VOL. LY.
HARTER,
AUCTIONEER,
REBERSBURG. PA.
J C. SPRINGER,
Fashionable Barber,
-Next Door to JOURNAL Store,
MILLHXIH, PA.
JJROCKERHOFF HOUSE,
(Opposite Court House.)
H. BBOCKEBHOFF, Proprietor.
WII. MCKKXVXR, Manager.
Good sample rooms eu first floor.
Free bus to and from all trains.
Special rates to jurors and witnesses.
Strictly First Class.
IRVIN HOUSE,
(Moat Central Hotel in the City,)
Corner MAIN and JAY Streets,
Lock Haven, Pa.
8. WOODS CALWKLL, Proprietor.
Good Sample Rooms for Commercial
Travelers on first floor.
T) R * D. H. MINGLE,
Physician and Surgeon,
MAIN Street, MILLJHKIM, Pa.
JJR. JOHN F. HARTER,
PRACTICAL DENTIST,
Office In 2d story of Tomlinson's Gro
cery Store,
On MAIN Street, MILLHXIM, Pa.
C. T. Alexander. C. M. Bower.
A BOWER,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
BKLLKFONTK, PA.
Offioe in German's new building.
JOHN B. LINN,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BKLLKFONTK, PA.
Office on Allegheny Street.
QLEMENT DALE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BKLLKFONTK, PA.
Northwest corner of Diamond.
YOCUM A HASTINGS,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
BKLLKFONTK, PA.
High Street, opposite First National Bank.
C. HEINLE,
ATTORNEY AT LA W,
BELLEFONTK, PA.
Practices in all the courts of Centre County.
Bpec.&l attention to Collections. Consultations
In German or English.
Y^ ILfi UR F. REEDER,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BKLLEFONTK FA.
All bus ness promptly attended to. Collection
of claims a speciality.
J. A. Beaver. J w. Gephart.
JgEAYER A GEPHART,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
BELLEFONTK, PA.
Office on AUeghany Street, North of High.
A> MORRISON,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BELLEFONTK, PA.
Office on WoodrlngM Block, Opposite Court
House.
S. KELLER,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BKLLEFONTE, PA,
Consultations In English or German. Office
in Lyon'* Building, Allegheny Street.
JOHN G. LOVE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BELLEFONTK, PA.
Office in the rooms formerly occupied by the
late w. P. Wilson.
ADVERTISE IN THE
Millheim Journal.
RATES ON APPLICATION.
Sit pillkei* iiiwal
'GATHER RIPE FRUITS, O DEATH.
Take thy shadow from my threshold,
O thou dweller m the night;
standing right across my doorway.
Shutting out the morning light.
Thou hast been here in the autumn.
And hast taken all thy sheaves.
It is not time to gather
The blossoms and the leaves.-
Oh, press not in so closely
To the baby at my breast,
Wonldst thou take the tender nursling
From the shelter of its nest?
Oh cliilii, he Is 110 playmate
For such a one as thee;
lie smiles, aud stretches towards him—
What can the baby see?
Ah! close behind the shadow
lie sees the angel wait
And wide the leaves unfolding
of that broad heavenly gate.
And he seeth one who beekoneth,
Poor heart, oouldst thou but see,
Those golden gates unfolding
And thy lost ones waiting thee. ;
Yet colder falls the twilight.
And the children crouch behind.
As the gariucuts past them rustling
Sweep like the winter wind.
But the baby smiles aud watcheth.
And when the night grows dim
• There will bean empty cradle
And a breaking heart for him.
LABOR LOST.
There is scarcely anything more un
fortunate for a man than the absence of
loving women around ltis childhood and
youth. Mark Rii>on had never known
such women,and I offer this fact as some
palliation for his want of faith in them.
