VOL. TV.
HARTER,
AUCTIONEER,
REBERSBURG, PA.
J C. SPRINGER,
Fashionable Barber.
Next Door to JOURNAL Store,
MII.LHKIH, PA.
JgROCKERHOFF HOUSE,
(Opposite Court House.)
H. BROCKEB HOFF, Proprietor.
WM. MCKKRVKR, Manager.
Good sample rooms ou first floor.
Free bus to and from all tralus.
Special rates to jurors and witnesses.
Strictly First Class.
IRVIN HOUSE,
(Most Central Hotel In the CltyJ
Comer MAIN and JAY Streets,
Lock Haven, Pa.
8. WOODS CALWKLL, Proprietor.
Good Sample Rooms for Commercial
Travelers on first floor.
D. H. MINGLE.
Phyaician and Surgeon,
MAIN Street, MILLHEIM, Pa.
JOHN F. HARTER,
PRACTICAL DENTIST,
Office in 2d story of Tomliuson'f Gro
cery Store,
On MAIN Street, MILLHEIM, Pa.
BF MISTER,
• FASHIONABLE BOOT A SHOE MAKER,
Shop next iloor to Foote's Store, Main SL,
Boots, Shoes and Gaiters made to order, and sat
iafactory work guaranteed. Repairing done prompt
ly and cheaply, and in a neat style.
L S. R. PKALS. H. A- MCKEE.
PEALE Ac MoK KE,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
Office opposite Court House, Bellefonte, Pa.
C. T. Alexander. C. M. Bower.
A BOWER,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW.
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Office in Q&rm&n'a new building.
JOHN B. LINN,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Office on Allegheny Street.
QLEMENT DALE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Northwest corner ot Diamond.
YOCUM A HASTINGS,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW.
BKLLBFONTK, PA.
High Street, opposite First National Bank
C. HEINLE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Practices In all the court* of Centre County,
•peo al attention to Collections. Consultations
In German or English.
F. REEDER,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BELLEFONTE, PA
All business promptly attended to. Colleetlon
of claims a speciality.
J. A. Beaver. J W. Gtphart.
jgEAVER A GEPHART,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
BELLEFONTE, PA
Office on Alleghany Street, North of High.
A. MORRISON,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BELLEFONTE, PA
omce on Woodrlng's Block Opposite court
House.
S. KELLER,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BELLEFONTE, PA
Consultations In English or German. Offioe
In Lyon's Building, Allegheny street.
JOHN G. LOVE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
0 BELLEFONTE, PA
Office In the rooms formerly occupied by the
late w. p. Wilson.
tie piltlctm §ittr§al
STEALING AND EARNING.
Never try to cheat your neigniKir;
Don't consent to be a tool;
Get your llviug by hard labor ;
Bear la mind the goldeu rule.
If you try to play a sharp gauie,
And, succeeding, gain you earu,
The titue will come when tricks the saiue
WIU be played on you In turu.
Mayhap you galu by knavery,
Aud by certain thievish schemes,
Faster than by toll and bravery
Adding daily to your means;
But you'll flud it's not so lasting—
You'll be cheated soou, yourself;
In your old age you'll te fasting.
While your friend lias lots of pelf.
You have gotten without law>r,
Never heeding the true worth
tf your riches, while your neighbor
Delved his from the stony earth,
Sweating freely for each penny
Gf the few he got each day
lie saved a few, while you spent many !
lie's the better off to-day.
A NICK LITTLE GAME.
Frank sat before tlie glowing grate,
his feet ou one corner of the mantel,
Ids chair tipped back. His young wife
looked at him, and her pretty black
eyes, which only a minute before had
been brimful of tears, emmited sparks of
tire. Her rosy mouth closed with a firm
expression, and her dainty foot came
down upon the rug in a very decided
manner.
"I won't stand it!" she said, under
her breath; "I can't—'twill kill me to
see him night after night besotted, de
graded, ruining both soul and laxly. 1
must do sometliing—l must save him,
for rny baby's sake!"
Then she sat down and meditated.
