VOL. LVI.
HAUTER,
AUCTIONEER,
REBERSBURG. PA.
J C. SPRINGER.
Fashionable Barber,
Next Door to JOURNAL Store,
MILLHKIH, PA.
JgROCKKRHOFF HOUSE,
(Opposite Court House.)
H. BROCKERHOFP, Proprietor.
WEI. MCKKKVKK, Manager.
Go>d sample rooms on first floor.
Free bus to and from all traius.
Special rates to Jurors and witnesses.
Strictly First Class.
IRVIN HOUSE.
(Most Ceutral Hotel In the City,)
Corner MAIN and JAY Streets,
Lock Ilavea, Fa.
S. WOODS CALWELL, Proprietor.
Good Sample Rooms for Commercial
Travelers on first floor.
D. H. MINGLE,
Physician and Surgeon,
MAIN Street, MILLHKIH, Pa.
JOHN F. HARTER,
PRACTICAL DENTIST,
Office iu 2d story ot Tomliuson'a Gro
cery Store,
On MAIN Street, MILI.HKIM, Pa.
Br KINTER.
• FASHIONABLE BOOT A SHOE MAKER
Shop next door to Foote's Store, Main St.,
Boots, Shoes and Gaiters made to order, and sat
isfactory work guaranteed. Repairing done prompt
ly and cheaply, and In a neat style.
S. K. PEALE. H. A. MCKKK.
PEALE & >IeK KE,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
Office opposite Court House, Bellefonte, Pa.
C. T. Alexander. C. M. Bower.
ATTORNEYS AT LAW.
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Office in Carman's new building.
JOHN B. LINN,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Office on Allegheny Street.
OLEMENT DALE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Northwest corner of Diamond.
JJ H. HASTINGS,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Office on Allegheny Street, 2 doors west of oflloe
formerly occupied by the late Arm of Yocum A
bastings.
C. HEINLE,
ATTORNEY AT LA W.
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Practices in all the courts of Centre County.
Spec al attention to Collections. Consultations
In German or English.
F. REEDER,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BELLEFONTE, PA.
All bus'ness promptly attended to. Collection
of claims a speciality.
J.~A7 Beaver. J W. Gephart.
ATTORNEYS AT LAW.
BELLEFONTE, PA.
* *
Office on Alleghany Street, North of High.
yjy A. MORRISON,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BELLEFONTE, PA
Office on Woodrlng's Block, opposite Court
House.
S. KELLER,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BELLEFONTE, PA
Consultations in English or German. Office
In Lyon'o Building, Allegheny Street.
JOHN G. LOVE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
O BELLEFONTE, PA 0
Office In the rooms formerly occupied by the
late w. P. Wilson
lie pilileittt Simtmtl
DREAM KD OF HOME.
He dreamed of home—aye, while the clew
Of life so thlu and straightened drew,
A breath might aever it in two!
He dreamed of home; amid the press
Of those old shadows death doth dreaa
lu mist, and oold and heaviness,—
He dreamed of home! Sweet In his car
The sound of rustling graiu-flehla uear,
The orchard oriole's fluted cheer.
lie fore his dim and lidded aye
The lake's crisp billow flickered high
On azure deeper than the sky.
Slipped thence from all uproar and striie
Once more the looks of child and wite
Shone as the lamps of household lite
He dreamed of home! The vlsiou flew,
Wavered, reshaped itself anew,
Sunled, spake, as visions never do;
Still wide of home he saw, instead,
Its angel Staudiiig by his tied,
I ushaken in the hour of dread.
THE WEAVER OF RAVELUK.
It was fifteen years since Silas Mar
uer hafi first come to Raveloe, and at the
end of fifteen years Raveloe tucn said
just the same things about him as at
the begining. He was subject to rata
lepsy and to the villagers there was
something mysterious in these fits, as a
fit was a stroke, and it was not in the
nature of a stroke to let a man stand on
his legs like a horse in the shafts and
then walk off as soon as yon can say
•Gee."
So had his way of life mysterious
peculiarities. He invited no comer to
step across his door sill, and he never
strolled into the village to drink a pint
at the Rainbow, and he sought no man
or woman, saye for the pnapose of his
calling, or to supply himself with the
necessaries of life.
