VOL. LVI. HARTER, AUCTIONEER, MILLHEIM, PA. J C. SPRINGER, Fashionable Barber, Next Door to JOURNAL Store, MILLHKIH, PA. GROCKERHOFF HOUSE, ALLEGHENY STREET, BKLLEFONTE, - - - PA c. G. McMILLEN. PROPRIETOR. Good Sample Room on First Floor. Ban to and from all Trains Special rates to witnesses and Jurors. 44 IRYIN HOUSE. (Most Central Hotel In the City J Corner MAIN and JAY Streets, Lock Havea, Pa. 8. WOODS CA.LWKLL, Proprietor. Good Sample Rooms for Commercial Travelers on first floor. JJR. D. H. MINGLE, Physician and Surgeon, MAIN Street, Millhjum, Pa. t JOHN F. HARTER, PRACTICAL DENTIST, Office la story of Tomlinsoa't Gro cery Store, On MAIN Street, MILI.HKIM, Pa. BF KISTKR, • FASHIONABLE BOOT 4 SHOE MAKBR Shop next door lo Foote'a Store, Main St, Boot a, Shoes and Glitera made to order, and sat isfactory work guaranteed. Repairing done prompt ly and cheaply, and in a neat style. C. T. Alexander. C. M. Bower. A BOWER, ATTORNEYS AT LAW, BELLEFONTE, PA. Office in Garm&n's new building. JOHN B. LINN, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA. Office on Allegheny Street. QLEMENT DALE, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BELLEFONTB, PA. Northwest corner of Diamond, HOY, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BELLBFONTE, PA. Orphans Court business a Speclalty. C * HEINLE, ATTORNEY AT LAW# BELLEFONTE, PA. Practices In all the courts of Centre County. Special attention to Collections. Consultations in German or English. J. A. Beaver. J. W. Qephart. JGEAYER A GEPHART, ATTORNEYS AT LAW, BELLEFONTE, PA Office on Alleghany Street, North of High. Y° CUM 4 HARSHBERGER, ATTORNEYS AT LAW, BELLEFONTE, PA. H. KELLER, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA, Consultations In English or German. Office in Lyon's Building, Allegheny Street. ~ iiisTiNGfl. w. w. anion. JjAaTLNGS & REEDER, ATTORNEYS AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA. Office on Allegheny street, two doors east of the office occupied by TTE late firm ol gast lllfeA eo-t7 A SIX-HUNDRED-POUND man: The gen tleman stepped on the coal dealer's platform scales and asked to be weighed. The dealer said: "Why, certainly I" and called to the man inside to take the weight. And the man thought it was coal he was weighing and shouted back the weight six hundred pounds. ®ie pilllelii iiiwal TH AT NIGHT. You ami I, am) (hat night, with Its porfuiue ami glory! Thj seeut of the lorusta, the light of the moon, And the violin weaving the wait sera a sory, Enmeshing their feet in the weft of the tune, Till their shadows uucertaiu lteeled round on the curtain. While under the trellis we dra A hi the June. Soaked through with the midnight, the cedars were sleeping, Their shadowy tresses outlined in the bright Crystal moon-smitten mists, where the fountain's heart, leaping Forever, forever burst, full with delight; And its lips on my spirit Fell faint as that near it Whose love like a lily bloomed out iu the night. Oh, your glove was an odarous sachet of blisses! The breath of your fan was a breeze of Cathay ! And the rose at your throat was a nest of spilled klasest And the muslo—in fancy I hear it to-day, As I sit here confessing our secret, and blessing, My rival who fouud us and waltzed you away. FAME VEKsCS I.OVE. "It cannot be!" As these words fell from Helen Arm strong's lips she arose from her seat, an old overturned boat, and moved slowly toward the water's edge. For a moment her companion, a mau of perhaps twenty-five, hesitated; then he joined her, repeating: "It cannot be, Helen? Surely you are not in earnest. You love me, have you not said it? Aud yet you refuse to be come my wife!" "Edwin, I—" "l r ou did not mean it,'* quickly in terrupted Edwin Bennett, adding; "Come, darliug, why should not we be happy?" And he drew her hand witlnn his arm. For an instant she let it rest there, then slowly but firmly she loosened his clasp, as she said: "For two years you and I have beeu friends. In that time did you ever know me to change after I hud once decided upon anything?" "No, but—" answered her companion quickly while she, unheeding, gi>es on with: "You know the one great desire of my life is to win lame as an artist. Could I do this as your wife?" "Why not, Helen? Would I not do anything in the world to help you?" came the proud answer, as Edwin Ben nett bent his eyes fondly upon the fair lace beside him. "No, Edwin; as a wife I could never hope to obtain fame. Marriage brings to women so many oares that there is very little time left oyer for other work. I should not make you happy. I should be constantly longing for my old, free life." "If that is all I am not afraid to nsk my happiness, Helen," answered her lover, a more hopeful look lighting up his handsome face. "Think how for five years," continued Helen, "I have worked with the one end in view. My home, you are aware, has not been particularly agreeable. Uncle and aunt are kind in their way, and have always let me have my own will about painting, proyidiug it lid not cost them anything. As for love or sympathy, you have seen how much they have yielded to me." "Seen and felt for you, Helen, God knows. And now that I will make your life, if love can do it, one happy dream, you will not; and yet you do not deny your love for me." For a second Helen's eyes rested longingly upon the face of the man who loved her so dearly; then into their dusky depths crept an intense, passion ate longing, as they swept the horizon and noted the glorious splendor of the setting sun, while she exclaimed: "Oh, Edwin! If I only could repro duce tnat sunset just as it is! If I only could!" With an impatient sigh ho turned away. "Always her art, never me; perhaps she is right after all. It would always stand between us." She, not noticing, went on with— "Jf it could only stay long enough for me to catch those colors, but, no, it is fading now.'* Turning, Helen found that her com panion had left her side, and stood a few yards away. "Edwin," she called. In an instant he was beside her, every thing forgotten except that she wa J the woman he loved. "I wanted to tell you how good Mr, Hovey is. It seems that he was ac quainted with poor papa years ago, when I was a baby, and therefore feels quite interested in me. You have heard how he praises my work, and last night he proposed—" "Proposed!" exclaimed Edwin Ben nett hotly. "Why, you don't mean to say that old man actually bad the au dacity to aak you to marry him?" "How ridiculous! How could you think of such a thing?" answered Helen, a ripple ot laughter escaping from be tween her pretty teeth, as she con tinued: "No; he proposed, if I wtre willing, to send me to Italy for two years, he, of course, defraying the greater part of the expenses. He said when I beoams famous I could refund him the little amount if I wished. Was it not gene rous of him! Just think, two years at work among the old masters. What MIbLIIEIM. PA.. THURSDAY. NOVEMBER 23.1882. could I not do then? It would be such a help to me. My little income would do, with care, I think." "And you would go?" AH Edwin Beunett naked this question a look of pain crossed hia face, "Why not?" came the reply, aa Helen rained her eyes questiomngly to her companion. "You say you love me; ana yet you would put the sea between us. Helen, wait; I will work hard and earn money enough to take us both abroad. * l)o you think I could deny you anything. You .should paint to your heart's con teut, from the old masters, or any tiling else you pleased. So long as you were happy, I should be. Perhaps I might turn painter, too, some day, with you to inspire me," he added, smiling slightly, "I do not doubt your loye for me, Edwin; but I shall never marry. 1 intend to devote my life to my art. As a wife it would be impossible for me to do so. 1 should be hindered and tram meled iu a thousand ways. Believe me, I have thought very earnestly of all this, and I—" "Helen, when I ourne to spend my vacation here at Little Bock, so as. to be near you, I said to myself, Now you ask the woman you love to be your wife, and know that you have a home to offer her. For your sake I wish I were rioli; but I am still young; and with the good prospects I have, I do not see why I shall not be able before many } ears to give my wife all she can wish." "It is not that, Edwin. I should not love you one bit the more if you were a millionaire," interrupted Helen, glanc ing reproachfully at him. "Helen, my holiday is over to-morrow. I must have my answer to-night." The words came somewhat slowly from betweeu Edwin Bennett's teeth, Mechanically, with the end of her parasol, Helen Armstrong traced 011 the glittering yellow sands, "Fame versus love." Then, as she became aware of what she had done, she sought to efface them. Too late, Edwiu Bennett's hand stayed hers, as pointing to the letters, he said hoarsely; "Choose!" For a second she hesitated, then slowly came the auawer: "I accepted Air. Hovcy's offer this moruiug. lam to sail iu a week," Spurning her hand from htm, Bdwiu Bennett, cried out passionately: "God forgive you! I cannot!" Then without another word, he turned and left her. A faint cry of "Edwin" escaped her lips, as her arms were held out implor ingly toward him. They thou fell to her side, and she, too, turned .and went slowly across the sands in the opposite direction. If he had looked bacx and seen those outstretched arms, how dif ferent their lives would have been; but no, he plodded angrily along the shore, glancing neither to the right nor the left. Little by little the waves crept up and Love was drowned, while Fame stood out bold aud clear upon the yellow sand. ***** Ten years have come and gone since Helen Armstrong and Edwin Bennett parted on the shore, and daring that time they had never met. Helen had won that which she had striven for. She had become an artist of renown. Even royalty had been pleased to com pliment her upon her art. For the last mouth one of Helen Armstrong's paintings had been 011 exhibition at the Academy of Design, aud crowds had been drawn thither to see this last work of the celebrated art ist. The subject was simple, nothing new, yet visitors returned again and again to gaze at it. It was the last day of the exhibition, when a lady and gentleman, the geutle mau leading a little girl of perhaps three years by the hand, passed iuto the room where the painting huug. "Oh! isn't it too bad there is such a crowd; I wanted to see it!" exclaimed the lady, to which the gentlemau re plied: "We will look at the other pictures first and come back again; perhaps there will not be such a crowd then," An hour or so later the gentleman and lady returned; then the room was almost deserted, except for a few stragglers here and there. It was just about time to close the gallery. For a few moments they stood in si lence, before the painting; then a little voice said: "Baby wants to see, too, papa." Stooping down the gentleman raised the pretty, daintily-dressed child in his arms. Alter gravely regarding the picture for a second; the little one asked. "Is they mad, papa?" "I am afraid one was, pet," came the low answer, as E.lwiu Bennett softly kissed the fair cheek of the little girl. Then his gaae returned to the picture. A stretch of yellow sands, here and there by huge boulders and piles of showy pebbles, against which the over-hangiug cliffs looked almost bleak, Gentle little baby waves rippling in toward the shore, while majestic purple-hued, silver-edged clouds seemed floating en masse toward the golden, crimson-barred sun that flooded the sky and water with its warm light. In the centre of the picture, where the beach formed a curve resembling a horseshoe, was an old boat, turned bot tom upward; some few feet off, the fig ure of a young man, apparently walking hurriedly away. Although the face wan not visible, the gazer felt that the man suffered; that the glorious sunset was this day as naught ta him. Per haps it was in the tightly-clasped hand, the veins of which stoinl oht like great cords, or, maybe the man's apparent diregard of his surroundings. To the right of the picture the figure of n young girl, trailing a parasol in the sand, as she appeared to move slowly iu the opposite direction from her com panion. Only a little bit of a delicately shaped ear and a mass of glossy braids showed from beneath the shade hat, but 0110 could readily btfievo that the pretty girlish figure belonged to an equally attractive face. About naif way betweeu them, traced upon the sands, woie the words, ' Fume versus Love." "Is it not lovely, Edwiu?" and Mrs. Bennett laid her liuud upon her hus band's arm us she added: "Yet how sad it somehow seems. I can't help feeling sorry for them. I wish 1 could see their faces, ] feel as if I wanted to turn them round." Clasping the little hand that rested so coufidiugly upon his arm, Edwin Bennett inwardly thanked God for the gift of his fair young wife, as he said: "Come, dear, they arc commencing to close up. Baby's tired, too." "Ess, me's tired. Baby wants to tiss mamma," lisped the child, holding out her tiny arms. lliibbahii and wife failed to notice a lady who stood hear, gazing at a paint ing. As the pretty young mother stooped down to receive her baby's kisses, which the littlo one lavished on her cheeks, lips and brow, a deep, yearning look gathered in the strange lady's eyes and she turned hastily away. "Oh, Edwin!" exclaimed his wife, as they pasted the silent figure in black. "Wouldu't it bo nice if baby should grow up to be a great artist like this Miss Armstrong." "God forbid, Annie," came the earn est reply, followed by, "let her grow to be a true, loving woman, that is all I ask." The lady's hand tightened its hold upon the back of a settee as the words reached her cars, but she did not move until the V were out. Then lifting her veil sue went and stood before the paiuting that had won suoh fame. Tears gathered m her eyes as she gazed, and with the words, "I will never look at it again," she, too, passed out of the building, and in her own handsome carriage was driven home. Scorn shone in her dark eyes as they fell upon the costly works of art scat tered in lavish profusion about her luxu riously furnished apartments. Hastily throwing aside her wraps, she crossed over to a mirror. A very handsome face it reflected. Not looking the thirty years it had known, Helen Armstrong—for it was she had heard of Edwin Bennett's marriage; heard that he had succeeded iu business beyond his most sanguine expectations; heard that his wife was one of the love liest and gentlest of women, and that El win Bennett idolized both wife aud child. This day she had seen them. Then came the thought that she might have stood iu that wife's place; she, too, might have had those baby lips pressed as loviugly to hers; but she had put it from her. She had chosen Fume versus Love. If she could only go bßck to that day on the sands, how diflereutly she would now act. Turning away from the mirror, she exclaimed, bitterly; "Too late, Helen Armstrong. As you have sowu so must vou reap." Yaver Ami. iaver Agu, tne emiueut Albanian nri gaud chief, Is juat now a iuuch-to-be-pitied mat). He commenced business early 111 the year 1858, ever since which tune he has been actively engaged in the pursuit of his avocations, extending his connec tions steadily until all the banditti of 4 ,he proviuce came to be in his employ und un der Ins supreme command. Having amassed a handsome fortune, his sole re maining ambition was to complete his twcuty-fifth year of his public Oureer in harness, f-o to speak, and then, alter cele brating bis jubilee iestivitv, to retire into private life, carrying with him the respect and esteem of his surviving clients. Wow but for th 3 iucouaidciately precipitate ac tiou of the Turkish auttionties of Janina, the worthy Aga's wholesome ambition would doubtless have been real.z d a yery few months licnce. Unhappily for bis hopes, a milita r y expedition was sent out against bun the other day, which succeed ed after a severe engagement with Yaver's principal hind, in capturing him as well as the managers and cashiers of his several b/aneh establishments, who were iu atten dance upon him with their annual reports of profits und losses at the tune when his retreat was surrouuded and stormed by the Ottoman soldiery. As Yaver Aga has been lorwarded to Btaniboul in chains, thereto he dealt with accord eg to the rigor of ilic law, it may be considered im probable that he will celebrate his jubilee as a free and independent baudit next spring. Let those who will drop a tear over the frustrated aspirations of one whose predatory perseverence has been so ill rewarded by destiny. Professor Outhri • has succeeded In producing a blue-black protective coating on polisued steel by dipping it in melted nitrate or potassium. The bloom greatly improves the appearance of the steel, and it appears to wear well. Scorpions. It is wonderful that oue doesn't lieur of more scorpion stiugs, consider ing how abundant these pernicious in sects ureiu nearly every tropical country. They are fairly hardy, too, and will sur vive a much greater degree of cold than centipedes. One morning, when I had just returned from a voyage and was repacking and arranging some things in my bedroom at the hotel in Southamp ton, a lively, vigorous scorpion fell out of a shell upon my bare foot ; luckily, it roiled off, and the earpet retjeived the emphutie tap of its tail which wus in tended as a delicate attention to myself. A bath Hpouge seems to bo their favorite haunt, and it always belooves one to carefully examine that article be fore getting into one's tub iu regions where these little pests abound. 1 think that over u dozen were killed in my cabin during one fortnight—brought there, no doupt, iu a box of Espirito Santo orehiils from Panama. Cargoes of coir, bales of medicinal woods, bunches of bananas, and other fruits and vege tables iu bulk often introduce them on board vessels, and in old wooden ships especially they will remain and colonize the bulkheads uud interspaces. 1 got a nip once, and only once. Walking the main deck of a steamer lying in Hide Janeiro, loading up with coffee, being barefooted and in the dark, I trod as I thought, on a piece of glass ; but, draw ing my foot up instinctively, I felt the tickling of a scorpion's feet on my heel. It seemed to have curled up after its tail. The local symptoms were about equal in intensity to the bite of a com mon vi]er of the sting of u maribunda, but with less costitutional derangement; the ulcer wus a long time in healing, however. There is a ghastly story told of a gentleman in India, who, pulling on his boots oue morning, ieU a horrid prickly object in one of them. With great presence of muni, lustead ot with drawing it, he forced nis foot violently down and stamped on it furriously. though enduring exquisite agony in the process. But it was not a centipede, only a small blacking brush left there by a careless servant. The Psylli of Pliny and other historians, as well as their modern descendants, who swallow live scorpions and carry them in their caps next their shaven crowns, probably deprived them first of the means of do ing harm, as they serye the venomous serpents with winch they juggle, by by blunting their stings. It is, never theless, very easy to hold a scorpion, and possibly to handle them Ireely, when accustomed to them. Bee how some people can pull about wild rats and bees and ferrets without injury, though taking no apparent precaution. Manipulation ot suakes, too, only re quires a little obseiyance of their weak poiuta and respect for their prejudices, which only glides into insensibility by halut. Bill Arp' lUliv Talk. The poet bath *ai