They had l>ecn married a little over two
years, and the babe in the wicker cradle
was a thriving boy. No happier woman
than Dolly the world held, but for one
thing. Her young husband would drink.
He loved his social glass, his wine sup
pers and club dinners. He did not neg
lect his wife, but often he came home in
the small hours in rather an unsteady
condition. Dolly tried everything—
tears, entreaties, persuasions—but he
only laughed her off.
"Where's the harm, Dolly ?" Can't
a fellow be merry now and then with
his friends?"
But Dolly saw the fatal evil growing
upon him day by day, and knew what
the end would be. She shuddered, and
her eyes filled with tears, but the
minute after they Hashed fire, and she
smiled.
"I'll try it," she said to herself; "if it
does no good, it can't do much harm.
Then she said, "Frank!"
Her husband roused up, and, own
ing his eyes with an iml>ecile stare, re
plied:
"All right, Dolly."
"Frank, you Iwlieve that a wife
should follow in her husbauds's foot
steps, don't you?"
"To be sure. You're a sensible
woman, Dolly."
"And you're a sensible man, Frank.
What's right for you to do is right for
me, isn't it?"
"Precisely! Just so, Dolly—exactly.
You're a wise woman, you are."
Dolly smilled quietly.
"Very well,, Frank; if you go to the
tavern any more nights, I'm going, too!"
Her husband looked up half sobered.
"Nonsense, Dolly! he said; "that is
running the thing into the ground. You
will do no such thing."
"You'll see that I will, Frank!" she
answered, resolutely. "I love you, and
what you do I shall do too! If you see
tit to ruin yourself, soul and l>ody, and
sliame your son, I shall follow your ex
ample. I care for nothing that you can
not share. As you do, so will I."
His cheek paled and his lip quivered.
He sat silent for a minute, then got up
and said:
"Nonsense, little girl! Come to bed,
Dolly."
She followed him obediently, and no
more was said on the subjeet. For tliree
or four nights Frank came home punc
tually, then his old habit mastered him.
Dolly had his supper all waiting, and
his slippers and dressing-gown before
the fire, but he did not come. She
waited patiently till 10 o'clock, then put
ting a wrap about her, she called the
housemaid.
"Sit by baby's crib, Mary, when Mr.
Mayfairs comes, tell him I have gone to
the Reindeer. Ask no questions, and take
good care of baby, and you shall have a
dollar extra this month."
well, ma'am," with wondering
looks.
Twelve o'clock—one! —and then the
young husband let himself in with his
night key, and came reeling into the
sitting room. There sat the maid beside
the sleeping child.
Frank looked about him a little anx
iously.
"Fast asleep! Fine little fellow!" he
said, bending over the crib. "Mary,
my girl, where's your unstress —gone to
bed?"
"No sir; she's gone to the Reindeer
hotel."
He stood and stared.
"What do you say, girl?"
"She went out at ten, sir, and bade
me tell you when you came that she had
gone to the Reindeer."
The young husband stifled something
like an oath, and sat down before the
health. Half an hour went by, then
he started up and glanoed at the clock.
"Great heavens! It is nearly two and
she's not here!"
i He seized his hat and rushed from the
MILLHEIM. PA., THURSDAY, OCTOBER 27, ISBI.
house like one mail. B.y the time he
wits half WAV to the Reindeer, he WAH
perfectly sober.
"Could she lmve meant what she said?"
he asked himself over ami over again.
Presently a carriage came down from
the lighted tavern on the hill, and, its it
passed him, a woman's voice rang out,
singing the eliorus
Wo won't go home till morulugt
It was his wife's voice, lie caught at
the horses' head, frantic with rage.
Dolly's pretty curly head looked out an
the vehicle stopped.
"Frank, old fellow—liie—is that yon?
(let in—hie—get iu! Why didn't you
oouie up?—liie, Oh we'd a jolly time—
hie—we did! Don't blame yon for going
out Frank. Didn't know it was so
pleasant—hie—l I mean to go every
night."
"You do?" he gasped, leaping into
the seat beside tier. Grasping her arm,
he muttered, "Ever dare to do such a
thing again, and you'll be 110 wife of
mine?"
Dolly laughed uproariously.
"Nonsense, Frank! Let me do as you
do; that's fair. Let go my arm! You
hurt me! Besides, you'll break my llask
of prime brandy! Frank, taste a drop."
He caught it from her hand and llung
it out of the window.
"Bah!" said Dolly, her cheeks dusheli,
her hair awry, "I wish I'd stayed at the
Reindeer— etc. What makes you so
cross, Frank?"
"Hush! Say no more, Dolly," he an
swered, his teeth set hard. "I can't
bear it. I—l may do something I'll be
sorry for. Keep silent—l don't want
any more crooked words."
"Rain's horns, if I die for it !', cried
Dolly.
Then she clapped her hands and
laughed gleefully, breaking off into
A moonlight night for a ramble!
Frank let his head fall into las hands.
"Good heavens!" he groaned; "I
would rather have died than have seen
this night."
He got her home and into her own
room at last, but she was very unman
ageable, and i>ersisted in cutting up all
manner of capers—dancing and singing
—her checks flushed and her hair
streaming, and asking if they would
not go again another night—it was such
fun.
His pretty, modest little Dolly! Long
after she had fallen into a sound sleep
her husband sat over the smouldering
fire with his face hidden in his hands.
"Dolly," he said, when she awoke late
on the following morning, "what hap
pened last night must never happen
again."
She looked up with her old clear eyes.
"Very well, Frank; that is for you to
say. Just as you do, so will I."
He was silent a moment.
"1 would rather die than see what 1
saw last night over again," he said.
"Frank," she said, her lips quivering,
"I ve seen the same sight once or twice
every week since the day I married you,
and God only knows what it has cost
mo."
He caught her close to his heaving
breast.
"Poor little wife!" ho almost sobbed,
"you shall never see such a sight again. ,
I shall sign the pledge to-day."
"Frank, "said his pretty wife one day,
as they watched their children playing
on the lawn, "I fooled you handsomely
that night; it was all make-believe. I
didn't go to the Reindeer that night, and
not a drop of the hateful stuff had
passed my lips. Didn't I fool you that *
night, and cure you in the bargain?" j
"You little witch!" he cried, but the
instant after his eyes tilled. "Yes,
Dolly," he said, drawing her close to
his side, "you cured me of a habit that
would have been my ruin. Heaven bless
you for it!"
In a Barber's Show.
Whether in town or country, the con
ventional conversation of hairdressers is
frequently not of a high order, and I
question whether the following anecdote,
of which a near relation of my own "was
the victim, is often equalled in original
ity. The hairdresser began with proba
bly a well accustomed opening. "A fine
head of hair, sir, for a gentleman of
your time of life sir." The gentleman,
who was not in the habit of talking much
u such occasions, signified that he <
heard the remark, but said nothing. The
hairdresser proceeded, "Very odd, sir,
but I never knew a clever man to have
much hair, sir." Another grunt, but
nothing more, whereupon the cruel cli*
max followed, "It's a very singular
thing, sir, but I never met with a bald
idiot in all the course of my practice."
Why a bald man, idiot or not, should go
to a hair-cutter did not appear, but this
by the way. Whether the scries of re
marks was meant as a punishment for the
non-appreciation of the compliment con
veyed in the first was never known. 1
was once myself completely deceived by
what I can imagine to be a very common
joke in the trade, but for which I was
not prepared at the moment. I asked
whether "the principal," who usually
"waited upon me," was disengaged. The
assistant replied in, as I thought, a very
serious tone, "He's upstairs, sir, he's
dyeingair." "Dear me,"l replied, "lam
very sorry to hear it, Has he been ill
long?" "He is dyeing a gentleman's
hair, sir ;he will be at liberty in a few
minutes," was the reassuring answer.
Though I was of course glad that my
worst fears had not been realised, I was
still conscious of having been unwarily
sjiapathetitf
(In thtilr Wedding Tour.
" To watch the newly-married eouplea
who travel is one of the compensations
of our arduous life," said au old hotel
clerk the other day.
" How cau you tell whether they are
newly-married or not?" inquired a re
porter to whom this remark was ad
dressed.
"Toll them?" ejaculated the clerk ;
"1 can pick them out as easily as if they
carried signs, 'We are just married."'
" Yes; but how ?"
"Well, in the tirst place, they are
always most abundant in the fall and
wiuter. I don't know why it is, but
such is the fact. One of the signs of a
new K -married couple is their spick and
s| *un new clothes. Somehow, wlieu peo
ple get married, they generally get as
many new clothes as jHissible. The
bride and groom have new hats, and new
trunks and new dusters. Then, again,
they spend money more freely. When
a man is in his honeymoon, he gener
ally feels as if he ought, to l>e generous.
He has a grateful sort of spirit, and
throws his money around as if he
wanted to show that the world has used
him w ell. He has put by his money for
the occasion, and is uot afraid to spend
it. He is specially anxious that the
bride shall eat and drink of the best.
He must have a room vith a private par
lor, and not up "♦airs *ry far, and with
a good view. Sometimes he is a little
chary of tusking for these things, but
when we suggest them he always says
'Yes.' Of course it is part of our busi
ness to suggest tliem. We consider
that we have the same' right to pluck a
newly-married couple as an undertaker
has to pluck bereaved relatives."
"Do they behave differently from
other people?"
"I should—well, yes. The husband
does not run off to the bar-room, or the
billiard-room, as the old married men
do. When the old married couple ar
rive, you may lx certain that the tirst
thing the husband d<ies is to take a
drink, or lounge alu>ut the billiard
tables, telling his wife that he litis some
business to attend to.**
" Are'newly-married people bashful ?"
"That depends* Tie wncowers and
widows don't mind it but the young
people are a littlq coy. At Niagara
Fulls we hail most of the new couples
late iu the season, when the regular
boarders had left. I have seen as many
as a dozen at a time tile into the dining
room, trying to look as if they had not
been married yesterday, but casting
furtive glances about to see if they **cre
sus|xct<*d. The men were especially
watched, lest somebody should be og
ling the brides. One day I thought we
should have a fight in the dining-room.
A strapping big fellow from the west,
in a new suit of store clothes, sat down
to the table with his bride, a buxom,
brown eyed beauty. She looked so
fresh and rosy that she could not but
attract attention, and she got it. Every
gentleman in the room tixik more than
one look at her, and she knew it. Of
course sue did not object. But the man
began to get angry. Ho did not like to
speak to the bride alxmt it. because she
was evidently not displeased. Finally
he got up and walked to the nearest
gentleman whom he hail observed, and
said:
" 'L(x>k here, stranger, I'd like to
know what you are staring at my wife
for?'
"'Your wife! Allow me to congratu
late you, my dear fellow. You have got
the finest wife in the city,' said the
gentleman addressed. 'The fact is, I
thought she was your sister. Excuse me
if I was rude; but if you don't want peo
ple to look at your wife, you really must
never take her out in public. No of
fense meant, sir.'
"The bridegroom went back to liis
place, but he took good care at the next
meal to put his wife with her face to the
wall."
"Which do you think take to the new
conditions most gracefully?"
"Women, by all odds. The men are
always betraying themselves. They
want to talk about it; they are full of the
subject. Women are more art fill, and
have more adaptability to new circum
stances. But, with all their arts, they
can't deceive the old hotel clerk, and it
is very seldom that we don't turn in a
few dollars extra to the house on ac
count of our knowledge."
"Another peculiarity of the newly
married couples who go to hotels," con
tinued the clerk, "is that many of them
live in the city. They always come
equipped for a long journey. They
have left the wedding guests with the
announced intention of taking a long
journey, conspicuously displaying, per
haps, their railroad tickets, and have
been driven byway of the depot to a
first-class hotel previously selected. I
knew owe case where a bridal couple, to
avoid detection, actually boarded a train
and started apparently on a journey,
but took at the next station a train back
to the city, and stopped at a hotel a few
blocks from home. Then the wedding
guests were permitted to stay at the
feast as long as they pleased, without
disturbing anybody."
