VOL. LVll. HARTER, AUCTIONEER, MILLHEIM, PA. J C. SPRINGER, Fashionable Barber. Next Door to JOURNAL Store, MILLHEIH, PA. HOUSE, ALIJEOKKXT STREET, HKLLKFONTE, - - - PA c. O. McMILLENt PROPRIETOR. Good Sample Room on First Floor. Ross to and from all Train*. 8peo!al ratea to witnesses and Juror*. *-1 IRVIN HOUSE. (Most Central Hotel In tte CltyJ Corner MAIN and JAY Streeta, Lock Haven, Pa. 8. WOODS CALWELL, Proprietor. Good Sample Rooms for Commercial Travelers on first floor. D. H. MINGLE, Physician and Surgeon, MAIN Street, MILLHKIM, Pa. JOHN F. HARTER, PRACTICAL DENTIST, Office In 8d story of Tomllnsou'i Gro cery Store, On MAIN Street, MILLHKIM, Pa. BF RISTTH, • FASHIONABLE BOOT ft SHOE MAKEB Shop nexf door to Foote's Store, Main St., Boots, Shoes and Gaiters made to order, and sat isfactory work guaranteed. Repairing done prowpt lj and cheaply, and in a neat style. a. T. Alexander. C. M Bower. A BOWER, AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA. Office In German's new building. JOHN B. LINN, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA. Offloe on Allegheny Street. QLEMENT DALE, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BELLEFONTE, FA. Horthwent corner of Diamond. HOY, ATTORNEY AT LAW. ; BELLEFONTE, PA Orphans Court business a Specialty, yy M. C. HEINLE, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BELLKFONTB, PA. Practices In all the court® of Centre county. Bpec.al attention to Collections. Consultation* In German or English. J. A. Beaver J W. Gepbart JgEAVER A GEPHART, ATTORNEYS AT LAW, BELLEFONTE, PA Office on Allegheny street, North of High. Y° cum & HARSIIBERGER, ATTORNEYS AT LAW, BELLEFONTE, PA jq a. S.W.LLIC " ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA Consultations In English or German. Office in Lyon's Building, Allegheny Street. d. h HAsnafOflT - w. f. aiion. JJA&XING3 A REEDER, ATTORNEYS AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA Office on Allegheny treet, two doora east of the offl> e occuuied by the late firm of Y— — * Bast tag*. In order to enjoy the present, it is necessary to be intent oil the present. To be doing one thing, and thinking ef another, is a very unsatisfactory mood of spending life. At the bottom of a good deal of the bravery that appears in the world there lurks a miserable oowardioe. Men wdi iaoe powder and steel because they CS&hot face public opinion. MEMOKIKS. We trend the same hills that our forefathers trod, We slieit the s tme t arsthat our fattiera have shed. We have the same horror of itoanli ig-houae hash, Auilw e wash the a.utte girls that our fathers would uia<h. If they could. We the same sun that for aces has rolled, We listeu to tales that our fort fathers told, The Sitiue inspiration comes down from above That tilled their long lives with beauty and love, This is granted. We breathe the same air that our tathers luhaied, We sail the same waters our fatUt rs have sailed, We've the same high ambitions, the yearning lor fame, And our highest officials get drunk Just the same. Won't they always? ANSON GKI.V. Anson Grey was a still, stern man at i thirty, shut up within himself and by himself, in bis great stone mansion on the hill, and people knew no more about him than they knew about the dead. His early years hud been passed abroad, wkcro, or how, uobody knew and most had ceasea to euro, for that matter; the last tw o had been passed iu Burlingaine. ! A brilliant light at night, shining from the great east windows, and occa sional gallops through the town, by day, were tl e only tokens of his prts euee. However a change was coming and that without warning, Anson Grey fell sick, suddenly and dangerously so. The village doctor was summoned, who in turn telegraphed for another from the neighboring city in hot haste, and together, they said in whbpers, that their patient would pi obably die. There was no woman in the great house to act as nurse, and the head servant, obeying doubtless his master's orders, refused to allow one there as vet. How it came about was a mystery, but one morning, when the master had laid a week hall senseless, an unusual cloud of dust was observed whirling up the hill, and emerging therefrom was a carriage, splashed and weather-stained, headed by two straining, panting horses, who came up to the entrance aw if driyen by the evil one. A lady, tall and lair as sunlight, pushed open the carriage door impatiently and sprang out. With a hasty glance around she hurried up the steps, entered the draw ing-room and stood before the two astonished gentlemen who were seated there. "Is Aiifou Grey alive?" "Yes, but he grows worse." Before they divined her intention, she had passed them, and was in the next room bending over the sick mau. "The devil will