YOL. LY.
PROFESSIONAL CARDS OF
BELLEFONTE.
C. T. Alexauder. C. M. Bower.
A BOWER,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW.
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Offlca In Carman's new building.
JOHN B. LINN,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Office on Allegheny Street.
QLEMENT DALE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BELLEFONTE, FA.
Northwest corner ot Diamond.
YOCUM A HASTINGS,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
BELLEFONTE, PA
High Street, opposite First National Bank,
w M. C. HEINLE,
ATTORNEY AT LA W•
BELLEFONTE, PA
Practices in all the courts of Centra County.
Spec.al attention to collections. Consultations
in German or English.
F. REEDER,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BELLEFONTE, PA
All bus'ness promptly attended to. Colleotlon
of claims a speciality.
J. A. Bearer. J W. Gepbart.
JgEAVER A GEPHART,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW.
BELLEFONTE, PA
omce on Alleghany Street, North of High.
A * MORRISON,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BELLEFONTE, PA
Office on Woodrlng's Block, Opposite Court
House.
S. KELLER,
ATTORNEY AT LA W.
BELLEFONTE, PA
Consultations in English or German. OCloe
in Lyon' , Building, Alleghany Street,
JOHN G. LOYE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BSLLEFO3TK, PA.
Office in the rooms formerly occupied by the
late w. p. Wilson.
The whisper ot a beautiful woman
san be heard further than the loudest
yell of duty,
There is very little use in making to
day cloudy because to morrow is like
ly to be stormy.
In memory's mellowed light we be
hold not the thorns: we see only the
beautiful flowers.
A man that keeps riches and enjoys
them not, is like an ass that carries
gold and eats thistles.
The sublimity of wisdom is to do
these things living which are desired
to be when dying.
It is no vanity for a man to pride
himself on what he has honestly got
and prudently uses.
Let him who regrets the loss of time
make proper use of that which is to
ocme in the future.
Ideas generate ideas; like a potato,
which, cut in pieces, reproduces itsell
In a multiplied form.
When a man speaks the truth you
may count pretty surely that he posses
ses most other virtues.
Pleasure, like quicksilver, is bright
and shy. If we strive to grasp it it still
eludes us and still glitters,
That best portion of a good man's
life —his little, nameless, unremem
bered ante of kindness and of love.
If you won't listen to reason when
you are young you will get your
knuckles rapped when you are old.
In the quiet of the early morning we
should laden our hearts with kindness
and good will, for use during the day
To endeavor to work upon the vul
gar with flne sense is like attempting
to hew blocks of marble with a raaor.
Do that which is right. The respect
of mankind will follow; or, if it do
not, you will be able to do without it.
"The book to read," says Dr. Mc
Cosh, "is not the one which thiuks for
you, but the one \vhich makes you
think."
Most historians lake pleasure is put
ting in the mouths of princes what
ttieyhave neither said nor ought to
have said.
If you would be known and not
know, vegetate in a village; if you
would know and not be known, live in
a oi ty.
Heaven's gates are wide enough to
admit every sinner in the universe
who is penitent, but too narrow to ad
mit a single sin.
A physician uses various methods
for the recovery of sicn persons; and
though all of them are disagreeable,his
patients are never angry.
No man, for any considerable period
can wear one face to himself and an
other to the multitude without finally
getting bewildered as to which may be
true.
It is true in matter ot estate, as of
our garments, not that which is larg
est, hut that which fits us best, is best
for us. Be content with such things
as ye have*
the plilllicim IvncKitl
FATE.
' "The sky is o!dueled, the rooks are bsre ;
The .pray of tie tempest is wh te in ar ;
The winds are ut with the >-ea *t piny.
And I shall uot tompt tho t*ea to-day.
The trail is narrow, the woods aro diui,
The panther clings to the arching limb.
And the lion's whelps arc abroad at play,
And I si all uot joiu in the chase to-day.
But tho ship eailod safely over the sea.
And tbe hunters came from the oha-e in glee
Aud the towu that was budded upon a rook
Was swallowed up in the eart quake shook.
Trapped by an llelress.
A cosier place than the big titling-room
at Hillcrest would have been hard to find,
if one had traveled from lauhl's End to
John O'Groat's; and this eventful evening,
when the destines of two worthy people
were about taking definite form—two peo
ple who had never seen each other, and
who had heard of each other so ofteu that
both were curiously eager to meet —on this
important eveuiug ike sitting-room at Hill
crest had never looked pleasanter or co
sier.
A huge fire of loirs glowed like molten
carbuncles in the opeu fireplace; on the
table in the centre of the floor, whose cover
matched the glowing crimson of the carpet,
was a silver stand that held a dozen snowy
wax tapers whose beaming light contrasted
exquisitely with the ruddy glow of Uie
lire.
Beside the table, in a big cushioned
chair, with his feet thrust toward the genial
w&i mth on the hearth, his grey dressing
gown sitting comfortably on his portly
torm, his gold-i iuimed glasses on his nose,
sat the owner and master of Hillcrest, Mr.
Abiah Cressington, rich, good-natured, aud
fond of his own way. Opposite him was
the m'stress of the place-little, slirew-faced
merry Aunt Cornelia, his sister, who,
since her widowhood, has come to Hillcrest
to make her bachelor brother's home as
pleasant as she could.
That she had succeeded was evident by
the way now in which lis looked up from
a letter he had beeu reading—the confiden
tial, kiudly way in which he did it.
"Walter writes a curious letterm response
to my invitation to come and spend a few
weeks at Hillcrest as soou as he gets over
his fatigue from his ocean voyage home,
after his five years' tour abroad. I'll read
it to you "
He leaned over the softly-glowing light,
and began the short, concise reply that
Walter Austin had written from his cham
ber in the Temple:
"You are very kind, indeed, Uncle
Abiah. to ask me down to Hillcrest for as
long as I wish to stay, aud 1 can assure
you that I have been so long a wanderer
that the idea of a home is very pleasant to
me. But when 1 take into consideration
the peculiar importance you propose at
taching to my visit, I am unwilling to ac
cept the invitation. To me the idea of
having my fancies and inclinations put
into harness, and to feel that I am on con
tinual duty to win my way into the good
graces of my second cousin, Mabel, whom
you arc good euougk to wish me to
marry—
Mrs. Cornelia interrupted sharply—
"Abiah, you never went and told our
grand-nephew that you had in view his
marriage wiih Mabel?"
Her tone was energetic, almost repre
hensive.
"Why not? 1 certainly did. I told
him in my letter that it was a chance for
him he'd never get again, and that he
needn't feel under such terrible obligations
to take a fancy to Phil's little Mabel, but to
come down and be cousinly, and if any
thing should happen, it'd be right ail
around,
Mrs. Cornelia knitted vigorously, her
lavender cap ribbons quivering in the mel
low taper glow.
"All I have to say is, you re—a foal,
Abiah! Walter is right. A young man
doesn't like to have his fancies under rein
and whip, and the very fact that we want
him to marry will make him indisposed to
do it. You've made a great mistake in the
beginning."
Mr Creesington looked aghast at his sis
ter's determined face.
"Why, 1 really didn't suppose—"
"Of course you didn't. It's only your
natural stupidity, you dear oid fellow!
Men are all alike. Don't I know them like
a book? And you've ruined your hopes
for Mabel and Walter at the very outset."
Mr. Cressington started discomlittdly.
"1 am sure I mean it all right enough,
Cornelia. • 1 certainly wanted Walter to
know what a little darling our Mabel is,
and what a uice little wile she would make
for any man."
"Yery commendable, indeed; only, if
you had consulted me upon the letter you
send I should have advised you to say noth
mg about Mabel or her charms, or her ex
pectations. I should have simply asked
him to come and see us, aud have left the
rest to Mabel's blue eyes. You see now,
Abiah?"
His lips compressed slowly.
"I iliink I see. And my nopes in that
direction are all ruined."
The si'.ver needies clicked rapidly, and
the snew-white yarn came reeling merrily,
off the ball under her arm.
"Not at all. Leave that to me, and I'll
see what can be done. '1 rust a woman's
wit to get even a blundering o'd fellow like
youiscif out of a scrape."
biie smiled and uodded, and looked alto
gether so mischievous that Mr. Cressing
ton jecame quite excited over her little
mystery.
"Do explain, Cornelia."
And when she explained he leaned back
in nis chair, with an expression of positive
awe and admiration on his face.
"What a woman you are, Cornelia! I
declare, it beats anything 1 ever heard in
the whole course of my lifel"
* * * * ♦ * *
After dusk, a glorious winter day, with
here and there a star twinkling in the pale
gray sky, and the lights and fires in the
Hillcrest sitting room making an eloquent
welcome to Walter Austin, as he stood in
the midst of the home circle, tall, gentle,
manly, handsome aud self-possessed.
Old Mr. Cressington was in his richest
humor as he led forward two young girls.
' Come don't be shy now, Walter, this is
vour cousin, Mabel Cressington, and this is
her good friend and inseparable companion
Irene Vance, come to help to entertain
yon. My nephew, Mr, Walter Austin, girls.
And this is Aunt Cornelia—you remember
well enough, hey?"
And so the preservation was merrily
MILLIIEIM, PA., THURSDAY, MAY 2G, 1881.
gotten over, and Waiter found hiinsrlf at
home in the most pleasant family he had
ever known.
They were remarkably pretly girls, with
deep blue eyes—although Miss Vance's
were decidedly the deeper blue and more
bewitching—aud lovely, ye' O-v-gold hair.
Walter touud himself admiring the style
of Miss Vance's coiffeur before he had
kuown her an hour; and when he wcut up
to his room that nighl he felt as if between
the two, roguish Mabel and sweet little
Irene, he would never come out heart
whole.
"For Mabel is a good little darling,"
thought he, "aud 1 will take Grcatuucle
Abiah's advice aud fall in love wiili her,
aud thereby secure a generous share of the
Cressington estate. Egad! that's a happy
thought!
But the handsome young gentleman
went to sleep and dreamed,- instead of
Mabel's laughing eyes, of Irene's gentle,
tender ones; ami awoke somewhere in the
middle of the night, unable to get asleep
again for thinking of her.
Aud the alter days were not much better.
Despite the golden value of Mabel, there
was something about Irene Vance that
made this headstrong fellow very foolishly
indifferent to the art vice ho had sworn to
follow
"Because, by Jove! a fellow would have
to be marie out of granite to resist the sweet
shy ways of such a little darling as Irene!
And I'll marry her if she'll have me, and
the money and property may go to the —
dogs. I've a head and a pair of hands,and
blue-eyed Irene sball not suffer!"
It was uot au hour later that he met her
in the hal!, carrying great boughs of holly,
with which to festoon, down the walnut
staircase.
"Give me your burden, Irene," said he.
"Why did you not tell me you were goiug
to gather it, and let me go with you? It
is altogether too heavy a burdeu for your
arms to bear."
He managed to get the lovely sprays
from her arms, but it required au immense
amount of tardy effort on his part, and shy,
sweet blushing on Iter's.
"Answer me, Irene, Why didn't you
let me go with you? Wouldn't you have
liked it."
He demanded her answer in the most
captivating, lordly way, and she dropped
her eyes in great confusion.
44 Y-e-s."
"Then why were you so cruel to me!"
"1 am not ctuel to anybody. Indeed I
must go now."
Walter placed hiinsclt squarely in the
way, and was looking down at her rose
tinted face.
"No, you can't go yet. Irene, you are
cruel, or you would never deprive one of
the opportunity to enjoy the blessedness
of your society." His voice lowered ten
derly, and he dropped his head nearer her
golden curls. "You know 1 think it cruel
in you to be so distant, and shy, aud re
served witn me—don't you, Irene?"
e>he shrank away, her lovely form droop
iug like a lily, her cheeks hanging out their
signals of distress aud confusion.
"Oh, please don't talk so to me. Indeed
I must go! Mabel is waiting for the holly,
and she—they won't like it if—"
But she was a prisoner in his tight clasp.
"If what? If they find you and me
talking so confidentially together?"
"No! 1 mean if 1 don't take the holly
at once."
Walter put his arm around her waist be
fore she knew what he was doing.
"Irene, look up. Y'ou shall not go un
til yon let me see in your eyes if you love
me as well as 1 love you! Irene, my dear
little girl, 1 do love you very dearly!"
rihe was silent for one second, and he
saw the quiver of her rod lips. Then she
raised her head slowly, shyly.
"Y'ou love me? Oh, Walter, what will
they all say? Don't you know it is Mabel
you should say that to? lam nobody,and
Mabel is an heiress."
Walter had botli arms around her by this
time, and was looking ardently in her glow
ing face.
"I know Mabel is an heiress, aud a nice
little girl, and I also know you are a dar
ling, my darling—and the only girl I ever
asked to be my wife, or ever shall ask!
Say >es, pet!"
His tones were lew and tender, but tri
umphant.
"And you can deliberately give up so
much for only just me?"
Her wondrous eyes met his bravely now,
and thrilled him with the iove light in
them.
"On'y juit you,my own darling! Why,
you are more than all the world tc me.
Come, we will go tell Uncle Abian at once.
Just one kiss first —you must!''
And he had more than one or two;before
ue led ner, blushing, with tears trembling
on her lashes, like diamonds of a golden
thread, to Uncle Abiali, who sat in his
library with Mrs. Cornelia, industriously
looking over a receipt book. They looked
up in surprise as Walter marched in. Irene
on his arm, a picture of confusion.
"If you please, Uncle Abiah, I want
3 our blessing and cordial consent to receive
this little girl for your niece. I love her,
and she loves me."
Uncle Abiah looked shrewdly over his
glasses at Mrs. Cornelia.
"Well, sister, what shall we say to this
youth's demand?"
A broad smile of perfect delight was on
her merry face.
"Say? Why, tell them yes, and wel
come; aud let them know their Aunt Cor
nelia isn't a tool if their Uncle Abiah is."
V alter looked on astonished, and felt
Irene's hand tremble on bis arm.
"What is it, dear?"
She smiled through her tears as she look*
ed into his inquiring eyes.
"Oh, Walter, I am afraid you will be
angry. lam Mabel after all, aud —and —'
"And you have made love to your cousin
the heiress, in spite of yourself, my boy.
