VOL. LVI. HARTER, AUCTIONEER, MILLHEIM, PA. J C. SPRINGER, Fashionable Barber. L Next Door to JOURNAL Store, MILLHSIH, PA. JJROCKERHOFF HOUSE, ALLEGHENY STREET, bkllkfontk, ... PA C- G. McMILLEN, PROPRIETOR. Good Sample Room on First Floor. Buss to and from all Train*. Special tato* to witnesses and Jurors. 4-1 IRVIN HOUSE, (Most Central Hotel in the City J Corner MAIN and JAY Streets, Lock Haven, Pa. S. WOODS CALWKLL, Proprietor. % Good Sample Rooms for Commercial Travelers on first floor. J^ R - D. H. MINGLE, Physician and Surgeon. MAIN Street, MILLHKIM, Pa. JOHN F. HARTER, Practical Dentist, Office In 2d story of Touriiusoa's Gro cery Store, On MAIN Street, MILLHKIM, Pa. BP KIMTF.R, • 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 guaranteed. Repairing done prompt ly and cheaply, aud in a neat style. 8. R. PKALB. H. A. MCKEI. PEALE Ac McKEE, ATTORNEYS AT LAW, Office opposite Court House, Bellefonte, Pu C. T. Alexander. C. M. Bower. a BOWER, . ATTORNEYS AT LAW, bellefonte, pa. Office In Qarm&n's new building. JOHN B. LINN, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BKLLJ2FONTE, PA. Offloe on Allegheny Street. QLEMENT DALE, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA Northwest corner of Diamond. H HASTINGS, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA. Office on Allegheny Street, 8 doors west of office formerly occupied by the late Arm of Yocuin A Hastings. M. C. HEINLE, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA. Practices In all the courts of Centre County. Special attention to Collections. Consultation* In German or English. _____ F. REEDEB, ATTORNEY AT LAW. -\ BELLEFONTE, PA. All business promptly attended to. Collection of claims a speciality. J. A. Beaver. - . J. W. Geph&rt. JgEAVER — > Hast ings. iie pillketw iiirwl TIIK OOLl) OF HOPE. Hrrtfht stitues the sua, but brighter after ralti; The clouds that darken uiske the sky more clear; So rest ts sweeter when tt follows pain, And tha sad parting makes our friends more dear. 'Tls well It should thus; our Father kno vs The things that work together for our goed; We draw a sweetuesa from our bitter woes - We would not have all sunshine If we could. The days, with all their beauty ami their light. Come from the dark, und into dark return; Day speaks of earth, but heaven shines through the night, Where iu the blue a thousand star-Ores burn. afel So runs the law, lhe law of recompense. That biuds our life on earth ami heaveu lu one; Faith canuot live when all la sight anp sense. But Faith eau live and sing when these are gone. We grieve aud murmur for we can but see The single thread that files iu silence l>> ; When if we on y saw the tliiuga to in l , Our lips would breath a song, not sigh. Watt, then, ui.v soul, and edge theda p kenlng cloud With the bright gold that hope can always lend; Aud tf to-day thou art with sorrow bowed, Walt till to-moTOW, and thy grief shall end. And when we reach the limit of our days. Beyond the reach of ahadows and ot night. Then shall our every look and voice be praise To Uliu who shines, our everlasting light. NKAItI.VA MIsTAKK. Better be Alt old mui's darling tliiiu a young man's slave." This had been Jessie Vernon's con stant laughing answer to the many ques tions heaped upon her as to her strange choice—strange only because James Usilton had been a man of twenty-five when Jessie's violet eyes first h ul opened upon the world. She was nineteeu now, and he a man of forty-four. Au old man's darling indeed, His darling, yes; but in the light of an old man, a hundred times no! # The wonder lay that he should have stooped from his grand height to her. But he smiled sadly when he listened to her repetition of these things. "I don't think you quite realize the gulf of years between us," he would ans wer her. 4 'Think, Jessie—iu six more years I shall be fifty, aud yon will scarce be twenty-five. Are you sure, darling—sure you will never regret?" Once, when he had said to her some thing like this she burst into tears. "Hush, hush!" she entreated. "You speak as though the heart might grow old. As long, James, as Ido not seem too frivolous a child to be honored by your love, never again wound me by a doubt." The words sank deep into his heart. In future yearn he had sore need to find comfort in their memory. The wedding-day at last dawned clear and bright. 'He vowed, as he ottered the solemn pledges at the ah or, that at any sacrifice he would make her happiness. Lt was a silent vow, but none the less sacred. Two years passed on. He would have held time back iu the new joy of his experience. Their boy was not a fortnight old when he entered his wife's room with an open letter in his hand. She was resting in a large arm-chair, the violet eyes bent downward with new beauty in their depth to scan the iittle face pillowed 011 her breast. "See, little mother," he cried, "1 have just heard from Carl. He is com ing home. He will be with us a most any day." "Oh. I shall be glad to know him," she replied; "but jealous, James —a little jealous, I fear—you love him so welt." . "As well as though he were my son," he answered fondly. "No—no! I used to sav that, but I know now differently. It will be for him to feel jealous, my darling, not for you. He will find two usurpers in the plac • he use i to fill And he stooped t J kiss the two faces, lietween which he liked to trace the strange likeness. Carl Howard had grown to Jessie al most to be a household word. He was her husband's ward—the son of a friend who had been to him dearer than a brother, and who, dying, had constituted him sole guardian of his only child. The young man had jus t commenced his college career when his father died. After finishing it he had gone abroad, and it had now been six years since his leaving his native land* To Jessie he seemed still a boy, for as such James spoke of him. Uncousciously, now that he was eom ijg Lome, she found herself uevhiug schemes for his amusement He might find the ir country home dull,beautiful as it was in its June dress, she mused. Perhaps, now that she had grown strong and well again, she might invite a gay party of young peop'e to fill it. But before she had time to put any of her plans into execution. Carl arrived. She and James were sitting together on the piazza, when a carriage drove hastily up, and out from it sprang a young man, tall, broad-shouldered, and even in the dim twilight, unmistakably handsome. James started up to meet liim, taking both outstretched hands in his in away which showed how genuine was his *el ijome. Then he led him proudly to his wife. "Jessie, this isCail." "Why, uncle," —this was the title he had always given him since his child MILLHKIM. IA., THURSDAY, JULY 13,1882. i * , . hood—"I thought this waa some little girl visitiug you!" Ami truly, iu her white wrapper, buried in a great arm chair, Jennie looked but a child. All three laughed merrily. The ice was broken—Uarl was one of them. Looking back at that hWur, HH the weeks sped on. how strange it sieiucd to U>ek beyond. B fore Carl came seemed almost a blank, so did his young life till the place. Jessie never had had a brother; but she felt this gup iu her life was tilled now. She and Carl were sworn friends. It was he who rvnlo with her when James oared not to go—who walked with her when James was busy —who stood ready at all times to be her hum ble and devoted cavalier. She had expected a mere boy; she fouuda travelled man of the world, full ten years her senior. When she told him her plan to till the house, he would not listen to it. 4 Let us be alone," he pleaded; and she was but too willing to give assent. It was u joyous summer. They allowed no sovereignty save baby. Over all three, he held undisputed sway. * • 4, You have made my uncle young again," Carl said to her, one day. "Hush!" she replied. Th§t is trea son. We cannot make him what he already is, or return to him what he has never lost." 4 'You are happy?" James would some times say to her, yearningly—"quite happy?" as though he dared not believe in the sunny brightness of his life. "Jessie," Carl began once, as they sat alore together, 4, 1 am going to cou lide to yon a secret no o:ie knows as yet, uot even my uncle. I am iu love. I have been lighting against it myself for loug. In my wandering life 1 have grown sceptical as to married happi ■ ness. What I have seen here has re newed my confidence, and I intend to put my fate to the test, and if I an. for tunate, next summer I shall bring my bride hero. Will you open your heart to her too?" "Indeed—indeed I will," she answer ed earnestly. And from that hour a new tie bound tpem. 44 Why do you not tell Jame !" she would often ask him. But he always answered; "Waif Once he came to her with a letter in his hand, his handsome face alight with j°y "lt is hll right, Jessie," he cried out. 4 'Oh, can I tell yoa how proud uud glad I am? And it is to you I owe it. It is you who taught me the power of 1< ve-- what it is, what it may do; you who have given me this happiness I might never else have tasted. Jessie —Jessie! why did I not meet you earlier?" "Oh, Carl, you can never love as I do!" she answered, when something sounded through the room as she utter ed Hie last word. Both glanced up. The master of the house stood iu the doorway, white and stern, but with an awful sorrow in his kind eyes. Jessie sprang to his side. "What is it, darling? What has liap pened?" Could it be that she did uot know he hae overheard Carl's hist words to her? he v. oudered. Could it be that she had growu so ac customed to their meaning that she could not comprehend the awful vista they opened before his hitherto blrtldod eyes? Could it be that she was so versed in deception that she could so readily call up the old love-light in the sweet face, where he liad thought to read the con tent. he had given her?" "It is nothing he said hoarsely and turned away. Something in his manner hurt and chilled her, but wheu they had next met it had gone. He was more watchful, more tender— that was all. Of the long dark hours he had passed she could dream nothing. "I strove to make her happiness," he would repeat softly to himself, "at any cost —at any cost. Aud it is still all my fault; I threw them together. How well they are suited to each other. With each of them life is just beginning; with me—oh Heaven—l would that it had euded 'ere I lived to see this hour. But how can I make her happiness—my darliug's happiness? I will linda waj, and Heaven will forgive the sin." Three da} s passed. Wliat had happened to her husband? Once Jessie found his eyes fixed on her face as though they would pierce their way into her soul "I believe James suspects we have a secret" she said to Carl one day. "Will you not let me tell him of your liappi ess?" "Yes, you may tell him now," lie answered. ."He will understand why I give you my confidence, even before him." In the twilight she knocked at the library door. There was no answer, and she opened it softly and went in. ' A letter lay on'the table, addressed to herself. , She tore it open, and with blanched face and wide staring eyes, read the written page. Ho wrote— "Good-by, my darling. I have found out (liow matters not) that you and Carl love each other. 1 do not blame you. No momentary doubt of your womauly truth and purity lias crossed my mind, Jmt 1 swore to give you happi • ness at any cost, and I go to ktmp my oath. If ere long news of my sudden accidental death ooiues to you. you will know that I did not conut the cost lightly, aud remember that 1 died bless ing you, and that it is my wish you aud Carl should fiml'vith eacli other the happiness you missed with me. I could uot hope,darling, to blend yotir young life with mine, yet the dream while it lasted was full i f sweetness. Perhaps Heaveu will give it back to me iu eh rui ty " Like u spectre she hut-toued back to the room she had lett. and thrust the letter, on which the iuk was hardly dry into Curl flowurd's hands. "Find him," she moaned, "find him. Bring him buck to me, or never let me look again upon your face." Then with a shrill scream from the young lips, as the full extent of her misery burst upon her, she fell fuiutiug to the floor. For hours she was unconscious; but when at last llie violet eyes opened they looked into her husband's face. Carl had found aud brought him back to her. With a few hasty words nil had been explained. Through an accident of time the dread verdict "Too late" hail not been pro nounced. The handsome face bending over her pillow was aged with misery, but to her it had the light of eternal youth. She heeded not bis pussionutc prayer for forgiveness. She forgot that he had wronged her; only, with her clinging arms about hie neck she drew him down—down to the sacred shelter of her breast. '1 he World'* Kml. The belief that the world would oome tc ail end in the year 1000 was associa ted with, if not absolutely derived from, a much older belief entertained by the earliest astronomers of whom ally records remain to us. Tlioy con sidered that certain cyclic grinds of the* planetary motions begin and end with terrestial calamities, these calami ties being of different characters ac cording to the zodiacal relations of the planetary conjunctions. Thus the an cient Chaldeans taught (according to Diodoius Siciilus) that when all tlie planets arc oonjoiued in Capricorn us the earth is destroyed by Hood ; when they are all conjoined iu Cancer the earth is destroyed by lire. But after each such end comes the beginning Qf a new cycle, at which time all things are orea ted afresh. A favorite doctrine respect ing those cyclic destructions was that the period intervening between each was the Annus Magnus, or great year required for the return of the then known planets to the position (of con junction) which they were understood to have hail at the beginning of the great year. According to some this period lasted 360,000 years; other as signed to it 300,000 years, while ac cording to Orpheus it lasted 120,000 years. But it was in every case a mul tiple of a thousand years, and the sub ordinate catastrophes wero supposed to divide the great year into sets of so manw thousand years. Au Indian Hnme. The uouse is situated m a natural locust grove, on the Cherokee nation, such as sprinkle the beautiful prairie to which their nres< nee gives a name. It stands on a slight ek vaiion in the midst of yard, garOen, farm-steading auil Held. It is not •f logs, as is most common, but is what in the west is called a '* rame house,'' and is built of sswad lumber from a neighboring mill. Like all houses in a nnld climate that invites to spend so much life out of aoors, it has an ample piazza, furnished with split or hide-bottomed chairs, and containing a lixturo for a hand basin and towel. Tbe yard is decorated with native and cultivated flowers, rose trees in largo growth and of luxuriant bloom,and honey suckle wearing an odoriferous mantle of blossoms. Within the house is comforta bly furnished with aut que bedsteads and cases of drawers that are evideutly heir looms, and perhaps came to the country with the emigraVon of the Cuerokee peo pie Two ancient oil painting ornamented the walls—the father and mother of our h (Mess —taken in old age by some artist who v.sued the country, and representing in both m6ianeis siriking countenances, having bee n the captain of a Cherokt e company tdat fought the hostile Creeks at the battle of tbe Horse Shoe under Audrew Jackson. Tin-types portraits of our host and hostesfi.and the heir of the lamily, a bright boy now at school aUhe male semi nary at Tahlequab, complete tfce picture gallery. A few books and a number of newspapers furnish the reading matter. Everything is neat and clean, showing the presence of a notable housewife. POVERTY is hard, but debt is horrible; a man might as well have a smoky house and scoldiug wife which are said to be the two worst evils of our life. ROUMANIA exce's all other countries in Europe in the production of Indian coin. The average yield is thirty-four bushels per acre, the total crop aggregating aboat 108,000,000 bushels. Tli World'* Champion Oarauian. Ever since Edward Haulan first ap peared in liia shell, winning races over all comers, his style has been the sub, joot of criticism and attempted descrip tion by watermen and newspaper wri era. To the writer who has watched the ehainpion in practice fthd races, 110 writer seems to have as fully mastered the reason for his success like a recent critic in the Loudon Sports man. In the first place he states that Hani an has improved greatly in the past two years. He appears to have "filled out" slightly; his muscles, as iu common with men of his age, have hardened and acquired more power and his style of propelling a racing craft has. if anything become more beautifully perfect. The reasons as signed for Hanlan's progress are that lie has tried every improvement iu boats, fittings and sculls, has brought intelligence to bear upon the subject of sculling, and hsis taken wonderful care of himself. He is discreet in the selec tion of his food, but has stepped out side of cherished traditions. He is no advocate for the consumption of half raw chops or badly underdone cutlets, winch was once supposed to be so strengthening, nor does he entirely, refrain from light puddings or other little delicacies.to vary the daily menu. He recognizes the theory that the ab sorption of fluids rather than the con sumption of solids prevents the frame from beiug relieved of superfluous flesh. While he does not wholly ab stain from intoxicants, lie has always been a temperate man. Before Han lau will consent to start in a race he must know by actual trial that his boat is in harmony with himself. He adjusts the l>oat to his action not his action to the boat. But the l>est part of the criticism relates to his stroke. As it displays a thorough understanding of the art of rowing and describes a stroke w inch has been phenomenally success ful, we give it at length for the benefit of our aquatic friends The sportsman says, "Banian is careful to drop his sculls iu a cleanly and neat style into the water, not dipping too deep, but merely exercising caution that the blades shall be well covered. His chief strength is exerted when the sculls are at perfect right angles with the boat; lie pulls bis stroke through with an even exertion of strength and inva riably fiuishes with a powerfu "wrench," if that word is appropriate It should be noticed that he never con cludes his slide until he has completed his stroke. Thus the muscles of the arms, shoulders, badk and legs work in perfect haimony. Wheu he has flu. ished with a vigorous effort he whips his sculls out of the water like light ning, aud under the influence of his final "thrust" the boat is naturally pro gressing until he gets to work again. We have seen scores of oarsmeu who put their full power into the initial effort and closed very languidly. The mere fact of their allowing the sculls the drag in the water even for an in stant must necessarily deprive the light shell of seme of its "way," aud thus we have that jerky style of pro gressing but too commonly noticeable. We shall not be wrong if we say Hau lau fiuishes up quite as strongly as he begins his stroke, aed we really believe if some of our representatives will perl severiugly endeavor to adopt tlii method they may be gratified with ths result." DOIUOIIIK Comforts. Among the receutly_ granted patents is one for the oooliug of duelling houses offices, hotels, etc., by means of com pressed gas, which is conducted from a street mam into the premises in pipes like ordinary gas. Tbe compreseed gas on being allowed to expand within a suitable recept cle, produces a very low temperature. Thus the housekeeper, simply by turning the gas faucet, will be able to make ice, supply the dwel ling in hot weather with cold air. and produce all forms and degrees of re rigerations with the utmost, facility. fOur houghs being now supplied from street mains with cold water, hot water, compressed gas, and electricity, we now only need, to complete the comforts of .iviug, a milk main and tea and coffee mains: after which perhaps the public will call for soup pipes. w t-iiiu tou'H LOB Cabin. m The log cabin which Washington made his headquarters when a surveyor in the va'ley of Virginia still stands in tact over the spring at Soldier's Rest, Clarke County. Soldier's Rest was built by General Daniel Morgan, of Re vo utionarv fame. When bruised and, bloody from the numerous tights with which he was wont to celebrate Court day iu the neighboring town of Berry vil'le, he weuld retire to the old spring house, where his wife would bathe his head and bind up his wounds. The cabin is now used as a dairy. The J:iurnev <>f lite Hell. The journey into London of Great Paul, the new and monster bell designed for St. Paul's Cathedral, was attended with many difficulties, some of them great. Several times the road gave way beneath the weight, until the truck Decame half buried in the earth. Wherever the road wss soft the wheels, though very broad, would sink into the soil, so that on a certain day only about fifty yards of the journey was traversed. Fuller Particular*. The reporter saw two horses dashing down a street in Salt Lake City wth a few pieces of the harness left and also a portion of the running gear of the car riage. He made directly for the spot where the horses had left the carriage, and by following the track of spokes, hubs, and fragments of the carriage soon reached the wreck. There was a man standing by looking at it with s jme interest. "How'd tli's happen?" asked the scril>e. "Dam fino," rejoined the man. "Horse kind of runaway, I guess." "(Jan you give me any particulars?" "Well, no, I did not see the first of it Guess didn't amount to anything any how. Got scared at somethin, I s'pose." "Anybody hurt?" 4 'Well now, stranger, I couldn't say. 4 Pears to me somebody did mention it, but 1 forgot now who 'twas. Ain't much acquainted in the ward anyhow." "Do you know anyb dy that does know?" * "Guess the horses got skoered some how. " The reporter calls on eight or ten eye witnesses of the scene and none have sufficient intelligence to give any ac count of the accident, wbieh happened right under their noses. All seem to labor under the impression that they will be arrested and sentenc d to ten years' hard labor in the Pen tentiary if they impart a single scrap of informa tion. Inside of ten minutes the man first interviewed reaches home and his memory l>egins to liven up. He tells his wife all al>out it. —"I tell you, Sal, I never saw aueh an all fired runaway as I saw just a while ago. Billy Brown's two horse team ran away, threw Mrs. Brown aud two children out and knocked old Brown senseless. I was right there aud helped to carry him over to Thomp son's The buggy struck a tree aud smashed the daylights out of it. Guess Brown will die. They say his leg was broke, left leg, just below the knee, and Mrs. Brown's jaw was smashed. The chi'ilren, Betsy and Clara, wasn't hurt so much." "I suppose it'll be in a "paper in the morning." "Bet you don't see a line there; re porters are too cussed lazy to hunt an item anyhow, and then they never get it right." In the morning the man looks in his paper and cusses it for not giving fuller particulars. I'm Her Hu*b.ind. Once, when Mine. Rentz and her fanialo minstrels were perfotming in San Francisco, a well known Front street merchant —one of the front or chestra-seat brigade, whose head was more clear than level—waited around the stage entrance to the Standard Theater after the performance trying to conceal a handsome bouquet under his ulster. For a long time he k< pt peering at the different specimens of Mme. Rentz's sirens, as they put up their umbrellas nnd trotted away in the rain. After waiting patiently foi about an hour, he approach ed an individual with a rtd scarf and a slouched hat who stood smoking a ci gar at the entrance, and Raid: "Can you tell me, sir, if Miss Chlor iqe has gone home yet?" "Oh, yes, been gone haT an hour," replied the slouch hat party cheerfully. Those flowers for her?" "Well—er—um—yes." "I'll give 'em to her—see her later," said the obliging man. "Will you? Tnat's very kind sur ely." "Oh, not at all," said the man, smel ling the bouqu t with the arof a con noisseur. "Anything else?" "Well—ahem! —yes. Just give her this pair of ear-rings." "Certaiulv. What name shall I say?" "Just say that *B:by Mine'—she'll understand—sends love, aud says 2.30 at the same place to morrow." "I'll just make a mem. of that," said the red-tie man, writing on his Bliirt euff, "2.30, same place to-morrow. All right. Auything lse?" "No, that's all Sure you'll se her this evening." "Oil, certain." "And you'll get a chance to spa ik to her when there is no one around?" "Oh, dead sure. You see, I'm her husb nd!" "Baby Mine" faiuted, and was sent to liis home in a hack. A Ma alter. / Just before a Western-liound train left the Union depot, a masher with his little grip-sack slid around to a woman standing near the ticket office and re marked; "Excuse me, but can I be of any as sistance in purchasing your ticket?" • "No, sir!" was the short reply. 4 4 Beg | ardun, but I shall be glad to see that your trunk is properly checked," he continued. "It has been checked, sir." 4 4 Yes—aliem —you goj West, I pre sume?" "I do." "Going as far as Chicago?" 44 Yes, sir." "Ah—yes —to Chicogo. I also take the train for Chicago. Beg your par don, but did't I meet you in Buffalo last fall?" "No, sir!" 44 Ah! Then it was in Syracuse?" "No, sir!" "No? I wonder where I have seen you before!" 4 4 You saw me enter the depot about five minutes ago with my husband, I presume!" "Your husband?" 4 4 Yes, sir, and if you'll only say around here three minutes longer you'll make the fifth fellow o: your kind that he has turned over to the coroner this month!" - - - Some masher would have made a run for it,*but this one didn't. He went off on the gallop, and as he wanted to go light he left his grip-sack and a ton of brass behind him. Mad Doctor*. A few days ago an elegantly dressed lady called on one of the best known mad doctors in Paris, and in a voice broken with sobs exclaimed; "Doctor, you are my only hope now. My poor son is a monomaniac; he is quite harm less: his idee Axe is that he is a cashier in bonk, and to everybody ho meets he presents a bill or account and demands payment. He has already got himself and me into serious difficulties, and I don't know what to do." And here the tears began to course each other down the fair pleader's cheeks. The doctor did his best to cheer the unhppy mo ther, asked her various quest ons, and Anally gave some hope of curing the boy. She dried her tears, and said she would leave her son in his hands. .'T will bring him to you to-morrow; but oh! doctor, the separation will be cruel," Naxt morning she appeared with the l>oy. "Tell your master," she* said to the servant who opened the door, "that the pel son he expects is here," and, taking a parcel from her son's hands, told him to wait a few minutes. Bhe then retired by a side entrance which the doctor had shown her, and had ad vised her to pass in order to avoid a mournful, and, perhaps, exciting fare well with her son. Quarter of an hour pa sed, the Doctor entered the waiting room, and the young man presented his acoount. "Quite right, my lad, I will settle it with you directly," and he felt the young men's pulse. "Normal pulse" says the man of science. • 'My account," *ays the young man. "my master will be uneasy; please give me the money at . onoe." But the doctor gazed AxedJy at him, and tried to feel his pulse. "Let go!" exclaimed the monomaniac, get ting into a passion. "Pay me at once, and don't make a fool of yourself." "Violent attack," says the doctor calmly, and he pulled the bell rope rather violently. "The shower bath," he explained to his two attendants; and in a twinkle the young man was rtrip ped, and a stream of ice-cold water pouring over him. He howled, he kicked, but uselessly. When the doctor came to see the effect of the operation, he was much surprised to Aud his patient madder than ever; vowing vengeance at one moment, and the next imploring his torturers to seDd to a jeweler in the Hue de la Paix and ask him to oome and release him. Wnen the doctor heard the word "jeweler." a . light broke upon him. He dispatched an attendant to the Hue de la Paix, and in a few minutes tne jeweler appeared upon the scene. He turned somewhat pale when matters were explained to him, for he saw himself robbed of 26.0K3 francs by a most ingenious chev aliier d'iodustrie. She had chosen jjweiry to that amount, but not having t -ie money with her she had said; Let your clerk come with me; I live in the Avenue d'Evlau, and my husband will pay the account" The SiM of It. A citizen bad bad occasion to consult a lawyer regarding a suit wbtcb he con templated instituting, but of the defin ite outcome of which he was in doubt He did not wish to pay a retaining fee, because he was uncertain of winning. The attorney said he would acoept a contingent fee. The party met Mr. Burleigh some time afterward and ask ed him the definition of a contingent fee. "A contingent fee," jooosely said Mr Burleigh, is this: "If a lawyer loses the case he gets nothing. If he wins you get nothing." "But," said the perplexed party, scratching his head, "I can't say that j exactly comprehend you." "I thought I was quite clear,*' said Mr. Burleigh, who repeated what he had said. "But it seems that I don't get any thing in either event," said the man, when his intellect had fully grasped the situation. "\Yell, that is about the size of a con tingent fee." replied Mr. Burleigh, terminating the conversation. A Spouse Bath. ft H was rot in McFaddm's drug store that a young and sprightly school tea cher last week addressed the clerk: "I would like a sponge bath." "Ah, oh, a—will you please repeat, I did not quite understand you?" stam mered the clerk. "I would like a good sponge bath," again demanded the customer, while a pair of sharp gray eyes, beaming with wonder and impatienoe, made him trem ble. More dead than alive he managed to tell his fair visitor his inability to catch her meaning. "Well, I never! If this isn't queer! I think I speak intelligently enough. I— want —you—to—give—me—a—good— sponge—bath." At this moment the pro; netor whis pered: "She wants a bath sponge." At the same moment she comprehen ded the trouble and fled from the store before she could be recogDized by any one, but too late! A gentleman raised his hat to her, passed in and all was dis covered. He who frets is never the one who mends, heals, who repaii-s evils; more he discourages, enfeebles, and too often disables those aroiind him, who, but for the gloom and the depression of his company, would do good work and keep up brave cheer. And when the fretter is one who is beloved, whose neamees j of relation to us makes his fretting even 1 at the weaher st em almost like a per sonal reproach to us. then the misery of it becomes indeed insupportable, NO 28.