Belief is not in our power, but truth
fulness is.
A grain of produce is worth a pound
of craft.
Better break thy word than do worse
I in keeping it.^
Curia Crime.
Aj-'sassinations were uever as numerous
as they now ure, and, an tor attempts
to rob with \lolence, tliey are perpetrated
even in omnibuses. Immorality has be
come singularly gross. The Palais Koyal
has become almost the great Kiailo of vice
it waa before 1690. Girls of 11 and IS
yeara are there in numbers plying an in
famous trade to enrich monsters who drive
theui on the atreet. The insolence of the
lower classes is intolerable, especially to
priests and nuns. All this, la going to
bring* on a reaction, which will confide
power to a sword. The general elections
will produce a great excitement, A shop
keeper said to me a day or two ago : "As
soon as the cany ana begins 1 will sell no
thing but drink; no work will lie done; no
money will IK* made." Ice-dealers, how
ever, cannot complain that the season has
been stagnant for them, the aide of ice this
month having exceeded in Paris alone
45,000 tons; Cafe Anglaiae, Cafe Kiche,
Cafe Fay, Maisou JDoree, Vachette bought
each a ton of ice daily, and there waa
scarcely a cafe or restaurant which did not
buy three hundred to -400 pounds of ice
every* day. More ice would probably have
been sold had not the revelations of the
police's chemists checked the sale of beer.
The chemists declared that every sample
of beer analyzed by them was uuwhole
some from adulterations of all sorts, so
few people were bold enough to pour
such poison down their throats. The drouth
has made itself felt in other ways thauthe
sale of ice. Our vegetables nave been
scarce and of poor quality, and so small
that they seemed dwarfs; they have been,
and are, very dear.
The other night two 3 tng clerks were
playing billiards in a cafe Of Boulevard St.
Germain, and talked freely of their con
cerns without heeding a man who seemed
to lie asleep at an adjoining table. One of
them suid : "I have just inherited #400."
"Oh, then, we are going to have a jolly
time of it." "No, nol 1 will touch
one cent of that money. It is still in niv
lodgings, safely hidden in a chest of draw
ers under my shirts. To-morrow lam
going to carry it to a stock broker and buy
threes." A few minutes afterward the
sleeping man woke, rose, took his hat and
went out. Au hour afterwards the clerks
paid for what they had lakeu, took their
hats—one of them, Le who had inherited
s4<>o, lound that his hat had been taken,
probably by the sleeper, and another left
in its piace. As the hal left was just as
good as the hat taken, and as the former
titted quite as well, he bore the exchange
philosophically and jogged borne. He had
no sooner entered his lodgings than he saw
they had been entered with false keys, bis
chest of drawers broken open and his S4OO
stolen. He did not sleep that night. The
hat left him did nol altogether suit him,
so he went to his hatter to change it. His
hatter told him that the evening before a
man had come into the shop and had said
thai he had called, thinking the hatter
might be able to give him the owner's
name and address that he might restore the
hat accidentally taken. The hatter gave
the name and address. The burglar secur
ed S4OO by the information given. The
burglar's hat was left with the hatter, and
a new hat selected. After the clerk left
the hatter took out the lining of the burg
lar's hat and to bis surprise found uuder it
a letter, bearing an address. He read it,
and found it was from a burglar, promis
ing aid in a couten burglary which
hail been planned by the person to whom
the letter was addressed. The hatter took
the letter to the police and told what had
occurred. Before sunset both burglars
were arrested.
A few days since the cashier of a Stras
burg bank was surprised to find, on open
ing a registered letter from Schlesladt,
which he was ad vised contained SIOOO, that
it held only waste pa;x'r. He at once sum
moned the police, who, on examining the
waste paper, found it came from a Paris
uewspaper. Continuing their investigation
ihey found that the person who had sent
t lie registered letter was a subscriber to the
Paris uewspaper. A uewspaper of the
same date as that from which the cuttings
hail been taken was procured, it was fouud
that the collection of the subscriber (who
tiled the paper), lacked the newspaper of
that dale. Evidently the thief was in the
sender's house. All persons in it were
watched and inquiries as to their character
made. It was lound that an apprentice
hud asked his master the day after the
tueft had been committed, leave of absence,
to assist his parents, who lived in a village
some distance off, and that he had not
gone there but bad takeu a different direc
tion. The telegraph was used to order his
arrest just as he was crossing the frontier ;
the SIOOO was fouud on him and he con
fessed his crime.
Countees Branicka and Countess Casark
took a few evenings siuco a coach of the
Northern railway for their exclusive use.
When they reached Charleroi they fouud
lhat their two satchels had disappeared.
When I where? how? They could not
answer. All they could say was that their
satchels contained a seven row pearl neck
lace, six gold bracelets set with rubies,
sapphires and emeralds, srt, 000 in gold anil
bank notes, a prayer book and two pass
ports, the whole worth. between SBO,OOO
and $120,000. The police are all out try
ing to discover the thieves who made off
with such rich booty.
Brace (Tp.
"Brace up!" We like that slang phrase.
We like it because there is lots of soul in
it. You never knew a mean, stingy, suiv
el sou led man to walk up to an afflicted
neighbor, slap him on the shoulder, and tell
him to "brace up." It is the big-heearted
open-handed, whole-souled fellow that
comes along when you are cast down, and
*q'Hires off in front of you, and tells you,
"That won't do old fellow—brace up!"
it is be that tells you a good story and
makes you laugh iu spite of yourself; that
lifts the curtain that darkens your soul,
and tells you to look out end see the light.
It is he that reminds you that there never
was a brilliant sunset without clouds. He
may uot tell you so in just such words,
but he will make you " brace up" and see
the silver lining for yourself.
He who thinks his place below him
will be below his place.
Better a soft heart and an iron hand
than an iron heart and a soft hand.
If you are slandered never mind it;
it will all come off' when it is dry.
Happy are they who work. Then, the
task finished, each one sleeps the same
sleep. *"
He who refuses justice to the defence
less will make every concession to the
powerful,
Ivan the Kerf.
Among the out-door servants was a
certain Ivan, the coachman or coachboy,
as he was called, in consequence of bis
littlw stature, which was out of all propor
tion with his years. He was the veriest
mite of man, extremely nimble in bis
movements, with a pug nose, curly hair,
a face perpetually on the grin, and eyes
like a mouse. He was a rare buffoon and
lover of practical jokes ; and his tricks
and drolleries were infinite. He under
stood how to let off tire works, could fly
kites, and was a good hand at any game;
could ride standing at a full gallop,could
leap higher than anyone else at the
"giant's stride," and was quite a
master at making the queerest of shad
ows on the wall. No one could
amuse children better than he,and Ivan
was perfectly happy if he was only al
lowed to .spend an entire day playing
with them. When he laughed, the
whole house shook, and he was always
ready with a joke and an answer. There
was no being angry with him, and you
were obliged to laugh even whilst scold
ing him. It was a treat to see Ivan dance
—particularly the "fish-dance." The
niUHic would strike up, and then the fel
low darted out into the middle of the
group and began turning, twisting, leap
ing, stamping with his feet, crawling on
the th>or, and going through all the
antics of aftsh that had been caught and
thrown on the dry ground ; and perform
ing such contortions, clasping his neck
with his heels, jumping here, springing
there, that the ground seemed to tremble
uuder him. Many a time Alexis Sergei
vitch, though,as I have already said, very
fond of the choral dances, has interrupted
the dancers, and cried out; "Come here
Ivan, my little coach-boy ; give us the
fish-dance, and look sharp !" And then
a minute latter yon heard him exclaim
ing : "Ah, that's it ; well done, well
done !"
It was, then, during my lsist visit that
this same Ivan came one morning into
my room, and without saying a word fell
down on his knees before me. "Ivan,
what's the matter?" "Save me, sir!"
"How ? What has happened ?" And
thereujHui Ivan related to me all his
troubles.
About twenty yearsl>eforeliehadl>eeu
exchanged from the service of a certain
Suehinski on the estate of the Teleguins;
but simply exchanged, without going
through any legal formality or being
supplied with the necessary p:q>ers. The
man in whose place he had been taken
died, uud liis old masters had quite for
gotten Ivau, so that he remaiued with
Alexis Sorgeiviteli, as if lie had been
lorn a serf in the family. In the course
of time bis former wasters died also, and
the estate passed into fresli bauds ; and
the new proprietor, who was generally
reported to be cruel and brutal, inform
ed the authorities that one of his serfs
had been taken into the serviee of Alexis
Sergeivitch without any legal sanction,
demanded his immediate surrender, and
in case of refusal threatened his detainer
with a heavy fine and imprisonment.
Nor was the threat by any means an idle
one, since Suehinski was a very high
placed official, a privy counsellor by
rank, with great influence throughout
the district. Ivan in his fright apjiealed
to Alexis Sergeivitch. The old man took
pity 011 his favorite dancer, and made
an offer to the the privy counsellor to
buy Ivan of him for a good round sum,
but the proposal was contemptuously re
jected and what made matters worse, he
was a Little Russian—as pigheaded as
the very devil. There was nothing to
be done but to give up the poor serf. "I
have lived here, made my home here,
served here, eaten my daily bread here,
and it is here I wish to die," Ivan cried
to me ; "Am I a dog, to be dragged by
a chain from one kennel to another ?
Save me, I implore you; entreat your
uncle never to give me up ; do not for
get how often I have amused you. And
if Ido go, the worst for us all ; it can
only end in crime !" "In crime ! what
do you mean, Ivan ?" Why I shall kill
him. I will go, and the first day I will
say to him. let me return to my old
master, sir ; do not refuse me, or, if you
do. take care ; I will murder you !"
If a chaffinch or a gold finch had sud
denly spoken, and threatened .to swal
low a large bird, I should not have been
more astonished than I was to hear Ivan
speak thus. Ivan the dancer, buffoon,
and jester, the beloved of children, him
self a child, this good-souled creature,
to become a murderer ! The idea was
riciiculous. Not for a moment did I be
lieve him ; but what I could not under
stand was that he should even talk of
such a thing. I had, however, a long
conversation with Alexis Sergeivitch,
and employed every form of entreaty that
he would somehow or other arrange the
affair. "My dear sir," the old man re
plied, "I should indeed be glad to do so,
but it is impossible. I have already offer
ed the pig-headed fellow a good price,
300 roubles on my word of honor, and
he would not hear of it; so, what can I
do ? Of course it is illegal, and the ex
change was made in the old fashioned
way, as between men of honor, and now
it promises to end badly. You will see,
the man will take Ivan from me by force
—he is very powerful, the Governor-
General often dines at his house —and
he will send soldiers to arrest him. And
I have a mortal fear of -soldiers ! The
time was, I would never given up Ivan,
let him storm us loudly as he chose ; but
now, only look at me w hat a poor cripple
I am. How can I fight against a man
like that?" And in truth Alexis Hergei
vitch had of late aged greatly ; his eyes
now wore a childish expression, and in
place of the intelligent smile that once
lit up his features, there played around
his lips that mild unconscious simper
which I have remarked that very old
people will preserve even in their sleep.
I communicated the result of our in
terview to Ivan, who had heard me in
silence with his head bent. "Well," he
at last exclaimed, "it is given to no one
to escape his fate. But I shall keep my
word ; there is only one thing to do ; and
I will give him a surprise. If you don't
mind sir, give me a little money to buy
some vodki " I gave him some, and that
day Ivan drank heavily; but in the eve
ning he favored us with the "fish-dance,"
and danced so that the girls and women
were in ecstacies. Never before had I
seen him in such force.
The next day I returned home ; and
three months latter, when I was in St.
Petersburg, I learned that Ivan had
kept his vow. He was sent off to his
new master, who at once called him into
his study and informed him that he was
to act as coachman, that three of his bay
horses would be given into his charge, 4
and that it would be the for him
if he did not look well after them, or in
any way neglect his duties. "I am not
a man to be joked with, "added he. Ivan
listened to all his master had to say,and
then throwing himself at his feet de
clared that, whatever his honor might
wish, he never could be bis serf. "Let
me go back, I beseech your honor; or, if
you like, send me to be a soldier ; or be
fore long evil will come upon you !"
His master flew into a furious passion,
"Oil, you are one of that 3ort, are you ?
How tlare you talk to me in that way ?
First, please to know that I am not your
honor, but your excellency ; and next,
do not forget that you are long past the
age for a soldier, even if they would take
such a dwarf; and lastly, pray, what is
it you threaten me with ? Do you mean
to burn my house down ?" "No, your
excellency, I shall never set fire to your
house." "What then, are you going to
murder me ?" Ivan made no reply. "I
will never be your serf," he muttered at
last. "I will just show you whether
you are my serf or not," roared
his master. And Ivan was severely
punished ; but for all that, the three bay
horaes were put under his care, and he
received the place of coachman.
Ivan appeared to submit to his fate,
and as he soon proved that he under
stood his business, he quickly won the
favor of his master, the more so because
in general he was quiet and civil in his
liehavior, while the horses entrusted to
linn were so well cared for that every
body declared it was a treat to look at
them. Hrf master evideut[y preferred
driving out with Ivan to going with any
of the other coachmen. Sometimes he
would laugh, and say : "Well, Ivan, do
you recollect how badly we got on at our
first meeting? but I fancy we have
driven out the devil after all." To these
words Ivan never made any answer. But
one day, just about Epiphauy time, his
master drove to town with Ivan as coach -
man, the bells jingling merrily from the
necks of the three horses. They were
just beginning to mount a rather steep
hill at a foot pace, when Ivan slid off the
box and went behind the sledge, ae if to
pick up something he had let fall. It
was a sharp frost, and his master sat
huddled up in a thick fur, with a warm
cap drawn close over his ears. Then
Ivan took from under his long coat a
hatchet which he carried in his belt,
came close up behind his master, knock
ed oft' his cap, and with the words, "I
warned you once, Peter Petrovitch, so
you have only yourself to thank," atone
blow cut his head open. He then stop
ped the horses, replaced the cap care
fully ou the head of the dead man, and
taking his place again on the box drove
into town straight up to the police sta
tion.
"I have brought you General Suckin
sky's dead body, it is I myself who kill
ed' him. I told him I would, and I have
done it. So, take me."
He was arrested, brought to trial, and
sentenced to the knout, and then sent
for life to the mines in Siberia. And
thus Ivan, the gay-hearted dancer, dis
appeared forever from the world of
sight.
HOUSE LINEN: — Once a year the house
linen should be carefully looked over and
arranged. Buch sheets and pillow-cases
as have seen the largest share of their
days of usefulness and yet are still unbro
ken, should be laid carefully aside, that
tbey may come into service when an un
usual number of bed changes are required.
Supply their places with new ones, and
thus keep an abuudence of fresh bee ding
for emergencies. The kitchen table cloths
if they threaten to break, should be cut
up, hemmed, and devoted to the dish-wash
lug department, and new oues of unbleach
ed linen damask made to take their places.
Glass wiping cloths should not be of elder
ly linen, because of its tell-tale fibres, and
because there is a linen provided for glass
sufficiently inexpensive for the purpose of
even the most economical housewife.
Hand towels should be lookod over and
replenished. Those for the kitchen should
be devidid and doomed to the floor-cloth
hooks, and others always with a tape
loop at each end of them where a roller is
not in use, shouln take the place of the
old towels. There can hardly be too
many towels in the kitchen. The dining
room table cloths may be cut into large
towels and neatly tOKuned.
NO. 43