He wits ignorant of his parentage; he
had been found one morning 011 the steps
of the Foundation School in Boxtergate,
Ripon; and as it was 011 the festival of
St. Mark, hi' had received the name of
the saint and the name of his native
city, and been adopted by the institu
tion Wholesome food, stout clothing
and a decent trade had been given him
by the foundation, and iu mafiy respects
he was felt to have done it honor, for
after fifty years' creditable citizenship
he was one of the Cathedral vestry, sat
in the Common Council of this ancient
city which had adopted him, and was
said to be worth at least £50,000.
But there is a success which the world
sees little of—that of the heart—and in
this respect Mark Ripon was the veriest
pauper. Of the nurses and matrons who
had been around his earliest years he
had not one tender memory; none of
them had fed the hunger of his heart.
He hail no home, no mother, 110 sister.
The school had been simply a place in
u-liiak hi ixt, olccp tvllll lCHril.
Unfortunately, when the lail fell iu
love, it was with a pretty flirt, infinitely
more heartless than himself. But
Mark's love had been deceived and
mocked, and, when he had come out of
his chagrin and sorrow, he hail a con
firmed belief in the general and natural
unfaithfulness of women. Popular max
ims and jests confirmed him every day
in his idea, and, like most Englishmen,
having once avowed this as his opinion
every reiteration of. his own idea was a
fresh confirmation of it.
But he had many friends among his
own sex. Men generally spoke of him
as a crusty old bachelor, bat otherwise
as a well-to-do, shrewd and honorable
old fellow. Chief among these was
young George Downes, the child of the
only companion his boyhood liail ever
known, his own godson. If Mark Ripon
loved any human being, it was George
Downes, though the latter, as he grew
to manhood, gave him a great deal of
anxiety, for George preferred the society
of women, and would not credit Mark's
positive assurances of their universal
falseness and uuwrthiness.
One moonlight night, as Mark was
coming from a vestry meeting, he met
George in the cathedral close, and on
his arm was a very beautiful girl. The
old man looked very angrily and doubt
fully at the pretty face lifted to his fa
vorite's. The bright moon-beams touched
her long fair curls, and made the veil
round them like a glory. Mark remem
bered just such a lovely, innocent face
to his, and lie hail 110 doubt that this
girl would be as false to George as pretty
Fanny Maltby hail been to him.
George, however, would not be per
suaded to doubt her. Then Mark offered
to pay his expenses if he would go
abroad and travel for two years; but
George said he hail got a situation in a
bank, and preferred to stay at home.
The young man, in Mark's eyes, was
bent on raining himself, anil in a few
weeks he celebrated his wedding, with
an elaborate rejoicing that roused the
old man's bitterest contempt.
George fully expected that now he
would be ignored, and probably lose any
chances that lie might have had of in
heriting liis god-father's wealth. But
Mark was unlike the generality of men
in many respects, and in none more than
in his behavior to the young man who
had so flagrantly disregarded all his
advices and entreaties.
He redoubled his care over him, arid
watched all his movements with a con
stantly increasing interest. In fact, he
did not blame George at all; he regarded
him as one who, in an unfortunate hour,
had fallen into the hands of a power
which was too great for him. He pitied
the happy bridegroom, and resolved as
soon as possible to release him from the
toils of a woman who had charmed and
enslaved him.
In vain George's wife smiled upon and
entertained Mark Ripon. He visited her
house, indeed, for it was necessary to
watch her movements; but neither smiles
nor songs, nor attentions moved Mark.
MILLHEIM, PA., THURSDAY, AUGUST 18, JBBI.
He had gone through that delusion onoe
and was not to be deceived again. It
was one great ]>oint of favor that George
had taken a house in such a situation
that he could keep the young wife under
very close surveillance, and he was con
fident. that, sooner or later, he would
prove her all he believed women univer
sally to bo.
But month after month went by and
George was more in love than over.
There had also come to the happy home
over the way from Mark's a tine little
boy that had been called jifter him, and
a blue eyed girl whom not even Mark
could find it in his heart to regard as
dangerous. He was even venturing to
make Mrs. George Downes that excep
tion said to be contingent upon every
rule when suddenly all suspicious were
forced into active life and prominence.
