VOL. LV.
HARTER,
AUCTIONEER,
REBKRSBUKG. PA.
J C. SPRINGER,
Fashionable Barber,
Next Door to JOURNAL Store,
MILLHKIH, PA.
JgROCKERUOFF HOUSE,
(Opposite Court House.)
H. BROCKEBHOFF, Proprietor.
WM. MCKKKVKR, Manager.
Good sample rooms ou first floor.
Free bus to and from all tralus.
Special rates to jurors and witnesses.
Strictly Fifst Clast.
IRVIX HOUSE.
(Most Central Hotel In the City,)
Corner MAIN and JAY Streets,
Lock Haven, Pa.
8. WOODS CALWELL, Proprietor.
Good Sample Rooms for Commercial
Travelers on first floor.
D. H. MINGLE,
Physician and Surgeon,
MAIN Street, MILLHEIM, Pa.
JOHN F. HARTER,
PRACTICAL DENTIST,
Office in 2d story of Tomliuson's Gro
cery Store,
On MAIN Street, MILI.HKIM, Pa.
BF. KINTER,
A FASHIONABLE BOOT JT SHOE MAKER
Shop next door to Foote'S Store, Maiu St.,
Boot*. Shoes and Gaiters made to order, and sat
isfactory work GUARANTEE Kejiairingdone prompt
ly and cheaply, and in a neat style.
S. R. PKALK. H. A. MOKEE.
PEALE Ac McK EE,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
office opposite Court House, B?llefonte, Pa.
C. T. Alexander. C. M. Bower.
ATTORNEYS AT LAW.
BKLLKFONTK, PA.
Office In G&rm&n's 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.
JJ H HASTINGS,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Office on Allegheny Street, '2 doors west of office
formerly occupied by the late firm of Yocum 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. BEEDER,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BELLEFONTE, PA.
All bus'ness promptly attended to. Collection
of claims a speciality.
J. A. Beaver. J W. 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.
W. S. KELLER,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BELLEFONTE, PA,
Consultations in English or German. Office
In Lyon'o Building, Allegheny Street.
JOHN G. LOVE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
*9 BELLEFONTE, PA. 0
Office In the rooms formerly occupied by the
UW W7 P. WUAOA.
lie pillbeiw initial
OLl> DKKAMS.
Where are thy footstep I was went to hear,
O Spring, tu pauses of the blaekbtrvl's song?
I hear them not; the world has held mine ear
With Its insistent sound too long, too loug 1
The footfall and the sweeping roties of Spring,
How, oaoe, t hailed them as life's full delight!
Now, little moved, 1 hear the blaekblrd slug,
As blind men wake uot at the auddeu light.
Nay, not unmoved? But yestereve I stood
Beneath thee, throned, queen songstress, in the
beech;
And for one moment heaven was that greenwood,
And the old dreams weut by, too deep for speeeii.
One moment —It was passed; the gusty breeie
Brought laughter and rough voices from the lane;
Night, like a inlst, clothed rouud the darkening
trees.
And 1 was with the world that mocks again.
So near is Eden, yet so far; it lies.
No angel-guarded gate, too far from sight;
We breathe, we touch It, yet our blinded eyes
Still seek it every way except the right.
THK COQUETTK'S LOVE.
"ARE VOU engaged to be married to
Charlie Danforth, Kate ?" asked Ann
Duncan of her friend.
" Prav why do you ask that ques
tion ?" retorted Kate Landon, rather
peevishly.
" I asked merely for information," re
plied Ann.
"Well, what put such an idea into
your head ? I cannot guess who told
you. lam very sure I never lisped such
a tiling."
"Such is the current report, Kate.
You have not told me whether it is true;
but I mistrust it is."
"Yes, I'll own it, Ann; though I'm
ashamed to."
"When are you going to l>e married ?
or don't you intend to be married ?"
" I told him I would be marritHl next
winter, but I won't. lam tired of him
already." •
" Kate Landon," said Ann, " will you
promise to answer me one question, if
you can ?"
"Yes, half a dozen, if they are not too
silly."
" How many times have you been en
gaged, then ?"
" 'Pon my word, I don't know.
Twenty times, I guess."
"As many as that to my knowledge,'
said Aim.
