VOL. LVI. BARTER, AUCTIONEER, 9 REBRRSBURG. PA. J C. SPRINGER, Fashionable Barber, Next Door to JOURNAL Store, MILLHKIH, PA. JJROCKERHOFF HOUSE, (Opposite Court House.) H. BROCKEHHOFF, Proprietor WM. MCKKKVZK, Manager. Good sample rooms on first floor. Free bus to and from all trains. Special rates to jurors and witnesses. Strictly First' Class. IRVIN HOUSE, (Mast Central Botl In tfe City J Corner MAIN and J.vY Streets, Lock Haven, Pa. s. WOODS CALWELL, Proprietor. Good Sample Rooms for Commercial Travelers on first floor. jJ) R - i>. H. MINGLE. Physician and Surgeon, MAIN Street, MILLHEIM, Pa. JOHN F. HARTER, PRACTICAL DENTIST, Office In 2d story of Tomlinson's Gro cery Store, On MAIN Street, MILIHEIM, Pa. Q F BLISTER. D* FASHIONABLE BOOT A SHOE .MAKER 9bop next door to Foote'a Store, Mam St., Boots, Shoes auJ Gaiters made to order, and sat isfactory trcrkgaarameoA Impairing done prompt ly and cheaply, and in a neat style. 8. R. PKXLE. H. A. MCKKE. PEALK Ac McKEE, ATTORNEYS AT LAW, Office opposite Court House, Bellefonte, Pa. C. T. Alexander. C. M. Bower. ATTORNEYS AT LAW. bRLLEFONTK, PA. Office in Uarman's new building. JOHN B. LINN, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BRLLEFONTE. PA. Office on Allegheny Street. QLEMEXT DALE, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLE Form, PA. Northwest corner of Diamond, e. UASTIX.S, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA. Office on Allegheny 9treet, 9 doors west of office formerly occupied by the late Arm of Yocurn A Hastings. M. C. HEINLE, ATTORNEY AT LA W, BELLEFONTE, PA. Practices in all the courts of Centre County. Spec &1 attention to Collections, Consultations in German or English. F. REEDER, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BELLEFONTE, PA. All business 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. -\y A. MORRISON, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA. Office on Woodrlng's Block, Opposite Court House. jQ S. KELLER, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA, Consultations in English or German. Offio# In Lyon 1 j Building, Allegheny Street. JOHN G. LOVE, * ATTORNEY AT LAW, & BELLEFONTE, PA. # office in the rooms formerly occupied By the tote w p Wilson. BABY AND I. Baby and I in the twilight sweet. Rearing the weary birds reieai Cheery good-nights fromtroe to tide, Deareat of all day's comfort see. For weary too, We ki*s and coo. He gives up all hie world - for ma Baby and 1 In the twilight's glow, Watching the branches to and fro Waving good, nights to the golden west, W elcouie the hour we love the beat. We rock and sing Till sleep we bring, Who folds him lu her downy neat Llngeriug still in the twilight gray, After the radiance fades away, 1 w ateh my darling, so still, ao fair, \\ nn thauhful heart that to my care, For happiness No words express. Awhile God trusts a gift so dear. As In his little bed 1 place My babe in all his slumbering grace, Reaien's starry lamps are lit ou high, One, angel- borne, now (lashes by. And by their light, Turough all the night. Celestial watchers will be nigh. CHARLOTTE'S SECRET. When Charlotte Caatleinayne was a school-girl of sixteen, she miule the great mistake of her life; a mistake which was to cause her unutterable sorrow and remorse. By nature Charlotte was intensely affectionate. She had heeu berett of both her parents while a mere child, and her guardian being a cold, rather reserved man of business, the girl had learned to keep back such demonstra tions as would have displeased liirn. At fourteen she was sent away to boarding-school. At sixteen she fell in love—or thought she did—with Cliff Dallas, her music-teacher, a man of thirty, who used all the art he was mas ter of to win the affection of this p.ia siouatc-lioarted girl, who he knew would come into possession of a hand some property in due time. It was au easy task to wiu her, starved for love as she was. His low, tender words and his caresses seemed a foretaste of heaven. By skillful manceuvering, he per suaded her into consenting to a secret marriage. Walking in the glamour of love, she doubted nothing, ft-ared nothing. Cliff' Dallas, with his dark eyes and mysterious smile, was a sort of god up on earth to the foolish girl who could ot look into the future. At seventeen, with vows of eternal x>ustaney, and many hot tears, she parted from her husband and returned home to her guardian. Dallas returned to England shortly After; but it was understood between them that when she should have at tained her majority, he would oome to claim his wife. Charlotte felt quite exalted and hero ic. She entered society with a feeling of superiority to all the giddy butter dies about hor- A pretty giri and an heiress could not be long without suitors; and Charlotte had her share; but one after another was refused, until Mr. Morlowe, her guardian, began to think it rather sing ular that not one cut of so many eligi ble young men had succeeded in win ning the approbation of his ward. In truth, Mr. Marlowe would not have ob jected to shifting the responsibility of a lovely youg lady and her property from bis shoulders to those of a suita ble husband. Meanwhile, Cliarfotte had kept up a correspondence with Cliff Dallas, and once, l>eing iu America for a few months, he had called on her frequently, a fact which excited no comment, as he was known to have been her music teacher while at Madame F 's seminary. It was soon after Dallas' 9 seoond re turn to England that Chailotte met Charlie St. Omar. Charlotte was then about twenty, and St. Omar eight years her senior. Until now she had never faltered from hei old allegiance. Until now no man had seemed to her for a moment to be compared to Cliff' Dallas. But as her acquaintance with this young fellow ripened, he grew into her heart un awares. There was something so true and loyal and manly about him—some thing so unlike the conventional society dandy—that she admired him in spite of himself. And when rumor began to couple his name with bars, she shrank snd trem bled and. wept in the solitude of her chamber, remembering that she was the wedded wile of another man. Then came the news of the loss of an ocean steamer, with the Dame of Cliff Dallas on her passenger-list. Charlotte read the newspaper ac oounts of the disaster with a terrible eagerness. Undoubtedly Dallas bad been on liis way to claim lier. It want ed but a month or tw o of her twenty first birthday. Now Providence had freed her from the bond which she eould only think of with loathing. Almost at the same time Charlie St. Omar made her an offer of marriage, and she begged for a few days in which to consider the matter. Then a great temptalion came to Charlotte. She loved St. Omar, truly fondly, and deeply—a feeling utterly unlike the blind, senseless, school-girl passion which she hail entertained for Cliff Dallas, Dallas was dead; their MILLIIEIM. PA., THURSDAY, JANUARY 5,1882. marriage had been private: why need she toll Charlie of that old affair? Per haps he would not love her if he knew all. She could not lose hiiu. She would put the past behind her, und live only in the present. Accordingly, when he came for his answer, she went straight to him, with luminous, wistful dark eyes, and olaap<<d her slender hands about the tall brown head and drew it down on a level with her own. "Do>r, will you love mo always the same?" she querried. For all answer he held her close, and kissed, with the ardor of a young lover, the girl's shining black tresses, her questioning eyes, and her red mouth. "Oau anything come between us, Charlie?" she pei-MisUsl. "Only another lover, aweeetheart," he said, laughing in sheer light-heart edneas. The shadow of a cloud passed over her face at his words as she recalled that other lover, but he was dead. No doubt of that. Cliff Dallua had uo power to trouble thein. "What is it deur V" said Charlie, as he noted the change in her counte nance. "I suppose I ought to tell you," she began hurriodiy, with averted eyes.— "When I was at boarding-school, I—'' Charlie laughed, and kissed the words off Her quivering lips. "Never mind, Charlotte. 111 over look all the love-affairs you had while at boarding-school, for I fancy that mv own record of those days is not quite clear." So Charlotte weakly allowed Herself to be bileneed; and Charlie, thinking that she referred to some giilish tlirta tiou, deal to the hearts of boardiug school misses, gave the mutter no fur ther attention. In the following September they were married; then followed two months of unalloyed happiness. For Charlotte put all unpleasant memories aside, and devoted heiselt to her young husband whe loved her so tenderly. Every day she became more assured of his goodness and nianliuess. Strong he wus, and brave, and grand hearted, yet as gentle, as ay in path ic, as delicate as a woman in his feel ings. After the bridal tour they settled down in the old St. Omar mansion, which stood in the suburbs of the town. It was a dreary Novemler day and Charlie hail gone into town, leaving his young wife alone. The rain beat drearily on the win dows and an east wiua sobbed in a fit ful way about the oorners and down the ohimney. A feeling of gloom and nervousness crept iuto Mrs. St. Omar's heart; a feeling which she vainly endeavored to throw off. Shadows were beginning to gather in the long drawing-room where Charlotte paced to and fro, listening for the sound of her husband's step at the door. A tiny bronze clock on a corner bracket struck two silvery notes. "Half-past four!" sighed Chailotto impatiently, as she threw herself down npon a sofa and leaned her head upon one arm. Presently a loud peal of the door bell startled the echoes in the great 'rout hall, and, after some delay, an uu impressible-lookiug footman in livery brought in, upon a litt.e silver tray a note for his mistress. At the sight of the address upon the envelope, Charlotte's heart gave a great throb, She had bare strength to motion the servant from the room; and, left alone, she sank shivering into one of the velvet-covered chairs, and started at the innocent-looking missive as if it had been a ghost. When, at last, she gained courage to open it, she read these words: "MRS. ST. OMAR.— Dnnbt lean this note will be a surprise to you, an l*was huipovl to have perish-, ed with the other pesaengers of the ill-fated Claudia lou will uot be interested to read in detail how I was saved and think of calling upon you. It is not, however, my intention to claim you as my wife; for you may as well know that ours was a mock marriage, and I had a wife in England at the tune It was performed. * Therefore you are trulv wedded to the mau whose name pou now bear. Hut the fact jg, my dear madam, I must have money. \ ou ma y nave notes or Jewels to the a iuount of fl 7e hundred pounds in readiness for me whe nI C U to morrow at hree o'clock, or make up your m -nd that your huabau Ishali know the wolbeatory of our intlmsov. ,4 C utr DALLNB." The calmness of desperation settled down upou her as she read th s dread ful note through to the end. • The footman brought her a second note—this time from Char le, who wrote that he should be detained in the city, and advised her not to wait dinner for him. "James," she said quietly, "dinner need not be served. Your master will uot return until late, and I will have u cup of coffee in my own room. ' She went up the grand staircase, her long, rich robes trailing heavily behind her, and hor hands olasped tightly one within the other. A maid brought the requested cup of coffee, and then she was onoe more alone. Seating herself at the writing desk, she penned a long, sorrowful, tear- I stained letter to St. Omar, confessing all that bad hitherto been withheld from him. but assuring him solemnly that she had believed herself truly wedded to Dallas, just as much us site had believed Dallas dead when she married him (St. Omar). 8h enclosed Cliff Dallas's note fer him to read, aud, realizing all her shame and disgrace, she was going away where Charlie would l>e troubled uo more by the sight of her. Hastily folding arul sealing this, she laid it upon hei hurbond's dressing table, and, changing her dimmr toilet for a shorter and more serviceable dress, she wrapjted herself in a long cloak and stole unobserved from the house. There was anguish and despair in her heart as she paused for one mo ment ou the threshold l>efore stepping out into the storm.' All the folly of her girlish blunder arose before her, and taunted her with the uioiuorj of what might have been. Withiu were home, and love, and warmth, and oorafort. Without, ttorin and darkness, a c >ld and cruel world of which she had uo practical knowl edge. She ran down the steps straglit into the arms of Charlie, who wus coming up. He held her close, N and she screamed: "Charlie, Charlin— save me!" "Wake up. little wife! What are you dreaming about?" Charlotte started to her feet. The stately drawing-room was filled with gloom. By the sofa, whereon she had fallen asleep, stood Charlie, his hand some face close to hers, and bis Honest eyes of tenderness. It was a uream, then; nothing but a dream. Dallas was not alive, Charlie was there beside her. She burst iuto a passion of tears which nearly frightened Charlie out of his wits. But the dream opened Charlotte's eyes to her own weak deception, and, drawing her husband down ou the sofa beside her, she told lum of that old se cret, and of her reason for keeping it from lifm; and received finally his fnll forgiviness for all. No ghost of Cliff Dallas lias arisen to disturb them, aud Mrs. St. Omar is the proud and happy mother of two lovely, daik-eyed boys. Hor** n'.u. The use of horse flesh is decidedly ex tensive in Germany, and is growing. A very careful supervision is exercised over the trade iu Berlin. The inspec tor had a list of the stables where the existonoe of any contagious disease has bus been reported, and if he finds that the animal brought before him oomea from any of these, a prosecution against the seller is at onoe instituted. Should the horse be found by the veterinary surgeons to be sufloring from any dhease not contagious, it is at once killed; but the booy is sent to the Zoo logical Gardens. The Berlin butcher pays about $10,50 for a piece of horse flesh weighing from 250 to 300 pounds, but he retails it at 10 cents a pound for the filet, 6$ cents per pound for other pieces, and 5 cents for parts ouly fit to be made into sausages; und, as horse flesh is naturally very dry, a good deal of it can be converted into sausages, which, it may be added, are, it is shrewdly suspected, largely consumed by persons who are little aware of what they aie eating. In one or two other German towns the consumption of horse lleuli is in proportion to tin ir population, even larger than in Berlin. In Breslau, for instance, a town with 250 000 in habitants, 2000 horses are killed an nually for the market; aud in Altona, with a population of 100,000, the num ber reaches 1500. In the western pro vinces, on the other hand, horseflesh is more rarely eateu even in the more densely peopled towns—the aver age number of horses killed annually in Dorthmuud being only 240, and in Bielefeld about 100. Jiat Popped Out. An eooentric barber opened a shop under the walls of the king's bench pris on. Two windows being broken when he entered it, he mended them with pa per, on which appeared "Shave for a penny," with the usual invitation to customers, and over the door were scrawled these lines. "Here lives Jem my Wright. Shaves as well as any man in England—almost—not quite." Footo, the great actor, who loved everything ecoentrio, saw these inscriptions, and hoping to extract some fun from the author, whom he justly concluded to be an odd character, he pulled off his hat, and thrusting his head through a paper pane into the shop, called out. "Is Jemmy Wright at home? The foroed his own head through another pane into the street, and replied "No sir; he has just popped out." Foote laughed heartily and gave the man a guinea. NOTHING IS better to cleau silver with than alcohol and ammonia. After rub bing with this take a little whitiug on a soft cloth and polish in this way. Ever, frosted silver, which i 9 so difficult, to clean, may be easily made clear and bright. —Green county in Texas has two mil ieus acres of unappropriated laud. II Th* Dead Sea. Rev. Dr. Cuyler, writes thus of the Dead sea: our afternoon's march over the bleak treeless and brown mountains of the wilderae9 was inexpressibly tiresome until we came in sight of the Dead sea. It lay 2,000 feet below us a mirror of silver, set among the violet mountains of Moab. Precipitous descents over rooks and sand brought us, by sun down, to the two towers of the most unique monastery of the globe. The famous convent of Mar Saba is worth u journey to Palestine. For thirteen cen turies that wonderful structure has hung against the walls of the deep, awful gorge of the Kidrou. It is a colossal swallows' nest of stone, built to the height of 300 feet against the precipice, and inhabited by sixty monks of the Greek church—genuine Mauicheans aud followers of St. Saba and St. John of Damascus. No wo man's foot has ever entered the con vent's walls! Instead of woman's so ciety they make love to the birds, who oome and 'eed off the monks' hands. Every evening they toss meat down to the wild jaekuls in the gorge below. At suuset I climbed over the extraor dinary building—was shown into the rather h&udt-oine church, and into the chapel or cave of St. Nicholas, wliich contains the gnastly skulls of the monks who were slaughtered by Chosroes and his Persian soldiers—and gazed down iuto the awful ravine beneath the con vent walls. Some monks in black gowns were perched as watchman on the lofty towers; others wondered over the stone pavements in a sort of aimless vacuity. What au attempt to live in au exhaust ed receiver! The monks gave us hospitable wel come, sold us eauea and woodwork, and furnished us lodgings on the divans of two large stone parlors. One of the re ligious duties of the brotherhood is to keep vigils, and through the night bells were riugiug aud olanging to call them to their religious devotions. The ver min in the lodging-rooms have learned to keep up their vigils also; and as the result our party —with one exception— hail a sleepless night. I have such a talent for sleeping, and like Pat "pay attention to it" so closely that I was able to defy even the fleas and mos quitoes of Mar Saba. By daylight the uext morning we heard the great iron door of the convent clang behind us like the gate of Bunyan's "Doubting Castle," and for five hours we made a toilsome descent of the desolate cliffs to the shore of the Dead sea. That much maligned sea has a weird and wonderful beauty. We took a bath in its 0001, clear watera, and detected no difference from a bath at Coney Island except that the water has such density that we floated on it like pine shingles. No flsh from the salt ocean can live in if; but it is very attractive to the eye on a hot noonday. A scorching ride we had across the the barren plain to the B acred Jordan—which disappointed me sadly. At the place where the Israe lites crossed and our Lord was baptised it is about 120 feet wide; it flows rapid ly and in a turbid current ol light stone color. In size and appearance it is a perfect counterpart of the Muskingum a few miles above Zanesville. Its useless waters ought to be turned off to irri gate its barren valleys which might be changed into a garden. For beauty the Jordan will not compare with Elijah's Brook Cherith, whoso bright, sparkling stream went flowing past our lodging plaoeat Jeriolio. We lodged over night iu a Greek convent (very small), and rode next morning to see the ruins of the town made famous by Joshua, Elijah, Zaccheus, and the restoration of Bartimeus to sight. Squalid Arabs haunt the sacred spot. A Pigeon Isn't A Chicken. There are excellent chickens In Carrara, and but for the haste with which they are brought from the hen-coop to the table they would be very good food. Looking eut of the hotel window into tne back-yard one sees a hen busily engaged with a basin of mush. Almost in a moment, in the twink ling of an eye, the living hen is transformed into a roasted fowl. This may seem fanci ful and unreal, but it is strictly true. Due day having a very limited time in which to eat a lunch and catch a train for Leghorn, I asaed the waiter of one of our hotels if lie could give me a bit of broiled chicken at short notice. "1 am very sorry, sir,'' said he, "but we havn't a cbickeu in the house. However, we have a very nice pigeon. How would you like half a pigeon ?" "Very well, indeed," I replied, "but can you give it to me quickly f" "Yes, sir, you shall have him in pre cisely twenty minut< s by the clock." "A good pigeon, young, tender and plump, is he ?" I 'bte for yourself, sir," and with that the waiter led the way to the kitchen, "show the gentleman that pigeon, cook," said the waiter. The cook gravely picked up a broom stick and began punching under the table, and .o! there came forth my pigeon, in the act cf hastily swallowing a bit of bread which he had snatched from his feed box before fleeing from the cook's broomstick. See what the waiter had promised to del He bad promised to kill the dove, pluck him, clean him in a cursory way and roast him, all in the short space of twenty minutes. A pigeon isn't a chicken, but if it had been a chicken, the story would have been the game. Th Art of Ma lln . "What is your idea of a good dinner?" was recently asked of Delmonioo, the great caterer in New York. "Do you ask me as a caterer or a dinner? "Both." "As a caterer, I answer the one that gives the most satisfaction to those to whom it is served and returns the best proffta; as a dinner, the best is that which gratifies the taste, satisfies the de mauds of hunger, tickles the appetite and completes its courses just at the time the person eating feels himself uo longer hungry and begins to wonder *i>y, because he does not remember to have eaten anything." "Can you accomplish that blissful condition of things for yourself? "Sometimes; but not always. Wis dom in feeding I notice, is rare, and flesh is weak. One either gets too much wine at the start or commits some such folly as taking a driuk of brandy and soda or a cocktail before he begins, and then he will find it no end of trouble to balance his stomach." "If wisdom of this kind is rare, perhaps you oan tell me the names of some of the few people who are really wise?" "That's pretty bard. There'■ Uncle Sam Word. He's a good and sensible eater, hut inclined to take food too highly flavored. He'll get gouty, may tie." "A mo. g the pelitiouns, who eat well?" "Let me see. I can't recall many right off the reel. There's Evarts. He eats a good deal, and eats good food, and knows it. Among local politicians Hubert O. Thompson, now Commis sioner of Public Works, is the best. I don't know but what he is the most artistic epicure in New York. I have often admired Charles Brooke's orders. By the way, he is a Philadelphia!!, and perhaps has a tendency to chicken croquettes, born of a taste created by Augustine, that should be restraighten ed. He is a terrapin connoisseur. Tilden, Uncle Sammy, knows what is good, and the way he orders the first in season indicates how he keeps trace of the times when new things are due. Ex-Governor Jewell, of Hartford, is a delicate and careful feeder. The New Euglauders, as a rule, do not excel in gastronomy. They onieY things out of season and generally hash up their food. Let mo see, you were asking about poli ticians. Ben. Butler, he is a splendid exception to the average Yankee, and so, too, is General Hooker, who is Secretary of the Republican National committee. He oomea from Vermont, und although he rarely makes a good balance of the kind of wine he drinks, ho gets the right kind. Governor Cornell I don't know anything about. Governor Hoyt? Yes; he's a big man with chin whiskers. I rarely see him, but he cau order just what he wants, and he knows just how good it is. Then there's Don Cameron, who is a comforta ble but not a really good orderer. Wayne MacVeagh knows how to order a taste ful dinner. Bob Garrett, Vice Presi dent of the Baltimore&Ohio railroad, is clever that way, and gets a dinner party very happy in a little while." "Theatrical poople good feeders?" "None worse, if I except John Mc Cullough and some of the ladies whoee provender is ordered by some Now York escort who knows what she ought to eat and has money, neither of which things she has." "Isn't Daly a dainty feeder?" "I really don't know. Sheridan Shook is a hearty one, John Duff is a hearty eater and strong drinker. He washes everything down with oliampagne-Pom mory Sec. John McCaulf is a great fel low tor terrapin. HaverLy rarely comes in here. Maplcson comes often, eats well aud drinks well. By the way, Thur low Weed knows a thing or two about what is good; so does Peter Cooper. Horace Greely was an idiot about food, bat he came here often. Old Judge Packer, now dead, was a discriminating man over food and wine," "How about that women?" "They never know, or at least only a few of them. Bernhardt had no idea what to put in her stomach. Gerster always wanted garlicky and onion seasoned dishes. Kellogg eats oysters and terrapin. As a rule, ladies who come here to lunch eat salads. Men always order better and more carefully bin women. The Western people are about the same kind of feeders the Yan kees are. The Southerners go for any dish that is tried, and beoome dyspeptic in haste. The people of the Middle States arc the best dinners. English men get the best breakfasts. French men are the best wine-drinkers and judges of wine, and foreigners generally know more about eating and drinking than Americans. Taken full and large, the Baltimoreans who visit here, are the most tasteful eaters, the Philadelphians the most dainty, the Chicago guests the most, hearty, the Bostonian the most critical, the native Knickerbocker the moat sensible. NEVER iron a cabco dress on the righ* side. If ironed smoothly on the wrong side there will lie no danger of white spots and glass, which gives the D©W dress, done up for the first time, the appearance of a time- wota garment. "Ain't You too Low?" One night the cur be tone astronomer was standing by his instrument waiting for a customer. Presently two miners cuine along and paused to take a look at the machine. "Wnat in thunder's that?" asked one of the miners. "It is a telescope," said the student of the stars. 0 "You see Venus for tea cents." "Consider me in," said the miner, and he put up ten cents and turned the tube on a constellation of the fourth ascension. "Don't think much of it," he said after a look, and then turned the in strument down until it was focossed on a private residence some nine blocks away. Here the miner paused, pressed his eye close to the instrument and be came as still as a mouse. "Ain't you too low?" asked the planet sharp. "I allers was low sighted," responded the man of the pick. "You can't look all night; other custo mers waiting. The miner surveyed the crowd stand ing about him, and handing the show man a dollar, asked him to tell him when he had used up the money. He lower ed his eye to the telescope oDoe more and was again engrossed in his observa tions. Suddenly he rose up with a sigh, and remarked to his companion: "Billy, she pulled the curtain down. The handsomest woman I ever saw in all my life. She let down her hair, took off* her collar, and then, just as I gave that coon a dollar, she lowered the curtain and shut the blinds, i think I ought to have alout ninety cents change. That old brass tube, though, is about 100-hoss power. It was like being right under the window with a step ladder. I'm going to buy one of those machines the firt time I make a raise."— Be—ls. The incompleteness of a national reform is always proportioned to its violence, and a few favorite abuse* are wont to linger long after the rest have vanished. More especially is this the case with Russia. Nine tenths of the abuses swept away by the great tide of reform tha' flowed un checked from 1861 to 1870 affected not the bulk of the Russian people, but merely the limited section of it compressed into the large towns. The popular belief thai the Czur's decree of February, 1851, turned 28,000,000 slaves into freemen is a griev ous error. Alt thai it did was to substitute for the capricious tyranny of a master the organized tyranny of a system. In some respects, no doubt, the Russian "moujik" has profited by the change. He can no ionger be scourged, tortured or killed with impunity. His term of military service has been vastly abridged and lightened, and he has become, to some extent at least, a land holder and a citizen. But he is as far from being free as in the savage old days when Russia was a wilderness in Tested with certain beasts of prey called nobles, who alternated between tearing each other and devouring the beasts of burden called peasants. He has been o.hangtd from a well-fed slave to a half • starved freeman. Though no longer rooted like a tree to the soil on which he was born, he is so hampered by official re strictions on one side and adverse circum stances on the other as to have practically just as little freedom of actiou as ever. Thanks to his ill judged haste in borrowing money to purchase land, his ignorance of fanning and his utter want of thrift, he has passed from the power of a master, whose interest it was to take good care of hiui, only to fall into that of a rapacious usurer, whose interest it is to suck his Mood to the last drop. In a word, his so called "liberty" is merely that of a convict, who has been allowed the run of the pris on court-yard. Such are Lhe couditions under which 49, - 000,000 Russ ! ans—2B,ooo.ooo freed serfs and 26,000,000 free peasants—are now liv- • ing and have been living for years. Nat urally sluggish and.fstalislic, and hindered from seeking better fortune elsewhere, the moujik makes no effort to devise a remedy for his troubles, but vegetates on his un productive land in a state of helpless resig nation, without fear and without hope. Moreover, to the evils of compulsory resi dence are not unfrequently added those of compulsory migration. It is the greatest curse of despotism that, while resisting all moderate and rational changes, it is sub ject to a porioaic&l mania for enforcing other changes of the most violent and ab normal kind, as if to assert its own superi ority over the very laws of nature. When any district of the Russian empire seems toe thinly peoDled its rulers meet the diffi culty by simply decanting so many souls from one province to another, wholly ig noring such trifles as difference of soil and climate, insufficient transport, physical weakness or want of supplies. Any trav eler w ho has encountered one of these dis mal caravans on the great plains of Siberia or Central Asia will not easily forget the sight. Men plodding through the burning sand with bare and bleeding feet; haggard, fever-stricken women tossing restlessly among the sacks and chests of an unshel tered wagon, beneath a verncalsun; half clad children, their eyes red and swollen from want of sleep, their lips cracked and blistered with thirst, their poor little faces black with dust and flies, looking wistfully up as if wondering why no one tried to help and comfort them; worn-out suffer ers dropping down on the march to die and be buried in the drifting sand, only to be dragged forth again and torn piece meal by vultures almost before their comrades are out of sight, and all these horrors go ing on day after day. and week after week through a journey of several thousand miles. TUB man who is asked to guess at a lady 's age, and doesn't guess several years less than he believes to be exact, is making an enemy, and doing truth no good. "THAT is a good war steed" said a livery stable keeper to a customer, pointing to a mangy looking animaL 'Why so V Because he'd sooner die than run." NO. 1.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers