Millheim Journal. (Millheim, Pa.) 1876-1984, May 26, 1881, Image 1
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.