"Yes," said Kate, " there was Will
Harley. He was such a wit that I told
him I would have him for the sake of
laughing ; but I soon got tired of his
folly, and told him so. And Captain
Stanton, with such beautiful, curling
moustaches! I never liked him. I only
engaged myself to liirn for the sake of
teasing Fan Lawrence. And Burwell;
I don't know why I flirted with liim, ex
cept it was l>eeause no one else offered
himself just then. And there was Mr.
Higgins, with a most beautiful hand and
foot! But I found he wore tight boots,
and I would not have him. Who would?
And young Simper, who looked so senti
mental, and always talked of love and
moonlight! I ooneluded he must be the
man in the moon, anil I should not like
to live in moonshine always. And there
was Wilmertou, who looked so silly,
and never said anything worth mention
ing in his life. But I never engaged
myself to him. I flirted with him till
he made me an offer, and then refused
him. And Jenkins! Good reason why
I refused him. The only question in
my mind is why I ever engaged to marry
him. And Simpson his father was
rich, but I found that he was stingy.
There is a host of others, but lam tired.
They call me a coquette, but I don't
care. I won't have anybody I don't
like ; and if I find it out after I am en
gaged to them, I'll break off the match."
" I would not have any one I did not
like either, Kate ; but why did you not
mention Henry Eaton in your catalogue!
I thought he stood at the head!"
" Because I did not want to, Aun. I
do not like to speak of him with those
fellows."
" But you were engaged to him, were
you uot ?"
" Yes; we promised to have each
other when we were children, and re
ne veil the promise once a week regular
ly, until he went away."
" Why did you then break the en
gagement? I should have thought it
was so strong, no power on earth could
have done it."
" I thought so once, but I have grown
wiser. I have found by sad experience
that vows are things of air.''
" But you really loved Henry, once ?"
" Yes, and always have and do yet."
" Why, what made you refuse him,
then ?"
"I did not refuse him, Ann. The
fact is, that Henry Eaton was poor, and
he felt it. Edward Leslie's father was
very wealthy ; be had just returned from
college, and frequently came to see me,
though for nothing more than friend
ship, and because we were children to
gether, as yon yourself know.
" Henry was a little jealous; he hinted
his suspicions to me.
" I was angry that he should suspect
that I could love any one more than him,
and especially that I loved him less be
cause he was floor.
"I told him, in a pet, that if he
thought me so fickle, he could be re
leased from all childish engagements.
" This only confirmed his suspicions ;
he left me. I received a letter of fare
well from him.
" Where he went, I never knew. He
lias probably forgotten me, and given
lua heart to one more worthy of him;
MILLHEIM. PA., THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 24,1881.
but 1 have uot forgotten hiui, ami never
can.
"Thcv call mo a heartless coquette
perhaps Henry does. I was not a co
quette then, though 1 have been since.
" My heart is given to Henry, but 1
have lost his."
"But, Kate, if you have loved no one
but Henry Eaton, why have you so often
promised to marry others? Was it for
the sake of breaking your promise ?"
" No, not exactly that, 1 hardly know
why I have done so. I have given you
the reason for some of my engagements.
I did not know but 1 might forget Hen
ry, and love some other one—but I can
not ; sometimes I did it for fun, and
sometimes I was altogether reckless.
But I will never promise to muirv again.
I'll tell Charles Danforth I cannot love
him, and live a nun for Henry's sake."
"See that yon keep that resolution,"
said Ann, laughing at Kate's sober con
clusion.
"Oh! I'm in earnest. I'm tired of
hearing of broken hearts and dying
lovers. There is no sense in it. I am
tired of being called cruel and hard
hearted. I'll give no more occasions for
silly words and sickening sonnets. I
am really determined to bike the veil."
" Perhaps you are serious, but I'll
wager a diamond ring that you'll lie en
gaged again liefore the end of the win
ter."
" I don't think I shall have much lie 3d
for diamond rings in a convent," said
Kate ; " but I'll accept your bet, for I
know I shall win and it shall remain a
lasting witness that I have, at least,
kept one promise."
Thus the bet was agreed upon.
Kate Laudon had determined to be
ooine a nun, and immediately wrote for
admission to a convent in the following
spring.
I don't know but she would have
taken the veil the next day after her
conversation with Ann Duncan: but Ann
was to be married in a few weeks to
Edward Leslie, and Kate had promised
to le her bridesmaid.
This, like the promise lad ween Kate
and Henry Eaton, had l>eeu made in
ehililiuxxl and ratified ever since.
If Kate was married first, Ann was
to bo her bridesmaid ; and if Ann was
married first, Kate was to be hers.
Though Kate had made twenty promi
ses to her beaux, and broken them all;
and though she had declared that vows
are things of air, yet these two promi
ses she had ever considered sacred; and
though her promise to Henry was now
void, yet there were moments like that
in which she had conversed with Ann
Duncan, when she felt that perhaps it
was binding, and she would live in se
clusion rather than trifie with or break
the engagement.
The promise she had made to Ann
though of minor importance, was also a
promise of childhood, and now remained
in full force; and Kate deferred entering
the convent, in order to fulfil it.
Ann's wedding was a joyous occasion
to all save Kate Landon. It had l>een
long wished for and expected.
The parties were wealthy, and young,
and handsome, and happy in each other's
love.
The wedding party was large and
fashionable. The apartments were
splendidly adorned and lighted up. The
refreshments were rare and sumptuous.
The bride was elegantly arrayed. She
looked almost as beautiful as Kate.
The bridegroom looked better than
usual, though Kate thought not so well
as Henry Eaton.
But all this happiness, elegance,
beauty and bliss had no charms for Kate.
She had dressed herself richly, and
with taste, and looked beautiful ; for
she could not look otherwise.
She looked happy and pleased, for
she would not look otherwise at Ann's
wedding; yet she felt that such a festi
val might have been, but never would be
for her.
That all those happy smiles and joy
ous wishes and bridal kisses might have
been lavished upon her who soon would
be so lonely.
When she looked at Edward, the
happy bridegroom, she thought of Hen
ry and their sail parting, and longed for
the sad cell of the convent—the holy
cloister of the devoted nun.
Gay music echoed through the festive
halls. Youth and beauty joined in the
" light-toed dance," but as Kate accep
ted the hand of the first groomsman to
join in the quadrille, she felt that it was
for the last time.
Her partner was a young gentleman
from India. He had just arrived.
Kate had been introduced to him as
Lieutenant Atwood, an old friend of
Edward Leslie's, who had returned in
order to visit his friends, and be present
at Edward's wedding.
He was tall, erect, and of a fine figure;
with large, regular features, and dark,
expressive eyes.
He was noble, dignified and command
ing in his bearing ; graceful in the dance
—all that a girl could love.
Before they had finished the first set,
Kate was deeply interested in his con
versation, and thought he bore a strong
resemblance to Henry Eaton.
She w-as tired and did not join in the
second quadrille ; but Mr. Atwood sat
by her on th 6 window-seat, and was even
more interesting than in the dance.
Ann Duncan (now Mrs, Leslie) Looked
at tlicm ami thought of the diamond
ring.
Mr. At wood attended Kate to the
supper table. She did not fiirt; she
was evidently pleased with him.
Ho handed her into the carriage, and
Kate uaktsl him to call upon her.
Ho culled the next womiug.
I hasten to the sequel.
The winter wits not more than half
finished when Ann received a diamond
ring and a note from Kate, stating that
she was once more engaged'to Im* inar
riixl, and before the end of winter there
was a more splendid aud elegaut wed
ding. A larger and more fashionable
party than we have bofoie described.
A more beautiful brid and a hand
somer bridegroom than Ann Duncan and
Edward Leslie.
Kate Lamlon was married to Henry
Eaton.
Solution Lieutena.it At wood was
Henry Eaton. The pld and fictitious
name hud boon coutrival by Ann Dun
can and Edward Leslie
The climate and liariships of India
had so changed Henry his dress ami
manners were so alterin, that Kate did
not recognize him. Afcer the wedding
Kate received a diamorl ring from Ann.
She hail not made a lew engagement ;
only renewed an old on.
The Itloude HMICIIU.
"Did you ever see Uem buckskin
bronchos of mine that I ised to drive,
named Yeller and Yuiler*" asked Buek
Brawel the other dap ol Gen. Worth,
while he looked out across the green
billowy divide toward tie eternal whit
euers of the snowy rang).
"Why, no; never head of em."
"Well," faid Buek, as-a tender light
came in his blue eyes, aid a three-corn
ered nugget of tin-taj tobacco was
stowed away in his cheek "both of them
same cayuse plugs coJd scoot over
more mountain road be ween sun and
suu than anything in tin line of boss I
ever see.
"Yeller was pretty niddlin' rapid
but Yaller was an imported terror.
You ought to see him gather up his
limbs in a wad and vanb*. One day I
was out on loard of 'aller, tryin' to
round up an American oow that ha<l
strayed away from the orral, and over
west of the divide I woited up a long
legged buck antelope.
"I made a little shnsay over toward
the anteloj>e to see him Ufht out, but he
first praueed along kind 4 careless like,
as much as to say, 'I gues I wou't give
you uo 2:13 gait this mcning. Life is
too brief. I can't run tht way just to
amaze every snoozer that'omes this way
011 a blonde plug like tht.'
"I touched up old Wler with the
quirt, and sailed over toward the ante
lope, thinkiu' I'd stir hu up a little.
"The antelope trottd along a few
rods, and then looked oack over his
shoulders and smiled a iardonic smile,
that made old Yaller as uiad as a wet
hen.
"Thou he got up and got. Jewliilik
ins, how he pawned Occas
ionally the antelope woid look around
and snort, and jump tiff-legged, and
laugh. Then old Yalle would consume
some more spac..
"The antelojx* turied hiaiself loose,
and for a while all I muld see was a lit
tle cloud of dust and he white spot that
is always behind thisamusin' little ani
mal.
"After a while, however, T could see
that the white patch p>t bigger. Yal
ler was gainin', I ja>bed the Mexican
spurs into him to eu<ourage him. His
tongue hung out so tiftt lie stepped on
it every little while.
"He didn't laugh aiy more then. It
was a terrible reality He seemed to
think we had impose! on him somehow.
Everyjlittle while he.ooked at old Yaller
kind of reproachful, is if we'd taken ad
vantage of him.
"By'n by lreaohd over and took him
by the ears and laidhim across the sad
dle ahead of me am" took him home. I
kept him for yea*, but he never ral
lied.
"He seemed to lose all hope, and
would walk arouuuthe corral like an old
billy-goat that had b?eu betrayed some
time. Life for himSftuned to lie nothing
but a wide, shorebss vaste of bitter dis
appointment and iegr?t.
"I bill you, General it takes the hope
and joy and pride all out of ajantelope to
be scooped by a sl6 buckskin bron
cho."
"Yes," said the General, "I should
think it would. If 1 was a broken-legged
antelope, with a fort done up in a gum
overshoe, and coulch't outrun any buck
skin boss I ever saw, I'd go away to
some lonely spot aad stick my bead in
to a prairie dog's hole, and die of re
morse "
Sport in Saxony.
The peasant inhabitants of Saxony are
perhaps the richestfn the world. Want is
scarcely known anting them. Once a year
a 'air is held by tip farmers, at which the
hirses are exhibited and a race called the
Flag liace is held. The animals used are
only plow horses, and not trained for any
such sports, aud ill sorts of comic scenes
occur. Small trees grow at intervals on
the race course, aid the riders attempt to
fell them as thev pass. Whoever succeeds
first in this endeavor is the winner of the
race, is presented with a flag, and becomes
the village hero on the spot.
Parson lirlggs.
The other day Parson Biggs, an old
time preacher from "away in the <x>uu
try," paid his first visit to Little Rock,
He went to the residence of old 'Squire
Mtickle, who at one time had lived iu
the parson's neighliorhood. The Squire's
family were oxctxxliugly glad to see the
parson, fir years ago he had tukeii off
his saddle at the Squire's gate: had
eaten corn bread and cabbage with the
family and hud sung and prayed until
the boys, who had plowed all day fell
asleep. After singing the old familiar
songs aud praying the old familiar pray
er, the 'Squire conducted the parson to
the bed-room designed for the rest of
the good old servant.
"What do you call this?" asked the
parson, regarding with an air of interest
a mosquito-bar suspended aUve the
bed.
"Why, that is a mosquito-bar."
"What account is it? '
"To keep off mosquitoes."
"Brother Muckle, I thought that you
were too sensible a man to give way to
these town fixin's. You told me that
when I came to see you that we would
have a revival of the old days. Now
y u want to hang the thing over me.
Take it down, please. I'm afraid that
the vanity that I've allers heard lurked
alxut these towns is taking a-hold of
you."
The bar was taken down and the old
man blew out his candle, which he al
ways carried in his saddle-bag, with a
"puff," and retired.
"The' Squire and Mrs. Muckle slept
in an adjoining room. They hail been
in )>ed but a few moments, wlien Mrs.
Muckle remarked:
"What was that noise?"
"Pow, pang!" came from the adjoin
ing room.
"I don't know what it is,"'answered
the 'Squire, stuffing the corner of the
pillow into his mouth.
"Slap!" came from the next room.
"Did you hear that?" exclaimed Mrs.
Muckle.
"It's nothing," said the 'Squire.
"Something is shaking the bed, Mr.
Muckle "
"Slap, slap!"
"Go in there and see what's the mat
ter with the parson, Mr. Muckle."
"Chuck, chuck, chuck," was all that
Muckle could say.
"You act like a man that hasn't got
any sense. You'd lay here and see a
man die in the net room."
"How can I lay here and (chuck) see
a man in the (cnuck) next nx>m? The
door's shut and the lights out."
"Slap, bang!"
"You must go in there, Mr. Muckle."
"Why don't you go?"
"Think I'm going into a man's room?
All right, if the old man dies it ain't my
fault;" and Mrs. Muckle turned over
and Muckle chuckled liimself to sleep.
Next morning when the parson npjx'ar
ed at the breakfast table he presented a
swollen appearance. His face was cov
ered with bumps aud his hands looked
as though ho had the nettle rash.
"I lay there and fit them tilings all
night," he said solemnly. "Reckon you'd
better put up that thin looking sheet,"
and liowing over his plate he said,
"Gracious Lord, make us thankful for
these, Thy many blessings."
An Indian l'rui'**■.
Princess Marie Lulu Nemenoosha, as
she is colled, now on her way West,
is a member of the tril>e of Blackfeet
rodskius. She is not a thoroughbred
savage, for her father. Joe Lavagme,
was a famous French trapper and scout,
for many years iu the service of the
United States. Nemenoosha Is a come
ly woman about twenty eight years of
age. She wears the usual Indian garb
—gay colors, with strings of beads
about her neck, and large ear-rings,
crescent shaped, in her auriculars. A
woman of moie than ordinary intelli
gence, she converses well in several lan
guage. Maria Lulu has a very roman
tic history. Her father, while on a
hunting excursion in 1847, was lost, but
was pioked up by some friendly Osage
Indians, who treated him kindly, sup
plied him with food, as he was almost
starved and took him to their camp. He
became much attached to his red breth
ren, and married Nemenoosha, daughter
of the chief, a girl of rare beauty.
Upon the death of his squaw's father,
Lavagnie succeeded to the position of
chief. To his wife a daughter was born.
Lavagnie finally became tired of his
wild mode of life, and, his wife having
died, at the imminent risk of his life, he
stole away with his irfant child, two
years old and reached Montreal, Can..
in safety. The little girl was placed in
a convent, where she remained until
fourteen years of age. During this time
Nemenoosha obtained a finished educa
tion, and learned to speak French flu
ently. Her father married the second
time, and by his second wife had four
children. About three years since La
vagnie died, leaving a handsome fortune,
Nemenooslia's share of which would have
been $16,000, but her stepmother proved
her Indian birth, and the girl was cut
off without a farthing. She knew noth
ing of her Indian origin until that time,
and at once she went West, among her
own people, where she was treated very
kindly. Organizing a company of the
wild red men, she went with them to
Europe, and made a very successful tour
of England, exhibiting in nearly all the
leading cities of the United Kingdom.
A few months ago the princess returned
to this country, and is now on her way,
with her husband, Wild Harry, to his
ranch in Texas,
The l*r*MiUential Bullet.
In reviewing B tuo case from an autopti
cal standpoint, it is quite easy to otlcr
criticism. The stubborn facts of poMt.
mortem always stand out in bold relief
against decisions rendered ante mortem.
But it must be recollected that there were
peculiar difficulties in the case. Tney are
best appreciated by all who have had ex
perience in the treatment of gunshot
wounds. However greatly we may regret
that, in view of the great public import
ance of lite case, a correct opinion as to
the course of the ball was not made at the
beginning and was not proven at the end,
it is quite difficult to see how the error
conld have been avoideil. There were no
symptoms during life to point to the local
ity of the ball. But, even at the worst, as
proving that the surgeons never knew
during the life of the patient where the
ball was located, there is nothing to show
that in consequence of that error the pa
tient suffered. The bail itself, by being
firmly encysted, became harmless, while
the real cause of all the trouble had its
origin seemingly in the comminution of
the eleventh rib. It is a matter tor muco
congratulation that the bullet was not found
in a pus cavity. Under such circu'ustan
ces, even if it were impossible fo remove
the Lullet, there would have been many
who would have claimed that such an
operation should have bccu attempted, or
at least that the neglect to resort to such a
procedure was indirectly the cause ot the
patient's death. But ail doubts in such a
direction are cleared up by the autopsy.
Ou the supposition that the ball should
have been extracted iu any event, what
have we not esca(>ed ? At least the wis
dom of not cutting down upon the mist ile
until the locality oi the latter was clearly
niade out, cannot be gainsaid. As uearl)
two hours were consumed in finding the
ball at the autopsy, what might have been
the chances of extracting the missile during
life I
Burglary Epidemic iu Loudun.
It is a curious satire upon the complacent
l>oait that we are the most orderly and law
abiding nation in the world that the public
should be dtscussiug with eager interest
whether the protection of life aud property
in tbe surburbs of London demards the
arming of the police with cutlasses and
revolvers. The murder of the policeman
by burglars at Kingston has given point and
urgeuey to the discussion, and there are
not lacking symptoms that London is on
the eve of a scare about burglars similar to
the famous scare about garroters. Nor can
it be denied that there is some ground for
the general alarm. The long nights are
setting in, and the housebreakers of the
metropolis have begun the season with
spirit. Burglaries, many of them—sucn
as that at Kingston—giving evidence that
the burglars arc as ready with the revolver
as with the jimmy, have been reported
almost simultaueousl) in several d ; rectioos,
and as yet none of the marauders appear to
have been arrested. The police statistics
prove that burglarly is on the increase in
London. In 1879, 903 cases were reported;
but last year tbe number rose to 1,292,
while the number of cases of shopbreaking
increased iu the same period front 302 to
393. Even atter allowing a liberal margin
tor changes iu classification, which vitiate
so many statistical comparisons, this par
ticular crime seems to be increasing in fre
quency. Unfortunately the nuuiber of
burglars convicted has by no means kept
pace with the mcrease of burglaries com
mitted. in 1879 there were 162 con
victions. orjoue.couviction to every six cas< s.
but in 1880 there were only 142, or one to
every nine. In the same period there was
reported an ounuous increase in the number
of other robberies, assaults with intent to
rob, and cases of sacrilege. There were
omy twenty-nine cases of sacrilege, an
offence closely akin to burglary, in 1879 ;
but they increased by 200 per cent, in 1880;
but although there were three convictious
in 1879, in 1880 there were only five to
eighty-five offeuces. If to these significant
and disquieting figures we add the fact that
murdcis in the metropolis rose last year
from nine to seventeen, we have sufficient
warrant for regal (ling the situatnm with
considerable uneasiness.
A Bath Tub.
We .have one in our bouse, and we have
a bath room, too. llow many farmers can
say the same. Not one in a thousand,
perhaps. 1 don't know of another farm
house in all this country that has a bath
tub. Every man and woman knows that
frequent bathing is necessary to good
health. Our family bathe three to four
times a week in warm weather, and once a
week in cold weather. My neighbors's wife
told us, that not one of her famiiy had
washed <4 all over" for a month. They had
no bath tub, and had to use a wash tub or
simply take a towel or sponge bath. A
sponge bath is better than none, but can
not hallway come up to a good splash in a
genuine bath tub. We got our bath tub—
the zinc part —IU town, and had a carpen
ter put it iuto a small bed room which we
henceforth dubbed''the bath room" and
used it for this purpose only, except to
hang clothes iu. It has a pipe leading ou
side into a large hole or cesspool. Of
course we have to carry water to All the
tub, as we have no pipes to carry water
through the house as in the city. But our
stove has a large heating reservoir, which
holds enough warm water to bathe the
whole family. We intend to run a pipe
from the cistern into the bath room, and
have a pump that will pump water di
rectly into the tub. Our bath room as
arranged only cost us $lO and it is worth
SIOO a year, in health and comfort.
Dangeron* Houses.
Houses that have been empty may become
fever breeders when they come to be re
occupied. An English sanitary officer
alleges that he has obeerved typhoid,
diplheria or other zymotic affections to
arise under these circumstances. The
cause is supposed to be in the disuse of
cisterns, pipes and drains, the process of
putrefaction going on in the impure air in
the unobstructed access of this air to the
house, while the closure of windows and
door effectually shuts out fresh air. Per
sons moving from the city to their country
homes for the summer, should see that the
drains and pipes are in perfect order, that
the cellar and closets are cleared of rub
bish, snd the house thoroughly aired before
occupying. Carbolic acid used freely in
the cellar is a good and cheap disinfectant.
FOOD FOB THOUGHT.
Wrinkles are the tomb of love.
He that wants wealth wants every
thing.
Great talkers discharge too fast to
' take aim.
Men should be tried l>efore they are
trusted.
Little by little great things are accom
plished.
Diseases are often the interest paid for
pleasure.
Faith will tiust God where it cannot
trace him.
Surely, some people's ways are past
finding out.
While God renews our leases we
should renew our rent.
The follies of youth furnish food for
repentance in old age.
Home men and women talk by the
yard and think by the inch.
He who can plant courage iu a human
oul is the best physician.
If tradesmen make their weights light
er, they make their sins heavier.
The man who fails in business but
continues to live in luxury is a thief.
Listen to conscience more than to in
tellect.
More important than the thing you
do may be the discipline of the doing.
The tilings which we enjoy are pass
ing and we are passing who enjoy them.
To win, work, and wait—but work a
good deal more than you wait.
The liest throw with the dice is to
throw them away.
Varieties of mere nothings give more
pleasure than uniformity of something.
The world is a comedy to those who
think, a tragedy to those who feel.
The reproaches of enemies shonld
quicken us to duty, and not keep us from
it
We carry our neighbors' crimes in
sight and throw our own over our
shoulders.
What we charitably forgive will be
recompensed as well as what we charit
ably give.
Those who are disposed to be uneasy
will never want something to be uneasy
about.
The greatest sources of happiness and
usefulness are open to rioh and poor
alike.
Bodily labor alleviates the pain of the
mind. Hence arises the happiness of
the poor.
Temptations come to us from our own
bosom maiuly. That is the great maga
zine of temptations.
I have seldom known any one who de
serted truth iu trifles that could be
trusted in matters of importance.
Doubt al vays sees huge obstacles in
the way of accomplishing anything—
nay, the doubt itself is the obstacle.
The highest elements of character, of
power and of dignity lie within reach of
the lowest and the poorest.
The government of a nation demands
a certain harmony like music, and cer
tain proportions like architecture.
Commending a right thing is a cheap
substitute for doiDg it, and with this we
are too apt to satisfy ourselves.
Never count on the favor of the rich
by flattering either their vanities or
vices.
The best penance we can do for envy
ing another's merits is to endeavor to
surpass them.
Politics is a science which no one be
lieves those who differ from him uuder
stand.
As ravenous birds are the quickest
sighted, so are the worst people the
greatest fault-flnders.
There is no one study that is not capa
ble of delighting us after a little appli
cation to it.
Men are never so ridiculous for the
qualities they have as for those they
affect to have.
Bashfulness may sometimes exolude
pleasure, but seldom opens any avenue
hi sorrow or remorse.
If there is any great and good thing in
store for you, it will not oome at the
flrst or second call.
The height of ability consists in a
thorough knowledge of the real value of
things, and of the genius of the age we
live in.
Instead of being content to live so as
to blame, the Christian is requir
ed to live so as to prove a means of
blessing.
One of the most effectual ways of
pleasing and of making one's self loved
is to be cheerful; joy softens more
hearts than tears.
Life is a casket, not precious in itself,
but valuable in proportion to what for
tuxe, or industry, or virtue has placed
within it.
Hope is man's birthright, which, after
all hid blandishments, delusions and
mockeries, never maketh him ashamed
to hope on, hope ever.
Tliey don't ring bells to let the peo
ple know when the theatre or circus
open, and yet nobody gets there too
late.
The universal heart of a man blesses
flowers. He has wreathed them around
the cradle, the marriage altar, and the
tomb.
Those are meek gentlefolks who mask
their faults to others and to themselves;
the true know them perfectly and ac
knowledge them.
Good temper is like a sunny day ; it
sheds a brightness over everything ; it
is the sweetener of toil and the soother
of disquietude.
Simplicity of manner is the last at
tainment. Men are very long afraid of
being natural, from the dread of being
taken for ordinary.
Wounds and hardships provoke our
courage, and when our fortunes are at
the lowest, our wits and minds are com
monly at the best.
Yesterday—the natural source of his
tories. To-morrow—the mother of all
mysteries. To-day—a jewelled moment
set between.
The man whose thoughts, motives,
and aspirations and feelings are all de
voted to himself is the poorest of judges
as to the effect of his own action on
other men.
NO. 47.