Democratic watchman. (Bellefonte, Pa.) 1855-1940, April 04, 1890, Image 2

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

    fn
Bellefonte, Pa., April 4, 1890.
PROGRESS VS. LOVE.
Ah me! the march of Progress
Is driving Love from hence,
For how can parting lovers talk
Across a barb-wire fence?
No swinging gate to lean on,
No high femee with its bars,
Which seemed to shut out Eden,
Where two eyes gleamed bright as stars.
Ah me ! the march of Progress
Exiles tue great logfire,
The stove severe and blackly grim
Can no fair thoughts inspire.
The tallow dip is fated—
Gas in its place burns bright;
The candle had an end some time,
But the gas will burn-all night.
Ah me! the march of Progress
Made sails give way to steam,
And now an ocean passage
Is short-lived as a dream.
No time is left for courting
Upon the steamers fast—
You meet a maid—scarce know her,
When behold! the journey’s past.
Ah me! the march of Progress
Has brough the railroad car ;
More enchanting wasthe stage-coach
With its rumble and itsijar,
As the train speeds swiftly onward
It suggests unrest and strife—
You have no time left for loving,
You have scarcely time for life,
And now the march of Progress
An idol has o’erthrown,
Which this age iconoclastic
Had left to me alone.
Through the streets of ev'ry village
Blaze the great eleetric lights—
And the porch has lost its romance
Through the balmy Summer nights.
—Flavel Scott Mines, in Puck.
THE QUIET MAN.
“I've seen a good many strange things
in my time, as you know, bat I've nev-
er yet told you about the strangest of
them all; and I can promise you that
it’s a story worth hearing.”
So spoke General R , as we sat
side by side in the veranda of his snug
little house in one of the northwestern
provinces of India, watching the sun
sink behind the endless line of stately
palm trees that stood ranged like plum-
ed soldiers along the opposite bank of
the river.
“Suppose you tell it me now, geneér-
al,” suggested I, guessing from the grave
look on the old hero's weather-beaten
face that the forthcoming story must
have deeper interest than any of his
ordinary campaigning anecdotes.
“I don’t mine if I do,” answered the
veteran ; “for although it is an affair
that I have no great pleasure in look-
ing back upon, yct it taught me a good
lesson, if only I had the sense to profit
by it.”
“When I was quite a young fellow,
ard hadn’t long joined the army,” he
resumed, after a pause, “I used to
belong to a fashionable club in London,
the members of which were just the
sort of men you read about in Lever's
novels, as wild as wild could be; al-
ways in some scrape or other; and
spending their whole time in 2iding,
shooting, gambling, or fighting, all ex-
cept one.
“That one was a small, quiet, pale-
faced, gray-haired man, with a very
sad, weary look, as if he had once been
crushed by some great sorrow, and had
never been able to shake it off. He
hardly ever spoke to any one, and when
he did it was in a voice as meek as his
face. So of course we made great fun
of him among ourselves, finding these
quiet ways of his a very queer contrast
to our own rackety, harum-scarum
style, and we nicknamed him the ‘Quit-
est Man’ in the Club, though, indeed,
we might just as well have called him
‘the only quiet man in it.
“Well, one evening when the room
‘was pretty full, and our friend, the
‘Quiet Man, was sitting as vsual in the
far corner away from everybody else,
«we began to talk about dueling; a sub-
ject with which we were all tolerably
familiar, for there was hardly a man
:amoung us who hadn’t been ‘out’ once.
“They did some tidy dueling in the
-old times,’ said Lord H , who was
killed atterward in action. ‘You re-
member how those six chums of Henry
III, of France, fought three to three
till there was only one left alive out of
the six.’
“¢ That was pretty fair, certainly,’
cried (Charlie Thornton, of the Guards ;
‘but, after all, it doesn’t beat the great
duel, thirty years ago, between Sir Har-
ry Martingale and Colonel Fortescue.’
“He had hardly spoken when up
jumped the Quiet Man as if somebody
had stuek a pin into him.
“4What on earth's the matter with
him? whispered Thornton ; ‘I never
saw him like that before.’