One day—a very wet one—a close car
riage drove up to George's house, and
Mi's. George, heavily cloaked and veiled
was driven away in it.
"Very well, ma'am" said Mark, sus
piciously, to himself "we shall see
whether you confess to having been out
to-day."
So he went over to George's, played a
rublier or two with his favorite,and tried
every way to induce a confession as to
the drive in the rain, but the young
wife would make no allusion to it. This
was on Monday. On Thursday, at the
same hour, the carriage came again, and
George's wife went away in it. The
next week she went on three different
days, and twice, the weather being fine,
he noticed she wore her very best dress,
the rich brocade that had been one of
her wedding suits.
The affair was beginning to look very
block to Mark, for he had satisfied him
self that George had been told nothing
whatever of these clandestine excursions.
On the next Monday he had a carriage
waiting, and when the lady went out
again he directed his driver to keep her
well in sight. In this way he followed
her beyond the aristocratic precincts of
the city to a little house set back in 41
garden quite in the suburbs. A very
handsome ,foreign-looking man met her
with many smiles and escorted her into
the house. Mark sent his carriage home,
and patiently waited.
After an interval of two hours Mi's.
Downes' carriage returned, the same
gentleman put her carefully into it, and
she must have driven at onco home, fo*
when Mark passed the House sue wn
sitting in her plain merino dress by the
window, tending his namesake. She
ran to the door and begged him to come
in; but Mark was toofull of his discovery
and answered, gruffly:
"Ask George to come to me after din
ner; I have something to tell him."
George heard what his god-father had
to say with a face half angry and half
incredulous.
"It must have l>een my wife's sister,"
he said.
Mark laughed scornfully at such a
defense, and moreover, stoutly asserted
that it was Mrs. Downes and not her
sister.
"Come 011 Thursday and see for your
self, George."
"If I do, god-father, it will not be
because I suspect my wife, but because
I am sure to prove you wrong."
Still George thought it singular that
he could not by the most adroit ques
tioning get from her any allusion to
those mysterious visits. At length he
■aid;
"Emma, I will ask for Thursday after
noon, and we will go out to Alborougli
woods and get the holly and mistletoe
for Christmas. What do you say?"
"I can't go Thursday, George, dear;
I have so much to do."
"What have you to do?"
•'More than I can tell. Is it not nearly
Christmas, and does that not imply all
sorts of housekeeping duties? But I
will go with you Friday, dear."
George was a little cross at the refusal
and answered gloomily;
"No; I have lost the wish to go now.'
Then both were silent, and the evening
was not a pleiisant one. All the next
day he told himself that he would not
go and watch his wife Thursday, and
yet when the day came he was sitting
with his godfather at the window. At
the usual hour the carnage arrived, and
Mrs. Downes, with her hair as elaborate
ly dressed as if she was going to a state
dinner at the Bishop's pidace, ran down
the steps, and was soon driven rapidly
away.
"Well, godfather," he said pleasantly
"that is Emma, certainly, and she is
very remarkably dressed; but, for all
that, I am sure she has some good rea
son for what she tens me."
"Don't be a fool, George; go and
question your servants."
After a little reflection, George crossed
to his own house and rang the bell. The
housemaid seemed astonished at his ap
pearance, and when he asked where her
mistress was, said she had not seen her
since she had taken her orders for din
ner. Then George went up to the nur
•♦ry.
"Where's your mistress, Ann!"
"Is she not in the parlor, sir?"
"You know she is not. Where did
she go in the carriage?"
"Indeed, sir,it is my business to mind
the children; the mistress knows her
own affairs,without the likes of me med
dling in them.
He turned round impatiently, went
backto Mark Ripon and got an accurate
description of the house to which he had
traced Mrs. George; and in half an hour
the half curious and half angry husband
stopped at the pretty cottage. All was
quiet about it; there was no appearance
of company; it looked almost deserted
in its wintry garden. An exceedingly
lovely woman, though evidently in frail
and failing health, opened the iloor for
him, saving:
"You want to see the signer, sar?"
