Millheim Journal. (Millheim, Pa.) 1876-1984, March 10, 1881, Image 1
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.