VOL. LY.
PROFESSIONAL CARDS OF
BELLEFONTE-
C. T. Aidxamiet. CTM. bower.
,4 LEXANDER A BOWER,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW.
BKLLKFONTK, PA.
Office in Garm&n's new building.
JOHN B. LINN,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BELLKFONTK, PA.
Office on Allegheny Street.
OLEMENT DALE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BKLLEFOTUI. PA.
Northwest corner of Diamond.
YOCUM & HASTINGS,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW.
BKLLRFONTB, PA.
High Street, opposite First National Bauk.
YYRW.C. HEINLE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BKLLKFONTS, PA.
Practices in all the courts ot Centre County.
Spec &1 attention to Collections. Consultations
in German or English.
YYRILBUR F. REEDER,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BJELLKFONTR. PA.
All business promptly attended to. Collection
ot claims a speciality.
J. A. Beaver. J. W. Gephart.
JJEAVER Si GEPHART,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW.
BELLEFONTK, PA.
Office on Alleghany Street, North of High.
A. MORRISON,
ATTORNEY AT LAW 7 ,
BRLLE*ONTE, PA-
Office on Wood ring's Block, Opposite Court
Bouse.
HQ S. KELLER,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
bjellefonte, fa,
OoM iltatloM In English or German. Office
In Lyon's Building, Allegheny Street.
JOHN G. LOVE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Office in the rooms formerly occupied by the
late w. p. Wilson.
BUSINESS CARDS OF MILLHEIM, St.
A. STURGIS,
DEALER Iff
/
Watches, Clocks, Jewelry, Silverware, Ac. Re
pairing neatly and promptly don- and war
ranted. Main Street, opposite Bank, M llhelm,
Pa.
A O. DEININGER,
* NOTARY PCBLIC.
SCRIBNEK AND CONVEYANCER,
MILLHEIM, PA.
All business entrusted tahlm, such as writing
ahd acknowledging Deeds, Mortgages, Releases.
Ao., will be executed wiih neatness and dis
patch. Office on Main Street.
TT H. TOMLIXSON,
DEALER IN
ALL KINDS OF
Groceries, Notions, Drugs, Tobaccos, Cigars,
Fine Confectloneiles and everything in the line
of a first-class Grocery sture.
Country Produce taken in exchange for goods.
Main St.eet, opposite Bank, Ml lheim. Pa.
I. BROWN,
MANUFACTURER AND DEALER IN
TIX WARE. STOVEPIPES, AC.,
SPOUTING A SPECIALTY.
Shop on Main Street, two lrunes east of Bank,
Millhelm, Penna.
T EISENIIUIH,
* JUSTICE OF THE PEACE,
MILLHEIM, PA.
All business promptly attended to.
collection of claims a specialty.
Office opposite Elsenhuth's Drug Store.
"AAUSSER & SMITH,
DEALERS IX
Hardware, Stoves, Oils, Paints, Glass, Wa
Papers, Coach Trimmings, and Saddlery Ware,
Ac,, be.
All grades of Patent Wheels.
Corner of Main and Penn Street-, Mlllhelm,
Penna.
JACOB WOLF,
PAIHfONABLE TAII OH,
MiLLHEIM, PA.
Cutting a Specialty.
shop next door to Journal Book Store.
jyjiLLHEfM BANKING CO.,
MAIN STREET,
MILLHEIM, PA
A. WALTER,Cashier. DAV. KRAPE, Pres.
HARTER,
AUCTIONEER,
HHBERBBURG, PA
NUUtacu oa Guaranteed.
Love Passages.
Cupid, I adore three! There is a charm —
Turn up your lip, old Sourcrout! we care
not. We, the young, the gay, the healthy,
the happy! Wisdom! —physic—-no more!
fling them both to the dogs, say 1. Wis
dom fiddlesticks! lam tired of it. What
is it? a mourning dress! —water gruel!—a
pair of goggles to the eyes of the anient
youth?—a lame fool!—a peddler's pack full
of invaluable thinjs, but then so heavy!
Wisdom is a school-master, with a ferule
and a frown, a broad-brimmed bet, and a
voice that makes the ears ring. It is al
ways hammering away at your ears and
your conscience. You are circumscribed
within narrow limits. You must not, for
your life's sake, go out of bounds. You
must not look at the sunshine, nor pluck
the fruit, nor bathe in the stream, nor smell
the opening flowers. This is wisdom. It
makes avarice a habit and suspicion a duty.
It checks the ardor of youth, extinguishes
the fire of hope and saddens even the bright
ness of virtue. Who has it? The old, the
wrinkled, the sick, the superannuated—
they who have drained the dregs of pleas
ure? It is the lesson of rashness, bought
by disappointment; and it teaches distrust,
melancholy and despair-
Give me hope, joy, youth, love! And
this brings me back to my subject.
Cupid—laughing, rosy, blooming boy!
How the sweet mischief troubles men and
women, beardlessimpl gray beards, prudes,
scholars, philosophers, statesmen; and as
forpoetß, such as Frederick—Jove! it makes
my heart ache. Poor Frederick! One of
my peculiarities is a strong tendency to dif
fer in opinion from other people upon al
most every possible subject. I never mouth
the matter —I come out roundly.
I have no doubt the reader is fond of
roast beef, and plum pudding. Now, I
detest them. Nothing could lie more gross,
earthly, stultifying. Besides, no man fond
of such stuff does, ever did, or can sit
down to such a meal without rnnniug into
excess. Then come custard, ice-cream,
fruit., almonds, raisins, wine. You rise
with a distended stomach and a heavy
head, and stagger away with brutish apa
thy. lam for light diet —milk, rice, fruit
—sweet, harmless things of nature. No
lamb bleeds for me. No stately ox is slain
that I may feast. Old mother earth sup
plies my slender appetites. The det p, deep
spring, clear as crystal, the innocent vege
tables, ethereal food. Thus lam light as
air. lam keenly susceptible to every mor
al and natural beauty, which few enthusi
astic beef-eat ere are.
I differ from everybody in another thing.
I believe in love at first sight. We ought
to. be able to tell ia a week whether a
woman would do for a wife. The judg
ment of true love is intuitive; a glance and
it is done. A man of genius has in his own
imagination a standard of the object of his
love —an unexplainable model—the proto
type of which exists somewhere in reality,
although he may never have seen or heard
of her. This is wonderful, but it is true.
He wanders about the world, impervious to
all the delicious, thrilling, soul-melting
beams of beauty, till he reaches the right
one. There are blue eyes, they are len
der, but they touch not him. There are
black, they are piercing, but his heart re
mains whole. At length, accident flings
him into contact with a creature, he hears
the tone of her voice, he feels the warm
streams of soul shining from her counte
nance. Gaze meets gaze, and thought
sparkles into thought, till the magic blaze
is kindled, and —they fall in love.
it sometimes happens that for one mo
del in the imagination of this man of ge
nius, there are accidentally two or three
prototypes in real life: or rather he has two
or three different models.
It is a great misfortune for a man to
have more models than one. They lead
him astray. They mvolve him in diffi
culties. They play the mischief with
him.
And yet metaphysicians and phrenolo
gists oght to know that it is no affair of
his. If a school-hoy have the organ of de
structiveness, you may whip him for kill
ing flies, but you must not wonder at h<m.
If a youth—But this brings me back again
to my subject.
I never could tell how many of these
models Fred had; a great many, no doubt.
He was a sad dog, a Don Juan, a sort of
Giovanni in London, and he bid fair to be
a Giovanni in—but that was his business.
Oh, the sweet womenl It is almost incredi
ble. He must have dealt in magic. It
was a perfect blessing to be near him; to
catch the light and heat of the thousand
glances, which fell upon him—and of
which you caught a few stray ones—
though only by accident Lovely women
fell into his mouth like ripe plums. He
had clusters of them. They all loved him,
and he loved them all. His soul was as
large as St. Peter's.
'What are you thinking of, Fred?' said I.
"Caroline," he answered.
"She who sailed yesterday for England?"
"Yes—l love her."
"And she? 11
He arose and opened an escritoire.
"Is it not perfectly beautiful?"
The sweet relic of golden sunshiny hair
lay curled charmingly in a rose-colored en
velope. It did look pretty. But—
"Has Caroline B—such light hair?" ask
ed, 1.,1 never knew—l always thought—
was oly serving only yesterday that —sure
ly, sureb, you have made some mi stake—
see, what is that written on the bottom of
the paper? "Julia!"
A BIRD'S SONG,
Down In the t&ugled oiea<lof
Beaide the dusty way,
A wee, tweet bird it singing
Through all the long, bright day,
A aong so short and simple.
It scarcely seems to be
Worth while to keep repeating
Its bit of melody.
And in the short lull*, only,
Of more pretentions oug,
Wheu momentary silence
Comes o'er the favored throng,
Floats on the air that cadeuoe,
bo tremulous and low.
That i no must list* n softly,
Or lose its geutle flow.
And yet the tiny singer
Keeps stnging bravely on
Through changing sun and shadow.
Till the sweet day is done ;
And if more favored songsters
8 ng better far tbau he,
Tl e love ha song makes vocal
Wi 1 its perfection be.
MILI.IIEIM. PA., THURSDAY, JANUARY 6, JSBI.
Fred hastily looked again into the little
pigeon-hole, ami drew forth another roae
colored envelope®, another and another.
I smiled, So did he.
What a vile, narrow prejudice it is,"
said Fred.
"What?"
"The man who can love only once. I
have loved twenty, fllty, nay, a hundred
times. 1 always fr>vo some one. Some
times two at a time, sometimes twenty."
"Heartless!" exclaimed I. "This is not
love! Love is sole, absorbing, pure, con
stant, immutable."
"Hark, ye, - ' said Fred, "I seldom cease
to love. Adding another angel to the list
does not infer the striking out of any of
the others. There is no limit. A man of
soul loves just as he happeus to be placet!
iu relation to women. I am warmed by
them as 1 am when 1 stand in the sunshine.
Because 1 have a garden here, when the
beams of the god of day fall on my shoul
ders with a pleasing ardor, must 1 not feel
the warmth when I stand in your garden
yonder! It is the great principle—should
the object of my early love die, must I be
ever thereafter dead to the most exquisite
of human passions? DeaMi is only absence.
I know twelve pretty women. They are
better than men. Nature made them so.
They are all different, all excellent, all di
vine. Cau 1 be blind? Can I be deaf?
Shall 1 deny that their voices are sweet,
their hearts tender, theii minds clear, and
intelligent? No, 1 love them all —Julia,
Mary, Fanny, Helen, llenriette, Eliza.
I never think of them without, sensations
of delight."
Frederick felt a hand upou his shoulder,
He looked up. It was Mrs. 8., his wife.
"The deuce!" said he. 1 had withdrawn,
of course. lam a bachelor myself—cur
tain lectures are not iu my way. I have
troubles enough of my own. Mrs. B. did
not come down to dinner. Mr. B. did not
come home to tea. I did not get up uext
morning to breakfast, bo 1 could not
kuow what was the result. Mrs. B. is one
of the loveliest women 1 ever met. i be
lieve 1 have two or three models myself.
It is pleasant euougli, but then —every rose
lias its thorns.
"Only think," said she to me, her eyes
moistened with tears, hei cheek crimsoned
with shame, her heart palpitating with dis
tress, "twelve! He loves twelve, he says."
"A whole jury!"said I.
"It is monstrous!" said she.
"Monstrous indeed!" echoed I.
"What if I sliould love twelve officers?"
said she.
"Tit for tat," said I.
"Or six," said she.
"Too good for him," said I taking her
hand.
"Or three," said she.
"Or one," said I, drawing her towards
me and kissing her soft lips, bin; was my
only sister and I always loved her. The
plot was arranged. Frederick had medi
tated a journey of two uays, but was call
ed back, by an anonymous note, at nine
the same evening. *
Tail women are so scarce. \Ye hired tlie
uniforms at the tailor's. "1 am thunder
struck!" exclaimed Henry tY> me. "The
world i 9 at an end. The sun is out. What!
Kate —my dear Kate!" lears gushing
from bis eyes.
"I saw it myself," said the servant.
"Kissed her!"
"Six times," said John.
Frederick caught the pistol, an.l pointed
it at his head. 1 wrenched it from his
grasp.
"Come with me," I said. "Perhaps it
may be a mistake."
We opened the door softly. In the room
Bat Mrs. B—at her feet a richly-dressed
young soldier who kissed her hand, re
ceived from her a lock of hair, swore he
loved her—and left htr with an ardent
embrace.
"1 am suffocating." said Fred.
"Hush!" 1 exclaimed, "bee, there is
another. How familiarly he seats himself
by her side—takes her hand—"
"1 shall strangle to death!"
"Patience!"
"Dearest colonel!" exclaimed Julia.
"The other was only the lieutenant,"
whispered John.
"1 am blessed with too few such faithful
friends as you."
I held Fred still with the grasp of a
giant.
"That 1 love you I can not den}-. A
woman of soul loves just us she happens to
be placed in relation to men. bhe is warmed
by their noble characters as she is wheu she
stands in the sunshine, it-ia the great prin
ciple."
"Loveliest of thy sex," said her com
panion.
Fred burst forth levelling both pistols at
the colonel. He pulled the triggers, hut
they did not go off. Pistols loaded with
sawdust seldom do.
The colonel uttered a scream and fled.
"Madam!" said Fred, swelling with in
dignation, "have you anymore of these af
fectionate friends?"
"Only eight, my dear husband. Why,
what puts you in such a rage?"
"Perfidious wretch!"
"Hear me," said Mrs. 8., solemnly.
"When we married, I intended to devote
my life, my actions, my heart to you. From
you I expected the same. 1 can see no dis
tinction in our relative duties toward each
otiier. Love must exist on both sides, or
on neither. Whatever may be the opinions
of a heartless world, a mar of true genius
and of true virtue makes his wife—"
"I am not to be pr ached to, traitress,"
said Fred. "1 leave you now forever; but
not till I take vengenance on my new mili
tary acquaintances. Where are they?"
"They are here," she answered.
The door was thrown open, and the two
officers, with their chapeaux off, were heard
giggling and laughing in a most unmilitary
manner.
Fred soon discovered the truth and I read
him his moral.
Husbands all. remember that wives have
equal anguish and 9hame with yourselves
in receiving a share of affection, though
they do not possess your despoii® power in
extorting it. The slightest dereliction,
even though ouly the carelessness of a mo
ment on the part of a wife, stamps her for
ever with ignominy and pain; while the ab
surd customs of society allow to a man a
greater latitude, in slighting, neglecting and
deceiving her whose happiness is in his
keeping. Of these customs, "the man of
true genius" will never take advantage.
—Three Petiluma men were re
eently hunting on Piute Creek, Lake
county, Cal., and killed thirty-two
deer. They took 100 pounds of honey
from a orcYice in a eUtl.
The Two Deaeou*.
Between eighty and ninety years ago
there lived in Connecticut river valley two
farmers, one of whom was named Hunt
and the other C'lark. The former, in early
life, had been a man ,f strong will and
somewhat hasty and violent temper. Some
times he had beeu seen beating his oxen
over their heads with the handle of his
whip in a manner to excite the pity of the
bystanders, and wheu expostulated with he
excused himself by saying that he had the
most fractious team in town. By aud by
au alteration took place in the temper of
Farmer Hunt. He became mild, forbear
ing, and, what was most remarkable, his
oxen seemed to improve in disposition at
an equal pace with himself.
Farmer Hunt joined the church and was
an exemplary man. llis neighbors saw
the change both iu himself and his team.
It was a marvel to the whole town. One
of his townsmen asked for tin explanation.
Farmer Hunt said:
"1 have found out a secret alx>ut my
cattle. Formerly they were unmanage
able. The more I whipped and clubbed
them, the worse they acted. But now
when they are unmanageable I go behind
my load aud ting 'Old Hundred,' and,
strange as it may appear, no sooner have 1
ended than the oxen go along as quietly as
I could wish. 1 dou't kiow how it is, but
they realty seem to like singing."
In the course of a few yea's the two far
mers were chosen deac >ns of the church,
aud they both adorned their profession.
About the time of then election a grievous
famine prevailed in the valley, and the
farmers generally wt re laying up their
coru to plant the eusuing season. A poor
man living in the town went to Deacon
Hunt and said:
"I've come to buy a bushel of corn.
Ilea* is the money, it's aliout all 1 can
gather."
The Deacon told him he could not spare
a bushel for love or money. He was keep
ing double his usual quantity for seed-corn
the next year, and he had to stint his own
family. The man urged his suit in vain.
At last he,said:
"Deucon, if you don't let me have the
corn, 1 shall curse you.?*
"Curse me!" replied the deacon, "how
dare you do so?"
"Because," says thy man, "the Bible
says so."
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Deacon Hunt,
"there iu no such thing in the Bible."
"Yes, there is ! replied the poor man.
"Well," said the dpacorr, "if you can
fliid any such text I'll g.ve you a bushel of
corn."
They went into the house, when the poor
man went to the old family Bible; turning
to Proverbs xi. 26, be read: "He that
wilbholdeth corn, the people shall curse
him ; but blessings shall be upon the head
of him that uclletii it. ,
The deacon was faifly caught. "Come
along," said he, "and 1 will be as good as
uiy ward."
He took btm to the *COTti-house, meas
-—■ ■—** ot *ft< <-r
man to put it into his bag, assisted him to
pat it on his shoulders, and, just before his
departure, being somewhat of a wag, he
said, with a twinkle in his eye:
"i say, neighbor, after you have carried
this corn huie, go to Deacon C'lark and
curse him out of auother bushel."
Altiiouclri iu California.
Almonds have been raised for years in
California, and could, doubtless, be raised
in other States with a mild climate if the
attempt should be nude with intelligence
aud persistency. It is strange that the al
mond is not more widely cultivated in this
country, lor it is a jrofiiable crop, and we
annually import large quantities from the
Southern States of Europe. A native of
the East aud Africa, especially of Barbary,
the tree from twenty to thirty feet high,
now grows comphtely wild throughout
Southern Europe. In Northern Germany
aud Biilain, it is panted for its beautiful
flowers, produced k.ost pluntifully, and re
sembling those of the peach in form aad
color, but generally pder, sometimes even
white. The flowers precede the leaves,
and add much to shrubberies in March' and
April. Even when froas kill the germ of
the fruit the flower is tot affected. The
almond has numerous vareties, but the prin
cipal kinds known to ommerce are
bitter and the sweet. Mich as the latter
is used for dessert, it coitains very little
nourishment, aud of all nits is one of the
most difficult of digestion. The almond is
pressed for oil, and employed variously in
the household, the bitter containing less
fixed oil than the sweet aluoud. The bit
ter almond is strongly nircotic, derived
from the presence of hydrocyanic acid, and
saul to act as poison on dogs and some of
the smaller animals. Its distilled water is
very deleterious to man, and taken in a
large dose, will cause almost instantaneous
death.
Intelligence In Bird*.
The Central Prison at Agra is the roostr
ing-place of great numbers of the common
blue pigeon; they fly ut to the neighboring
country for food every morning, aud re
turn in the evening; when they drink at a
tank just outside the priwrn walls. In this
tank are a large number of fresh-water tur
tles, which lie in wait fot the pigeons, just
under the surface of the vater aud at the
•edge of it. Any bird alghting to drink
near one of these turtles, Ins a good chance
of having its head bitten off and eaten; und
the headless bodies of pigeons have been
picked up near the water, showing the
fate which has sometimes befallen the
bird*. The pigeons, however, are aware
of tie dangir, and have hit on the follow
ing plan to escape it: A pigeon comes in
froia its long flight, and as it nears the
tant, instead of dying tiown at once to the
water's-edge, will cross the tank at about
twenty feet above its surface, and then fly
hade to the side from which it came, ap
parency selecting for alighting a soft spot
which it had remarked as it flew over the
bank; but eveu when such a spot has been
selected the bird will alight at the edge
of the water, but >n the bank about a yard
from the water, and will then run down
quickly to the water, take two or three
hurried gilps of it, and then fly off to re- j
peat the same process at another part of'
the tank .ill its thirst is satisfied. I had
often witched the birds doing this, and j
could not account for their strange mode of
drinking, till told by my friend, the super
intendent of the prison, of the turtles
which lay in ambush for the pigeons.
IT'S eader to tie a knot in a bull's
horn than to uiak your wife believe
that every other light is a lodge night.
The Boatman** Daughter.
lii the memorable year of 1814, when
the allied armies were concentrated about
Paris, a young Lieutenant of Dragoons was
engaged with three or four Hungarians,
who, after having received several smart
strokes from his sabre, managed to send a
ball into his shoulder, to pierce his chest
with a thrust from a lauce, and to leave
him for dead on the bank ofthe river.
On the opposite side of the stream, a
boatman and lus daughter had been watch
ing this unequal fight with tears of deape
ratijn. But what could an old unarmed
man do, or a pretty girl of 16? However,
the old soldier—for such the boatman was
—had no soonerscentheofflcerfall from his
horse than he and his daughter rowed vig
orously for the opposite side. Then, when
they had deposited the wounded man in
the boat these worthy jieople crossed the
river again, but with faint hopes of reach
ing the military hospital iu time.
"You ifive been hardly treated my boy,"
said the old gentleman to him "but here
am 1, who have gone farther still, and
come home."
The silent and fixed attitude of Lieuten
ant 8. showed the extreme agony of
his pains ; anl theherdy boatniau soon dis
covered that the bhxxl which was flowing
iutcrnally from the wound on his left side
would soon terminate his existence. He
turned to his youthful daughter.
"Mary," he suid, "you have heard me
tell of my brother ; he died of just such
another wound as this here. Well, now,
had there only beeu someliody by to suck
the wound, bis life would have beeu
saved."
The boatm&u then landed, and went to
look for two or three soldiers to help him
carry the officer, leaving his daughter in
charge of him. The girl looked at the
sufferer for a second or two. What was
her emotion when she heard him sigh so
deeply, not that he was resigning lus life
in the first flower of his age, but that he
should die wi'hout a mother's kiss.
"My mother 1 my dear, dear mother!"
said he, "I die without —"
Her woman's heart told her what he
would have saiii. Her bosom heaved with
sympathy, and her eyes ran over.
Theu she remembered what her father
had said; she thought how her uncle's life
might have been saved, in an instant
quicker than thought, she tore open the
officer's coat, and the generous girl recal
led him to life with her lips.
Amid tnis boiy occupation the sound of
footsteps was hard, and the blushing he
roine fled to the other end of the boat.
Judge of hiT father's surprise, as be came
up with the two soldiers, when he saw
Lieut, b., whom he expected to tiud dead,
open his eyes and ask for his deliverer.
The boatman looked at bis child and saw
it all. The poor girl came to him with
her head bent down. 8h was aliout to
excuse herself, v. hen the father, embracing
her with cuihusiasm, raised her spirits, and
the officer thanked her in these prophetic
words:
■"YoQ XUiVc a<iveO uiy life ; ti belongs to
you*"
After this she tended him and became his
nurse; nothing would he take but from her
hand. No wonder that with such a nurse
he at lenght recovered. Mary was as
pretty as she was good.
Meantime Masier Cupid who is very
busy iu such cases, gave him another
wound, and there was only one way to
cure it —so very deep it was.
The boatman's daughter became Mad
ame 8.
Her husband rose to be a Lieutenant
General, aud jhe boatmau's daughter be
came as elegant and graceful as any lady
of the couitol Louis Philippe.
A Wife'* Devotion.
A rare example of constancy, courage
and devotion combined has just been furn
ished by a brave young peasant woman,
born and bred in a remote hamlet of the
Yosges France. Marie Hagart, this heroine
in humble life, baae adieu to her husband
some months since, and saw him start for
the great city of Paris in the hope of ob
taining employment there. But almost
upon his arrival in the capital he fell ill,
and being without either funds or friends,
was taken to the Hospital de la Pitie. The
news of his illness reached the hamlet
where his wife lived in course of time, and
the latter, listening only to the promptings
of her heart, determined to join her sick
husband at once. She was utterly desti
tute. To travel by rail was therefore out
of the question, so she started on foot with
a baby in her arms, just two francs in her
pocket, and a journey of one hundred and
three leagues before her. Braving iiardshij s
of every description, sleeping by the road
side or in the fields, and living on what
scraps of food she could obtain on the wav,
she passed onward, pothing daunted, for
the city where her husband lay sick. She
had lost her way several times, her clothing
was in rags, her shoes were gone, but her
courage remaiued undiminished, until re
cently, when, footsore and weary, she
found herself at Chaerl in, when she sank
down in the streets overcome by her suffer
ings, exhausted fiom want of food,exclaim
ing faintly, "Mon Dieul 1 can go no further.
Mother and child were conveyed to the
police station, revived, warmed and tended,
after which the poor woman related, in a
few simple words, her touchiug story,
seemingly astonished that those who listen
ed to her should have be n moved to express
admiration for her conduct. rsons
offered the young woman the assistance and
shelter her forlorn position required, but her
absorbing thought was to obtain news of the
man for whom she had traveled so far.
The police Commissary undertook to satis
fy her on this point, and a few hours later
she learned that he whom she had walked
so many leagues to see had expired in the
hospital ward twenty-four hours before her
arrival.
Clirume Tanned Centner.
There are, or have lately been, on exhibi
tion in Glasgow, Scotland, samples of
leather prepared with chrome, and without
the use of auy tannin whatever. It is
claimed that the chrome process, invented
and patented by a Dr. Heinzerling, is not
only cheaper and more expeditious than the
usual methods of tanning, but that it pro
duces a leather "stronger, more durable,
more pliant, and less pervious to moisture."
The chrome-tanned leather exhibited was
made into belting, harness, boots, and other
articles; and it may be well to suggest that
our leather manufacturers should scrutinize
what may be learned regarding the result,
and if the report is favorable it will go hard
with our inventors but they will better the
improvement.
Where It Was Hot.
Speaking of hot weather," said the old
est inhabitant, as he unbuttoned bis ulster
and laid his plush cap on the table, "1
don't regard it as even pleasantly warm;
I've beeu out iu the sun ell day trying to
get some heat into my system, and I tell
you gentlemen, in confidence, I'm a bit
chilly yet."
"Ever seen it any warmer at this season
of the year ?" asked the reporter.
Wunst. I seen it in the spring of 1814
so hot that you'd think this weather was
an ice box." I was building a telegraph
line in South America, and what do you
think we used for poles ?"
"Iron perhaps."
"Iron? Iron wouldn't stand a minute.
Why, the works in my watch melted
and ran down my leg, aud it felt cool, too,
'cause it was liquid. No, sir, iron wasn't
no more use tuan ice. We couldn't use
wood 'cause it caught fire as soon as ex
posed. so we used salt. We just squirted
a stream of salt water straight up through
a six inch nozzle. The heat evaporated the
salt water and left a tust class column of
salt Theu we made it the right length
by cutting it off sufficiently at the bot
torn."
"But how would you run the wire ?
"Didn't; we jist pinfed it the way we
wanted it to go from the top of a hill, and
thecxpasnion run it right along from column
to coluurn. That's what 1 call warm
weather, that is."
"How fast did the wire seem to go ?"
"About eighty null an hour. We
budi seven hundred miles of teiegraph in
one afternoon." i
"llow did you keep up with t? llow
could you keep a head aud get your salt
columns up fast enough ?"
"Well, sir that was the simplest contn
vance ever was. We had two parallel bare
of railroad iron and a wagon that just fit
the bare. We'rivetid a cross-piece to the
fur'aid ones, aud fastened the wagon to it.
Them bauds expanded lengthways at the
rate of a hundred and fifty miles an hour,
aud carried the wagon right along in its
own tracks. We could head off the w:ire,
get up a pole, hitch on a wire and ketch
up with the end iu no time. I'm sayin',
gentlemen, it was hot in that vicinity,"
But the men couldn't climb one of these
columns ?
"Of ouree they couldu't—wouldn't
ho d 'em."
"How did they take the half hitch
around the insulator ? Did you squirt
theui with the stem ?"
"Not we. You cau't squirt a man up
that way; besides the wkter was bilin' hot.
We had lour thousand tons of quicksilver,
and we put a little on t*Ue ground under a
ni&u, and it'd raise a uian to the top of one
of them poles at the rate of a thousand
miles a second That's what 1 call hot.
Now, I'm just shriverio."
"You must have gauged the quautity of
mercury pretty close to stop in the right
place ?"
"Ob! we got H after a white. The firat
five mt w.ui up five or six hundred mile®,
and one of them had to wait until the fol
lowing winter to get back. We sent him
grub aud things by the quicksilver com
munication until he was froze down, and
we paid him double wages while he wai
gone."
4 Didn't the wire melt?"
"Melt, of course it did."
"Then the. liue didn't stay up.
Deed it did, and that's just what made
it stay up. You kuow heat rises. Now
when wu took latches around the insula
tors, we left the wiies slack so when it
melted it arched up instead of bellyin'
down, and it to ildn\ fall any mor'n a
bridge. The f mniest thing in the whole
busiuess was that when we got through we
had a railroad, them bars of iron made
a smashiu' gxxi road—for summer tra
vel."
"Not for winter, too?"
"Wasn't worth a nickel for winter.
Wheu cool weather came on they contract
ed so there wasn't mor'n a yard and a half
ol the road left."
"Didn't the telegraph wire contract
too?"
4 'Some but not much. It tightened a
good deal, but stayed where it was."'
"Didn't it break ?"
"Couldn't. That wire was melted.
You can't break a stream of water, and
that wire was liquid."
"Look here old man," objected the re
porter, if the winter was oold enough to
coutract the railroad it was cold enough to
freeze tne wire solid."
"Why didn't it do it then ? Look here,
young man, you want to speculate. Now
I got uothin' to do with speculations, I
deal in facts," and the oldest inhabitant
buttoned up his ulster, adjusted his plush
cafl and walked off in disgust.
Central Asia.
Central Asia, properly so calletl, owns a
much larger territory than that to which
the words usually apply. In the larger
sense, it would include the whole of Tur
kestan, Eastern as well as Western, and
some portions of the surrouuding country.
Usually, however, it is now applied only
to Western Turkestan, or as it is sometimes
called, Great Bucliaria. This territory is
bounded on the west by the shores of the
Caspian, and on the ea9t .by the Chinese
frontier, on the north by the widespread
limit of the Russian empire, and on the
south by Afghauistan and Persia. The
area thes covered is probably not much
short of a million of square miies. It is a
vast expanse of deserts, interspersed with
oasis, and with two great rivers flowing in
nearly paraded northwesterly courses until
they fall into the Sea of Aral, which is a
conspicuous feature of the region. These
two rivers, the Amoo Darya and the Sir
Darya—the Oxus and Jaxartes of the an
cients —have their sources in the high table
land which separates Eastern and Western
Turkestan. In the first part of their
course, aud as they leave the highlands in
their rear, the adjoining country is well
watered, and on the fertile plains have
grown up some prosperous cities. On the
Jaxartes stand Chimkent, Tashken, and
Khojend; wh le along the line of the
Oxus, but mostly to the south, and be
tween the river and the Hindoo Koosb, are
Kunduz, Balkh, and other towns, once
the seats of wealth aud civilization. In
the lower part of their course these rivers
run in nearly parallel courses through arid
deserts. The great Kizzil Kum desert
about 250 miles broad, lies between them;
the Kura Kum, another vast desert, ex
tends soutnward from the Oxus, while
the whole region west of the delta of the
Oxus and between the Aral and the Cas
pian is also a waste wilderness. There is
another river, the Zerafshan, which de
scends from a glacier in the mountains a
little to the south of the point at which the
Jaxartes enters the plains. This central
river flows due westward for some two
hundred miles, meandering, in many
branches, forming the oasis of Bokhara and
scattering fertility all around, until finally
its waters are swallowed up by the sand.
Originally the whole of this territory must
nave been covered by vast inland seas, of
which the Aral and the Caspian are the
I relics. In those early days the Ox us, the
| Jaxartes, the Zerafshan would fall into the
sea as soon as they left the mountain region.
Now that the sea has dried up, the courses
of the rivers have been prolonged, the Jax
aites running solid into the sea of Aral, the
Ox us breaking and spreading into numer
ous streams some two hundred miles before
its waters reach the sea, thus making the
oasis of Khiva; and the Zerafshan watering
and rendering fertile the greater portion of
the state of Bokhara, in the upper or east
ern portion of which stauds the grand old
city of Samarcand, the capital of the fa
mous Tiinour. It deserves to be mentioned
bere that in ancient times the Oxus carried
its waters into the Caspian sea. and not as
now into the Aral. Iu those days a narrow
zone of fertility, following its course, ex
tended from Khiza to the Caspian. Home
hundreds of years ago, however, the Kivans
intercepted the current of the river and
turned it southward to the Aral. Its old
bed can still be traced, and the immedia
tely adjoining country, marked by ruins of
ancient settlements, is a perfect desert. The
Aral lies parallel with the northern part of
the Caspian, and to the south of the Aral lies
the oasis of Khiva. West of the lake and
of the oasis and on the Caspian the country
is desert. The whole country to the south
of the Caspian, round by the south of
Khiva, and up the southern bank of the
Oxus as far as Balkh, is also desert. In the
eastern open of this desert there is a small
oa e is on which stands the city of Merv—a
place which, for some tune past, has been
eounnandidg some attention, bucli is the
external aspect presented by this region.
The whole territory was divided into
khanates,of which those of Bokhara, Khiva
and KUokand were the most important.
Hook* Bound In Metal.
Among the handicrafts which iliustrate
the conditions of the arts at various periods
few are more important than boox-bind
ing. A collection of typical specimens of
French binding, from the time of Eve
through that of Le Gascan, Derouie and
Bozerian, to the day of Trautz-Bauzonuet,
would offer & short history of French de
corative taste. A less systematic and al
ready partly scattered, but still interesting
collections of bindings in silver and other
metals is exhibited. The remnants of the
collection includes many quaint European
examples. No. 19 in the catalogue is a mod
ern Russian service hook cover in silver
and enauiel, exceedingly modern and ex
cessively debased. Contrast ninety-four,
a binding in solid silver repousse, with fig
ures of wooien and children, the style
wonderfully free and large. This is an
admirable German work of the seventeenth
century. A strange piece of old Russian
etnbioidery, set with pearls, is 129—the fig
ures of the dead Christ and the women are
not unlike the manner of Margheritene
d'Arczzo. The piece is of the iiifteentii
century, at which dale Russia was enter
taining several Italian artists. A Koran
case of enameled silver (sixty-four) is stud
ded with reds ana greens of a plms&ut
Oriental tone. A truly French piece is the
binding of a book of "exercice tpiriiue
embroidered and painted on silk, with tne
effigy of a pretty girl's face. There are
also some odd old 4 Uuild-books, ' and bits
of Dutch and French enamel, specimens of
a style of binding which has become as ex
tinct as the dodo.
Fight Between a D< g and Douker.
A singular encounter between a dog and
a donkey was that which occurred in JBlack
pxl, England. A retired gentleman,
named Weddington, owned a line young
donkey and a splendid mastiff. One sonny
vay the donkey was grazing in a field,
when the dog rushed at it in a ferocious
manner and fastened on to its nose. The
donkey did not decline the challenge, for
it at once shook the dog off, bit it about
the head and shoulders, trampled on it,
and tossed it about. The dog again seised
the donkey, and a crowd soon gathered,
but all efforts to separate the combatants
were of no avail. The dog repeatedly fas
tened on the donkey's nose. Blood flowed
profusely from both animals, and at the
end of half an hour the owner appeared
up n tlie scene ant fresh attempts were
made to part them, but without s jccesa-
After the fight had lasted half an hour, the
the owner decided to have the dog shot, as
it had by that time fastened with a firm
hold on the donkey's nose. A gun was
procured and the services of a good
shot obtained. But so savage was the
fight that it was difficult to shoot one ani
mal without killing the other also. At last
aim was taken, and a bullet put into the
dog's head, and it dropped to the ground.
When the smoke cleared away the < og
was dead, but the infuriateJ donkey had
returned to the charge kicking, biting and
tramping on the dog. It was with great
difficulty the donkey was at last driven off.
A Sea of Fire.
Among the petroleum springs of Baku,
ou the western shore of the Caspian, now
beginning to be known as they deserve, is
one communicating with the sea which
produces at times a \ery striking pheno
menon. The floating oil that covers the
surface for many acres round is frequently
ignited by accident, turning the smooth
water into a veritable lake of fire. The
most famous of these conflagrations, to
which the superstition of the natives gives
the name of "Shaitann Noor," (Devil's
Light) occurred in the autumn of 1872. it
broke out in the middle of the night, and
was declared by a Russian naval officer,
who witnessed it from the deck of a gun
boat, to be the most striking spectacle he
had ever seen. The sheet of flame waved
to and fro in the wind like a flag, lighting
up the shore for miles, and making every
point and rock clear as midday. Far as
the eye could reach the smooth water waa
all one red blaze, and the deep crimson
glow which it threw into the sky was visi
ble to the inhabitants of several island dis
tricts far out of sight of the sea itself.
LITTLE Johnny— ''MAMMA, em IF
give. Carlo this lump of sugar?" * 4 N. %
myctulci.it pdojU the teeth; en i{
yourself,"
NO. 1.