"No; 1 wish to see Mrs. Downes; she
is here, I believe?"
"All, yes, she is here. If you will
please go up one stuir. lam so weak
and tired always."
She jxiinted to the stairs, and George
went thoughtfully up them. Half way
there was a little landiug and a door,anil
there he heard a strange, musical voice,
and then his wife's merry laugh to its
observation. It nettled George; he
knocked sharply, and before an answer
could be given opened the door and
walked into the rixmi.
"Oh, George, how provoking! What
made you come, dear?"
His wife was sitting iu all her bridal
finery 011 a little elevated platform, and
Signer Sorts was putting the last touches
to a lovely portrait of her.
"I mean it for your Christmas gift,
George, and you have peeped before
hand. Is not that too bad?"
"Indeed it is, Emma."
But Emma was almost satisfied with
his peeping, so proudly and lovingly did
he take her home.
"How did you find me out, George?"
"Oh, you are easy to find out, Emma.
Of course I knew if you went out in a
carriage that you got it at Morrell's.
But how did you come to know this
Frenchman?"
"You think all foreigners are French
men, George. He is an Italian, and so
is his beautiful wife. He came from
London to paint my Lord Bishop and
the cathedral, aud the signora was so
much better hare that he resolved to
spend the winter in Yorkshire and)) try
to make enough to go to Italy soon. My
Lord asked me to have mr picture done,
and papa paid for it in orler to surprise
you. I think, George, Clear, you had
better not let papa know you have
spoiled his surprise.**
George felt more and more sorry aud
humiliated as he looked in the pretty,
frank face, and thought how cheerfully,
after all, she had taken the forestallment
01 ni'i" l Tiristinns jecret- 4
"I will do as you say, rami la. Has
the signor plenty of work?"
•'He is painting many of the principal
ladies in the city. The bishop thinks
very highly of him. Indeed, I have seen
his lordship there at nearly all my visits.'
George let the subject drop now as
quickly as possible to Emma; but he
talked a good deal about it—and in no
very goixl temper—to his godfather.
For once Mark hail no excuse for his
suspicions. He was quite awed by the
fact that he hail dared to think wrong
of interviews which the bishop hail ar
ranged and honored with his presence.
He had lost faith in his own penetration
regarding the sex,anil George anil Emma
were quietly at some pains to convince
him that good and true women are the
rule and not the exception.
Though I cannot describe exactly lfbw
it came about, I know that the next
Christmas Mark was the gayest old
bachelor in Ripon, and opened his festi
val ball at George's house with Signor
Sard's handsome sister—the very same
lady whom the bishop himself,very soon
afterward, made Mrs. Mark Ripon.
A Life of Adventure.
The life of Mary Ann Talbot, a
daughter of the Earl of Talbot, was one
of remarkable adventure. Bom in
London, on February 2, 1778, she was
well educated at the expense of her
father. When only about fourteen she
was induced to run away from school hy
a Captain Bowen. She went with liis
regiment to the West Indies, served
afterwards as a drummer at the siege of
Valenciennes, where the Captain was
killed, and the intrepid girl left friend
less She contrived to leave the coast,
and shipped as a boy on a French
privateer. This vessel was captured by
one of the ships of Lord Howe's fleet,
and, the opportunity being open to her,
Mary Talbot entered the British navy.
She served in many actions, was several
times a prisoner of war, and finally, in
1796, when suffering from a shattered
leg, was commissioned a midshipman
and discharged. Subsequently, Queen
Charlotte granted her a pension of £2O.
When recovered of her wounds she went
to America, working her way hither as
steward of a merchant ship, on Ixiaril of
which, it is said, she was obliged to re
veal her sex. After a long absence,
little being known of her exploits in the
mean time, she again appeared in Lon
don. From this point hei- subsequent
life was one of great wretchedness and
poverty, anil she was frequently in New
gate undergoing imprisonment for debt.
