VOL. LYI. HARTER, AUCTIONEER, REBERSBURG. PA. J C. SPRINGER. Fashionable Barber, Next Door to JOUBXAL Store, MILLHXIH, PA. B R OCKERHOKF HOUSE, ALLEGHENY STREET, BKLLKFONTE, - - - PA. c. 6. MoMILLEN, PROPRIETOR Good Sample Room on First Floor. Bom to and from all Trains. Special late* to witnesses and jurors. S-i IRVIN HOUSE. (Most Central notel In the City J Corner MAIN and JAY Streets, Lock Haven, Pa. S. WOODS CALWELL, Proprietor. Good Sample Rooms for Commercial Travelers on first floor. D. N. MINGLE, Physician and Surgeon, MAIN Street, MILLHKIM, Pa. JOHN F. HARTER, PRACTICAL DENTIST, Office In 2d story of Tomlinsoa't Gro cery Store, On MAIN Street, MILLHKIM, Pa. BF HIKTFR, • FASHIONABLE BOOT A SHOE MAKER Shop next door to Foote'a Store, Main St., Boots, Shoes and Gaiters made to order, and sat isfactory work guarantee Repairing done prompt ly and cheaply, and in a neat style. a. R. PEALK. H. A. McKss. PEALE & McKEE, ATTORNEYS AT LAW, Office opposite Court House, Bellefonte, Pa. C. T. Alexander. C. M. Bower. A BOWER, ATTORNEYS AT LAW, BKLLEFONTK, PA. Office in O&rm&n's new building. JOHN B. LINN, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BKLLEFONTK, PA. Office on Allegheny Street. QLEMENT DALE, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BKLLEFONTK, PA. northwest corner ot Diamond. 11 i: WTnos, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA. Offlre on Allegheny Street, 2 doors west of office formerly occupied by the late firm of Yocum A Hastings. C. HEINLE" ATTORNEY AT LAW. BEIiKFONTE. PA. Practices In all the courts of Centre County. Spec al attention to Collections. Consultations In German or English. F. REEDER, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BKLLEFONTK, PA. All bus'ness promptly attended to. Collection of claims a speciality. J. A. Beaver. J W. Gephart. . JgEAVER <Sfc GEPHART, ATTORNEYS AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA. Office on Alleghany Street, North of High. ■yOCUM <fc HARSHBERGER, ATTORNEYS AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA. SS. KELLER, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA. Consultations In English or German. Offloe in Lyon's Building, Allegheny Street. jq H. HASTINGS, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA. Office on Allegheny street, two doors west of office formerly occupied by the firm of ocum A Hastings. ile piililete giiwal THE OLD HOME. back to tho old home, With iu ivy-clothed wall, lu IOUR running porch, 1U windows so tall; Back to the old home, With Its flras so brtght, lu joys and lu sports Through the loug winter night. Back ts the old home, To lu clear running brooks, Its vales and meadows, lu romantic nooks, lu birds, trees and flowers, That bloomed sweetly there; Its laJ. stately mountains, IU cool balmy air. Back to the old home; It was there In my youth 1 learned my first lessons Of wisdom and truth, Like angels of good, They attended my ways, When lonely my Journey, When dreary my days. Where arc my friends? Oh I tell me, 1 pray; Alaa! like the years Tliey have gone and away. Like sunt>eains they came, And as soon were they gone. And now 1 am left To mourn them alone. There did I muse In the quiet of eTes, Not a sound to disturb, Save the rustle of leaves. The birds to their rest In the tree-tops had gone, And hushed for a time Their burden of song, AIIIAoXE'S PROPHECY. "You will bo famous yet,Paul,believe me!" Those words were uttered in a sweet, earnest tone; the speaker was a fair young girl, standing in the moonlight beside her lover. A mansion with princely walls gleamed white from among the distant shrubbery; and forth from that mansion her girlhood home, had Ariadne Homer stolen to meet her lover for the last time. For the arrogance of the purse proud rich man had done its work ; the boy-artist, the dreamer, he who is rioher far in his dowried soul than the great manufac turer, Amos Homer had been forbidden those walls and the favoring glances of that rich man's daughter. "I wish my faith were as strong as yours. Adne !" he said, doubtingly. "It should be, Paul," replied the girl. "My heart is a true prophet;l can always trust its teachings. You will come back some day,and then " She stopped suddenly, and then added, "And Paul I will be true and patient, and await the day of your com ing." And a small white hand stole into his. "It is enough, Adne. It if more than I deserve- more than I hoped. Now I can go forth from the humble home of my boyhood and wrestle manfully with life, bearing with me the words you have this night spoken. Adne, you have saved me. You shall be my good angel, my prophet, my guiding star. ISowgoodby, darling, and God keep you when I am overseas and bring me again to your side !" And there, under the tender moon light and the linden shade, they parted. Bridging over five long years of toil and endeavor, and study, we oome to a time in Paul Dillard's life when that life seemed fairest and best, because, his dreams fulfilled, his feet fairly set upon the highway of fame and fortune, he began to turn his gaze homeward to the land where his heart lay—over the ocean. But few letters had found their way to the toiler, and those were all penned in the brown weather stained farm house at Spring Meadow—none from Ariadne Homer. But these he did not expect; relying implicity on her faith, he had asked no token. And how is it with her ? Ah, hearts will change, and gold is a strong lure ; it has won many before now, and this girl, bred in affluence, the pet of an idolizing father, is no wiser nor better. And then Paul Dillard at best was but a boy and a dreamer. He could never bring her to a home like that to which she had been accustomed, or like the one old John Etheridge offered her. Thus it happened the twilight of the same eve that joined the lives if not the hearts of Ariadne and John Etheridge —brought back Paul Dillard to his boyhood's home. Honors and laurel wreaths had all faded before the beacon light of love guiding him homeward. The faintest rays of lingering golden twilight shot upwards through the dus ky bars that latticed the west in the dim gray twilight, when the old-fash ioned stagecoach set down a weary, travel-stained, bearded, foreign-look ing man at a bend in the dusty country highway; and a few minutes' brisk walk brought him into the green grassy lane leading to Jonas Dillard's farmhouse. He will pass over his welcome in that home where he was so loved, but when he retired that night there were tears in the proud mother's eyes as she pres ed her quivering lips to his cheek; and Jonas Dillard's own were not dry. "Paul's turned out the right sort of stuff, after all. He'll do something for us our old age yet. 'Twant a bad move, his going off to furrin parts, was it, mother?" When the old farmhouse was still, and the night shadow* had lengthened on Tower Hill, Paul Dillard softly lifted the doorlatch of the largo "spar cham ber" and stole down the winding stair- MILLIIEIM, PA., THURSDAY, MAY 4,1882. case. Sliding back the bolt of the old oaken door, he stood in the outer air. He had not slept ; many thoughts orowded upon liim—thoughts of her whose eyes had lured him homeward. The night was calm and warm ; a dark blue, star studded sky bent down upon him. Two miles distant lay the village in whose suburbs, on a liudon-orowued hill, stood Amos Homer's mansion. He stood a moment on the broad doorstep, then passed down the grassy lane and out into the highway. Then sotting off at a brisk pace, a turn in the road soon brought him in view of Amos Homer's mansion. Every window was ablaze with light, and as he gamed a oloser proximity, he pained and leaned ngaiust the white railing which outskirtod the grounds. Plaoing one hand on the ruiliug he lightly leaped it, and stood within the grounds of the mansion. Nearing one o£ the wiudows, he looked and what he saw made his heart almost stand still. Ariadne, his plghted wife, in wedding robes. It w.;s enough. One glance told him all. His head on his breast aud bis thoughts he knew not where, he agaiu sought his home. The night passed, though it seemed it would never end. And there was no trace on his face of his struggle when lie came dowu the next morning. "Mother." he said, after breakfast, "I shall have to get away from you again. You will not think it Lord if I leave yon for Boston to-morrow. I have some orders that must be exeeut - ed before the foreign steamer sails." "But Ithoughtyou lind come to tarry here, Paul. Aud then you are sick, I know you are ; aud you will wear your self out with work." "O, never you fear, mother; I am not ill. I look pale always, now. If I have leisure, I will run up among these New Hampshire bills again in a fort night or so ; but if I am very busy I ■hull write for you to bring Mary to Boston to join me. O, yes, mother, I'll have time yet for rest and recreat oil before I go over seas again." "Again! And must you cross the Atlantic onco more ? O, my son, we do not want riches or comforts, if we are to bo divided from you. Do not go from home again. Stay with ns, Paul," urged Mrs. Dillard. "Nay, mother," said Paul, gently, but firmly, "you would not have me re main here an idler, a drone. I must return to Italy." An Italian sun was setting behind a low range of lulls that skirted a broad Roman Campagna, as two travelers, one an invalid, alighted from a dili gence at an humble kostelrie, whose brown vine-covered walls slept under the protecting shelter of a grove of drawf cedars. The invalid was an old man, the other a beautiful, sad faced woman. And that wasted, wan sufferer, and that beautitul, but palo woman, were John and Ariadne Etheridge. In all respects she had been to him a faithful wife. And so she had accom panied him across the seas to Italy, day by day attending him unweariedly with gentle fingers and tender care. But John Etheridge was a doomed man ; all that long summer day had his strength waxed fainter ; and when they lifted him carefully from the cushions and bore him within the mountain inn, even then the death angel entered l>eside him, There was one other traveler who came slowly down the hillside path and sought the hostel's shelter that night— a dark, pale man, with sketch-book in hand, and enveloped in the folds of an ample Roman cloak. And while the shadows gathered deeper and the rain pattered on the low roof, the stranger threw himself on the rude wooden bench beside the window, and with face buried in his hands seemed lost in thought or slumber. The evening woro later; the hotel keeper and his wife had sought their slumbers ; the stranger still lay wrapp ed in his cloak-folds and almost lost in the dark shadows; but in an humble inner room Ariadne Etheridge and her faithful man-servant watched the flick ering lamp of life. For an hour he dozed heavily, then the waning flame flashed up with fitful radiance; he started from his pillow and said gasp ingly : "Wife! Ariadne!" She came closer and moistened his lips with wine. "Wife, I have something to say to you before—before —" but his voice faltered. lam going—l know it," he gasped feebly, "and I must talk with you Ariadne. I have been very wicked. You remember Paul Dillard?" The bead upon his breast drooped heavier; her beautiful hand clutched his convulsively for an instant, then she lay very still again. And the man upon the bench in the outer room started to his elbow with a sudden bound, and leaned his head forward in an eager listening attitude. "My child, it is hard for an old man like me to make this confession," went on old John Etheridge. "It is hard; but harder yet to go into eternity with the stain of an ifnconfessed sin upon my soul. I have been wicked; but 1 will make what reparation lies in my power. Ariadne, listen ; I won you through fraud. I coveted you, with your youth aud beauty ; aud when it was breathed to me that you loved a poor, unknown, hum bio youth, toiling afar over the waters, the fleinl of evil sent a suggestion into my mind which I was not long in obeying. How could that poor, humble youth Htiiud iu com parison with a rich man ? I kuow that such were your father's wishes ; but I knew that such, however much they might influence your decision, would uover your heart. Aud so I followed the evil devices of my own brain, and coined a lie and spread the rumor that, ,iu bis far off homo your by lover had woood another. But it was all false —all false—my poor child. And when you, iu your youth and beauty, camo to my arms, and the first flush of triumph was over, when day by day I saw how meekly and uncomplainingly you sacri ficed yourself to all an old man's whims and caprices, then repentance came, and O how bitUr! Disease came. Ariadne as God is my witness, I joyed more than I sorrowed when I felt its chill fingers at my heart. The physi cians sent me abroad ; we came here, to Italy. You did not know how often I sent my imagination hero before me, and built a structure whoso walls would be reared above my grave ! For, my child," aud his voice sank to a whisper, and he lifted her face with one thin white hand, "you will obey me ; he is here, aud by aud by your paths will cross each other. Ariadne, you will be liappy yet!" Then came au unbroken silence in that death chamber; and the man in tbe dark kitchen breathed convulsively as lie crept nearer the door. "Yes, you will be happy yet," gasped the dying man slowly. "And now I am going—forgive. Your hand my child here, on my heart. God is good ! 1 have but one wish in this death hour —if I could have brought you together— you two, whom I wronged so. If Paul Dillard were only here !" "Yes, god Is good ! Paul Dillard is here !" camo iu husky whispers ; and as the pale man staggered in from the outer room, Ariiulue fell forward, with a faint scream, upon the breast of her dying husband. What need Lave wo to record more ? Can you not see how tbe reparation of the dead was accepted ?—bow, bcr per iod of mo.u ruing over, Ariadne Ethe ridge, in that warm Southland, gave her hand where her heart had long been pledged, and fully redeemed her early prophecy by its fulfilment ? Napoleon Just Before Waterloo. The Emperor tent for me (after his re turn from Elba) and kept me with him about a quarter of an hour. As this was mj last interview with Napoleon, I will give the particulars of it: ••Well," he said, as soon as he saw me. •'well, have you made good selections? Can I rely on the men you have appoint ed?" *1 have done my best," 1 answered, ••but I can not answer for them to your Majesty. The time allowed me was alto gether insufficient. I found new prefects who knew the country no better than my self. 1 avoided as far as possible making choice of men of extreme views, and 1 ex eluded all those who were notoriously such but i can answer for nothing. Besides, until either political treaties or victories have definitely pronounced for us, we can not reckon on any real success. 1 he return of the Empress to Faris would do more at this moment than all the efforts of the Commissioners to the Departments." ••You are right; I don't altogether de spair. I have sent to Vienna; 1 have en deavored to treat with Talleyrand; he will listen to nothing; he is sold to England. But," interrupting lnmself, <4 waß the Due de Biurboa still in La Vendee when you got there!" ••Ido not know," I replied, "and I made no inquiries. If he was there, it was better to give him an opportunity ol getting away than to try to detain him. 7 ' Then after a moment's silence, he re sumed; ••What was the state of public feeling in those departments?" '•lt is my duty to tell your Majesty the truth," 1 replied, "and I will not attempt to disguise it. With the exception of some parts of La Vendee, where it was entirely against the Bourbons, and almost revolutionary, in other places,and especial ly among the higher classes, it is, if not hostile, at least cold and indifferent. As for the lower classes, they seem actuated rather by a return to republican maxims than by any other sentiment; and if they attach themselves to the name of your Majesty, it is because they lake it as a guarantee of the liberties which they claim and which you have promised to restore. But I must not conceal that uearly every where women are your declared enemies, and in France they are adversaries not to be despised." • Oh, 1 know that," he exclaimed, "I am told of it on all sides. I never admit ted women into cabinet secrets; I never suffered them to meddle with the Govern ment; and they are now avenging them selves. The conversation, during which, as his custom was, he bad never ceased walking up and down, then dropped, and after a silence of a few minutss, I was dismissed. I left the. nudience chamber with an un satisfactory impression. The Emperor was no longer what 1 had seen him form erly, He was moody. The confidence that of old had manifested itself in his speech, the tone of c nnmand, the lofty ideas that directed his words and gestures, had disappeared. He seemed already to feel the hand of adversity that was soon to weigh so heavily upon him; he had al - ready ceased to reckon on his destiny. —James Gorden Bennett gave a ball in Paris recently that cost bim about $1,500. The dancers tarried until six o'clock, Th Wthr Burtan. "I sco," says Mrs, Bpoopendyke, as she lai:l the paper down, "I see that we are to hove rising, followed by falling barometer with northeast to south went wind*, aud higher or lower temperature, with clesr or partly cloudy weather, and light rains. How Is it they contrive to tell so accurate, ly about the weather? Do you under* stand it?' 1 "Certainly, * replied Mr. ttpoopendyke, "tboy do it by observation. They have a man out West observing, ana a man down East who observe*, and fellows observing around in different parts of the country. They put all their observations together, aud we kuow just what it's going to do." "1 suppose that's what makes the wind so different every morning, when one man's temperature is rising, another's is failing; and wueu one is clear, all the rest are partly cloudy with " "No, they ain't. Each observer sends in what he observes, and then the chief makes up his nnud from those reports what the weather will be. Can't you un derstaud?'' "Perfoctly," said Mrs. Spoopendyke, rubbing her elbows. "If one sees the ba rometer rising, and another sevs it falling, anu lt'a cold in one place and cloudv in auotber, tbey all say so. But I should think when one hits it right the others wouid t)u awful mad." "What would they get mad about? de manded Mr. bpoopendyke. "You don t imagine that tbey all get together and fight it out, do you? Tbey take the weather from different pcints and combine it, and tliea they parcel it out among the different regious. For instance, if it snows m the East and warm in the West, they strike an average for the lake region. Now. what's the average between heat and suow?" "Bain," cried Mrs. Spoopendyke, de lighted with her ssgacity. "I sec how it is now. They take what is usually going on, and eqalize it all over the couutry. I'm glad the Democrats weren't elected, '• "What have they got to do with it' Do you think a barometer is a politician?" "No. hut if the Democrats had been elected tbey would havs had to change it all around, wouldn't they? And the South would have got the best share. Tout's what the Ucpub ." "Dod gast the Republicans! They've got ne more to do with it than you have. You've got an idea, that they throw the barometers and observers into one end of a steam engine and the weather comes out of the other. They don't make weather. The weather makes itself. It's the only sclf-supportiug thing about the Govern ment. And these signal men only watch it, and tell what it's going to be." "1 supp >se when these observers all get together and talk it over, that it is called a storm center, isn't it?" "That's ill" shouted Mr. Spoopendyke. "You've got the weather, now. All you want is your name painted on the handls and the spring broken, to be an utnberella They don' ttalk it over; they tell what they know, and it is fixed up in Washing ton. They agree on it here, and then they telegraph it all over the country. It is generally made in Manitoba and then sent down here." "Ilow wide is it?" asked Mrs. Spoop endyke, deeply interested. "Because if it ain't too big, I should thiuk they might stop it,'' —"Wide? It's about a feet widel Just a feet. Just about as wide a* your measly information. How're they going to stop it? S'pose it travels on a railroad tram? Think it the sleeping car conduoter because there's only an upper berth left? Well it don't. It hires a horse. That's the way it oomca. It hires a horse!" howled Mr. Bpoopendyke, "and the only way to stop it is to build a fence abound it, There was some talk about burning the last one, but the wood was wet." "Well, my dear, you needn't get angry about it," said Mrs. Bpoopendyke, sooth ingly. "I only thought there might be some way they could make some arrange ments about it. 1 think storm centres are horrid, and the observer in Manitoba must have a hard tine. If he has to observe much in the winter, he must bo nearly frazen." "Does any human being know what you're thinking about?" raved Mr. Spoop endyke. "Do you s'pose he goes around with a spy glass looking behind rocks? Think he prowls aronnd all night with a dod gasted lantern, hunting up storm cen tres? Got an idea that he runs around under the bed with a broom, like a measly married woman 1 know of, and when he catches a centre, pulls him out by the leg and observes him? He don't do anything of the sort. He has 'em in to spend the evening with him, and gets 'em drunk, and finds out what they're up to. Under stand it now? All you want is to whirl around twice and squeak nights to be a weather vane." "I didn t know how they did it," quoth Mrs. Bpoopendyke, cc mplacently, "but I se • now. If the Prohibitionists bad been elected he couldn't have done tbat, and we would have been in a bad way. Now that I understand it, I'll learn tbe indica tions every morning How does a barom eter rise and fall? "With lack-screws, dod gast it!" thun dered Mr. Bpoopendyke. "Sometimes they haul jt up with a stump machine; then they drap a carpenter's shop on it. Once in Dakota it got so high that they had to dig a hole and ram it down with a pile driver. Got it now? Begin to see through it? What you need is a box of pills and a conundrum to be an almanac!" And Mr. Spoepeudyae jumpen out of the house like a conical shot, and banged the door after him. "I never quite understood it before," soliloquized Mrs. Bpoopendyke, specula ting whether she would put the plume on the side or back part of her hat; "but now that he's made it plain to me, I wonder they don't observe by steam. It must be awful hard on the poor men." And, hav ing decided about the plume, Mrs. Bpoop endyke filled her mouth with pins, and crawled under the bed in search of her thimble. —The gold yield of the Nov* Scotian mines from 1862 to 1880 inclusive vraa, by the official reports, valued at $6,212,- 325. —New York state is first for the past year in number of killings. It has had 161, of which 47 were committed in the city. —Vanderbilt's great ball cost $20,- 000. Population from Abroad. Tbs population of ths United States was increased about one per cent, lest year by immigration abroad. Statistics sre not not st band tor other ports than New Fork, but ths total number of arrivals was prob able something over half s millios. About 440,000 Immigrants arrived at tbia port, or nearly nine tenths of the whole num ber. The general character of the ar rivals is said to be better than ths average of the previous years On the whole there is no doubt that the addition to our popu lation Is of real value. Considerably mors than one-third of the immigrants landing at Castle Garden were Germans, a very large proportion of whom were industrious and frugal agricultural laborers, seeking homes in the West. This class as a whole, contributes an orderly and law abiding element which is readily and rapidly as similated. The Irish come next in order of numbers, but wsre only about one-third as numerous as the Germane. They furnish a valuable working force, though they are rather addicted to congregating in the cities. The English come next to the Irish in numbers, and, notwithstanding their attachment to inherited ideas, they almost invariably beorne good citizens of our free Republic. Those who oorne over for the purpose of establishing themselves in colonies are, Indeed,of a rather superior class, and the fact that they are of the same blood with the founders of the first colonies on these shores gives promise of a ready assimilation with the descendants of their own ancestors. Sweden has con tributed more than 35,000 to the arrivals, and Norway has added about 14.000. They are for the most part an industrious and peaceable people, and much the same may be said of 'he Scotch and Welsh. The most undesirable of our immigrants in re cent years have come from the South of Europe, and of these the Italians are most numerous, nearly 14 000 of whom arrived at C&sile Garden during the year past. They are very apt to herd together in the large c ties and recruit the lowest ranks of the laboring population. This is due in some meaure to the fact that the immigration ot criminals and paupers and worthless people generally from Italy has been ratner encouraged of late. Toe hordes of Asia poured in upon our East ern shore to the number of something less than 400, all told, but San Francisco and the Pacific coast are yet to be heard from. Not only has the addition to our popula tion from abroad been valuable in itself, but with it has come a moderate accession of accumulated capital. The amount jt this cannot be ascertained, as the immi grants are under no obligation to tell how much they have, and most of them make their exchanges on the other side before embarking. It is estimated that they paid $5 000,000 last year for railroad transpor tation after leaving Castle Garden, and the Superintendent believes that the total amount of cash brought with them was not less tnan $11,000,000. This is probably a very low estimate. The destination of the immigrant is no less interesting than their origin. They still flock in large numbers to the Northwest, where many settle on i&rms and aid in developing the untouched resources of the land, thereby aiding in the most affective manner to in crease the produetion of wealth as well as the population of our country. Others soek mining and manufsc'uring districts on account of the characters of their pre vious industrial experience. Those who sink to the bottom of the social strata in the cities and become a source of trouble probably form no larger proportion of the whole than that of natives of foreign parentage who find the same level. The capacity of the Southern States for ab sorbing foreign immigrants has not yet been fairly tested, though many are seek ing the vast unsettled areas of Texas, and the curreat is gradually percolating into other parts of that section of the country. There is certainly nothing alarming even te the most timid in the great flow of population from abroad which has been going on during the last two years. Though unprecedented In absolute volume it bears a constantly decreasing proportion to the entire population. According to the census of 1880 we had then 6,579.048 foreigners in a population of 60,155,785, or less than one eighth of the whole. The lacrcase of population for the pre ceding decado was about thirty per cent., or an average of three percent, a year,and even in 1881 the accession from abroad was only about one percent. Considering this fact and the rapid transformation which is cons'antly going on, as well as the general good quality of nine-tenths of the immigration, there is certainly a very large percentage of gain for us as a Na tion ia the increase to our population that comes from over the sea.— jV- Y. Time*. Ullliz'ug Rough Ground. Oa many farms there are portions of land that cannot be plowed without great difficulty on account of ravines or stones. They may he seeded to grass and used for pasturage, but it is hard to cut the grass that grows on them. This broksn land may generally be utiliaed to excellent ad vantage by planting it to crops that require considerable room. Grapes do well on rocky and broken land, if sufficient pains be taken to prepare the places where the vinos are *o stand. Quite a large hole should be excavated and partially filled with manure aud loose earth. A rocky soil is ordinarily warm aud well drained by the spaces between the stones. Many of the best vineyards in Europe are located on land so broken aud rocky that it cannot be made to produce paying crops of grain, grass or potatoes. Tomatoes can also be profitably raised on broken land. The vines require considerable space in which to spread their branohea. Thero is some trouble in preparing the hills, but the j warm location aud good drainage will gen erally insure large crept that ripen early in the season. Pumpkins, melona and squash es may be planted on broken and rocky land to most excellent advantage. As the hills should be about ten feet apart, but little difficulty will be found in makinr them. Excavations can be made with the spade or pick if necessary, and nearly fill ed with suitable manure and fine earth. The large space between the hills will require little attention except to remove the weeds which will not be very trouble some in a poor soil. If a farmer has a large iraci of broken and rocky land he can scarcely do better than to plant it to forest trees, giving a preference to those that will produce nuts. Maou. There are oertaiu forms of mania which are postively uaelul. Some persons have an insane propensity to explore strange and dangerous regions, not so mueh for the fame of the thing, or be cause of any strong desire to benefit the world; they are the victims of an irresti ble impulse to penetrate the ice-bound shores of the Arctic, or to hunt ostriches in Patagonia, or to rub noses with the sa ble kings of Central Africa. In carrying out their schemes, these men will expend any amount of money and endure any amount of suffering, and the world at large gets the benefit of their traveling mania. We are much indebted for the increase of our knowledge to naturalists, who also endure much fatigue in hunting but terflies and birds, and collecting shells aid snakes and sea-weeds, and sorting out the rocks of which the earth is made; all which they would not have been like ly to do if they had not had a mania in that diroction Then there are others who have an insatiable appetite for ferreting out and collecting eld books and pamphlets and manuscripts—not that they ever ex pect to read them, but simply for the pleasure of the hunt. They rummage garrets and about book-stalls day after day, and dig into all sorts of crannies and holes, and attend every horary sale, not always for any special love of literature, but because they have a mania for col lecting; and if they can get hold of an old book which nobody else has, their cup is full to overflowing. Rich treasures havs thus been brought to light, for which scholars have great cause to be thankful—rare gems are sometimes found am mg the rubbish which these men rake together. The coin collector is one of the most indefatigable of human beings. The in* trmsio value of a coin is not a matter of the slightest account, and its histori cal value may not be especially regarded if he can only beat everybody else in the size and rarity of his collection. The autograph mania is still more general, and when it develops itself, not merely in accumulating the signatures of ordinary men and women, but rath er authentio documents in the hand writing of the great personages who have figured in history, it is a very re spectable hobby. The mama for collecting postage stamps, which of course is quite modern cannot be regarded as of so high an or der, the likeneasness of great people with which they are adorned have not much attraction as works of art, and the main charm depends upon the complet ness of the collection; if one or two stamps are wanting in the Austrian or any other list, its value is very much impaired. There is, to besure, a certain degree of interest in studying the style in which the taste of different nations manifests itself In their postage stamps; for even here the peculiarities of the several por tions of the earth can be more or less distinctly traced. The rage for old porcelain or pottery, or what is known as the "ceramic fever" prevails just at present with great force together with a passion for ancient things in general. Venerable relics that had long been stowed away in remote places as of no further service, are now brought to light; ohairs, buffets, chests of drawers broken-winded bellows, andirons, brass fenders, and warming pans, are all in great demand. Antique glass and crockery sre equal ly sought for and rich treasures of ce ramio art are sometimes found among the old kitchen cups and platter?. There are persons who have a mania for rings and bracelets, and chains and sleeve-buttons, and neck-laces and fancy pins, and jewelry In general; and when they appear in public, they look as if they were employed to advertise the goods of some thriving gold-smitli. Fashion, in all its extreme forms, may be regarded as a sort of mania. A little while ago, all the ladies expanded their dress with steel and whalebone, until it took the form of an umbielia, and now the balloon has collapsed and the um brella is closed again. Structures are sometimes made te grow upon the top of the head, archi tectural, botanical, entomological, or otherwise, that are very suggestive of the insane asylum. It is a very ancient mania that mani fests itself in this way, and it is found all over the world—savages often treat ing their heads and hair after a more elaborate style than anything we are capable of doing. Different people are marked by a ma nia for some particular kind of game— croquet, lawn-tennis, polo, or perhaps the Scotch golf. Manias of one sort or another break out in a very mysterious way. They cannot be explained, but we are carried away by them none the less for this. The infection of example is irresistible. We run after certain things simply because our neighbors do; and they run after the same because we do. If there is melancholy in the air, we feel it. If there is any mania abroad we are in danger of catching it. NO 18.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers