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MUSSER'S BUILDINGK
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" MILLHEIM JOURNAL."
Beyond the Mountains.
Beyond the mountains—ah! beyond
How tair in fancy glen ma
The valley with its spreading fields,
The glint of winding streams!
Beyond the purple mountain's high!
Stray all our happy dreams.
We sit beneath the moaning pine,
Hy waves that pass our door;
We sny, this scone is tair, and yet
We s'g'i for something more;
AnCt long to pass with eager feet
The tar-off mountains o'er.
At eve the night bird faintly sings,
In murmurs sweet and low;
The new moon's slender oie*ceut gives
The sky a tender glow.
Ilow fair the stars, how warm the wind,
How soft the rivor'a flow!
But there, whore longing fancy flies.
And wayward hearts still turn,
A (le. per music chaims the soul,
The ml stars brighter burn;
And laughing streams go loaping down
From nooks o'er hung with fern.
When heavy clouds nl>ove us roll,
I>iu. skit s are over there;
When storm-winds lret around our eaves,
There zephyrs whisper fair.
Beyond the mountains—ah! beyond
Love fills the sunny air.
Overland Monthly.
A COMEDY OF ERRORS.
Squire Packenhui was very angry.
Being a member cylhechurch hedidn't
swear. But he slummed the kitchen
door so violently when he came in.that
Keturah, his wife, comprehended at
once that something was wrong.
"Bear me, A brain," said she, mildly,
looking up from the apples she was
slicing for pan-dowdy, "there ain't no
occasion to take the door off its hinges-
What's the trouble now?"
"It's Betsey Briggs," answered the
equire, seating himself, with some
vehemence, on a cushioned chair.
"The airs that creetur gives herself ex
ceed everything."
"Airs?" said Mrs. Packenham. "I
didn't know as them was Betsey
Briggs' weaknesses."
"I dunno what you'll call it," said
the squire. "She was out in the gar
den pickin' peas, an' I jest hollered to
her, as I come by, to see if she'd be
willin' to entertain the sewin' society
at her house next Thursday. And, i 1
vou'U believe me, she didn't say a
word. Neither yes nor no!"
"Well, I never!" said Mrs. Packen
oam. "But," with a gentle desire for
extenuation, "you mustn't forget.
Abram, that Betsey Briggs is near"
sighted."
"That don't prevent her liearin,"
floes it?" sharply demanded the squire.
"I didn't think o' that," said meek
Mrs. Packenham, rejecting a golden,
summer apple, which had a bruise on
its mellowest side. "But I'm quite
sure Betsey didn't mean no harm.
Betsey never docs!"
"I dunno how that may be," said
ihe squire, morosely. "But Ido know
1 shan't put myself out to speak to her
ag'in, unless she sees fit to apologize.
"I can't make it out at all," said Mrs.
Packenham, slowly shaking her head.
Miss Carter was the next person
who stopped at the Packenham house.
She was a spare female, whose exact
age, like that of the obelisk, was
wrapped in mystery, and she was a
book-agent of the most rabid type, and
deadly execution.
"P'raps you'd like to subscribe to the
•Housekeeper's Weekly Visitor,' Mis'
Packenham," said she, rounding off her
sentences with a prodigious sniff.
"Wal, no!" said Mrs. Packenham.
"We aren't much o' readers here."
"Or maybe your husband would like
to take a copy of the 'Ten Leading
American Patriots V' " suggested Miss
Carter, still struggling with her
catarrhal difficulty.
"Abram don't read nothin' but the
newspapers," said Mrs. Packenham.
His eyesight ain't what it was and—"
"Who's your neighbor down under
the hill?" sharply interrupted Miss
Carter. "Just beyond the brook, where
the bridge is so out of repair?"
"Her name is Briggs," said Mrs.
Packenham—"Betsey Briggs!"