So Hillcrest is a foregone fate, after all,
eh?"
"Don't scold, please Walter!'' Mabel
pleaded, in a low yoice,with her blue eyes
looking into his.
"As if 1 could scold you, my love!
Since I have you, what need I care?"
And Mrs. Cornelia turned over the leaves
of the receipt-book until she came to "wed
ding cake," and avers that she made the
match herself.
Proud hearts and lofty mountains
are always barren.
We should do good to an enemy and
mak him our friend.
The heart ought to give charity,
when the hand cannot.
Pride that dines on vanity sups on
contempt.
The Squirrel a fluid Loaptr.
One reason dtublless, why squirrels are
so bold and reckless in leaping through the
trees is that if ttey miss their bold the fall
wilt not hurt .hem. B*ry species of
tree-squirrel seeos to be capable of a sort
of ludmientary ffying—at least of making
itself iuto a pur chute, so as to ease or
break a fall or u bap from a great height.
The so-called flyng-squlrrel uoes this the
moßt perfectly. It opens its furry vest
ments, leaps into Jte air, and sails down
the steep incline from the top of one tree
to the foot of the ntxt as lightly as a bird.
But other squirrel kuow the same trick,
only their coat-skirti are uot so broad. One
day my dog treed a red squirrel iu a tall
hickory that stood in a meadow on the
aide of a steep hill. To ste what the
squirrel would do waen dosely pressed, 1
climbed the tree. As I drew near he took
refuge iu the topmost branch, and then, as
I come on, ho boldly leaped into the air,
spread himself (Kit npou it, and, with a
quick, tremulous notion of his tail and
legs, descended quile slowly aud landed
upon the ground ttnrty feet below me,
apparently none the worse for the leap, for
he ran with great speed and escaped the
dog iu another tree.
A recent Americas traveler in Mexico,
gives a still more suiking instance of this
power of squirrels partially to neutralize
the fotce of gravity when leaping or falling
through the air. Some boys had caught a
Mexican black squirrel nearly as large as a
cat. It had escaped from them once, aud,
when pursued, had taken a leap of sixty
feet from the top of a pine tree down upon
the roof of a house without injury. This
feat had led the grandnotlier of one ef the
boys to declare that tbe squirrel was be
witched, aud the boys prctooeed to put the
matter to fuither test by throwing the
squirrel down a precipice Six hundred feet
high. Our traveler iuterfared, to see that
the squirrel had fair play. The prisouer
was conveyed in a pillowslip .to the edge
of the cliff and the slip opened, so that he
might have his choice whether to remain a
captive or to take tho Uutp. He looked
down the awful abyss and then back aud
sidesvise— his eyes glistening, his form
crouching. Seeing no escape in any other
direction, "he took a flying leap into space
and fluttered rather than fall into the abyss
below, llis legs began to work like those
of a swimming iioodle-dog, but quicker
aud quicker, while his tail, slightly ele
vated, spread out like a feather fan. A
rabbit of the same weight would have
made the trip in about twelve seconds, tbe
squirrel protracted it for more than half a
minute," and "landed one ledge of lime
stone, where we could aeo him plainly
squat on his hind legs and smooth his
ruffled plumage, after wbtOh be made for
the creek with a flourish of his tail, took a
good drink and scampered away into the
willow thicket."
The story at first blush seems incredible,
but 1 have do doubt our |*<l squirrel would
have made tbe leap safefy; then why not
the great black uquirrehiyna*** its narachute
would be proportionately large ?
The tails of the squirrels are broad and
long and flat, not short and small like
those of gophers, chipmunks, weasels, aud
other ground rodents, and when they leap
or fall through the air the tail is arched and
rapidly vibrates. A squirrel's tail, there
fore, is something more than a flag; it not
only aids hun iu flying, but it serves as a
cloak, which he wraps about him when he
sleeps. Thus some animals put their tails
to various uses, while others teem to have
uo use for them whatever. What use for
a tail has a wood-chuck, or a weasel, or a
mouse? Has not the mouse yet learned
that it could get in its hole sooner if it had
no tail? The mole and the meudow-mouse
have very short tails. Rats, no doubt.
pu their tails to various uses. The rabbit
has no use for a tail—it would be in its
way; while its manner of sleeping is
such that it does not need a tail to tuck
itself up with, as do the 'coon and the fox.
The dog talks with his, tail; the tail of the
'poesuiu is prehensile; the porcupine uses
his tail in climbing and lor detense, the
beaver as a tool or trowel; while the tail of
the skuuk serves as a screen behind which
it masks its terrible battery.
Wedding Fashions.
The old American fashion of the brides
maids, with attendant cavaliers, entering
the i oom or church arm In arm is entirely
broken up, wnd the gentlemen ushers, who
seat the company and wlio manage the
business of the wedding in the church, are
compelled to enter firsi, without the .-olace
of a feminine hand on the coat sieere. But
this change is for tlie better. '
A bride-elect begins, sometimes three
months before her wedding day, to invite
her bridesmaids, for there are dresses to be
made and gifts selected. The groom
chooses his best man and his ushers, of
whom there are generally six. These
geutlemen receive troni hm crava's and
scarf-piua, and tbe groom frequently gives
each bridesmaid a locket. The bride often
gives tach of her bridesmiids, of whom
there are ulso generally six, some small
token of her regard; but net, as formerly,
her dress. Bouquets are always provided
by the bride for her bridesmaids.
The church must be engaged for a fort
night ahead, to avoid the gioomy catastro
phe of meeting a funeral coiling out, which
has happened, and which is, of couise. de
pressing. Tho clergyman and organist
tKith need lime to get themselves in order;
and the florist who is to deeorate the altar
with fresh cut flowers and growing plants,
also needs time; he also should have plenty
of warning.
When the happy day arrives, the head
usher goes to the church an hour before
the time, to see that a white cord is
stretched across the aisle, reserving pews
enough tor the familj ami particular
friends, and to see, in tact, that all details
are attended to.
The ushers should be in attendance
early, to seat people in convenient places,
and good manners and careful attentions,
particularly to elderly people, make life
long friends for these young gentlemen at
the weddings where they officiate. W hen
the bride's mother arrives, the white cord
is dropped, and she is taken to the front
seat; all the family frbnds take their
places near her in adjoining pews.
Then the clergy come uf aud take their
places at the altar, followed by the groom
and his best man, who have been safely
guarded in the vestry room. The groom
looks down the aisle to watch for his
coming bride. The organ strikes up the
wedding march as the first couple of ushers
are seen entering the church door. They
come iu slowly, two and two, followed by
tbe bridesmaids, who bear bo uquets of one
color.
Then the bride enters, leaning on her
father's arm. A very pretty and becoming
fashion is for the bride to wear her veil
over her face, throwimr it back at the altar;
but this is a matter of taste.
The ushers part company, going to the
right and left, aud remain standing on the
lower step of the altar. The bridesmaids
also move to the right and left, next the
altar rail, leaving a space for the couple
who are to be married. The bnde Is taken
by the hand by the groom, who receiyes
her from her father as she mounts the first
step.
The service then proceeds, tho organ
playing very softly until the prayer, when
the music slops, and all join in the familiar
words. Then the blessing is given, the
clergyman congratulates the bride, aud the
young people turn to leave the church, fol
lowed by all the bridesmaids and ushers in
reverse order. .
Maids are in wa&ng in the vestibule to
cloak the bride and her attendants as they
come out from this pageant into the cold
aud dangerous air. This is a great ex
posure, and often leads to trouble; our
churches all need larger vestibules. The
bride and groom return to the house of the
former, followed as quickly as possible by
the bridesmaids, and stand to receive their
friends under a floral bell, or a floral arch,
or some other pretty device. The brides
maids are ranged on either side, and the
ushers (whose place is uo sinecure) bring
up the guests in order to present to the
happy pair. The bride's mother, vacating
the place of hostess for the nonce, stands
at the other eud of the room to talk to her
friends, and to also receive their congratu
lations. Of course her own family are
allowed to kiss tho bride first.
The bride remains at her post an hour
and a half, then leaves the room to ascend
and dress for her bridal tour. Biie comes
down in the quiet dross tilted for traveling
in this country (where the bright blue
velvets aud shiny Bilks which are used iu
Euglaud for bridal trips are not allowed,
probably owing to the tact that our railway
iraius are more public and less clean than
those of the British Isle), and bids her
friends good-bye. Getting into the carnage,
followed by the groom, the young pair are
driven off under a shower of rice and
slippers, which are thrown after them for
luck.
How the Kiimhlwu Hefp Warm.
The Russians have a great nack of mak
ing their winter pleasant. You feel noth
ing of the cold in those lightly built
houses where all doors aud windows are
doubled, aud where the rooms are kept
warm by big stoves hidden in the walls.
There U uo damp iu a Kussiau house,
ana the iuuiates may dress indoors iu the
lightest ot garbs, which contrast oddly
with the iuaas of furs and wraps which
they don when going out. A Russian can
afford to run no nstt of exposure wheu jie
leaves lue house tor a walß or drive. He
covers his head aud ears with a fur bonnet,
his feel aud legs with fell boots liued with
wool or lur, which are drawu over the
ordinary boots aud trousers, and reach up
to iDe Kuces; he next cioa&s himself in a
lop coat with lur collar, lining aud cuffs,
Ue buries his hands in a par of hugeness
gloves of or bear-shin. Tuus equipped,
a.d with the collar of his coal raised all
arouud so tual it muffles liim up to lue
eyes, the Russian exposes ouiy his uose to
the cold air; aud he lakes care liequemiy
to give thai organ a luiie ruu to keep the
circuiatiou goiug. A stranger, who is apt
to forget the precaution, would ofteu get
ms uose It v zeu it it were uot tor the cour
tesy ei the Russians, who will always warn
him if they see his uose "whiieumg," aud
wiil, uuuiddeu, hdp him to chafe it vigor
ously witn snow, iu Russian cities walk
iug is just possible lor meu d mug winter
out hardly so lor lauies. lue womeu oi
t e .o.vei order wear kLee boots; those of
the suopkeeping ciass Beldam venture out
at all; those ox the aristocracy go out iu
sleighs. The sleighs are oy uo means
pieasaut veuicics lor u rvous people, lor
lue Kalmuck coaclimeu drive lUem at such
a lei rilie pace luat they irequeuliy capsize;
out persous uot Ueaiuute ol pluck hud lUexr
uiunou most eujoyulue. It must be added
dial to be spilled out ola Russian sleigh is
tantamount only to getting a rough tumole
out oi a soli mattress, lor tuc very luick
furs iu which tue victim is sure to be
wrapped wdi be euougu to nreak the lain
Tue nouses aud hoveis ol Russian working -
ciasses are us well warmed as thuse of tue
aristocracy. A ttrvcis always the prin
cipal item oi lurmiuie iu .hem, aud these
couvcuiences are used to sleep ou as Weil
as cook iu. ihe iriujick, uaviug uo Lied,
curls himself up ou ins stove a. his lime
loi goiug to rest, sometimes he may be
louud creeping ngut into liie stove a. d en
joying tue dengues ola vapor bath.
nan Materials from Towns.
Nearly every farmer goes to the nearest
village to trade, visit a mechanic, or obtatu
his letters aud papers, at least ouce a week.
He often takes a load to market, but he
rarely brings one home. He can, witn
very little trouble, haul a load of material
that may be obtained for uothiug, aud
which will be of great benefit to his land.
Most village people make no use of the
ashes produced iu their stoves or of the
bones taken from the meat they consume.
Scarcely any brewer has any use for the
hops that have been boiled in his vats, and
the blacksmith hardly ever saves the clip
pings he takes from the feet of horses. All
these materials make excellent manure. A
barrel of sliaviugs cut from the hoofs of
horses, contains more ammonia thau is con
tained in a load of stable manure. Applied
to land without preparation, they might
give uo immediate results, but they would
become decomposed iu time, and crops of
all kinds would derive benefit from them.
They may he so treated that they would
produce immediate results. By covering
them with Iresh horse manure they will
decompose veiy rapidly. They may also
be leached iu a barrel aud the water that
cohered them diawn off and applied to
plants. Water in which pieces of horns
aud hoofs have been soaked is an excellent
manure for plants that require forcing,
it stimulates the growth of tomatoes, rose
bushes, and house plants very rapidly, aud
emits no offensive odors. A vast amount
of fertilizing material is wasted in towns
that farmers could obtain the benefit of
with very little trouble
Our Ideas, like p ctures, we made up
of lights and shadows.
I'll Take a Grots.
Whils the proprietor of the Maiaon
Doree, New *ork,waa standing behind the
counter the other day, catching flies for
currant cake, and wishing that a little of
the business wave that the Eastern papers
say so much about would slop over into his
restaurant, as it were, a young man, with
a beaming smile on his face and a big box
under his arm entered.
"Don't want any sleeve-buttons, nor
nothin'," growled tbe dyspepsia distributer,
glancing at the box.
"No, nor I," said the stranger, affably,
depositing the box on the counter, and re
moving the lid. "But what you do want
is the greatest invention of recorded time
—the restaurant keeper's friend—the board
ing house keeper's salvation!"
"Roach poison?" said the steak stretcher
contemptuously.
"No, sir," retorted the young man, tak
ing a handful of singularly-shaped objects
out of the box. "Something that beats the
phonograph aud tbe telephone all hollow.
1 refer to the "Skiduiore chop!"
"What's that?"
"Why, it's the most economical device
of modern times, and I'll prove it right
here. Suppose you are serviug a dinner to
say a dozen peiaons? Now, how many
chops do vou usually put on the table?"
"Well, about two apiece, say twelve,"
•'And how many are eaten ?"
"llum! about four."
"Exactly—that is about the average, as
our restaurant statistics show. As a mat
ter of course, however, you are compelled
to cook throe limes as much as you need to
make a show. Now, if you could save six
chops every diuner for a year it would
amount to—"
"A fortune," said the man of cutlets ea
gerly. "All we can do with 'em now is to
work 'em over into hashes."
"Peace to your hashes," said the agent;
4 'all this ruinous waste is now preveuted
by the introduction of some dish of the
patent Skidmoie Indestructible Rubber
Chop, put up in packages of one dozen,
and warranted for five years, ' aud the
food economizer exhibited some life-like
imitations of cooked mutton chops.
"Looks like a good scheme," said the
conductor of stews, thoughtfully; 4 'but
dou't the customer ever—"
"Ever tumble? Not iu the least. He
only notices that one chop is tougher than
the other, anu finally get his fork in and
chews ahead. The smaller ones come
higher, as they are made of a little more
limber artisle of rubber, for lamb chops.
Can't be told from the genuine by tne
naked eye. All you have to do is to grease
'em on l>oth sides, warm 'em up a little,
aud serve them mixed in with the others
same as usual."
"beerns like they are about as tender as
the regulation kind," said the reetauranter,
jabbing one with a fork. "Don't they
ever get eaten by mistake?"
* 4 No —no —that is, not now. We did
lose a few that way wlien introduced, but
now that we make the material tougher' it
dou't happen any more unless they will
swallow 7 them whole. Why, here's a speci
men that's been in use iu a Chicago eating
saloon there lor years, night and day, aDd
you can't see the first tooth print m it yet."
"ahat settles it," said the restauracter,
I'll take a gross."
"I thought you would," said the chop
agent, as he too!; down the order and em -
phaiicallv declined an invitation for some
lunch. "I will drop around in a few days
and show you samples of some soft, white
rubber lobsters we are getting up espec
ially for the country trade —matte the best
article of indestructible salad ever known,"
aud he shouldered his box aud walked off
in the direction of Baldwin's Hotel.
Washington's uresUtst.
" Is Mrs. Miller at home ?"
44 She is; walk in."
The modest little room into which the
visitor was ushered contained another
occupant, an elderly lady, who was doing
some washing, and whom the visitor took
for no other than Mrs. Miller herself.
44 Is this Mrs. Miller ?" he asked.
44 0h, no," said the elderly lady. 4 'She's
up stairs."
"Not sick?" said the visitor.
"No, not what you wouid call sick.
She's been ailin' a good bit the last few
days. She's gettin' old now."
"is it true that she s a hundred and five
years old?"
Both ladies smiled. "No," said the
stout lady presently, 44 that's a mistake.
She's only a hundred and four."
"So old as that ?"
"Oh, yes; there's no mistake about it.
The record of her birth is In her Bible,
She was born in 1777.
The visitor was invited up, and, entering
a neat bed-room, saw as elderly lady sit
ting up in bed, with a white cap on and
waitiug an introduction.
In the course of the opening conversation
the visitor remarked: "I've been told that
you are a hundred and five years old. Is
it so?"
44 No," said the old li.dy, emphatically;
44 it isn't true; I'm only a hundred and four
years old."
44 Aud it's been said that you met George
Washington?"
44 1 cooked Washington's breakfast for
him ouce," said the old lady, unconcerned
ly, 44 and after that 1 put bread and butter
in his satchel and he left our house and
went off to fight aud gained the day."
"This is true," said the other old lady,
nodding; 44 she has told us that many a
time."
" Yes," went on Mrs. Miller; "I never
shall forget that time I got him his break
fast. 1 got him such a nice breakfast, pie,
dried beef and things like that, and wheu
he catne to the table the poor old soul
couldn't eat anything but bread and butter.
He said it would make him sick. I never
shall forget that time."
44 Tell about the praytn' in the thorn
bush as you've told us many a time," said
one of the other women.
44 0h," said the old lady, "I'll never i
forget that either. We heard him pray in',
first thing in the morning au' didn't know
what it was. And old Daddy Hines, the
man that I lived with, baid he would go
out and see what it was, and he went out
and there he saw Washington kneeling
down behind a thorn bush near the stable,
and with his Bible open before him a
prayin.'"
44 Daddy Hines waited till he was
through prayin', then he invited him into
the house. And when he went away from
our house he gained the day."
44 But tell what happened when he came
iDto the house S" i
44 Why, when he came in," said the old
lady, " Daddy Hines asked him, ' Why
didn't you come in the house and stay all
night?' he said. And Washington said:
' Oh, well, I was so tired I just went into
the barn last night and I fell down on a
pile of hay, and I haven't slept so good for
months as I slept there.'"
"Then what did he do ?" asked the first
old lady.
"Then,'* said the former acquaintance
of Washington, "he sat down to breakfast,
but the poor old soul couldn't eat anything
but bread and butter, for fear of it making
him sick and keepin 1 him from gainin' the
day.
Alter breakfast I packed his satchel. 1
got pies an' dried beef in it an' he made
me take 'em out. He said: ' Oh, my dear
child, 1 daren't eat anything like that; It
would make me sick. I can only eat bread
and butter. Bo I had to take them all out
and put in bread and butter. I felt so
aorry for the poor old soul that he couldn't
eat anything else. After that he came in
toward Philadelphia, where his' soldiers
were on a high hill
" And did you eve- see him after that ?"
"No,* but I attended his mock funeral at
Pottslown when he died. It was a grand
funeral."
"What hill was it where his men could
shoot down so nice ?" asked the first old
lady.
"The hill," said the second old lady,
" where he gained the day."
All further questioning failed to elicit
the fact of the location of the hill, the old
lady'B invariable answer and her nearest
clue to it bemg always the same—" the
place where he gained the day." Upon
further conversation it was also learned
that she had two venerable pictures, one of
Washington, and one of his wife, in the
form of prints, which had been taken
shortly after the revolutionary war. These
pictures the old lady stated she had given
to her physician, Dr. £vans, of Beventeenth
and Pine streets, who had expressed some
admiration for them.
"If you go f Dr. Evans, he'll show
thein to you," said the second old lady.
A visit was then made to Dr. Evans. On
the walls of his office hung the identical
prints with Washington in snowy cravat
and powdered hair and his wife with high
Elizabethan collar and a stately bodice —
the old cracked frames showing that the
pictures belonged to no present age.
The doctor's account of Mrs. Miller was
that he had known her for five years and
that within the last few months her mem
ory had beeu falling. " There can be no
doubt," said he, "but 104 years is her
right age and that she has seen Washington.
I have seen the record of her birth in her
Bible. Bhe was born in 1777, She has
been married twice, tth husbands and her
first child being dead. But her second
child is upwards of 70 years old. Bhe was
born in Essex township, Berks county."
The old lady's unusual age is evidently
a matter of secondary importance to her.
A few months ago, her phyeican relates,
he called on her and found hsr complaining
of not feeling well. Knowing that she
was addicted to taking snuff the doctor
jokingly remarked.
" See here eld lady, the trouble with ycu
is tbat you use too much snuff. You
ought to break yourself of that habit, for
it may cause your death one of these days."
"No, doctor," said the old lady; shaking
her head, "it isn't the snuff. When I was
a little girl they made me work hard on
the farm, load on hay and grain in harvest
time, and it's that that's breakin' me down
at this age."
Head square
The boys were siuing around in Via
Muller's saloon, Carson City, talking about
hard times, and of course their conversa
tion drifted into the stock market, and the
reporter untied his ears and took notes.
< Don't talk to me about stocks,' uaid a
little red-headed man. 'lf a man was to
give me a point in the d— strap game I'd
hit him right in the nose. I've sworn off.'
'that's the business,' said another ap
provingly.
'Ever since I came to this country,' said
the first spea&er, 'l've Deen buckin' at the
game right along, iosin' all the while.
Stock dealin' is the slickest combination
ever cooked up to rake a man's pocket.
Highway robbery's not a circumstance. If
I was to go down into Sierra Nevada and
see a cross-cut 200 feet long runnin' slap
bang into a solid body of gold 909 tiue, and
when I come out if a man was to offer me
a thousand shares for my old hat here,
bust me wide open if I wouldn't belt him
on the head with a brick and freeze to the
hat. If I ever get taken in again it's my
fault.' '
The red-headed man walked off, leaving
the crowd much impressed, and at the
street corner he overheard a man say to
another:
'She's a buy; you bet your boots she's a
buy.'
'What's that ?' said the bear, pricking
up his ears.
*1 was juit sayin' that Sierra Nevada was
a buy.'
'Really think so ?'
'The boys are taking in all the stock
they can get on Pine street.'
'You don't say so I'
'Fair's got tiie control of the tunnel I'
*. he devil 1'
'Mackay's come back from Europe,'
'Holy Moses 1'
'They've run a diamond drill into the
two thousand, and she's richer'u hot mush.
The true business rolled in sand. Tnis is
dead square—'
The red-headed man heard no more, but
inside of fifteen minutes he was in a law
yer's office getting him to fix the papers
tor a mortgage on his house so that he
could take a thousand shares on a margin
before the next board.
CJhoeolate.
For those who wish t© keep the imagina
tion fresh and vigorous, chocolate is the
beverage of beverages. However copiously
you have lunched, a CUD of chocolate im
mediately afterward will produce digestion
three hours after, and prepare the way for
a good dinner It is recommended to every
one who devotes to brain-work the hours
he should pass in bed; to every wit who
finds he has become suddenly dull, to all
who finds the air damp, the time long, and
the atmosphere insupportable; and, above
all, to those who, tormented with a fixed
idea, have lost their freedom of thought.
To mtike chocolate (it must never be cut
with a knife) an ounce and a half is re
quisite for a cup. Dissolve it gradually m
hot water, stirring it the while with a
wooden spoon; let it boil for a quarter of
an hour,and serve it hot with milk or with
out accoidiog to taste.
NO. 21.