“‘But what was the story, then,
Charlie?” asked another man; ‘I've
heard of Fortescue, of course, for he
was the moet famous duelist of his
time in all England ; and I've heaid of
his fight with Martingale, too; but I
don’t think I've ever had any particu-
ig or at least none worth speaking
of.
“41 ean give them to you, then,’
answered Thornton ; ‘for my uncle was
Martingale’s second. I’ve heard him
tell the story many a time, and he al-
ways said that although he had been
in plenty of duels, he had never seen
one like that, and never wanted to see
it again. What they garreled about I
don’t know, and I daresay they didn’t
know themselves; but my uncle used
to say he knew by the look in their
eyes when they took their places to fire
that it could not end without blood,
and itdido’t. They fired twice, and
every shot told ; and then their seconds
seeing that both men were hard hit
and bleeding fast, wanted to put an end
to it. But Fortescue—who was one of
those grim fellows who are always
most dangerous toward the end of a
fight—insisted upon a third shot. The
third time, by some accident, Martin-
gale fired a moment too soon, and gave
iim a bad wound in the side; but For-
tescue pressed his hand to the wound
to stop the bleeding, and then, almost
bent double with pain though he was,
he fired and brought down his man.
“Killed him ?'
* ‘Rather—shot him slap through
the heart. But it was his last duel, for
from that day he was never heard of
again : and people said he had either
committed suicide or died of a broken
heart.’
“Wel, I don’t see why he need have
done that, for, after all, it was a fair
fight,’ struck in Lord H—, sho had
been looking over the newspapers on
the table ; ‘but if you talz of dueling,
what do you say to this?’ reading from
one of the papers.
“ ¢Another Dueling Tragedy in Paris.
The notorious Parisian bully and duel-
ist, Armand de Villeneuve, has just
added another wreath to his bloodstain-
ed laurels, the new victim being the
Chevalier Henri de Polignae, a young
fellow of twenty-three, the only son of a
widowed mother. Some strong expres-
-sions of disgust used by the chevalier
with reterenceto one of De Villeneuve’s
former duels, having come to the lat-
ter’s ears, he sought out De Polignac
aud insulted him so grossly as to ren-
der a meeting inevitable. The chev-
alier having fired first and missed, De
Villeneuve called out to him: “Look
to the second button:hole.of your coat!
and sent a bullet through the spot in-
dicated into the breast of his opponent,
who expired half an hour later in great
agony. His mother is said to be
broken-hearted at his death. How
mach longer, we wonder, will this sav-
age be allowed to offer these human
sacrifices to his own inordinate vanity ?’
“Just then I happened to look up,
and saw the Quiet Man rise slowly from
his chair, with a face so changed that
it startled me almost as much as if I
had sean him disappear bodily and
another man r's: up in his stead.
I had once seen an oil painting abroad,
in which an avenging angel was hurl-
ing lightnings upon Sodom ®nd Gomor-
rah, and that was just how this man
looked at that moment. He glanced
at his watch, and then came across the
room and went quickly out.
“The next night, and the next, and
thenext after that, the Quiet Man didn’t
appear at the club; and we all began
to wonder what could have become of
him. But when I came in ‘on the
fourth evening, there he was, though
he looked—as it seemed to me—rather
paler and feebler than usual.
“¢ Here's news for you, Fred,’ called
out Charlie Thornton. ‘That rascally
French duelist, De Villeneuve, has met
his match at last! and Dr. Lansett of
the—9th Bengal Native Infantry, who
saw the whole affair, is just’ going to
tell us all «bout it.”
“Well, this was how it happened,’
began the doctor. ‘In passing through
Paris, I stopped to visit my old friend,
Colonel de Malet, and he and I were
strolling through the Tuileries Gardens,
when suddenly a murmur ran through
thecrowd, “Here comes De"Villeneuve.”
Then the throng parted, and I had just
had time to catch a glimpse of the bul-
ly’'s tall figure and long black mustache,
when a man stepped forth from the
crowd and said something to him and
then suddenly dealt him a blow.
“‘Then there was a rush and clam-
or of voices, and everybody came crowd-
ing around so that I couldn't see any-
thing; but presently De Malet came up
to me and said, “Lansett, we shall want
you in this affair, although I'm afraid
that you won’t have a chance ot show-
ing your surgery, for De Villeneuve
never wounds without killing.”