"Well, whoever she is," snorted Miss
Carter, "she hasn't no more manners
than a mooly cow. Not to notice me,
even, and mestandin' there talkin' my
self hoarse to her. Not even to turn
her head to look at me!"
"Dear, dear!" said Mrs. Packenham,
"that's very strange! Betsey's a dread
ful sociable creetur. That don't seem
like her a bit."
"Well, that don't signify," said Miss
Carter, seating nerself, and opening
lier leather packet. "But I'd just like
you to look at a few recent publications
I've got here."
"Oh, don't trouble to show 'em to
me!" said Mrs. Packenham, apprehen
sively. "I hain't no money to buy nor
time to read; and the churnin's behind
hand, this mornin', and I've got soft
soap to make."
"It won't take a minute," persua
sively argued Miss Carter.
And she sat two mortal hours in the
souire's kitchen, and made Mrs. Pack -
Ite BttUhrim Journal,
DEININGER & BUMILLER, Editors and Proprietors
VOL. LYII.
enham subscribe to the 'Housekeeper's
Weekly Visitor,' for a term of three
years, before she departed.
"Betsey Briggs managed her the
best way," groaned Mrs. Packenham,
as she looked into the recesses of her
empty pocket-book. "What will Abram
say f
The clergyman, a slender, dyspeptic
man of six-aiul-twenty, stopped at the
garden-gate to give lister Briggs a
friendly good-afternoon, that day, but
she did not return his polite greeting,
lie repeated it a little louder, and still
she took no note of his spectacled-gaze
and new silk hat.
"I hope I haven't offended her in
any way," said Mr. Sweetlands to him
self; and he tried to think back to the
sentences of his last sermon about gos.
sips and meddlers. "I don't think 1
said anything which she could by any
possibility apply to herself. Miss
Briggs—Miss Briggs. I say!"
lie waited a minute or so for a reply
which did not come; then he sighed
mildly, and walked on.
"These single sisters are perhaps a
tritle ditlicult to manage." said he
"But doubtless experience will smooth
my pathway in time."
And, naturally enough, the Rev. Mr*
Sweetlands stepped in at Sister Pack
enham's to ask her how she thought
he could possibly have offended Miss
Betsey Briggs.
And just as he was detailing in Mrs.
Paekenham's puzzled ears the tale of
his perplexity, a stout, elderly man,
with a §ea faring aspect, rapped at the
door with the knobby handle of his
ragged stick.
"Ahoy, there!" said Captain Giles
Gilliloe. "I hope 1 ain't intriulin', but
these is all strange waters to me.
I've just hailed a neighbor n* craft
Betsey Briggs by name, and she don't
lower no signals. P'raps I've sighted
the wrong coast."
"Miss Briggs lives at the next house!"
Mrs. Packenham said. "That's true
enough."
"I'm her cousin," said Captain Giles
Gilliloe. "She has invited me to moor
my craft in these parts for a while,
but I ain't used to heave anchor along
side o' thein as don't speak to me civil.
And 1 hope I've made my log-book
clear."
"1 really can't account for it," said
Mrs Packcnbnm, with a troubled ex
pression of countenance. "Set down,
Cap'en Gilliloe. I've often heard her
speak of you, and I'm sure she wouldn't
intend any Incivility. Set down and
have a chat with Mr. Sweetlands, our
minister, .and I'll step over to Betsey's
at onee and see what all this means."
The sun had gone down in the crim
son blaze which belongs only to July
skies—a soft purpling twilight was
brooding over the swamp meadow, and
the orange lilies glowed mystically in
the apple orchard, as Mrs. Packenham
hurried toward the old Brigg's home
stead, whose chimney stack rose out of
a wilderness of tall lilac bushes. There
sure enough, was Miss Betsey in the
vegetable garden, her sunbonnet dap
ping in the evening breeze, but just as
Mrs. Packenham laid her hand on the
latch of the picket gate, Bowse, Far
mer Pond's lug red bull, knocked his
horns against a weak spot in the adja"
cent pasture fence, and came thunder
ing into the inclosure with his tail in
the air, his huge head lowered almost
to the ground and a low-muttered note
of defiance breathed through his threat
ening nostrils.
"La, me!" cried Mrs. Packenham,
"there's that brute loose again! And
not a man in sight. And Betsey
Briggs with her red caliker gown on.
She'll be killed as sure as the world.
Oh, dear, oh, dear!"
As the reflection eddied through her
mind, the animal made an infuriated
charge toward the figure darkly out
lined against the hedge of silver-green
pea-vines, uttering a savage bellow as
he rushed past, and Mrs. Packenham
hurried, screaming, down the hill.
"Abram! Mr. Sweetlands! Cap'en
Gilliloe!" she shouted. Help! help!
Oh, why don't somebody come? Far
mer Pond's Bowse has knocked poor
Betsey Briggs down into the pea-vines,
and is a-gorin' her awful! Help! help!
help! She'll be killed, as true as the
world! Help! help!"
Just as she burst into the door at the
end of the kitchen, the opposite one
opened, and in walked—Betsey Briggs
herself, cool, calm and composed, with
a veil folded neatly over her clove color
ed silk hat, and a traveling-bag in her
hand.
Mrs. Packenham sat down, and
began to laugh and cry hysterically;
Mr. Sweetlands opened his pale-blue
eyes like watery moons; the squire
stared; Captain Gilliloe held out his
two brown hands and waved a fore
castle welcome.
Miss Betsey looked around in gentle
astonishment.
"Dear me!" said she. "What is the
matter ? What is everybody looking at
me so for? How d'ye do, Cousin
Giles? Why don't you go on to the
house? I thought you was eomin' to
make mo a visit!"
"I—l don't make out this here
reckon in' at all," said Captain Gilliloe,
scratching his puzzled head. Some
how the wrong signals have been
swung out. Hut it's all right now--
aye, aye, it's all right now! The
iigure-head of the Hetsey Briggs can't
be mistook!"
"I've just been up to Albany," ex
plained Miss Betsey, "to order a new
parlor carpet. 1 went up
and came down on the evening train;
and—"
"But, Betsey," cried Mrs. Paeken
haui, clutching spasmodically at her
friend's arm, "who is that in your back
garden--gathering peas, you know?
For, as true as you live and breathe.
Farmer Pond's Bowse has trampled
her to death by this time."
"That! Oh, that's my wire dummy*
as 1 had when I worked at the dress
makin' trade. 1 just dressed it up in
Some of mv obi clothes, as a kind of a
scarecrow-like, to keep the pigeons
from stealing the green peas right out
of my pods. They're the sauciest
creatures in all the world. Why, you
didn't never take it for a live person,
did you ':"
And everybody laughed in chorus,
the more heartily as their folly becam e
apparent to them.
"1 declare to goodness, 1 was (loan
out of my latitude and longitude,"
said the sea-captain, with a chuckle.
"Appearances arc deceitful," said
mild Mr. Sweet lands, rubbing his
hands.
"I won't never believe my own eyes
ag'in!" shouted the squire.
And then they all three went to
drive the belligerent Bowse out of Miss
Briggs' vegetable garden, and to patch
up the defective pickets in the fence,
and Miss Betsey herself sat down to
drink a comfortable cup of tea with
Mrs. Packenham.
"For I'm sure 1 need one, after all
I've been through," said the squire's
wife.
"Well, I declare," said sympathetic
Miss Betsey, "it must ha' been a trial.
I won't never put that dummy out
ag'in."— Ba t u rday Nigh t.
An Ostrich's Nest.
After pairing, the ostrich begins to
make bis nest. It is the male alone
that performs this duty. To do this it
squats upon the ground, and balancing
itself upon its breast bone, it scratches
up the earth with its legs and throws
the sand behind it. When it has dug
out enough on one side to suit it, it
turns around and begins to dig on
another side, and continues this opera
tion until it has made a hole large
enough for it to sit in comfortably.
