VOL. LVI.
H ARTER,
AUCTIONEER,
MILLHEIM, FA.
J C. STRINGER,
Fa all ion able Barber,
Next Door to JOURNAL Store,
MILLHKIH, PA.
JJROCKERHOFF HOUSE,
ALLEGHENY STREET,
BELLEFONTE, - - - PA-
C- O. McMILLEN,
PROPRIETOR.
Good Sample Room on First Floor.
fl9*Free Buss to And from all Train*. Special
rata* to witness** and Jurors. 4-1
IRVIN HOUSE.
(Moat Central Hotel In the Cityj
Corner MAIN and JAY Streets,
Lock Haven, Pa.
s. WOODS CALWKLL, Proprietor.
Good Sample Rooms for Commercial
Travelers on first floor.
jQR. D. H. MINGLE,
Physician and Surgeon,
MAIN Street, MILLHKIM, Pa.
JOHN F. HARTER,
PRACTICAL DENTIST,
Office In id story of Tomlinsoa's Gro
cery Store,
On MAIN Street, MILI.HKIM, Pa.
BV KIMTFR,
FASHIONABLE BOOT A SHOE MAKER
Shop next door to Foote's Store, Main St.,
BiKrta, Shoes and Gaiters made to order, and sat
isfactory work guaranteed. Repairing done prompt
ly and cheaply, aud in a neat style.
8. R. PRALK. H. A. MCKEB.
PEALE & MeKEE,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
Office opposite Court House, Bellefonte, Pa.
C. T. Alexander. C. M. Bower.
A BOWER,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW.
BELLEFONTE, FA.
Office in Carman's mew building.
JOHN B. LINN,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Offloe on Allegheny Street.
OLEMENT DALE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Northweet corner of Diamond.
11. HAKTHUI,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Office on Allegheny Street, S doors west of office
formerly occupied by the late Arm of Yocum A
Hastings.
C. HEINLE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BELLEFONTE, FA.
Practices in all the courts of Centre County.
Spec al attention to collections, consultations
in German or English.
F. REEDEB,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BELLEFONTE, PA.
All bus'□ ess promptly attendtd to. Collection
of claims a speciality.
J. A. Beaver. J W. Gephart.
JGEAVER A GEPHART.
ATTORNEYS AT LAW.
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Office on Alleghany Street, North of High.
Y° CUM & HARSHBERGER,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW.
BELLEFONTE, PA.
S. KELLER,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BELLEFONTE, PA
Consultations in English or German. Office
In Lyon'o Building, Allegheny Street.
"p. B HASTINGS. W. F. KEXDKR. *
JJASTINGS A REEDER,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
BELLEFONTE, PA
Offloe on Allegheny street, two doors east of the
offle occupied by the late firm of > Hast
es. Sfi-tT
lie pilllrii! SomrmtL
MY MOTHERS GRAVE.
The treuihUtiß dew-drop* fell
Upon the stunting flowets; like star* at rest
The stare ahme gloriously; and all,
Save tne, are bleat.
Mother, T love thy grave!
The violet with Its blossoms, blue and unlit,
Waves o'er thy hoad; wht-n shall a wave
Above thy child?
'Tls a sweet flower, yet ruust
Its bright leaves to the coming to npest iww !
Dear mother, lis thine emblem; dust
Is on thy brow.
And I could love to die;
To leave untasted life's dark, bitter streams—
By thee, as erst In childhood, lie
And share thy dreams.
But I must linger here
To stain the plumage of my sinless years,
Aud mourn the hop s to childhood dear.
With bitter tears.
Aye, I must linger here,
A lonely branch upon a withered tree.
W hose last frail leaf, untune.y sere,
Wsut dowu will thee.
Oft from life's withered b wer,
In sMU communion with the past, 1 turu
Aud muss on taee, the only flower
In memory's urtL
And whsu the evening pale
Bows, like a mourner, on the dim blue wave,
1 stray to hear the night-winds wail,
Around thy grave.
LILT* WORD OF HONOR.
The "Green Dragon, "at Orpington, as
sumed to bo an inn, wits really little
more than a wayside stopping place.
Mr. Hunter, landlord and proprietor, was
therefore not a little surprised aud tiur
riod when, upon a raw Octolier after
noon, a young man presented himself at
the bar of the "Green Dragon," aud ask
ed languidly if he could be aocommoda
ed with a bed and a sitting-room.
"A bed. sir ?" replied Mr. Hunter, a
big man with red face and gray hair ;
"yes 1 think we can manage to give you
a bod."
"And a sittiug-room?"eehoed the land
lord, in a tone of one who is considering
some great undertaking; "one minute if
you please sir."
And Mr. Hunter disappeared into the
little room adjoining the bar, there to
hold counsel with some second persons,
the upshot being that, in a few minutes,
Mrs. Hunter and a few Hunters just out
of the crawling state, issued forth, bear
ing respectively working materials,socks
in process of being mended, in whistles
and decapitated dolls.
"You can have this room all to your
self sir," said Mr. Hunter, triumphantly
"You really must not let me disturb
you," replied the traveler.
"Don't you mention it," replied the
landlord, in a tone which was at once
genial and confidential; "we would not
turn a euiitomor away from our dooru.
You see we do not have much parlor
company."
"And this is the only room yon have
that is disengaged?"
"Well, yes, sir; this is the only room
at present. Susan! coals fur the gentle
man's fire."
The traveler was glad enough to enter
the apartment and to draw close to the
fire the one dilapidated arm-chair.
Arthur Seton, barrister by profession,
and a writer from choice, was not really
more than thirty, though he looked con
siderably older; for the dark hair and
beard were streaked with gray, and the
face, with its regular handsome features
wore a look of intense mentsil weari
ness.
For some time he leaned indolently
back, his hands clasped behind his head;
at last he rose and took from his bag a
locket, and diary, which he opened, and
availing himself of pen and ink which
stood upon the table, made the following
entry;
"October 17, J 874.—G0t up late.
Called on the Brains tones; George was
out. Had a pleasant chat with Annie;
went like a fool to Richmond, and like a
fool, haunted tho well-house. It looked
just the same as in the old, dear days;
but I heard children playing in the gar
den. The house I believe is let to city
people. Came back to London; dined
at the Pall Mall; went to the club. Got
back to chambers late; wrote a column
'Review.' A weary, weary day. Shall
I never know a moment's forgetful
nesH?"
He drew then from the leaves of the
diary a letter written in a delicate hand
and addressed, "Arthur Seton, Esq., 12
Gray's Inn." This letter he regarded
with a long, sad, laying look; then, rest
ing his head on his hand, he read it
through very slowly. It ran as follows:
"MY DBAR ARTHUR: —If yon will be
so suspicions, so jealous and exciting, I
cannot see how we are ever to be happy.
Faith without works is dead, and love
withont faith is no blessing, but a weary
burden. lam tired of cross words and
looks. Some women, I believe, like the
feverish excitement of quarrels, but I
only wish for peace. This miserable
jealousy is quite unworthy of you. Do
try and put it from you; and remember
that love, once wounded, is sometimes
hurt past hope of recovery. I received
your article quite safely, but I cannot
apeak about it now. You have made me
too sad, too weary, and even a little in
dignant. Yours affectionately,
ALICE CLAREFIELD. "
He replaced the letter, closed the di
ary, took up his pipe and began smok
ing. The early part of this day had
been fine and mild, but toward the after
noon the sky grew leaden and the wind
shifted to the northeast. Now the wind
was rising and the rain was falling—a
cold, penetrating, impetuous, determined
rain.
For want of something better to do,
Seton began to write a letter; but he
made slow work of it. For minutes to
; gether he sat holding the pen listlessly,
leaning his arm wearily upon the table
listening, as we all listen when alone, to
what sonnds may be going on near us,
from a feeling that is not curiosity, but
more overpowering.