Out of prison she assumed a variety of
characters, being sailor, actress, peddler
and footpad by turns. The date of her
death is unknown.
Avarice is a uniiorm and tractable
vice. Other intellectual distempers are
different in different constitutions of
mind ; that wliicli soothes the pride of
one will offend the pride of another; but
to the favor of the oovetoufi there is a
ready way—bring money and nothing is
denied.
The Kremlin at MOHCOW.
The Palace of the Kremlin alone has
always been a city in itself. In the eu
virons*tho Metropolitan Bishop, the
court dignitaries and princes and lords
occupied magnificent mansions, reared
by Grecian and Italian architects. It
was here in 1547 great fire—for
the Kremlin has never l>een a stranger
to fire—wrought its awful destruction,
baffling all human power. Here it was
that the venerable metropolitan bishop,
pleading at the altar for divine interpo
sition, was with great difficulty rescued.
Smothered and in u state of insensibility
the old prelate was borne through bil
lows of flame and smoke, while the Pal
ace of the Emperor, his treasures and
the archives of the empire, were all con
sumed.
The Kremlin hill stands almost in the
1 center of Moscow. It is triangular in
form, the longest side facing the Mi>skva,
about a mile in circumference and a tri
fle under 1(H) I'ect in height. Adjoining
it on the east is the Altai (Jorod
(Chinese City), inclosed within the an
cient walls, which rising directly from
the Moskva, at the fixit of the hill, 011
the southern side, climb it at either end
aud crown it 011 the north. There wus,
in its earlier history, a lake-like moat
uroiiml the northern side of the hill, but
Alexander 1. drained it anil converted it
into a pleasant garden. The golden
domes of the Kremlin were so construct
ed as to be visible from almost every
part of Moscow.
Travelers have vainly essayed to do
justice to the beauties of the place; even
Bayard Taylor pleads the lack of de
scriptive power to do the Kremlin jus
tice. The main entrance is through a
double-towered jx>rtid called the Sunday
Gate. Built against the wall, Ixitween
two archways,is a little chapel or shrine,
entering which, bareheaded, all the
pious do reverence. Within the chapel
is reached a niche lighted with silver |
lamj>s before u screen dazzling with gold
silver and precious stones. High-born
lady and serf kneel side by side to de
votionally kiss the glass cover over a
Byzantine mother and child of dark com
plexion. This is the "Iberian mother of
God,"a miraculous picture,for hundreds
of years the protectress of the Mus
covites, and her intercession is sought
by all.
Within the Sunday gate is the long
Kraxmoi Ploxhad, or Red Square,
stretching south to the bank of the
Moskva. On the right is the gray wall
of the Kremlin and 011 the left the long
low front of the (Jontinnoi JJvor, or
Great Bazaar. In the centre of the
square stands a bronze monument to
Minim and Pojarski,tlie Russian herix's,
who, in 1610, aroused the jHHiple, stormed
Moscow and ilrove out Vladislas, of Po
land, called to the throne by the Boy arils.
The sturdy butcher of Kijui Novgonxl
iiie r "r,w^; d
The figures are colossal and full of fire
and vigor. Hard by is a small circular
of masonry, the throne or judgment seat
of the early Tzar-.
At the southern extremity of the
square is the most astonishing structure
—in ap}>e&rance a church or pavilion.
It is described bv Taylor as "a bewil
dering pile, the product, of some archi
tectural kaleidoscope in which the most
incongruous things assume a certain or
der and system. It is not beautiful, nor
is the effect offensive, because the very
maze of colors, in which red, green and
gold predominate, attracts and cajoles
the eye. The purposed incongruity of
the building is manifest in the minutest
details. This is the Cathedral of St.
Basil, built by Ivan, the Terrible, who
is said to have been so charmed with the
work that be caused the eyes of the
architect to be blinded to prevent him
ever duplicating the structure. The
cathedral is an agglomeration of towers,
110 two of which are alike in either
height, shape, or in any other particular.