A few days after the nest is finished
the female begins to lay one egg on
every alternate day for eighteen or
twenty days. She then rests for a
while, which time varies from four to
ten days, and then begins to lay more.
A pair of ostriches yield forty eggs-
This is only the minimum number,
which is always reached. It is not un
usual for a well fed, well kept pair to
yield fifty and even sixty eggs. The
eggs are placed so as to leave no space
between them. They are sat upon at
first for several hours each day, and
finally altogether. Tho male and the
female brood alternately. At night
the nuile is always on the nest, as it
possesses greater warmth than the
female. When the birds relieve each
other on the nest the new comer turns
over each egg. in order that the portion
which has lain against the nest shall
receive the warmth of the brooder.
These birds perform tlieir duties with
the greatest skill, without any noise or
breakage of the eggs. They squat
down, and with their head and neck
rake up and overturn every one of the
eggs, one after the other, without neg
lecting a single one.
The incubation lasts forty-five days
on an average, sometimes fifty days
but never continues beyond that]
When the chicklings hatch out they
can be heard trying to break the shell
of the egg. Sometimes they succeed in
doing so, but usually the father break 3
the egg under his breast bone, and
seizing with his bill the inside skin,
tears it and frees the chickling. Upon
first reaching the air the chickling re
mains limp and weak. But the warmth
of the parents soon revives it, and a
few hours aftenyard it begins to run
about the nest, exercising its long legs,
tottling over at each step, recommenc
ing again its stumbling journey. Four
days after they are hatched the chick
lings begin to eat. They run after
insects and swallow small pebbles.
The father and mother do not help their
little ones find food.
There are six equestrian statues in
Washington—more than in any other
city in the world. They are of
Washington Jackson, Greene, Scott,
McPherson and Thomas.
MILLHEIM, FA., THURSDAY, JULY 26, 1883.
PEARLS OF THOUGHT.
We never deceive for a good purpose.
Knavery adds malice to falsehood.
However things may seem, no evil
thing is success, and no good thing is
a failure.
Genius is essentially creative, it
bears tho character of the individual
who possesses it.
Tho light of friendship is the light
of phosphorous —seen plainest when
all around is dark.
lie is truly great that is little in
himself, and that inaketh no account of
any height of honors.
Envy is a passion so full of coward
ice and shame that nobody ever had
the confidence to own it.
lie that wrestles with us strength
ens our nerves and sharpens our skill.
Our antagonist is our helper.
Choose always the way that seems
the best, however rough it may be.
Custom will render it easy and agreea
ble.
False friends are like our shadows,
keeping close to us while we walk in
the sunshine, but leaving us the in
stant we walk in the shade.
Humor and pathos Twin lakes
which lie side lW side in the heart, the
one gleamed of the sunlight, the other
gleamed of the same sunlight's shade.
When you are looking at a picture
you give it the advantage of a good
light. Be at least ;LS courteous to your
fellow creatures as you are to a picture.
Keep your promise to tlie letter, be
prompt and exact, and it will save you
much trouble and care through life,
and win you the respect and trust of
your friends.
"BOOMTOIYN."
The Furore for l,a<t Kpfrnlnllng In the
il'oithwrit Ui|ilifcnll) lfllne*led.
The great northwest is entered
through the gatew ay of St. Paul. There
the traveler first hears of Boomtown,
the "Portals of the Sunset," the "Fa
vorite of Fortune," the "Gem of the
Great Golden Northwest," the "Love,
lit . i t Spot in the Land of Light." the
"Plucky Pioneers' Paradise upon the
Productive Prairies." Not only are the
allurements and advantages of Boom
town advertised in alliterative prose,but
the real-estate man also drops into
poetry, and relates how the place has
grown.
In prospectus this city is the focus of
all railroads that are ever to he built,
the future capital of the future state,
the garden spot of the farmer, the sani
tarium of the invalid, the speculator's
paradise, the land of golden grain,
where the wheat grows in forests ami
the oats in impenetrable jungles. Should
our arrival in St. Paul be opportune
we learn that an auction sale of Boom
town lots is one of the entertainments
of the evening, and we are sadly lack
ing in the tourist's proverbial enterprise
if we do not attend. Bands of music
inviting us to the scene, play lively
tunes, calf, ulated to intoxicate the buyer
and loosen the strings of his purse.
Like spies sent out by Moses to report
upon the land of Canaan, and who re
turned bearing between them that fa
mous bunch of grapes from the brook
Eshcol, the Boomtown syndicate have
also brought with them the products of
their land, and challenge Canaan itself
to show an equal display of No. 1 hard
wheat, tastefull) arranged in sheaf and
jar; enormous potatoes, each one a din
ner in itself.; and luscious fruit, which,
however, owing to the undeveloped
state of the country, is yet in a state of
papier mache.
The sales are made by that most lo
quacious of auctioneers, the "Marquis
of Mud," who has fairly earned his hon
orable title. lie exhorts the people to
catch on to the Boomtown boom, which
has surely set in to stay. Then, with
the sensitiveness of the true boomer,
he corrects himself, and says that this
is not a boom at all, but a healthy and
regular growth. The people catch on.
In the fever of the moment, those buy
lots who never bought before. Some
buy in confidence, and some in fun.
Some think that kind of a lottery as
good as any other, and some invest for
the privilege which it gives them of oc
casionally putting on the air of a cap
italist, and referring, in careless tones>
to their real estate in Boomtown
They buy for that satisfaction which
the mere possession of property gives.
Where lives the man who has not
bought a dog or a dressing-gown, an
opera-house or a newspaper, for similar
reasons ?
Having purchased his lot, the travel"
er feels a natural desire to look at it,
and proudly stand upon the base of his
pyramid of dirt, whose apex is at the
centre of the earth, three or four thous
and miles away. Since Boom town is
an inland city, and the climate, he has
been led to believe, is just wet eneugh
for the farmer and just dry enough fo r
the consumptive, he is greatly shocked
to find that his destination is surround-
A PAPER FOR THE HOME CIRCLE.
Ed by a waste of waters. Only the re
peated assurance that this is an excep
tionally moist spring restores confidence
to his soul. The steamboat upon which
ho has crossed the prairie unloads its
passengers at the veranda of the second
story of the hotel; and when, on the
following day, the investor starts out in
a row-boat to hunt up his real estate,
he finds that he has unwittingly sailed
across it as he came into town. The
exact location of his lot, however, can
not be determined without a diving-bell.
The corner-stakes, which were only
waist-high, are under water, and he
hears the surveyor, who is his pilot on
this occasion, mutter to his assistant
that it will be necessary to make his
pegs as high as lamp-posts hereafter.
—Atlantic Motnhly.
Ilow the Brooklyn Bridge Cables IVoro
Made.
After the towers had been built and
the anchorages made ready, then came
the strangest work of all. To make
the cables and put them over the tow
ers would be a ditlicult matter Very
likely it could not be done at all. Bo
the cables were made just where they
hang, one small wire at a time. The
cables are not chains with links, nor
are they twisted like ropes. They are
bundles of straight wires laid side by
side and bound together by wires
wound tightly around the outside.
They called the work "weaving the
cable.'
At the Brooklyn anchorage was
placed a powerful steam-engine, and
on the top of the anchorage were plac
ed two large wheels, and with the aid
of proper machinery the engine caused
these wheels to turn forward er back
ward. From each wheel was stretch
ed a steel rope to the top of the Brook"
lyn tower, over the river, over the oth
er tower and down to the New York
anchorage. Here it passed over anoth
er whe 'l and then stretched all the
way back again. The ends were fas
tened together, making an endless rope,
and when the engine moved, the ropes
travelled to and fro over the river.
For this reason they were called the
"travellers."
There were, besides these travellers,
two more ropes placed side by side,
On these were laid short pieces of oak.
thus making a foot-bridge on which
the workmen could cross the river.
There were also other ropes for sup*
porting platforms, on which the work
men stood as the weaving went on*
On each traveller was hung an iron
wheel, and as the* traveller moved, the
wheel went with it.
It took only ten minutes to send two
wires over the river in this way. The
men on the foot-bridge and on the
platforms suspended from the other
ropes guided the two wires into place
and thus the cables were woven, little
by little, two slender steel wires each
time, and carefully laid in place, till
5134 wires were bound together in a
huge cable, fifteen and three-quarter
inches in diameter. The work was
fairly started by the 11th of June, 1877,
and the last wire was laid October 5,
1878. There are four cables, each
3578A feet long, and if all the wires in
the four cables were placed in lint
they would reach over fourteen thous
and miles.
The work was long and dangerous.
Sometimes the wire would break and
fall into the water, and an hour oi
more would be spent in hauling it up
and starting once more. The men on
the foot-bridge or on the cradles high
in the air watched every wire as it waa
laid into place. To start and stop the
engine, men stood on the top of the
towers and waved signal llags to the
engineer. Such a mass of wires would
not very easily keep in place, and as
the work went on, a number of wires
were bound together into little bundles
or ropes, and at the end all were bound
together into one smooth, round bun
die or cable.— St. Nicholas.
Needles.
A company has been formed in Uti'
ca for making common or hand-sewing
needles by machinery. The needle
making machine proposed to be used
was invented by Eugene Fontaine, the
inventor of the celebrated locomotive
bearing his name, and which has
made the fastest time ever yet made
by a locomotive. Mr. Fontaine is also
the inventor and maker of the most
rapid and best pin-making and pin
sticking machinery ever made. The
needles to supply the world are made
at Ridditch, Birmingham, and at Ilath
ersage, Derbyshire, in England, and
Aix la Chapell, and its suburb, Bor
cette, in Germany. Ridditch and Bor
cette are the principal sources of sup
ply. At Ridditch about fourteen
thousand persons are engaged in mak
ing needles and the product is estimat
ed to be about two hundred millions
per week, or ten thousand millions per
year. Of these it is estimated that the
United States take a little more than
one-tenth.
Terms, SIOO Per Year in Advance.
ITALIAN PI At! EM.
The Mannrr lit Which the Itark-Kyed
Sculplorit U'rk and Live.
"Buy ray imagi s?' The speaker, a
slender, knob nosed, dark-eyed youtb #
stood on the corner of Seventh and
Chestnut streets' and piped his plain
tive melo.ly in sixty-four different
keys. He was a ragged Ita'.i in, redo
lent of garlic and inaccuroni. He
wore a dusty slouch hat, and his toes
peeped out into the soft sunlight in a
suggestive sort of away. There was
about him a look of chronic hunger.
His voice ran up the gamut and down
the gamut, lirst harsh and decisive,
anon soft and supplicating, like that of
a woman, ami alternately loud, low_
cracked and round-toned Rich peo.
pie and poor people, jiolicenien, boot
blacks, and dogs of all degrees, with
muzzles and without muzzles, passed
him without turning their heads,
Still the prdler kept crying his dis
jointed images, until at last a press re
porter, with his heart full of connnis
seration and his pocket full of five cent
pieces, tapped him on the shoulder
and said:
"How much?"
"A dollar and a quarter," replied the
Italian.
"Too mi ch; I give twenty-five
cents."
"Basta! one dollar."
"Twenty-five cents?"
"I take fifty."
"Twenty-five?"
"Take him along."
And the reporter lifted the plaster of
Paris image of a female diver, from
the nomad's willow basket and laid it
tenderly across his arm as if it were a
baby. The image was tolerably well
moulded, is made of genuine plaster of
Paris, and is a counterpart of those
sold in the retail stores for one dollar
The marvel is how the beggars can
sell thein so cheaply, and yet keep from
starving. Every trade has its secrets,
and that of image-making is no excep
tion to the rule. To begin with the
Italian plaster sculptors live upon al
most nothing. Six men will occupy
two small rooms. In the other room
is their workshop. For dinner they
have a bowl of soup, the principle in
gredients of which are bones, scraps of
meat, a few slender wisps of macea
roni, and pepper and salt in profusion.
Two huge slices of bread and a butch
er knife complete the meal The men
cat and work, and work and smoke.
They buy the cheapest sort of plaster
of Paris for one dollar a barrel. A
barrel of plaster will make 500 images.
The moulds are made of gelatine,
which costs $1 per pound. An ordina
ry mould costs $2. Each mould is
made to produce not less than fifty im
ages. An industrious maker can turn
out, every day, 100 images. By calcu
lation upon this basis, it appears that
the images cost about ten cents each,
not including time, of which, however
the wily Italian makes no reckoning.
This is the whole secret.
The retail dealer says the image
cannot be made for less than forty
cents. So they cannot when first,
class materials are employed. The
American manufacturers of images
employ a skilled laborer to screpe of!
the mould marks and tone up the anat
omy. All this counts. So does th*
time consumed in the moulding. The
gelatine costs twice as much as that
used by the Italians. The moulds are
not made to produce over a dozen ima
ges. Here is another big saving foi
the maccaroni-eater. The latter sel
dom lives long in one place. He and
his countrymen travel in droves of six
and a dozen. They move from city to
city, making their images. They selj
one subject "into the ground" as the
retailers say, and then make a vast
quantity of another. Just now every
Italian image maker In Philadelphia
are making female divers. In a few
weeks they will be making something
else. Thev are keen and have a sharp
eye to business. They find that a cer
tain image catches the popular whim.
Forthwith they make nothing else.
Thousands of the favorite images go
bobbing up and down Chestnut street.
The houses are full of them. And so
it goes. The business of image-mak
ing is declining. In former years the
pedlers over-ran the country. Now
they seldom go into the rural districts.
In the winter they make images. In
the spring they divide their time be
tween selling their wares and collect
ing cigar stumps. In the summer they
deal in ice-cream and figs and cheap
fruit. When they die they are buried
in the Potter's field, and that is the
last of them. Their images are cast
in the ash barrel and that is the last
of them.— Philadelphia Press.
The work of bleaching ivory for pi
ano keys is so slow that at Centrebrook,
Ct., at which place they are made in
large quantities, 10,000 sets are some-
times on hand in the different stages
of the operation.
NEWSPAPER LAWS.
If subscribers order the discontinuation of
newspapers, the publishers may continue to
send them until all arrearages are paid.
If subscribers refuse or neglect to take their
newspapers from the office to which they are
sent, they are held responsible until they
have settled the bills and ordered them dis
continued.
If subscribers more to other places with
out informing the publisher, and the news-
Sapers are sent to the former place of reei
ence, they are then responsible.
Twk. 1 mo. |SmoB. ImM. j 1 rwu
I tun |!on t*w fioo |n
U column 800 400 I 600 10 W | 18 0t
H column 800 800 I 12 fWI I 90 00 I 86 00
I column 800 1# 00 I OOJ 86 00 |OOOO >
Wh mnka. * Hqunro. A<leinM.r%r n1 Kx.
•tutors' VoticM $2.60. Transient adrertiMmenu and '
local* 10 cent* per line for -first insert.ua and ft cents per '
Una for each additional moertion.
NO. 20.
A Legend of Iho Dews.
Earth had no dews until a baby died—
A dimpled, lair-Jucod buby, whose dear
eyes
Peeped through 11.0 •winging gates of Para*
due,
And, seeing wondrous trenames scattered
wide,
Sought (hem with liuitleta grasp and home
sick cries;
And when the eager, trembling little hand
Wearied in reaching lor the luring thing*,
Fluttered and ioldcd—like the drooping
wings
Ot Noah's dove, sent out to find the land,
Where no land was—then angels wept their
woe
For the sweet, sealed lids, and chcekt of
snow;
And all their rueful tears the z< \ byrs bland
Gathored in dainty enps of moonlight hue,
To break on babies' gruves in showers of
dew!
—Lucy M. Blinn, in thi Continent.
PUNGENT PARAGRAPHS.
Often on a strike—A ball-player.
A question of voracity—How much
can you eat?
The maiden who formerly dr tuned of fl jwers
And birds in the beautiful spring..
Is housekeeping now, and turns her thoughts
lo bug-poison and lint sort of thing.
Enquirer--What is the chief objec"
tion to traveling in the streetcars?
It costs money.
An editor, in acknowledging the
gift of a peck of onions from a sub
scriber, says: "It is such kindnesses as
these that bring tears to our eyes."
Wlii.'e many men are muttering,
The tana are fiercely fluttering,
Fresh soda water's spluttering,
And stupid chaps arc stuttering,
"Is it hot enough for you?"
A well-known florist says that flow
ers will keep better wrapped in a wet
newspaper than in any other way.
This is another argument in favor of
subscribing.
"Man should always be graceful,"
says I)r. Arrnitage; and the doctor
will please rise and explain how a man
can be graceful when he steps on an
orange peel while carrying a basket of
The new western weather prophet
is proud of his name—Straw, and the
editor of the Boston Post, who evi
dently has some faith in weather pro
phets, thinks he can tell which way
the wind will blow.
A barber shop bit: "Is that about
the right length, sir?" asked the skill
ful barber as be finished cutting his
customer's hair. "I like the sides and
back*," was the response; "but I wish
you would make it a little longer on
top."
The windows of houses in the Phil
ippine isles are made of pellucid oys
ter shells, which admit light, but can
not be seen through. It is not ex
plained how the woman, who sits up
till after midnight to ascertain what
hour the beau of the young lady oppo
site leaves, overcomes this difficulty.
The Biffins children, having over
heard some one remark in connection
with the Biffins evening party that
"Mr. Spriggins will have his eye out
for the oysters," had a consultation
which resulted in their stationing
themselves, while refreshments wero
being served, in good positions to see
Mr. Spriggins take out that important
organ.
A Religions Order of Beggars.
There are to be met now anu then in
Japan members of a religious order of
beggars known as O Biku San. They
are dressed in a fashion peculiar to
their fraternity, wearing cohical bam
boo grass coverings for the head, of a
diameter sufficient to afford a shade
for the shoulders. They live in what
may be termed nunneries. When
abroad their vocation is soliciting alma
for the use of their community. Gen
erally they are orphans or the children
of very poor parents, who are willing
to be relieved of their care and main,
tenance. Qne of the duties exacted by
their order is that they offer reveren
tial worship before every temple or
shrine they may pass on their begging
expeditions. It is seldom that they go
alone, there generally being two or
three together. These women have
their heads shaved, as do the priests of
the Buddhist sects. There is another
fraternity of beggars known as Bikuni.
Widows only are eligible to enter this
body of mendicants. They have their
heads shaved and take a religious vow
ii£yer to marry again. The proceeds
of the appeals for alms made by both
of these bodies of mendicants are de
posited with the heads of their respect
ive establishments. Formerly it was
the custom of these beggars to have
regular routes which they individually
worked, and it was the habit of the
generous, to avoid the bother of being
importuned, to place their gifts in a
basket, which was hung outside, tbe
house on regular slated times, and it is
said the sum so placed was considered
sacred from the touch of any other
than the particular mendicant for
whom it was intended.— San Frarudx.
20 Chronicle.