‘¢Just then the crowd opened, and I
saw, to my amazement, that this man
who had insulted and defied the most
terrible fighter in all France was a
slim little fellow with a pale, meagre
face.”
#¢ As the challanged party, I have
the choice of weapons,” we heard him
say, quite cooly ; ‘and I choses ~ords.”
‘“‘ Are you mad! cried De Malet,
seizing his arm ; ‘don’t you know De
Villeneave’s the deadliest swordsman
in Europe? Choose pistols—give your-
self a chance !
‘¢ Pistols may miss—swords can’t,”
answered the stranger, in a tone of such
savage determination that every one
who heard him—even De Villeneuve
himself furious though he was—gave a
kind of shudder. “I had vowed never
to fight again, save with a man who
deserved to die ; but you have deserved
it well by your cold-blooded murders,
and die you shall!”
“Where both sides were so eager to
fight, there was no need of much pre-
paration. They met that evening, Col-
onel De Malet being the stranger's
second, and another French officer ac-
ting for De Villeneuve.
“‘As a rule, De Villeneuve was as
cool on the ground as if he had been at
a picnic; but at this time he was as
wild and fierce as a tiger—partly, no
doubt, from having been insulted be-
fore so many of his admirers, but also
because he had found out that the
stranger was an Englishman, and he
hated everything English like poison.
But more terrible than all his fury was
the cold, stern, pitiless calmness of
the Englishman's face, as if he felt cer-
tain of his man.
“ ‘They fought for some time without
a scratch on either side, and then sud-
denly the Englishman stumbled for-
ward, exposing his left side. Quick as
lightning the Frenchman's point darted
in, and instantly the other's shirt was
all crimson with blood ; but the mo-.
ment he felt the steel pierce him, he
made a thrust with a'l his strength,and
buried his sword up to the hilt in De
Villeneuve’s body. Then I under-
stood that he had deliberately laid him-
self open to his opponent’s weapon in
order to make sure of killing him; so
he had, for De Villenuve never spoke
again’
“Just as the doctor said this, down
fell a chair with a great crash, and,
looking up, we saw the Quiet Man
trying to slip past the door. Dr. Lan-
sett sprang up and cuught him by both
hands.
“‘You here? he cried; ‘let me con-
gratulate you upon haviug punished,as
he deserved, the most cold-hearted cut- :
throat in existence. I trust your wound
dces not pain you much ?
“What? we all shouted, ‘was it he
who killed De Villeneuve ?’
ever saw.’
“We all jamp mp from our chairs
and came crowding round the hero, set-
ting up a cheer that made the air ring;
but he looked at us so sadly and so
darkly that it made the shout die upon
our lips.
¢ (Ah, lads? lads!’ said he in a tcne
of deep dejection, ‘for Heaven's sake,
never praise .a man just for having shed
blood and destroyed life. I killed that
ruffian as I would have killed a wild
beast, to save those whom he would
have slaughtered; but God help the
man who shall take a human life mere-
ly to gratify his own pride and anger!
If you wish to know what happiness a
successful duelist enjoys, look at me.
Do you remember that story which
Captain Thornton told here the other
night about the duel in which Colonel
Fortescue—the “famous duelist,” as
you called him—killed Sir Henry Mar-
tingale ?’
“¢To be sure,” answered Charlie
Thornton, looking rather scared; ‘but
what of it?’
“¢I was once Colonel Fortescue’ was
the answer.”
A Broken Hearted Bar.
True Story of the Demise of Jasper
Grindley's Pet. .
According to the story current among
the laymen of this pleasant region, a
year-old bear belonging to Jasper Grind-
ley, a bear killer, had a fight with an-
other year-old bear, also the property of
Jasper, the result of which fight was
the death of the last mentioned bear.
The victor made a break for the woods,
and, in taking a short cut, attempted to
cross Gravely’s mill pond on the ice.
The ice was too thin to support the
weight of the fleeing bear and broke be-
neath him. He disappeared beneath
the ice, and was not seen again until his
dead body was carried down by the wa-
ter to the tail race, and so on to the wa-
ter wheel of the saw-mill. There it be-
came jammed in the paddles and stop-
ped the mill, "When the body of the
unfortunate bear was removed from the
water wheel it was in bad shape.
