VOL. LV. HARTER, AUCTIONEER, REBERSBURG. PA. J C. SPRINGER, Fashionable Barber, Next Door to JOURNAL Store, MILLHKIH, PA. JGROCKERHOFF HOUSE, (Opposite Court House.) H. BROCK-ERHOFF, Proprietor. WM. MCKKKVKK, Manager. Good sample rooms on first floor. Free bus to and from all trains. Special rates to jurors and witnesses. Strictly First Class. IRVIX HOUSE, (Most CENTRAL Hotel In tbe Cttyj Corner MAIN and JAY Streets, Lock Ilaven, Pa. S. WOODS GAL WELL, Proprietor. Good Sample Rooms for Commercial Travelers on first floor. D. H. MINGLE, Pliysieian and Surgeon, MAIN Street, MILLHKIM, Pa. JOHN F. IIARTER, PRACTICAL DENTIST, Office in 2d story of Tomliuson's Gro cery Store, On MAIN Street, MILLHKIM, Pa. BP KIKTKR • FASHIONABLE BOOT A SHOE MAKER Shop next door to Foote'a Store, Main St., Boota, Shoes and Gaiters made to order, and (sat isfactory work guaranteed. Repairing done prompt ly and cheaply, and in a neat style. S. R. PKALE. H. A. MOKKE. PEALE & McK EE, ATTORNEYS AT LAW, Otttce opposite Court House, Bellefonte, Pa. C. T. Alexander C. M. Bower. ATTORNEYS AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA. Office in Gannan's new building. JOHN B. LINN, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA. Office on Allegheny Street. QLEMENT DALE, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA. Northwest corner of Diamond. __ H HASTIM.N, ~ ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA. Office on Allegheny Street, 2 doors west of office formerly occupied bv the late firm of Yocnm A Hastings. C. HEINLE, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BELLEFONTE, PA. Practices in all the courts of Centre County. Spec al attention to Collections. Consultations In German or English. F. REEDER, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BELLEFONTE, PA. All bus'ness promptly attended to. Collection of claims a speciality. J. A. Beaver. J W. Gephart. JJEAVER & GEPHART, ATTORNEYS AT LAW, BELLEFONTE, PA. Office on Alleghany Street, North of High. A. MORRISON, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA Office on Woodrlng's 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, D BELLEFONTE, PA Office In the rooms formerly occupied by the lew W. r. Wileon. lie pJltlleiii §iiL IF 1 SHOULD 9EB THE KINO OO BY. If I should see the King g With all his retinue, lu brolderod rols of red aud gold. And gems of many a hue; Then would I sigh ? Not 1, uot I No crowned head at peace may lie. If 1 should see the King go by. And should he say to me; " O friend, 'twere meet that you ami 1 Should alter fate's decree, t'otne, don my roties.'" Not I, uot 1 The King's rots' is the target's eye. tt I should see the King go by Along the King's highway, Methuika that 1 would rise and cry ; "O King, rejoice to-day J" For who'll deuy— Not I, not I That Kiugs hare many ways to tile - .' TEKO'S LOVE. Isabel had managed to get through with the ceremony very creditably in deed. She had succeeded in looking queenly and elegant, and Mr. Van Verst had shown all his pride in his handsome eyes when he looked at her. She had not trembled nor appeared in the least nervous, but, as her first brides maid said, behaved as though she were in the habit of getting married every day. After the ceremony, she had gone through tlit* tedious reception, and stood, yet serious—grave, yet pleasant—while her dear five hundred friends kissed her, and took her hand, and congratulated her—her feminine friends, who, in their secret souls, were envious of her good luck in having "secured" the handsome, stately man beside her, who filled his position and did the honors as a prince of the blood royal might have done— whose name was a power in social, financial and political circles, and who had condescended from his high estate tt> woo lovely Isabel Lisle. And now they were "married and a'." Ceremony, reception and breakfast were over, and well over, and Mrs. Van Verst had retired to her dressing-room to change her toilet of white satin and lace, pearls and diamonds, and white roses, for the charming traveling costume of ecru silk and Persian embroidered garnet cashmere. Just a little to the surprise of the vivacious girls who were supposed to be indispensable on the momentous occa sion, Isabel told them she really very much prefered attending upon herself; and, as Isabel usually had her own way, Mabel aud Maude left her, with a loving, saucy little protest. And she laughed, and turned them out and then— Regardless of the magnificence of lier trailing bridal robes, unmerciful of the rare and costly white roses she crushed so ruthlessly, this bride of an hour, when she had locked her door and dashed down the curtains, flung herself on her knees beside the lounge, in a perfect ecstasy of grief —knelt there, shivering and praying. She ceuld not cry; it seemed as if all her tears had "forever left her eyes to curdle around her heart." She did not even make the slightest sound, but, oh! the awful, unspeakable, pent-up agony she suffered, until she wondered she did not die then and there—until she pray ed God to let her die as she was, or else remove the burden. And the why and wherefore was, that since the night and hour eigteen months before, when she and Theo. Edmerton had parted in proud, indignant coldness —they two who had worshiped each other as even fond lovers not often worship—lsabel Lisle had never spent one happy moment. Not once had she heard of him or from him. He had disappeared as thoroughly from society as though he were dead, and so how could she have known that in his pique, and stub* ornness, and unyielding pride, he had put the ocean, foreign countries, deserts, between them! All she knew was, he made no sign; all he realized was, he had gone so far in his displeasure as to give her 110 oppor tunity in her penitent relenting, to be reconciled. And now, this fair, bright day she was Horace Van Verst's wife Some one rapped softly on the door, bringing Isabel to her senses. Had it been a minute or an hour since she knelt there, shivering, writhing with longing pain and utter abandonment of despair. Maud St. Willis's cheerful voice call ed out: "A belated wedding present, Bell—a check for SI,OOO, or a Government bond I dare say, seeing it is contained in an envelope. Can't I come in?" "Not quite yet, dear. I'll take the parcel, please." She unlocked the door and received it; then with the first sob of pain that had passed her lips yet, she sank faint and weak upon the nearest chair, as she recognized Theo. Edmerton's hand writing. She clid not at once open it; she could, not, for the cold trembling of her hands. She sat there, her heart seeming to stop its beating, until a girl dish voice, as somebody passed the doer, speaking about the time of trains, roused her again into a sort of desperate de fiance to herself. And then she tore open the envelope and read this: "Without any doubt you will be sur prised to receive my most elaborate con gratulations on the auspicious eveut that has given to your husband the MILLHKIM. IA., THURSDAY. NOVEMBER 17,1881. sincere, undivided lore your heart, aud bestow upon youself the title that means, in your ease, that your affections are so surely, so sincerely placed upon a gen tlemau so worthy—" The vein of icy-fond sarcasm sud denly ceased—oven the correct, elegant handwriting changed into a hurried lnilf illegihle scrawl: "Isabel, what have you done? My Clod! tr/mt have you done? Could you not have waited a little while? You have ruined my hope, my happiness, my faith and trust in woman. You have killed me—killed me! May God forgive you, and, if ever I prayed, I pray now that 1 may forget I ever loved—yes, that I love more madly than ever." Such a letter—such despair, and such hopeless bitterness, such anguish of niis sery, such pain of auger—and Mrs. Van Verst crushed it in her hand, till the paj>er was a mass of broken fragments. "I trill forget him—l will not go to my husband with such thoughts in my heart! My God, 1 w ill be true— T must be true! Ob. makt me—tnn/.> me true to him, and don't let me swerve! Heaven help me!" And with hands clasped and lovely eyes uplifted, she stood one moment, until a loving Father laid His blessing of endurance and patience, and earnest resolution and consciousness of His own strength and presence, upon her heart, that was siek unto despair. Half au hour later she looked up into her husband's face, as they sat alone in the coach that was conveying them t<> the depot—such a good, grand face that accompanied the cluiraeter, no woman could come in contact with and fail to thoroughly revere and admire. And a sudden little thrill of humble content warmed in her eyes und quivered into a peaceful smile, as as she laid her hand on his. "I mean to be such a good wife, Horace,"she said, gently. "My darling, I know it;" lie answered her. "And lam most blessed of any man 011 God's earth to-day." So their wedded life began. Two years afterwards, and half a city in mourning, because of the pitiless scourge that the hot midsummer days hod swept relentlessly down upon it. And in a nearly deserted hotel, where fashion, and beauty and wealth had fled before the grim oncoming of the pesti lence, two people lying dead —young, handsome even in death, with refine ment and nobility 011 their marble faces. And the death-roll, that morning, telegraphed to happier Northern cities, contained these names: "Mr. Horace Van Verst, and his wife, Mrs. Isabel Lisle Van Verst;" while in an adjoining room, rosy, healthy, joyous and un conscious of her awful loss, their baby girl, a year old, watched over by one careful nurse, while another, gray-hair ed and tearful, was hurriedly making preparations to leave tlie accursed fever striken citv. Tlieo. Edmerton had taken up his po sition at tho foot of the grand stair case, and