Millheim Journal. (Millheim, Pa.) 1876-1984, May 04, 1882, Image 1

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    VOL. LYI.
Fashionable Barber,
Next Door to JOUBXAL Store,
c. 6. MoMILLEN,
Good Sample Room on First Floor.
Bom to and from all Trains. Special
late* to witnesses and jurors. S-i
(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.
Physician and Surgeon,
Office In 2d story of Tomlinsoa't Gro
cery Store,
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.
Office opposite Court House, Bellefonte, Pa.
C. T. Alexander. C. M. Bower.
Office in O&rm&n's new building.
Office on Allegheny Street.
northwest corner ot Diamond.
11 i: WTnos,
Offlre on Allegheny Street, 2 doors west of office
formerly occupied by the late firm of Yocum A
Practices In all the courts of Centre County.
Spec al attention to Collections. Consultations
In German or English.
All bus'ness promptly attended to. Collection
of claims a speciality.
J. A. Beaver. J W. Gephart.
Office on Alleghany Street, North of High.
Consultations In English or German. Offloe
in Lyon's Building, Allegheny Street.
Office on Allegheny street, two doors west of
office formerly occupied by the firm of ocum A
ile piililete giiwal
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,
"You will bo famous yet,Paul,believe
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
"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
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,
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-
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
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
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
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
*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
••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
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
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
"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
"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
"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
—The gold yield of the Nov* Scotian
mines from 1862 to 1880 inclusive vraa,
by the official reports, valued at $6,212,-
—New York state is first for the past
year in number of killings. It has had
161, of which 47 were committed in the
—Vanderbilt's great ball cost $20,-
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.
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.
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
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
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.