Some are round, some square, some hex
agonal, some octagonal; one ends iu a
pyramidal spire, another in a cone, and
others in bulging domes, twisted in spi
ral bands of yellow and green like an an
cient Moslem turban. The interior of
the cathedral is 110 less curious than the
outside. Eveiy tower encloses a chapel,
so that twelve or fifteen saints have their
shrines under one roof, yet separate.
The colossal face of Christ, the irgin,
or the patron saint stares down from the
hollow of the capping dome. The cen
tral tower is 120 feet high, while the di
ameter of the chapel inside it is scarcely
more than thirty feet at the base. Bay
ard Taylor describes this singular struc
ture as the Apotheosis of chimneys."
Passing through the Kremlin wall by
the tS'jMixs Vorota , or Gate of the Re
deemer, the most sacred confines arc
reached. Over the hollow arch hangs a
picture of the Savior looking with be
nignity upon the Russians,but breathing
fire and thunder upon their foes. The
Tartars—so says tradition—were driven
back again and again from this gate by
miraculous resistance, and although the
French entered at last all their attempts
to blow it up were vain. Not even the
Emperor dare pass through the Gate of
the Redeemer without nncovering his
head. Thus is entrance effected to the
paved court of the Kremlin. Here rises
the tower of Ivan Veliki; beyond are the
Cathedral of St. Michael, the Church of
the Assumption, and the ancient church
of the Tzars, all crowded with tiaras of
gilded domes. 1 To the right is another
cluster of da k blue domes over the
House of the Holy Synod, while the
back-ground is filled up with the new
palace (Granovitaya Palata), with its
heavy French front aud wings, above
which the Tartar towers of the Kremlin
wall shoot up 011 the left.
At the foot of the tower stands 011 a
granite pedestal the Tzar Aolokol , or
Emperor of Bells, which was cast by or
der of the Empress Anne in 1730, but
was broken some years afterwards
through the burning of the tower in
which it liung. It is over 21 feet in
height, 22 feet in diameter at the bot
tom, weighs 120 tons, and the estimated
value of the gold, silver and copper con
! tained in it is #1,500,000. In another
I story of the tower is a bell 100 years
older, whose iron tongue requires the
exertions of three men to move it.
It only rings three times a year.
The Empress Anne seems to have had
a fondness for monster castings, for in
the court-yard is a tremendous piece of
artillery, with Is,re of three feet, famil
iarly known as the j>ocket-piece of the
Tzarina. In the same court are French
and Gerniun cannon, captured in 1812,
and also Turkish and Persian guns.
The churches in the palace court are
of modern dimensions, and plain out
wardly,but within there is dazzling pomp
and glaie. A multitude of saints are
painted 011 the wulls, and classic phil
osophers and historians as well—Thucy
dides and Plutarch in company with 88.
Anthony and Jerome. There are said
to IHi 2,1100 figures altogether. In the
Cathedral of the Archangel Michael, in
stead of saints are large frescoes of
Heaven, Hell and the Judgment. On
the floor, arranged in rows, are the sar
cophagi of the early Tzars, from Ivan I,
to Alexis, father of Peter the Great. In
the middle of the church in a splendid
silver coffin,is the laxly of a lad,believed
to be that of the young Demetrius, the
last prince of the race of Rurik,wlio was
put to death by Boris Gudouoff. The
lid of the coffin is open,and on the inner
side is a portrait of the Ixiv studded with
jewels. Visitors are cxjieeted to kiss the
forehead.
In the House of the Holy Bynod is
preserved the robes worn by the Russian
Patriarchs during the last 600 years.
The holy oil is preserved in thirty-three
jars. Alxuit two gallons a year are
necessary to supply Russia.
The secular palaces of the Kremlin are
}kbin without and magnificent within.
iTie esjx'cial splendors in gold, jewels
anil marble aj-e in the grand hall of Bt.
George, St. Alexander Nevsky, Bt.
Wladimar and St. Elizal>eth." A part of
the ancient palace of the Tzars—all that
was left by fire aud Frenchmen—forms
one of the attractions. From the bal
cony, it is said, Bonaparte watched the
progress of the fire the night after his
arrival in Moscow.
"No Stock in Comics."
"May I ask your opinion 011 the
comet ?" said the reporter, accosting a
portly matron who, with a large market
basket on her arm, was wending her
perspiring way down Fulton street, New
York. She pulled up suddenly and
after having somewhat recovered from
her flurry and excitement at being ac
costed by a stranger said: "Oh, comics;
well, I never did take much stock in
them things; a comic and a tryin' to
frighten people, an' a lot of crazy people
a say in' the world's a comin' to an end,
which it ain't never comin' to an end,
aecordin to my Ix'lief. No, sir, I don't
take 110 stock in comics, but my poor
husband has took on dreadful since yes
terday. Night before last he come home
Srvb V 3" juL'-WWi Jn mk
come home, and in this dreadful state
of 'toxication, too.' Says he, straight
ening himself up, 'Maria, I'm a sober
man ; I've been serutinizun' the comic.'
'A scrutv what ?' says I, knowin' that
John he never used such lovely language
unless he were full. 'Serutinizun' the
comic, Maria,' said he, gettin' quite
mad like 'cause I didn't understand
what he meant. 'What's a serutinizun?'
said I. Poor John was too full to tell
me more, but I got him up-stairs to bed,
and after he had laiil quiet a bit he says
quite confidential like, 'Maria, there
were four of us a serutinizun' the comic,
an' after we looked at the comic a bit
we hail glasses round, and then we went
out and saw more comics, and then
Bill he said he see'd five comics, but I
never see'd more than four.' Well, sir,
my poor husband he went a ramblin' on
aliout those blessed comics till he ram
bled himself to sleep. When he woke
up yesterday mornin' you never see'd a
sicker man. Said, I, 'John, ain't you
ashamed of yourself ?' He turned him
self over in his lied and, lookin' at me
with his bloodshot eyes, said, ' Oh,
Maria! don't never take no stock in
comics.
A Lil>ral Reward will le Given
To the small boy who never wliistled.
To the woman over thirty who never
had an offer.
To the boy of 18 who dixs not know
more than his parents.
To the widow who does not like to
have her mourning becoming.
To the young man who doesn't think
the girls are all dying after him.
To the politician who never sought
the place that seemed to seek him.
To the writer for the press who never
said that his contribution was dashed
off.
To the doctor who has the hardihood
to tell a wealthy patient that nothing
ails him.
To a young woman who wouldn't
choose an ice cream to a substantial
meal.
To the married man who never con
sidered the possibilities of a second
marriage.
To the school teacher who can talk
without seeming to watch every word
she utters.
To the clergyman who doesn't feel
just a little proud of the tears he calls
up at a funeral.
To the married woman who does not
sometimes wonder how she ever came
to say "Yes."
To the car conductor who does not
take peculiar pleasure in helping the
ladies oft* his car.
To the man who ever exchanged um
brellas and went off with a worse one
than he left behind.
To the young lady graduate who
wouldn't rather have a white satin dress
than high honors at the graduating
exercises,
The Sumpitan, or Blow-Tube.
The projectiles used are darts, vary
ing from live to eight or nine inches in
length. The Dyak war dart is the
shortest, and is usually furnished with a
small metal arrowhead. In this case the
shaft is of light wood. The longer
darts, such as those used in Sumatra,
are made from a harder and heavier
wood, usually the long spikes taken from
the palms. These are left thicker toward
the point than at the other end, so as to
counterbalance the weight of the conical
piece of pith there affixed. This piece
of pith, the broadest part of which is but
very little less than the bore of the blow
tulie, is absolutely necessary for the
forcible propulsion of the dart. As it
does not fit the tube precisely, there is
necessarily some esca|>e of force. For
this reason when very hard shots are
desired a small pellet of cotton or other
suitable fibrous material is put behind
the dart. The great secret in making
the darts is to insure that they balance
exactly, t. e., one-half must l>e exactly
the same weight as the other. Under
any other conditions tube shooting is
impossible. In Padrang, Sumatra, I
was much astonished to meet a man
using for very small birds darts con
structed out of cocoanut leaves. He
took a spike of the leaf, and cut off a
piece about five inches long. The stalk
of this he denuded of all leaf except one
piece an inch and a half long on one side,
the result being an article having the
shape of a quill pen. The inch and a
half fragment of leaf that remained was
curled around to allow of its admittance
into the blow-tube. When we remember
that it was a green leaf, we can form an
idea of the force with which the darts
are propelled to kill. For my particular
amusement the sportsman, who was
laden with a supply of at least 300 darts,
shot one of these palm leaf projectiles
over some water, and I calculated that
the range was well over 80 yards. The
initial velocity was so great that the dart
could not be seen for the first 25 yards.
The greatest adepts with the sumpitan,
especially at the present day, when its
use is so surely dying out, are undoubt
edly the Dyaks. From what I have
heard, and from what I know from my
own observation, a Dyak would shoot a
dart a hundred and fifty yards to a
certainty ; and I should not care to bet
very much against 200 yards being
accomplished by picked men. This
statement may savor of the *'traveler"
order, but I fancy most Bo mean travel
is, of course, not U
take human life, but the Dyaks poison
their projectiles in warfare, when a slight
wound anywhere is all that is necessary.
Mr. Paul, who was some years in Borneo
with Sir James Brooke, told me that
he once saw a Dyak who put two darts
into a sumpitan, one behind the other,
and by some inexplicable moans shot out
the front one first, and followed with the
other after an interval This man was
doubtless a sort of Dr. Carver among
the Dyaks. Precision with the blow
tulnj is, as with every other weapon, a
mere matter of practice. In shooting
small birds out of trees for collecting
purposes, for which service I recom
mended the use of the blow-tube, the
range would never be very great. A bird
20 feet high in a tree is pretty high,
considering that it is in the lower, full
leaved trees that the birds congregate,
in preference to the higher ones. At
this distance a little practice will make
it a certainty that the bird will be hit.
If not killed outright, the long darl will
of itself be sufficiently cumbersome to
prevent the bird flying very far. As a
rule, the quarry is transfixed, when of
course it is a case. I give 20 feet be
cause I always like to be on the safe side
in these matters, but I, myself, would
certainly undertake to hit four times out
of six at twice the height I have fre
quently proved this by bringing down
tiny birds out of the betel-nut palm.
Your readers will notice that I speak of
"height," and not "distance." Shooting
up into a tree and shooting at an object
upon the ground are two different
matters when the projectile is a long
dart, likely to be affected by the least
wind But still, at 30 feet small birds
should not escape very often from hori
zontal shots. For very tiny birds clay
balls may be used; but from the fact
that they never can fit the barrel proper
ly, they are not so sure as the dart.
A K**lic of the Vikings.
The oaken hull of a vessel supposed ti
date from the time of the old Vikings cf
the North, was recently discovered
while digging a tumulus near FreSerick
stadt, in Norway. It was rather flat and
low in the water, tapering to a point •at
each end, with a length of of keel of 44
feet, and a breadth of beam of 13 feet.
It is supposed to have been used as a
war vessel for coast service, being pro
pelled by oars and sails. An ancient
practice in Norway was to place the
vessel over the remains of its captain,
and fragments of dress, horse accoutre
ments, and harness have discovered un
der this. This is deemed quite a prize
for the archaeologists, and the entire
lot is to. be placed in the Antiquarian
Museum at Christiania.
—The German post-office uses postage
stamps whose colors can be cancelled by
water. This prevents frauds, for as soon
as the stamps are washed the color is
obliterated.
NO. 33.