VOL. LV.
BARTER,
AUCTIONEER,
REBERSBURG. PA.
J C. SPRINGER,
Fashionable Barber,
Next Door to JOURNAL Store,
MILLHKIH, PA.
JgROCKERHOFF HOUSE,
(Oppoaite Court House.)
H. BBOCKJ3BHOFF, Proprietor.
Wm. McKkkvkr, Manager.
Good sample rooms en first floor.
Free bus to and from all trains.
Special rates to jurors and witnesses.
Strictly First Class.
IRVIN HOUSE,
(Most 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.
D. H. MINGLE,
Physician and Surgeon,
MAIN Street, MILLHKIM, Pa.
JOHN F. BARTER,
PRACTICAL DENTIST,
Office in 3d story of Tomlinson's Gro
cery Store,
On MAIN Street, Mili.hiim, Pa.
C. T. Alexander. C. M. Bower.
A BOWER,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
BBLLEFONTB, PA.
Office In German's new building.
JOHN B. LINN,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BKLLKFONT*, PA.
Office on Allegheny Street.
OLEMENT DALE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BELLE FONTS, PA.
Northwest corner of Diamond.
Y° cum a HASTINGS,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW.
BKLLKFONTB, PA.
High Street, opposite First National Bank.
c - HEINLE,
ATTORNEY AT LA W,
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Practices In all the courts of Centre County.
Special attention to Collections. Consultations
In German or English.
F. REEDER,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BELLEFONTE, PA.
All business promptly attended to. Collection
of elalms a speciality.
J. A. Beaver. J w. Gephart.
JgEAVKR A GEPHART,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Office on Alleghany Street, North of High.
A. MORRISON,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BELLEFONTE, PA
Office on WoodrlngM Block, Opposite Court
House.
S. KELLER,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BELLEFONTE, PA
Consultations In English or German. Office
In Lyon's Building, Allegheny Street.
JOHN G. LOVE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BELLEFONTE, PA
Office in the rooms formerly occupied by the
late W. P. Wilson.
ADVERTISE IN THE
Millheim Journal.
RATES ON APPLICATION.
Ike pitlkeiw jSomrnal
THE OI.D FARMER'S KLVUY.
On a tfreen grants knoll, by the banks of the brook,
That so lonjf and O often has watered hlB ILK-W,
The old fanner rests In his long and last sleep.
While the waters a low, lapsing lullaby keep.
He has ploughed his last furrow, has reaped Ills
last grata;
No morn shall awake htm to labor again.
Yw tree, that with fragrance is rilling the atr,
St) rich with Its blossoms, so thrifty and fair,
By his own hand was planted ; and well did he say.
It would live when its planter hail mouldered away,
lie has ploughed his last furrow, has reaped
his last grain;
No uiorn shall awake him to lator again.
There's the well that he dug, with its waters so
COLLL,
With its wet, drippiug bucket, so mossy and old,
No more from its depths by the patriarch drawn.
For the " pitcher is broken," the old uiatt Is gone.
He lias ploughed his last furrow, has reaped his
last grain;
No uiorn shall awake him to labor again.
"Twas a glooui-giving day when the old farmer
died;
The stout-hearted mourned, the affectionate cried;
And the prayers of the Just for his rest did ascend,
For they all lost a brother, a man and a friend.
He has ploughed his last furrow, has reaped his
last grain;
No morn shall awake him to laior again.
For upright and honest the old farmer was;
His God he revered, he respected the laws;
Though fame less he lived, he has gone where his
worth
Will outshina, like pure gold, all the dross of thu
• earth.
He has ploughed his last t\ rrow, has reaped his
last grain;
No morn sh.il' wake him to labor again.
DAFFODIL'S HI SBAND.
The sun had dropped behind the tall
towers of St. George's twin-steepled
church, the soft June twilight was set
tling, like au impalpable veil of liquid
amethyst, over all the little apartments,
and Daffodil Grey stood at the window,
carelessly toying with the geranium
leaves, that gave out a sweet, pungent
fragrance to the touch of her lingers,
and thinking—thinking!
It was just six moutlis, this day, that
she was married —six months since she
had left the old farm in Chester county,
and came to the great city to live.
"You'll be desperately homesick!"
Aunt Jocasta had said, with a solemn
shake of the head.
"Not with John!" she had responded
radiantly,
"Just fancy," groaned Aunt Jocasta,
all these fields and hills
for a city fiat!"
"Every one lives in fiats nowadays,"
Daffodil had retorted; "and John says I
shall find tilings very convenient."
"Humph!" said Aunt Jocasta; "I
never was in love myself, but I've been
told that people who are, would believe
anything. I suppose John is law and
gospel to von now!"
"Of coiirse," said Daffodil, laughing.
So she had married the young hero of
her hopes and dreams, and gone to the
great, crowded city to live. And the
fiat had been Arcadia to her—that is,
just at first, when the honey-moon was
in its first glow, and all the world was
transfigured with the light that shines
through the halo of a wedding ring.
But, of late, Mrs. Daffodil had not
been quite so happy. She had been
crving, one night, when John eame homo
unexpectedly, and there was no time to
dash away the tears.
"My darling," he had cried aghast,
"what is the trouble?"
"Nothiug, John—nothing!" she had
answered. "Only—only it is so long
since I placed my feet on a sod of green
grass. And I was thinking that the old
orchard would be in blossom, just at
this time; and the meadow under the
sassafras tree would be all blue with
early violets."
"Daffodil, are you homesick?"
"No, John—indeed, no!" she cried.
"Get on your things," said Grey.
"We'll go and walk in the park, and lis
ten to the rolun at the bird fancier's,
and try to imagine ourselves back in the
rural districts again."
But Daffodil trying to smile as she
tied her pink bonnet-strings, did not
tell him ot the long visit she had from
old Mrs. Mudge, who declared that
"she had al'ys loved John Grey as if he
had bean her own son," and had pro
ceeded to edify his bride with a circum
stantial account of all the mischief ho
had gotten into, all the love-tangles in
which he had been involved, all the
half-ougagoniauts into which he had
been drawn, until poor Daffodil felt as
if her John Grey and tliis gay Lothario
must be two quiet different beings.
"And we all supposed, my dear,"
said Mrs. Mudge, comfortably taking
snuff, "that he was to marry Olive Dod
worth, the actress, when he up and
brought you home. Dear, dear! what
flirts men are! Ain't they now, my
dear?"
"I—suppose so," said poor Daffodil,
intent upon the stitches of her strip of
embroidery.
"I hope you'll come and see me
often," said Mrs. Mudge, setting down
her tea-cup and Baking up her big red
shawl.
"I shall be very happy, t' said Daffo
dil.
"And we'll have ever so many nice
confidential chats," said Mrs. Mudge.
"Yes," said Daffodil, faintly.
And after Mrs. Mudge had gone away
poor Daffodil sat and wondered what
made her so wretched. She could hear
some one moving about overhead. Some
one had told her that a young artist had
just rented the top floor of the Fontaine
Flats.
She wondered vaguely what he was
like, and whether, he too, was a human
butterfly lighting on every flower and
constant to none.
She asked herself whether fat Mr.
Smith, who went out from the suite of
apartments below every day with a silk
umbrella under his arm,dyed mustaches
and a smoothly-shaven chin, had his
amiable weaknesses likewise.
"I almost wish," said Daffodil to
herself, "that I had remained unmar
ried. Nc I don't either! I—l don't
know what I do wish!
So, woman-like, Daffodil had begun
to cry. . ,
But the pleasant twilight walk in the
park, and the melodious whistle of the
robin at the bird fancier's, had cheered
her up again, for the time being.
MIMJI KIM. PA., THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 1881.
But she could not be blind to the fiu't
that John was not with her HO much as
during the five weeks after their mar
riage. Now ami again of an evening he
woiUd be absent without a Huflieient ex
ouse, iuid, with a smothered pang at her
heart, Daffodil had thought of Olive
Dodworth, the brilliant young actress,
even then playing at one of the minor
city theaters.
"Does he care for her yet?" Daffodil
asked herself; and there came 110 satis
factory answer to the query.
And so it happened that to-niglit, as
she stood among the geraniums, looking
out at the sunset, she was not quite
happy.
"In old times," said this bride of six
months to herself, "John was always
home to take me for a walk in the
twilight. He never thinks of it now.
Were Aunt Jocasta and Mrs. Mudge
right, after all? Was man a delusion,
and life a dreary series of disappoint
ments?
As these dispiriting reflections pass
ed tlirougli her mind, she was startled
by the unexpected sound of a footstep
011 the floor—a footstep too light and
elastic to be that of lier husband.
She turned, and was amazed to see,
in the indistinct light, the tall figure of
a beautiful young lady, richly dressed,
and wearing such a Parisian'bonnet as
poor Daffodil had never seen before.
"Pardon me for intruding," said the
lady, with a royal air, "but are these
Mr. Grey's rooms?"
"They are," said Daffodil, summon
ing all the dignity at her control, and
secretly wondering if this might not be
the tnte noire of her thoughts and fan
cies—Miss Dodworth. "But I did not
hear you knock."
"I did not knock," said the anony
mous fair one, with hauteur.
Daffodil colored:
"I am Mrs. Grey," said she quickly.
"Pardon me," said the lady, "I am
Mrs. Grey. I suspected something of
tliis new order of things," with a con
temptuous curl of her hp, "and I have
came on from Chicago to counteract it."
"Madame," said Daffodil, standing
very erect, although she could feci her
self trembling all over, "you must l>e
insane! I was married to Mr. Grey 011
the flrst day of last January."
The lady laughed—a hard, mirthless
laugh."
"Indeed!" said she. And I was mar
ried to him cm the 6tli of Octol)er, two
years ago. Poor child!" as the pallor
overspread Daffodil's countenance, "I
don't suppose you are to blame, but in
this hard world we have to suffer for one
another's crimes. Where is he?"
"I—don't know," faintly admitted
the bride.
"Humpli!" said the lady compressing
her lips. "He is at his old tricks, I see.
Wall T can wait. Y<m don't ujk im> to
be seated, but I shall take that liberty
without your permission."
And she sat down, flinging back the
folds of her rich India shawl, while Daf
fodil watched her with silent dismay.
Was this true? Had John Grey really
deceived her? He whom she had loved
so entirely, trusted so infinitely? If this
was really so, there was 110 truth in all
the world!
The shadows gradually deepened; the
clock on the mantel ticked as busily as
if it were running a race against time—
and still the two sat there, silent,speech
less, each dreading, yet longing, to hear
John Grey's footsteps 011 the stairs.
At last he came.
Sitting in the dark, pet?" he cried,
merrily, as he crossed to the mantel and
lighted the gas-jet. "I ulust see your
dear little face, for I have something to
tell you which—"
He checked himself abruptly, for at
that moment he caught sight of the pale
beautiful stranger in the Parisian hat
and glistening Indian shawl. He turned
to Daffodil.
"Who is this lady," he asked.
"I do not know her," she answered.
"Do not you?"
"Never saw her before in all my life!"
said Grey, in unfeigned amazement.
The lady rose a little nervously.
"Is— thin gentleman your husband?"
she said, the color varying on her cheek.
"He is," Daffodil mechanically re
plied.
"There is some mistake," said the
stranger, with visible embarrassment.
"This is not the Mr. Grey I mean. My
Mr. Grey is short and dark, with a heavy
beard—Richard Richardson Grey—and
The young husband struck his hand
on the table, as if an idea hud suddenly
occurred to him.
"With a slight cast in one eye?" said
he. "All artist, is he not?"
"Exactly!" cried the India-shawled
beauty.
"He occupies the suite of rooms di
rectly "above lis," said he. "He moved
in last month."
"Then, said the lady, "I have mis
taken the flat. Pray, pray"—to Daffo
dil—"forgive me!"
But Daffodil oould only laugh hysteri
cally, and hide lier head 011 her hus
band's shoulder.
And not until the door had been closed
behind the stranger, did John Grey ex-
claim:
"Poor fellow 1 I have heard some
thing of this. She torments the life out
of him, with potty exactions and un
founded jealousies. She follows him
ground the world like a Nemesis. I'm
glad you are not like her, my pretty
Daffodil!"
And then he went on to tell his wife
how he had been working busily all this*
time to earn enough, by extra labor at
his profession to buy a little one-storied
cottage, in the suburbs of the city, with
a tiny garden attached, where there was
an apple tree, a thicket of moss-roses
all in bud, but a little summer house all
braided over with glossy woodbine.
"I signed the papers to-day, Daffodil, '
said he. "We can move in next week,
just in time for the roses and straw
berries. Dear one, I know you have
been-homesick for green grass and bird
songs all this time, and have longed a
score of times to tell you of all that was
in my mind; but it would have spoiled
this glad surprise."
And all that Daffodil could say was:
"Oil, John—dear Jolin—l am so
happy!"
From Seriau to Waterloo.
From Sedan, the grave of the Third
Empire, to Waterloo, the grave of the
First, is but a short day's journey.
Having left Sedan at 8 A. M., this morn
ing, I have already reached Les Quatre
Bras with four hours of daylight before
me. Leaving the railway at Charlcroi,
1 there took a carriage and followed the
poplar-lined highway which leads from
Charleroi to Brussels, through Quatre
Bras and Waterloo. It washy this road
that Ney advanced, while Napoleon,
also starting from Charlcroi, took to the
right, that leading through Fleurus to
Ligny. At Les Quatre Bras the high
road from Charleroi to Brussels cuts
that from Nivelles to Namur at right
angles.
Already 011 the evening of June 15,
Ney's advanced guard commenced the
attack 011 the allied position at Quatre
Bras, which at that moment was defend
ed by a single battalion of Orange Nas
sauers, commanded by the gallant young
Prince of Weimar, who did such good
service on the English left at the battle
of Waterloo. Had Ney continued his
attack he must have carried the position,
but his men were tired, and he believed
that the post was defended by a strong
force,
When the attack was renewed the fol
lowing morning the Prince of Weimer
was strongly reinforced by Dutch and
Brunswickers, whose Duke, as all the
world knows, was killed here at the head
of his troops. It was not till the early
part of the afternoon that any English
troops reached the scene of action, the
first to arrive and stem the tide of the
advancing French being the Reserve
Division under Pietou, from Brussells,
consisting of Pack® and Kemp's Bri
gades. About SP. M. Cooke's Division
of Byng's and Mai Baud's Brigades of
Guards arrived, with Halkett's Brigade,
all by the Nivelles road. No English
cavalry arrived in time to take part in
the action, during the earlier part of
which the French Lancers galloped
clean through the allied ]>ositiou at Qua
tre Bras, and nearly captured the Duke
of Wellington, wholiad arrived at atniut
10 A. M., in Picton's division.
The action not having commenced at
that hour, the 1 rode off by the
Namur road toward Ligny to consult
with Bluclier, who mounted with the
Duke into a windmill, whence they sur
veyed Napoleon's of his forces
just before the commencement of the
battle of Ligny. From alsmt noon, June
id, to nightfall, the battles of Ligny
and Quatre Bras were fought simultane
ously, resulting in a French victory at
Ligny, and a drawn battle at Quatre
Bras, where the English passed the night
on the field of battle, the French retir
ing 011 the village of Frasnes. Had Na
poleon advanced on Quatre Bras at early
dawn 011 the 17th, and had Ney renewed
his attack simultaneously, the English
must have been taken between the two
fires and the position carried. As it
was, Napoleon failed to put his army in
motion from Ligny till the afternoon of
the 17th, which gave the English ample
time to retire leisurely 011 Waterloo.
Captain Siborne, in his well-known his
tory of the Waterloo campaign, relates
that so high was the rye at the battle of
Quatre Bras, that the English infantry
were completely concealed by it. I have
just measured the height of the finest
crop of rye I ever beheld growing 011 the
Waterloo road, and found it to be seven
feet high.
11l another letter from the field of
Waterloo, written on the following day,
our correspondent says:
In his admirable lectures 011 the Wa
terloo campaign, Colonel Cliesney is, as
far as I know, the first English writer
who does full justice to the importance
of the part played by the Prussians at
Waterloo. As you approach the field
from Quatre Bras, about a milo before
reaching La Belle Alliance, you perceive
on your right, lying about 1000 yards
oft" the high road, a village half concealed
iu a wooded hollow, from which the
church spire emerges conspicuously.
The name of this village is Planeenoit,
and round that church took place the
fiercest and bloodiest fighting which
June 18 witnessed. Between 4.30 P. M.
and 8.30 —/. r., in four hours—the Prus
sians lost more men than the English
during the whole day, the Prussian loss
in killed and wounded being about 0,300,
that of the English, exclusive of the
allies, 6,100.
There were, in fact, two battles of
Waterloo—the battle of Mount St. Jean
and the battle of Planeenoit —and Na
poleon liad to do with two distinct
armies. It is commonly believed in
England that the Prussians merely came
up at the close of the day, and assisted
the English to crown their victory ; but
it is the fact that Bulow's corps came
seriously into action by 4.30 P. M., and
that twelve out of the twenty-four bat
talions of the Imperial Guard, besides
Loban's corps and several other divisions,
were detached to Planeenoit, on the
French extreme right, at the very mo
ment tliey were most required to take
part in the assault of the Allied position
on the ridge of Mount St. Jean in front
From that ridge of Mount St. Jean,
where I am now writing in the calm of
ail early summer's morning, the village
of Planeenoit is quite invisible, and on
the day of the battle the English were
quite unaware of the earlier stages of the
Prussian fighting there. It was not till
i
Ziethen's Hussars coming from Wavre
! touched the extreme English left 011 the
i Chain road, at about 7 P. M., that the
Duke of Wellington received the wel
oome intelligence of the arrival of the
Prussians on the field.
Compared with that of Bedan, the
battlefield of Waterloo is on a wonder
fully small scale, and easily to be appre
hended. At Sedan the circumference of
the field is at least fourteen miles, com
prising about a dozen villages, completely
hidden from each other by intervening
heights. At Waterloo the whole fields,
exclusive of the village of Planeenoit,
may lie taken in at a glance. The French
position on the ridge of La Belle Alli
ance was but 1,2(10 yards from that of
the English on the ridge of Mount St.
Jean, and the extreme length of both
positions, from east to west, #'. e., from
Smoham to Hougomont, was about
2,500 yards. The intervening valley,
which is but a slight depression, was
converted into a quagmire by the tre
mendous rainfall 01 1 the afternoon and
evening of the 17th, the ground being
impassable by cavalry and artillery in
the early part of the day of the 18th.
The state of the ground wus extremely
disadvantageous to Napoleon's uttack,
which was thereby delayed till 11 A. M.
That the French, with a total force of
aliout 70,(MX) men, should have failed to
force the strong jiositioii on which the
English, nearly equal to themselves in
numliers, were jnisted in front, having
at the same time to detach about a third
of their strength to meet the 35,(KM)
Prussians who fell on their right fiank
and took part in the fight of Planeenoit,
with 40,(MX) more Prussians arriving
later on the field, cannot surely l>e con
sidered any reproach to French valor.
A I.ecrh Farm.
In 1841 Mr. Witte, established a
small leech farm in Kent Avenue, Wil
liamsburg, L. I. In course of time this
small establishment was abandoned, and
one of thirteen acres was established
near Newton, L. L. and to him the
writer is indebted for the following in
formation and description of the only
leech farm in America. The breeding
{lends consist of oblong squares of one
and a half acres each. The bottoms of
these ponds are of clay, the margins of
peat. In June the leeches Wgin form
ing their cocoons on the peat margins
nt tliv jfUilOl.
The greatest enemies to the yunug
leeches are musk rats, water rats, and
water shrews, who dig the cocoons out
of the soft peat breeding margins. Next
to rats and shrews is overheating of the
peat or the water of the pond. In fact,
nothing is so fatal to leeches as a too
high temperature. Mr. Witte says he
has had leeches frozen in solid ice, but
bv slow ly dissolved the ice and gradually
increasing the temperature of the water
the leeches sustained no injury. The
depth of the water iu the ponds during
the summer is three feet; in winter time
the depth of water increased to avoid
freezing.
The leeches are fed every six montlis
011 fresh blood placed in thin linen bags,
which are suspended in the water. The
leeches, as soon as they smell the blood,
aseemhle from all parts of the ]>oiid, and
attaching themselves to the outside of
the bag, suck the dissolving coagulated
blood through the linen. Digestion pro
ceeds very slowly with the leech, during
which time the blood remaing undigest
ed in tin* stomach of the leech is in a
fluid state, as if taken in. The exere
mental deposits are of a grass-green
color. The best substance for packing
leeches in is the peat of their natural
ponds made iuto a stiff mud. Water
containing tannin, tannic acid, lime,salt,
or brakisli water, must lie guarded against
always; iron is not objectionable, but is
an advantage in small quantities.
The demand for leeches in the last
few years has somewhat fallen off in the
Eastern and Southern States. The
Western States and California are now
the heaviest buyers. Mr. Witte's sales
alone average a thousand a day. The
number of leeches imported into the
United States amounts to about thirty
thousand yearly.
The custom of stripping and salting
leeches, to cause them to disgorge after
having been applied, has passed away,
as many well established cases have oc
curred of infectious diseases having been
communicated on the application of the
same leech to a second party. A very
popular error exists that a leecli when
applied takes only the bad blood (what
ever that may be) and rejects the good;
this is a mistake. With a leech blood
is blood, be it the cold blood of a fish or
the warm blood of a human being, no
matter how diseased that human being
may be. So long as blood is not tainted
or putrid tlio leech will thrive 011 it. A
friend of mind, who was the proprietor
of a large leech-breeding establishment
at the foot of the Hartz Mountains,when
wishing to feed his leeches, was in the
habit of hiring poor laborers, at six
cents per day, to stand in the water for
half an hour nearly up to their thighs,
that the leeches might obtain a full gor
ging of human blood.
In the marshy lands of Roumania the
wild leeches are captured by means of
men entering the water and allowing the
wild leeches to fasten on to their naked
bodies. The leech fishers then strip
them oft' after reaching the shore.
In Olden Times
Paj>er-liuiigingM were originally just
what their name indicates —viz., strips
of paper suspended from the ceiling in
such a manner as to cover the imper
fections of the walls. They were used
exclusively in the houses of the rich ;
the poor inun in his hut had no such
device, but must needs patch a hole to
keep the winds away. The carpets of
our forefathers once consisted of rushes,
among which the dogs hunted for the
bones that had l>eeu thrown upon the
floor.
111 England, one end of the hall was
the kennel for the hounds, and above it
the perch for hawks. In the reign of
Queen ElizaWth, the-host at table used
to hold the joint of lieef with one hand
and the carving-knife with the other,
transferring the meat to the plates of
his guests with his fingers, as forks were
not yet in use. Those who first adopted
forks were much ridiculed. Some said
the Bible was opposed to it, and it was
an insult to the Almighty to use a fork
when He had given them fingers.
The art of making glass is of high an
tiquity, but it belonged to modern in
genuity to develop the value of the in
vention, and to apply it to a multitude
of important, and in some cases indis
pensable, uses. Not many centuries
ago, window-glass was only found in the
houses of the very rich ; its use began
in palaces. For a long time it was so
scarce that at Alnwick Castle, in 1567,
the glass w as ordered to tie taken out of
the windows and laid up in safety when
the lord was absent.
There was another luxury, so expen
sive that for more than two thousand
years it remained completely aliove the
reach of the poor, and none but the
wealthy could indulge in its use. We
mean eottoi clotli! The material of
which the clotli was made was both
plenty and easily obtained, as is the
ease with glass ; but the cost of manu
facturing made it very dear. If a
Grecian lady could awake from her sleep
of two thousand years, her astonishment
would be unbounded to see a simple
country girl clothed with a calico dress,
a muslin kerchief, and a colored shawl!
Within the past one hundred years,
machinery has lieen invented which has
made printed cotton so perfect, so
plenty, and so cheap, that the humble
servant-girl can wear a better calico
gown than Cleopatra ever saw !
When the whole stock of a carpenter's
tools was valued at one shilling, and
consisted altogether of two broadaxes,
an adze, a square and a spoke-shave, we
must expect to find rough work and
none but rough dwelling-houses ; when
there were no chimneys, and the fire
was laid against the wall, with the smoke
to issue out at the roof, the door, or the
window, and the people slept on straw
pallets, with a log of wood for a pillow,
we naturally expect rough manners,
unwholesome food, and a great lack of
tidiness. This was the condition of the
English people in the reign of Edward
111. Even the nobility went without
sliairs and tables, and sat upon the j
chests that contained their clothes and 1
linen. The skill of other trades was 011
a level with that of the carpenter, and
agriculture was as low in the scale as
any of the arts. The first sawmill in
England was built by a Dutchman, but
the opposition of the men who worked
by hand was so great that he had to pull
it down. 111 1767 another was erected,
but a mob tore it down. So progress
has everywhere liatl to overcome obsta
cles. 111 1390, some friars iu Switzer
land wished to build a windmill, to save
the labor of grinding corn by hand ; but
a neighboring landlord, who had bought
the country around, forbade them, be
cause, lie said, he owned the winds, j
The bishop was appealed to, who said
that the winds belonged to the church
and could not be used. A writer, of
good authority, speaking of the times of
Henry VIII., says there is 110 doubt
that the average duration of human life
was, at that period, not one-half as long ,
as it is at the present day. The kings j
and nobility of a few centuries ago
possessed their crowns and liigh-sotlnd
ing titles; but there is not, in the
United States, a prosperous mechanic,
Ijossessing a fair degree of refined taste
and education, who would desire to ex
change his manner of life and living for
theirs, so far as the conveniences of life
are concerned! Thus it is that art is
ever at work, breaking down the barriers
which stand between the rich and the
poor, and bringing both classes more
and more toward a common level—not
by degrading the wealthy, but by exalt
ing both classes to a higher standard of
morality, refinement and education.
Skull Measurement.
Professor Flower, the well-known En
glish anatomist, has published some fur
ther results of his researches with refer
ence to the human skull. He states that
the largest normal skull he has ever
measured was as much as 2,075 cubic
centimeters; the smallest, 960 cubic cen
timeters, this belonging to one of those
pecular people in the center of Ceylon
who are now nearly extinct. The larg
est average capacity of any human head
he has measured is that of a race of long
flatheaded people on the west coast of
Africa. The Laplanders and Esquimaux,
though a very small people, have very
large skulls, the latter giving an average
measurement of 1,546. The English skull,
of the lower grades, shows 1,542 ; the
Japanese, 1,486; Chinese, 1,424; modern
Italian, 1,475; ancient Egyptian, 1,464;
Hindoos, 1,306.
Table Htlqnette.
There are a great man j people who be*
hare well otherwise, bat at table they do
things that if not absolutely outre and en
semble, are at least pianissimo and sine
die.
it is with a view to derating the popu
lar taste and etherealizing, so to speak, the
manners and customs of our readers, that
we give below a few hints upon eti
quette.
If by writing an article of this kind we
can induce one man who now wipes his
hands on the table cloth to come up and
take higher ground, and wipe them on his
pants, we shall feel amply repaid.
if you cannot accept an invitation to
dinner, do not write your regrets on the
back of a pool check with a blue pencil.
This is now regarded as ricochet.
A simple note to your host informing
him that your washerwoman refuses to re
lent is sufficient.
On seating yourself at the table draw off
your gloves and put them in your lap
under your napkin. Do not put them in
the gravy, as it would ruin the gloves and
cast a gloom over the gravy. If you have
just cleaned your gloves with benzine, you
might leave them out in the front yard.
If you happen to drop gravy on your
knife-blade, back near the handle, do not
run the blade down your throat to remove
the gravy, as it might injure your epiglot
tis, and is not considered embonpoint,
anyway.
When you are at dinner do not take up
a raw oyster on your fork and playfully
ask your host if it is dead. Remarks
about death at dinner are in very poor
taste.
Pears should be held by the stem and
peeled gently but firmly, not as though
you were skinning a dead horse. It is not
boa ten.
Oranges are held on a fork while being
pulled, and the facetious style of squirting
the juice into the eye of your hostess is now
au i e voir,
Stones in cherries or other fruit should
not be placed on the table cloth, but slid
quietly and unostentatiously into the pocket
of your neighbor or noiselessly tossed un
der the table.
if you strike a worm in your fruit do
not call attention to it by mashing it with
the nut-craker. Ibis is not only uncouth,
but it is regarded in the best society as
blase and excedingly vice versa.
Macaroni should be cut into short pieces
and eaten with an even, graceful motion,
not absorbed by the yard.
la drinking wine, when you get to the
bottom of your glass do not throw your
head back and draw in your breath like the
exhaust of a bath tub in order to get the
last drop, as it engenders a feeling of the
most depressing melancholy among the
guests.
After eating a considerable amount do
not rise and unbuckle your vest strap in
order to get more room, as it is exceeding
ly au fait and dishabille.
If by mistake you drink out of your fin
ger bowl, laugh heartily and make some
Tacetnms will chance the
course of conversation and renew the
friendly feeling among the members of the
party,
Ladies should take but one glass of wine
at dinner. Otherwise there might be diffi
culty in steering the male portion of the
procession home.
Do not make remarks about the amount
your companion has eaten. If the lady
who is your companion at table, whether
she be your wife or the wife of some one else,
should eat quite heartily, do not offer to
pay your host for his loss or say to her,
"Great Soott! I hope you will not kill
yourself because you have the opportunity,"
but be polite and gentlemanly, even though
the food supply be cut off for a week.
If one of the gentlemen should drop a
raw oyster into his bosom aud he should
have trouble in fishing it out, do not make
facetious remarks about it, but assist him
to find it, laughing heartily all the time.
Broad Tires for Wheels.
Moderately broad wheels are prefer
able to narrow tires for use of heavy
wagons. To run in narrow ruts a wagon
with broad tires would not be desirable,
yet in our opinion tires three and a half
inches in width would prove of easier
draught than those measuring two inches
wide. Of course the load is no heavier
with the use of the wide tire, but is dis
tributed over a surface of three and a
half inches in plaoe of two inches. The
resistance would be about the same in *
both cases, though in the case of the
wide tire distributed over nearly double
the surface. The depression caused by
the broad tires would not exceed one
half that caused by the narrow ones.
This cutting made by the narrow tires
increases the draught to an extent far
beyond the common estimate. As the
cutting up of the roads is lessened
through the use of broad tires, the cost
of their maintenance is considerably di
minished.
This important principle is so far
recognized in England that a less rate
of tolls is exacted from teams with
broad wheels than from those with nar
row tires, thus paying a premium on the
use of broad tires. For farm purposes
broas tires are decidedly preferable to
narrow wheels No one cares to have
his grass lands cut up by wheels if it can
be avoided—an injury which is more
likely to be inflicted by broad than by
narrow wheels. A team supplied with
the broad tires will draw a load of ma
nure with far greater ease over fallow
ground than that with the narrow tires,
by reason of the diminished amount of
cutting in the ground. The question of
broad and narrow tires appears simple
enough at first sight, but it has long
been our opinion that whatever will tend
to improve the condition of our roads
without increasing the expanse, that will
reduce the labor of horses, and thereby
lessen a very serious co st, ought to en
gage the attention of men capable of
solving such a problem. A year ago an
attempt was made in the legislature of
this State to regulate the width of the
wheels of heavy vehicles, but the bill
was defeated by those who should have
known better.
NO. 37.