Such was the story that was current
about the death of Jasper Grindley’s
two bears; and it was tragic enough un-
til Jasper came in with his account of
the affair.
DUCKED HIS MATE.
“Them two young b’ars,”’ said Jasper,
“beat all creation for smartness and it
was just that smartness of their'n
that done ’em both up. They was al-
ways playin’ tricks on one another, an’
one day one of ’em was takin’ a leetle
tramp around the house. He come to a
bar’l that stood atone corner o’ the
house, half full 0’ rain water. He didn’t
know what was in the bar’l, 0’ course,
but thinkin’ that mebbe there was
sumpin in it that mout pan out a heap
o’ fun fer him, he riz up on his hind feet,
an’ puttin’ his forepaws oun top o’ the
bar’l, looked over into it. Not bein’
anything but water in the bar’l, the
chances is that the little cuss’d ha’ got
down ag’in an’ gone on looki® fer
sumpin’ else to git fun out of; but, jist
ez heriz upon the bar'l, t'other bar
happened round that way. He seen his
mate nosin’ inter the bar’l, an’ all on a
suddent it struck him that he see some
fun in the situation. So what does he
do but sneak up ahind t'other b’ar an’
grab him by the hind legs, an’ quicker
than I kin tell ye he lifted him up an’
soused him head fustin the bar’l. ‘While
the onfort’nit b’ar in the bar’l was splut-
terin’ an’ kickin’ and twistin,an’ chokin’
in the water, the tricky little sarpint
that dumped him in just danced an’
pranced around, an’ hollered till yon'd
ha’ thort he’d ha’ busted, the thing hit
him ez being so consarned funny. The
b’ar in the bar’l would ha’ drownded in
short order if IT hadn’t ben clus by, an’
turned the bar’l up an’ let him out.
A TERRIBLE REVENGE.
«That b’ar never let on that he was
put out by the little trick his mate had
played on him, an’ didn’t git mad a bit.
But I could see that he was keepin’ his
eye skinned for a chance to git even.
An’ there’s where I orter kep’ my eye
skinned to prevent anything serious,
but I never thort about .things ever
turnin’ out the way they did.
“That big Dutch oven 0’ mine stands
in the back o’ the yard jist ez it did ez
my ol’ pop built it fifty years ago. The
door is allus open except when we're
usin’ the oven, which haint more’n
wunst a week. One day a couple of
weeks ago I noticed that the door was
shet, but I didn’t think anything wrong
till I see that there was only one o’ the
b’ars around, an’ he was terrible oneasy,
an’ kep’ hangin’ ‘round the oven, whin-
in’ an’ cryin’ ez if his heart’d break.
Then I went and opened the oven door.
Inside o’ the oven iay t’other b’ar. He
was deader’'n a macker’l. TI pulled him
out. He had been suffocated till he
died. There was only one way to ex-
plain it. The b’ars had been in the hab-
it o’ crawlin’ in the oven an’ layin’
there, one at a time, thinkin’ it was
bang up fun. Now the b’ar that had
been dumped in the bar’l 0’ water watch-
ed his chance, an’ when t’other b’ar
clumb in the oven he just sneaked up
an’ clapped the door shet on him. I
wasn’t there to let him out, an’ the con-
sekences was that he pegged out slick
an’ clean.
SELF DESTRUCTION.
From the way the live b’ar acted I
know’d that he know’d jist what his
trick had ended in, an’ he took on orful
to see. He howled an’ whined an’ bel-
lered, an’ somehow couldn’t git over it.
He took to wanderin’ over to the neigh-
bors ez if he was lookin’ fer his dead
mate,an’they told me that if IT didn’t keep
him home he’d git a ball in him some
day. So Iputa rope around his neck
an’ tied t’other end of it to an old plow-
sheer that was knockin’ ‘round the yard.
He could drag the plowsheer about, but
i couldn’t drag it tur. But he kep’ up
{ his mournin® fer his mate, an’ it was
tetchin’ to see him. I thot, o’ course,
| that he'd git over it bimeby, or I'd ha
| put bim outen his misery. :
“One day las’ week Sol Tift come to
my house an’ says:
‘That b’ar o’ your’n,’ says he, ‘isa
corvion. I jist met him walkin’ over
to’ards the mill pond, carryin’ his plow-
i
sheer under his arm ez handy ez I'd car-
ry three pound o’ pork,’
got there quick enough, but I couldn’t
see nothin’ 0’ the b’ar. 1 walked u
around the pond, an’ what should
come on to but the b’ar, standin’ on the
ice an’ breakin’ a hole through it with
the heayy plowsheer. 1 see what he
Indeed it was,” answered the doc- In: “That skeered me. I dug over to’ard little todler will teach her the forbidden
tor, ‘and it was the pluckiest thing I | the mill pond ez fast ez I could go. I
fruits of the nursery—and render less
difficult the disciplines to come later
on. Nurses are the bane of American
motherhood. They undo ina day what
i a mother has toiled hard to achieve,
, and that is why it is easier for a lady in
| moderate circumstances,
who never
was up to at wunst, but afore I could | leaves her duty post, to have her child-
get bim he had the hole big enough, an’
down through he plunked like a musk-
rat. 1 waited, but 1 never see him
ag’in.
| women.
ren grow to be well regulated men and
A man who expects to live his life
The poor little cuss was jist wore | with his wie is better satisfied with the
out with remorse fer what he had done | girl selected from the humbler walks of
to his mate an’ had committed suicide
complete an’ deliberate ez it had ever
been committed sence the world start-
ed !”—New York Sun.
The Way to Matrimony.
Stories Which Show How Proposals
are Often Made.
“Every girl makes up her mind at
some time in her life that she will never
accept any man who does not propose
gracefully,” said a man who was chat-
ting with several others the other day.
‘‘He has got to be fully togged out ‘in a
dress suit, and has got to kneel accord-
ing to the Delsarte system. That is
their idea at first, but I'll bet there isn’t
one girl in a hundred who ever gets her
proposal that way— at least from the
one she accepts— and I'll leave it to the
present company to decide, if each one
will give the circumstances of his pro-
posal.” :
“We're in,” said a gray-haired bene-
dict. “Begin with your own.”
“All right. I took my wife that was
to be, and is now, sleigh riding. We
were talking about sentimental things
and neglected to notice that we ran onto
a stretch of road which the wind had
cleared of snow. We never noticed it
until the horse stopped, utterly exhaut-
ed. There was nothing to do but to get
out and lead the horse back, because he
couldn’t drag us. I proposed on the
way back, while I was trudging along
a country road, with my left hand on
the horse’s bridle and the other—well,
never mind that. She accepted me, but
she always said it was a mistake. I re-
fused to let her off, though, or to propose
again in a dress suit.”
“My proposal,” said the gray-haired
old man, “was made also during a sleigh
ride. My wife and myself were in the
back seat in a four-seat sleigh, and in
going over a bump of some kind the
seat, with us in it, was thrown off. We
landed in a nice, comfortable snow drift,
and the sleigh went on for a mile before
we were missed. When it came back
for us, however, we were engaged. We
weren't in a dignified position, but we
were fairly comfortable and we had the
seat still with us. Since then my wife
has frequently stated that she had in-
tended never to accept a man unless he
proposed in true novel form, but she
did.”
“I'll give you a summer story,’ said
a young man but recently married. “I
did my courting in a place full of ro-
mance, but the proposal never came at
a romantic time ; in fact, I don’t think
a man is responsible for the time he pro-
poses. It just comes, and that is all
there is of it. I had had the most favor-
able occasions in romantic nooks. Fi-
nally I had a two-mile row in the hot
sun. I apologized and took off my coat,
then I apologized again and took off my
vest. It wasn’t romantic, but it came
on me and Isaid it. The boat drifted
half a mile, and T wouldn’t have cared
if it had drifted ten miles. We were
engaged. And I looked like a tramp at
the time” :
“And I'll tell you that sentimentality
doesn’t go,” said a lawyer. “I know,
because I've tried it. 1 proposed to my
wife first at a summer resort, when the
moon was full and I was sober. There
was everything to inspire sentiment,
But she refused me. I letit go. A lit-
tle later I met her again in the parlor
of the hotel and suggested marriage
again. She accepted me then. There
was nothing to inspire sentiment in the
last meeting, and therefore I say senti-
ment doesn’t go.”
It was the sentiment of the meeting
that no girl is proposed to in the way
she expects.— Chicago Tribune.
Some Reasons Why.
That the institution of marriage is
not what it once was, is a fact patent to
the dullest observer, but the fault lies
not with the ordinance, but with cer-
tain customs and individuals them-
selves.
To the mutiplicity of outside diver-
sions are we indebted ina measure for
the decline of domesticity. The clubs
are responsible for much. Many well
meaning husbands are accustomed to
regard there own homes only as lodging
houses and live their lives entirely out-
side. This is all wrong of course, but
the trend of family training is such
that there is small comfort to be gotten
out of the situation ; especially where a
household of ill regulated children so
completely “rule the roost’’ that there
is little chance for anything without the
pale of their unreasoning exactions.
I have seen a beautiful and kind but
mistaken mother fold her hands help-
lessly when her soft, pretty little
flaxen haired tigress of a daughter was
stcrming the castle, so to speak, for
something it was ruinous to let her
have, and finally weakly yield to the
tyrannous tirade she had not the moral
strength to resist. Such scenes are
very likely to engender disgust in the
mind and heart of a masterful man
whose home is made a perpetual bed-
lam by the children who should make
it a joy. Ofttimes seeing the weakness
and vacillations of the mother he takes
the reins in his own fingers and goes to
the other extreme.
“For shame, Susie, I shall tell Papa
when he comes.”” The little one fearing
his harshness is becalmed as it were,
through hypocrisy. This state of affairs
develops traits it makes one shiver to
think of, and in the fresh sweet soil of
that bright young mind are tares sown
which will swiftly uproot the good seed
and leave the little one a prey to
impulses, likely to wreck her after
life. A mother should commence ber
training with .the infant in her arms.
Nothing should be suffered to interfere
with her habits of ministration. The
hours for baby’s bath, baby’s meals and
baby’s nap should be regular as her
own. A contented child is usually a
happy child.
A small tap upon the fingers of the
| the world who feels to her heart’s core
the sacredness of home and the obliga-
tious of life, who understands that
murriage means mutual loveand mutual
| helpfulness, and is likely to make no
| mistakes concerning the tenure by
| which her duties are held, who renders
her home so comfortable and so cheer-
ful that her husband leaves the salcon
and club entirely out of his reckoning ;
who will teach her young daughters in
time that it is one thing to win love and
another thing to keep it; and that in
this sacred compact each must do their
part, bearing each other's crosses and
sharing each other’s joys.
But that bitter failures occur when
wives and mothers do their best, is a
well-known fact. There are men seem-
ingly without human hearts, and fem-
inine martyrs are not fev. by any means,
women who work against discourage-
ments, hoping against hope, standing by
their duties as long as there is a plank
tostand on. Such noble women may
meet no recognition from the world, but
from their children they will receive the
hard-earned blessing, ‘Well done, good
and faithful, marty wrife, or happy
mother.”
A Curious Plant.
The Falkland Islands have a very
damp and chilly climate, and are swept
by the south polar winds that they seem
always cheerless and uncomfortable.
Snow may fall at any time of the year,
and yet it is naver really cold. The cat-
tle and sheep thrive well the year round
without hand feeding or shelter, and
the inhabitants, mostly of English or
Scotch origin, have thus far found stock
raising a profitable and safe investment.
In such a windy climate no tree can
grow, but nature has provided immense
supplies of excellent peat, which serves
well as a substitute for wood or coal as
fuel. But, though the Falklands pro-
duce no trees, they do produce wood--
wood ir a very remarkable shpae. You
will see, scattered here and there, singu-
lar blocks of what look like weather
beaten, mossy, gray stones of various
size. But if you attempt to roll over
one of these rounded boulders you will
find yourself unable to accomplish it.
In fact, the stoneis tied down to the
ground—tied down by roots ; or in other
words, it is nota stone, but a block of
living wood. Ifyou examine it at the
right time you may be able to find upon
it, half hidden among the lichens and
mosses, a few of its obscure leaves and
flowers. If you try to cut it with an
axe you will find it extremely hard to
do so. It is entirely unwedgeable—
being made up of countless branches
which grow so closely together that they
become consolidated into one mass. On
a sunny day (if you are luZity enough to
see a sunny day in Falkland) you may
perhaps find on the warm side of the
“halsam-bog’” (for so the living stone is
called,) a few drops of a fragrant gum,
highly prized by the shepherds for its
supposed medicinal qualities. This
wonderful plant is the Bolax glebpria
of botanists, and belongs to the same
family as do the parsnip and the car-
rot.
Remarkable Sheriff's Sale.
Va-
A Farmer Secretes His Goods in
rious Queer Places.
The Pottstown Ledger of Saturday
tells the following : A curious and ex-
citing Sheriff’s sale came off at the farm
of Orlande Noll, in Muhlenburg town-
ship, Berks county, on March 13th.
‘When Sheriff Becker arrived he was told
that many valuable articles he had ad-
vertised could not be found. He saw
Mr. Noll and requested him to produce
the missing goods, which the farmer
did not do. The Sheriff asked the peo-
ple present to assist him in a search for
them, and then a remarkable scene be-
gan. In a granary, buried in chaff,
were found forks,crowbars,harness,ham-
mers, etc., under the hay in the mow
were discovered the hay-rake, sleigh,
barrow, plow, feed cutter, forks, and
flails. The Sheriff, not yet satisfied, or-
dered the seaachers to look under the
barn floor, the planks were torn up, and
to the astonishment of all, the scythes,
harness, meat and sausage cutters, cider
press, hoes, picks, crobars, chains and
other things were pulled out. And still
the hunt went on. It was suggested
that a woods near the barn be searched,
which was done, and the party brought
out a grindstone, cart harness, single tree
and traces, and a sled. The sale now
began and bidding was lively, but the
articles sold on the premises only aggre-
gated a kundred or two.
Notwithstanding all the discoveries
made thus far, it was known that the
most valuable things were stiil missing.
Sheriff Becker received information that
Noll had taken a lot of property to the
premises of James W. Schmeck, a mile
off, and consequently announced that
the sale was not over yet; the Sheriff
rolled. up his trousers and started off
through mud 6 inches deep, the whole
parade following. On reaching Schmeck’s
the latter was called aside, when he
said the gouds had been brought there
without his knowledye. A search com-
menced and the Sheriff found two horses,
a cow, heifer, clock, 3 copper kettles,
lounge, carpet, carpenter tools and other
articles,which were put up and sold. Noll
had disposed of his best cow and a bug-
gy, after the levy.
The sale being over, Sheriff Becker
thanked the people for their assistance.
A warrant was then sworn out for Or-
laude Noll, for secreting the goods, and
he was arrested, taken to Reading and
bound over to answer at the court. The
accused claims that the goods ave owned
by his wife.
——The biggest school boy in Rhode
Island is believed to be William Davis,
of Westerly, who is 13 years old and
weighs 287 pounds.
All Sorts of Paragraphs.
—The Bank of France employs 160
female clerks.
—Children are punished tor couching
. . > >
in school in Brooklyn.
_ —A winter Chautauqua is to be estab-
lished at Crescent City, Fla.
—The Archbizhep of Paris has issued
a decree forbidding cremation.
~~ —The income of Rockefeller, the
Standard oil man, is 31,000 per hour.
—A Hungarian lawsuit has just been
settled after having been in the courts
for 470 years.
—There are five New Yorks, nine
Philadelphias and twelve Bostons in the
United States.
—The town of Addison, in Maine,
has twelve couples who have been mar-
ried fifty years or over.
—France hashalf as many people as
the United States, but her natioral debt
is twice as great as ours.
—The New York Legislature will
pass upon a bill prohibiting the placing
of pictures in cigarette boxes.
—C. B. Evarts, the Senator's oldest
son, devotes his attention to managing
the big farm at Windsor, Vt.
—Maine folks are frugal. They in-
creased their deposits in the savings
banks last year by over $2,000,000.
_—Some of the orange trees at River-
side, Cal., are so heavily laden with fruit
that the branches have to be propped up.
.—A New York firm sued a sewing-
girl to prevent her from working with
another firm. She is an expert sewer.
-—Representative Charles H. Gibson,
of Maryland, is considered the handsom-
est member of the Lower House of Con-
gress.
—Phemiller Broussard, of Louisiana,
aged ninety-one years, has just married
a lady somewhat over fifty. It is his
second marriage.
—Prince George of Wales will soon
be promoted to therank of commander,
there by leaping over the heads of 600
senior lieutenants.
—XKing Menelik, of Abyssinia, has re-
ceived from the King of Italy a magni-
ficent crown of gold, set with emeralds
and pearls of great value.
—There are reported to be over 100,000
Sunday-schools in this country, with
1,100,000 teachers; and eight and one-
third million of scholars.
—Maryland producers expect to grow
12,000,000 quarts of strawberries this
year, but all the same they “are ordering
20,000,000 ¢quart’” boxes.
—South Georgia barbers have a rule
that is universal. A stranger is requir-
ed to pay fifteen cents for a shave,
while a resident pays ten.
—Though the Chinese are for peace,
they are having builtin England a pow-
erful ironclad, two swift cruisers and
two torpedo gunboats.
—Eli Circles, of Carroll county, Mo.,
won a $35 sewing machine by producing
twelve ears of corn that weighed eigh-
teen pounds eleven onces.
—The coat shirt is said to be the
latest. It is open in front all the way
down, is made to fit the figure, and does
not have to be pulled over the head.
_ —The other day a barrel containing a
live baby In good shape was canght
fioating down a Tennessee river. It had
“navigated” thus for sixty miles.
—A large assignment of cotton seed
has been received in Oklahoma, which
will be distributed among the settlers
immediately, and planting will begin at
once. :
—An old man lives in a tower in the
Austrian Alps, the highest meteorolog-
ical station in Europe. He gets $200 a
vear, and hardly ever sees a human
being.
—Dr. Brown-Sequard is still engaged
on his youthful elixir at Paris, and per-
sists in believing that his experiments
will at last be successfully established.
—John Mills, of Sparta, Ga., is fat-
tening jay birds for the market. He
feeds them well and they grow large.
He thinks of going into the business very
extensively.
—Brighaw Young had fifty-six chil-
dren, of whom thirty-one were girls and
twenty-five boys. Some of them died
in infancy or childhood, but the most of
them reached mature age.
-—There is a colored woman living 1n
Dallas, Tex., who claims to be 145 years
old, and people say she looks it. She is
honest enough to admit that she never
saw General Washington.
—The Czar, according to a recent sia-
tisticians’ calculation, is the largest ‘‘pri-
vate” owner of land in the world. The
total is about fifty million acres, about
the size of the whole of France.
—An English traveling harpist has
been discovered cheating the railroad by
carrying his little girl done up in the
green bag with his harp. He had trav-
eled so all about England and paid no
fare for the child.
A Model Negro Postmaster.
There is gheat excitement at Ameri-
cus, (Georgia, over the nomination, by
President Harrison, of David Dudley,
a negro blacksmith, for postmaster.
Dudley has been seen onthe streets
frequently under the influence of liquor
and has a local reputation as a bar room
debater. Buta short time ago he was
ness and assault and battery. For this
he was fined $50. Itis alleged that
three years ago he was convicted of
wife-beating, and a search of the records:
is now being made. Affidavits of the
above facts have been sent to Congress-
man Crisp. The mayor of Americus
has telegraphed that the appointee is
“incompetent, ignorant, vicious and
unacceptable to both parties, white and
black. He is utterly without character,
and can neither read nor write.” A
general petition is being prepared in
Americus, signed by people irrespective
Dudley's confirmation.
a —
——There is no decided change in
gloves. Those gloves in four and six
button lengths are still preferred for or-
dinary shopping and general wear,
while the mousquetaire is by strict eti--
quette reserved for afternoon receptions
and dress wear. Many ladies refuse toa
be bound down by any such rule and
wear whichever style of gloves is most.
suited to them.
#
arraigned before the mayor for drunken- :.
of color and party, protesting against