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MILLHEIM, PA.
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Physician & Surgeon
Office on I'enn Street.
MILLHEIM, PA.
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Practical Dentist,
Office opposite the Methodist Church.
MAIN STREET, MILLHEIM PA.
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MADISONBURG, PA.
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the public can expect the best work and
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Sliop opposite Millbeim Banking House
MAIN STREET, MILLIIEIM, PA.
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Millbtitn, Pa.
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tory manner.
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QRVIS, BOWER & OUVIS,
Attorneys-at-L aw,
BKLLEFONTE, PA.,
Office in Woodings Building.
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Attornejs-at-Law,
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Office on Allegheny Street, two doors east of
the office ocupiod by tlie late firm of Yocuin &
Hastings.
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Attorney-at-Law,
BELLEFONTE PA.
At the Office of Ex-Judge nov.
C. HEINLE,
Attorney-at-Law
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Practices in all the courts of Centre county
Special attention to Collections. Consultations
ifl German or English.
J A. Beaver. J- "W. Gephart.
"OEAVER & GEPHART,
Attorneys-at-Law,
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Office on Alleghany Street. North of High Street
JGROCKERHOFF HOUSE,
ALLEGHENY ST., BELLEFONTE, PA.
0, G. McMILLEN,
PROPRIETOR.
Good Sample Room on First Floor. Free
Buss to and from all trains. Special rates to
witnesses and jurors.
OUMMINS HOUSE,
BISHOP STREET, BELLEFONTE, PA.,
EMANUEL BROWN,
PROPRIETOR
House newly refitted and refurnished. Ev
erything done to make guests comfortable.
R itesinoderai"" trouage respectfully soliei
te I 5-ly
J~RVIN HOUSE,
(Most Central Hotel in the city.)
CORNER OF MAIN AND JAY STREETS
LOCK HAVEN, PA.
S.WOODS~CALDWELL
PROPRIETOR.
Good sameple rooms for commercial Travel
ers on first floor-
R. A. BUMILLER, Editor.
VOL. GO.
The Pawned Watch.
BY REBECCA HARDINO DAVIS.
'Taking the line .1, I as the base, P
David Kershaw's eyes wandered
from the bM)i to the window. There
was nothing to be seen there but a red
brick wall, about three feet distant.
Then they traveled wearily over the
walls of tiis room, with their soiled red
and yi How paper, the bare tloor, the
cheap pine table piled with books, the
cot-bed in the coiner.
'lf one had even a lire or a stove !'
he muttered, kicking at the black gra
ting of the register, through which a
feeble supply of warm air crept into
the room. .
He took up bis book, scowling im
patiently.
'lf 1 take 4as the base' and
again the book diopped on his knee.
'Four years of his ! Foui years of ut
ter solitude ! You've taken too big
a contract, Dave ! You can't go
through with it !' and he fell to staring
gloomily at the bricks outside of the
window.
Day id Kershaw was a country boy,
used to a free, out-door life, to a big
house, with roaring tires.and to a laige,
gay family of young people. He had
been wot king for years for the money
to carry him through college, and had
come up to begiu his course three
months ago.
He had not an acquaintance in the
great city. lie rented his attic room,
bought his dinner for ten or fifteen
cents at a cheap eating-house, and ate
crackers and cheese for breakfast and
supper. II is clothes were coarse and
ill-fitting, and he was painfully con
scious of it, and held himself haughti
ly aloof from his fellow students.
College lads are not apt to break
through any shell of pride and sullen
ness to tind the good fellow beneath.
They simply let David a'one, with a
careless indifference more galling than
dislike.
lie plodded silently from the college
to his bare room, and thence to the
miserable eating-house day after day.
Being naturally a genial, friendly
fellow, the thought of the four long,
lonely years to come sickened him.
lie threw up the window presently
ai d put his head out to catch a glimpse
of the sheet into which the alley open
ed. A young man on horseback passed
at the moment. It was Jourdan
Mitchener, one of his class. He rode
a blooded mare, and was fully equipped
in corduroy coat and knickerbockers,
cream-colored leggings, and gauntlets.
'A regular swell!' thought Kershaw,
laughing good-humoredly. He had no
ticed this Ciasus of the college before.
4 IIe has a good, strong face. Well,
luck's unevenly divided in this world !'
taking up his book with a sigh.
Half an hour later there was a knock
at the door. David opened it, exucct
ing to see his landlady, but there stood
Mitchener, smiling, whip in hand.
'Mr. Kershaw ?' lifting his hat.
'Asha.ned not. to have known you be
fore, but there aro such a lot of its fel
lows. you know. Thanks, yes,' taking
a chair. 'My mother saw your name
in a catalogue, and sent me to tell yon
that your mother and she were school
mates and friends, 'Daisy' and 'Lily'—
that sort of tiling I believe My moth
er married a city man, and for that
reason,during the years that have t> iss
ed.has lost sight of her old schoolmates
who lived away from the city.'
'And my mother married a farmer,
and has been poor all of her life,' inter
rupted David, morosely.
'Yes, yes. American life ! Up to
day and down to-morrow,' carelessly.
Something in Mitchener's manner
made his wealth arid David's poverty
appear paltry accidents, to which they,
as men, were loftily superior. Before
they had been together ten minutes,
David fek his morbid gloom disappear.
He began to Palk naturally and laugh
heartily. 'This Mitchener was a thor
ough good fellow,' he wrote home that
night. 'Was not conscious, apparent
ly, that he was worth a dollar.'
The truth was that Jourdan fully ap
preciated ttie value of his father's great
wealth, but he was a well-bred and
courteous young fellow, and knew how
to put a poor and awkward lad at ease.
Kershaw was invited to dinner at
Mrs. Mitchener's on Sunday. (Ie went
about the next day after this dinner in
a daze of delight, as if he had been
passing through a golden mist and had
brought some of it still clinging to him.
He hummed a tune, as he pored over
his problems. lie did not see the bare
floor and hideous wall-paper, but the
beautiful home in which he had been
treated as an honored guest. The Per
sian carpets, the statuary, the table
brilliant with fljwers and silver, even
the delicious flavors of the dishes lin
gered gratefully on his long-starved
palate. He had met, too, women more
charming and men more gently-bred
than any he had ever known befoie.
MILLIIEIM, PA., THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 4., 1880.
What a world they lived in ! lie
was even yet bewildered by his glimpse
into it. Every luxury and delight
waited on the lifting of their hands.
Libraries, galleries of art, operas, balls,
voyages to Europe, to the Nile ! This
was life 1 He wanted more of it
more of it.
Mrs. Mitchener had asked him to
come often ; had olTeied to introduce
him to her friends, 'a gay young set,'
she said, lie walked up and down the
room, Hushed and panting. He had
never dreamed of such a woild ! He
must see more of it ! I low stale and
dull the Latin and mathematics set mod
now !
But how to compass it ? He could
not go again without a dress-suit. He
had seen one that day in a second hand
shop, very cheap. His blood grew hot
at the idea of wearing some other
man's cast-off clothes, but he pushed
that thought aside.
How could lie raise the money V lie
drew out his watch. It was a good
one, the one luxurious possession in
the family. His father had solemnly
given it to him when he left home, say
ing :
'lt was my father's. I've kept it in
my bureau drawer for twenty years.
Take it, Day id. You're gom' out into
the world. You'll never disgrace it,
my boy. Remembering the old man's
face as he said this, David thiust it
back into hid pocket.
'What a snob I am ! To part with
daddy's watch for a suit of old
clothes !'
But the next moment he thought
that he could pawn it. Ho would soon
have it back. Save the money, or earn
it—somehow.
It was not as if he were yielding to
a vicious temptation of the town
gambling or drinking. The society of
these high bred people would elevate,
educate him. There was a tap at the
door, and Mitchener came in.
'No, can't sit down ; I'm in a hur
ry. Brought a message from my moth
er. She would like to have jou join an
opera party to-night. Eight or ten
young people. Meet at our house, box
at the opera, and back to supper after
ward. You'll come ? That's right.
Good morning !'
No ! 110 ! Stay ! Mr. Mitchener !'
