VOL. LY.
C. T. Alexander. C. M. Bower.
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
BELLEFONTK, PA.
Office In Qarman's new building.
JOHN B. LINN,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BELLEFONTK, PA.
Office on Allegheny Street.
OLEMENT DALE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BELLEFONTK, FA.
Northwest corner of Diamond.
ALTORNEYS AT LAW,
BELLEFONTK, PA.
High Street, opposite First National Bank.
C. HEINLE, *
ATTORNEY AT LA W,
BELLEFONTK, PA.
Practices In all the courts of Centre Connty.
Spec al attention to Collections. Consultations
In German or English.
iLBUR F * FEEDER,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BELLEFONTK, PA.
All bus'ness promptly attended to. Collection
of claims a speciality.
J. A. Beaver. J W. Gephart.
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
BELLEFONTK, PA.
Office on Alleghany Street, North of High.
y A. MORRISON,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BELLKFONTE, PA.
Offlce on Woodrlng's Block, Opposite Court
House.
S. KELLER,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BELLEFONTK, PA.
consultations in English or German. Office
• In Lyon's Building, Allegheny Street.
JOHN G. LOVE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BELLEFONTK PA.
Offlce In the rooms formerly occupied by the
late w. p. Wilson.
I an, the Man.
On the way to l'erre ilaute, a traveler,
with the air and appearance of a man who
knew it all, approached the fat passenger,
and said, in the shocked tones of a man of
flue feelings :
"Wasn't it dreadful ?"
"I should eay it was," the fat passenger
replied.
"Did you hear about it?" the traveler
continued more impressive than ever.
"I saw it," the fat passenger replied,
even more impressively.
There was an awkward silence of several
minutes between them, and the traveler
went back to his seat with a discouraged ex
pression. Presently he came forward and
approached the tall, thin passenger.
"Sir," he said, "did you know they
were taking up a collect on lor his fam
ily?"
"I should pause to hesitate," said the
tall, thin passenger. "1 headed the list
with a $lO note myself."
The smart traveler's countenance drop
ped, but he spoke still hopefully :
"Ah, you heard of the sad circumstance,
then ?"
"Heard of it," exclaimed the tall, thin
passenger. "I was mixed up in it all the
way through.
The smart traveler sighed and once more
resumed his seat. His face brightened
up after awhile, and he came to the front
ouce more, laying his hand softly on the
arm of the sad passenger.
"Sir," he said, "did you know the tram
run over a man at the last station ?"
"He was my only brother," suid the sad
passenger in a bashful manner. And then he
# bent his head forward and coveied his face
with his hand
The smart traveler looked really distress
ed. But he rallied by-and-by, and in a last
determined effort he approached the man
on the wood box. Assuming an expres
sion of the most intense horror, he said:
"Pitiful heavens 1 I am faint with fear
and horror yet! Did you know the train
struck a man on that bridge and tore him
to pieces ?'
The man en the wood box leaned for
ward, shaded his mouth with his hand, and
said, in a thrilling whisper, that went his
sing down the car.
"tSh 1 Dont give it away, but I am the
man 1" it seemed to be about time to close
the lodge,
MR. PRIM went nailing, auu on his re
turn told some terrific lies about \bat he
caught. Said sharp to him, "What do you
want to tell such yarns as that for? Tell
something possible, if not probable. Don t
you know that everybody saw that you
were lying?" "Yes," answered Prim.
Then, what the blazes did you do it for ?"
"Why, I wanted them to know I was ly
iug. I didn't want them to think I was
eccentric."
"Is the weather on Mt. Washington any
better or more certain than it used to be ?"
inq lired Pingrey of a friend who spends
his summers at the White Mountains.
"Well, I don't know that it is," said his
fnend; "why do you ask?" "1 heard
that since they built the railroad, the
tourists had a different climb it. That's
all," added Pingrey, as he cut his name in
big letters on the office furniture.
iie ptllbeim §®ifr§al
THE WORLD AS I FIND IT.
They say the world'd a weary place,
Where tears are never dried,
Where pleasures pass like breath on glass,
And only woes abide.
It may bo so—l cannot know-
Yet this 1 dare to say.
My lot has had more glad than sad.
And so it has to-day.
They say that love's a cruel jest;
They tell of women's w lies—
That poison dips in pouting lips.
And death in dimpled Million.
It may la- SO— I cannot know-
Yet sure of this I am.
One heart is found alwvo the ground,
Whose love Is uot a sham.
They say that life's a bitter curse-
That hearts are made to ache,
That jest and song are bravely wrong,
And health a vast mistake.
It may be so—l cannot know—
But let them talk their till;
1 like tuy life, I love my wife.
And mean to do so still.
THK NKW IXM'TOK.
"I think I will try tin 1 now d<x*tor."
Esther Warren spoke in a faint half
pleading tone, sis if she expected to moot
h storm of objections, but somewhat to
her sunrise, her aunt Martha said:
"I would if I wore you."
"Dr. Wyek, it would seem, has tried
his utmost skill fir the last live years,
sighed Esther, wearily, "and 1 get no
bettor. It may bo Dr. Dun will know
of some new remedy."
"I will write to Dr. Dim now," said
Miss Martha. "I will see Robert har
ness up to drive to the town.'
It was a very brief note, merely re
questing Dr. Dun to call upon Miss
Warren at his earliest convenience, yet
Miss Martha's pen traveled very slowly
over the paper, and she kept her head to
one side, lest a tear drop should mar the
neat letters.
Five years before there had been no
brighter, stronger maiden in all Millville
than Esther warren, only child of Rate's
Warren, who had made an enormous for.
time in iron, and held Esther as the
choicest of all this earth's treasures.
At eighteen her father was killed and
she seriously crippled in a railway col
lision.
Her hands and arms were strong as
ever, her brain clear, but her lower
limbs were utterly without power.
Heiress to immense wealth she was
almost a prisoner in her splendid home,
subject to attacks of pain that prostrated
her for days, suffering intensely.
Books, needlework and a feeble
attempt at drawing helped to till the
time; but it was not easy to be patient,
and Esther was not yet perfectly saint
like, although she tried to t>e submissive.
Dr. Dun's practice was small, and
much of his time at his own control, but
he was an enthusiast in his profession,
and gladly took much of the old doctor's
gratuitous practice off" his hands.
He had come to Millville as Dr. Wyck's
assistant, to take his place when he re
tired, but the patients of the old doctor
were a little shy of the new one.
"Ah —yes!" said Dr. Wyck, reading
Miss Martha's note. 'Little Essie IV ar
ren! Sad case,' and the doctor entered
into a long description of the case, sum
ming up in the words, 'Utterly hopeless!
She may live for years, but she will
never walk or stand.'
It seemed to Herbert Dun when he
entered the beautiful room where Esther
Warren spent her long diking hours,
that life even with pain, must be pleas
ant surrounded by such luxury, and the
rare exquisite beauty of Esther's face,
pale, it is true, but delicately lovely,
was a jewel worthy ef exquisite setting.
There was a little flush upcm the inva
lid's cheeks as the new doctor took a
chair beside her, a light of hope in her
large eyes that made his heart ache.
It was not long before Esther Warren
under the grave professional manner,
felt the power of his sympathy, and
found herself expressing more freely
than she had ever before spoken the
hope that filled her heart, fully satisfied
when Dr. Dun said:
"In a case of such long standing I
cannot express an opinion at once, Miss
Warren; but depend on me to give my
my most earnest study and care to it."
But if Dr. Dun could not restore
strength to Esther Warren's crippled
body it was not long before she felt her
life flooded with a new strange happiness.
The hour that the new doctor spent
with her every morning gladdened the
whole day.
He was not a conceited man, and
Essie seemed to him like a child, so that
he was blind to the fact that he was
gaining the heart of the crippled heiress.
So when Martha invited him to spend
some chance evenings there he went.
Essie was to him a patient; one who
called on his professional skill frequently
to care the most agonising suffering: and
if he could also make some of her long,
lonely hours any blighter he gladly con
tributed his liveliest talk, his best tenor
songs, his most courteous manner to the
service.
But he never thought she loved him
until Dr. Wyck answered his application
for a month's holiday.
"Spare you? Why, yes, I suppose I
can get along. But I am afraid I have
made a muddle of sending you to Esther
Warren. Why didn't you tell me that
you were engaged?
"I waited until I could offer Annie a
home."
<<You you couldn't break your en
gagement, I suppose. You know you
could have Esther Warren and her for
tune for asking."
"I never thought of such a thing."
"Perhaps you had better consider it,
Now, tlo not imagine that Emtio has
taken me into her confidence."
