VOL. LVI. HARTER, AUCTIONEER, REBER3BURG, PA. J C. SPRINGER, Fashionable Barber, Next Door to JOURNAL Store, MILLHKIH, PA. JgROCKERHOFF HOUSE, (Opposite Court House.) H. BROCKERHOFF, Proprietor. WM. MCKKKVKR, Manager. Go H) sample rooms ou first floor. Free bus to and from all trains. Special rates to jurors and witnesses. Strictly First Class. IRVIN HOUSE. (Most Central Hotel In the Cltyj Corner MAIN and JAY Streets, Lock Haven, Pa. S. WOODS CALW'ELL, Proprietor. Good Sample Rooms for Commercial Travelers, on first floor. D. H. MINGLE, Physician and Surgeon, • MAIN Street, MILLHKIX, Pa. JOHN F. HAKTER, PRACTICAL DENTIST, Oilloe In 2d story of Tomliusoa's Gro cery Store, On MAIN Street, MILI.HKIM, Pa. BW KINTER . FASHIONABLE BOOT A SHOE MAKER Sbop next door to Foote's Store, Main St., Boots, Shoes and Gaiters made to order, and sat isfactory work jfuaramead. Repairing done prompt ly aud cheaply, and in a neat style. 8. R. PKii.K. H. A. MCKEK. PEALE & MoK EE, ATTORNEYS AT LAW, OOloe opposite Court House, Bellefoute, Pa. C. T. Alexander. C. M. Bower. \ LEXANDER & BOWER, ATTORNEYS AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA. Office In Oarman's new building. JOHN B. LINN, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BKLLEPONTE, PA. Office on Allegheny Street. OLEMENT DALE, ATFORNEY AT LAW, BELLE FONTS, PA. Northwest corner of Diamond, J y H. HASTINGS, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA. Office on Allegheny Street, 2 doors west of office formerly occupied by the late flrrn of Yocum A Hastings. C. HEINLE, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BELLEFONTE, PA. Practices in all the courts of centre County. Spec al attention to Collections. Consultations in German or English. F. REEDER, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BELLEFONTE, PA. All business promptly attended to. Collection of claims a speciality. _____ jT/T. Beaver. J W. Gephart. JGEAVER & GEPHART, ATTORNEYS AT LAW, BELLEFONTE, PA. Office on Alleghany Street, North of High. A. MORRISCTN, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BELLEFONTE, PA. omce on Woodrlng's Block, Opposite Court House. _____ Yy S. KELLER, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BELLEFONTE, PA. Consultations in English or German. Office in LyonN Building, Allegheny Street. JOHN Q. LOVE, ATTORNEY AT LAWr $ BELLEFONTE. PA. • Office in the rooms formerly oocmied fey the UMV P WUMOk ibc PMlicint §mml AFTKK. After the showers, the tranquil sun; After the snow, the emerald leaves; Stiver stars when the day isuoue: After the harvest golden sheaves. After the clouds, the violet sky ; After the tempest, the lull of waves; quiet woods when the winds go by, After the battle, peaceful graves. After the knell the wedding bells; After the bud, the radiant rose; Joyful greetings from sail farewells; After our weeping, s\,eet repose. After the burden, the luissful meed ; After the tight, the downy nest; After the furrow, the waiting seed, After the shadowy river—rest! •COON CATCHING. It was one of those pleasant nights in August whon the tuoou iuid the sun hold a contest as to which shall uthird the morning's light by which the predatory huntsman may ftud watermelons ami his 'coons. For it was m Kentucky that we were spending that month, at a quaint, oldtime Bout hern house, near Louisville —a square-built, plain brick house that had been enlarged as the exigencies of an increasing family de manded. Down in the dell below rip pled a brook. The scene was sug gestive, particularly because a small dog that formed an important member of the party was constantly hurrying hither and thither end "barking up a tree" the wrong tree of course. "Let's snow these Yankees a coon hunt," said a broad-shouldered Ken tucky an who had been following the movement# of the dog witu no little interest. The proposition was no soon er aiade than accepted. It was late, but who ever heard of a 'coon hunt when it was not late. So, without more ado, we set out. A darky was aroused trom the cabin and, far from being un willing, showed more eagerness than the misguided dog. Into a wagon we tumbled after the elmny attendant had provided himself with a long rope, an axe and a lantern, to say nothing of a partieularly disagreeable dog that was patronized by every one, but submitted only to the sug-restio is of Peter. Peter drove us over a "pike' road and fin idly brought up at the gate of a very dilapi dated house. "Hallo!" called the breed shouldered Kentuckian who had acted as guide. "What is it?" was the reply of a fee ble woman who appeared at the door of the dilapidated bouse with a weak yeL low light from a candle weakly shining into a not very strong face. "Where's Walker? 1 ' was the reply. "He's down to the river at his house down there." "Where's liis dog?" "Hu. dog's with Walker, of course," was the disdainful reply, aud the weak lookiug woman with the faint light shut the door with a dilapidated bang. "Who's Walker?" asked one of the Yankees. "He's Walker Taylor, a nephew of old Zach Taylor, and the representa tive of the family in tins part of the country. This is where Kentucky's only President lived, aud there's where Kentucky lets him live," added the speaker, meditatively, as he pointed to a clump of shrubbery. "Where?" was eagerly asked by the Yaukees. "Get down and Bee," Baid our guide, as lie leaped from the wagon. There in a mass of uucut weeds and bushes was a veritable vault, and there iuy the bones of "Old Rough and Ready," the only son of Kentucky who ever sat i* the highest seat of this land. And we were looking for his nephew and representative, the owner of the old homestead wiiere the President and his father before liim had lived: we were looking for Walker Taylor and his dog to help us hunt the coon! The spot was not without its romance and its tenderness as the moonlight streamed down into the unkept garden. Since then tne dust of the old warrior has been removed to more hallowed ground. It lias been taken to the cemetery at Louisville to await the erection of a monument at the Frankfort cemetery, where other great Kentuckiaus are bur ied in a sort of State cemetery. But there in the sombre light the scene was sad and impressive. The tomb was only a brick structure, eaten away in places by the "consuming hand," and all overgrown with the Vir ginia creepers, or the five-leaf ivy. as it is called thereabouts, and made obscure in the mass of briers and weeds that tilled up what gave evidence of having once been a cultivated garden. There was no line to say that there rested all that was mortal of the old hero whose battles had won him the soubriquet of "Old Rough and Ready." Rough enough it was, and there had been time enough for preparation, lying there, as the ashes did, in an undisturbed quiet, for the old house of the living was not more carefully tended than that of the dead. It had never been the scene of much adornment, for old Taylor had been as ready in his home as in his bat tles, and the scenes of his successes had lain in other parts; he learned to plan there, and perhaps to love there, and he had oome back to rest the long rest There were no historic memories of fetes and gala times; but for all that there was an air of regret about all the scene, with the MILLHEIM. PA., THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 23,1882. queer little gabled house just peering over t lie bushes and now decaying be lies th the boughs of the large trees fc that surrounded it. Vines grew over the house, as they did over the little vault and over the fence. The place looked as though long years ago people had ceased to enter it and hopes and hearts there were dead. And vet this was the homestead of a President and here his descendants lived! Leaving the somber scene, we drove rapidly to the river to Taylor's "other house." It was a fisherman's hut float ing on the water's edge. The unlock od door swung open at our bidding, but there was no sign of man except a few lines and nets and a pair of oars. "He's running his trout hue," said our Kontuckiun, "and we will have to row up the river for iiim." He tooi% the pair of oars and we, dogs and all, got ink* a boat built with a square keel and bow, and with labored stroke we made our way up the Ohio, occasionally hallooing for "Wal-ker!" At last there was a response, ami making our way out iuto the stream we found a little old man sitting in the stern of a boat made of the trunk of a tree and familiarly known as u "dugout." He was running a "trout line." The Presi dent's nephew was paddling klong this line, lifting up hook after hook and finding very few flab. Our guide said that "Walk.v Taylor" was one of the niorst farmors in the country, but one of the beat fishermen, and that ho owned a liouud famous all about for her exploits iu hunting the treacherous 'coon. Very little sufficed for Taylor's wants; he required only a quantity of whisky and a little to eat, and the fish served well euough for both. His friends supported the hound, Tay lor's appearance bore testimony to the truth of all this; he was little, his hair grew thinly all over his face, and had that stragglmg appearance that, to gether with a blossoming nose, a full, weak mouth, a coat that did not fit and trousers tucked into his boots, gave to Mr. Taylor altogether a rakish air. He looked good-natured, generous but con scious that lie had nothing hut his own goou nature to be generous with. Such was Walker Taylor. His hound was his counterpart on four legs. She had au appearance of melancholy hap piness. As we rowd to the bank she looked less melancholy and more happy; and when once put ashore, slie was all life, and her eager step had something spirited in it. Thou from the bank the hunt begau, the hound taking the lead, the terrier following, and the disagreeable dog in the rear. Then came Walk Taylor, his hands iu his pockets, and the rest of us straggled along as best we could. The brush on the bank of the river was beaten through; the bound gave short, quick cries that told how anxious she was to find something. Presently we left the river bank and got into the interior. Then the march was over field and fence—a long, fruitless march. Suddenly the hound gayeacry; she led straight up to a farm-yard, through the yard to a number of buildings that stood at a little distance from the dwelling house. Undaunted Walker led the way, treading under foot corn, tomatoes and vine, just as they came in his way, Straight to a chieken-liouse he inarched, and there, outside the door, we found the three dogs, all much excited. The lantern was lighted, the staple 011 the door was forced, and iu we marched. It was the work of an instant for the terrier to rush up the side of the wall and to tumble down again engaged tooth and nail with a young coon. It was the work of another instant for the bulldog to help the terrier, and in ft very few minutes there was such a dust 011 the chicken-house floor as was never seen there before. There was also some noise, enough to attract the uttenliou of the xople of the house, who, turned with night-gowns, lanterns, sticks and shot-gu s. came to make an investiga tion. It took some adroitness and good lungs to explain amid the confu sion that au act of charity was doing; but when the lifeless body of the pre datory coon was exhibited the steviee rendered was gratefully acknowledged, It was after this exploit, when we had walked a mile further, that our guide suid, Peter what have you in that bag?" " I'se got de coon, snh," responded Peter. '•Feels very hard," said the master, prodding the bag with a stick, "and it looks heavv." "Yes, sir, he's the awfullest, heaviest coon ever dis child toted. He's a old coon, shuali: but Snide was 100 much for him—ha, ha! Land a massy, what a dus' dat pup raised." "What else is there in the bag?" asked our friend, not thrown oiT by this oration of the darkey. "Dey ain't nufifin else, sali," said Peter, very seriously. "Let's see?" said the other. •Tse got de rope in dah," said Peter, apparently oblivious of the faot that another member of the party was car rying the rope. Filially he was convinced of his error in this respect, and on opening the bag out rolled a large wetermelon. "Golly, Mars' Henry, I meant to s'prise you. I thought when you wuz tired maybe a piece watermillion go mighty good, so I jes' fetch it 'long when wo came through de ole man's place up dah. Is you ready for the watermillion now?" he asked innocently, llaviug turned the theft to such good account, "Mars' Henry" was not dis posed to quarrel over the wrong, and Peter escaped easily. After this diverting incident w.i lay down upon the ground and Walker Tay lor went to sleep and snored. We did not. After this rest another Htart was made in the direction of the river and our wagon. We reached the bank just as the sun began to tinge tliu clouds aud the hills in the east. A steamboat laden with ireiglit and passengers plowed its way toward Cincinnati, and came near us just as the hound opened a cry that she had "treed" the 'coon. Taylor had gone off to "run his trout lino," and while we waited for him the dog sut quietly under the tree, and Peter threw his rope over the lowest limb and pro ceeded to climb into the boughs. Once there, lie sprang nimbly from limb to limb looking for the game. At last he found it, and anuoumC'd in an exultant tone that it was au "ole 'un" The 'coon was clinging tightly to a large lhnb and could not be shuken down. Then Peter began to cut with his ax. The limb came to the ground with a crash. The 'coon took to his feet, but liis run was a short one. Soon the dogs had him. "Fair play's a jewel," and fair play, more than fair play, was given his 'ooousliip mti e fight that ensued. He and the small bulldog were put to it, the other dogs being restrained. Boon the animals caught a death-hold; the dog had the coon by the throat, the 00011 had the dog by the neck. There was no let go iu that struggle. While the two held each other in this way one of us caught the dog, another the coon. With throe swings they wepe thrown out into the river where the water was deep. That made things more nearly equal, A coon lights better in the water tlian a dog. The struggle was severe, sicken ing m its ferocity. The water about the animals was in a foam and was bloody. Boon the tight was over. 