11 is common-sense suddenly rose strong
and clear. 'I ought not to begin this
life. It's your life, not mine. I'm a
poor man. I have four years of bard
work here before me, and after that
my living to earn. Even the hour at
your house yesterday ruined me for
study to-day.'
'Weil 1 well !' said Jourdan, care
lessly. 'Don't be so vehement about it.
Going once to the opera will not. make
you a man of fashion for life. Think
it over and come. Give the college the
go-by for a day.
'Oh, by the way!' he added, coloring
a little. 'Can Ibe of pecuniary service
to you, Kershaw V No,don't be offend
ed. I have more of the filthy lucre
than I know what to do with. Th 6
fact is, I was just going to buy a ter
rier that I don't want. Now, if I
could lend the mo :ey to you, it would
be a real pleasure to me.
'Thank you !' Kershaw stammered,
touched, yet angry. 'I do not need any
money. I have everything I need
clothes and all,' he added, with a gulp.
'Now lam in for it !' he groaned,
when Mitchener was gone. 'lf I don't
go to their party, they'll think I had
no clothes fit to wear. The watch has
to go !'
He paced the floor, one minute blam
ing himself for a snob, the next thrill
ed with delight at the thought of the
evening's pleasure. His books lay neg
lected all day. He could not quiet Ihe
raging whirl and confusion in his mind
enough to think of study.
He decided on nothing until nearly
dark, when he rushed out, pawned the
watch for one-fourth its vqlue, and
bought the evening suit. There was
not money enough left to buy the
shoes, gloves, etc., necessary to com
plete the dress. When he was ready
to go, even his inexperienced eye could
see that his costume did not set on him
as if it were made for him.
But what matter ? His friends —his
welcome—the music. Who would care
what clothes he woie ?
Arrived at Mrs. Mitchener's, he did
not lind himself at all at ease. That
lady was quite occupied with her du
ties as hostess, and received him with
careless civility, giving her attention
to her other guests. They talked of
people and things of which he knew
nothing. The tall awkward lad, his
hair carefully oiled and parted, his red
hands protiuding from his short coat
sleeves, sat silent, and felt thoroughly
miserable out of place. Now and
then he thought he saw one of the
dainty women near by scanning him
with furtive glances.
They drove to the opera-house and
entered one of the proscenium boxes.
David had a seat at the back, where he
could catch but an occasional glimpse
A PAPER FOR THE HOME CIRCLE.
of the stage and the brilliant audience,
lie had been the leader of the choir at
home, and fond of the wall/,>s and
marches which his sister played on the
old piano, and fancied himself a con
noisseur in music. Hut he was not
educated to understand this music,
A very pretty, (lighty young lady,
Mrs. Hellew, who was the chape rone
of the party, tried politely to make him
talk to her, but in vain. She turned to
Jourdan at last with a shrug of her
bare shouldtp s.
'Your friend,' she whispered, 'seems
to he absorbed by his own thoughts,
lie does not look as if he were enjoying
himself. Who is he V'
'One of my mother's lust hobbies ; a
student in the college from the coun
try,' he replied in the same tone.
They turned to the stage. Kershaw
saw their smiles, and knew they were
talking of him. His brain was on Are.
Why had become here ? Was he not
the equal of these dainty folk, as well
born, as virtuous, as clever, as they ?
They dared to despiso him because he
was awkward and ill-dressed !
In his embarrassment and misery lie
thrust his hand into the breast pocket
of his coat, and drew out a little paint
ed paper t.atilet, wliicn he fingered me
chanically, scarcely noticing what it
was until he saw Mr 3. Hellew's eyes
fixed on it with amazement and suspi
cion. When the curtain fell on the
first act, she came back to him, mak
ing some incoherent remarks about the
play, while she looked at him keenly.
Suddenly she grew pale, and interrupt--
ing herself in the middle of a sentence,
said to Kershaw : 'Will you be good
enough at the close of the next act to
go with me and Mr. Mitchener into the
ante room ? I would like to speak with
you.'
When they had teached the anteroom
at the close of the act, sfie said: 'I
have a most disagreeble question to
ask Mr. Kershaw. Our house was
robbed by burglars last Monday, and
silver and jewelry and clothes were ta
ken. Among ttie rest was an evening
suit of my husband's. You have it
on 1'
'Aren't you mistaken, Mrs. Bellew ?'
said young Mitchener. 'One dress
suit is exactly like another, and —'
'My husband,' alio wet>t on, excited
ly, 'wore it to a ball the night before it
was stolen. As we came home, he put
ray tablet, with my dances on it, in one
pocket. In the other was my ruby
ring, which was too large for my glove.
Mr. Kershaw has the tablet in his
pocket.'
Kershaw mechanically thrust his
hand into the pocket of the coat, and
brought out the tablet and a second la
ter the ring, which had caught in the
lining and so escaped the notice of the
thief. He silently held them out to
her. The power of speech and action
seemed to be fro/.MI out of him with
horror. Mitchoner looked at him ex
citedly, bui said, politely :
'Have you any objections to telling
Mrs. Bellew how the suit came in your
possession V
Kershaw stared at him a moment,
full of repugnance and contempt for
himself. These were 'his new friends,'
th's was the party he had parted with
his old father's gift to enter !
'I did not, of course, steal the
clothes,'he said at last. 'You cannot
really think I did that. But I bought
them at a pawnshop to-day. I pawned
my watch to do it. I wanted to come
here.'
'All right ! all right !' interposed
Mitchoner, soothingly. 'You can send
Mr. Bellew the name of the pawnbro
ker, and he will recover his silver and
jewelry. Mrs. Bellew, the curtain is
up.' She lluttered softly back to her
seat, arranging her airy draperies and
flowers, and glanced meaningly at
young Mitchener, as if to express dis
gust for the poor wretch who had
bought ca3t-off clothes to thrust him
self in among people whom he regard
ed a his superiors. David saw it all,
and rose from his seat panting and
trembling.
'Sit down ! Sit down ! Kershaw !'
said Mitchener, putting his hand on his
shoulder. David shook it off.
'No ; I've been a fool, but I've done
with it all now. I'll send back the
clothes—'
'Oh no !' said Mrs. Bellew, looking
back witli a supercilious smile. 'Pray
keep them.'
Dayid left the box and rushing home
stunned with rage and Jshame, tore off
the stolen clothes and carried them to
Mr. Bellew's house. The next day
Mitchener, who had a good deal of
| kindness and tact,arranged the matter.
The pawnbroker, who was a receiver
| of stolen goods, was forced to give up
; the plate, jewelry and David's watch.
The thieves were discovered and pun
ished.
Mrs. Mitchener, still loyal to her old
friend, sent David an invitation to a
ball the next week. He declined it.
'I have made a mistake,' ho told Jour
dun, 'but I will not do it again. My
path in life is straight before me.
With God's help', I will keep in it.'
His bitter humiliation had taught
him jusler views of life. As time pass
ed, he made friends among the other
students, clever, unpretentious young
fellows, who, like himself had their
own way to make ir life. His college
days passed quickly, lie studied medi
cine, and returned to his native town
to practice.
Twenty years aiterware,Mr. Jourdan
Mitchener, passing through this town,
now one of the most important cities
in Pennsylvania, became suddenly ill,
and was attended for several weeks hv
Dr. Ksrshaw. He heard from others
of the high position held by the physi
cian in the community, not on'y as the
head of his profession, Lut as an influ
ential citizen, foremost in every good
work, the founder of asylums, while
his family were the centre of the most
cultured circle in the city.
Mitchener had married a very weal
thy woman, and had continued to live
only in pursuit of fashionable amuse
ment. 'And what have I gained by
it ?' he thought, bitterly. 'lf I were
to die to morrow, I should b:* remem
bered only as the man who kept the
best French cook in New York.'
'You were right,' he said to the doc
tor when he came that afternoon.
'You were right to keep your own
straight, honorable path, and refuse to
ape fashion.'
'I tried it once, you remember,' said
the doctor, smiling. 'The most fortu
nate event of my life was my humilia
tion about my pawned watch. It was
a bitter dose, but it cured me effectual
ly. Every tick of this old watch since'
—drawing it out—'has said to me :
'Don't be a snob. Keep steadily on
your own path.' I owe much to Mrs.
Bellew. Her treatment of me at.d my
foolish act turned me back lroin the
wrong road. It would have made my
life a failure.'— Youth's ComjHinion.
Riding an Avalanche.
Tho Terrible Experience of Two
Miners in Colorado.
During the great storm recently
two sturdy miners started to ascend
one of our neighboring mountains
with tho intention of working a claim
that lay near its crest. They made
the trip on Norwegian snow-shoes,on
which they worked their way up a
narrow gulch leading to their proper
ty. As they journeyed on, one of
them got to be some two hundred
yards in advance of the other, and it
was while this distance separated
them that the leader by an unhappy
step overturned a top-heavy mass of
snow and started a dreadful slide, lie
seized hold of a convenient tree and
called to his companion to 'Look out!'
The tree was small and bent over un
der the weight of moving snow. He
let gc and started with the snow. The
long shoes by this time were firmly
anchored in the moving mass, and he
was hurried along with no power to
stop himself by seizing the trees which
he passed. Fortunately, he was on
the tail end of the avalanche,and thus
rode it in safety,with nothing coming
behind to cover him up.
When he found he had thus to be
an unwilling passenger upon the ter
rible train lie looked ahead to see what
had become of his partner. The lat
ter, seeing that there was no escape
on cither side,turned heels to the roar
ing mass and started on a life-and
death run right down the gulch. Then
followed a wild and thrilling chase.
The man who was anchored on top of
the snow yelled at the man in front to
run,while he who was pursued strain
ed every muscle to keep out of the
jaws of the death that was close at his
heels. The sight would have been a
musing if it had not been of such a
serious nature. The race was kept
up for more than a mile, and during
the entire distance the fellow who was
on top kept yelling, "Run, you ;
run," and the hair of the fellow who
was running held his hat poised four
inches from his head while ne headed
for the valley. Often the rolling snow
struck the heels of his shoes, but it did
not quite get him. More quickly than
it takes to tell it the hunted man dash
ed out into the valley, and what he
thought was safety. The valley,how
ever, was more dangerous than the
mountain, as an unseen gulch crossed
it, into which the hunted man fell.
Providence, though, was kind to him,
for the slide had spent its force, and
the snow piled up on the bank over
which he had fallen.
When the two were able to look a
round one was lying at the bottom of
the gulch, while the other was seated
upon the crust of the snow bank that
looked over its edge.— Aspen limes.
Terms, SI.OO per Year, in Advance
Statistics Wouldn't Lie.
A Lovor liOßoa His Sweetheart
Through His Knowledgj ot
Figures.
A young English statistician who
was paying court to a young lady
thought to surprise her with his im
mense erudition. Producing his note
hook she thought lie was about to in
dite a loye sonnet, but was slightly tak
en aback by the following question :
'How many meals do you eat a day ?'
4 Why, three, of course ; but of all the
oddest questions !'
4 Never mind, dear, I'll tell you all si
bout it in a moment.'
His pencil was rapidly at work. At
last, fondly clasping her slender waist
and
4 Now, my darling, I've got it, and if
you wish to know how much has pass
ed through that aporable little mouth
in the last seventeen years, 1 can give
you the exact'figuies.'
•Goodness gracious ! What can you
mean V'
4 Xow, just listen,' says he, 'and you
will hear exactly what you have been
obliged to absorb to maintain those
charms which are to make the happi
ness of my life.'
'But I don't want to hear,'
'Ah, you ere surprised, no doubt, out
statistics are wonderful things. Just
listen. You are now seventeen years
old, so that in fifteen years you have
absorbed oxen and calves, 5 ; sheep and
lambs, 14 ; chickens, 327 ; ducks, 204 ;
geese, 12; turkeys, 100; game of various
kinds, 824; fishes, 100 ; eggs, 324 ; vege
tables (bunches), 700 ; fruit (baskets),
003 ; cheeses, 103 ; bread, cake, &c. (in
sacks of flour), 40; wine (barrels), 11 ;
water (gallons), 3,000.'
At this the maiden revolted and,
jumping up, exclaimed ;
'I think you are very impertinent and
disgusting besides, and I will not stay
to listen to you !' upon which she flew
into the house.
lie gnzed after her with an abstract
ed air and left, saying to himself :
'lt she kept talking at that rate 12
hours out of 21 her jaws would in 12
years travel a distance of 1,332.124
miles '
The maiden within two months mar
ried a well-to-do grocer, who was no
statistician.
Could Not Pay His Bill.
'Now that we are engaged come and
let me'introduce you to papa/ said Miss
Pottleworth.
'I believe I have met him before,' re
plied young Spickle.
'lut in quite another capacity than
that of a son-in-law.'
'Yes—or ; but I would rather not
meet him to-night.'
'Oh, you must.'
And despite the most violent strug
gles of the young man, he was drawn
into the library, where a large, red-fac
ed man, with a squint in one eye and
an enlargement of the nose, sat looking
over a lot of papers.
'Father,' said the girl.
'Hum!' he replied, without looking
up.
'I wish to present you to—'
'What!' ho exclaimed, looking up
and catching sight of young Spickle.
'Have you the impudence to follow me
here ? Didn't I tell you that I would
see you to-morrow ?'
'Why, father, do you know Mr.
Spickle i"
'I don't know his name, but I know
that he has been to my otlice three times
a day for a week with a bill. I kjiow
him well enough. I can't pay that bill
to-night, young man. Come to my of
fice to-morrow.'
'I hope you do not think ill of me,'
said Spickle. 'I have not come to col
lect the bill you have reference to,
but—'
'What ! Got another one ?'
'You persist in misunderstanding
me. I did not come to collect a bill. I
can come to-morrow about that. To
night I proposed to your daughter, and
have been accepted. Our mission is to
acquaint you with the fact, and gain
your consent to our marriage.'
'Well, is that all ?' asked the old fel
low. 'Blamed if I didn't think you
had a bill. Take the girl, if that's
what you want. But say, didn't I tell
you to bring the bill to-morrow ?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Well, you needn't. Our relations
are different now. Wish I had a daugh
ter for eyery bill collector in town.
Electricity has been used in England
to drive a threshing machine.
A high hill at Chimapia, in Mexico,
was lately split completely in two by
an earthquake.
Paper shoes are now made in Eng
land with success. They are made of
papier mache,aud answer in all respects
the purposes of leather.
In Scotland inoculation for pleuro
pneumonia has been performed on cat
tle with good success. The operation
was performed on the lower joint of the
tail. Why that was necessary is not
plain, especially at* the animals ;iiereby
lost part of their tails.
NO. 45}
;newßpapeu laws
(f snlworilwrs order the discontinuation
ucwh|:|h'|h the puoli-ht'is hui\ rontinue
send liu in until ail aiieaiaues ;II paid.
If siihsei ihem lefu ; e or o< ■h et '< take tiieir
newspapers frrtin the oli'a :■ 11 1 v* it t |i tlt \ are sent
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ADVEBTIBINO BATES.
1 wk. i inc. 'linos, fi inos. 1 yen
1 square *2m> ♦ 400 SSW *i>oo ssoo
Wcolunin 400 fi 00 10 Chi. la 00 IS 00
V 2 •' TOO lo u) la<*> SOU) 40 0.)
V. " 10 00 la 00 'i r 00 4a 00 7.1 fO
One Inch makes a square. Administrators
and Executors' Notices $-.50. Transient adver
tisements and locals loeOnts per line for first
inseition and a cents per line for each addition
al insertion
My First Antelopo.
David W. Jttdd writes f om the Far
West to the American Agriculturist for
November :
An incident to day recalls my first
antelone. Equipped with .Sharp Car
bines nnd Winchesters, supplied with
provisions for three weeks, we pushed
southward from Laramie, Wyoming
Territory—Auditor Weston, of Nebras
ka, his son Ralph, Tim Foley, the well
known frontiersman, a trusty guide,
ai dt ie writer. It was a bright, crisp
morning, and in that peculiar atmos
phere Sheep Mountain, seemed but five
miles away, though the distance proved
to be more than twenty. Before noon
the antelope began to appear in the dis
tance, and,as we approached the moun
tain, occasional small droves trotted
leisurely by and whirled wiLli eager cu
riosity to turn and gaze at us. Then
after them we would go as fast as our
horses could carry us, emptying cham
ber after chamber of cartridges, but
with no seeming effect. Army oflieers
stationed near hear'and elsewhere on
the frontier have frequently run them
down with greyhounds. It is reported
of one of Gen. Stanley's dogs that he
brought to bay and "downed" twenty
four antelope on a single expedition.
We loaded and unloaded our rifles all
the afternoon without striking, as far
as we could single antelope,
though several jack rabbits and an oc
casional sage lien rewarded our constant
fusilade. On the second day we were
glad enough, after our long ride, to lay
up for repairs at Pinkham's, in North
Park, Colorado. Here droves of ante
lope were seen in large numbers at a
distance. Chafing uuder my constant
failure to bring one down, I determined
on resorting to the old ruse of "flag
ging" them. Possessed with incordi
nate curiosity, they can sometimes be
drawn within shooting distance by rais
ing one's handkerchief on the tip of the
ritle or on a pole suspended above the
long grass in which the hunter is con
cealed. At early daybreak I started off
alone, stealthily craw'lng through the
grass toward a small drove in foot hills
a mile or more away. After maneuver
ing in this manner for a full half hour,
I got within less than six hundred
yards of the game unperceived. I then
attracted their attention, and the ani
mals, after approaching me for some
distance, came to a halt. I then took
deliberate aim at what appeared to he a
noble buck, and enjoyed the exhilerat
ing satisfaction of seeing the animal
stagger and fall. Imagine my chagrin
and sorrow,howeyer,when,upon mount
ing my broncho, and quickly riding to
the stricken antelope, I found a doe
bleeding to death witli two fawns
standing over her. Instead of trotting
away at my approach, they remained
by the dying doe, and with their beau
tiful gazelle eyes, bestowed such looks
of piteous reproach as one could never
forget. It was a sight which occasion
ed no little remorse, and though the
succeeding days we were constantly
surrounded by the antelope in close
proximity, 1 could not bring myself to
shoot at one of them again while we re
mained on the expedition, excepting
one morning when we were out of sup
plies. We subsequently killed ourßocky
Mountain lion and other game, but the
antelope, so far as 1 was concerned, re
maincd undisturbed.
How Ke Oiica Ran a Locomotive.
They were gathered in the office tell
ing railroad yarns. Colonel Bob Leach
was one of the party. 'Gentlemen,'
said he, 'I don't know how fast an en
gine can travel, but I'll give you an
idea of how fast one did go. During
the war I run a scouting engine for the
Confederate governmet. It was my
duty to carry a telegraph operator,who,
at different points, would cut the wires
aud.send dispatches. We were running
at a rapid rate one day, when, upon
rounding a curve,l saw a thousand gun
barrels blaza in the sunlight. I also
saw that a number of cross ties had
been piled on the track. To stop in
time was an impossibility ; to go on
seemed certain death, for even if we es
caped being killed by the wrecking of
the engine we would be shot to death,
for we were regarded as spies. I decid
ed in a second what to do.* Telling my
companion to lie down in the tender, I
seized the throttle, and, in locomotive
parlance, threw her wide open. The
engine jumped like a rabbit. I threw
myself flat in the tender, expecting ev
ery moment to be hurled to an awful
death. Bang, bang, bang ! went the
guns. Then all was silent, saye the
whir whir of the wheels. Could it be
possible that the engine had knocked
off the obstructions? I arose and look
ed out. We had passed the enemy and
had scattered the ties. My companion,
as much astonished as myself, got up.
I looked back, and just aboye the ten
der I saw what I took to be a swarm of
big black flies. I reached out and took
hold of one. Gracious ! I then discov
ered what they were. They were a
shower of bullets that the enemy had
fired after us. Well, we ran along at
this rate until all the bullets fell be
hind. Then we slacked up.' The gen
tlemen looked at one another, but no
one disputed the statement.— Arkar*
saw Traveler.