Bellefonte, Pa., February 7, 1890. A Housekeeper's Tragedy. One day as I wandered, I heard a complaining And saw a poor woman—the picture of gloom, She glared at the mua on her doorstep, (twas raining), 4: And this was her wail as she wielded the broom: . Oh, life is a toil, and love is a trouble, And beauty will fade, and riches will flee ; And pleasures they dwindle, and prices they double, Ein And nothing is what I could wish it to be. There's too much of worriment goesto a bonnet, There's too much of ironing goes to a shirt; There's nothing that pays for the time you waste on it; There's nothing that lasts, but trouble and dirt. In March it is mud; it's slush in December ; The mid Summer breezes are loaded with ust ; In Fall the leaves litter ; in muggy September The wall paper rots, and the candle- sticks rust. There are worms in cherries, and slugs in the roses, And ants in the sugar, and mice in the pies; The rubbish of spiders, no mortal supposes, And ravaging roaches, and damaging flies. 1t’s sweeping at six, and dusting at seven ; It’s victuals at eight, and dishes at nine ; It’s plotting and plauning from ten to eleven; We scarce break our tast ere we plan how to dine. With grease and with grime, from corner to centre, Forever at war, and forcvere alert, Not rest for a day. lest an enemy enter— I spony my whole life in a struggle with irt. Last night, in a dream, I was stationed forever On a i little isle in the midst of the sea ; My one chance of life was a ceaseless endeavor To sweep off the waves ere they swept over me. Alas, "twas no dream ! Again I behold it! Iyield, I am helpless my fate to avert. She plies down her sleeves,her apron she olde Then laid down ‘and died, and was buried in dirt. Irvona, Pa. AN INNOCENT BURGLAR. “Now do lie etill, Aunt Martha, and don’t fret and worry all day and all night. JAunt, it is bad enough to be all aches and pains, but you must add fretting to them?” The speaker was a tall, bony woman of some 45 or 50 years, with a hard face, that expressed far more annoy- ance than sympathy as she shook up the pillows and arranged the covers of the bed where an older woman lay. Not a very old woman, but one whose gray hair and wrinkled cheeks told of many years’ sojourn in the world. “Bertha!” she said, in a low, plain- tive voice. “I want Bertha!” “How many times have I told you that Bertha can’t be found ?” “She’s down stairs.” “Well, if it wouldn't try the patience of a saint to hear you! Can’t you re- member, Aunt Martha? Bertha ran away ‘two years ago with that panting chap that said his name was hornton. (Goodness knows whether it was or not. But he made love to Bertha while he was painting her pic- ture. I told you no good would come of letting her rig herself out like a play- actress, and stand up for hours, a smirking and smiling, while he took her picture and talked eoft nonsense to her. Heran away with her and that was the end of it. Can't you remem- ber?’ “Yes, I remember! He wrote to me, and sent me a copy of the marriage lines, so I'd know he loved her true and faithful. I remember it all, Han- nah! And I was mad because they'd deceived me, and wrote back an angry letter. But I did not know. I should miss her pretty face and sweet voice. She was so young, too, Hannah. Only sixteen! Not more than a child! I was too hard, too hard. But she is here, now. Let her come to me !” All thjs was uttered in the faint gasp- ing voice of one whose journey of life was fast drawing to a close. But there was no pity in the hard face, no tender- ness in the harsh voice of her niece. “I tell you she is not here!” she said, roughly, “and I'm tired of your eternal whining for her, Go to sleep!” “T can’t sleep! I never sleep now! And I heard her. I heard Bertha down stairs.” “T wonder, now, if she did hear her,” Hannah muttered uneasily. “It’s bad luck to cross the dying. If she would only tell me whereshe’s put hermoney. Six thousand dollars in United States bonds, Lawyer Brown says he’s bought for her, and never sold one ; and they're in the house, too. I've ransacked as much as I dare, but she sleeps so lit- tle that I can’t do much in the room. And there's the doctor coming every day, so I daren’t make her mad, or she'll send and change her will. Partly muttering, partly thinking all this, the woman tidied the room for the night, and set the lamp on the hearth, before she went to her own room. Sitting up to watch was hard work, and Hannah Graves kept a little stimulant where she could drink unob- served. To do her justice, she seldom took much, and nodded in the arm chair beside the sick-bed pretty faith- fully. But on this night she was troub- led with an uneasy conscience, and ex- ceeded ‘her usual allowance, falling into a deep sleepin her own room, where she had only intended to change her dress for a loose wrapper. Earlier in the evening, before the early darkness of a December night had close in, there had been a suppli- ant at the door, whose low, sweet voice had vainly pleaded for admission. The grand daughter who had run away with the artist had heard from a far mer, whe went weekly to the city, of her grandmother's illness, and had honed for one word of torgiveness. The farmer was a kindly man, who had before carried tidings from the cot- tage to the city “flat,” where Marcus Thornton and his young wife lived, as poor people in great cities so often live, struggling bravely for daily bread, but unt the toil by strong mutual ove. Some time in the future the little wife was sure the paintings, that were to her like dreams of fairy land, would bring to her husband wealth and fame. She trusted him utterly, believing his genius unequalled in the wide world’s array of artists. And while she waited for that genius to be recognized, she was well content to take in sewing to save and economize what he earned by the occasional sale of a small picture,or the filling of an order to decorate some rich man’s panels or walls. They were often compelled to dine on porridge, but they ate it cheerfully, and furnish- ed the sauce by building grand castles in ths air, as they handled their pewter §poons. There was no thought of her grand- mother’s six thousand dollars in Bertha Thornton's mind, as she thankfully ac- cepted the farmer's offer to take her home and seelthe old lady before she died. Just one word of forgiveness was all she craved, for she knew that she had been undutiful and ungrateful when she left her home in secret to follow her lover's fortunes. She was not aware that Hannah Graves had quietly burned, unopened, the many letters she had written begging tor- giveness, but that they were all un- answerered convinced her that her grandmother was still angry. She was a timid little woman, easily led, easily frightened, and Hannah (iraves had kept her outside the door without difficulty, where the farmer left hier to drive to his own home. She begged in vain to see her grand- mother, her sweet voice raised in her earnestness till it must have penetrated to the sick-room, from which she was so resolutely shut out. : As the door closed upon her and she heard the heavy bolt drawn it flashed upon her for the first time that she had made no provision for her night's shel- ter. It was winter weather, but notin- tensely cold, and her dress was warm, but it was not a pleasant prospect to think of wandering about all night till ghe could take the city train early in the morning’ She shivered as she drew her shawl closer and listened to the sounds in- doors that told how carefullylevery door and window was being barred against her. The porch was deep and shelter- ed from the wind, and when she wear- ied of walkingup and down she crouch- ed into a corner to rest. . Just over her head was the window of her grandmother’s room, and Han- nah, setting this window a crack open for the night, let out the sound of her own harsh voice. Just a murmur of her. own grandmother's utterances reached Bertha as she listened intently, but what Hannah said came to her clearly and distinctly. It convinced her that the story she had told of the old lady’s continued anger was untrue, and the threat that the sight of her would have fatal results was another fiction. “She wants me! I am sure she will forgive me!” Bertha thought, as the faint accents reached her, conveying no words, but pleading in every tone. “I will see her!” Again she listened intently, until she was sure by the silence that the invalid was alone. She was young, and light, and country bred, it was no great feat to scramble by the twisted vines on the porch pillars, to its roof, and gain the window. Very cautiously the sash was raised, the muslin curtain pushed aside, and by the dim light Bertha could see that the only occupant of the room was the old woman on the bed, who murmured incessantly : “Oh, Bertha! I was too hard, dear child ! Come to your old grannie before she dies!” Softly still, for Hannah might be near. Bertha crept over the window- gill into the room, and to the door. This she locked, whispering to herself: “I will speak to grannie, and if any- body tries to to put me out, she must first break the door in.” But there was no sound in any other part of the house as she drew near the invalid, whose large, eager eyes had by that time discovered her. “Bertha! You have come, Bertha!’ “Yes, grannie, dear, dear grannie,” said Bertha, caressing her tenderly, “I am here.” “But you must not stay. Hannah will kill you. She will think you want the money.” “Oh, grannie, never mind money now. Only say you forgive me for leaving you.” «With all my heart, dear child. God bless you ever, and bless the man you love if he is good to you.” “He is, grannie, the kindest, best husband in the world. He shall come to you to-morrow.” . “Yes, dear! yes! But now listen. Goto the clothes press and pull out the lower drawer. Quick! Now,” as Bertha obeyed, ‘do you see on the floor, underneath where the drawer was, a package, sewed up in strong muslin? Bring that to me, and put the drawer back.” Bertha obeyed, and stood again be- side the bed. “Put it in your bosom. Button yonr dress over it. Sol’ said her grand- mother, eagerly watching her follow her instructions. “Don’t tell Hannah. Don't tell anybody but yout husband. Promise me!” “I promise, grannie.” “It ismy savings for years; saved for you before I made that cruel will. It is yours, yours, darling. Hannah will have the cottage and everything else, because I have not taken the will away. ‘Dear, now go. But come to- morrow with vour husband, to protect you. Go, dear. Hanna may come. Good night. God bless you, Bertha.” Out again in the night air, reluct- ant as she was to go, Bertha sped away to the railroad station, two miles away. She had unlocked the door and drew the window down before she left the house, and hurried on, only anxious to gain her home and bring her husbdnd to receive the blessing already bestowed on herself. There was a train at daybreak and the station was warm and light, but the hours dragged slowly, until she was on her way to the city. The day-dawn wakened Hannah from her heavy sleep, and, conscience | stricken, she hurried to her aunt. Nothing, to her eyes, had been dis- voice answered her frightened call. It was too late for any spoken words of forgiveness when Marcus Thornton stood with his wife beside the still, was pardoned,and she kept her promise made to the dead. Hannah Graves livesin the cottage she has inherited, and kas periodical a‘tacks searching for the six thousand found them, although she truthfully declares there is not one inch of the cottage that has not been ransacked.” rr SETA T—— A Mighty Boss. Heretofore the political boss has been a character more or less restricted in his scope. He has been content to rob a State or ack a city. He has run State Legislatures and municipal councils, or he h-s worked the Court House officials in a county. But we have now a boss confined to no pent-up Utica—one, who not only feels able to run the forty-two States of the American Union, but one who is resolved to run them whether they wish to be run or not. Mr. Matthew Stanley Quay is the boss of bosses. He can raise more money for wanamakering, do a bigger business in “blocks of-five,” and manage politician of the graceless variety, big or little, with more audacity and skill then any other boss that ever arosein the party of bosses. Beside him Platt is a pigmy, and Mahone would go in his vest pock- et. Harrison dreads him as he does con- tagion, but he cowers before him never- theless. The old Senators and the old Representatives at Washington, who have won reputation in the intellectual contests of the last few years, naturally dislike subordination to the voiceless and pennless boodler who has suddenly leaped upon their backs from the local obscurity of Pennsylvania. In his own State hiseminent colleague in the Senate has sunk into insignifi- cance, with all his prospects of re-election dependent upon the whim of his new master. There the boss appoints State tickets, making Governors and Lieuten- ant Governors and Secretaries out of hand. There he runs Legislatures as puppet shows are run, and there he dis- penses not only Federal and State pat- ronage according to his royal pleasure, but he names municipal and county candidates, impartially taking under his benevolent care the cities of Phila- delphia and Pittsburg, and any smaller ones which may chance to need atten- tion. With all these various employ- ments ona would suppose that even this masterful boss would find it im- possible to do much else; never-the- less he gets time to manage local elec- tions in Louisiana, Virginia, Montana and the Dakotas, and, not in th» least embarrassed by these numerous drafts upon his mighty store of energy, we now find him organizing the boodler’s and monopolist’s House of Representas tives at Washington, All accounts agree that Boss Quay had more to do with the organization than all other men combined. Using his Pennsylvania puppets for make-weight, he found it easy to consolidate the great Eastern delegations behind Reed, who, being the candidate of the rail- roads,and of the monopolies generally— and ofall the highly protected interests,” except wool, was naturally Boss Quay’s choice. He has now a Speaker of his own manufacture, and we are told that he is immensely delighted with him. He also chose a clerk, and in very truth met with no signal failure in his management of the Honse until, by the providence of God, a blind preacher was raised up to beat the caucus nomi- nee for Chaplian. The House, it is safe to say, is under the absolute control of the boss. He will do with it the sort of things he has done with Pennsylvania Legislatures. It will serve the interests of the money power with zeal and fideli- ty. 'The great corporations represented by Mr. Quay and which have helped him to elevate Mr. Reed will suffer no- thing. It is possible that Mr. Quay’s ambition to organize the House, and to possess it as a personal appanage, wes not unconnected with a very ardent desire to show Mr. Harrison that he could not safely disregard the great boss, be- fore whom all other Republicans laid themselves prostrate. And it is more than likely, considering all of Mr. Quay’s achievements in the last year, that he will succeed before another year goes by in reducing Mr. Harrison and his administration to unmurmuring subjection. In all his labors and achievements there is one manifest duty which Mr. Quay appears to have overlooked en- tirley. He bas failed wholly to re- present Pennsylvania in the United States Senate. If he has performed any public services whatever, if he has done anything in behalf of his State or his country, the record has failed to make any mention of it. In mitigation, however, it should be remembered that boss & in ac- tual business can have no time for the discharge of a public trust.—New York Globe. BE Overcrowding of the Professions. The cry of “We've got no work to do,” which goes up in ever increasing volnme from professional men, is not confined to this country. Professor Lexis, of Gottingen, has carefully pre- pared some statistics which show that at his own university there are just twice as many students preparing for. the various professions as they have any chance of being able to practice them. The overcrowding of the pro- fessions in every civilized country is likely to continue a growing grievance. A man on whose education and train- ling a certain amount of capital has | been expended may not unreasonably { expect it to bear interest in the shape | of a livelihood. To fall back on busi- ; ness only because professional work is | not forthcoming generally means equal in bed was rigid and pulseless, and no. cold form, but Bertha knew that she | dollars in bonds, but she has never | The Suez Canal, the Desert About a dred Miles Long. A Ditch in Hun- This canal is only 100 miles long, says turbed in the room, no confusion told | _ jetter from Ecypt to the N 7 ve of the midnight visitor, but the form | 2 £YP ¢ Now Xo | World. It is only one-twelfth the length of the Red Sea, into which it | conducts?the waters of the Mediterran- | ean, and these two bodies.of water | are nearly of thesame level. They now | flow into one another without locks, and the canal is well described as a ditch in the desert. This ditch is about 300 feet wide at the top and 150 feet wide at the bottom, and the water within it is as quiet as a mill pond. Tt is of beauti- ful sea-green and the contrast of this | color with the bare yellow sands which line the banks of the canal makes it wonderfully beautiful. The canal is so narrow that ships can pass only at cer- tain points, and the management gov- ern these passages just as the train dis- upon our trunk lines. There are, from time to time, through the canal wider spaces where the ships must turn in while others, which have the right of way, may pass them, and at a distance these ships seem to be walking, as it were, in single file through fhe desert. They are not allowed to go over five miles an hour, and this is largely due to the depth of the canal. Its average depth is about twenty-four feet, and many of the ships which pass through | are more than twenty feet deep in the water. There is so little wa‘er under the bottom that there can be no great speed. The banks of this canal are of dry and thirsty sand. In some places they are kept back by pavements of stone and at others by a network of twigs like the jetties of the Missississippi. Tt cost nearly $100,000,000 to build the canal, and in some places the channel had to be cut through solid rocks. In others there was a little dredging needed. The waters of the Mediterranean flowed in- to long, natural lakes, and these requit- ed but little excavation to make them deep enough for the transit of ships. One of the great problems in making the canal was fresh water for the work- men. The work was begun in 1858, and the ruler of Egypt provided 27,000 laborers. They were relieved every three months, but it was necessary to feed them. It took 4,000 water casks, which were carrizd on the back of cam- els, to supply them with drinking water and this was kept up for five year. At the end of that time a fresh-water canal was arranged so that water was carried from the Nile to Ismaillia, and there 1s now a pipe which runs the whole length of the canal and which carries fresb wa- ter from one end of it to the other. The work of preparing harbors at Port Said and Suez was very expensive and I took a look at the piers at Port Said, which are intended to ward off the ac- cumulations of sand and mud and which form the navagable entrance to the can- al. These piers are made of artific'al stone composed of desert sand and ce- ment. The machinery to make them was brought here from France and the stones are made to throw into the sea. Each stone weighed twenty tons and it took 25,000 of these massive rocks to form the bases of these piers. On the top of this foundation the [piers were built and the artificial stone, I am told, last as long as the natural article. TIERS The Clothing of Babies. Although I own that children are now more sensibly glothed than was the case thirty years ago, it is still common to see an infant, who can take no exercise to warm himself, wearing a low necked, short sleeved, short coated dress in the coldest weather. The two parts of the body--viz., the upper portion of the chest and the lower portion of the abdo- men—which it is most important to keep from variations of temperature, are exposed, and the child is rendered liable to colds, coughs and lung diseases on the one hand and bowel complaint on the other. What little there 1s of the dress is chiefly composed of open work and embroidery, so that there is about as much warmth init as in a wire sieve, and the socks accompanying sucha dress are of cold white cotton, exposing a cru- el length of blue and red leg. I cannot see the beauty of a pair of livid blue legs and would much rather behold them comfortably clad in a pair of stockings. If the beauty lie in the shape of the leg, that shape will be displayed to as much advantage in a pair of stockings; if it lie in the coloring of the flesh, beautiful coloring will not be obtained by leaving the leg bare; and, from the artistic point of view, a blue or red stocking is infinitely preferable to a blue and red log. JEssIE O. WALLER. The Career of a Brave Pennsylvanian. How Colonel Beidler Became a Terror to Evil-dcers in Montana. Col. John X. Beidler was buried at Helena, Montana, on Sunday last. He was not one of those whose military title is merely one of courtesy, Lut won his colonelcy by hard fighting. He was, in fact, a famous officer of the law—one of those Rocky Mountain sheriffs, whose courage and straight shooting have done so much to civilize the Wild West. John X. Beidler was a poor basket maker in Franklin county, near Cham- bersburg,Pa. He was a quiet youth, and gave no indications of a pugnacious dis- position. Butseeking to improve his condition about 1860, he went West, and in 1861 located near Fort Benton, on the head water of the Missouri. Here he made friends by his quiet, unobtru- sive manner and fidelity to any work he undertook. South of Fort Benton the country was in a chaotic state. About Helena, Deer Lodge and Butte City mines of extraordinary richness were be- ing developed, but every man’ carried his life in his hands. Murderers and horse thieves raled in Buite city. Hen- ry Plumer, a religious sheriff, command- ed a gang who held up the stages, kill- ing the passengers and attacking the frieght trains that were the only means of transportation at the time. Plumer was a jolly fellow and everybody's friend, but one morning about dawn Butterfield’s stage was hailed a few miles from Butte and a volley ot bullets fired into it, killing the driver and all the , failure in the new walk in life, simply because the learning years are already gone by.— Exchange, passengers but one German, who suc- ceeded in getting into the brush, and patchers regulate the passage of trains ( hid himself in an old prospect hole. Here to his amazement he heard a voice he knew well, telling the outlaws “to hunt up the Dutchman, as dead men tell no tales.” He was a neighbor of Plumer and recognized him. Final ly the road agent left and a few hour af- ter a party of citizens found the German and heard his story. Beidler was one of the party, and he advised immediate action. Inside of three hours he had covered Plumer with his pistol in his own house, just as he was saying grace at his breakfast-table. A strong party of citizens swept the saloons and secured a number of well-known local ruftians, and by three o'clock, in Sampson’s mule corral, dangled a dozen bodies, Plumer being hanged first. And now the war commenced. The citizens all over the territory organized, and Beidler was made chief officer. He was a little, round shouldered fellow, whom no one would have taken for a quietly desperate man, but he became a terror toevil-doers and ruffians, who fear el no one else, made tracks when it was known that “X’’ was in the neighbor- hood. By this title he was known from the British border to the Mexican lines. In 1863 a murder was committed that aroused the entire community. Henry McCutcheon was a prominent merchant and extensive frieghter in Bannock City. He determined to remove his business to Helena, and so was imprudent as to let it be known that he would send $26,000 in specie by the next train A Frenchman named Fontaine, a bar- ber by trade and a desperate rufiian, made up a party to rob the train, and about thirty miles North of the city the attack was made in the early morning, and every man save one murdered. Fontaine had told this man, who escap- ed, not to travel with the train as a friendly caution, and as he fired a bullet into his body, exclaimed ‘You fool, I told you not to come here.” Me- Cutcheon’s body was found in a neigh- boring ravine with his head fairly blown off. The outlaws divided their plunder and departed. Fontaine determined to cross the Rockies into Oregon, but “X”’ and a party were after him Sending his men on the direct route, “X” with an Indian guide, took a shorter track through the mountains, and, after a night's riding, came to a point where he commanded the road. It was evident that he was ahead of his man, and soon he heard the hoofbeats of a horse on the rocky road. When the outlaw turned the point he found his pursuer, pistol in hand, ready. He was a hardy ruffian, and at once drew his weapon, but drop- ped from his horse with a ball through his body. “X’ sat patiently on his horse waiting for the rest of the party, who in an hour rode up. Fontaine was still living. He told who were his asso- ciates and then died. The body was thrown into the canon, and the posse re- turned to look for the remaining crimin- als. Inside of a month every one was hunted down and killed. Beidler was made sheriff of Bannock, and inside of a year cleared Southern Montana of its outlaws. He generally went alone and kept his own counsel, and more than once rode into Bannock leading some noted desperado handcuffed to his sad- dle before people knew that he had left town. In 1865 he was appointed United States Marshal, and held the position for twenty years. Only once was he hurt. A man named McKay, a Nova Scotian, had robbed the Helena stage and mail. He was utterly fearless, and had on more than one occasion beat the local officials by sheer grit and good shooting. He sent word to “X’ that he would be at a certain place at a given time, and defied the marshal to take him. “X” knew his man, and day be- fore, he was hidden in a stable near the place, a small mining town of three or four houses in a wild part of the moun- tains. True to his promise McKay rode up to the one saloon in the place, and asked for “X.” He was told that no such a person was there. He started for the stable with his horse, and found himself covered by a pistol, and heard a sum- mon to surrender. He was a master of his weapon, and fired at once, sending a bullet through ¢X’s”’shoulderand drop- ping dead from a shot through the eye. _ It is no exaggeration to say that the ‘courage and resolution of this quiet Pennsylvania “Dutchman” did more to vindicate the law in Montara than all other influences combined. He was, moreover. an honest man modest in demeanor, and for twenty years a con- stant member of the Methodist Church. . An Animal of Bad Repute. ‘Witches in all ages have been report- ed to assume the guise of black cats and the evil one appears also to have been partial to this materialized semblance, says the London Standard. Wken Shakespere made it the familiar of the weird women, and its mewings one of their omens, he simply gave utterance to a superstition universally credited in his day. Some of these old wives’ stories about the animal still linger in Europe, though others appear to have happily died out. Thus, the notion of angry cats eating co 1, which is mentioned in Fletcher's “Bonduca” and other con- temporary plays, can be no longer traced in current folklore. In the most benighted of rural parts the rusties no longer, as they did in Shakespeare’s time, shoot at cats in wooden bottles or in baskets, and feel- ings of humanity have long since exter- minated every trace of the cruel sport, the nature of which is remembered by the phrase of “Whipping the cat at Ab- ington.” TItis unfortunate that the be- lief which has encouraged mere cruelty toward cats than any other—except, in- deed, the notion that witches possess them—is still persistent Thisis what old Trustler calls the ‘conceit of a cat having nine lives.” For this ‘hath cost at least nine lives in ten of the whole race of them.” ——Much foot sensitiveness co uld b removed by a daily regular resting of them in cool water. This simple duty whichcould be utilized as a short-reading time, which obviates much distress, is certainly worth performing. I found this out last summer by taking swim- ming lessons. I really saved the value of chiropodists’ bills, going out once a month instead of twice a week to have my feet treated, while doing twice as much walking as customary. NIT TECTIETN How a Boa Constriction Takes Its Fook. Did you ever see a snakz swallow a rabbit ? asks a writer in the New York Sun. well for you that you haven't. You would be apt to think it over too much afterward, when the recollection would not be altogether a pleasant one. But the reporter saw it recently and here is the way of it: The side of the box in which the snakes were kept was re- moved and two little white rabbits were dropped in. If it isn’t a pretty picture it is a very true one, and in real life was mighty in- teresting, too, The snake was a boaconstrictor eleven feet long. He had made his lass meal about two months ago and was getting a trifle hungry, so his owner decided yesterday to give him something to eat. No, that is wrong; it should read to give her something to eat. For—for some unexplained reason—those who handle big snakes always speak of them in the f:minine gender. They do this without any regard to the snake’s sex. Be that as it may, however, it wus de- cided to give the snake a square meal yesterday, and, as a boa will not eat any thing unless “she kills it ‘herself’” first, it was necessary to provide a live animal for her. Rabbits being soft, tender, easily-digested animals, and also cheap, are generally chosen {o feed the boas and pythons which are kept in cap- tivity here until there is a call for them by some ‘snake-charmer.” It was a very young and inexperienced rabbit that was chosen to feed the big boa yes- terday. The snake was in a dry-goods box, where she had been put to be fed. The little white, innocent rabbit was lifted from its cage by its long ears and dropped gently into the box with the snake. He had never seen a snske be- fore in his brief experience, and was not at all frightened. He went up to the boa and smelled her and walked over her, and seemed inclined to make friends with her. The boa did not seem to notice the rabbit at first. ‘When she did see him she at once coiled herself and drew back her head preparatory to the vicious bite with which the snakes grab their victims. One often reads of the way that snakes charm rabbits and birds before they cap- ture and eat them, and the reporter stood up alongside the box and looked in to see the interesting performance for himself. But he didn’t see any thing of the sort. The rabbit was not charmed in the least. He did not tremble and rivet his eyes on the glittering little black beads in the snake’s head. He did not seem to take in his position. From his actions he evidently thought that he was destined to live to a good old age. Suddenly there was a dart of the boa’s head forward and her cruel jaws, armed with rows of needle-like teeth, closed with a snap on the little rabbit’s head. The movement was so sudden and rapid that it was difficult to follow it with the eye. The rabbit gave one little squeak, but as quick as thought the boa had wound fold after fold of its length about it’s victim's body, and was squeezing it with deadly force. There was no more breath left in the rabbit's body. Prac- tically he was dead the instant that the first coil had been wound about him. He struggled convulsively for a moment. it is true, but it was merely muscular contraction, not done on purpose. It must have been fully five minutes before the snake again showed any signs of being alive, so still and motionless was she. Then she relaxed the terrible pressure of her coils a little and began the act proper of swallowing. This was performed in a very peculiar way. It did not seem like swallowing so much as it did like absorbing. The snake just drew herself overs the rabbit us a glove is drawn on over a hand, and as she did so her jaws stretched wider and wider until it seemed tbat they must part at the place where they joined together. It is marvelous how much a boa ecn- strictor’s jaws and neck can stretch without tearing apart. ‘Wider and wid- er stretched those jaws and less could be seen of the rabbit as he was gradually enveloped. At last, after about fifteen minutes had passed in this wav, nothing but the hind feet of the rabbit could be seen. Then these, too, disappeared, and, with a convulsive movement of the snake’s body near the head, the swal- lowing process was completed. Tt took only about ten minutes more for the lump caused by the rabbit's body to pass down the snake from her head to about eighteen inches below it. Then she crawled over into a cerner and coiled herself up to digest her meal. This will take her a week or two. A LR TS — «FAT MEN,” said a well known New York physician, “are the most gullible creatures of earth. No end of medicine sharps bave made big fortunes purely by the manner in which they have preyed upon the prejudices of men who convey super- finous flesh around with them, and there would seem to be absolutely no nostrum too nonsensical or absurd for a fat man to reject. The merest tyro in matters relating to hygiene knows perfectly well that the only re- sonable way for a man of abundant flesh to reduce himself is by exercise. Then, as he grows thinner, his mucles harden and he increases in strength, but inordinate fat predisposes a man to inertia and languor, and so fat men try to reduce themselves by medicines and medical remedies of various sorts. They succeed in wrecking their di- gestive powers, and that is about all. Most of them are big and strong en- ough to protect themselves in a physi- cal sense, but they are veritable child- ren when they come in contact with quack doctors.” A woman can get more bundles together in half a day’s shopping than a man can carry, and she can buy goods ten per cent. cheaper than he can, be- cause, in the first place, she always asks everybody what they paid for every- thing, and is thoroughly posted on prices; and, in the second place, she has the infinite patience to stand and talk to the clerks, and wheedle, and coax, and bargain, until, in the sheer desperation of utter soul-weariness, they take off two cents a yard, and think themselves lucky to escape so well. ome——————— — «Hell hath no tury like a woman scorned.” There's some consolation for the sinner, any way. No ? Well, perhaps it is just as
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers