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.