I Suddenly what mn9t have been a very
light vehicle dashed swiftly down the
road and drew up at the door of the
"Green Dragon" while the voice of the
pew comer beoame audible, Seton how*
MILLHEIM, PA., THURSDAY, JUNE 16,1882.
over,could only catch a few diHOonneoted
words, such us "caught in the ruin—del -
iotito—shelter -Chiselhurst —closed car
riage. "
Then the door opened, the landlord,
presented himself upon the threahohl,
and said, in a very pointed manner:
"If you please, sir, a young ladv,
driving over to Sevenoaka in a light
open trap, has been call edit in the rain,
and her servant wants to know if 1 can
give her a sitting-room while he drives
hack to Chisellinrst for a closed car
riage. "
"And this is the only one you have?"
rejoined Sexton. "Oh, ask her in by all
means. However, lam sorry the room
smells so of smoke," he added, as he
knocked the ashes from his pipe.
"Don't mention it sir, and thank you
very much," replied the landlord.
In another moment the door opened
again, and the unexpected intruder en
tered -a lady tall and graceful, having
a pale, Madouua-li&e face, and golden
hair shining like an aureole round a cla
sio head.
Seton's face had grown white to the
very lips, and his voice quivered percep
tibly as, extending his hand, he said:
"This is a very unexpected meeting."
"Very unexpected," echoed the lady,
removing her wet mantle, and sitting
down on the leather sofa. The recogni
tion had IHHUI mutual, but women, as a
general thing, have more self possession
than the sterner sex.
"Let me recommend this chair," said
Seton, laying his hand upon the one
fr.m which he had just risen,
"No, thank you; I prefer sitting away
from the fire."
"I am sorry the room should smell so
of tobacco," olwerved Seton, after a
pause, "but, you see, I did not expect
the pleasure of a visitor."
She smiled a rather forced smile by
way of answer, and Seton folded elabo
rately and put into an envelop a blank
sheet of paper.
"The country is very beautiful around
here," he observed writing his own name
with great care upop the envelope,
"Wo have only been back from the
continent six weeks," she observed, after
a pause. "Mamma has taken a house
near Chiselhurst. I was driving over to
Sevenoaka this morning, and I was
caught in the rain, and induced to ask
for shelter here."
"And how is Mrs. Clearfield?"
"Mamma is qvito well, thank you;"
Then after a pause, "Are you stopping
here?"
"Hardly,"said Seton, with an assump
tion of gayety in his tone, "but I'll tell
you all alamt it. My friends kindly
took it into their hemls that 1 was stick
ing too closely to work—that 1 wanted
fresh air and exercise—so they bound
me over on my word of honor to walk
from London to Hastiusa in a week. I
nctjoimutr in everything lIOW, Ol
course, acquiesced in this, ami this is
my first day of hard labor and imprison
ment."
"Lilt you used—" l>egau the lady,then
she colored a little and seemed unwilling
to finish her sentence; "you used to be
so fond of walking."
"But a man changes a good deal in
three years," he replied, wearily.
It wonld weary you, reader, to set
down hero the dreary commonplaces
with which these two tried to lreguile
the time for over an hour. At last they
took refuge in sileuco, while the wind
roared, and the rain lashed the window,
the dnsk came on prematurely, ami
Seton looking out ou the cheerless pros
pect, shivered as with the cold. Then
the lady rose very quietly, stirred the
fire iuto a blaze, and resumed her seat
on the sofa.
"No, you shouldn't really," said Seton
not turning round, however, and with a
look of pain on his face. It is wonderful
what suffering some small, commonplace
word or action may cause us. What
vistas of possible joys may they not open
up to us!
"I suppose tho carriage will soon be
back," said Alice, presently, and speak
ing witli effort; "our coacbman drives
very fast."
"Yes; your term of imprisonment will
soon be up." rejoiued Seton, resting his
arms upon the mantelpiece, and examin
ing with critical interest a photograph
l>efore him.
"How the time passes!" said Alice in
a low voice, as if speaking to herself.
Tben, with a sudden energy, "I cannot
tell when we shall meet again. Before
we part, answer me one question. You
are looking worn and weary—are you
happy?"
Now ho stood be/ore her and through
the firelight his eyes flashed on her, as
he said, in a low, harsh voice:
"From your li]>s that question is an
insult."
"Of which we need not fear the repe
tition," she rejoined, with cutting for
mality.
"No, it can't end like this," he went
on. "Do you know,ever since you have
been hero, I have bitten my lips through
and through to keep tliom from spea
king of the past ? Tliis meeting was
not of my Becking, and it seems to me
unmanly to take advantage of this op
portunity. "
"We are sometimes so much mis
taken," she said, hurriedly, but her
words were hardly audible, and ho con
tinued:
"Alice, you have treated me ba<lly.
On that day, now throe years ago, when
I gave you my love, and believed in
yours, I was frank with you. I told you
how wild and irrognjar my life had been
and how full of faults I was. You re
claimed me--you transformed my days
—you made life pure and fairjaud then,
because some thorn in my love hurt you
you threw it all away and left me to
perish miseiably." She would have in
terrupted him, but he silenced her with
a gesture, and went on: "And now when
we meet after three years, you ask me if
I am happy. If I loved you once I shall
love you lorever. Do I look happy?"
"I thiak there were faults on both
sides?" she said quietly.
"Yes, there were," he replied: "but I
was reading your last letter only to-day.
Oh, how terribly bitter it was!"
"And have you forgotten your answer
to that letter! she said passionately her
voioe quivering and her breast heaving.
"I don't remember it werd for word,"
he answered quickly; "I kuow it was
written on the impulse of the moment."
"But I have it by heart." Then,very
slowly: "You said if your love, in its
heart and strength, was a little exciting,
mine was cold and tideloss; in fact, no
love, only a cold, sluggish affection. You
almost thought 1 was right, and that we
could not be happy. I am naturally
proud," she went on, "but a womna with
less pride than I could not have acted
differently. Only one course was loft to
me—to be silent"
"Well—it is all over now; wo shall
prubably never moot again."
"You won't bike my friendship,
then?"
"No, thank you; you are very gener
ous but I do not want ttiat nift."
He drew himself wearily into a chair
and for a time there was silence. Hope
is so subtle, so intangible, that we are
only aware of iti existence when it has
ceased to be. Arthur Beton looked upou
himself as a man without hope. It seemed
to him that his lifo could not be more
desolate than it was, yet who sle 11 say
what foeliug, of which he was not directly
conscious, may have sustained him dur
ing the hist three years? Now everything
ucerned goue—there was nothing loft for
him but death.
Presently a carriage eamo down the
road; carriage lamps flashed through the
dusk, and grew stationary opposite the
window. Mr. Hunter bust ed in and an
nounced that the carriage had oome for
the young ludy, and had done the dis
tance wonderfully quick. Teen the door
shut, and they were alone together
again.
Soitly and distinctly Seton heard ma
speak his name, "Arthur!" but he dtd
uot move. It seemed to ltiui that he would
keep back all his love, clinch fast his
heart till she was goue, and then die
swiftly of the pain.
"Arthur, lum waiting, dear. Won't
you come? Are you not going to forgive
me?"
He groped his way toward her. She
stretched out her hand and drew him to
her. Then he bent down: she raised her
face, and the hearts and lips so leng
disunited came t 'gether iu a long pas
sionate kiss. Ho knelt down by lier,her
head sunk i pon his sho lders, and for
many minutethey remained thus, lost
in loves profound peace and mystery
And the corks continued to p p.and tue
wagoners on their way to London tramp
ed iu and out of the bar, and good nights
were exchanged between customers and
landlord, ami as Arthur folded Alice's
mantle around her, she said shyly:
"You are coming back witli me to
see mamma, are you not?"
"May 1?" he auawered joyfully?"
So the bedroom which Mrs. Hunter
had been preparing all the afternoon ami
of which she was uot a little proud, re
mained unoccupied;, but the payment
was lav sll and th <*•>*'* llitvir tvub lint
regretted.
"Ob! that never-to-be-forgotten ride
to Chiselhurat through the wild, windy
evening! The ram ceased, ami strange
voices were abroad in the wind, singing
jubilantly over love rerisen and redeem
ing. Tbe clouds drifted away, an the
pure, sweet moonlight quivered over wet
fields aud trees, and seemed love's ben
ediction.
The reade r is left to imagine the ar
rival home. Arthur was a favorite with
Mrs. Cl&refield, and iu the old dsys oi
quarrels would always take his part.
When dinner was disposed of Mrs Clare
field pleaded household duties and went
to her room. Thyre she sat down before
the fire and wept, dear soul, over the
happiness of her children. Down stairs
these two were very quiet. To them
love was a solemn thing, and they were
silent lovers. The moments went swiftly
on,
Presently Alios said, as she looked up
in Arthur's face:
"You are not going to continue your
walk to Hastings, this week!"
He answered with a smile:
"But, dear, I liave pledged my word
of honor to do so."
"I command you break it,"
He oid so: but none of his frr uds
brought it as an accusation against him
that he for once in his life had broken
his word of honor.
Frovldenc* or Clisnco.
A leading merchant, a very nervous
man, who had directed liis mind more
to the sale of dry goods than intellectual
cultivation, had a ticket to hear Mr.
Emerson given liira.wnioL he improved,
and sat without moving amuse e till the
close, apparently delighted. The lec
ture was upon •'Chance," in which the
lecturer took almost if not quite evau
gelical ground regarding mysterious
providences which aontrol human affairs
though not, maybe, in the same terms.
Chance, liowevi r, as an agent, was at a
discount, but not an impossibility, and
lull of the beautiful parts which he had
comprehended, the dry-goods man next
day was enthusiastic in his explanation.
•'Well," sa'd he to a friend, "I had a
treat,last night,let me tell you." "What
was it?" "Oh, Jim Gates gave me a
ticket to hear George B. Emerson lec
ture." "You mean Balph W. Emerson,
don't you!" "Yes, that's what I said.
'T was capital." "What was the snb
joot?" " 'Chance,' and the way he
handled it was masterly. His illustra
tions were very fine. For instance, a
ship on the sea with her sails blown
away, her rudder unshipped, tiie sea
making a clear breach over her, and ar
riving in port, saved, through it all. It
was grand." "Well, did he show how
she was saved?" "Yes, he proved to a
dot that 'twas either by Providence or
chauoe, but 1 couldn't exactly make
out which."
HOGS require free access to water in the
summer time. If tliey can have a place to
bathe or wallow in, it is beuefldal 10 them
as it cools and cleanses the skin- Mad is
not filth; it is a good dis nfectant and health
ful. Some times mrd baths have been
found useful as medicinal treatment for
siak people
I'erfoctlv Satisfactory.
The next man was a tall, bow-back
ed, long-faced chap who had worried
through the winter without an overcoat
and perhaps without changing his linen.
"No use to ask if this charge of vag
rancy is true," remarked his Honor, at
Chicago, as fie surveyed the prisoner,
"Not a bit of use, Judge; you know
it's false," was the ready reply.
"What! Do you deny that yon are a
vag?"
"Certainly I do!"
•'Then what are you?"
"A gentleman and a speculator,
sir. If you'll give mo a few minutes of
your valuable time 111 make the most
satisfactory explanations of my present
appearance and financial embarrass
ment "
"Go ahead."
"Well, sir, my name is Rhoderio De
Langley. To begin with, no vagrant
owned such a name. lam a speculator
in graiu, bonds, silver stock and other
things. When I make a strike I dress
like a Prince and live high. When I
lose I sleep in the alleys aud cut my ex
penses close. My last speculation was
a loss; therefore 1 am economizing."
"What was your last speculation?"
"Four hundred shares at ten dollars
each in an invention to hatch fish by
steam. My partner ran away with all
the funds and left me flat. In thirty days
I shall bo on my feet again.'
"How?"
"1 am after one hundred shares ill
Union Pacific. They are down to hard
pan and must react. Give me thirty
days aud I will be iu clover again."
"I'll give you sixty," said tho Court,
after a pause.
"Good ! I am a thousand times
obliged. Everything is perfectly satis
factory."
'•yes—sixty days in the Work House!
April showers will be invigorating the
earth when you come out."
"That was a base trick," said the
prisoner, as he fell back, aud when otil
of ear shot o* the Court he told Bijali
that if be lived to serve out his sixty
days he would send his HoDor an infer
nal machine aud blow him five hundred
feet high.
The l'onoat at Hume.
This tribe of Indians were taken,
rnuoh agui'ist their will. to the ludiau
Territory, in 1878, a discontented and
thoroughly broken down people. Hap
pily their wrongs and misfortunes have
been forgotten, the government has
paid theiu for their Dakota homes, and
they tire now in a comfortable, not to
say prosperous condition. Dotted here
and there over the beautiful rolling
prairie that stretches alouu the Ar
kansas, the bah Fork, andtue Chicaskiu
livers, we see the smoke curling grace
fully upward from the oozy little homes
of tho Poucas. and as approach
wo discover the Indian trans
formed mto tho less roillantic
larwer trudging aloug behind his
plow. Stopping to speak a word of en
couragement he te.'ls you, uot so much
m words, for but lew of the Poncas
speak even a little English, as by un
mistakable sign-convincing pantomime
that "he soon have lots wheat, lots
corn." Then with a dignified flourish
of the hand he points with pride to his
ohickeus, and sometimes ducks and
pigeons, his little herd of oattle often
numbering rom fifteen to thirty head,
according to the size of his family, his
ponies grazing peacefully m the dis
tance, and his neatly-wire-fenoad fields,
and smiles with a 100 of complete
satisfaction.
We enter a one-roomed dwelling. In
one corner on a bed lies a poor little
fellow with liis broken thigh, the doctor
is beside him, and like the brave soldier
that ho is, he never whimpers although
his leg is being set for the seoond time
in its encasement of plaster. The
mother is squatted among a confusion
of gay quilts and shawls, on the floor
near by and is industriously beading a
curious little bag to hold matches.
Evidently hearing us neanng her door,
with a kind of instinct that it is the pro
per thing to do, she has placed the three,
chairs of her apartment in a stiff row,
and offers us these as we enter. The
grandmother does the honors of thfh
hospitable home. She is a tall, magni
ficent specimen! of her race, perhaps
about 45 years ot age. Her dress is of
bright red strouding, and most elabo
rately trimmed with a complicated kind
of patchwork of different colored rib
bons, in fact covering the entire front
breadth of the skirt; her loose jacket is
of a deep blue, and ner wide sailor
shaped collar is also decorated with the
silk ribbons, while around her neck and
fulling below the waist are strings upon
strings of light blue and garnet beads.
Her hair is braided carefully, each fin
ger h*Ji an ample supply of nugs, and
the wrists are encircled with coils of
brass bangles. She talks to you con
stantly 111 the plaintive Southern Ponca
language, goes to a bundle wrapped
with a gailypainted ox hide and brings
forth her treasures, lou immediately
recognize in these two pictures the like
nesses of the Ponca chiefs, taken in all
their glory of Indian costume. Again
she tells you about her boy at Carlisle
and his father who was murdered a few
years ago, and this woman is Mrs. Big
I Snake. You must surely recal the
touching story told by Standing Bear
of the shooting of his brother, the
prominent chief. Big Snake. And in the
office of our commissary is pointed out
to us the very spot where he fell, and
you may see the bullet-hole in the thin
woooeu wall that marks the fatal shot.
Those were exciting times at Ponca.
The women brandished their long
knives, and Mrs. Big Snake falling in
the w agon beside the dead body of her
husband, swore vengeance on the agent,
and yelled her war whoop in his very
face. But to day she kindly welcomes
us to her home, and bids us come
again.
At the agency the Indians are busily
employed, and some have done them
selves great credit as carpenters and
blacksmiths. Others make bncks. mix
mortar, haul logs and do all the freight
ing to the agency. When you realize
that four years ago these men knew
absolutely nothing about this sort of
work, the results are truly wonderful.
But the chiefs have a great power in the
the tribe, and in this eulightened age
they use it to advance their people.
White Eagle, the head caief of the Pon
cas, is a true Indian, and a dignified
and splendid looking man. He seemed
to be thoroughly conscious of his high
position, aud always inspires one with a
certain awe, although you know him to
be literally an "ignorant savage." But
this head chief is a bright man, eloqu 'fit
aud effective in council, always politic
and always popular. He comes to
church on Suuday plainly arrayed in a
suit of bl ick broadcloth, but on other
occasions he appears arrayed, wrapped
in his chieftain's blanket of dark blue,
with here and there tufts of gaycolored
ribbons, a single eagle feather stands
out in bold contrast among his long
glossy black hair, his six-shooter thrust
into his ornamented his fancy
knife-case hung at his side, his beaded
leggins and moccasins proclaim him an
liiitian of the old traditional type.
Among the chiefs are Wuite Eagle,
Standing Buffalo, Hairy Berr, McDonald
and Frank La Fiesche and they huve
great influence among their people
Shut in Robbing a Grave.
Dr. Lenda'l, of Syracuse., New York,
was found near that place recently ly
ing in an opeu meadow, witli a bullet
wound iu the centre of hu forehand,
penetrating to the brain. The spot
where the yonng man was found is
about one hundred feet from the oeme
tery where the dead are interred from
the Onondago County Poorbouse.
There were evidence of a terrible strug
gle near the wounded man and the earth
was swimming in blood. Plain foot
tracks led from the bodv to a new-made
grave in the cemetery, which was half
diseuterred, showing that Kendall was
engaged in the ghoulish task of robbing
a grave when surprised by his unknown
assailants. Near by were two slievels
wrapped together in a piece of old car
pet, and a satchel. On his person were
a dirk and two revolvers in a belt. In
the satchel were a bottle of whisky, a
cant-hook, a long pieoe of rope, a dark
lan tern, a bit and stalk and screw-driver
and other tools used in grave-robbing.
In his pooket was found s card on which
was written: "Be shure eight o'clock."
Kendall has made in the past a business
of furnishing bodies for the medical
college in that city, but has had a fall
ing out with that institution and has
lately boen engaged in supplying some
college elsewhere. He is aged abont
twenty-five years and is of a most aris
tocratic family. He is at variauoe with
his relatives, as he married about four
months ago a beautiful servant girl em
ployed iu his father's house. Why he
should be engaged in this ghastly occu
pation is not known, as his practice is
quite lucrative. It is believed that he
was shot by members of an association
called the "Grave Protectors," which
lias seoretly been organized since a re
cent attempt at a burying ground iu
that city. Kendall will not recover.
Looks Like Business.
A few months ago a farmer livmg on
the line of Jackson and Fort Wayne
road visited the headquarters of the
company 11 urge the necessity of a new
passenger station at a certain cross
roads on the line.
"I'm afrnid the patronage would not
pay the expenses," replied the official.
"I tell you a heap of people would
got ou and off at them comers," urged
the farmer.
"JVell, how many of your neighbor
hood have passed over our road this
year?"
"How many? Well, there's the old
man Skinner for one. He has been to
Jackson twice that I know of. Then
there's aunt Deborah Smith, who goes
down to Fort Wayne every spring and
fall. Then we've got several young
men who allers go up to Lansing when
there's a circus."
"Any more?" asked the official, as
the farmer scratched his head and
wriggled arqund.
"No-o, I don't know as I km think of
any more just now, but if you'll go
ahead and put up a station there you
can count on a dozen of us sitting around
there all the time to make things look
like business,"
Th Story of the Seorttary Bird.
There was-a time when the Secretary
Bird lived on fish, like the other long
legged and crane-like birds, and he was
so well satisfied with this fare that he
never cared for any other kind of food.
One day, a large Secretary Bird was
standing in the water, on the edge of a
river, busily engaged in fishing. When
he caught a fish, he would wade ashore,®
and there eat it. While he was thus en
gaged in fishing, a large serpent came
winding his way along the river-bank,
and, as soon as he perceived the bird, he
stopped to see what it was doing. When
the Secretary Bird came out of the wa
ter to eat the fish, .the Snake remarked:
"Friend, it seems to me you would
make a pleasanter meal if yon would
toss your fish upon the bank as fast as
you catch tl e*u, and then, when you
have enough, come out an<l eat them at
your leisure."
"I should like that plan yery well,"
said the Secrotary Bird; "butif Ishould
toss a freshly caught fish upon the bank
he would flop iuto the water as soon as
I had gone to catch another. Thus I
should always be catching fbh, and
eating none."
"There need be no trouble of that
kind to-day " said the Snake; "for, if
y u will throw the fish on shore, I will
see that they do not get into the water
again."
"Thank yon very kindlv," said the
Secretary Bird, "If you will do that,
it will save time, and I shall soon oatch
enough fish for a dinner."
"1 shall be only too glad to oblige
von," said the Serpent.
Tliereapou the bird waded into the
river, and as soon as he caught a fish he
threw it ashore, where the Snake took
care that it did not get iuto the water
again. When the Bird thought he bad
ca'.glit enough fish, he came ou shore
and saw the Snake slowly moving away.
"What is yo.ir hurry?" he cried.
"Stop and take dinner with me. I have
now caught twelve fish, and as I had
eaten some before you came, six will be
all I shall want. Youoaa have the other
six, aud we can take a pleasant meal
together."
T am very much obliged to you,"
ssid the Snake, still moving away; "but
Ido not belii ve that anything could in
duce me to eat a fish at present. I have
no appetite at all for such food." And
he glided into the bushes, and was lost
to sight.
"He need not be so dainty," said the
Secretary Bird to himself; "for fish is
very good food, indeed; but since he
will not accept my invitation, I shall
have all the more dinner for myself.
But where are the fish?"
The Secretary Bird looked anxiously
about, on the shore and on the grass
but he oould find no s ga of the fish he
hAd caught. At length he cam ) to a
little pile of twelve fish-tails lying be
hind a bush. The Snake did not like
fish-tails, aud had bitten these off before
eating the fish Instantly the tru'h
Hashed through the mind of ihe Secre
tary Bird.
"That wTetcbed Serpent!" he ex
claimed. "He has. indeed, taken good
care that my fish shall not eso ipe into
the water. He has eaten them, one by
one, rs fast as I ihraw them ou shore.
I never heard of snch an infamous trick.
But I will be revenged on him. I will
find him, no matter where he has hidden
himself," So saying, the angry Bird
rushed away in pursuit of the cralty
acquaint rnce who had taken care of his
fish. Soon he saw a movement among
the tall reeds.
"There he is!" he shouted, and he
dashed toward the place.
Iu a moment he had pounced among
the reeds, and attacked the Snake with
great lury.
"You infamous creature!" he cried.
"I will teach you how to deoeive a bird
of my standing." And in spite of the
Snake's efforts to get away, he stamped
upon him and pecked him until, he lial
killed him.
"You have cheated me of my dinner,"
said the angry Bird, "aad it would
serve you right if I were to make a din
ner of you."
S) saying,—his appetite whetted by
the morning's worn, —he begau to
eat the Snxke, and did not stop until he
had entirely devoured him.
"Upon the whole," said the Secretary
Bird, when he had finished, "I prefer
snakes to fish, and I think that for the
future I shall moke my meal upon these
deoeitlul creatures, who go about play
ing tricks upoD honest folks." Alter that,
this bird gave up eating fish and fed
entirely upon snakes. He did not trouble
himself to catch the small ones, because
it took too many of them to satisfy his
hunger, but he preferred the large
ones, as one of them was enough for a
meal. His wife and children soon
learned that snakes were easy to catch
and good to eat, and they also gave up
eating fish. This Secretary Bird was
a very influential member of his tribe,
and the new diet soon became q ite
fashionable; and the descendants of the
Secretary Birds of that day have since
lived entirely upon large snakes. It
may be noticed, also, that the serpents
of that part of the country, remember
ing, perhaps, this old story, have a great
distaste for fish.
Life Savins,
The lifj-saving crewson the New Jer
sey coast having been relieved from
duty, the fact is brought out that only
one life was lost on that coast from
wrecked vessels from September Ist of
last year, to and including Sunday,
April 30th, although 178 lives were im
perilled. The value of the vessels
wrecked and their cargoes was more
than half a million dollar <, about three
fourths of which were saved through the
exertions of the life-saving crew?.
That is a very creditable record.
LINIEED meal is often lound cf more
feeding value than the seed itself, because
in making it into cake twenty-five per cent,
of cil is pressed out leaving only eleven to
twelve-per cent, in the cake. This in
creases the of albume I about
five per cent, making linseed meal contain
Iwentyeijht per oent,
NO 24.