be to pay if she ex cites him now," the elder one said, "li some good nurse had come, it might have been of some use; but this dainty thing—bahl" She came out iu a moment, her face white but determined. •'Will you Le kind enough to send for a minister and remain until he comes?" she aked, as she began to remove her things. There was something in her manner that forbade questioning, and they obeyed her like so many dumb men, as they said afterward. The minister did come; William Skinner, the head servant was called, and after the ihree held a private con ference, which seemed to be satisfac tory. they came out and, to tlio amaze ment of all, the lady stood beside Anson Grey end the marriage vows were taken. The wise doctors were mistaken in their estimate of their unknown. She was something besides a fair young lady, as her actions soon proved. A new order of things was instituted in the sick man's room, and his wife in stalled herself as nurse, a change which told lor the I etter. In a month he was ridiiig through the village, with his wife at his side, all eyes, of oouise, agog to catch a g'irapse of her hand some face. All agreed that sho was just an angel, when they came to church the next Sunday, und sat down in ope of the pews like other people, tbey were more than ever confirmed in their opinion. What they never knew was this: Tluee years before, Anson Grey, haughty and indolent, was killing time at one of the fashionable watering places where Edith Wil lough by also lingered, though sorely against her will. A sweet and wondrously fair faoe, much aduured, and sought after, Anson Grty had half a mind to enter the lists with the others, but somethiug kept bun back, and be only exchanged a few words with her now and then. There happened to come a heavy, two days' flood, and the first night of it Edith sent a servant sskmg Mr. Grey to come to a private parlor for a mo ment He obeyed the summons with alacrity, wondering much what could be coming now. Edith was waiting for him, cioaked and hooded, and evidently iu haste to be off somewliei e. "I hope you will pardon me," she said, as she closed the door behind kirn, "but really I did not know whom to ask and mamma will not allow me to go by myself. A poor woman down on the beach is sick, perhaps dying, and I must go to see her. Her little boy just came aiter me. I was there yes terday and they are in great distress. Could 1 trouble you to go with me?" "I will do your errand, It is too 1 stormy lor you to venture out." MILLHEIM. PA.. THURSDAY, MARCH 1.1883. "Oil, it is 110 errand. I am sorry to trouble anybody." Mr. Grey saw what was wanted, and saying lie would be buck directly, van ished for his ruhl>or suit. The rain drove into their faces, and the wind howled through tlie dark night like the minister of a thousand storms —not for a poor tislierwomau, perhaps, but for one us good as fair Edith Wil loughby. he should not have hesitated a moment. When they oame upon the beach the waves fairly leajnd into their faces, aiul Edith shivered and clung half terrified to In r companion ill spite of herself, "1 believe you had better return now, and leave it to mo," he said. "No, wo are almost there. I should never forgive myself if I did " she answered, catching her breath as she spoke. "It is only you I am worried about." "I am glad to be able to help you," he said. And I think he sjxikc the truth. Inside the cottage poor Grace Pooley lay on her hard bed trying to breathe on a little longer, if so the good God might send some good friend before she died, to care for her oiphan boy. When the door opened her eyes brightened, and she raised up a little. "The Lord bless ye for coming, 1 know lie will," she said as Edith threw off her wet covering and went toward her. "Tins is only one of the boarders who same with me," she said in reply to the woman's questioning look. "1 should have come to-day had 1 known that you were worse." She sat down beside the bed, and Anson Grey watched her us she sioke in a low, tender voice to the grateful weman. Among the words which see could distinguish was a promise to he to Jamie; aud when the old woman who seenn d to be nurse came up to administer somethiug, and in a half whisper asked Edith to pray with them, he began to tlnuk he was in auother world. Aud it was another to him truly. Surely she would never do that. But she did. Kneeling upon the bale floor, clasping her white hands, she sent up such a prayer for help and strength as Anson Grey had never dreamed of hearing before. After that night Anson Gaey knew where liis heart was, but for his life he dared not approach Edith. She m emed an immeasurable distance from such as he, but he cherished the memory of her prayers as the one glimpse iuto heaven for which he should thank God all his life. Edith's mother was a gay woman, and such sho meant her daughter to be, though for her lifo she could not keep hor from ferreting out and helping also, an innumerable number of forlorn, poverty stricken people who had no earthly claim upon her. as they went their fashionable rounds. It was mor tifying, even exasperating, but she was powerless to prevent it. They were to be off again soon, Anson Grey heard; but he would have missed seeing her had he not aocidently met her as she was hurrying up tne beach toward their boarding house on the very day they left. He could not let her go without telling her what was in his heart, "May I speak to yon a moment?" he said abruptly stopping her, "Certainly." As the words left her lips she saw what his speaking was going to be. "Oh, not that, Mr. Grey!" Somehow he took courage from the quick paling of her lips, "Yes that I love you and want you for my wife." "I am to be marriea Christmas." He turned and was leaving her, when something made her speuk. "Mr. Grey." He faced her again aud blie saw how white and stein he looked. "Hail I been tree you would not have asked iu vain." "For days and weeks afterward, An son Grey hugged the memory of her look, as she said those blessed woids, to his heart, caring more for that than for the love and caresses of any other. Ohristmas came, but death came with it, and Edith's lover went his long journey, leaving his affianced bride and her scheming mother to console them selves as best they might. In away mysterious to all save Will iam Skinner, Edith heard of Anson Grey's illness, and, as we have seen, went to him and had the courage to be come his wife. The people of Burlingame learned to love the gentle mistress of the old stone mansion on tlio hill, aud never a suffering one calied for help in vain, as long as "my lady" as they culled her, was mistress there. Siberia. lu St. Petersburg was celebrated on December 18, the three hundredth anniversary of Russian rule iu Siberia. December 18 was chosen as the day for this celebration, not because it was the exact date of the acquisition, but be cause it was the name-day of the young heir apparent, Nicholas Alexandrowitch, the exact Siberian date being uuknown to Russian history. * nh<>KK>tn|i>g. The toboggan, or Indian sleigh, is made from l"iig, fiat strips of hickory of a thickness of from one-eighth to one quarter of an inch and from eighteen inches to thirty inches wide, according to d sire, while the length may vary from three to seven feet. The long strips that are fastened together to make the desired width are turned up at one and, after the manner of tlie old Dutch or "turn-up" skntqof twenty years ago. Upon the toboggan may bo placed a cushion or not as to choice. Generally there is a vary ginxl cushion on each. The steering is done by the gentleman m charge of the toboggan, who sits in the stem of tlio ex...(, with his cargo of ladies fair in front of him, Some to boggans w ill hold five or six adults very comfortably. All who inukb the trip get upon the toboggan, just on the brow of tlie lull or slide. The steersman is the last to embarla Ho is supplied with a sharp pointed hickory stick, about lour iuohes long, one held in each hand. He is gently pushed over the top of the slide with his freight of ladies. If he finds his craft vor to the right he strikes hard with the right hand stick into the snow to bring her straight again. All the time he and his tolxiggan are careering toward the foot of the hill like the wiud, and ho must l>e clever if he would miss an upset. His bevy of fair damsels do not like to be upset and rol - led unceremoniously over the generally frozen surface of the hillside. Thus he exerts all his energies, and if he is strong and clever brings his craft safely to the lull bottom. Then there is a walk back in the moonlight or the torchlight to the summit of the hill and the ride is repeated. Lut while the steersman must know his business in regard to tlie safety of his craft he must also be accomplished in the knowledge of how to upe.'t the toboggan into a sott snow bank, Some of the jolliest of the parties rather like to be suddenly hurled into each other's arms in that manner, and have their stout beaux pull ttiem out again. The advantage of ihe toboggan over the bobsled is that on the former a spill means only a shake or two. As the tobogganer skims along with only an inch between his body and the snow he has not far to fall when the upset comes. Woe betide him, though, fhonlri he run into a trie, A few lives huvo been lost in this way by reckless and venturesome gentlemen. Graudpa. The grandpa is an individual, aged somewhere betweeu 50 and 100 years, of u promiscuous temperament, and is a common occurrence iu all well-regu lated families. Next to a healthy mother-in-law, they have more active business on hand tnau any other party in the household. They are the stand ard authority on all leading topics, and what tliey don't know about tilings that tooa place sixty-five ve.irs ago, or will take place for the next sixty-five years to come, is a damage for any man to know. Grandpas are not entirely use less ; tliey are liaudy to hold babies aud feed the pigs, uud are very smart at mending a broken broom-haudle, and sifting coal ashes, and are good at put ting up olothos-liues on washing days. I have seen grandpas that could churu good, but I consider it a mighty mean trick to set an old fellow of 80 years to churning butter. lam a grandpa my self, but I wou't churu butter lor no concern, not if I uuderstan d myself. I am solid on this conclusion as a graven image. lam willing to rock baby aO the time while the women folks are boil ing soap, lam willing to cut rags to work up iuto a rag carpet, they oau keep me hunting hens' eggs wet days, or picking green currants, or 1 will even dip caudles, or core apples for sauce, or turn a grind-stone, but, by thunder, I won't churn. 1 have examined my self on this subject, aud I will bet a jack-knife, so long ns he remains in his right mind, Josli Billings won't churn. As a general thing grandpas are a set of conceited old fools who don't seem to realize that what they know them selves is the result of experience, and that younger people have got to get their knowledge in the same way. Grandpas are poor help at bringing up children ; they have got precept and catechism) enough, but the young oqes all seem to understand that grandpa minds them a heap uiore than they miud grandpa. FOR youog catt'e feed one ot tiesh to 8 uf htat-producimr substances, and to older animal 3 give cue to six. Most of the food of young cattle go to make up bone and muscle, ieuvmg about third oiaiss manure; the food of half-grown animals goes to make flesh mostly, leaving second-class manure; the food of mature animals goes to make fat and support life, the excess becoming first-class manure, exclusive of water. Chemically animals coming to maturity wil'eat about one-tilth ol their own weight per day. Never let a man imagine he can pur sue a good end by evil means, without sinning agaiust his own soull Auy other issue is doubtful; the evil effect upon himself is oertain. It is not in the storm nor in the strife, W T e feel benumbed and wish to be no more. But in the after-silence on the shore, Wheu ail is lost except a lit tin life. Mora Moat. No producer need fear becoming tlio owner of too mauy cattle or other meat producing animals, provided ho is so situated as to give them proper care and maintain a profitable growth at all seasons. The very poorest—those who formerly seldom bought meats—now swarm about the retail shops and buy shank bones, rib tps, tlank pieces and all anything that will make a boil, a stew, or work into a soup. The rapidly increasing population of our cities is made up very largely of the laborers and operators from foreign countries a class of people who ate but very little meat in iheir own country many of them none at all. Increased wages, with an advantage in the price of meats here, compared to that in their own country, prompts tliern to eat meat; and this class of cousumijrs alone ab sorb an enormous amount of the lower grades of mot every day. Under the various demands, gradu ated by taste and purse, the retail butchers arc enabled to assort their cuts as the grocer assorts his coffee, there be ing ready buyers for each grade—some cuts going as readily at twenty to twenty-five cents as others do at seven or eight cents. The canning of meats ojHUis a market for such low grades of meat, as hardiy any butcher, no matter who his customers are, would tolerate upon his hooks. This trade being, as it is carried on, very profitable, enables cattle growers to close out unthrifty, thin, animals, getting, in the absence of any fat, the lull market value for skin, shrunken muscles, tendon, bone and offal. The accumulation of this class of stock upon the farm affords a lesson tliut no observing farmer can fail to profit by. as ho has had ample op portunity of seeing that lie can no more grow good, profit-yielding m eat upon the class of stock referred to, t an a thrifty crop ot corn upon a dry, sandy knoll. If beef, to meet the demands of tlie lower grade of consumers and cauners, could be prcsluced at a cost in keepiug with its selling valus, then there would be some apology for growing it. The manufacturer makes a light article of cloth to meet the demaud from a cer tain class of consumers. He weaves into this fabric