VOL. LV.
PROFESSIONAL CARDS OF
BELLEFONTE.
C. T. Alexander. C. M bower.
A BOWER,
"ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Office in Gorman's new building.
JOHN B. LINN,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BELLKPONTK, PA.
Office on Allegheny Street.
QLEMENT DALE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Northwest corner ot Diamond.
YOCUM A HASTINGS,
ATTORNEYS AT LA W ,
BELLEFONTE, PA.
High Street, opposite F.rst National Bank.
"YPNTFTC. HEINLE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BELLEFONTE. PA.
Practices In all the courts of Centre County.
Spec al attention to collections. Consultations
In German or Engl'ah.
■YY ILBUR F - REEDER,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BELLEFONTE, PA.
All business promptly attended to. Collection
of claims a speciality.
J. A. Beaver. J. W. Gephart.
JGFIAVER A GEPHART.
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Office on Alleghany Street, North of High,
YYR A. MORRISON,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Office on Woodrlng's Block, Opposite Court
House.
S. KELLER,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Consultations In English or German. Office
In Lyons 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, &.
Q A. STURGIS,
DEALER IM
Watches, Clocks, Jewelry, Silverware, Ac. Ra
pairing neatly and promptly done and war
ranted. Main Street, opposite Bank, M Uhetm,
Pa.
A O DEINIXGER,
NOTARY PUBLIC.
SCRIBNER AND CONVEYANCER,
MILLHEIM, PA.
All business entrusted to him, such as writing
and acknowledging Deeds, Mortgages, Releas- s,
Ac., will be executed wnh neatness and dls
oatch. Office on Main Street.
"TI H. TOMLIN-SON,
-*- * DEALER IN
ALL KINDS OF
Groceries. Notions. Drugs. Tobaccos, Cigars,
Flue Confectloneiles ai d ever> tu.ug iu the hue
of a nrat-class'irocery stirc.
country Produce taken In cxcliaage for goods.
Main btieet, opposite Bank, Mlilhelin, Pa.
PVAVLD I. BROWN,
MANUFACTURER AND DEALER IN
TINWARE. STOVEPIPES, Ac.,
SPOUTING A SPECIALTY.
Shop on Main Street, two houses ca3t of Bank.
MUlhelm, Pernio.
X KISENHUTH, ~~
* JUSTICE OF THE PEACE,
MILLHEIM, PA.
All business promptly attended to.
txjllectlon of claims a specialty.
Office opposite Elsenhutu's Drug Store.
VJtoaEK & SMITH,
DEALERS IN
Hardware. Stems, oils, Pa'nts, Glass, Wa
Paper , coach Trimmings, and Saddlery Ware
Ac,. Ac.
All grades of Patent wheels.
Corner of Main aud Penu street-', Millhelrn,
Penua.
I ACOB WOLF,
FASHION ABLE TAILOR, '
MILLHEIM, PA.
cutting A Specialty.
siiop next door to Journal Book Storo.
JJJILLHELM BANKING CO.,
MAIN STREET,
MILLHEIM, PA.
A. WALTER, Cashier. DAV. KRAPE, Pres.
HARTER,
AUCTIONEER,
REBERSBURG, PA.
laUafactloo Guaranteed.
Site - pilttorii! giwtwl
HOLD UP TOUR HRAO LIKE A HAN.
Jf the stormy wiuds should rustle
White you tread the world's highway
Still against thorn bravely tussle.
Hope and labor day by day.
Falter not, no matter whether
There is suushlue, storm or oalui,
And in every kind of weather
Ho d your hea 1 up like a man.
If a brother should deceive you.
Aud should act a traitor's pat t.
Never let bis tressou grieve yon
Jog along with lightsome h art!
Fortuue seldom follows fawning,
l'olduoss is the ouly plan.
Hoping for a Defer dawning.
Hold yeur 1 ead up like a uian:
Earth, though e'er so r'.ch and mellow,
Yields not for the worthless drone,
But the bold aud honest fellow,
He can shift aud stand al >ne ;
Spurn the knave of every uatiou,
Always do the beat you can.
And uo matter what your station,
Hold your bead up like a man.
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmrnm
Madeline.
All the girls who were leaving school
carried with them anticipations of a gay
winter, a round of parties, balls aud oper
as. Not so with Madeline Delanney. The
dying will of her father made her aunt's
house her home, for the years between 18
and 21; aud if Madeline had been unwill
ing to comply, she would still have gone,
so grt at was her respect for her father's
memory.
Mrs." Chat hard was an iuvalid, and her
family consisted only of her son—a man
over 30, anil said to be eccentric —aud the
old family servinU Decidedly, uot a very
brilliant prospect tor Madeline.
It was a sulieu aulumu day when Made
line rode, for the first time, up the avenue
leading to her aunt's house. She saw a
gray sky, flying clouds, aud a white beaoh
on which the sea beat heavily in,anil stand
iug in the midst of a cluster of piues, was
a low, massive building, thai might have
beeu a prison, aud possibly was a house.
No one came to the door to welcome her.
Mrs. Chathard was in the library, and beg
ged that Madeline would come to her there,
fcihe found her lying ou the sofa, busy with
some sort of Kuiitiug—a sallow, delicate,
fretful woman.
"No," she said, shrinking back, as Made
line showed a disposition to kiss her; "uo
one but Frederick has kissed me fr years.
Don't commence. lam a creature of hab
it; I don't like to be disturbed iu any of
my regular habits. 1 only come down to
day on your account, and it has quite uu
nerved me. 1 shall not try it again. 1
must have perfect repose. Frederic comes
to see me morning aud evening; that is as
much as I can bear."
With that, Madeline was waved off to
her room, where indignation supplanted a
strong desire to cry, and curiosity gradual
ly got the better of both. It was really,
she decided, on looking about her. a pleas
ant room, with crimson curtains and furni
ture, and a deep window looking out on
the sea. There was a bureau, with a great
many little drawers, and she pleased her
self with arranging them mentally. There
was a vase of flowers that spoke of a con
servatory; she had seen that the library
was well filled; a pretty piano occupied a
recess in her room.
"I shall pass my time very tolerably,"
thought Madeline, resignedly. "1 wonder
what my cousin is like!"
Perhaps this last thought had some in
fluence in her toilet, else why should she
have braided her hair and put ou her most
becoming dress? It was hardly to be sup
posed that her charms would have much
effect on the quiet parlor-maid who alone
was m attendance.
Madeline ate her supper w:th curling lip
and a stormy brow.
"He is a barbarian! I know I shall hate
him!" was her inward comment. "He
must have known that 1 would be here.
He might have been civil. However, 1
shall do very well without him!"
And, getting a book from the library
shelves, sbesai heiself down resolutely to
read. But, try as she would, her thoughts
wandeied back to the pleasant room where
she used to sit with her girl friends, read
ing and talking, so different from this
great, silent, handsome house. lam afraid
the contrast was not too favorable, for her
pillow was wet with tears that night.
A wteß paused away. During that time
Madeline s&w Mrs. Chathard once—that
was al. The rest of the time she passed
|n solitude, till Saturday evening, when
the prime old housekeeper entered ihe par
lor where Madeline was sitting, work-bas
ket in hand.
"Air. Frederic is at home,'' said she,
"and Mrs. Chathard thinks it proper that 1
should sit in the room," with which expla
nation she walked over to the extreme end
of the apartment, and vanished behind the
curtains of the bay-window.
Madeline curled her lip slightly at these
prudential preparations, and weni on with
her reading, trying to convince herself that
her heart was not beating fast, tilie heard
a quick, masculine step without in the hall,
heard it come in the room and advance to
ward her, but did not raise her eyes till he
stdod directly before her; She had hard
work to repress her surprise, he was so lit
tle like what she had imagined. Not old
—for if he was really thirty, he by r.o
means looked his age—not tall, thin and
sallow; on the contrary, small,;though well
formed, with an abundance of hair; large
blue eyes that should have belonged to a
woman, so evenly arched were the brows,
so long were the lashes, so soft, so almost
suffering, their expression; clear cut fea
tures; teeth that showed white and even
through his thick mustache; a gentle,
quiet, assured mauner, neither austere nor
frownish, as Madeline had imagined, but
that of a gentlemau and a man of
world.
He apologized easily enough for the ap
parent incivility: "Important business,"
that much-enduring scapegoat, had de
tained him—he was extremely sorry.
Hut Madeliue, who had no patience with
his lame excuses, interrupted him sharply:
"Fray, spare your regrets, it is quite evi
dent that your sorrow is of the deepest dye.
Your countenance bespeaks it.''
Mr. Frederic opened his eyes wide and
sat down. Hitherto he had seemed unde
cided on the question.
"So, then, you are really offended, and
show it after a spirited fashion. Hood! I
shall have to make my peace. It will give
us something to talk about."
"Is there really any necessity for talk-
MILLHEIM, PA., THURSDAY, MARCH 10, 1881.
iug at all?" demanded Madeline, still more
indignantly.
"A few minutes ago I thought uot. 1
intended to have gone through the neces
sary formalities, and after that, to have sat
occasionally with you, byway of keeping
you iu countenance; but now I say yes!
There is souiethiug original about you; it
may be ouly a spark, a glimmer; but what
ever it is, 1 will develop it."
"You leave my individuality out ot ac
count, I think."
"Not in the least. I count ou it for my
amusumeut."
"Amusement! We share the some blood.
Mr. Chathard. 1 think you should kuow
something of the will which is among our
heirlooms. 1 doubt if 1 shall choose to
serve even a Chathard as amusement."
"You will have no choice. You will go
to church with me to marrow. You will
see aud be seen of all the magnates. They
will forthwith call upon you; you will go
to make a round of dreary visits; you will
go to solemn tea 4 driukiugs; you will talk
to Capt. Fauway and Sir Peter Farquhw,
the two eligibleß of the parish; and when
you have talked over the weather, you will
begin to tidget, and wish yourself home
with me Even a bear like me will prove
more endurable than those unmitigated
young men. You will talk with me, and,
in the nature of things, you will amuse me.
Y'ou cannot help yourself."
"I have other resources," answered
Madeline, loftily, "i have arranged a dia
uiatie course of study."
Mr. Chathard laughed.
"Try it, my dear cousin, by all means.
It is a most enchanting thing in the world
—in prospect. Try It, 1 say again; and
remember, 1 shall be very happy to aid
you if auy difficulty occurs—which, though
it is to be presumed, is not possible."
With which be took biuiselt on, leaving
Madeline, piqued aud cm ions. She had
ample time, however, to recover herself,
and proceed with her studies. It was three
mortal weeks before he presented himself
again. Wiieu he did come, it wus iu a
ghostly fashion. She was bending over a
book, and looking weary and strangely dis
satistied. He gave her a chair near him.
"Talk!" he said imperatively. "1 am
bored. M
Madeline's hot blood leaped up in revolt.
Words hovered on her lips, that, cool as
he was, could not but.have placed an effec
tual hairier betwceu them. Something ar
rested them. A pained look was iu his
eye, anguish about his mouth, showing
dimly through the mask of cynicism. A
new impulse possessed her.
"Cousin," she satd, gentle enougU.
"Why should we be at war? We are of
the same blo~d; and 1 think we are alike
in oue thing at least —tliat we are both
aione. Why goad each other with bitter
words? Would it not be better to help
eacii other? 1 don't ask nor offer auy con
fidence; ouly if there could be a liking and
a friendship between us, let it develop it
self. Let us not hinder it. lam so lone
ly; and I think, if you would let me, tha*.
1 should like you."
"I swore once," he said, "never to trust
mankind, still less womankind, again."
' Unsay the rash oath," she said eagerly.
"It shuts you from all happiucss and good
uess."
"How dare you ask me? Iu whom shall
1 trust?"
"In me?"
"A girl—a child, that doesn't know even
the meaning of things about her, much less
her own heart?"
"I know oue thing; the truth that I feel
within me. That never tiies, and never
fails. Only try me, cousin. # I long to do
you gooc 1 ."
"I believe you do," he said much sof
tened. "I believe, with all of my inno
cent fervor, you do wish it. 1 will trust
till I see that you, too, are going to deceive
me. Will you take the responsibility?*'
Madeline held out her hand, and so there
was a truce between them. Every night
they studied and talked under the super
vision of the prim housekeeper; and at
last he fell into away of taking a morning
walk with her in the garden, and riding
with her to several parties, and always to
church; and the neighborhood held up its
bands in astonishment.
Months passed away. Very peaceful,
happy ones they were. But one evening
he failed to make his appearance. All the
next day Madeline watched for him, but in
vain.
"He has gone away," she thought, with
a keen pang, "and did not tell me."
One week passed—two—three. Sus
pense grew unendurable. She ventured an
inquiry of the prim housekeeper.
"Mr. Frederic is not far away—he's
ill."
"111! Why was I not told? 1 will go
and see him at once!"
"He has the typhus fever, Miss; and
Mrs. Chathard ordered that you should on
no account be admitted, for fear of the in
fection. "
Madeline left the housekeeper without
another word, and went straight to Fred
eric's room. She was not very sure of its
locality; for it was in the other wing of
the house, a place where she had never
ventured. She was, however, exceedingly
doubtful of the propriety of going in at all;
but if he should die without her, would
propriety cor sole her? She went in trem
bling. He was alone and awake. He
turned towards her, hollow, reproachful
eyes.
"Are you better?" was the first ques
tion.
"Yes; but why have you left me alone
so long? 1 thought that you cared for
me."
"I do, I do! I never knew. I waited
and wondered", and grew sick at heart. No
one told me, and to-day I asked. I was
too proud to do it before. I thought you
had gone away, after the old fashion,with
out telling me. Then they said 1 musn't
come to you for fear of the infection."
4 There is danger! Go away at once!"
"1 will not. Why should 1 not share
danger with you! All the orders in the
world shan't drive me from you!"
He turned toward her with sudden ani
mation, seizing her hand, looked earnestly
into her face, and said, 4 'My little darling,
I really believe that you love me as I do
you!"
And from that moment he mended, spite
of doctor's physic; and the somber old
house is gay enough under the bJithe su
pervision of the young mistress, Mrs. Fred
eric Chathard. or Madeline.
Boston's original area was 783 acres;
its present territory includes 23,iitil.
—Over two hundred deer were killed
in Forest country during the past sea
son.
A Female* Iron Ata-k.
On the banks of the Marne, close by the
village of It., and about three-quarters of
an hour distant from Paris, stands lite chu
teati of the Marquis of it. It is a very
grand old chateau, built at a time when
every country residence was a fortress, and
tourists travel thilher from afar to admire
its turrets ami its donjon, and its portcul
lis aud, above all, its armory, which is said
to contain ihe finest private collection of
offensive and defensive weapons in France.
There hangs the authentic suit of armor
worn by Francis 1, at Marignan, and a no
less authentic buckler brought back by one
of the uoble owuer's ancestors from Pales
tine, where ouce it had been carried by
Saladin. There, too, is to be seen Ihe
"glaive of justice" before which fell the
heathof the count of Montmorency-Boutte
ville, with illustrious cuissardu and cele
brated brammrds and daggers and rapiers
and cimetars,each with its especial histpry.
But the gems of the gallery are the hel
mets, of which there are Bpecitncns of every
shape and e|x>ch, from the humble morion
of the rcitre to the plumed and gilded
casque ol the knight. In fact,helmets are
the particular hobby of the marquis; who
is, or rattier was, prouder of his collection
than of anything else iu the world, until
he took unto himself a wife, wheu, so long
as tiie novelty of the situation, lasted, she
assumed the first place iu his affections.
But the Marchioness, who was a restless lit
tle Parisieuue, did uot like the village of
K., nor the chateau of K. She found the
ueighbors dull* and saw uo u.ore charms iu
the Muuday eveuiug's game of whist with
the notary, the cure, and her husband.
Time hung heavily ou her hands; she had
nothing to do, aud so looked about her for
some distraction, as she was as much out
of place iu that gloomy old castle as Would
be a canary bird inside of a cannon. She
found it naturally; most people do find
what they want it they seek diligcully and
are aided by the devil, as she was, for the
distraclor appeared 'u the form of Mr. J.
P., the son of an eminent Parisian doctor,
who has a villa in the environs. All
through the summer their flirtatious went
on nicely, if wickedly, but, as usual, the
pitcher went to the well once too often.
One of the servants considerately informed
his master of Maibuue's "carryings on,"
and when Monsieur came in unexpectedly
upon the turtle doves last Wednesday even
ing he was uot left in any doubt; Mr. T.
P. jumped out of the window and was not
aliot after, the lady dropped upon her knees
and asked for mercy. "Madame," said
M. de R., with a calmness more terrible
Uiau would have beeu au explosion of
wrath, "be good enough to get up and ac
company me." "But this costume." she
ventured to protest "is perfectly appropri
ate, " was the reply aud, like another statue
of the commander, he led the way to the
armory. "It is all over with me," thought
the Marchioness, "he means to cut my
head off," hut they passed by the "glaive
of justice," and never stopped until they
reached the helmet department. Ho far the
prologue. On Thursday morning as the
miik-carts came iu at the Greuelle gate of
the fortifications, their drivers were aston
ished to see a female siltiug ou the pave
ment clad only in a chemise, but Willi her
head surmounted by an iron casque from
which floated an immense plume of ostricL
fealiers. Who was she, wbeuce came she
what was the meaning of tfiis strange ac
coutre.ueui? All those questions were ask
ed, first by the milkmen and then by the
police agents who couveyed her to the
nearest guard-house. The answers came
but were inaudible; from behiud that low
ered visor her voice sounded like the bark
of a little dog at the bottom of a copper
kettle with its cover on. At last somebody
thought that perhaps she might be able to
wnte her story, which, as my readers may
have supposed, is a continuation of the
promenade in the R. armory. Then a lock
smith was sent for, bur he could do nothing
toward ridding her of her cuinbereou head
gear, the secret spring of whose fastenings
is only known to the marquis himself. A
dispatch was posted off to R., but the mar
quis had left—for two years, said the stew
ard, and without giving any address, ex
cept that of his banker in Paris, who lias
not been told yet whither he is to direct
his correspondence. So stauds the affair
now, aud there is no reason to anticipate
its speedy termination. The victim is fed
on liquids through a tube passed between
the bars of the helmet, ai d gets just
enough air to avoid suffocation; but can
she endure the torture until her lord relents?