"She is as maidenly and modest as lite
most fastidious lover could wish," con
tinued the old doctor; "hut 1 have
known her and loved her since she was a
baby, and I can read her heart. Poor
child."
His sigh was echoed by l)r. Dun.
"Will you believe me if 1 tell you that
1 never dreamed of this?" he said, earn
estly. "Miss Warren seemed to me set
apart by her suffering from earthly pas
sions, and 1 should have us soon thought
of loving a saint,"
"She is very rich."
"Yes, 1 am glad she has every allevia
tion money can give her," said l)r. Dun,
not appreciating the implied hint.
"And Miss Leigh; Is she wealthy?"
"My Annie? Bless you, no! But we
are not afraid. I shall continue to live
here for a few months, because Annie
will select and furnish a house so much
better than 1 can; but it will be the
tiniest cottage."
"Well, you can go," said the old doc
tor, "and take mv best wishes for your
happiness."
But he said it in a dull, heavy tone,
and his face was very grave when he
called upon Esther.
"You must take me back for a month,"
he said, as cheerfully as if his heart was
not like lead in his Ikjsoiu. "My assist
ant has gone away."
Then he looked at Esther's fernery, as
if his whole soul was absorbed ill ferns,
and added:
"He has gone home to be married. It
is quite romantic. A long engagement,
with the wedding jKistiHiiied by poverty
on l>oth sides."
He heard a quick, gasping breath, but
did not turn his head, as he continued:
"What luck you have with your ferns.
My maidenhair will never grow as yours
does. Mrs. Wyck says that raising flow
ers or fenis is a gift. She does not suc
ceed as you do," and so on, and so on,
until a clear voice, low, sweet aud per
fectly quiet, interrupted—
"Dr. Wyck, please come ami sit here
and tell me alwmt Dr. Dun."
Ho told her all he knew.
"I feel very grateful to the doctor,"
Essie said, "for he has been more than
kind, and I should like to make his wife
a wedding present. 1 hope we shall lie
friends."
"I hope so," the doctor said."
"He left her soon after, stopping in
the hall to mutter:
"I had rather face the worst surgical
operation I ever performed than repeat
that."
But Essie made no moan.
Even Martha could only guess her
pain, and before the new doctor returned
to Millville his patient was her sweet
placid self again.
But at the station Dr. Dun and his
happy wife found Robert, the coachman,
waiting with a carriage.
"Miss Esther's compliments, doctor,"
he said, "and will you allow me to drive
you home?"
It was bewildering to be driven to the
prettiest of cottages which was brilliantly
lighted.
A little maid-servant opened the door,
and ushered the way to a drawing-room
daintily furnished, where a note was
laid conspicuously upon the table.
"It was directed to "Mrs. Herbert
Dun," and begged the acceptance of
cottage and contents from the "doctor's
grateful patient, Esther Warren."
"Ours! "the bride cried. This pretty
home is ours!"
And a happy home it proved as well
as a pretty one.
Martha had made it as attractive and
complete as possible, every room hand
somely furnished, and many tritlcs of
Essie's own work adding to its beauty,
and the doctor accepted it with a most
earnest resolution to pay her for it if
skill and kindness could ever do so.
There is no more welcome visitor in
the beautiful home of the crippled heir
ess than Annie Dunn, and if the children
of the pretty cottage ever have a griev
ance, they are sure of sympathy and
comfort from Essie, who stands in the
place of a guardian angel in their hearts.
But there has never come to Essie any
dream of love since she took Herbert
Dunn and his wife into the place of
beloved brother and sister.
Coney Island.
Everybody has heard of this popu
lar summer resort of the New York
ers with its splendid hotels, the Man
hattan, the Brighton, and the
Oriental. It lies directly 011 the Ocean,
and the pure sea air, safe bathing, and
excellent music, make one forget the
heats of summer. The Pennsylvania Rail
road Company, and the Iron Steamboat
Company of New York,have entered into
arrangements by which extra facilities
are offered for reaching Coney Island,this
popular summer resort. These palace
steamers will connect with trains on the
Pennsylvania Railroad at Jersey City,
and land passengers at the Iron Pier,
Coney Island, direct, also at Bay Ridge,
where connection is made with the New
York and Sea Beach Railroad. Return
trips will he made at such hours as will
afford satisfactioii to all visitors to the
island, and enable them to make sure
and close connections with trains on the
Pennsylvania Railroad homeward bound.
The time on this line between Jersey
City and Coney Island will be about
forty minutes. This will be a safe,
speedy, and pleasant route from all
points to Coney Island.
IT Joes n<always follow that a man is
a sculptor because he chisels his tailor out
of a suit of clothes.
MILLIIEIM. PA., THURSDAY, JULY 28, JBBI.
Solving u Tough Problem.
One day Jack Marland, on going to
the gallery of M. Lepage with one of his
friends, found it occupied by a young
man well known as one of the best shots
in Paris; and nu>st assuredly he was a
good shot. He performed all the feats
which tradition assigns to the Chevalier
St. George; he each time hit the hull's
eye of the target at the usual distance,
snuffed a candle with the bull, split a
bullet against the edge of a knife, and
drove a nail into a wall by striking the
head directly in the center with his ball;
aud, in short, by a thousand feats of this
nature proved himself worthy the name
of a tirst-rate shot.
Hi amour propre was roused by tlit*
presence *f Jack, whom the attendant,
in presenting him with the pistol,
quietly said was ulinoMt us good a shot as
himself, but tit each shot, instead of re
ceiving from Jack the tribute of praise
which he deserved, he heard Jack, in
reply to the exclamation of ustonishment
which proceeded from all in the gallery,
say "No doubt, that is a very good shot,
but the result would lie very different,
I've a notion, if he had a live man for his
butt." This incessant calling in ques
tion of his iowers as s duelist, for Jack
had repeated his observation throe times,
at first astonished the "tircur" and end
ed by annoying him; and, at length,
turning round to Jack, and looking at
him with an air half threatening, he said:
"Forgive me, Mr. Englishman, but it ap
peal's to me that three times you have made
an observation disparaging to my cour
age; will you IK? kind enough to give me
some explanation of the meaning of your
words?"
"My words," answered our friend, "do
not, I think, require any explanation;
they are plain enough in my opinion."
"Perhaps then, sir, you will be good
enough to repeat them, in order that I
may judge of the meaning which they
w ill l>ear, and the object with which they
have been spoken," was the reply of the
Frenchman.
"1 said," answered Jack, with the
most |K*rfect natty froid, "when I saw
you hit the bull's-eye at every shot, that
neither your hand nor your eye would
be so steady, if your pistol were pointed
against the breast of a man in the place
of a wooden partition."
"And why, may I ask?"
"Because," answered Jack, "It seems
to me, that at the moment of pulling the
trigger, and tiring at a mini, the mind
would be seized with a kind of emotion
likely to unsteady the hand, and conse
quently the aim."
"You have fought many duels?" asked
the Frenchman.
"Not one," said Jack.
"Ah! rejoined the other with a slight
sneer, "then I am not surprised that you
suppose the possibility of a man la'ing
afraid under such circutuotances."
"Forgive me," said Jack, "yoU misun
derstood me. I fancy that at the moment
when one man is altout to kill another, he
may tremble from some other emotion
than that of fear.
"Sir! I never tremble," said the shot.
"Possibly," replied Jack, with the
same comix.sure; "still I am not at all
convinced, that at twenty-live paces, that
is, at the distance at which you hit the
bull's-eye each, time "
"Weil, at twenty paces?" interrupted
the other.
"You would miss your man," was the
cool reply.
"Sir, 1 assure you I should not, "ans
wered the Frenchman.
"Forgive me if I doubt your word,"
said Jack.
"You mean then to give me the lie?"
"I merely assert the fact," replied our
friend.
"A fact, however, which 1 think you
would scarcely like to establish," said the
"ret cur."
"Why not?" s:tid Jack, looking steadi
ly at his antagonist.
"By proxy, perhaps?"
"By proxy, or in mv own person jx r
liaps, 1 care not which," said Jack.
1 warn you, you would be somew hat
rash."
"Not at all," said Jack, for I merely
say what I think; and, consequently,
my conviction is that I should risk but
little."
"Let us understand each other," said
the Frenchman; "you repeat to me a
second time, that at twenty-live paces I
should miss my man."
"You are mistaken, monsieur," said
Jack; "it appears to me that this is the
fifth time that I have said it."
"Parbleu?" said the Frenchman, now
thoroughly exasperated, "this is too
much; you want to insult me."
"Think as you like, monsieur," said
Jack.
"Good!" said the other, "your hour,
sir?"
"Why not now?" said Jack.
"The place," said the other.
"We are luit five steps from the Bois
de Bologne," cried Jack.
"Your arms, sir?"
"The pistol, of course," was Jack's an
swer, "we are not about to tight a duel,
but to decide a point upon which we are
at issue."
The two young men entered their ca
briolets, each accompanied by a friend,
and drove towards the Bois de Bologne.
Arrived at the appointed place, the sec
onds wished to arrange the matter. This
however, was very difficult; Jack's ad
versary required an apology, whilst Jack
maintained that he owed him none; un
less he himself was either killed or
wounded; for unless this happened, he
(Jack) would not have been proved
wrong. The seconds spent a quarter of
an hour in the attempt to effect a recon
ciliation, but in vain. They then wished
to place the antagonists at thirty paces
from each other; to this Jack would not
consent, observing that the point in
question could not be correctly decided,
if any difference were made between the
ddstance now to be fixed, and the dis
tance at which his antagonist had hit the
bull's-eye in the gallery. It was then
proposed that a Louis should be thrown
up in order to decide who was to shoot
first; this Jack declared was totally un
necessary, that the right to the first
shot naturally belonged to his adversary,
and although the Frenchman was anxious
that Jack should take advantage of this
one chance, he was firm and carried his
point. The "garcon" of the shooting
gallery had followed, and was ready to
charge the pistols, which he did with the
same measure, the same kind of powder,
and the same kind of balls as those used
by the Frenchman in the gallery a short
time la-fore. The pistols, too, were the
same; this condition alone Jack had im
posed, as a nine yua non. The antagon
ists, placed at twenty-five paces from each
other, received each his pistol; and the
seconds retired a few paces, in order to
leave the combatants free to fire oil one
another, according to the stipulated ar
rangement.
Jack baik none of the precautions usu
al with duellists: lie attempted not to
shield any part of his body, by position
or any other means; but allowed his
arms to hang down at his side, presented
liis full front to his enemy, who scarcely
knew what to make of this extraordinary
conduct. He had fought several duels,
but it had never been his lot to see such
win/ J'roid in any one of his antagonists;
he felt as if bewildered; and Jack's theory
occurring to his mind, tended but little
to reassure him; in short this celebrated
shot, who had never missed either his
man or the bull's-eye of the target, lie
gun to doubt his own powers. Twice he
raised his pistol, and twice he lowered it
again; this was of course contrary to all
the laws of duelling; but each time Jack
contented himself with saying: "Take
time, monsieur! take time." A third
time he raised his arm, and finding
ashamed of himself, fired. It was a mo
ment of the most painful anxiety to the
seconds; but, they were si am relieved,
for Jack, the instant after the pistol had
lieen fired, turned to the right aud to
the left, and made a low laiw to tin* two
friends, to show that he was not wound
mi, and then said, daily, to his antagon
ist, "You, see, sir, I was right!"
"You were," answered the Frenchman;
"and now fire, in your turn."
"Not I," said Jack, picking up his hat,
and handing the pistol to the garcon;
"what good would it do me to sluait at
you?"
"But sir," said his adversary, "you
have a right, and I cannot permit it to
lie otherwise; la-sides I am anxious to
see how you sluait."
"Let us understand each other," said
Jack. "I never said that I would hit
you; / said, that you would not hit me;
you have uot hit me; I was right; and
now there Is an end to the matter;" and
in spiti* of all the remonstrances and
entreaties of the Frenchman, Jack
mounted his cab, aud drove off, repeat
ing to his friend, "I told you there was
a mighty difference between tiring at a
doll uml firing at a man." Jack's mind
was eased; he had solved his problem,
and found that he was not a coward.
Kr-1 Archer.