cheap material, makes it light, and sells by tlio yard, in place of selling Ly the pound. As a rule, he is supposed to make a higher relative profit upon the low-priced goods. But, unfortunately for the farmer, ho has no low-priced material to weave in. The grass that will grow and fatten a steer at three cents, will, with greater rapid ity, grow one ut six cenus; and what is true of grass is equally true of grain feed. laiyortnut Dlftcorerie*. Among the Ciisldeau cylinders re cently discovered by Mr. ILssain in the course of his excavations in Babylonia, and upon which Mr. Theophilus G, Pinches read a most interesting paper at a recent meeting of the London So ciety of Biblical Archaeology, is one of the most remarkable yet found, by rea son of the light it throws upon the an cient Chronology of the Chaldean Em piro. It dates from the time of Nabo uides, and records, among other things, that thiH sovereign, digging under the foundations of the Temple Sun God at Siparo, forty-five years after tlie death of King Nebuchadnezzar, came upon a cylinder ol Naramsi J, the son of Sargon, which no one had seen for "3200 years.'' This gives as the date of the ancient sovereign named 3,750 B, C. This, and the fact pointed out by Professor Oppert, who was present, that there was in those early days already "lively intercourse between Chaideaand Egypt,' will have to be taken into account by future Bilile critics. It is certain (says the Jewit</i World) somewhat to modify the vulgar conception—due in the first place to Dean Stanley—of Abraham, tlio founder of the Jews, as a wandering Arab Sheikh, a kind of nomad Bedouin as he exists in our day. The existence more than 5500 years ago of two highly ciyilized and highly cultivated Empires in Egypt aud Chaldea; the fact that constant intercourse was going on be tween the two; again, that the high road between tliern led direct through Southern Palestine, aud that Abraham was a native of the one great Empire and an honored vbitor in the other, cannot but serve to modify in no slight degree our notions of the wandering sheikh to whom we own our origin. That he would have been unaffected by the culture iu winch lie was born, and the rival civilizations between which he lived, is hardly likely. Altogether the discovery to which Mr. Pinches has called attention may opeu up a new field for investigation iu the matter of Akkad and Akkadian civilization. Murlb Africa. The territory of the Kroumirs inNortn Africa, a fertile country, rich in miner als and wood, became, after the French occupation, almost a desert, as the no mad tribes took flight, Steps were soon taken by the French to encourage Euro pean immigration, each immigrant being offered, lree of charge, ground suitable to build a house upon, and live or six acres lor cultivation. The result has already been that 250 families of various nationalities are established in the county on these conditions, while the number i? "Hireasiug every day. "plan* Rfll*'* Physician. Clara Belle thus wrote in relation to thin pale womcu "My friend Laura 1 found it pleasant to be thin and pale, because she is not striking beautiful, and in appearance wits slowly fading away, like a broken lily. Thus she created an iiiturest that she could not otherwise have enjoyed. Laura is a dear, good girl, and 1 point out this weakness solely because I mean to make her case au il lustration of some things that my readers ought to know. When she found that ner etherealness was Jikely to kill her, she made up her miud that she was a kind of lily that preferred to have her stalk strengthened up, so that she might bloom awhile longer. There fore, she consented to go with me to my physician. He is a plain-spoken old fel low, and when I explained that Laura was not realty sick, but only a drooper, a die-away, a langnisher. he held her hand up betweeu his eyes and the light and said: "There is no flesh and blood there—only skin and bone. She lacks vitality," Then he was informed, iu auswer to his questions, that she did not keep late hours, nor live exclusively or caramel", nor lace tightly, ror commit any other of the common female sins against health. "The fact is," said the doctor, "that tight lacing is very rarely carried to an injurious extent nowadays, and late hours by women are usually followed by | plenty of sleep in the day-time. The worst thing that fashionuble women do, as a rule, is in changing from warm covering to nakedness. You go about all day enveloped in a sealskin saeque, which keeps you in a Turkish bath, ! opening every pore in vour body, ami then at night you go to u ball or party with your arms and part of your body bare. Colds are bound to follow." Laura protested that she never wore decollete dresses, aud the doctor might have guessed as much by her scrawni uess, if he had used auy sense cutside of the metrical liue. "How do you sleep?" he asked. "Splendidly," she replied, "nine or ten hours without a dream; but when 1 awake 1 have a dreadful headache." "What is your bedroom like?' 1 I had seen this prettiest of imaginable nests, and I chipped in with a descrip tion of it. Notmug could be wroug about the ventilation, I declared, for the windows were high ana broud, and were left open over night. The bedstead was carved all over in solid rosewood; the mattress was filled with freshly curled hair and rested on springs; the linen was of the whitest and finest; the blankets were a gift from California, where the sol teat and warmest are made. The recollection of the down pil lows threw me into rapturous praise of the undressed silk of which their cover ings w ere made, and their elaborate em broidery. The edges were finished with fine silk oord, careiuily avoiding any thing that would keep the cushion in shape, for it was expected to yield aud expand to every movement of the head. They were a little more than a half yard square, and covered with Indian silk of a crushed strawberry tint, on which were scattered designs in neatly worked darning stitches, taken close together, and the— "Hold on," interposed the doctor; "you are not wntiug a fashion letter, just now. Have you ever seen Laura asleep in this wonderfully beautilul bed? ' "Yes. only yeaterdav"morning," "Where was her nose?" "Let me see. Oh, yes; it was under the blankets." "1 always sleep that way."' said Laura, "I cover my head when 1 get iuto bed, aud it stavs so all night." "Probably that causes ail the trouble,' said the doctor. "lou munage to ven tilate your room properly, and then manage to breathe vitiated air for eight or teu hours every night. Stop it. Sleep with your head uncovered for a week, and then let me know how vou feel." She folio wed his advioe, and at the end of a week felt first rate. Au Old Lamp. A Japanese lamp, supposed to be twelve hundred years old, m the collec tion of the Mikado of Japan, is described by l)r. Christopher Dresser in his book on Japan, "lu this lamp the oil is stored in the body of a rat, which sits upon the top of a pole. Half way down the pole and resting on a projecting bracket is a saucer, in the centre of which is a pin that connects it with the bracket on which it rests. In this sau cer, and leaning over its side, is a wick, When the saucer is tilled with oil and tlie wick is lit we have a lamp which ex hibits no peculiar qualities till most of tlie oil has been consumed. Then sud deuly a stream which suffices to replen ish the now nearly exhausted saucer, issues from the mouth of the rat. The saucer beiug full,'no more oil is dis charged from the rat's mouth till it is again nearly empty, wheu the kind crea ture sitting 'up aloft* yields a further i supply, and so ou till its store of oil ic exhausted. The manner in which this is achieved is simple, although the effect produoed is curious, for it is only an applieariou of the principle of the vent peg or pipet, whereby llunl cannot run lroni a vessel unless air is admitted to take its place. The peg which rises in the centre of the saucer and attaches it to tne support on which its rests termi nates in a kuob or cap; but the peg is hollow, and is connected with the body of the rat by a tube which runs along the bracket, and then ascends through the stand to the upper portion of the rat's hody. The pin which stands in the centre of the saucer, it should be noticed, is perforated immediately below its eap, or about half au inch above the bottom of ti>e saucer. It is obvious, then, that when the oil sinks to a point at which this hole is exposed air will enter, and thus allow the oil to run out of the rat's mouth; but when this hole is again covered by oil, no further air is admitted, and, therefore, no more oil can run from the rat's mouth." —John Wali'ord, age 103 years, voted at the recent election in Pike ceunty, Ky. MeQrortfi Lunch. Ex-Alderman MoGroarty keeps a bouse of eating and drinking in Brook- Jvn. It is a feature of ex-Alderman Mc- Groarty's management to place on the side table as early even as six o'clock in the morning a splendid free lunch. The writer sawjthis lunch and was amazed at its variety and substantiality. It con sisted of a huge dish of olives, nicely viuegarod, a dish of onions, ditto, a bowl of fresh crackers, one plate of corned beef in slices, and one plate of ham ditto. "That la an excellent spread," said the reporter. ••Yes" answered MoGroarty, compla cently ooming to the tahel bearing a huge diah of chioken'salad fresh ana juicy "Yes we always set a lunch every day, and this afternoon in addition there will be three big dishes of sandwiches and some clam-chowder." "What's that, hey?* said a voice at the other end of the store, uttered by a man who had just entered." He was a tall cadaverous-looking man in i seedy black coat and tail hat. " r hat's tha*, hey?" "I say that we always set a lunch here," replied McGroarty, "and that this afternoon, l>eside this, we shall have three big dishes of sandwiches and some clam chowder." "Uh, indeed," said the long mail. "Certainly; "a very good idea, indeed; very good." Saving which he walked to the counter and took up TH* MOUN TS'O JOCTBXAXI, but he didn't call for any thing to drink. Mr. McGroarty went behiud the bar again and resumed his busiuess of wash ing glasses, hxiag up the bar, etc., etc. The tall man eyed him furtively for a moment or two, and then edged toward the side table. Presently the wooden fork was deep into the olives, then it plunged into tiie onions, anon into the chickt n salad. As an additional relish he took an occasional nibble at the ham and beef, only byway of a refresher. The proptietor didn't notice him. He was busy with his glasses and things, and was keeping npta desultory conver sation with the reporter while still at work. "You set quite a fine lunch here," said the tall man. "Oh, yes," said the unsuspecting McGroai ty from the other end of the bar, "we find it pays to bo liberal." "Of course it does," said the other en thusiastically; "of course it does.'' With which he waiaed up to the lunch table and began again to ply his fork. But McGroarty said nothing. He was as innocent as a child unborn of what was going on. "What time did you say the sandwiches came on?" said the tail man, looking up nervously at the dock. "Oil, in the afternoon some time." "11l drop ui," said the tall man. "Yes, do," said McGroarty, giving an extra flourish to a beer glass, and hold ing it up to the light to see that there was not a speck on it. "That's excellent ham," said the tall man, with a cuoice morsel at the end of his fork! (He had got to the ham, now, exclu sively. The vegetables had gone.) "Yes, it is," answered McGroarty. "We always get our hams at the " He stopped short. His eyes roiled all over the lunch table. His mouth opened. His ears flapped. His hair stood on end. He couldn't speak. His knees shook beneath him. He came round that counter like a rickety locomotive going round a bad curve. He glared at ths tall man. "Sa-y!" said lie, after re ooverwg the power of speech. "Where's those olives?" shouted Mc- Groarty in an awful voice. The tall man smiled pleasantly. "Ha! ha!" he laughed, "Very good; very good, indeed. By Jove. Bunnell the museum man, would engage you." "Bunnell be hanged!" roared Mo- Groarty. "Where's the olives? where's the onions? wnere's yes, by Jove," he screamed, as he notioed another ab sentee; "where's the beet?" with which he made a terrible rush at the long man's coat-tails, expecting that the viands were concealed about his person. So they were, but not outside. The tall man bore the inspection with great calmness, sucking a piece of cracker out of a hollow tooth the while. Then McGroarty fell back and assumed an oratorical attitude. The tall man was evidontly pained at Mr. MoGroarty's agitation, and left pre cipitately. "That settles it," said the ex-Alder man. "Not a scrap—not a snifter of anything to eat—does anybody get here after, this until the afternoon, if I lose all the trade I've got." Various old friends of the proprietor have sought to change the propietor's mind, thus far, but without suocess, Fond ot slirinips. The bulletin of the United State 3 hah commission for the last year con tains an account of the shrimp fisher ies of the Pacific coast, which are con trolled almost entirely by the Chinese. The part of each day's catch which is not sold is carried to the Chinese quar ter and there put at once into boiling brine. The shrimps are then spread out to dry upon level plats of smooth, bare ground. After four or five days they are crushed under largo wooden pestles or trod upon by the Chinese in wooden shoes, for the purpose of loos ening the meats from the outer chiti nous covering; after which the entire mixture is put through a fanning mill, for the actual separation of the meats from the shells. About 200,000 pounds of shrimps are sold annually in San Francisco, and the annual exports of shrimp meats to China and the Sand j wich Islands are valued at about SIOO,- 000. The meats are eaten by all claa | see in China, but they are cheaper and ' less esteemed than the native shrimps, which are said to be compararively scarce. —The population of Borne under the empeiora greatly exceeded a million. NO. 9.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers