VOL. LY. HARTER, AUCTIONEER, REBERSBURG. PA. J C. SPRINGER. Fashionable Barber, Next Door to JOURNAL Store, MILLHKIH, PA. gROCKERHOFF HOUSE, (Opposite Court House.) H. BROCKEBHOFF f Proprietor WM. MCKKKVKK, Manager. Good sample rooms ou first floor. Free bus to and from all traius. Special rates to jurors and witnesses. Strictly First Class. IRVIN HOUSE. (Moat Central Hotel in the Cityj Corner MAIN and JAY Streets, Lock Haven, Fa. 8. WOODS CALWKLL, Proprietor. Good Sample Rooms for Commercial Travelers on first floor. D. H. MINGLE, Physician and Surgeon, MAIN Street, MILLUKIM, Pa. JJ R - JOHN F. HARTER. PRACTICAL DENTIST, Otfiee In 2d story of Tomliusou's Gro cery Store, On MAIN Street, MILLHEIM, Pa. C. T. Alexander. C. M. Bower. A BOWER, ATTORNEYS AT LAW. BELLKFONTR, PA. Office in G&rm&n'a new tiulldlng. JOHN B. LINN, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLKFONTK, PA. Office on Allegheny Street. OLEMENT DALE, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLKFONTK, PA Northwest corner of Diamond. Y°C UM & HASTINGS, ATTORNEYS AT LAW, BELLKFONTK, PA. High Street, opposite First National Bank. C. HEINLE, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLKFONTK, PA Practices in all the courts of Centre County. Bpec al attention to Collections, consultations in German or English. ILBUR F * REEDER, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLKFONTK, PA All business promptly attended to. CoUectlon of claims a speciality. J. A. Beaver. J W. Gephart. JJEAVEK A GEPHART, ATTORNEYS AT LAW, BELLKFONTK, PA Office on Alleghany Street, North of High. A. MORRISON, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLKFONTK, PA Office on Woodrlng's Block, Opposite Court House. JJ S.KELLER, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BELLKFONTK, PA Consultations In English or German. Ofllce In Lyon's Building, Allegheny Street. J OHN G. LOVE, ATTORNEY AT LAW, O BELLKFONTK, PA Office in the rooms formerly occupied by the late W. p. Wilson. ADVERTISE IN THE Millheim Journal. R ATES ON APPLICATI ON. iie mmrnrn YOUTH ANl> ACJE. VN lieu I was young! All woeful wlieu! All for the haur*' 'tvuxt now and llieu 1 This breath lug house not built with hands, This body, that does mo grievous wroug. O'er aery eltffa and glittering sanda How lightly thou It Hashed aloug! I.lke those trun skills, uuknowu of yore. On winding lakes ami rivers wide; That ask no aid of sail or oar. Naught eared this body for wind or weather When Youth and 1 lived tuT together. Flowers are lovely, Love Is flower-like, Friendship is a sheltering tree, o the Joys that came down shower-like. Of Friendship. Love and Liberty, Ere 1 w as old 1 Kre I was old : ah, mournful ere. Which tells uie. Youth's uo longer here! 0 Youth! for years so many and sweet, 'Tls known that thou and 1 were one - I'll think it but a fond conceit; ft cannot be that thou art gone ! Thy vesper bell liaih uot yet loll'd; And thou wert aye a masker bold. What strange disguise hast uow put ou. To make believe thou art gone ? 1 see these locks iu silvery slips, This drooping gait, this altered size; Hut springtide blossoms ou thy lips, And tears take sunshine from thine eyes ! Life Is but thought! so think I will. That Youth and 1 are housemates still! — N. T. Co/en'dye. BETWEEN THE Til>KS. A flawless Jay was the 23d of April in the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and seventy-nine. "The regulation morn ing breeze had been lured into the jH>p py fields of Angel Island, and put to sleep by the narcotic kisses of Circle And even the Zephyrs—gentle pages to the era-while brawlers —had l>een shut up in the weather clerk's aignal-box un til 3 o'clock in the afternoon. Then the yachts came out, and the Zephyrs were released. It was not very good weather for sailing that the Zephyrs made, though they blew till their rosy cheeks were like soap bubbles, and the white sails were filled with scented breath. The lumbering schooners staggered in zig zag pathways, as if they meant to slice awav the island noses v ith their dull prows; and, indeed, the yachts sailed scarcely any faster, only the little plung ers made unchecked headway, running at their own sweet will, it seemed. Tho north harbor was dotted with sails. Everybody and everybody's wife and children and friends were out. So there there was nothing strange about the mere presence of a young man and a young womau in a small rowboat amid the scene of lazy commerce and busy gayety. Certainly it was not strange, for there were a hundred other people out that afternoon in rowlioats, to say nothing of the professional boatmen, the men with sculls and the rowing clubs. If the people on the yachts which they met noticed them, they doubtless viewed them with pity mingled with contempt, or else looked at them artistically, and thanked God for poverty and the pictu resque. As for the couple in the boat, they did not notice anything but each other—at least except as the young man found it necessary to change his direction in row ing to avoid being run down. After a while even this became unnecessary. They were rowing with the ebb tide,and after they hail passed the newly-finished bit of sea-wall east of the old Meiggs wharf, the channel was comparatively clear. It-was then about half-past three. "Let us float," said the young man; "pretty soon the tide will turn; then we will turn." "Very well, Tom," said the young woman. lteally, she was as yet a girl. She could not have been more than nineteen. Her figure was slight, but indicative of rare gracefulness. Her face was not pretty—that is, most would not think it pretty. Both mouth and nose were large. Her eyes were blue and held an odd look —half earnest, half careless—difficult to define, yet impossible to disregard. It was a striking face, almost fascinating, withal a good face—a face in which heart showed first and intellect after ward. The man was, exteriorly, common place. You might take a description at random from your scrap book of conven tional current fiction, and it would be likely to do him more than justice. But what of that. She was "Laura" and lie was "Tom!" They had been talking gayly ever since they left the landing at the foot of Washington street. When Tom spoke they hail apparently reached some com mon and very satisfactory conclusion, for she looked very happy, and she said tenderly—for she had a sweet, low voice, tunable as a perfect bell or a wave sob; "You will ask her to-morrow, Tom?" "Yes, Laura, or to-night, if yon like." "She will look at you wild-eyed and perhaps scold you a bit." "Oh, lam not afraid. How could I be with such a prize to gain ?" They had passed the point, the swim ming beach, the Presido; they were nearing the fort at the gate. A sudden swirl in the current twisted the bow of the boat sharply around. Tom had been leaning forward, the better to talk to Laura,the more easily to hold her hand, perhaps. As the boat shifted its di rection. he instinctively reached for the oars. His hands touched the empty row locks. The oars were gone. He looked around, but they were nowhere to be seen, A cry of horror rose to his lips. Luckily he stilled it there. He looked quickly, furtively at his companion. She had seen and understood. He forced a MILLHEIM. PA., THURSDAY, OCTOBER 6,1881. laugh, and his companion wan deceived by it. "Thou it was tint so wry bud?'" alio said, and the color came back to lier cheeks. "No, it is a good joke, he replied. "Only we will be out rather lat ". \\ hen the the tide turns we will go buck boom ing." Really he hud very little hope. His judgment told him that the tide had not vet turned, atul unless it did turn almost instantly, the swift current would earry them out into the oiling, and amid the breakers at the bar, where their trail boat would not live an instant. And then —. lb' could not swim a stroke. If he could, the distance to the shore was too fur to make that ot auv use. Il only they had a rudder thev might run the bout asliorejbut, unfortunately, they had been in time to secure only the very last, rudderless skiff. "Thank the fates it does not leak." "Does not leak?" He looked down, and, and saw that the ir regular I>ottorn of the boat was covered with water to the depth of almost half u foot. When they had started aw ay from the pier landing Tom hud braced his feet against a broad crosa-eleet, and and Laura's stout boot rested on the same dry foothold. Until then neither had noticed the water. Tom had searched the bottom of the bout for a bailing-can. He could not find one. Laura moved so as to look in the little locker under the stcru scat. There was no can there. "What shall we do?" she said. "I must bail with my hat," lie replied slowly, as if thinking it out; "the water must come in very slowly, it is a long time since we left Washington street wharf." He looked at his watch; it was then past four and they were nearly op posite Fort Point. So far as they could see there was not a single sail iu the oftiiug: They looked back at the city; there were uo out-comiugtugs or steam ers, or schoouers even. Then they KM ik ed out through the gate and wondered. There is an untranslatable jiootie some thing al>out our Golden Gate that the sympathetic beholder, incoming or out going, or gazing upon it from any stand point, never fails to realize— something which, perhaps, he acknowledges, but may never put into fitting phrases. Per haps it is because it seems so to hold the keys of our California life, that we may not dissociate it from eitherour his tory or our future. Perhaps it is because in looking at it one can never quite dis cern its big beyond, of weal or of woe, of sunshine or of tempest. "We should uever have had this sun set anywhere else, Laura," and Tom pointed to the declining sun, hanging without a cloud ahove the wilderness of waves. They looked hack at the city, and all the western windows were adamc. "I did not think there was so much gold in 'Frisco," said Tom. "Oh, Tom, I don't want to die and leave it all," said Laura, tremblingly. The dallying breeze had shaken ofl'the spell. The air had grown suddenly chill. Far ahead they could see the ominous white of the careening swell, ami long the shore they heard the dull boom of the surf. Lower and lower sank the white, electric dazzle ;buff and pink, and orange toning into narrow belts of opal. Right ahead rose the black Farallones, and as the sun still sank lower, they stood out in unkroken outline against the disk. With his soft hat Tom made slow progress in bailing. Until then the water had oozed in so slowly that danger from leakage had not alarmed him until then; the current, too, had carried them along so gently that the dinger of upset ting had not presented itself. Rut after they passed the fort the motion of the waves changed, net suddenly but gradu ally, until at last the boat was rocking like a cedar chip in the eddies of a mill race. And still the tide had not turned. Ceasing his bailing for an instant, Tom thought he heard the sound of water trickling iuto the boat. Perhaps it was his instinct of danger and not his ears that warned him, for the waves were splashing against the outside, ami the motion caused a constant lapping of the water within the boat. Tom made a careful examination, and at last found a hole through which the water poured in a fitful stream as to the boat rocked from side to side. "I must stop that leak," he said. "Can you bail ?" The sun had set, and the flush was fading out of the western sky. Laura took one long look around. In all the waste of waters there was no moving object. If there had been a ship in sight she could have seen it, she thought, al most despairingly. She began to bail as well as she could, with the felt hat, and in her cramped position. A long lin§ of gray was com ing up from the south. "It is fog," said Tom, whisper. Until he said, "it is fog," she did not realize the almost utter hopelessness of their position. Even if the bar, it would be impossible to protect them selves in a fog. For a moment she tliougt she should quite break down, the fate before them seemed so terrible. Tom had succeeded in stopping the leak, and had resumed bailing. To make that task easier, he had cut the brim from his hat. The fog was now all around them, and 'it was quite dark. They thought they beard the surf more distinctly. "The tide has turned," said Tom. And so it had,but just how they would be affected by the change they could uot tell. Tom kept on | bailing until the amount of water liadi materially decreas ed. Thev had not spoken to each other for some moments. At lust Laura leaned forward. Her hand touched Tom's, and he took it HI its own. That baud-clasp meant to them things unspeakable. Her hand was very cold, almost as cold as his own. In his pocket was a silk hand kerchief; lie handed it to her, and bade her tie it about her qeck, for he dared not rise to fasten it there himself. Then lie took both her hands between his own striving to keep them warm. Laura was the first to speak, and her voice was quite even sor rowful: "Tom, dear.lt do uot want to die; and yet death cannot take from us the boon of baling died together." "But we shall not die now, Laura; I know we'll not." There was the ring of conviction in his tones. The profound resignation underlying her words haeen started with one steamer, the Rothesay, which rans from Cape Vincent to Alexandria Bay, and thence on to Ogdenshurg and Morrisburg. At the latter place, which is eighteen miles below Ogdensburg, a transfer of passengers is made to a smaller steamer, for the purpose of running the rapids on the way to Mon treal. Great rivalry exists between these two lines. Last Tuesday the Royal Mail Line steamer Spartan started from Pres cott on her trip down the river. Shortly after the Rothesay of the American Line left Ogdensburg. The Rothesay was perhaps two miles behind the Spar tan. At Ogdensburg or Prescott the current proper of the St. Lawrence be gins. Both boats dashed along under full steam. Before long it was evident that the Rothesay was gaining. How ever, she did not fully approach till just at the commencement of the rapid De flau, some seventy-two miles below Ogdensburg. Common prudence would have caused the captain of the Rothe say to slacken speed till the rapids were passed. But, no ! steadily the steamer went ahead, until she came abreast the Spartan and but a few feet distant, when conversation was carried on between the passengers. The current at this point is very swift, and the channel narrow, tortuous and full of dangerous rocks. The current pushed both boats together till the paddle boxes touched and thus joined together the two boats passed down the rapids. At one moment the rapids, pressing the bows in together, would careen the boats outward, till it seemed as if they mast capsize, and then the noise of the rudder chains and the chafing of the boats impressed one with the idea that two monsters were locked in a death grapple. Several passengers fainted away and all were terribly frightened. Neither boat was able to draw away from the other, and thus fas tened they ran the rapids for four miles. Then the Rothesay, with her wheels stopped, and her side all staved in, floated to one side and steered into the port of Morrisburg. In thu li(i Svm. All the islands in the Red Hen, with the exception of Nowruh, Great llar uish, and Dallaee, are barren rocks, un iuhubitod and without water. Three or four of the largest, between Akubuh and Jiddah, are generally taken possession of during the pilgrim season by water carriers, wood cutters, and fishermen from the main land They erect tem porary habitations for themselves and families, and chiefly live on fish which abound along the coast. They Catch I the fish by nets, hooks, und spears; hut the turtle they generally catch while asleep on the waters, which they ac complish by suddenly turning it upon its bae.k. However, should the turtle l>e disturbed before capture, and disap pear beneath the water, it seldom es capes its pursuers. The turtle is both u slow and awkward swimmer, und is quite defenceless, even iu its own ele ment, when attaeked by an expert di\- er. Each fisherman carries a large net, mode of strong twine, to which is at toehed u long rope about twenty feet in length. With this net iu his left hand, and u short speur in his right, the fish erman dives, pursues, and generally overtakes the turtle which he uiunuges to entangle in the net, und at once hauls it to the surface. In this manner they capture thousands; but they are uot so valuable as an article of food us those procurable in the MtMliterrauean or West Indies. They are caught for the value of their shell, which has liecome a great article of commerce between the lied Sea, Ceylon, and Europe. The na tive turtle of the lied Sea ami Levant, when fully grown, generally weighs from one hundred and fifty to two hun dred jxuinds. The Arabs on the shores of the lied Sea, having never found a dead one, seriously lielieve that the tur tle species are endowed with everlasting life. It is stated as a matter of certain ty that the turtle lives over two hun dred years. In bringing forth its young, nature has taught it to take the same advantage of the saiul and sun as the ostrich in the desert. The female turtle generally selects a soft, sandy spot oil shore, beyond the reach of the tide, where she makes a hollow nest, ill which see deposits I>etween one hundred and twenty and one hundred and fifty fRK 14 , which she covers with sand; and then, like the lazy and selfish cuckoo, she abandons her offspring forever. The turtle and land tortoise are of the same family, for they can faith live in close confinement without fixxl for a jieriod of from twenty-five to thirty days. When this process is adopted in their shipment from their native seas to Europe, they become very weak and lean, and many of them die on being re stored to their liberty. Hand I'aiiitiui; Difuvi. The application of haml-paiuting to accessories of dress is daily gaining fresh importance. The latest novelty is painting on the corner Imm of China silk handkerchiefs. These small pock et foulards are made in Paris of plain red, blue, or ecru for the centre; around this a figured hem is stitched, and this is of printed silk, but the four corner* are always of the same color as the centre On one of these corners comes the painting by hand. The sub jects are very decorative; there are birds of paradise iu a tangle of exotics; chari ots drawn by swans or dolphins, and plenty of white foam splashing up and oven to the centre part of the foulard climbing plants that form a mass of bright color on tlie corner hem, and that diminish as they taper up to the centre; Venus rising from the waves and holding above her head a shell, in the luiilst of which was a large shining pearl. It is the proper thing to exhibit the painted corner. This decoration does not exclude a worked crest and monogram, executed in embroidery on an opposite corner, but not on the hem. A handkerchief of the kind here de scribed costs in Paris from fifteen to eighteen francs. The artist gains from five to ten francs for each subject. I is not supposed easy to finish two in one day, as the painting is as fine as niina turo; but even should three be got through in two days, this is not despi cable employment, and ladies might en deavor to introduce this novelty at home. There also are exhibited new perfumed sachets to be laid on the cen tre of quilts and smaller pocket sachets, now used for cardcases and photos, in stead of the stiff leather and pasteboard, ivory, or tortoise-shell pocket eases of the past. These sachets owe their suc cess to a fragrance with which the lin ings and the inside are impregnated. It is so lasting that a coat front retains the mild perfume long after the sachet has been removed. Sachets are also painted on the outside by hand: they have two pockets, one under each cover; these and the inner fiaps are outlined with silken cord. Another suggestion for the industrious is the application of embossed designs applique on the. quar ters of velvet parasols. They are of stamped satin, tacked on all round the contours with stitches that disappear under a thiu silken cord, which is guid ed round over the first tackings on. We can never have much confidence in the uprightness of others until we have discovered some degree of upright ness in ourselves, Homo UrMiuMklu|(. Now that lace, for trimming all kinds of material, is having its day again af ter long disuse, people who have an cient, luce-bedecked finery laid away, will do well to resurrect the obsolete garments, mid rip off the trimmings to use again. No feature of white lace is more highly vulued than the peculiar creaminesH which is given by age; so it is no matter if a score of years has passed since it saw the light—if time has spared its strength, it is all the more desirable for the use of to-day. It is not u very long time since imitation laces found no market in America. Our English sisters have ornamented their pretty evening dresses with them freely fr the last half-dozen years, but here we have eyed them with scorn and sus picion, till of late, imported dresses of undoubted style converted us to their use. This summer dealers offer us fully twenty-five varieties of imitation lace, many of them exceedingly pretty, and some expensive enough to demand con sideration from those whose admiration for an article is governed by its cost. A dress worn at a Saratoga hotel by one of the visitors in race week recalls a hint for making sueli a dress, given a long time ago iu these articles. The present fancy for lace makes the idea even more worthy of attention than when first mentioned. While the slight cost of the costume, as made at home w ill be its recconnuendation to economists, there is no reason to lielieve that the dress which was admired at the water ing place was inexpensive; on the con trary, the probability is that it was im portod for the wearer. The dress was made of white Brussels net, it was once called, but the nearest approach to the fabric sold as such then is now the fti e mosquito lace, uot the coarse stuff with the square bar, but a net with mesh, like in kind, but not size, to the cane seats of chairs. The overskirt was darned in a showy pattern, such as is frequently seeu ujxin tidies, with linen thread. The back of the skirt was cov ered with three wide ruffles of the lace, Inirdered with a darned pattern, and the lowest mfile extended all around the bottom of the dress. The waist was thickly covered with stripes in the darning stitch representing inserting, and the sleeves were decorated in the same way. The umlerdress in this ease was of white Surah satin, sleeeveless and low square ntH'k, but any old white or pale evening silk drees could lie worn iu its place; even a very indiffer ent silk could lie used without its de- fects being perceptible through the rutlling and figuring of the lace. Darn ed tidies are so easy to make, and have lieen for a long time such a iHpular style of fancy work, that most vouug ladies have had some experience in that line, and if a handsome evening dress happens to lie the desire of any young lady's heart, she will not shrink from the labor involved in getting up a dress like the one described. The cost will be next to nothing, if the edge of the overskirt is finished by deep scallops run with several rows of linen, and a deep hem turned on the bottom of the nifties just below the darned border. Countless yards of ruffled lace added to the dressiness of the costume just de scribed, but to many tastes the sim plicity of the finish just suggested would give the dress a charm besides making it much easier to wash if it ever needed to pass through that process, which is doubtful, as laee does not catch dirt as easily as other fabrics. French writers predict a reentrnnee into fashion of striped materials. They were considered out of date last season, and merchants reduced the prices of those on hand so much that some great bargains are still to be scoured. Shop pers with slender purses would do well to avail themselves of some of these op portunities, as some very durable and excellent goods are being sold at the bargain counters, to leave room for new fall stock. It is the habit of many ex perienced housekeepers to make most of their purchases between seasons. The opportunity for choice is small, but compensation for that lies in the prices, which are far below those of new goods. Black silks have been out of favor for the last few years, in consequence of the popularity ot satins and brocades, but there is no danger of their staying out of style any great length of time, and now is the time to purchase them, for botli the French and those of Ameri can manufacture are being sold very cheaply. A black silk dress is always handsome and desirable, and for people who rarely buy a rich dress, and must of necessity make that dress last forev er, there is nothing to equal a black silk, for it goes triumphantly through the changes of fashion as no other gar ment can. Even if more sliowy styles prevail, the wearer of a well made black silk dress can be certain, under all cir- cumstances, of being ladylike in ap pearance. This is a time when dressmaking is at rather a standstill in most families, and people are generally at leisure to do other things. In houses where ready made underclothes are not the rule, the time can be well applied to replenishing the stock. Better cloth is usually put into the homemade garments, and where nightgowns and chemises have given away at the yokes and sleeves, the lower portions will be worth making I up into children's under-garments.— Dressing sacks or sacks to wear in sick ness can also be made from the skirts of worn-out night-dresses, and there are various uses which can be made of half worn underclothes in families where a sewing machine is used. Of course it would not pay to spend time in sewing by hand uj>on any but new muslin. Another economy that may be new to some people, is making pillow cases from the corners of worn out sheets. There will be more seams than is quite orthodox in such pillow covers, because the centre piece on each end is gener ally too thin to be available, and cutting it out, necessitates a join of the pieces. Where old linen pillow cases are good at the corners, small square napkins for washstands, bureaus and toilet tables, can be mode by raveling out a deep fringe. It will be beautifully soft and silky on coarse, old linen, and working an open button-hole stitch all around, in colored crewel, to keeping it from further raveling. If the linen ifj worth it, a letter, or little figure, can be put in the centre in outline stitch, with crewel or iudelible silk. Useful table napkins for everv day can be made from the corners and sides of worn out table, cloths, and it would l>e well not to con sign the worn out cfiitres to the rag bag, but keep them in the bag or lx>x, which in every family should be appro priated to old liueu and cotton, to be ready for any emergency. Bandages and strings of the right sort, physicians say, are seldom at hand in private houses when accidents demand their use, but they should le ready, even if there seems but little ]toasihility of their being used. "No—Uood Dny." Half an Lour before the f aciric express left for the West yesterday morning a big giant of a chap, lugging a satchel in one liand and leading a big dog with the other, entered the depot, folio we* 1 by a clean-faced, tidy-looking man with a grab-bag and an umbrella. Both reached the ticket office at the same time, aud while the giaut inquired the price of a ticket to some point in Kansas the other laid down the cash for a trip to Jackson. "Thunder and blares and wild cats!" shouted the giant as he learned the price of a ticket—"why, I hain't got no such money ?" "Can't help it—regular rate," said the ticket seller. "And extra for the dog?" "Yes." "I'll l>e hanged if I pay it!" "Very well," and down went the win dow. "Say, mister !" called the giant as he beckon**l to the man ticketed for Jackson —"say, see here." "What can I do for you?" askei the other as he came up. "Say, I want to go to Kansas." "Yes." "And 1 haven't got quite 'uuflf money. I'm bouud to go, fur I've left home and sot out, and I must raise some more money. Say, do you ever carry a re volver?" "Never." "Well, you orter," he said as he pulled out aii old navy and worked the cylinder around. "Times is mighty scrumpshus jist now, and every man orter protect his life. I'll give you this old barker for seven dollars. I'll warrant it to shoot blazes out of a boss thief twenty - six rods away." "My friend, lam a minister"of the Gospel, and I never have use for such weapons." "Preacher, eh ? Say, I'll knock off a •lobar on the price. Say six and take it." "It would be useless to me." "Useless? Say, suppose you are goiug home from prayer-meeting and some rough tackles you ? Click ! click ! biff-bang! aud where is your rough ? You may get into a dispute over at the church with one of the deacons. He thinks he has the dead wood on you as he peels his coat, but you keerlessly draw this out and wipe your nose on tho barrel, and whar's your deacon ?" "Oh, but I do not want it at any price. I should never sleep easy if it was in the house, even." "Then take this 'ere," said the mau, as he drew out a buck-handled knife with a blade a foot long. "She don't burn any powder nor make any noise, but she's chuck-full of business." "My friend, a preacher does not want such weaj>ons as that." "They don't eh? S'posen you were over to the hoss-race and a crook smashed your plug hat down your shoulders? S'posen some feller comes along and spits on yer boots ? Say, I'll part with this 'ere home-defender for $5, though she cost me 'leven and I never stabbed but one man with 'er." "I couldn't—couldn't think of it. As I told you before I am a clergyman and have no use for weapons." "Say, take the dog! A pieaclier can't lie tlirode over the bar for keeping a dog, and if you're looking fur sunthiu' alxmt four times as wicked as ab'ar-trap here's the anamile. Say " "I do not want a dog. "Don't? Great hooks ! but do you let tramps git outer your yard with two hull legs? Do you drive hogs outer your garden with switches ? Say, I'll part with old Typhoon for $lB, and I'll swear on four Bibles that I've been offered $25 more'n a dozen times." "No—no. I should not know what to do with him. I hope you'll get to Kan sas, but—" "I'll say sls, though it's a burniu' shame." "No." "I'll say sl2, if you'll agree to keep still about it." "No; that's my train and I must be going. I hope—." "Say, I'll sell ye a recipe to tame a b'ar. I've tried it, and if it don't tame him higher'n a kite in a week I'll chaw sand." * I N o —no —good day," NO. 40.