He had knowledge of herbs —and
charms too, the}* thought—ami perhaps
he was possessed of au evil spirit, so it
was partly to this vague fear that Mar -
uer was indebted for protecting him from
persecution, and still more that, as linen
weaver, his handicraft made him a high
ly welcome settler to the rich house
wives of the district. There was only
one important addition which ihe years
brought; it was that Master Marner had
laid by a fine sum of money some
where.
His life had reduced itself to the
mere functions of weaving and board
ing. But about Christmas of that
fifteen year, a great change came over
Marm r's life, and his history became
blended in a singular manner with the
life of his neighbors.
The greatest man in Raveloe was
'Squire Cass. One of his two sous.
Dustau, the second, the neighl>ors said
it was no matter what became cf him
—a spiteful, jeering fellow, whose taste
for driving, betting and swapping
might turn him out to be a sower of
something worse than wild oats.
But it would be a pity that Godfrey,
the eldest, a fine, well bred, good na
tured young man should take the same
road as his brother, which he seemed
inclined to do of late.
Godfrey was in Dustan's power, as he
had secretly married a coarse beauty,
whose love of drink had made her an
unfit companion for any one, and he
lived in fear of his father learning the
dreadful secret and turning him adrift,
so Dustan made constant demands on
hiin for hush money. Driven to des
peration by his profligate brother, he
had given him permission to sell his
favorite horse if he would make no more
demands upon him.
Bo Dustau rode the horse to the races
and before he had a chance to sell, killed
the horse and went from the grounds in
a drunken, penniless state
As he was plodding home through the
dark he saw a light in Maimer's house.
He knocked but no one answered and
on stepping in he found it vacant.
Where could he be, leaving his sup
per cooking and the door unfastened.
It was a dark rainy night, and perhaps
he had gone out for fuel and fallen into
the stone pits.
That was an interesting idea to Dus
tan. If the weaver was dead, who
had a right to his money? Who would
know where his mouey was hidden?
Who would know that anybody had
come to take the money away?
He saw a place near the loom where
the sand had finger marks. He darted
to it, lifted the bricks, and found two
leathern bags. He immediately left the
house with the bags. The rain and
darkness had got thicker, but he was
heartily glad of it.
Si'as-came sooner after, and after get
ting warm he thought he would put his
beloved guineas on the table before
him, as it would be pleasant to see
them as he ate his unwonted feast.
For joy is the best of wine, and Silas'
guineas were a golden wine of that
sorb.
The sight of the empty hole made
his heart leap, but the belief that his
gold was gone could not come at once.
He had put his gold somewhere else and
then forgotten it. He turned his bed
over and looked in the brick oven.
He felt once more all around the hole.
He could see every object in his cottage
- and his gold was not there. He put
his hands to his head and gave a wild,
ringing scream, the cry of desolation.
The cry had relieved him from the first
maddening pressuje.
He tottered toward his loom, and got
into the seat where he worked, instinc
MILLHEIM. PA.. THURSDAY, JANUARY 19,1882.
tivelv seekiug this as the strongest
assurance of reality.
The idea of a thief began to present
itself. He started from the loom to the
door. He rushed out in the ruin and
wade his way to the inn. Theee Silas
told his story, under frequent question
ing as the character of the robbery be
eame evident.
The slight suspicion of Ids hearers
molted away before the simplicity of his
distress.
Dustan Cass had never been heard
from, and on New Year's eve Squire
Cass gave a large party. That night
Godfrey's wife was walking with slow,
uncertain steps through the snow
covered lanes of Kaveloo, carrying her
child in her arms.
Soon she felt numb with cold and fa
tigue and then nothing but a supreme
immediate longing to lie down ami
sleep. The complete torpor came at
last; then lingers lost their tension, the
arms nnbont; then the little head fell
away from the bosom, and the blue
eyes opened wide on the Cold starlight.
Suddenly its eyes were caught by a
bright gleaming light on the white
ground: in au instant the child had
slipped on all fours and held out one
little hand to catch the gleam. But
the gleam conld not be caught, and the
head was held up to see where the cun
ning gleam came from. It came from a
very blight place; and the little one
rising on its legs went on to the open
door of Silas Maimer's cottage, and
right up to the warm hearth where
Silas' coat lay on the bricks to dry.
The little one squatted down ou the
coat, presently the warmth had a lulling
effect, and the little golden head sank
down on the old coat asleep. But where
was Silas Maimer? He was in the cot
tage. but he difl not see the child. He
had gone to the door to look out, and
put his right hand on the latch of the
door to close it—but he did not close it,
he was arr sted by the invisible baud of
catalepsy, and stood with wide but
sightless eves holding upon his door,
powerless to resist the good or evil that
might enter.
When Mamor's sensibility returned,
be elosed the door, and turned towards
the hearth, wlere, to bis lurid vision,
it teemed as if there were gold on
the floor in front of the hearth.
Gold?—his own gold—brought back
as mysteriously as it had boon taken
away.
He leaned forward at last and stretch
ed forth his hand, but instead of the
hard coin, his lingers encountered soft,
warm curls. Could this be his little sis
ter come back to him in a dream? He
had a dreamy feeling that this child was
somehow a message come to hnn from
far off life. But there was a cry on the
hearth, and Silas fed and soothed it.
He found it had 011 wet shoes, which
suggested to him that she must have
come from out doors; so he raised the
child, and went to the door and the
little one cried out mammy. Bending
forward he could just discern marks
made by the little feet, and he followed
their track to the furze bush, and there
he found a human body, with the head
sunk low in the furze, and half covered
with the shaken snow. Silas knew that
all the town was at the grand party at
the squire's, so he carried the little one
there in search of the doctor. The
doctor, Godfrey, and a few others, go to
the stoue pits, and there find that the
woman is past help—dead. They urg
ed Silas to part with the child, but ho
presses it to him, and says:
"No, 110! I can't part with it, It's
come to me —I've a right to keep it."
It was a bright autumn Sunday, six
teen years ufter Silas Marner had found
his treasure 011 the hearth.
The l>ells of the old Raveloe church
were riuging the clieeriul peal which
told the morning service was ended.
He called her Eppie for his sister, and
that morning, as they walked home to
gether, in low, murmuring tones Eppie
talked to him.
"Father, if I was to be married, ought
I to be married with mother's ring?"
"Why, Eppie, have you been thinking
on it?"
"Only this last week, father," said
Eppie, ingeniously, "since Aaron talked
to me about it."
"And what did he say?" said Silas.
"He said he should like to be married,
because he was going on four-and-twen
ty, and had got a good deal of gaaden
ing work, now Mr, Mott's given up."
"And who is it as he's wanting to
morry?" said Silas with rather a sad
smile.
"Why, me, to be sure, daddy," said
Eppie, with dimpling laughter, kissing
her father's cheek; "as if he'd wanted to
marry anybody else."
"You mean to have him, do you?"
said Silas.
"Yes, some time," said Eppie, "I
don't know when."
"Everybody's married some time,"
Aaron says.
"But I told him that wasn't true, for
I said; Look at father—he's never been
married."
"My child," said Silas, "your father
was a lone man till you was sent him."
"But you will never be a lone man
again, father," said Eppie, tenderly:
"that is what Aaron said."
away from Master Marner, Eppie."
"And," I said, "it 'ud be of no use if
you did, Aaron, and he wants lis all to
live together, as yon needn't work, and
he'd be as good as a son to you. But I
don't want any change. Only Aaron
does want a change, and lie made me
cry a bit - because he said 1 didn't cure
for him, for if 1 cared for him I should
want us to married, as he did."
"Oh, my blessed child," said Silas.
"You are o'er young to be married.
But 1 shall get older and helpless, and
1 should like to have you marry some-
Ixnly else besides me somebody young
and strong, as 'ud take care o' you to
the end."
"Then you would like me to be mar
ried, father?"
"1 1) not be the man to say no, Eppie.
but will ask your god-mother. She'd
wish the right thing by you and her
son too."
And the god-mother wished it.
In drainiug the lands the stone pits
were drained dry and the skeleton of
Dustan Cass was found and all of Silas
Maimer's gold, £265. So Aaron slid
Eppie enlarged their garden, and made
happy their home, as they did not wish
to leave the stone pita, and Eppie's own
words tell the story of their united hap
py life.
"Oh, father, what a happy home ours
is! I think nobody could be happier
than we.
ArwlitHU 11 it mm.
It is a question what sort of a horse
Noah took with him iuto the ark, and
where the horse went to after the disembark
ation. Tradition states that the first horse
trainer was Ishmael, after J he was turned
out of his lather's teuU lie is said to have
captured a wild horse, and from her is de
scended a special strain of blood, known as
Benal el Ahwaj, the oldest known breed,
and all the Arabian breeds are but ramifi
cations of the original stock, particularly
the flue choice breeds known as thorough
breds, or pure-blooded, by the Bedouins of
the desert. It is probable that the home
of the Arabian horse was in Northern Ara
bia, on the borders of the
where there is more water on the surface
of the ground than in Southern Arabia.
The pure Arabiau horse is from fourteen
to fifteen hands high lie has a large head,
a large eye, an arched neck, and is of a
mild disposition, aud of unusual intelli
gence. Compared with other horses he is
perfectly tractable. For his size, his
speed is great, and his jumping or leapimr
powers are remarkable, lie is a good
walker and a good runner. The liedouins
do not teach th*ir home* to trot, neither
do they train race horses. They themsel
ves are bold riders for short distances,
throwing spears, knive-Javeluis, and exer
cising themselves in strange feats of horse
manship, impossible for any but them
selves. Travelers will remember the
equestrian feats of the Jordan Valley
guides who are usually Bedouin Sheiks, and
who take great care ol their horses. Train
ing commcnc s when the colt is young.
Tue Medians know nothing about breaking
a horse, and their belief is thai unless a
horse has done good service before he is
three years old he will never be worth
anything. There are nve recognized strains
of Arabian horses, all equally or nearly
equally pure and valuable. Written pedi
grees are not knowj, but by tradition the
jwdigree is preserved tor generations,
descent being reckoned through the duin
only. The pure Arab hcrse commands a
high price, the mare a still higher price.
Aud if sold the first loal is considered the
property of the seller. A friend of the
writer, an Arab, owns the one fifth part of
apureuiare, for which he paid 60 Napo
leons. It is a lieautiful animal in mixed
blood the size and the sha|>e of the head
follows the least beautiful type of the an
cestors, as in the bpauish horses of the
present day. The English thorough
bred (so called) is not a pure Arab horse.
The ear ot the Arabian horse is small and
beautifully shaped; the neck is light; the
shoulder good and the forearm very strong.
The hind quarters are narrow indicating
speed rather than strength. The legs are
stroug, less bone and nioie back sinew thrn
in American horses. The pastern joints
are long and fine—too long for strength—
aud the long pastern causes the horse to
trip even on level ground. I had last year
the oiler ot a beautiful Arab horse and at
a reasonable price. He was the fastest
walker I have ever seen ki Palestine, but
he tripped and moved badly on the down
hill grade. I did not purchase him, being
afraid that he might stumble. The best
gait of the Arab horse is galloping or run
uing, but 1 doubt not that by training gtxnl
shoulder action could be obtained. The
Arab borse has good wind, great powers of
of endurance and he will bear any amount
of training He is fearless, aud hence
safe. In this respect he is very different
from the northern horses of the Turks.
The colors are various: gray, white, brown,
black and bay. The bay is said to be the
best; the black is rare; the best horses
1 have seen in Arabia are gray. For the
pedigree or familyjof a horse the Bedouin
looks at the head, whers it is said signs of
parentage are seen. A very irood horse,
and favorite one in Palestine, is a cross
tietween the Arabian and the Russian,
which is sixteen or seventeen hands high, a
large powerful horse and something very
beautiful. For such a horse the French
Consul paid 400 Napoleons,
The supposed deterioration of the Arab
horse ot late years may be from the system
of close breeding, to a degree which would
not be tolerated elsewhere, aud the result is
weakuess. All blooded horses of the Ara
bians are very closely related by blood.
Such is the prejudice of blood that an in
ferior specimen of a favorite strain is pre
ferred to a liue specimen of a lower strain.
Another cause may be scarcity of food and
lack of care—if, indeed, auy such deter
ioration does exist.
A FARMER, on being asked to write a
testimonial for a patent clothes-wringer,
produced the following . 4 'l bought your
clothes-wringer and am hugely pleased with
it. 1 bought a jag of wood, which proved
too green and uufit to burn, I ran the
whole load through your wringer, and
have used the wood for kindling ever
since, ,T
K*rimd Might.
Miiny intelligent people in Hoot land and
elsewhere believe in what is called the
second sight, or, a power of seeing what
is going ou many miles away. '1 he power
is lesa couimoo than it used to be years
ago, but to many facts are told by per
sons whose veracity cannot he questioned,
that it is easier to believe them without
explaining the mystery, than to deny
them. Similar facts in our own midst
are not wanting confirming the possibility
of this second sight.
It is a historical fact that He v. Jos.
liuckinilister, who died in Vermont in
1812, just before his death, announced
that his distinguished s in, lb v. J. S.
Huckuiiusler, of Boston, was dead. It
afterward turned out that the son had
breathed his last about the time his father
made the amiouueement.
A parallel to that of the Buckminsters
occurred hut a short time since at Eaton,
Ohio. On a Wednesday morning in April,
73, at four o'clock, Gen. John of
that place, breathed his last. But a few
minutes of that Joseph Deem, who
also died on the same day, aroused from
his sleep, and said to his son John, who sat
at his side, 44 John, Gen ljuinn is dead."
To this John said : * 4 l reckon you are
mistaken, father; you have been dream
iug. 1 guess Gen. Quinn is not dead, he
is not even sick, but goes down town regu
larly every day tor his mail."
44 Yes,"said lather Deem, "I know he
is deadand he had scarcely finished
speaking when a neighbor walked in and
said to them, "Gdh. Quiun is dead !"
What is strange about it, is that Father
Deem did not know of Gen. ill
ness, ami, in all probability, bail not heard
Ins name mentioned.
The late Dr. Francis Way land was
accustomed to tell of an incident of this
kind, which occurred to his mother, a
woman of sound judgement and of ad
mirably balanced character. Young
Francis was expected home from New
York, where he bud !>een attending medical
lectures. Suddenly, one day, the mother
la-gan to walk the tioor hurriedly, saying
to her hushaud, 4 * Fray for my sou. Fran
cis is in danger. 1"
She was so agitated and urgent that the
father put up a prayer for deliverance
from peril. When Francis at length
arriveu home, the mother asked at once,
• 4 What has taken place f" lie told of an
adventure. While coming up the North
Kiver on a sl<x>p he had fallen overlioard,
and the sloop had passed over him. Be
ing an athletic swimmer, he hail kept
atioat until rescued.
lleinrich Zschokke, one of the eminent
literary men of Germauy, possessed at
times the curious power of seeing the
whole lite of a stranger into whose com
pany he happened to be thrown. The
incidents of the life seemed to pass be
fore birn in kind of vision, with a dis
tmctnesss even in minute details. He
couJd not tell in what the power lay, nor
how it came to him ; nor was it perman
ent, or even gener&L It came mysteri
ously and left as strangely. But he often
tested its accuracy by recounting to the
strauger the whole story of the life as it
appeared to him, and never failed to re
ceive an acknowledgement of its truth,
even in miuute particulars. Once, when
travelling with two of his sous, he met
with another man, an orange peddler, who
hail a similar gift, and who, to the great
delight of the boys, told the incidents of
Zschokke's life from boyhood.
A distinguished scientist has advanced
the theory in our hearing, to which he
himself holds, that there is an uuknown
menial power in the human system that is
independent of our recognized faculties,
and superior to them. Certain persons on
going to sleep tlx upon an hour of the
night to awake, and always awake at the
tixed time. This indicates a knowledge
of time possessed by this unexplained
mental power which is beyond the reach
of the ordinary faculties.
Many of the French soldiers, returning
from the German frontier during the late
war, were found sleeping dunng a weari
some march, but they kept in rank and
obeyed orders. People have composed
poems, reasoned with wonderful clearness
on abstruse subjects, aud even played the
piano with unusual brillaucy aud expres
sion, during sleep.
l)r. Browu-SSequard once related an In
cident of his own experience somewhat
similar to those recorded of Zschokke.
He was once lecturiug to some French
students, talking very rapidly, his whole
mind wrapped up in the subject. He
suddenly stopped short in bis discourse,
and stood before the audieuce, lost, as it
were, in profound thought. While his
mind had seemingly been concentrated
on the subject of his lecture with unusual
intensity, there had been forced into it
the solution of a problem of science that
bad bathed bis elforts for a long perod,
aud which was quite foreign to the sub
ject of which he was treating. TLs stud
ents became alarmed, thinking from bis
s*range silence, that he must have been
taken ill, and ho thought it .prudent to
make an explanation of the cause of his
conduct on the spot.
ArHenlc ami Vanadium lu Cauntir Soda.
Since caustic soda is no longer exclu
sively made from crude soda and lime, but
is also produced directly from rod liquor,
the product is often contaminated with un
due proportions ot chlorides, sulphates,
cartiouates, even nitrites, and sometimes
cyanogen compounds. The author has now
also met with arsenic and vanadium in
caustic soda. The latter impurity may be
disregarded, being rare and very minute ;
but the former is more serious. A sample
ot this caustic soda, dissolved in dilute
sulphuric acid, and the solution tested
directly in Marsh's apparatus, yielded a
strong arsenic mirror. by means of
precipitation with h) dro-sulphuric acid,
etc., yielded O.ld per cent of arsenic acid.
The same sample contained also 0.014 per
cent of vanadic acid. The latter may be
recognized by passing through a solution of
the caustic soda a current of hydro-sulphuric
acid, when the liquid will dually assume
an intense reddish violet. This is filtered
and acidulated with dilute sulphuric acid,
when a precipitate will be obtained, which!
after beinj washed, will produce with
borax a yellow bead in the outer blow pipe
flame, and a green bead in the inner. On
heating the precipitate in the air, a reddish
yellow mass is obtained, which is soluble
in ammonia with a yellow color. The latter
solution, slightly acidulated with hydro
i chloric acid, yields a bluish-black preci
pitate witli infusion of nutgalls.
Scenes Behind the Bars,
At 5 o'clock the convicts in the Auburn
New York btale Prison quit their work
and form in line in their shops. Tbey are
marched to the 4, bucket ground," and al
ter sluicing their buckets on their arms
they shuttle In long lines in single file to
their cells. As each one passes to his little
iron barred apartment he is handed his
dish of inusli and molasses. He finds a
cup of erust coffee on a small bracket just
outaide liis dor. This be lakes inside
with bun. After this the doors are closed
by the convicts themselves, aud the keeper
of each gang walks along his gallery and
locks his men in. After 9 o'clock every man
is supposed to be wrapped in slumtier. At
an i rate, be must be as quiet as though he
were sound asleep. No noises or talking
arj i>crtijiUed; anyone who breaks this
rule Is "chalked iu. ' "Chalked in,''
means thai the cell d<wr will be chalked
aud the inmate* locked iu in the morning
for punishment. The north "wing,"
which is the largest of the two wiugs, offers
the best opportunity for mghl scenes. The
guards are compelled to make their rounds
every halt hour. The corridors are kept
origlitly lighted to prevent attempts at es
♦•ajie. The guaids wear shoes male of
clutli, which render their footsteps noise
less. The convicts call these shoes
"sueaks," as the guards wearing them are
enabled to creep along the galleries silent
ly, and often surprise convicts in trans
gression of the rules.
There are five long galleries In the north
wing, and nearly a thousand convicts, wheu
the prison is full, locked in the cells. A
uighl may pass without a single sound
lieiug heard. The men may read until the
lime arrives for them to put out their
lights and turn in, but it Is seldom that the
day breaks without the quiet having been
disturbed. The stillness is oppresive and
a shrill whistle from some mischief-I>ent
prisoner falls with a startling effect upon
the ear. It is the delight ot some of the
men to make trouble, aud in the middle of
the night oue of them may burst out with
a loud cry, a sharp peal of laughter, or
something of that nature. Detection is
almost impossible, owiug to the large
uuuilier of cells aud the uearuets of the
convicts to each other.
One convict, a boy of eighteen, tantalized
the guards night after uighl for a long
lime by ever and anou piping a roundelay
in a piercing whistle. it was difficult to
locale the fellow, but finally he was caught
iu the act aud for his pleasure he suffered
an application of the paddle, which had a
salutary effect, as he never afterward en
gaged in such business. It requires but
little to set a whole gallery in an uproar.
Convicts are easily influenced, and any in
centive at night will unloose their tongues.
As by some nook or crook tbey obtain the
daily papers, they keep well pjsted. They
know of every political or other kind ofde
monstr&liou, and are prepared for it. Any
unueal disturbance in the vicinity of the
prison is sure to create a hubbub inside the
walls. One night a cannon was fired near
the prison. This, with the exultant cries of
the crowd who were discharging it, awoke
all the prisoners in the north wing. Some
of the convicts began to shout. Others
took up the refrain, and in less time than
it takes to teil the whole wing was in con
fusion. For an hour or more the men
yelled like mad, and no effort of the guard
could stop ttiem. Finally the noise sub
sided aud peace reigned once more. Al
though it was late at night, a large assemb
lage collected outside of the prison, at
tracted by the yelling. It was supposed
that an insurrection had broken out.
There was one man who would insist
every night for a time, about 12 o'clock, in
indulging in a demoniacal laughter that re
verberated thrcugh the corridors. This
was iuvariably takeu up by the other con
victs, and the great wing fairly rang with
the laughter from ten hundred lips. The
effect would almost drive one wild.
Wheu all join in the disturbance the
convicts do not care if the guards
are watching them, and they kuow
the whole wing would not be chalked
in, and oue could not be left in without
leaving all the others. Oue convict wan
''locked" in a cell in which a hideous-look
ing negro died. This man would scream
In the dead of the night, "For God's sake,
don't kill me! Spare me, spare me !" He
imagined that the dead negro was clutch
ing at his throat aud strangling him to
death. The man's appeals were pitiful,
aud he would be found cowed in the cor
ner of his cell, trembling with fear. The
officers of the prison were compelled to le
move him to another cell. Had lie re
maiued in his old cell he would have gone
mad. This man's tearful cry would in
stantly arouse the ot h ~r convicts and seutt
them all into a shriek of alarm. The men
acted as if they were all afraid.
Ghosts are frequently seen by a supersti
tious couvicl who imagines he sees oue aud
is certain to shout the information to the
remainder of fhe prisoners. "Ghosts,
ghosts t" will sound through the long
wing. The convicts, if they dislike a
guard, may apply epithets to him with
perfect impunity. Every man will join iu
the attack. The poor guard has no recourse.
He cannot find out vho assailed him. Oue
Fourth of July night, wheu the guns were
booming, the convicts concluded to indulge
in a jollification among themselves. Au en
ihusiastic convict started the song "March
ing through Georgia." Every tongue
took it up, aud the refraiu rolled out
through the grated windows of the street
and drew an immense coucourse. Not un
frequently the intention spreads to the south
wing, which is much smaller, directly
across the court. With the two wings yell
ing at the top of their lungs, it would make
the hair of those unaccustomed to the
sound to stand on the end. It is easy to
calculate the noise that could be created
by from thirteen hundred to fifteen hun
dred meu. At 6 o'clock in the morn
ing the men are required to arise, and at
0.15 they must be ready to march to tue
bucket ground to dump their buckets and
perform their ablutions previous to going
to the mess room for breaktast. After their
morning meal they proceed to the shops
for the labors of the day.
—Pearl fishery in England is as old as
Csesar's time.
—Nearly 3,000,001) acres of land in
Ireland consists of bogs.
—Do bank directoes direct.
—Baron Rothschild left $400,000,000.
—Nearly 3,000,000 acres of land in
Ireland consists of bog.
—The largest animals are fast disap
pearing.
American Traditions,
An English paper observes that the
difference in the importance which is
attached to the War of Independence in
the mind of the American and in that of
the Englishman is of course immense,
and naturally so. To the former the
spot upon which each skirmish was
fought is sacred ground, while the dearth
of exciting incident in their short na
tional and colonial history drives the
author and the poet with never-ceasing
freshness to those with ns almost for
gotten fields for his story and his lay.
