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<hik
ing, as not for the first, or the seoond,
or the dozenth time he had looked just
so eagerly, at lovely Vivian Gwyneth.
Of late, Edmerton had been passing
through a strange experience, and fair
liaired Vivian was very intimately con
nected with it—so intimately that, dur
ing these past few weeks, Edmerton had
<*> 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.