The steel is so marvelously tempered that
it turns the edge of every tool so far tried
upon it, and the unlucky heroine of this
extraordinary but positively veracious his
tory is not likely to derive much consola
tion from the inscription found upon the
piece of armor, from which it appears that
it is one of the vhefs d'oeuvre of the cele
brated Florentine armorer Ualotti, made
by him expressly for Alphonso d'Este,the
fourth husband of the notorious Lucrezia
Borgia.
Truth and Candor.
A' gentleman who has an office in New
York was recently waiting in front of
St. Fail's for a lew minutes when he was
approached by a mendicant, whose lace
and figure he knew well,Theman came to a
dead halt before him without speaking,and
the gentleman finally said:
"Four weeks ago you asked me for
money to help you to get to Buffalo."
"1 did sir, but the climate there didn't
agree with me and I returned."
I 'Three weeks ago you asked me for aid
to help bury your dead wife," coutliiued
the gentleman.
"That's so; and I buried her according
to programme. Poor old soul! She is now
at rest."
''Two weeks ago you asked me for alms
to help you make out your rent."
"Yes: and 1 paid the rent and have the
burden off my mind.''
'Ope week ago I gave you a nickel to
help you get medicire for your sick boy."
"Soyou did, aud he is now well."
"And what new excuse have you got got
this time to draw ten cents out of me."
".None whatever," was the solemn ans
wer. "To tell you the truth, lam slump
ed for an excuse, though I do need a little
change."
"1 might give it to you for your truth
fulness," suggested the gentleman. J
"Tnat's so, it's a wonder I didn't think
of that. Thanks, sir, I'm glad to find one
man who appreciates truth and candor."
—The pecan crop of Texas just gath
ered is unprecedented.
A Duel with Rum.
A remarkable duel has just taken place
which for its novelty and fearful termina
tion has wt the Parisians agog. Two
brothers, Augustv aud Andre Berni, the
former aged lorty. the latter thirty-three,
both employed iu the great glaas manufac
tory at St. Denis, became enamored of
Adele Verjeri, a cook at IA Villette.
Adele Yergeri is described as a woman of
piiiiu, simple habits, one who had, by dint
of hard work and economy, managed to
save a few hundred francs. In appearance
Adele Is but a humble representative of
France, but she is modest and rctii ing, and
uot given to resorting to ballß and theatres.
She formed the acquaintance of the broth
ers at a baptism. Both, it appears from
the first, began paying her attentions.
Adele Vergeri received the visits of the
brothers with much sang froid. To her
it was amusing to see first one, then the
other, come puffing and blowing in ids de
sire to be first to greet her. Neither would
give in to the other, and Adele had to
escort them both out, as neither would
leave the other alone with her. So terri
ble became the jealously between the
brothers that they would not speak with
each other. It had, however, to be Bettled
at last, as Adele Vergeri threatened that
unless their courtship ceased to be mixed
with hatred she would have to ask the
brothers to desist from calling upon her.
The brothers met. They had parted with
Adele Vergeri, and both confronted each
other in one of the great wine shops of th<
Saint Denis quarters, so appropriately
called by Zola "Asaommoir." They glared
at each other, and their friends saw at once
that trouble was brewing. They finally
motioned to each other to withdraw to a
table. They spoke low, but excitedly;
they smoked quickly, aud the blue smoke
of their pipes was hot. "A duel! Yes, a
duel!" This was distinctly heard, and
then the brothers beckoned to Jules lieiuri
and Alfred Poulier, friends of theirs. They
had decided upon fighting a duel, but not
with swords or pistols. It was to be a duel
to the death. Two bottles of rum, brought
from the cellars of Jacques Barrier's As
soiumoir de iSaint Denis, were put on the
table. Two tumblers were set beside the
bottles, and then this contract was made
by ihe brothers in the presence of witnes
ses :
"It was agreed between the brothers Au
guste and Andre Berni to drink rum UDtil
either is unable to drink any more. The
first who succumbs will consider himself
beaten, and surrender all claims to Adele
Vergeri." The contract was signed, the
bottles tapped, and tumblers filled. At
first the men drank slowly, but as the
liquor began to excite their brains they
fairly poured it down their throats. At
the ninth glass Auguste, the younger of the
brothers, gave a yell of pain and sank sen
seless to the floor. Andre Berni then
arose, and, with a smile on hie face, turned
to leave. Hardly had he reached the door
of the cabaret when he threw up his hands
and fell senseless. He was quickly car
ried to the hospital Tenon, but died shortly
afier reaching it of concussion of the brain
aud paralysis of the heart. August le Berni,
crazed by the rum he drank, recovering
from his fainting fit, ran madly through
the streets, uud has not been seen since.
Adele Vergeri, the humble cook of Sa
Villete, when she heard of the death of
Andre and t e disappearance of Auguste,
merely shrugged her shoulders
Anger.
The Emperor Nerva died of a violent
excess of anger against a senator who had
offended him. Yalentiman, the first Roman
emperor of that time, while reproaching
with great passion the deputies from the
Quadi, a people of Germany, burst a blood
vessel, aud suddenly fell lifeless to the
ground.
"I have seen," said Tourtello, a French
medical writer, "two women perish, the
one in convulsions, at the end of six hours,
and the other suffocated in two days, from
giving themselves up to the transports of
fury." The celebrated John Hunter fell
a sudueu victim to a paroxysm of this pas
sion. Mr. Hunter, as is familiar to medi
cal readers, was a man of extraordinary
genius, but the subject of violent anger,
which, from the deiect of early moral cul
ture, he had not learned to control. Suf
fering during his latter years under a com
plaint of the heart, his existence was in
constant jeopardy from his ungovernable
temper; and he had been ueard to remark
that "his life was in the hands of any
rascal who cbo9e to annoy him." Engaged
one day in a unpleasant altercation with
his colleagues iu ihe board room at St.
George's hospital, London, he was per
emptorily contradicted; he immediately
ceased speaking, hurried into an adjoining
apartment, and instantly fell dead.
When the tit of anger is of long continu
ance, or frequent recurrence, it Irequenily
la} s the foundation of some most serious
and lasting afflictions; thus many cases ot
palsy, of epilepsy, of convulsious and of
madness may be traced to violent auger
and ungovernable temper. Dr. Good cites
the case of Charles VI., of France, "who
being violently incensed against the D uke
of Bretagne, aud burning with a spirit of
malice and revenge, could neither eat,
drink nor sleep for many days together,
and at length became furiously mad as he
was riding on horseback, drawing iiis
sword aud striking promiscuously every
oue who appiouched him. The disease
fixed upon his intellect, aud accompanied
him to his death."
ItuilroHclH in the Hiy Laud.
As a part of the scheme tor colonizaing
the Hoiy Land with Jews, it is proposed
to 11 iug the westeru termmus of the
Euphrates Valley Railway down front Alex
audretta to Haifa. At Alexandrettn the
greatest engineering difficulty is encount
ered at once, in climbing the steep hills
which inclose the harbor. In Palestine a
similar difficu.ty presents itself in the pas
sage of the Jordan Valley. The most fav
orable esti mate of the grade is as follows:
From Haifa the line would follow the
Plain of Esdraelon and rise to its water
shed gradually,only two hundred aud fifty
feet in fifteen miles; bnt then, taking the
wine passage of the Valley of Jezreel to
ward the Jordan,it would fall nine hundred
feet in the next fifteen miles. Thence, af
ter crossing the river, it would have to
ascend to the highlands of the or
Hieromax, at the rate of one hundred feef
per mile and to the unbroken extent of
three thousand feet in thirty miles. It
would then be readily carried to Damas
i cus and Aleppo.
Christmas In Mexico.
A writer lrom Mexico said our Christ
mas festivities or "Posadas" euded with
Christmas eve. Then all devout Mexicans
went to the midnight mass, and the 25th,
which foreigners regard as the day to be
commemorated, was celebrated by the dif
ferent foreign tribes in Mexico according
to ihe customs of their respective coun
tries. The Posadas were unusually ani
mated this year. As those who have
never visited Mexico may not comprehend
the word, allow me to give a short descrip
tion of these semi-religious festivala The
idea is to represent the nine days' journey
of the Virgin Mary and St. Joseph, when,
by order of Ctesar, they went to Jerusalem
to be taxed aud could not find lodgings on
the route, but were forced to seek shelter
in a suble in Bethlehem. These Posadas
are held for nine nights, usually in the
house of the eldest representative of a
family. A landscape, representing a
louely road through a Wily country, made
of mimic rocks, trees, moss and sand, is
arranged on a litter, wax figures of the
Virgin on a mule, tit Joseph, staff in hand,
walking beside her, an angel guiding them,
being placed on it, and this is borne by
four young children. In rich families
those who carry the litter are dressed as
a age Is, have wings of gauze, white satin
dresses and slippers, and are attended by
maids of honor carrying large wax candles
in silver candlesticks. Next follow the
musicians, and then come the elders of the
family, the guests, eh ldren and servants
from the head-nurse down to the scullion
and stable-boy, each bearing a lighted
taper and all chanting the "Litany to the
Virgin Mother;" the "Ora pro nobis" is
sung by the musicians and male "pete
grinos" (pilgrims.) This procession makes
the tour of the house (passing through
ante-rooms, corridors, etc.) then a certain
number (accompanied by half of the musi
cians; represent a family dwelling in Beth
lehem, and entering a room lock the door,
and oue man who personates St Joseph
knocks, asking for admission (he sings his
part and if accompanied by musicians),
stating 'The night is dark and coid, the
wind blows fiercely and my wife is ex
hausted by a long day's journey." The
chorus within harshly refuse the pilgrims
admission. Ht. Joseph pleads pathetically
but vainly. Finally he exclaims: "Alas!
Mary, the mother of the Messiah, has not
where to lay her head." At the mention
of her name the doors fly open, the pil
grims are welcomed with songs and many
demonstrations of respect, rockets are
fired, and the image of ,4 the illustrious
one" is removed from the litter and placed
under a canopy. There is usually in this
room a "nacimiento," or on which
is placed a representation of the birih of
Christ in the stable of Bethlehem; some
times other wax and pasteboard figures of
4 the shepherds who watched their fiocks
by night," the Wise Men of the East, etc.,
are beautifully arranged with green boughs
and colored tapers. After the guests and
children have duly admired these scenes
connected with the advent, all higtea down
to the patio (court-yard), where a large
olla (an earthenware jar or vase covered
with tinsel, various colored papers or flow
ers and ribbons) is suspended from a rope
and filled with candies; a large circle is
formed around the olla, the children are
by turns blindfolded, led a short distance
from the spot, then a stick is given each.
One after the other attacks the olla. and
be or she who breaks it is the hero or
heroine of the evening, but the scattered
sweets are left for the servants. Imme
diately after this the family and visitors
retire to the ditiing-room, where benbons,
toyß and little souvenirs of the evening are
distributed. As a crowning finale there is
dancing and music in the parlor, while the
servants amuse themselves in the court
yard performing the Jarobe, the jota Ara
goucsa or some Indian dances. The poor
est family in Mexico manages to have
Posadas. Recently your correspondent,
accompauied by three friends, ascended to
the roof of a building and, like Asmodeus,
looked down thence into the patio of &u
adjoining house, when the porter and por
teresses were having their Posada. The
majority of their guests were waiters and
musicians of the lower classes, but they
sang the Litany to the Virgin with thrill
ing effect. Our party was, of course in
ns ble, and, looking upon these Mevicans
from the height upon which we stood, the
starry heavens above us, the earnestness
of the peregnnoa, or pilgr nis, in their
chant, mingling with recollections of home,
s) moved me that only the presence of a
cynical Spaniard and a light-headed Ameri
can girl prevented me from kneeling to
thank the Savior for the atonement he
made for us. Strangers here term these
Posatas *'puerile," "half-barbarous,'' etc.
Even the most rigid Puritans or "Free
thinkers" often are moved by the music
And toe general effect.
The Beautiful Ga et.
Speaking of the gates of Jerusalem, a
correspondent says: Tradition mentions
several that are now to be found—such as
the Old Gate, Ephraim's Gate, the Valley
Gate, the Prison Gate, the Fish Gate, and
others. At present there are but four that
cau be opened, although four others are
distinctly seeu walled up. The gates now
open are those of Jaffa, of Damascus, of
St. Stephen, and of David—one in each of
the four walls. The Jaffa gate is north
west of Mountain Zion, and is the usual
entrance for pilgrims from Christian lands.
It is composed of tall towers or buttresses,
evidently of great strengtn, and easily de
fended against ancient modes of warfare.
The gates proper consist of two large fold
ing doors in one of which is a wicket called
"the Needle's Eye," which is just large
enough to admit a camel without any load
on its back, whence comes, 1 suppose, the
scriptural adage about the difficulty of a
camel going through the eye of a needle.
I asked what significance the natives at
tached to this, and was gravely told that,
inasmuch as a camel cannot possibly pass
through it while carryiig any portion of a
load, similarly a rich man cannot pass
through the wicket of the heavenly Jeru
salem until he has entirely unloaded him
self of his riches and other earthly bur
dens.
The three other gates are of similar con •
struction, with strong turrets. But they
are all wonderfully striking to the eye, in
their quaint and now useless ponderolio
ness, albeit conveying a profound impres
sion of the ancient strength of the city, and
of the difficulty of its Gapture by Moslem
or Crusader. Nowadays, one or two of
our big guns would effect a breach in a
few minutes.
Railway Building In 1880,
There were seven thousand two hundred
and seven miles of road laid in the United
States during the past year, one-third more
than in 1870, and nearly three times as
great as the line of new track laid down in
1878. While in 1879 the building of rail
ways absorbed $95,000,000 of capital, the
new roads constructed in 1880 absorbed
$146,000,000. 11 would appear at a glance
at these llgures that the country was to be
congratulated upon the wonderful exten
sion of our railway system, but the impor
tant question arises as to whether this im
mense capital can be withdrawn from our
trade and industries without effecting them
seriously. It is stated that the money in
vested in these new roads is m many case*
done for the purpose of building rival lines,
which must of necessity diminish the earn
ings of roads already in operation and that
by diverting even a portion of the traffic to
the new costing say $20,000 a mile,
the enterprise may be made profitable, but
only by with-drawing tbe earnings from
the road previously in operation and repre
senting a stock and bond value of SIOO,OOO
per mile. Thus it the new road succeeds
it can only do so at the cost of crippling
its older rival, and this condition of affairs,
it is said, obtains to a much greater extent
than is generally supposed; and it is agreed
that while the $145,000,000 invested in
new railway enterprises during the year
may prove profitable to the investors,it can
only do so by interfering,at least for years,
with the earnings of the competing lima,
representing a capital of $290,00J,000, to
such an extent as to seriousiy affect the in
terests of their stock and bondholders. In
cases where the new hues penetrate into
fields that U*ve not already been occupied,
of course this argument does not hold good
but it is also certain that in such cases no
profits are returned for years, and the capi
tal is thus virtually withdrawn from ail
trade industries, and emigration is also en
couraged to new sections of country where *
more capital is "planted" in developing the
resources. O! the road built in 1880 more
than hail of it enters in direct competition
Willi lines already in operation, while the
remainder induces emigration into new and
far-off territory. The question arising,
therefore, is wheather we are not building
too many miles of railway—whether we
can afford to lock up in new lines of road
the immense sum ot $145,000,000 a year*
The subject is an important one and is just
now exciting more than ordinary interest
among capitalists ail over tue sountry. It is
true that money is cheap—cheaper in fact
than ever known in the history of the
United b tales —but it is hardly to be sup
posed that it can continue so if such im
mense drains are to be made upon capital
in the future.
He Knew She Did.
As the morning tnun over the Detroit,
Lansing and Northern pulled up at Howell
the other day. a nice-looking old graadin*
got aboard with her satchel and settled down
for a comfortable ride. A Detroiter was
of some assistance to her in getting seated,
and he presently asked :
4 "Going on a visit?"
"Yes, I'm going down to Plymouth to
see my darter," she answered. "They've
writ and writ for me to come, but I thought *
I should never get started."
'•Left the old man at home I suppose."
44 Yes, William thought he'd better stay
and see to the things at home."
44 Did you have plenty of time to get
ready?"
"Oh, yes. I've been gettin' ready for
two weeks. *
"Sure you didn't forget anything?''
"I know I didn't. 1 packed things up
one at a time, and I know they are all
here."
"And you left everything all right around
the house ?",
"res."
. 44 Your old man knows where to And the
tea and sugar and salt does he ?"
"Yes. I took him through the buttery
the very last thing and pinted out to him
where everything was.'^
"Well, now," continued the man, "I'm
certain that you overlooked something."
"Mercy on me! but what do you mean?''
she gasped.
"Did you bring along your spectacles ?"
"Yes—here they are."
"Did you hang up a clean towel for
him?"
"Yes."
"And put the dish cloth where die can
find it?"
"Yes."
4 4 And rolled up his night shirt and put
it under the pillow ?"
"Yes."
44 And was everything all right about the
cook-stove ?"
4 Marcy! marcy on me! Stop these
kyars this blessed minute 1" she exclaimed,
as she tried to reach her feet. "I ju9t re
member now that I put the knives aud
forks in the oven to dry out and shut the
door on 'em 1 He'll never think to look in
there, aDd he'll build up a big fire aud
roast every handle off before I git to Ply
mouth."
Tne Tab;.
To the Kirghis the yak is as invaluable
as the reindeer to the Laplander, or, in au
other way, as the camel to the Arab. lis
milk is rich or than that of the cow, and its
hair is woven into clothes and other fabrics.
Where a man can walk, a yak can be rid
den. It is remarkably sure-footed; like
the elephant, it has a wonderful sagacity
in knowing what will bear its weight and
in avoiding hidden depths and chasms; and
when a pass or gorge becomes blocked by
snow (provided it be not frozen) a score of
yaks driven in front will make a highway.
This strange creature frequents the moun
tain slopes and their level summits. it
needs DO tending, and finds its food at all
seasons. If the snow on the heights lies
too deep for him to find the herbage, he
rolls himself down the slopes, and eats his
way up again, displacing the snow as he
ascends. When arrived at the top he per
forms a second somersault down the slope,
and displaces a second groove of snow as
he eats his way to the top again. The yak
cannot bear a temoerature above freezing,
and in summer it leaves the haunts of men
and ascends far up the mountains to the
"old ice," above the limit of perpeiual
snow, its calf being retained below, as a
pledge for the mother's return, in which she
never fails.
•—Lancaster cau ooaat of 78 good sub
stantial tobaoco warehouses,
—ln 1851 Wisconsin bad ten miles of
railroads; now it ha 58,133 miles.
NO. 10.