Fred Archer, the man who rode the
American horae Iroquois, to victory at
the late Derby race in England, was
lHru on January 11th, 1856. His family
had always been famous for their powers
of horsemanship, and his father was a
well-known performer between the Hags,
and as recently as 1858, or two years af
ter Fred was l>orn, he rode and won the
Liverpool Grand National upon Little
Charley. Before Fred was ten years old
he showed that he knew how to stick on
a horse, and it was resolved that he
should IH brought up as a jockey. He
was apprenticed to Matthew Dawson, of
the Heath House, Newmarket, with
whom he has remained ever since. At
the early age of fourteen so thoroughly
proficient had he become in the business
that he was given amount on Athol Daisy
for the Nursery Handicap at Chester
field, which he won on Septemler 28,
187b, previous to which he had ridden
and won a match on a pony belonging
to Mrs. Willan Matthew Dawson, and
all connected with the Heath House
stables recognizing that they had a very
promising light-weight in Archer, gave
him every chance possible, and his first
success in any great event was on Sal
vanos for the Cesarewicli in 1872, which
he rode at 77 pounds. In this race he
showed a wonderful amount of ability,
coolness and judgment of pace, which
foretold the brilliant career in store for
him. During the remaihder of that and
the following seasons he did not ride,
but in 1874 he began a series of brilliant
seasons which at the end of 1880 show ed
a total of no less than 1,430 suecessfxd
mounts. As early as 1870 he had al
ready won the confidence of Lord Fal
mouth, and although his riding weight
was little more than 88 pounds, he rode
Atlantic for the 2,(KM) guineas at 122
pounds and won. Since then he has won
all the classic events—the Derby in 1877
with Silvio, in 1880 with Bend Or and in
1881 with Iroquois. With Jannette and
Wheel of Fortune lie took the Oaks in
1878 and 1879. Silvio and Jannette in
1877 and 1878 were his winning St. Leg
er mounts and besides Atlantic in 18741 ie
won the 2,0(M) guineas with Charibert in
1879, while for the 1,000 guineas he rode
Spinaway and Wheel of Fortune in 1875
and 1879, all with the exception of Iro
quois and Bend Or being the property of
Lord Falmouth. Five times in six years
Archer has won the City and Suburban,
viz., on Thunder, Julius Cresar, Parole,
Master Kildare and Bend Or. With
Parole Archer also took the Great
Metropolitad Handicap in 1879. Twice
he has won the Dewhurst Plate with
Wheel of Fortune and Bal Gal, but
singular as it may seem he has never
been able to run a place for the Middle
Park Plate. It is utterly impossible to
mention all the important events Archer
has won, he being alike at home in a
dash of half a mile or at a distance, and
as he is still able to ride at 118 pounds
or a trifle less, he will no doubt be kept
busy in the saddle all the present season
although he went in partnership with
Matthew Dawson last January as a
trainer. If he is as successful as a trainer
as he has been as a jockey he will cer
tainly have a wonderful career. He has
already built for himself a very hand
some and comfortable residence in close
proximity to the Heath House stables,
but is as yet said to be unmarried.
I/ESTRANGE says: ''So long as we
stand boggling at imaginary evils let us
never blame a horse for starting at a
shadow."
TUB young man who wrote and asked
his girl to accept a "bucket" of flowers be
came a little pale when she said she wood
en't ware it,
SI 00.000.000.
For more than three hundred years
the mines of Pachuea have been worked
by the Mexicans—first by the Mexicans
pure and simple, then by the Spaniards
ami now again by Mexicai s who would
scorn tin? name of Spaniard, though his
blood mingles in their veins. Here in
this very town was discovered the pro
cess of amalgamation now in use to-day,
by which ull the precious ores dug from
the mountain are made to yield their
silver. Yes, more, the very hacienda is
still worked and profitably, in which, in
1857, Sciior Medina made that discovery
so valuable to Mexico. Senor Medina
has passed away, it is presumed, but his
memory still lives. The English colony
comprises about 350 men, women and
children, from the mining district of
Cornwall. The first Cornish miners
came here alsmt fifty years ago, intro
ducing English machinery ami modes of
working the mines, much to the lieuefit
of the owners. Some of the original
numlier are still living, though very few,
and all here now agree as to the health
fulness of the climate as a place of resi
dence for English people. Though
some of them have acquired wealth and
some have retired to old England with
enough and to spare, the majority have
earned little more than a living. Pre
carious property arc these mines, except
in exceptional cases. The most note
worthy of all the instances of poor men
striking it rich is that of the Santa Ger
tnnlis mine, which is now "in lionanza."
It had la-en successively worked and
abandoned years and years ago, and was
finally "pronounced"—or taken to work
—by a Cornishman, who has just died.
Forming a small company in 1877, he
commenced active work. After it was
proven that the mine was paying he sold
out his share—nine twenty-fifths—for
315,(HK). Since then, one twenty-fifth
lias sold for 3811,000, the present price
per liana or share. This would give at
that rate 3720,000 for what he got but
315,000 for. The mine has been "in
bonanza" now for three years and is
yielding alsiut 3,(KM) curgas of 300
pounds each of metal weekly, and giving
a clear profit of 31,000 per day. From
June, 1877, to March, 1881, the mine
pr<sluoed 32,800,000 and declared thirty
two dividends of 320,000 each—3o4o,ooo.
■ln June, 1877, there was but one shaft
|of sixty varas—a vara is a little less than
a yard—now the deejiest shaft is 170
varas ; there is a powerful pumping and
hoisting engine, many large buildings,
and idl the appurtenoes of a mine in this
section, all paid for. With all this pro
fit, present and prospective, all the ore
obtained here is sent to be reduced to
Regla, a distance of seven leagues. This
mine, which is located less than two
miles from the center of Pachuea, is
owned principally by men who were
piair at the time they commenced to
work it. There are, it is said, two dis
tinct lodes, running parallel and at less
than fifty yarils from each other. At
first the vein worked was only a vara
wide, but as they went down they found
a cavern filled with "metallic mush,"
twenty-four feet wide. They were at
first compelled to timlier around a great
deal, for the sake of economy, taking
out merely enough to meet current ex
penses. What remained was "pure
black sulphurets, which exhumed glob
ules of native silver when exposed to
fire." One can trace the silver lode as
it crops out alx>ve the surface and runs
diagonally across the hills ; and if
appearances are good for anything, the
two new mines of Dr. Skilton, the Santo
Teams el Nuevo and the Santa Catarina,
to the west of Santa Gertruilis, are right
in the silver track. We visited these
latter, which are at present operated by
the old-fashioned Mexican mode, the
metal being brought up in bullock skins
by means of long ropes of maguey fibre
wound almut a large drum operated by
mules or horses. The whole district
abounds in picturesque features, but
none more so than these primitive mines.
One hundred million dollars taken from
one mine in thirty years ! This is the
amount declared on good authority to
have been extracted from the Rosario
mine since it was started in 1850, and
the books show that there has lieen paid
$500,000 per share in dividends !
A Knowing Iforsc.
Water Superintendent Bush,of Spring
field, Massachusetts, has a horse about
which some wonderful stories are told.
The animal has been in the family for
several years, and since the water-works
were built lias aided its owner largely
in superintending them. Mr. Bush's
headquarters are at L. R. Norton's
store and there Huldah stands most of
the time ready for any emergency. It
is said that she knows the location of
every hydrant and can scent a leak in
the water pipes in any part of the town.
If in doubt about it she will start alone
for the suspected spot, and, not finding
anything the matter there, will sheepish
ly return to her post. But, if there is a
genuine leak, then she trots rapidly
back to get her master. Sometimes it
happens that Mr. Bush needs assistance
in reparing the break, and in such
cases he simply says, "Huldah, go and
get Pat and Mike, I want them to help
me." The animal trots off to the houses
of the Celts, and they, understanding
what it means, jump in the carnage and
are carried to the place. If, while the
leak is being attended to, a tool is re
quired that is not at hand, Mr. Bush
ties a slip of paper to the whip,
explaining what is needed, tells the
horse the name of the implement he
wants and the intelligent animal goes
straight to headquarters, and when the
needed tool is found starts back with it.
Sometimes the wrong tool has been in
tentionally put into the buggy to deceive,
but she is too smart for such tricks and
refuses to start until she is given what
the note calls for. Innumerable stories
of this sort are related of the animal's
intelligence which one can believe or
disbelieve as they please. Certain it is
that the horse is mofe than ordinarily in
telligent, and shows in that line, as well
as in gentleness and affection for its
owner, the effect of kind treatment—
it never having been struck a blow or
been struck a blow or been spoken cross
ly to since coming into Mr. Bush's
possession.
Profit* For May.
Old Pinchem sat in his private office
the other day figuring up his profits for
May, when his head clerk, looking as
pale as a sheep and as red as a cow by
turns, entered and began:
" Mr. Pinchem, I—l "
''Have you got those goods off for
Kalamazoo ? interrupted the old man.
"Yes, sir, they are off, Mr. Pinchem,
I have long "
'' And about that order for starch ?"
" That has been attended to, sir. Mr.
Pinchem, I have long wanted to speak
to you."
"Ah ! speak to me. Why, I thought
you Hpoke to me fifty times a day."
" Yes sir, I know, but this is a private
matter."
"Private? Oh! Ah! Wait till I see
how much we made on that last 10,000
pounds of soap. Six times four are
twenty-four; five times two are ten. and
two to carry are twelve; three times
seven are twenty-one and one—ah, well,
go ahead ; I'll finish tliis afterwards."
" Mr. Pinchem, I have l>een with you
ten long years."
"Ten, eh? Long years eh? Any
longer than any other years ? Go
ahead."
" And I have always tried to do my
duty."
Have, eh? Goon."
"And I now make bold—"
" Hold on! What is there bold alout
it? But never mind—l'll hear you
out."
" Mr. Pinchem, I want to ask—ask—
I want to ask—"
"Well, why don't you ask then? I
don't see why vou don't ask, if you want
to."
" Mr. Pinchem, I want to ask you for
—for—for—"
" You wan't to ask me for the hand of
my daughter. Ah! Why didn't you
si>eak right out ? She's yours, my boy !
Take her and be happy. You might
have had her two years ago if you had
mentioned it. Go 'long, now— I'm
busy."
"Mr. Pinchem."
" What, you here yet? Well, what is
it?"
" I wanted to ask you for, for—"
"Didn't I give her to you, you
rascal!"
" Yes, but what I wanted to ask you
for w as, not the hand of your daughter,
but for a raise of salary."
" Oh, that was it, eh ? Well, sir, that
is an entirely different matter, and it
requires time for serious thought and
earnest consultation. Return to your
work, and some time next fall I'll see
about giving you a raise of a dollar a
week. Six times four are twenty-four
and two to carry ; and three times "
.Some Wonderful Arab Hone*.
Somewhere about 1780, it appears to
me, the search after Eastern horses
began to languish, and then gradually,
died out One reason was that the aris
tocratic importers found, let them work
never so hard, they could not equal that
"first regimental charger" on which
Capt. Byerly of the Boyne, otherwise
obscure, has ridden into everlasting re
nown, or the Paris cart-horse, or the
Turkey merchant's unhoped-for treasure
from Aleppo. I regret this, because the
very highest specimens of Barb and
Arab, like the very highest specimens of
our English race-horse, must be few and
far between. Had our wealthy breeders
persevered, other accidental wonders,
once and again, might have fallen into
their hands, and even short of that,
valuable qualities would have kept infus
ing themselves into horses of every de
scription, together with an unfailing
flow of Eastern blood. To show how
much accident has to do with such mat
ters ; There was an Eastern screw,
belonging to the surgeon of the Ninetieth
Regiment, at Zante, in 1828. He was a
flea-bitten gray, standing somewhere
about 15 hands 2 inches. Turk, Barb,
Arab, or a mixture of all three, nobody
knew. He was not regularly trained,
and far from being in a racing condition;
he was, therefore, naturally thought
nothing of at first. But to the astonish
ment of the military mind, when races
were established there under high New
market superintendence, neither tho
roughbred chargers from home nor
Barbs and Arabs—many of them horses
of merit belonging to the Greek gentle
men of the place—had the shadow of a
chance with him ; he scuttled away from
all competitors in the most unexpected
style, and may, for aught I know, have
been a second Godolphin in disguise.
In Cyprus.
The Cypriote makes niglit hideous
with his bowlings, laboring under the
impression that he is musical The
noise or music to which he jumps is
chiefly produced by Bcraping one—the
treble—string of a little fiddle with
great rapidity, and has to all appear
ances been learned from the mosquito,
which it mimics with considerable ac
curacy. The fiddle is generally accom
panied by the bourdon of a zither, which
copies well the wearing screech of the
cicala. When the native Greek breaks
into song he produces a brief nasal
drone, whose melancholy sound is often
repeated. The boys never whistle ; but
the children, chiefly the girls, from time
to time, with a voice from the head and
nose produce a short tune, which never
exceeds two or three bars. With all
this they have wondrous lungs. The
men will send their clear voices ringing
through the pure dry air across the
country-side ; in the streets and on the
roads they converse, preferably it would
almost seem, from a distance in loud
tones. When on fine evenings—and all
evenings are fine in Cyprus for months
together—whole families sit in the lanes
outside their doors, they do not take the
trouble to move in order to visit their
neighbors, but shout to them with shrill
distinctness as they sit. The result is a
babel of noise, for all shout together.
Notwithstanding that, they seem to make
themselves intelligible.
Stove lustre, when mixed with turpen
tine and applied in the usual manner, is
blacker, more glossy and durable than if put
on with any other liquid. The turpentine
prevents rust,and when put on an old rusty
stove will make it look as well as new. The
odor of the turpentine passes off quickly.
NO. 30.