The names and deeds of each general
have been imprinted on the mind of the
American from his youth up. To claim
descent from those legislators and war
riors who were called from comparative
obscurity to be the founders of what
must soon be the greatest nation upon
earth to the present generation is a
! Murce of the most pardonable pride.
Names and traditions that we in Eng
land have never heard—nay, the names
of even British soldiers that bled for ns
on the long list of fruitless victories and
disastrous defeats, and that we have
long forgotton—still live in the fireside
lore of every good American's house
hold. When the whole facts of the case
are loriie in mind, and when it is recol
lected what a sorry figure we cut as a
nation throughout the whole business,
there is nothing very remarkable, per
haps, in the oblivion to which British
literature has consigned those ill-starred
campaigns. But in these days, when
every well-informed aud sensible Eng
lish-man not only feels no bitterness
conuected with that straggle, but sym
pathises unreservedly with the motives
that led the Colonies to fight; and which
the magnitude of the great nation to
which that war gave birth is considered
and the growing significance that in
consequence must attach to the date of
its entry into the family of nations, it is
a little singular how insignificant a place
the events of which we speak and the
participators in them occupy in the
minds of even cultivated Englishmen.
The almost unique perfection of Wash
ington's career and character hfts, it is
true,lifted him out of the obscurity that
veils the names and deeds af his cotem
poraries. How many are there of us
for instance, to whom the name of Pat
rick Henry would have any significance?
Aud vet this was the mau, self taught,
sprung from the lower classes, once
considered too ignorant and uncouth for
a coloniel country lawyer, who, by a
natural eloquence so extraordinary of
of its kind aud so remarkable for its ef
fect that an exact parallel for it would
be hard to find iu history, completely
crushed out the clinging to the mother
country that was so strong through the
Southern colonies, then the most im
portant portion of the continent It is
was the sword of Washington that actu
ally severed the bonds of union, it may
also be said that it was the voice of
Henry that caused it to unsheathed. For
if the South had not risen, Washington
would most certainly have remained at
home, for a strong sense of duty only
drove him to the field, and he owned no
kind of allegiance to anything but his
own colony, Virginia.
A Steam Passenger Catamaran.
The new steam catarmaran which JohD
Evcrtseu, of Troy, N. Y., is intending to
put on the route between Westerly and
Watch Hill as a passenger boat, lately
arrived at Providence, so says The Jour
nal of that city. She is of very light
draught, of only forty-five tons burden,
with hull sixty feet long and beam six feet,
and a carrying capacity of about 400 per
sons. The following are s >me of the
novelties of her construction: First, the
propeller, which is hung amidships and
between the hulls of the vessel, tie.
power being applied by a double engine;
second, the manner of working the engine,
which the pilot doss from the pilot-house,
where a starting lever and reversing lever
are located, dispensing with customary
signals by bells, though the services of aa
eugiueer are required for all other pur
poses. There are two decks, main and
promenade. On the former, which is
elliptical iu form, are the cabin, engine
and boiler-room, and the steward's pantry,
with a broad path all around, and rail of
usual licigth. A companion way leads to
the upper deck, whick is broad and opeu,
with only the pilot-house and captain's
room to break the space. llow fast the
boat is, is yet to be shown. The owueis
ciaim that this is the first boat of its clas3
to which sieiui has been successfully
applied, four having been previously built,
none of which operated satisfactorily.
To Hubud.
Always complain of being tired, ana re
member that nobody else gets tired.
Your wife should always have everything
in readiness for you, but you should not do
anything for her.
When your wife asks for money, give
her a nickel, ask her what she intends to do
with it, and when she tells you, ask her if
she can't do without it
Then go down town and spend ten times
the amount for cigars, for they are a ne ,
cessity.
Go down town of an evening, stand
around on the street corner and talk poli
tics; its more interesting than to stay at
home with your family.
Charge your wife not to gossip but you
can spin all the yarns you wish.
Have your wife get up and make fires,
but don't get up yourself till the re3t of the
family are eating breakfast, as yon might
take cold.
Wear old clothes and make yourself as
untidy as possible until your wife's health
fiils, then it would be best to fix up some,
for in all probability you will want another
when she is gone.
Have a smile for everybody you meet,
but get a frown on before you go home^
NO 3.