was rather enjoying looking on at the gay crowd that was fast filling Mrs. Wvllard's parlors, aud especially I me to know that had happened to him he had thought never could happen to him again, after the desolate, waste time in his life, when Isabel Lisle had mar ried another. He had thought never to renew his faith and trust in woman. He had 110 hope nor wish that the week that he had believed himself in love and passion should ever be made anew. And then, right into all the debris of his affections Vivian Gwyneth had come with sympa thy and healing. Until, standing and watching her to night, the fairest, brightest star in Mrs. Wyllard's brilliant assemblage, Tlieo Edmerton knew he loved her. Until he was wondering what the rem nant ot his heretofore unblessed lift would be worth to him if, when he asked lovely Vivian for her love, she should withold it. For he had made up his mind slowly, during the past few weeks, that he was warranted in asking her. He was almost sure she cared for him, and yet, if it should so happen that she did not! An hour afterward he stood before Vivian Gwyneth, alone with her, in the fragrant, lialf-dim fernery, with liis handsome face yale with passionate pleading, his eyes full of masterful tend erness, as he told her how he loved her, and asked for her sweet self in return. And Vivian? I think it was tho sweetest way a wo man ever gave herself to her lover, that which she did, in her own perfect way, so proud, so tender, so charmingly sliy: "Before I answer you," she said, lift ing lier glorious eyes to his in a swift, radiant, little glance—"before I answer you, let me skow you—this—the picture of him I have loved all my life. Even as a baby I began to worship it. It was my ideal—l have worn it night and day. Would you oare to have me to tell you what you wish, knowing what I have told you?" A gasping sort of vague fear crept chilly over hiui in that oue instant when she laid u diamond-crusted gold locket in his hand. And then he opened it to look into his own eyes—the picture ho had given Isabel Lisle nineteen years before. She smiled in his astonished face. "You don't know—no one knows but my dear adopted parents—that I am Isabel Lisle's child; but I knew you, Tlieo, the first time I saw you, and I think, if 1 had not had mamma's locket. I should still have kuown you from her letters and diary I have kept. Ale you sorry 1 am mamma's daughter?" Was it possible—was it possible? Isabel's child! Then all the passion came radiantly back to his pale face, jpul astonished eyes, as lie held out his arms caress ingly. I think your mother has given you to uie. I loved her, but not as I love you, oh, my little one! Vivian will you come to me? Will you give yourself to me?" And she stepped inside the outstretch ed arms, and laid her bright head on his breast, and made him realize that it was for his highest human happiness that fate had seemed so apparently cruel iu all those past dreary years, which now, in one little momeut, wus blotted out forever. The Bedroom. A bedroom should impress the observ er with the idea of a dainty cleanliness reigning supreme in every partof it, while the prevalenoA of cool, soothing tones of color suggest repose au J rest. The pain* might bo delicate chocolate, the walls soft peagreeu; 110 color equals green for giving rest to the eyes, and in its paler tints it offers a pleasant sense of coolness during the most sultry days of summer, while they are free from the suspicion of coldness seen in many of the gray shades commonly used. Light colors make a room appear larger than the dark shades. Woodwork, painted chocolate, and cream walls look well with bright blue furniture covring and curtains, or maroon paint and citrine well with deep blue. A wall of a pale tone of blue and sagegreen woodwork will harmonize with furniture coverings l>caring a design of autumn tinted leaves. Stained boards are without doubt best for bed-rooms; a square of carpet covers the centre, leav ing three feet all roi\*d the room. Dust invariably collects under furniture and draughts of air sweep it up into the corners; but the boards, being without a covering, allow of its being easily taken up with a du-ter. Then, too, the carpet being simply laid down, there is no difficulty in the way of its being often shaken; 110 tacks have to IK* taken out or heavy wardrobes moved, so that there is no possible excuse for its being loft down until the dust aooumul atoa thickly iiilt for tho Throat. In these days, when diseases of the throat are so universally prevalent, and in so many cases fatal, we leel it our duty to say a word iu behalf of a most effectual, if not positive, cure for sore throat. For years past, indeed we may say during the whole of a life of more than forty years, we Lave been subjected to sore throat,ant. more particularly to a dry hacking cough, which is not only distressing to ourself,but to our friends aud these with whom we arc brought into business contact. Last fall we were induced to try what virtue there was in c<*uiuiou salt. We commenced by using it three limes a day, morning, noon, and night, We dissolved a large table spoonlul of pure salt in about half a small tumbler full of water. Willi this we gar gitd the throat most thoroughly just before meal time. Tbe result has been that dur iug the entire winter we were not only free from coughs and colds, but the dry hackiug cough hus entirely disappeared. We at tribute these satisfactory results solely to the use of tbe salt gargle, and most cordi ally recommend a trial of it to those who arc subject to diseases of the throat. Mauy parsot s who have never tried the salt gar gle have the impression that it is unpleas ant. Such is not the case. On the cou tiary, it is pleasant, and after a few days use, no person who loves a nice clean mouth and u first-rate sharpener of the appetite will abandon it. How Ruts Steal Honey. When the clerks in a certain Rochester drug-store are not operating with the mor tar and pestle, or compounding a black draught, or mixing equal parts of Turkey rhubarb and hydrocauic acid (for children teething), or spreading shoemaker's wax on porous plasters, or engaged in any of the multifarious modes of making them selves useful known to apprentice apothe caries ; iu a word, when they have an idle hour and a frit uti to entertain, they resort to a plan decidedly novel aud not without interest to lovers of anecdotes abemt ani mate. What the boys do is to take tbe honey jar from the shelf, take the stopptr iroui its mouth aud place it near a rat-hole from which one of the rodents emerges quickly when the store is quiet. It dis covers the presence of the honey in ash irt time through tbe assistance of its nose, aud then pwts in practice a plan it has found to work well for reaching the sweet contents ot the jar. The expedient is simply to in sert its tail in tke mouth of tha jar deep enougli to reach the honey, then withdraw it aud suck the linked sweetness at its lei sure. The clerks are ready to swear this story is true, and they are now carefully observing, for the benefit of science, the effect on the human family of strained honey in which rats' tails have been soak ed. TJ?K idea has become prevalent that the young ladies who practice tight lacing are fast. This is an error, as they are really the nQBt stayed among their sex. How to lamrn Botany. Botany is usually regarded as a very dull and difficult study, even for advanced stu dents, and of course quite too dry aud hard for yotUKT children. This ie all a mistake. Botany is really a most fascinating study for children or grown people. It is better adapted than almost any other to cultivate the very faculties which are not stimulated by other studies. The secret of success consists in making each student au inde pendent explorer at d diacoverer. Taught by au eutliur-iastic teacher, botany awak ens aud strengthens powers of accurate oh servatiou, acute perception aud correct classification, such as are needed to make life useful aud happy. The study of bot any may be commence J at any time. The bust lime is early spring. Suppose we start with a family of voung people from seven years old to twenty. We meet every day. For our first lesion we study any plaut, or part of a plant, that we have at hand. Each makes a sketch on paper, and writes a minute description of it. Then we put some seeds, or grains, such as beans, corns, oa;s, etc., in warm water to look till the next day. At the second les son we open some of these softened seeds, and observe their internal structure. The older and wiser ones tell the younger ones what they kn>w about the seeds. Then we plant the remainder, some in earth and • ome between layers of damp cotton float ing on a tumbler of water. Wbile waiting a few days for these to sprout, we bring up lroui the cellar onions, potatoes, celery, cabbage*, etc. Each object is examined externally and internally, sketched and cescribed iu writing. Some of them are planted in earth and put to warm places, that we may study their growth. Lookmg out of the wiudows, we examine each tree und shrub in sight, sketching and describ ing twig, branch, trunk and bark and swel ling bud. We cut cross sections,and com pare them with cross sections of ban boo wr pal 111 stems, as seen in common fans. We cut vertical sections, and compare them with the wood used in making furni ture. The flowers aud plants iu the win dow are sketched and described down to the most minute particulars. ISow we be gin to study a book on botany. Our seeds are beginning to germinate and illustrate the first lessons, and our leader takes care that in all our course our investigations shall keep in advance of our book lessou, that we have the pleasure of making discoveries and finding them coufirmed. Each day we recite something previously leaiued ; find plants to illustrate it, and others to lead 111 the direction of the next lesson. Then taking sums plant (if possible a complete one from root to flower and seed), we ex amine, sketch and describe it. Then turn ing to the analytical tables, we trace the description till we determine the species. We commit to memory and recite some of the distinguishing characteristics of tae family, thus becoming so familiar with them that in future we need not go through with the tabular analysis. We press and preserve specimens of all plants analyzed. As soon as possible we pursue our studies itt the fields and woods. In each of these excursions we study one particular organ or part of a plant. Sometimes collecting the greatest possible variety ot leaves, we sit down and compare the different forms. Sometimes we do the same with roots. Thus we learn a great deal about plants which we cannot analyze, because some part is lacking. In studying botany in the ordinary way very little enthusiasm is awakened ; but, studying it in the way described, vastly more iuterest is excited, and more know - ledge gained. A thousand tieauties arc disc ivered which the books pass over uu uoticcd. Any young person who has stu died botany for a single season could con duct a class on tbe p an I bave described. It is a shame that country children should be allowed to grow up igooraut of natural ob jects around them, it is time that edu cated people, tcbool boards, etc., should see that arithmetic and geography are not tbe only .'Cienees worth studying. Agri cultural societies would help to educate the young poople if they would offer premiums for profi -ieucy in natural scieuce as well as manufactured articles. Dead Hraucht*. According to a first-class author ity it has been clearly demon strated that a dead branch on a tree makes almost as great a strain ou the main plant for moisture as does a liviug one. It is one of the most important discoveries of mod ern botanical science to the practical horti culturist, as by this knowledge he car. save many a valuable tree. When one has been tiausplanted some roots get injured, aud the supply of moisture in the best cases Is more or less deficient. Auy dead branch, or any weak one, should therefore be at once cut away. So in pruning trees at transplanting, the large lifeful branches should not be cut back as is generally done, but the weak, half-dead ones that are usually left, should be the ones to cut away. l'he large, stoat ones arc reservoirs of the sap, which the plaut needs; the half-dead ones draw ou these reservoirs and contribute nothing of their own. It has been found that deciduous trees can be transplanted easily all through the summer season by s mply cutting out all the wtak aud nusir aide wood and leaving a lew main branches with their foliage. Married or Martyred. Ho walked iuto the office looking much like a man pretty well satisfied with geueral results, and said: " Can I see the editor?" He was shown that eminently useful adjunct to a newspaper at once. "Good morning, sir," ho cheerily be gan. •' Morniu'," said the editor. " I came in," he proceeded, "to tell you of a misprint in the paper." "Yes. What is it?" " Well, you see, I sent a notice around yesterday that Mr. Smith had been mar ried, and your compositor, I see, has got it Mr. Smith has just been martyred, but I guess it don't hardly make enough difference to change it." The editor scratched his head a min ute and thought of house-cleaning and other female eccentricities, and told the visitor, of course it didn't and he went away whistling, " Why should the spirit of mortal be proud?" The Crooked Coarse of Lore. Five years ago a maiden fair, whose home was a little town near Macon, Ga., anxiously awaited an important letter from her absent lover. Days passed wearily. The sighing lass haunted the post-oftie*, but the postmaster's face always bore tiiat look of exasperating quietude common to those from whom expected things never come. The maiden thought that her heart would break, for she realized at last that her lover was faithless. The scene shifts. It is September, 1881. In Macon dwells the same lady, but she is now a happy wife, with two children. She has for gotten the faithless one of her days of woe. She is therefore surprised when from the town of her youth comes a let ter bearing as a superscription to her maiden name that derived from her hus band. An accompanying note from the postmaster expluius that in tearing away some of the boards of a letter-case the missive was found. The envelope is postmarked "187(1." The lady spanks the baby to keep it quiet while she eagerly devours the contents. "Heavens! it is from John," who presses in loving words, and liegs a kind reply. The lady's husband also enjoys the letter, and, out of curiosity,communicates with relatives of the former lover. It is learn that he is a happy Chicago packer, with a wife and three sons. Ouecii Elizabeth's Youtli. Elizalx'th Tudor, tho famous quceu, was l>orn September 7, 1533, at a beauti ful palace 011 the Thames, at Greenwich. Her father was the cruel Henry VIII., the husband of six wives iu succession ; her mother was the fair, uufortunate Annie Boleyn. Her birth was the occa sion of a splendid ceremony. At her baptism the Lord Mayor of London and his officers came in state to Greenwich, clad in gold and purple. The nobility and the clergy assembled, and brought rich gifts of gold, silver and jewels. The trumpets sounded, the people cheered, and the infant princess was brought back to the palaoe with blazing torches by a crowd of gaily clad attend ants. For nearly three years she was looked upon as the heir to the crown ; a palace was given her, and she seemed destined only to good fortune. But now her cruel father cut off her mother, Anne Boleyn's head, and married another. Elizabeth was neglected, and was left without clothes and almost without food. "She hath neither gown, norkirtle, nor petticoat," wrote her governess of her, and "no meat at home." Her father forgot his child, and seemed almost to desire that she might die, like her mother. His third wife, Jane Seymour, died, leaving a son Edward, who was to l>e King of England. Elizabeth was now treated with kindness, and formed a strong affection for her young brother. She was about four years older than he was. As they grew up thev were edu eated together in the same palace, and had the same tutors. They studied Greek, Latin, Italian, French, and learned to write well. At twelve, Eliza beth could compose iu French and Ital ian; and when Edward was about twelve, ho began to keep a journal, which is still read with pleasure. Their elder sister, Mary Tudor, afterward the cruel queen, was sometimes with them. Their father, Henry VIII., gave them excel lent teaohers, and they lived in happi ness together several years. But Henry had in the meantime divorced one wife (Aline of Cleves), cut off the head of an other (Catharine Howard), and he final ly married a widow, Catharine Parr, who outlived him. He died in 1547. When the news of his death was brought to Elizabeth and Edward, who were in the room together, they burst into floods of t -ars. Edward went up to London and be came king at nine years of ago. Eliza beth fell into bad health, grew pale and thin, and for many months seemed scarcely to hope for life. She wrote sometimes to Edward, and their fond ness for each other still continued. She grew up tall, fair, her eyes blue, her hair red or auburn, her nose prominent, her manners pleasant and attractive. She played on the viol, danced, sang, read Greek, spoke Latin easily, and was fond of literature; she made transla tions from the Italian, and was one of the most intelligent persons of the time. At this period she dressed very plainly, and lived a studious life. In 1553 Ed ward died, at sixteen. Mary, his eldest sister, became queen, and at one moment wished to put Elizabeth to death. She was carried to the Tower, passed through the Traitor's Gate, and was a prisoner for many months. At last Mary relent ed, aud set her free. Marry died in 1558 and Elizabeth became Queen of Eng land. Her life can scarcely be called a liappy one, for she was in constant danger of assassination, and her enemies on all sides threatened to deprive her of her crown. Her chief rival and foe was her second cousin, Mary, Queen of Soots. Mary was Queen of Scotland, and claimed to be Queen of England. She said Elizabeth had 110 right to the throne. Mary was suspected of mur dering her husband, Darnley, was driven from Scotland by the people, and be came Elizabeth's prisoner for nineteen years. She was always plotting againts *her cousin; sometimes she planned the assassination of the Queen with the dia oontented English, and sometimes she called upon the Kings of France and Hpaiu to invade England, and place her on its throne. Mary's long oaptivity and various misfortunes have made her au object of lasting interest. Like all the Tudors, she was very intelligent and very cruel. Elizabeth kept her for nine teen years a state prisoner in different castles. At last, when some new plot was discovered, it was thought neces sary to put her to death. Elizabeth signed the order for her cousin's execu tion with tears and hesitation. She had no doubt, some humanity. • Soon after, Philip 11. of Spain sent the great armada to conquer England and destroy Elizabeth ; but the brave Englsli sailors defeated the Spaniards, aud the great fleet was washed to pieces on the coasts of Scotland and Ireland. Elizabeth's reign was a very famous one. Shakespeare and Spencer were its poets; Bacon, Cecil and Raleigh, its active leaders. The Queen was always fond of reading, aud spoke Latiuto the students at Oxford. But she grew l ain, proud, and forgot her early simplicity. At six teen she had worn only plain elothes, and lived in quiet study; at sixty she covered herself with laces, brocades and satins, and left at her death three thou sand costly dresses and eighty wigs. She never married ; and when she died, in 1003, Jaines L, the son of her cousin and rival, Mary, Queen of Scots, became king. _ Translated by the Queen. A good story reaches us from Belgium, the truth of which is guaranteed. A bank ing house at Verviers recently received a letter from a hank at Buda Pesth. The re cipients knew that it related to a matter of great ioportance; but, unfortunately, they could not master the contents of the mis sive, as it was written in the Hungarian language, aud there was not a soul at Ver viers wno understood that tongue. Accor dingly, one of the partners rook a journey to Brussels, ex[)ectuig to find everything he wanted at the Capital, but only to be disappointed—nobody at the banks could read Hungarian. There was, however, still the Austru-Hungarian Embassy, whither the banker betook himself, to learn that there was an attache who spoke Hun garian, but he had gone to Biarritz for some sea bathing. Almost in despair, the hero of the story call ed upon the Bourgo master, with whom ke was acquainted, and related his troubles. Alier some thougat his worship, striking his forehead, exclaim ed: ,l Aft rail, sometimes our most foolish ideas prove the best.' 1 With this enigmat ical observation he asked for the lerrer. The next day he returned the original to the gentleman from Verviers, with a trans lation in French, in a neat, feminine hand. "To what Hungarian fairy do I owe this good fortune?'' asked the delighted banker. "This is an affair involving some milpons, and 1 shall be happy to pay a handsome douceur to the translator who has enabled me to get at the mesning of the letter in lime to conclude the affair," "I take you at your word," replied the Bourgomasier. "Give me 10,000f. for the poor ot Brussels for the trauslator is none other than the Queen. She has experienced lively satis faction in employing her knowledge of the Hungaiian language to oblige one of her subjects," The Queen ot the Belgians is a daughtei of the Archduke Joseph, whose beneticient rule of Hungary is still remem bered by the peopie, and she was bom in the capital city during her father's palatin ate. Woodcook Telegraphy. On a number of occasions I hare closely observed the woodcock's system of tele graphy. The bird's mandibles are furnish ed with extremely sensitive nerves, so ar ranged that when the point of the bill rests UJHJU the ground the slightest sounds are conveyed to its brain, Standing upon the watei-saturated earth of a spouty bog, our bird utters a laint, keen cry, scarcely au dible at two rods' distance, theu immedi ately lets fall his head till the tip of his oill touches the ground, and listens atten • ively. If his mate hears him she replies, puts her bill on the ground, and listens in turn. So the love messages go back and forth as long as the birds have anything to say. This sort of thing usually happeus in the soft twilights lrom May to the mid dle of August, though occasionally 1 have seen and heard it in the broad daylight of a summer day. In June 1868, 1 made the following note: ''To-day sketched a wood cock in the listening attitude. Shall try to get further studies." Five years later I succeeded in getting three more sketches and last year (1880) I got four m ire. Many of these and kindred sketches have been obtained at the end of indescribable care and labor. The woodcock is so shy, so attentive, so sensitive, that the least sound will cause it to skulk and hide—a thing it does with even greater cunning and suc cess than the quail, The only way in which 1 ever have been able to get near enough to the bird to sketch its natural at titude has been to crawl on the wet ground through tangled weeds and shrubs until I reached a hiding place on the border of its feeding range, and there patiently and si lently wctch for its coming. This 1 have done over and over again for days together before getting sight of the bird On the Cow-Catcher. In a railroad car the seats were all full except one, which was occupied by a pleasant-looking Irishman, and at one of the stations a couple of evidently well-bred and intelligent young ladies came in to procure Beats. Seeing none vacant, they were about to go to the next car when Patrick arose hastily and offered them his seat with evident pleas ure. "But you will have no seat for your self," responded one of the young ladies with a smile, hesitating, with true po liteness, to accept it. "Niver mind that," said the gallant Hibernilan; I'd ride upon a cow-catcher to New York any time for a smile from such jintlemanly ladies!" And he retired hastily into the next car amid the cheers of his fellow pas sengers. NO. 46.