much with a woman in my life. I sup pose it's because I can't see your face." "I doa't know whether to take that for a compliment or the reverse," Amy laugh ed. MILLHEIM, PA., THURSDAY, NOVEMBER IS, 1880. "The reverse, of course," Hugh said, laughing, too; "compliments are not in my line. Ah, here they are with the rope. They have Iteen precious quick about it." And Ainy Herbert felt there was a real compliment In the tones in which bespoke. "Now you must wake Ida. How souudly she sleeps! Now let me help you on to your feet." Eveu with the aid of the rope It was a work of considerable difliculty to get Amy Herbert up to thet op of the slope; for she was weak and shaken, and unable to do much to help herself. At last it was managed; anil then she was helped down a steep path close by the road below, where a carriage from the hotel was waiting for them. "Will you come up ami see my aunt?" Amy asked, as they stopped at the door. "Not to-night, thank you. I will come in the morniug to see how you are after the shake; and, please," he "tell your auul of our bargain. It would be awful to come up to be thanked." "Good night," the gill raid. I won't forget. Come early. Now, Ida, come along; you will soon be iu bed.'' Two mouths later Mr. Ilcrbort was walk ing up and down his breakfast-ioom in a towering passion. Amy was sitting in a great arm chair. "It is monstrous, it is incredible," Mr. Herbert exclaimed. "Here you, for whom I have looked for a capital match, who re fused three of the very best men iu the dis trict last year, are away for two months and a half at this beggarly Welsh village, and you come back and deliberately tell me that you have engaged yourself to an artist, a fellow I never heard of." "Dear old daddy," Amy said quietly, "don't get angry about it. Come and sit down and talk it over reaaonly, as you al ways do things with me." "No, no, Amy. I know what your reasonable talking means. lam not to be coaxed or wheedled or made a fool of. It's all very well when you want a pair of new ponies or anything of that kind you have set your mind on, but there is a limt to everything." "Well, but we must talk the question over, daddy." "Not at all, not at all; no talk is neces sary. You tell me you waut to marry this fortune-hunting artist. I say at once I won't hear of it; that it's out of the ques tion; that 1 wdl not hear a single word about such a ridiculous affair." "Now, why should you call him a for tune-hunter?" Amy said, seizing at once upon the weak point. "He has not an idea that there is any fortune in the case. He saw me staying in poky lodgings at Barmouth, and, beyond the fact that I live at Manchester, he knows nothing. lie tells me that he has enough for us to live on very quietly, in addition to his profes sion. So, yox ses, he can't be called a fortune hunter." "Well, well, it makes no matter. The thing is monstrous, and 1 will not hear of U." "Well, daddy, I will do just as you like, and I won't say any more about it now; but, of course, to-morrow 1 must talk about it, because it is out of the question that 1 should break my word which 1 have given, and should make him unhappy, and be awfully unhappy myself. So i shall have to talk about him, and you will have to listen" —the father had sat down now — "because though, as my papa, you have a perfect right to say, *1 will not consent to your marrying this man,' still you know, 1 must talk about a thing which is making me very unhappy. And it will be so much better and nicer, daddy," and she went over to him now and sat herself down on his knee, with her arm around his neck, "if you give in at once. Because, you know, you can't keep in a naughty temper with me long; and besides, you would be very unhappy if I was unhappy; and at last, you know very well, you will have to give up being cruel and cross, and will tell me to be happy my own way. "Amy," her father said, trying to look very stem, "I have spoiled you. I have allowed you to tyrannize over me." "No, daddy, I can't allow that—cer tainly not tyrannize. I have led you for your own good, and you have been as happy as the day is long—" "And now," he continued, ignoring the protest, "I am to reap the reward of my folly. That you should have married a first-rate man of business I should have been contented. But an artist!" "Well, daddy, we wont talk any more about it to-day. Now I'll just smooth those naughty wrinkles, and I'll kiss you on each cheek and in the middle of your nose. There, now it looks like itself. There! ten o'clock striking, and you not off I Mind I shall expect you up to lun cheon." Bo Mr. Herbert went off shaking his head, and although still determined, yet at heart very doubtful as to his power of re sistance. Amy went to her special sanc tum, and wrote her first lc ter to Hugh. The following sentences show that she had no doubt whatever on the subject: "Daddy noes not take quite kindly to the notion as yet. He doesn't know you, you see, and it has of course come up on him a little suddenly, but he is the very best and kindest of all the daddies in the world, and in a very few days he will see it in quite the right light. It is no use your writing or coming to me here till ho is quite reasonable: but I expect by this day week to have everything arranged. I w ill let you know what train to come by, and will meet you at the station." It is to be presumed that Amy thorough ly understood her father; but at any rate, it was exactlly that day week that Hugh Carson, having olieyed instructions, and got out at the station directed, five miles from Manchester, was a little surprised and much disapDoiuted at not seeing her upon the platform. "Your luggage, sir! Are you the gen tlemen for the Hawthorns? Very well, sir, I will send up the portmanteau; Miss Her bert is in the pony-carriage." "Bless me. Amy, Hugh said, after the first greeting, as they drove off, "you used to talk about your pony-trap, but this turn out is pretty enough to attract attention in the park. Amy" and he looked at hei with a puzzled glance, "you're not a swell, are you?—because that would be dread ful." "Well, Hugh, if being a swell means having lots of money, I suppose I am one. for daddy has lots upon lots. He's got cotton-mills, you know. But there's noth ing dreadful in that." "You ought to have told me, Amy," Hugh said, a little gravely. "PcMribet*,'" the girl said. "In the first place, it was nice to that % yoi& tell in love with me without knowing whether I hail a halfpenny; iu the second place, you would be very likely have run away It you hail thought 1 wasrich;aud to know tell you the truth, Master Hugh, 1 had no idea of letting you run away. There, Hugh, there's the house; isn't it pretty ?" "It's almost a palace," Hugh aaid iu disuiny. "Yes; noil there's papa at the door wait ing to greet you. Now, look quite pleu sant and bright, Hugh, for, of course, 1 want him to like you almost as much as I da" Fatal Duel*. A noted duel occuroil at Paris in the winter of 1858 59, between Count Trepan co, a Neapolitan nobleman, and the Mar quis tie Pierrefonds. The Marquis had preseuteil to a young woman of the demi moude a vase of cardenias of unique beauty. On the same evening he accompanied her to a ball, which, by the way, was given by the notorious Me rope Uarucci. While dancing the lauciers with the girl, the Mar quis noticed in the same set a handsome youth. He wore a cardenia iu bis button hole. He questioned his partner, aud was satisfied that she had given the flower to the Italian. He went straight to the Count anil tore the flower flora his la-east. A eliallenged followed. Pistols were select ed. Twelve shots were exchanged, at a distance of twenty feet, without a result. T he Italian insisted on continuing the duel, saying that he could not be an actor in a farce. At the thirteenth shot he received a bullet in his heart, and expired. In his testamentary letter he entreated, in case he should be killed, that the Marquis de Pierre fontls would place upon his cold heart the cardenia which had been the cause of the strife. Six mouths later Pierrefonds, who was aid de-camp to Geueral l'Espinassc, was entering a village during the battle of Magenta. The first shot from the neigh boring houses struck him in the heart,mak iug a wound identical to that received by the Italian Count. The dry reaves of a cardeuial were found in an envelope above the dead Marquis' heart. A bouquet of violets was the oause of a fatal duel. The young Count de Seiguelay, attache to the French Legation at the Hague, was visiting Brussels. The youth ful diplomat hail been desperately in love with Diane de Chanceray, a beautiful wo ma i. Cue eveuing, as the Count was wit nessing a performance at the Theater de la Mouuaie,he suw her,covered with diamonds and laces, in a box with the Prince de Klostercamp. The heart of the young lover beat violently. All the souvenirs of his former happiuess flashed before him. Diaue grew paler than the lace she wore. She leveled her opera glass at him, and kept it fastened upon him for a long time. Then she tore a bouquet of violets from her bosom aud began to kiss and bite them. They gazed at each other like Italian lovers. As the performance was drawing to a close she arose to depart. Seignelay placed himself in the loyer at the foot of the marble staircase. He requested a frisnd who was acquainted with Prince Kioster camp to engage him in conversation for a moment, so as to give him an opportunity to exchange a few words with the lady. His friend Fervailyues did af ter kissing the violets thrust them benoath the open vast of the young lover. The Prince, however, saw the action. Next morning two of his friends called on the ht ache with a challenge. [A duel followed* Swords were the weapons. Seignelay was pierced through the heart after five assaults, and expired in the arms of his friends, ut tering the name of Diane. He was buried in a cemetery near Brussels. Two years later the witer visited the cemetery and saw a bouquet of fresh violets ou the stone that mrrked his grave. A Rath in the Dead Sea. Greatly relieved and refreshed, we pur sued our journey. As we came in sight of the Dead Sea we noticed that peculiar hazy appearance of the atmosphere, reminding us of Indian summer in our own country, and we found ourselves subject to that singular optical delusion sometimes pro duced by a very transparent and highly rarefied atmosphere, in which distant ob jects appear quite near. At a certain point, when we were some five distant, it seemed as if we were within half a mile of the shore. Reaching, at length, this most remarkable of all the seas and lakes on our globe, we prepared to take a bath—and such a bath I can hardly expect ever to take again. I had previously bethed In numerous seas, lakes, and rivers, but never did I enjoy such a bath as this. The spe cific. gravity of the water is such, from its holding in solution so large a proportion of salts, (twenty-six and a half per cent.) that one floats upon the surface like a cork. At the time there was only a gentle ripple upon the sea, and being a good swimmer I at struck out into deep water. I soon f' ; ame a great baboon who seized the young one by the cuff of the neck, shaking him vigorously until the plump morsel dropped from his pouch. Having gobbled this up, the elder baboon at cmce regained his lounge, and all went on as before in the sleepy hollow." The Number of Plants. In the Bible about 100 plants are alluded to; Hippocrates mentioned 238; Theo phrastus 500 and Pliny 800. From this time theie was little addition until the Renaissance. In the beginning qf the fif teenth century Gesner could only enumer ate 800 butat its close B&uhin described 6,000. Tournefort in 1694 recognized 10, - 156 species ; but Linnaeus, in the next cen tifty working more cautiously, defined only 7,294. In the beginning of this century, in 1805 Persoon described 25,000 species, comprising, however, numerous minute fungi. In 1819 De Candolle estimated the known species at 80,000. Loudon in 1889 gave 81,731 species; in 1846 Professor Lindley gave 80,887, but in 1868 these had increased to 92,920. At present the known speeies are estimated at 126, *#o. NO. 46.