YOL. LY.
PROFESSIONAL CARDS OF
BELLEFONTE.
C. T. Alexander. C. M . uuwvi.
A BOWER,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
BNLLEFONTK, PA
Office in Canaan's new building.
JOtfN B. LINN,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BKLLEFONTB, PA.
Office on Allegheny Street.
QLEMENT DALE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BSLLBPONTX, PA
northwest corner of Diamond.
"Y" OCUM A HASTINGS,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
BKLLEFONTS, PA
High Street, opposite First National Bank.
HEINLE,
ATTORNEY AT LA W.
BELLEFONTK, PA
Practices in all the courts of Oentre County.
Spec al attention to Collections. Consultations
In German or English.
ilbur f - keedek,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BELLEFONTK. PA
All tms'Desa promptly attended to. Collection
or shams a speciality.
J. A, Beaver. J W. Gephart.
JgEAVER A GEPHART,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
BELLEFONTK, PA
Offloe on Alleghany Street, North of High.
A. MORRISON,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BELLEFONTK, PA
Office on Woodrlng*s Block, Opposite Court
House.
JQ S. KELLER,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BELLEFONTK, PA
Consultations In English or German. Offioe
in Lyons Building, Allegheny street.
JOHN G. LOVE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BELLEFONTK FA
Office in me rooms formerly occupied by the
late w7 P. Wilson.
BUSINESS CARDS OF MILLHEIM, A.
Q A. STUBGIS,
DEALER IN
Watches, Clocks. Jewelry, Silverware, he. 5a
pairing neatly and promptly done and war
suited. Main Street, opposite Bank, ELllhetm,
Pa.
A O DEININGER,
* NOTARY PUBLIC.
SCRIBNER AND CONVEYANCER,
MILLHEIM, PA.
All business entrusted to htm, such as writing
and acknowledging Deeds, Mortgages, Helen*' s,
Sc., will be executed wiih neatness and dls>
jatch. Offioe on Main Street
USSEB A SMITH, '
DIALERS IN
Hardware. Stoves, oils, PaJnts, Glass, Wa
Papers, Coach Trimmings, and Saddlery Ware
AC,. AC.
All grades of Patent wheels.
Corner of Min and Penn btreets, Mlllhelx,
Penna.
JACOB WOLF,
TASHIONABLE TAILOR,
MILLHEIM, PA.
Cutting >\ Specialty.
Shop next door to Journal Book Store.
TT H. TOMLINSON,
DEALER IK
ALL KINDS OF
Groceries, notions, Drugs, Tobaccos, Cigar?.
Fine Confectioneries and everything in the line
of a flret-class Grocery store.
Country Produce taken In exchange for goods.
Main Street, opposite Bank, Mliilieim, Pa.
TNAVID I. BROWN,
MANUFACTURER AND DEALER IN
TINWARE, STOVEPIPES, Aa,
SPOUTING A SPECIALTY.
Shop on Main Street, two houses east of Bank
MJllbelra, Penna.
T EISENHUTH,
# JUSTICE OF THE PEACE,
MILLHKIM, PA.
AB business promptly attended to.
t/Ollactlon of claims a specialty.
opposite ElsenJßuih's Drug Store.
M iLLHKIM BANKING CO.,
MAIN STREET,
MILLHKIM, PA
A. WALTER, Cashier. DAV. KRAPB, Pres.
■■ ■ ,
BARTER,
AUCTIONEER.
mmmM.
Iwmiihiwi emmwo.
iit llitlleiitt Sotirmvl
THE VOICE OF NIGHT.
liow bo&ndful the heavens lo>k to-night!
So calm, transparent; and the starry crowd.
Thoee exquisite embodiments of light,
Could ye not almost fancy they were proud
Of their own lovebness ?that they had bliss
Iu beaming forth on such a night as this ?
Forever and forever there Is set
*n the enduring sky a seal and sign,
A. voiceless evidenoe"of God! which yet.
Unchanged shall live when this frail form
of mine
Uath mouldered from the besom of the earth,
Leaving no record of i's mortal birth.
The elements of which we are composed
May perish, they are finite; but the *oul
Bursts from the frame iu which it laid inclosed
Beyond tho grasping reach of time's oou
trol ?
That spirit whioh withiu us swells and speaks,
Shall find the Immortality it seeks !
0 thou, Creator, God! and can it be
That man is heir to thine own glorious
hs&vens,
Tw so ! the light which is sublimity.
The essence whioh is thought by The# were
given !
The fear and heaviness of doubt aro o'er.
1 muse and feel, and trimble and a."ore !
An Unexpected Bequest.
A bright fireside, with f nder and fire
irons shining like gold,windows hung with
drapery of Turkey red, walls of crimson
flock paper, starred over with gold, and a
little walnut stand of books opposite—Mrs.
Milford's parlor was a cabinet gem in its
way. Not that the Milford's were rich.
On the contrary, Merton Milford was a
bank clerk, on a salary so small that it
sometimes l>ecatue an almost insolvable
prt blern to make both ends meet.
Almost, we say, but never quite; for
Lucy Milford bad learned the lesson of
household economy, and it was her pride
to be able to say that they had never been
in debt. Yet Lucy had a woman's taste
and a woman's cravings after the beautiful
and the costly;and on this special evening,
as she sat by the lire leaning one cheek on
her hand, her foot mechanically agitating
the rocker of her baby's cradle, she was
thinking of the possible—the unattainable.
'lf we were only rich,' thought Lucy as
she gazed across the room, Ihow I would
like a Persian patterned carpet, instead of
this staring red and green ingrain. And a
little oil painting, or a bunch of water
colored flowers over the table, where the
map of the city hangs now. And then I
could afford a Valenciennes cap for the
baby, and a real ponson silk for myself,
and 1 could surprise Merton with half a
dozen silk handkerchiefs, and I would send
papa a new meerschaum, real sea-foam,
with an amber mouth-piece and odd car v.
ings on the bowl, and mamma should have
an Indian-bordered shawl, and—
Bang went the front door. Tramp,
tramp, came a well-known footstep along
the hall, with just enough pause to fling
the hat carelessly on the little circlet of
pegs, which in that unpretentious house
hold took the place of marble-topped,
mirror-backed hall rack.
'lt's Merton,'said Mrs. Milford, starting
up; and Merton it was.
'Hallo, fuss,' said Merton, coming in,
flushed and breathless. 'And how is the
little kitten?'
'Kitty is well,' said Mrs.Milford. 'Shall
I order tea, dear?'
'Yes.'
The little maid-servant—Lucy Milford
only kept one—brought in the urn, and
when she had tip-toed out again. Mrs.
Milford looked] her husband in the face.
'Merton,' said she, 'something has hap
pened. 1 can read it in yonr eyes. What
is it?'
'What a little fortune-teller you are, to
be sure,' said he. 'Yes, something has
happened. I've got a telegram from
Fortley, and old uncle Jesse is dying.
Uncle Jesse, the rich old miser. And
Wirt informs me that his last will,made in
a fit of pique against the directors of the
Fortley Orphan Asylum, leaves everything
to us.'
'To us, Merton?'
Lucy drew her breath with a lit tie gasp
ing sound.
'Why, it must be half a million of
moneyl'
'That, at least. We shaU be rich people,
Puss.'
'Oh' Merton, it scarcely seems possible 1
It's like a dream.'
'lt's a dream with a pretty solid vein of
reality running through it, you'll find, my
clear,' said the husband.
'And just before you came in, I was
sitting here and thinking what I would do,
and how I would ornament my home if
only we were rich!' cried Lucy, clapping
htr hands.
Mr. Milford pinched her cheek, and
laughed complacently. Evidently he was
in the best of humor.
'Half a million, Lucyl' said he. 'You
shall have a set of diamonds that will rival
those of Mrs. Merriwell, the banker's wife,
and a real ca-hmere shawl. And I'll order
a pony phaeton for your own driving, and
you—'
'But we shall buy a country place, shan't
we, Merton?' wistfully asked Lucy, the
soft carmine t hadows deepening over her
cheek.
'A country place! What fcr?' said
Merton, a little contemptuously. 'What on
earth should we bury ourselves in the
country for, when we can buy a place at
the West End, and surround ourselves with
all the refinements of city life?'
A shade of disappointment came over
Lucy's face.
'Oh, Merton, I have always dreamed of
a country house,' sighed she.
'With burglars and mildew and spiders
thrown in, eh? Nonsense, my dear, non
sense I The city is the place to live in.'
'And we can have papa and mamma to
live with us, can't we?'
'W—well, 1 don't know exactly about
that,' said Mil ford, thoughtfully stroking
his moustache; 'l'll buy 'em a snug little
place, if you say so, my love; but 1 never
did believe in fathers and mothera-in law
living with their children. Every ho.tse
hold is complete iu itself. That's my
notion.'
'Oh, Merton, how can you talk so!' cried
Lucy in a pained voice.
'Ob, well, Lucy, there's no use in sen
timentalizing ou these points,' retorted her
husbaud, a little brusquely.
'I dou't care to be rich if 1 can't enjoy
the pleasure of my money,' said Mrs. Mil
ford, pouting.
'So you may enjoy them if you only will
be reasonable about it.'
'And I've always thought so much of
having mamma with me.'
'Belter leave off thinking of it then,' said
Milford, lighting a cigar am* leaning bat k
iu a chair, the better to enjoy iu
'I suppose I can have as many servants
as I please, now?' hazarded Mrs. Mil ford,
wisely steering the conversational barque
away from the shoals of dispute.
'Twenty, if you like, my dear,' replied
Merton.
'And a housekeeper, like Mrs. Miller's?'
'Not a housekeeper,' said Mr. Milford,
snaking his head. 'No hue ladies for mc,
disquised as dependents. As many ser
vants as you like, no one to domineer over
them—a proxy for yourself.'
'I will have a housekeeper,' said Lucy,
excitedly.
•No, you will not, my dear —not in my
house.'
•And can we have a cottage at Brigh
ton?'
'Why do you say Brighton?' gravely
questioned Merton. 'To my mind, Puss.
Brighton is nothing more than a hot-bed
of folly and flippery. At Basting's now?'
'1 don't care for Hastings,' said Lucy,
moodily: 'the air never did agree with
me.' Lucy burst into tears.
Mr. Milford got up and strode out of the
room.
'Merton, Merton!' cried the wife, 'where
are you going?'
'To the billiard room at the corner,'said
Milford, hotly. '1 can find friends enough
there, I dare say, to give to me the sym
pathy my wife seems inclined to with
hold!'
Lucy cried bitterly. Iu all the bright
years of their married life they never had
any serious differences until now. Was it
possible that riches were destined to bring
them only a mead of misery instead of the
expected rush of happiness ? Next came
a feeling of bitterness and resentment. She
would show Merton that she was uot to be
treated like a child. He came home, but
Mrs. Milfoid feigned to be asleep. She
did not come down to breakfast next
morning, making an excuse of a slight
headache, the effect of last night's tears,
and Milford ate and drank alone.
'Humph!' commented lie, swallowing his
coffee in a succession of dyspeptic-breeding
gulps "A pretty sort of a life this.'
For three days Lucy cried and Merton
sulked. At the end of that time he came
boms with a curious expression on his face.
'Puss,' said he.
Lucy looked up, her pensive face bright
ening at the old, caressing pet-ii&ine.
'l've just had a second^ telegram —Uncle
Jesse is dead.'
'Poor old man,' said Lucy soberly. 'Do
yon know, Merton, 1 begin to doubt
whether Uncle Jesse's money will do us
any good.'
'1 don't think it will,' said Milford,
'because you see the old man rallied at
last, and made a new will in favor of the
Refuge for Old Men.'
Waste ana Abuse of Flowers.
Masses of flowers on a dinner table are
an anomaly; there is something almost
offensive in the mingled odor of their per
fume and the reek of the dishes and lights.
At a ball they aro not out of place and
keeping ior certain purposes. Hoses,
lilies, carnations, violets are natnral adorn
ments for a young woman, and a bunch of
them in her hand or on her breast is an
appropriate ornament, and the complement
ot her evening dress; but where is the fit
ness, the beauty, the sentiment, the com
mon sense, when she has six, a dozen, or
twenty? Are there twenty persons, or
twelve, or even six, at the same time to
send her flowers which mean more than if
they were of wax or tissue paper,or which
have any more intrinsic value to her who
carries them? Are they witnesses of loye,
or even of admiration? How many are
sent merely to satisfy the demands ot
vanity? At every ball rival beauties carry
bouquets gent to each by the same men.
Many are sent by members of the lady's
family, which takes half the significance
from flowers sent by the same Kinsfolk on
birthdays, or in sickness, or at a time ot
special joy or sorrow. And what is to be
said of the bouquets sent as bribes to women
of fashion by men who wish to obtain their
good offices? And what of those sent by
a man to a woman whom he admires, not
to give her pleasure, but prestige —to
gratify her vanity and retiexly his own!
There is an instance, well-known, in one
of our own great cities, of one man send
ing several bouquets for the same ball, to
console her for a social slight; she appeared
to be unitiated as a great belle and he as
the belle's favorite eavalier. And what of
the bouquets stacked on the front cushion
of a proscenium box, in the blast of the foot
lights and flung, half faded, to a prima
donna , to whom they are already a drug,
who perhaps is hurrying through her part
to leave town by the next train.
MILLHEIM, PA„ TIIUPSDAY, MAY 12, 1881.
An Autumn Night'* Dream.
The year was waning. The leaves of
the churchyard trees hung red and yellow,
or dropped slowly to the ground. The
ivy on the church gables was in flower,
and the honeysuckle on the mossy church
yard had put forth its second blossoms,
Chimney-swallows and house martins con
gregated in scores upon the hcheued
church roof, warming their wings in the
mild Autumn sunshine for flight to glow
ing lauds beyond the sea, and starlings
uiuslercd in hundreds upon the Downs that
swelled around the ehurehynrd in mighty
waves of perfect calm.
But the birds had goue to sleep for the
Might—all except the hooting brown owl—
as a travel-bronzed, travel-stained man
walked over the downs, dragging his feet
wearily in spite of the springiness of the
thy uiy turf, beneath a full moon which
made the shallow little plialk bottomed
sheep pouds flush with silvery ruiiauce. It
was a very still night. Thero was scarce
the faintest sight of a breeze to stir the
bramble sprays. The hootiug of the owl,
and now and then the drowsy tinkle of a
sheep bell were the ouly sounds floating
over the great laud sea of huge waved
peace; but there was no calm in the
traveler's breast.
On he plodded toward the churchyard.
There, after all his wauderings, he had
couie back to And, was his only home, if
kindred make a home; but it was a home
iu which he hear no hearty shout,
reeeive uo clinging kiss of welcome, the
lips of all his kindred were sealed in ever
lasting silence, if not crumbled into dust.
He entered the churchyard by the lych
gate, laid his knapsack on the dewy grass,
and sat down with his back against the
wail in front of the stone their was his
family register.
The cnurchyard was crowded with
graves, but he had goue straight to the one
of which he was in search, because he re
membered the corner where the primroses
and Lent-lilies grew in which his mother
had often wished to be laid, and felt sure
since she had died before his falser, that
tier wish had been gratified.
There was the tall stone, inscribed with
name after name, hers first upon the list,
the latter entries crowded in smilier let
ters.
All his close kindred were buried"Tn one
grave, before which he seated biiiself,aud
longed to be able to roll back the years, to
be again at home respected and Lelove'i,no
stain or shadow of future shame upon his
name, With an intensity that mad* his heart
literally as well as flguiaiively iche. lie
could not weep. The louuta nat his tears
had long been dried up, and, deprived of
thai relief for his feehng% it seemed to
him that he must go mad., lie raised a
wild cry that ranir wearily over the still
Downs. The startled bird* whirled from
their roosting places in the ivy,nnd wheeled
round the ihurch in a blank cloud.
Ere long, however, thef settled again,
and the wy farer was agaiu staring at the
moonlit headstone in hopeless stillness.
Hour aftbr hour the church dock rang
out iu a voice c racked with age, whilst the
moonlight in quiet frolic marked fantastic
time upon the sun dial. The last stroke of
one had just diod away, when the wand
erer started. The headstone fell flat, the
grave opened, and he was in his mother's
ttrins. 'My son, my son,' she sobbed, 'at
last, after these many weary, weary years.'
Aud then from the grave roue brothers and
sisters, some of whom greeted him but
coldly; aud last of all hit father, who
frowned and turned aside without speak
ing.
But the weeping mother made peace be
tween the son and the father whom he had
disgraced, aud the brothers and sisters
whose portions he had squandered. The
years had been rolled back. He was a
young man once more, forgiven after some
mad prank by his father, the idol of his
mother, the darling of his sisters, the model
hero of his little brothers.
The autumn moon went solemnly down;
but in its stead there rose the sun sf spring.
Other graves gave up t heir dead. It was
a May Sunday morning, and the country
side churchgoers, wheu they had come out,
stopped to chat with their neighbors in the
churchyard. The wanderer saw faces,
heard tones, that h-. had not seen or heard
for half a lifetime; but it seemed quite
natural that he should do so—the years had
beeu rolled back.
Instead of mustering for departure,
swallows bad come agaiu from the.r winter
quarters. Blackbirds, thrushes, skylarks,
woodlarks, titlarks, goldfinches and green
finches, wrens and robins, yellowhauiuiers
and whitethroatß, were singing; in the
hanger, sloping down to the pasture tufted
with paigles, more than one night ingale
might be heard. The tuft of the Downs
was white—as if milk had been spilt up
on it—with the flowers of sandwort and
rogation flower, fuize and bee haunted
broom were out in all their glory, the King
Wood was pink and white with the
blossoms of wild pear trees, crabs, and
rowans. The oak, the beech, the maple,
the barberry, the horse chestnut were also
iu flower. The hly-of-the-valley and the
wood sorrel shook their soundless little
fairy team bells in the warm breeze that
had stolen into their cool hiding places.
Forget-me-nots, veronicas, and brooklime
made earth look sky-like with their stieaks
and specks, and patches of brilliant blue in
places moist and dry. Buttercups and
daisies were scattered over the green earth
broadcast.
The strangely united family came to the
leafy lane, at the bottom of which sto >d
the old farm house, in the midst of a few
remnant ricks and straw stacks, looking out
complacently on the springing crops it next
should garner. There was the orehard,
with the apple trees and the old medlar
tree in blossom, aud the walnut and the
mulberry coming out in leaf; lilac and
laburnum, foxglove and flags, columbine
and peonies, were blooming in the garden,
aud over the little moat huug guelder roses
aud elder flowers. The old dog got up fiom
ins lounge on the warm step of the open
door, aud wagged his stump of a tail to
greet the wauderer, but oniy as if he had
been away for a couple of hours, instead of
souie forty years. The leisurely, better
than ordinary Sunday dinner followed,
with its friendly, thounh sometimes eea
sorious gossip about the clergyman and his
wife, and the dress, demeanor, and affairs
in general of the other neighbors that had
been seen at church.
Theu came the lolling about Sunday
af .ernoon, the farm-folk half pleased, half
perplexed, by their spell of laziness; the
wandering through the fields to criticise
their own and their neighbors cuops; the
milking of the eows, the feeding of the
bullocks and horses, the looking after the
calves, sheep and poultry, with au enjoy
ment not felt on other days, because to
those who have few resources to wile away
leisure time the want of oocupation brings
bu' little res'.
At night the father whom he had almost
ruined, the mother whose heart he had
broken, the brothers and sisters whose pros
pects h had blighted, knelt with the
wanderer whilst the mother read their
simple evcutug prayers.
lie had not bent his knee in worship
since he had left home, but it all seemed
quite natural—the years had been rolled
back.
His mother hail given hiinhergxxl night
kiss; he was about to shake hands with
his father, when s idleuly he saw in his
face the frown which he so well remeni
be:eJ—the frown that had driven him
from home. The faces of his brothers and
sisters, so lately so affectionate, again grew
cold; the sweet,pleading face of his mother
faded from his sight.
He shuddered—and awoke in a raw,
autumn mist, with his lips pressed to damp,
failed leaves. Alas! that the dead can not
return again to forgive and to be forgiven.',
A Nowr Deposit,
A tall man, with a squint in his left eye
and a terrible lonir no9e, which was beauti
fully decorated with a red tip, entered a
corner store and demanded of the bartender
if the boss was in.
'Nixie,' replied the bartender.
'At what time do you expect him?'
'Can't say; probably in one hour and
probably not.'
The tall man looked mysteriously around,
and then, in a low tone, asked:
•Can I trust you?'
'Well, 1 guess so.'
The tall man rubbed his hands convul
sively together, aud siud:
'Ail,confidence begets confidence. Then
if I can trust you surely you can—ah !
you can trust me for a drink until the loss
comes in.'
'No trust,' was the laconic reply.
'I tell you I'm a friend of the boss.'
'I don't care if you're a friend of Alexan
der IjL No trust.'
'Do you doubt my veracity?'
'Have you got it with you?'
'Have I got what with me?'
'Your veracity.'
'Yes.'
•Then take it with you aud get out of
here, or you'll not have much of it left
when I get through with you.'
sir I will leave a deposit,' and he
offered to leave his coat, which looked as
if it might have been a tew one in days
gone by; but now, alasl it possessed but
one sleeve, and was half slit up the back.
The bartender's heart was made of stone.
He said he had all the coats he wanted.
Then the tall fellow offered to leave his
hat. It was a high hat, and looked as if
it had descended from old Brian Boru,and
had been worn by every Knight of 8L
Patrick that had ever paraded.
*1 don't waut your coat; I don't want
your hat. You have but one thing that 1
would accept as a deposit," said the bar
tender.
'Aud what is that?' eagerly asked the
big fellow.
'Your nose.'
'Do you mean it?'
'Yes.'
Can it be believed! He actually took it
off aud laid it on the counter. It was a
wax one.
He then explained he had lost his 'good
nose' in a rough-and-tumble fight, and he
hated to part with this one, but when
necessity drives, needs must.
The bartender made no reply, but
placed a bottle and glass before him.
The long fellow said:
'I always thought a good deal of that
noee. We have been a good many years
together, and I have learned to think as
much of it as a brother. 1 hate to part
with it, but I must satisfy the inner man.'
He filled the the glass to the brim and
drank it at a gulp.
He took a second nip aud was about to
help himself the third, when the bartender
grabbled the bottle Drushid the wax nose
from the counter and told hiui to 'git.'
He picked up his nose brushed off the
saw-dust with the gentleness and grace
that a mother might caress tfie fiead of fier
cfiild aud adjusted it in its proper place.
lie had just got to the door as the pro
prietor entered.
He stood for a moment and said:
•Any time you want any noses as a
deposit, you may call on me. At present
l reside at the Filth Av *
lie dodged just in time to escape the
bung starter, which came after hitn with
lightning-like rapidity.
HULKR.
The bung is a homely device, lacking
altogether the symmetry of an obelisk and
having little even of the grace whick corks
often posses*. But its uses are of a most
important kind, and wherever liquids are
coutained in casks and barrels there must
the bung be also. It is almost impossible
to estimate the Quantity of bungs made and
used annually, but the number is well up
in the millions. '1 hey are made of wood
well seasoned, and are cut by machinery
which is patented. In no country are so
many buugs made a9 in the United States,
for nowhere else are the woods which are
used so plentiful. Oak, hickory, spruce
and pine are among the varieties utilized,
aud the bung factories are scattered about
the country in the neighborhood where the
woods used are found. By cutting the
bungs before shipping the cost of transport
ing the waste material is saved. A great
many bungs lor beer casks are sent both to
Germany and England from this country,
not because they are better, but because
they are cheaper than those made abroad.
Bungs are cut by peculiar and ingenious
machinery, which works against the grain
of the wood, tapering the bung with the
grain. In many cases the taper is made
but slight in the cutting, and then the
bungs is submitted to a powerful compres
sion to increase the taper. Bungs of ale
and beer barrels are of a standard size,
measuring 1£ inches, while bungs for oil
barrels arc 2 inches. Whisky barrel bungs
are used over aud over again. Beer and
oil barrel bungs are always picked oat, be
cause hammering the staves to start the
bungs is sure to inju-e the coating of the
barrels.
It is with youtu as with plants;
from the first, fruits they bear we learn
what may be expected in future
A Balloon adventure.
M. Allioth, the editor of the Phare du
Littoral , Paris, gives an interesting ac
count of his adventures in the balloon
Gabriel, on Sunday the oth of March, in
company with Captain Jovis and Lieu
tenant Vivier, The balloon, which started
from Nice iu the morning, rapidly rose to
a height of 6,000 feet. The view was at
first magnificent. The Alps and a great
part of Switzerland were distinctly visible
and the air was warm. But the clouds and
a thick mist soon hid everything from
view, and when by degrees, and in spite
of every effort to prevent it, the balloon
descended, the parjy found to their horror,
that they were about nine miles out at sea,
when they had all along believed them
selves to be going steadily in a northeaster
ly direction. Once or twice the Gabriel
was induced to rise again for a short time,
but it soon returned to the water, and al
though anchor, ballast, bags, boots and
every article of any weight were thrown
from the car. it remained obstinately
wedded to its new element. At times the
balloon scudded along at a great rate,
though the lower portion of the car was
submerged, the water, wnich had at first
only been ankle deep, finally rising suffici
ently high to stop M. Allioth's watch in
his waiscoat pocket, at thirty-five minutes
past five in the afternoon. Night found
the unfortunate travelers in even a worse
plight, and to add to their difficulties, the
car began to rock with the waves, and al
though numbed with the bitter cold, they
were compelled to hold on tightly for bare
life. At intervals they shouted together,
but it was labor lost, and no answer was
returned. At last, to their great delight,
they espied the sail of an Italian craft
bearing down upon them. A boat was
speedily launched, and they were soon on
board, in dry clothes, and making a hearty
supper The ship proved to be the Morosini,
bound from Naples to Cette. The captain
had, it appears, perceived the balleon dur
ing the afternoon and had actually gone
out of his course for several hours in the
hope of rescuing its passengers. But the
balloon sped along much faster than he,
and Signer Penielli was obliged to give up
the chase. The meeting in the dark was
thus pure aecideot. The balloon had
drifted about, while the ship had field to
its course. Tfie unlucky occupants of the
Gabriel were picked up about half way
between the mainland and Corsica, and
but for the timely appearance of the
Morosmi they must have inevitably been lost
As it was M. M. Jovis and Allioth were
terribly exhausted by all they bad gone
through. The party were landed at Villi
franca at half-past nine on the following
morning, and their reappearance at Nice
was the signal for a general ovation, their
friends having despaired of ever bebolaing
them again. As for the balloon, as soon
as tfiey had quitted the car it shot once
more into the air with lightning speed,and
may be careering still, for all any one
knows to the contrary.
An Umbrella Romance,
One day, during the summer of 1819, the
Due de Berry happened to be takings walk
in Paris with his wife, and they were re
turning towards the Elysee, when a heavy
rain-shower came on. The two prome•
naders, being unprovided with umbrellas,
took refuge under a port cochere already
tenanted by a young man with the appear,
ance of & clerk, who had an umbrella. VVhen
the storm had somewhat abated, the Due de
Berry stepped up to the young fellow, and
asked whether he would mind lending the
umbrella to enable him (the Duke) to take
his wife home.
The other was suspicious, and decidedly
objected to parting with his property on
any conditions. The Duke persisted, but
finding that there was no hopes of obtaining
a loan of the coveted object, he asked its
owner whet her, though not having sufficient
confidence in him to lend it, he would mind
offering the lady his arm as far as her resi
dence. The gallant young clerk willingly
agreed to do so, and off the Duchess and
her escort accordingly started.
The latter individual very garrulous by
by nature, soon opened a conversation by
the query as to whether his companion liv
ed in the quarter they were then in.
"Qui# close to here," replied the Duch
ess.
"It is a splendid quarter, raadame, plen
ty of luxury and very comnie tl faut. In
fact, it is the dames* quarter, witn
nothing but duchesses and marquises in it,
with their dresses all worked in gold.
"Quite so."
44 1 don't know whether madame has no
ticed the fact, but generally the less ele
vated a person's grade of nobility the high
er the floor he or she occupies."
"There is some truth in that," gravely
responded the duchess.
"For instance," pursued the theoriser,
"you will usually find vicomtesses and bar
onessess on the fourth floor, and if madame
happened to be a vicomtesse, I would wa
ger that 1 know the floor on which she lives
—the fourth, that is—"
"Not low enough, sir," said the lady.
"Ah, well then madame is very likely a
com t esse."
*'' Lower still," observed his companion.
"Indeed; madame must be a marquise,
then?" queried the astonished clerk.
"My floor is lower yet," replied the duch
ess, who had found it very difficult to avoid
laughing outright.
Just at this moment they arrived at the
Elysee,the guard of course,presenting arms
in due form. The propiietor of the um
brella felt inclined to shrink into himself,
and was beginning to stammer out some ex
cuse, when the duchess cut him short by
thanking him very heartily for the service
he had done her, and slating that she would
not forget it.
The young fellow returned to his em
ployer, a wealthy man of business, and re
counted his adventure, not quite recovering
from the, to him, unexpected effect of the
society of a duchess for the remainder of
the day. Before the expiration of a week
he reeeived from his quondam acquaint
ance of the Elysee an umbrella richly
adorned with silver.
1 Medical Advice.
Dr. Cutter states that the increase of
nervous diseases, decaying teeth, prema
ture baldness, and general lack of muscular
bone strength are greatly due to the im
poverished quality of flour now m use, the
gluten being thrown away in order to make
the flour white. He urges the use of un
bolted flour, and of eggs, milk and butter.
He denies that fish is brain food, or that
Agassiz ever said that it was, and claims
that butter, being nearly all fat, is a better
kind of brain food than any other
Torturing by Electricity.
Pitrk Benjamin. Raid recently the idea of
torturing criminals by electricity is not
original with the Russians. It is a British
invention, and was first suggested about
five years ago by an English mechanical
journal, in commenting upon the execution
of criminals by electric shocks instead of
by hanging. The English writer wanted
to do away with the cat o' nine tails, which
is administered in England togarroters and
other criminals of certain classes, and use
the electric battery, as he somewhat grim
ly expressed it, so as to produce absolutely
indescribable torture (unaccompanied by
wounds or even bruises) thrilling through
every fibre of such miscreants. There was
sn American inventor who had a design
for inflicting this species ot punishment.
He fitted brackets of iron on the arms and
thighs of the criminal, and placed in them
wet springers. When connected with a
current of electricity the shock would by
this system pass thr;ugh the legs and
shoulders and avoid the vital parts of the
body.
"The torture inflicted by electricity is of
two kinds—by contraction of the muscles
I at rapidly recurring intervals and by burn
ing with sparks. The tortures ot old days,
when not done by fire or compression, were
the straining and tearing asunder of the
muscles. Of this kind were the rack,
scavenger's daughter, and the cages of
Louis XIV., in which a man could not
stand up or lie down. The electric shock
exactly reverses these conditions. It pro
duces an enormously rapid contraction in
the body of the muscles at very short inter
vals. The degree of pain produced is about
the same. The force ot the electricity has
to be nicely graded,as a too powerful shock
would numb or kill a man.
"Theother method is by condensing a
numtier of intermittent sparks on the flesh.
This burns the skin, and at the same *
produces contractions of the muscles. If
put to the side of the jaw it would make
every tooth ache."
A distinguished surgeon of whom ques
tions were asked concerning the machine,
said: -'The best way to explain it is to give
you actual experience; then you will know
exactly how it feels. Here is a Faradic in
duction coiL I pull out this tube a little
way. Now let me place tlus electrode to
your hand. There."
• Oh!" exclaimed the inquirer, as a ting
ling. thrilling sensation ran through every
finger, and his hand closed in an iuvoluu
tary grasp.
"Does it hurt?" asked the doctor.
"A little."
"V\ ell, we'll try again. Now, you see,
I puii this tube further out. I again touch
it to your hand and—"
"Whoop!" shouted the victim; "take it
away!" ihe feeling was as if the hand
was crushed in a vise. Every nerve ached
and trembled with pain.
"That hurt, did it# Why, that's noth
ing. Here's something of a very different
sort"
He fastened to one wire a ama.il
sponge, and to the other wire something
like a paint brush, with the brush part
made of fine wire. He put the sponge in
the visitor's hand, and then touched the
back of the hand with the wire brush.
The pain was unbearable. The surface of
the skin was scorched and the muscles of
the hand were contracted in a violent man
ner.
"That is called the electric scourge,"
said the doctor. "If it were dark you
could see sparks fly from each wire.
Imagine the effect if the electricity weie
10 limes more powerful."
"Could any man bear that torture?"
"I think not; any man would confess
under it, but it is a question what confi
dence could be placeu in such a confession.
A man would confess anything to escap;
the agony."
"Wnat could you compare the pain, 11"
"It would be the same as burning alive.
"Would it injure the man?"
"No—not unless the pain drove him in
sane. If the battery was too powerful it
would kill at once. Applied to some parts
of the body the scourge hurts more than on
other parts."
Funeral customs.
Among the most interesting of the cus
toms in country parts of Italy, are those
which relate to tne dead. As a general
rule cottagers, before going to bed, rake
together the embers on the hearth, and
cover them up with cinders. But on the
eve of the Day of the Dead not a spark is
allowed to remain, fire being the symbol
of life. In many places the remains of that
night's supper are not cleared away, but
are left to be distributed as alms next
morning. But a meal is served at night for
the special use of the Dead. During the
darkness tne souls of the departed are sup
posed to flock to the table. In the morn
ing the food is given to the poor. Similar
banquets are still, it is said, offered to the
dead in Russia. But they are tliere ultima
tely enjoyed by the living who have pro
vided tnern. The first person who enters
the church at midnight, holding a taper in
his hand, is believed to obtain the privilege
of freeing a soul from purgatory. Tne
dead are supposed to reveal themselves in
a basin of water flanked by two candles.
The seer is generally an old woman who
holds a taper in her left hand and a linen
cloth in her right, and who places her
neck in the curve of a woodeu pitchfork
the handle of which rests on the ground.
Thus posed she sees the departed.
To Detect Us In Mines.
An ingenioua instrument, termed a 'spark
tube,' for indicating the presence of in
flammable gases in mines, was lately ex
hibited and explained at tue meeting of th i
Manchester Geological Society, by Dr.
Angus Smith. The design of the instru
ment is taken from the old compression
syringe used for igniting tinder, and the in
strument consists of a small brass tube with
glass let in at the bottom, which is closed
up, and a piston and rod fitting closely in
the tube. The air to fce tested is taken into
the tube either from the top or by means of
a stop-cock at the bottom, and then the
piston rapidly pressed down with the hand,
the compression of the air thus effected
with the aid of spongy platinum causing
the gases to explode inside the tube, the
explosion being visible through the glass
let in at the bottom. Dr. timith stated
that the presence of gas down to 2} deg.
could be detected by the instrument, and
as the explosion within the tube, was pur
feetly harmless, he thought the instrument
might afford a useful means lor exploring
gaseous mines.
NO. 19.