'The 'coon gave up, the dog shook him un resisted and the 'coon floated, It was dead. The dog tried to swim ashore, but he sank; he, too. had expended all his powers iu the battle. Peter was ready for the emergency. Without wasting time to trip he plunged into the water and the dog was rescued, though he lay for several minutes lifeless upon toe bank while we did what we could to revive him. Finally he was himself again, and, with never a look back, he walked quietly to the wagon. Then in the broad light of day we concluded our chase, a liuue more wearisome but hardly less exciteing than the run after an aniseo-seed bag. Chewing Guin. Fort}- thousand dollars' worth of chew ing glim is gathered in the State of Maine every year. In Oxford county is a man who makes it his business to col lect spruce guui. Every year he buys from seven to nine tons. The gum is found chiefly in the region about Uin bagog Lake and about the Raugely hikes. A number of men do nothing else in the winter season except to oollect gum. With snowshoes, axe, and ashe boygan, on which is packed the gum, they spend days and nights in the woods. The clear, pure lumps of gum sold are in their native state, the best bringing one dollar a pound. Gum not immedi ately merchantable is refined by a pecu liar process. Sieve-like boxes are cov ered with spruce boughs, on which is placed the gum. Steam is introduced underneath. The cum is melted, is strained by the boughs, and then passes into warm water, where it is kept from hardening until the packer takes it out, drav s it into sticks, and wraps it in tis sue paper, when it is ready for market. The gum then meets with ready sale. There is not a village, town or city in Maine where it is not in demand. One dealer last year sold fourteen hundred dollars' worth. In the large mill cities gum has a free sale. In Biddeford, Lewiston, Lawreice, and Lowell, the factory girls consume large quantities. It is said that in the lumber camps gum is used as a means of extending hospi tality. After meal time the host fills liis own black clay pipe, and hands it to his guests. .Later, clear lumps of spruce gum are placed before the visitor, and he is asked to take a chew. Maiuo pro duces forty thousand dollars' worth of gum in a year, some of which finds its way to this market, from which it is distributed to the various outlying factory villsges, where, as stated before, it is iu good demand. Spruce gum is adulterated, and those who adulterate take the trouble to fashion the pieces of gum to appear Jike those taken in a pure state from the trees. The ingredient of adulteration is supposed to be the gum of the pine tree. "OH, 1 tell you, you can't abolish the jury system. It's one of the abutments upon which rests the structure of freedom and equity, and all tbose things. If you bust the jury system you'll have to abolish also three-card monte and other games of chance. 1 tell you Americans will not be denied this kmd of menial lelaxation It's about all the fun we have," Wondsi-ful Strength of Inwrti, "If you want to see muscle," a nat uralist said, " take a glunee through this glass," pointing to a seat before a p jwerful microscope. The drop of Cro ton water was fairly alive with little round or oval bodies. There was noth ing specially remarkable about them; but soon a wonderful creature rolled upon the scene from a distant part of the drop. In appearance it resembled a crystal bell. The edges wore orna mented with a delicate fringe, and the entire mass was as transparent as glass. The mouth of the bell was evidently the mouth of tbe animal, because the ob server saw it rush ulong like a scoop, and turning down, fasten its edges to the bot tom, us if to secure some minute animal that was resisting, and a second later some object could be seen passing up into ihe body. "If you had the strength of that ani mal," the naturalist said, " in proportion to your size, you could take Trinity Church by its steeple and toss it over into New Jersey. Tin re are animals in this drop tliut we can't see with this powerful glass. Suppose there was this same difference in size among the higher unimals. Elephants would be as laige as the state cf Rhode Island. If this bell animal was as much larger than man as it is than these little creatures it is eating, we would see a gigantic scoop of jelly larger than the Forty second street reservoir coming down upon us. whirling in the water and causing such a suction that a regiment of men would, if iu the water, be hurled and twisted aud then encompassed by it. The strength of the creature can be imagined when it is known that the smallest section of the tluest hair that could be cut seemed like a mountain beside it; yet the mioroscop ic creature moved the end of an entire hair placed over the glass. In moving about it threw aside bits of alg and mud. That could be compared to the act of a single man striking down one of the giant trees of California or kick ing over a block of houses. lam devis ing an instrument to measure the power of these micioscopie giants. You see, among the lot there are always a num ler that seem, from no special cause, to be in great terror, rushing about wildly, stopping at nothing, passing through masses of weed and mud in direct lines. Now, the force with which they bring up against a barrier is certainly the maxi mum of their strength; so 1 arranged a machine after the plan of one that I have seen to measure the velocity of a shot, the latter striking a frame, and the force of the blow being recorded on a scale. For my partition I took what was evidently the egg sUell or cover of some microscopic animal. I attached it by one end to a larger body, and the whole thing stood over a delicate scale that was cut on the glass slide, and as the animals rushed along they atruok the partitiou or hand aud pushed it. around the scale." "What was the result?" '' Well, to tell the truth, the first one that came along broke down the parti tion, and I haven't been able to adjust it again. When Ido I'll let you know. I haven't sold any stock yet, and haven't even applied for a patent, so (he gener al public won't suffer. I have in haud another instrument, with which I intend to measure the movements of the wings and legs of insects per minute and sec ond, and I think they can be photo graphed as well as the feet of a trotter while in motion. This will be fine work, as with a simple instrument I have shown that the wings of a common house-fly move more than 200 times per second, and the machine lost more than half the vibrations. I have watched a fly for five minutes hanging almost in one spot under a chandelier, kept up by the con tinuous movement, of its wings, and esti mated that the operation required over 100.000 beats of the wings, or over 400 a second, or 800 simple oscillations; the house fly is not as lively as some others of the tribe. I have in following wild bees K> find their nest, found that they are ofton 011 the wing thirty minutes in forty-five, the allowance being for the time in which they weije on flowers, and during that period they must have bea their wings 342,000 times. A spidei can bind a fly securely, winding twenty or thirty cables of silk about it, in less thau a second and a half. Those rapid movements show the wonderful physical powers of small animals. Here are some eontrivances to measure the strength of beetles and large insects." One was a long box, sanded on the bottom, with glass sides. At the end was a small friction wheel, over whioh ran a silk thread. On one end was at tached a tissue-paper receptacle for weights, and the other was tied in a slip noose. A large black ant was taken from a flask, the noose caught around liis body, and, on being released, rushed away up the miniature street, hoisting the scales and three grains of corn with the greatest ease. A small red ant was then brought out, and, after several false starts and showing evidenoe of a decidedly mulish disposition, it ran off, hoisting a very heavy pea. ••An ant can carry a weight about seventy-five times its own," the natural ist said. If you had the muscle of one of these little creatnres in proportion to your size you could lift about 11,000 pounds. An English Army Story. Our commanding officer. Col, Free man— retired now thee seven years— was a gentleman of very limited knowl edge as regards regimental manoeuvers, aud as the Ouety-oneth had been ata tinned at N for more than a year, and was apparently forgotten by the authorities, he had no inducement to extend his acquaintance. Thus, from long practice, we would go through his half dozen movements with a precision and readiness that might have been en vied by the smartest corps in tbe ser vice. But there we stopped. Beyond those we knew nothing. You can ima gine, then, our consternation when we heard that the officer commanding the district—Lord Fufferoo—was coming officially inspect us. Freeman, was at first overcome by the news but after a time we could see upon his face a look of stern resolve. He had evidently made up his mind to do something desperate. The fatal day came at last, as did also Gen. Lord Pufferoo, "attended hy a brilliant staff," as the newspapers say. We were duly paraded and inspected, and put through the same old manoeu vers we had performed every day for the last twelve months. We deployed and marched, and marched and de ployed, and then began all over again, till at last the General allowed evident, signs of impatience. And then, when an aide-de-camp came galloping up to Freeman, we knew our fate was sealed. "Col Freeman," said the aid de-camp, suavely, "his lordship wishes me to ex press his satisfaction with the move ments so far; nothing could have been done better. At the same time he would suggest that something fresh might be gone through with advantage. He lias scarelv, as yet had an opportu nity to judge of your regiment's capa bilities." "Tell his lordship," said the old Colonel, hoarsely, "that hfr shall be obeyed." We all wandered what was coming next. Juigeof our astonish ment, when, after getting us into line facing the staff, he rode behind us aud called out: "Battalion—with ball car tridge. load! Ready! pre—!" Before he could get out "Present!" the General and liis staff had turned tail and were flying over the field to get out of the range! Lord Ptifleroo was back to his headquarters at once, and next week came an intimation to the Colonel that his resignation would be acceptable. A California Trial. Persons familiar with the early his tory of this country are well aware of the potent influence of eloquence on the uncultivated masses aud how they were moved by the fervent oratory of Patrick Henry and Clay,- and Webster and Corwin, and Crittenden and Tom Marshall and those old time men of the primitive bar, which had never been excelled in the annals of hu man pleading. Au'episode offtj similar nature occurred out in the early days of California min ing, of|Whioli the writer was a spectator. The circumstances were as follows: A miner had been caught stealing gold dust. That kind of business oouldn't be permitted in the -mines; for cible examples bad to be made of all such offenders. Murder regulated itself; there was a rough code of honor recog nized and based upon public sentiment. If the man who killed another had justi fiable prof oca tion, he went unmolested; but if he had killed his man without sufficient cause, he probably paid the penalty with his own life the first time a relative or friend of the murdered man "got the drop on him." The only other public offenoe was theft; that wag so contemptibly mean and so vitally affected the interests of the miners and their sense of safety, that they rarely ever failed to string up the offender even after rough courts were established and trial by jury granted. On this special occasion a bag of gold dust had been taken from under a miner's bunk by one of his working companions and he had been captured with it on his way to San Francisoo and brought back for a quick and effective trial. "Have you auy counsel?" asked the judge. "No, I ain't got no friends nor any body to talk for me; so you might as well cut the chiimiq' short and pull me up." "If you will allow me to act ns oounsel for the prisoner, I'll say a few words for him," replied a tall ungainly miner, who was a stranger at that particular "diggin's." "All right, there's the jury. Bring up your client and let him plead to the charge." The prisoner stood up and admitted the theft, and at the request of the stranger stated the circumstances Which had tempted him to take the dust. He had just gotten a letter from his wife in the fc ßtates, in which she wrote that her mother and ene of his children had died and she begged him if he loved her to come home, even it he had to borrow the money of some of his friends, and she would help him to work and pay it back. He also stated that as he had been unable to borrow the money, he had taken the dust with the intention oj paying it back when h© returned home. The letter was produced in court to I substantiate the truth of his statement, and it evidently weakened some of the jury, but there were stern, unmoved men in the crowd, all belted round with knifes and pistols, who knew that any letting up on theft would render gold dust too unsafe; besides they spoke up right and left, saying that they got just such letters from home as well; that the same kind of sorrow in their own do mestic life came up every day or week to some of them, and the very mutual condition of deprivation and toil should establish a code of honesty above every thing else. Of course, said they, the fellow can have his counsel to chin for him, but we must graft him to a hub all the same, It happened however, that this tall, ungainly old miner who had undertaken the defenoe was an old Methodist camp moeting revival preacher, and although he began very quietly, and. cautiously treading on the dangerous ground of talking in the prisoner's defence, the first thing that judge, jury and specta tors knew, he had got warmed up to his old work, and, although he had the sing -song style of delivery of those old revi valists, his words rang out with all the thrilling eloquence of Clay and the fer vid devotional oratory of a Wesley or a Baseom. One by one the human icioles began to melt around him; one by one they began to turn back on their early lives, to their old homes, their father, mother, brothers and sisters, the old church and Sunday school, and all such tender influence. Many a one of them was carried back by that peculiar voice and style to his old camp-meeting days. It was no longer a mining camp; it was no longer a court room, no longer a trial; it was a camp-meeting, and the old preacher was leading tHem by still waters; he was reaching down and lifting them up out of the mire and clay; and when he closed and solemnly said. "lie us pray for the soul of the man whom we that are innocent are going to slay," there was not a dry eye in the court room, the writers included. And that prayer! who can repeat or describe its fervent words for the soul going to its maker, for the wife and little children waiting in their distant home with loVe and hope and tremulous expectation for him who would never return, listening to every footstep, responding to every sound? Never before or since have been sncli a trial and suoh a defence in the mines of California. The judge, jury and audienoe rose to a man and cleared the prisoner. They did more: they made up a purse and sent the poor fellow home to his wife and ohildren, and lie did just what he intended to do— returned the money to them in six months after his arrival at home. Wht the Wires Said. "Baby is dead!" Threa little words passed along the line; copied somewhere and soon forgotten. But after all was quiet again I leaned my hand upon my head and fell into a deep reverie of all that those words mean. Somewhere—a dainty form, still and cold, unolasped by mother's arms to night; eyes that yesterday were bright and bine as skies of Jane drooped to night beneath white lids that no voioe can ever raise again. Two soft hands, whose rose leaf fing ers were wonc to wander lovingly aiound mother's neok and t;*oe loosely hold ing white buds, quietly folded in confine rest. Soft hps, yesterday rippling with laughter, sweet as woodland break falls, gay as trill of format birds; to, night unresponsive to kiss or call of love. A silent home—the patter of baby feet forever hushed—a cradle unpressed little shoes half worn—dainty garments, shoulderknots of blue to match those eyes of yesterday, folded with aching heart away. A tiny mound snow covered in some quiet graveyard. A mother's groping touch in uneasy slumber for the fair head that shall nev •r again rest upon her bosom. The low sob, the bitter tear, as broken dreams awake to said realitv. The hope of fu ture years wrecked, like fair ships, that suddenly go down in sight of land. The watching of other babies, dimp led, laughing, strong, and this one gone. The present agony of grief, the future emptiness of heart, all held in those three little words: "Baby is death" Crank. Whenoe the term? A reference to the authorities show that two hundred yeai s ago it menfc "a obeat," "an impostor," but it beoame obsolete, perhaps from the dying out of cranks. If it died out and disappeared from general use, how ever, it did not die out with that grand old veteran of literature, Carlyle. He has used the term repeatedly, and brought it down to the present day as meaning "dim of vision, violent of tem per," and the meaning is further devel • oped by the following description: "A headstrong, very positive, loud, dull and angry kind of man. "This is Car lyle's notion, and it gives a pretty good idea. It must be admitted that the word is not like so many of our latter words of Yankee birth or origin, but comes form a royal stook. It was born in the old [Scandinavian days and had an exis tence before the Saxons went into Eng and. Primarily it meant a "twist" and as good to-day as ever. NO 8.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers