DANII ——
RN
Bellefonte, Pa., Aug. 14, 189L
«THE UNIVERSAL AUNT.”
BY J. P. BEEL.
There's an omnipresent personage who sel-
dom gets her due, :
But if the muse will come to me and kindly
help me through,
T’ll advertise her virtues in a way to make her
a
And iy her recognition, which perhaps she
never had.
She has seen a sight of trouble in this world of
death an woe,
For all her blood relations they have melted
off like snow ;
Every niece and every nephew has gone to
wear the crown, ;
And left her here to be an Aunt to every one in
town. .
She has a bit of property—-a.village house and
ot—
Six hundred would be liberal to cover all she’s
0
Exo a few resources, that are scattered
here and there, ;
Which she wouldn't want toswop, to-day, with
any millionaire.
The little house she loves as well as if it were
of gold,
Has multiplied upon her hands the promised
hundred fold,
Until for miles around about wherever she may
roam
She meets the welcome, “come right in and
make yourself at home.”
She is very sure to visit every meeting house
in range, :
And, to her, a big revival is an industrial ex-
change,
Where some dozen Christian people break the
Sabbath and the peace
Seeing whose shall be the wagon that shall
take her old valise.
She does a pile of patching on the children’s
pants and coats, - .
She can whip out any doctor on their dipth-
eritic throats ;
She brings them thro’ the measles, thro’ the
whooping cough and mumps,
And she cures both man and woman of the
very worst of dumps.
~She has Somslitils notions about the way to
00
From which it's very evident she doesn’t go
book ;
Butyou'll declare the minute that her dinner
comes on deck
You can never do it justice ’less you lengthen
out your neck.
In a long protracted illness she is handy as a
nurse,
She is so kind and gentle when the patient’s
growing worse ;
And when it is all over and they take the fu-
nerai hack,
She makes the house seem cheerful when the
family get back.
So she’s dispensing sunshine, with the grand-
est of results;
Her dose is never different for children or
adults ;
The dogs will wag there gratitude, and all the
cats will purr,
Whenever heaven favors them with just a
sight of her,
1 said I’d sound her praises, but the world will
never know
Her full all purpose value while she sojourns
here below ;
But by and by ’twill lose her, and from that
humble gate
There will pass a long procession that will
help us estimate.
Every heart that's in attendance will attest her
noble worth,
Every eye will there be weeping for a royal
one of earth ;
Every roseand every lily, every little potted
plant
Will be paying lovingtribute to the universal
Aunt. Rochester Democ rut.
To the Rockies and Return.
How the North-West Looks to a Penn-
sylvanian.
Many of the readers of the WATCH-
MAN have never been west of Chicago;
more have never looked upon the tur-
bid waters of the Mississippi or wearied
their eyes watching for an ending of the
broard, flat acres that stretch away to
the westward of it. Few who have not
seen it, have any conception of the vast
territory—some fertile, productive and
promising, much arid, unfruitful and
desolate, that lies between the Father of
‘Waters and the Rocky Mountains ; and
fewer still can have any definite idea of
the wonderful growth, the solid, sub-
stantial business-like look of cities that
have sprung into existence, within yeas
which it does not take an old man
to remember.
A four weeks’ trip extending across
the State of Wisconsin, via the Chi-
cago, Milwauke and St. Paul Railroad
—a five days’ stop at St. Paul and Min-
neapolis ; then on via the Northern
Pacific, through Northern Minnesota,
the southern part of North Dakota, and
southern Montanna, to the Yellowstone
Park, and the summit of the Rockies at
Butte, and return through northern
Montana via Helena. Great Falls and
the Red River Valley in northern
Dakota, over the Great Northern Rail-
road to St. Paul, has opened the eyes of
the writer hereof to facts and conditions
in that part of the West that are not set
forth in the circulars of land agents, or
the promising prospectuses of investment
companies.
A fer & pleased tide ta Chicaga—the |
big, busy, boasting Babylon of the
‘West—on the Pennsylvania’s new and
unequaled train, the Columbian ; a short
stay at that point quring which we no-
ticed that about all that has been done
in the way of preparing for the World's
Fair, or Columbian Exposition, is the
erection of a board fence around the
proposed grounds, and a three hours
ride through a well tilled and fraitful
country, we found ourselves at DMil-
wauke, Kvery body East, knows of
Milwauke, or at least of Milwauke beer.
Have you ever been there ? If not, and
you get within a days travel of it, it will
richly repay you to spend a few hours
there, It is not unlike other cities in
many respects. It has its big business
houses, prosperous manufactorizs, fine
residences, delightful drives, enterpris-
ing papers, pretty parks, churches,
schools, and the best Hotel in the
“Plankington’’ there is in.the country,
hotel ; but it is in the character of its
population, the easy going, honest con-
tentment of the large majority of its pop-
ulation that makes it seem a peculiar
and particularly pleasant place to a
stranger. Three fourths ofthe inhabi-
tants are German. Four-fifths of the
resident population, we were told, own
their own houses, many of them modest
wooden buildings, costing probably from
$1.500 to $3.000. Thereis no evidence
of push or rush or scramble to get rich.
Any one you meet has time to stop and
answer civilly, any question you may
ask. The slot machines which in other
places has the label “Drop a nickle in
the slot,” have in Milwauke the legend
across the face, “drop a penny in the
slot,” and get what others charge a
nickle for. The young men don’t seem
to care if their hair is parted in the mid-
dle or not, and the older ones do not
bother about their pants bagging at the
knee. Yet all seem prosperous and
happy. We happened there when the
German Singing Societies of the North-
west were holding their ‘“Sangerfest,”
and it looked as if all the bunting and:
the patriotic calico in the country had
been gathered together to decorate the
city. It was a regular gala week. An
orchestra of 50 trained musicians, a
chorus of 1500 cultivated voices, and an
audience at times of twenty thousand
people listened to the music. Is it to
be wondered at that Milwauke looked
happy under the circumstances. Sitting
in the tower at Schlitz’s park where a
fair view of a large portion of the city
can be had, and noticing the scarcity of
smoke stacks or otherevidences ~f manu-
factories, we inquired of a gentleman,
who evidently thought he knew all
about it, what the people of the city—
the population exceeds 200,000-—gener-
ally did for aliving? “Oh!” said he
quickly, “they make beer.” “But they
can’t all live making beer’” we answer-
ed, “what do those who don’t make beer
do?” “They drink it” was the reply.
We afterwards discovered that our in-
formant knew but little more of the city
than we did, for Milwauke has some of
the largest and most prosperous locomo-
tive works,iron foundriesand other manu
factories in the country. In the evenings
before the singing societies met, the princi
pal business seemed to be beer drinking,
and from a single night's observation
we concluded that Milwauke has more
front porch beer drinkers of an evening,
in proportion to its population, than our
eastern cities have church goers on Sun-
day. And yet while there we did not
see an intoxicated person, a policeman,
or the necessity for one, and strange as
it may seem, the records show that the
arrests for drunkenness in that city are
less in proportion to the population than
in many of the New England towns that
profess to enforce prohibitory statutes.
It's an eight hours ride across the
State from Milwauke to La Cross, via
the Chicago, Milwauke & St. Paul
Railroad, which by the way is one of
the safest, shortest and pleasantest routes
one can take, and over which you find
comfortable cars and excellent train
service. Over theentiredistance, except
astretch of about twenty-five miles on
either side of the Wisconsin river which
is sparsely settled and has » sandy, bar-
ren looking soil, you pass through a well
populated, prosperous appearing country,
The farms which are plenty, look fruit-
ful and easily tilled, patches of hard
wood timber are noticed all along the
way, plenty of shade and fruit trees are
to be seen, the farm buildings are gen-
erally good, although a Pennsylvanian
soon notices the absence of the big barns
so common in his own State ; the wheat
crop, which was being harvested as we
returned, we were told, would av-
erage from 20 to 25 bushels to the
acre; corn looked thrifty and strong
most of it being in tassel, the oats and
potato crops abundant, and over the en-
tire distance, from Lake Michigan to
the Mississippi river, there was every
appearance of prosperity and abundance
among the farmers of that State. The
towns passed through were well built
and substantial, church spires and
school houses loomed up all along the
way, and pretty girls adorned the depot
porches everywhere we stopped. De-
lightful fresh water lakes, some a little
bigger than a wash tub, others extend-
ing for miles, and nearly all with tim-
bered borders, dot the State from end to
end, and furnish duck shooting and
fishing ‘grounds of the finest kind.
From what we saw of Wisconsin, in
this section, and afterwards up about
Red Lake River,and teking into consid-
eration the fact that it is now Democrat-
ic and intends to remain so, we have an
idea that it would be a pretty good
State to resids in. Improved farm land
can be purchased in most any part at
prices ranging from $15 to $50 per acre,
with no mountainsiand but few stones
to bother the plowman.
At La Crosse, at which place large
lumber mills are in operation, you cross
the Mississippi, which at this point is
about as large as the Susquehanna at
Lock Haven. From where you cross it
up to Hastings, a ten honrs ride, one
sees little except river bluffs on one side
and river and river bluffs on the other,
except at occasional spots where the
just as other cities have,-~minus the | bluffs and river do not meet, prosperous
towns or patehes of fartile farm land un-
der good cultivation are noticed. At
Red Wing, a pretty town just at the
point where the river widens into Lake
Pepin is thelhome of Gen. Jas. S. Bris-
bin, so well known to all our readers,
‘who, since the Indian troubles have
quieted down, is dividing his time be-
tween duck shooting’ and over-seeing his
splendid farm, across the lake in Wis-
consin. Next February the General re-
tires from the army, and he tells us that
he is giad the date of retirement is so
close. From Hastings, where the road
re-crosses the river to the eastern bank
of the Mississippi, to St. Paul, is a short
ride through one of tha most productive
and thickly populated farm regions of
the West.
A five days’ stay in St.Paul to attend
the meeting of the National Editorial
Association (the proceedings of which
have already been given by the daily
press) and to enjoy the hospitality of
one of the most hospitable cities on tae
face of the globe, gave ample time to
see and learn much of this great com-
mercial metropolis of the North-west
and its twin sister Minneapolis. If we
have heretofore had doubts of the truth
of the statementstconcerning the growth,
the solidity, the enterprise, the beauty,
wealth and prosperity of this wonderful
city of the west, we have them no long-
er. Noone will who visits it. The
stories that are told of its fourteen-stor-
ied business blocks, its residences co-ting
close onto a million of dollars, its miles
upon miles of paved and cleanly swept
streets, its boulevards and bridges, its
lawns and lakes, its business and push,
its rail-road enterprises and future, are
not “wild western” fancies, but actual,
realized facts. Of Minneapolis,its sister
city,and but nine miles distant,the same
can be said. In any notice of this rap-
idly increasing North West these two
cities should ba treated as one, which
they virtually are in locality, interests,
and success—so grown together that a
stranger cannot tell where the one ends
or the other begins. St. Paul, which
forty years ago had less than 1000 in-
habitants, has now over 133,000. Min-
neapolis, which thirty-seven years ago
was unknown has over 160,000. To-
gether they have 145 public ani private
school buildings, 302 churches that will
aggregate in value over one million of
dollars ; 40 banks with over $20,000,-
000 capital ; manufactories and mills
the value of which cannot be estimated;
a system of sewerage and street improve-
ments that cost in a single year $782,-
000 and are unequaled in any city on
the globe. Their building permits for
two years amounted to $955,000.
Their jobbing trade in 1880 was over
$300,000,000, and their manufacturing
output close to $150,000,000. St. Paul
has a Court House and city hall that
cost $1,014,000, and the day we left
Minneapolis laid, with great ceremony,
the cornerstoneof a $2,500,000 building
for the same purpose. They have more
miles of cable and electric street railways
than any city in America, and are the
starting point of a dozen differect rail-
way systems which aggregate in length
over 20,000 miles of tracks. And all of
this Alladin-like growth in less than
half a century, in a section of country
only now in the beginning of its devel-
opment. What will the future of
these cities be when the Northwest is
fully peopled? Don’t ask land
agents or speculators. They’ll stun
you with their reply. For the big heart-
ed, open handed hospitality extended by
the citizens of St. Paul to the editors
and editresses who attended the conven-
tion we tender our due proportion of
thanks, There is no end to their en-
terprises or expectations, neither was
there Jimitto nor stint in their hospit-
ality and kindness.
St. Paul is not only a liberal, hospitable
and enterprising place, but it is highly
moral (?) as well—that is, in some re-
spects. It was late on Saturday night
when we registered at the Ryan. On
Sunday morning, preparatory to going
to church, we sought information at the
office as to the locality of the barber-
shop. “That's closed, you can’t get
shaved in this city on Sunday, sir,” was
the answer. “How about a cock-tail
this morning ?’’ asked a thirsty looking
gentleman who had been waiting for a
chance at the clerk. “Gl, that’s all
night, sir.the bar's open al) the time; just
go back along the hall,” was the reply.
He went “back along the hall” and we
got shaved, after going out and around
a couple of corners, thea slipping th rouzh
a half dozen of doors and a celler way,
as if going to commit an awful crime.
All the time that “Sunday breaking”
barber was trying to make us present-
able, we were wondering what queer
kind of morality it was that punished
one man for keeping a barber shop open
on Sunday and allowed a bar tender to
sell a belly full of bad whiskey to whom
ever would buy it. While around the
city that afternoon, we noticed ‘that all |
the bars and restaurants, d&igar stores
and fruit stands were open ; all of which
fact will be mortifying news, we know,
to the temperance and other good peo-
ple who read this paper—aund nearly all
of them do ;—but when we tell them
what we saw up at Miles City and on
the way to Livingston the next Sunday,
and at Butte the following one, their
hair will rise in holy horror, and they'll
wonder what in the world all their
missionary money has been spent for.
West of St. Paul, along the line of
the Northern Pacific, for 150 miles is a
most charming country, except in spots,
where tamarack swamps seem to get
away with every thing else. It is flat,
dotted with pretty little lakes bordered
mostly with timber and which, when ve
passed, had thousands of ducks upon
them. For the first 100 miles the land
is seemingly well occupied and much of
it under cultivation. From the car
window you see no hills, stones or
stumps ; the soil looks black and rich,
and so easily worked that one team of
horses ought to do as much ploughing
in a day as two would do among the
hills of Pennsylvania. The crops,
wheat, oats, corn and potatoes were ex-
cellent. For the next fifty miles the
country had about the same appearance,
excepting that little of it was occupied
or under cultivation. A further ride of
50 miles takesiyou through what is called
the timber belt. We failed tosee the
timber. It has either been cut or never
grew. There is wood and brush but ne
‘timber.” At Lake Park, where the
“timber” ceases the wheat section be-
gins and from there on to Jamestown
in north Dakota, a distance of 130 miles,
is a country as flat as a barn floor and
all over which wheat grows as easily as
does crime in a republican city. In
many spots as far as the eye can reach
on either side, in front and behind the
train, one sees nothing but waving wheat
and blue sky—no fences, no trees, no
shade, nothing but a blazing hot sun, a
deep blue sky and wheat, wheat, wheat.
‘Where the ground has not been broken
for wheat the prairie lies untouched, no
effort to grow anything else being visi-
ble. At Dalrymple you pass through a
single wheat farm of 20,000 acres. From
Jamestown to Bismarck, 150 miles, the
country is rolling and wheat fields
scarce. Most of the distance nothing
but unbroken prairie is to be seen. From
St. Paul to this point the farm buildings
are small, mostly one and a half story
houses, with a single shed for outbuild-
ings. No barns or corn cribs are seen,
and in many instances, in fact in a ma-
jority, the farm buildings consist of a
gingle story house about the size and
having very much the appearance of a
freight car without wheels. Through
the wheat belt the houses, such as they
are, are far apart, without fruit, gardens,
or shade.
West of Bismarck you reach the bad
lands, and from there to Billings, over
600 miles, the greater portion of the way
along the Yellowstone river, is a country
of sand hills and gulches, sage brush
and sand, alkali and mosquitoes, which
to all appearances is not worth 5 cents
for 5,000 acres. It is however a part of
the great grazing range of the west, and
around the sand hills—buttes they are
called out there—and among the sage
brush, is a bunch grass that grows, and
1s so nutricious that stock of all kinds
fatten upon it sufficient for the market.
Through this section nothing but this
bunch grass and sage brush grows with-
out irrigation. It seldom rains and
when it does the sandy soil dries out so
quickly that there is no moisture left to
assist vegetation. There are no houses or
buildings outside of the immediate vi-
cinity of the railroad stations, many of
which are only water tanks or section
bosses’ residences. There are brush pens,
sheds built of poles, brought from the
mountains many miles distant, or dirt
houses dug in the sand hills, scattered
here and there, where ranchmen have
located claims and stay part of the year
to watch their stock. Many flocks of
cattie, sheep and horses are seen all
along the way, and we must say for this
verdureless, treeless, sun scorched, mos-
quito ridden plain, that from the time
we entered the cattle country above
Bismarck, on the Northern Pacific road,
until we left it on our return, east of
Minot, on the Great Northern Railroad
—a distance of almost 1500 miles—we
did not see a weak, thin, poorly fed ani-
mal of any kind. Horses even that
work, are turned loose without grain at
night and find plenty of nourishment in
the bunch grass to keep them in good
condition. Cattle and sheep were fat
as ifstall fed, and many of them were
and all looked ready for the butcher’s
block. But throughout this entire coun-
drink, or comforts or conveniences of
any kind. A scorching sun blisters
your face, an aikali dust burns and
chafes your skin, wosquitoes pester the
life out of you till your eyes look, but
look in vain, for a hidirg place from
these nuisances.
Miles city is a place of about 1000 in-
, habitants. A few years ago it claimed to
have 8,000. We stopped over night
here and found Mr. Orlando Beck and
! family, formerly of this county. They
are living very comfortably and con-
tentedly in a snug little house built by
Mr. Beck, about a mile east of the town,
cultivating a five acre truck garden.
As there is little grown in that section
-—nothing except where land isirrigat-
ed—vegetables and small fruits bring
good prices and Mr. Beck's son, who
being shipped at the time we were there |
try there is neither shade, water fit to |
FEET
markets the products of his garden, tells
us that they have realized from sales
at the rate of $150 per acre per year.
Mr. Beck himself is sinking artesian
wells at which business he has been
qnite successful the past three years.
Of the entire colony from this county
that emigrated to that place with him
eight years ago, not asingle one of them
is there. Those who did not return are
scattered elsewhere throughout the
west. While at Miles city we went up
to Fort Keogh, two miles distant, to
see the Indians taken during the Pine
Ridge trouble.
Mr. Lo! in his original faith, feathers
and filth, He lives in his tepee, a short
mile from the Fort and under the eye
of the soldiers ; loafs continuously, eats
government beef, grows fat and wastes
no time in washing, The squaws tan
hides, make moccasins and dry and fly-
sun on poles erected at the entrance to
their tepees. Their camp is full of dogs,
dirt and pappooses, and a ten minutes
stop was as long as we cared to remain
in this home of the “noble red man.”
‘When we left Miles City on Sunday
morning, the stores,restaurants and bars
were all open, but we were told, as a
kind of an apology for this seeming
want of respect for the Sabbath, that
at half past ten all business places were
expected to be closed, and remain so
until after church hours, (they have five
churches in the town) after which those
who desired to, opened up, and others
went down to the race course to see a
horse race,
From Miles city up,the flats of the Yel-
lowstone widens out at places into little
vs; valleentton wood trees line its banks
in spots, but buttes are less prominent,
and back among the sand hills an occa-
sional scrubby pine tree can be seen. At
Rosebud there was a promising looking
wheat field and at Custer, Bull Moun-
tain and Clermont—three towns without
houses—could be seen large tracts of
meadow land, the result of irrigation.
It was Sunday, but the mowers and
hay-makers were as busy cutting and
making hay as republican office seekers
on election day.
At Billings—the best built and brisk-
est town we passed after leaving St.
Paul—the valley is from three to five
miles wide and irrigating ditches and
growing vegetation make it look like a
paradise, compared with the arid coun-
try through which we had passed.
It is here you get the first breath of pure
air that comes from the distant Rockies,
and it is here your eyes look for the first
time upon peaks whose summits are
eternally covered with snow. From
here to Livingston is a delightful ride
through a valley that irrigation prom-
ises to make exceedingly fruitful, and
from every point of which snow capped
mountains are to be seen.
(concluded next week)
ETE
Governor Pattison on Horseback.
The Washington correspondent of the
New York World writes: Governor
Hill, Governor Campbell and Governor
Pattison are probably the hardsomest
young men whose names have ever been
canvassed in connection with the Presi-
dency. All are men of fine proportions,
tall, straight and commanding, and each
wears easily and naturally the air of au-
thority. The nomination of either
would give to the party as fine looking
a candidate as it possessed in either John
C. Breckinridge or Winfield S. Han-
cock.
This town, by the way, will long re-
member the appearance of Governor
Pattison in the procession which escort-
ed Mr. Cleveland to the Capitol and
back again at the time of his inaugura-
tion. Pennsylvania was well repre-
sented in the line, and Governor Patti-
son rode at the head of the Keystone
troops. He was splendidly mounted,
and appeared at the ease of a skilled
horseman. He was attired in a plain
suit of black and a tall silk hat, which
afforded a striking contrast to the flash
of the uniforms of his staff. He was a
conspicuous figure, easily the handsomest
man in the whole line, and one whom
everybody at once noticed.
Inquiries from strangers were shower-
ed down from balconies to the street as
be passed, and when the answer came
back that the handsome horseman was
Governor Pattison, of Pennsylvania, the
cheering that went up was something to
remember. The Governor had not mis-
calculated the effect of his outfit, and his
reception warmed his heart through and
through. His tall hat was lifted time
and again in acknowledgment of the
greetings, and his staff rode well back,
so as to give him the fullest oppor-
| tunity,
If Governor Pattison should be nomi-
nated and elected President next year
the ladies of Washington will be likely
| to insist that he should imitate Mr. Jei-
ferson and go on horseback to the Capi-
| tol to be inaugurated.
Two King’s Grand Daughters.
There are two young girls, well
| known in the London society, who
{ know how to sew so well that they
make their own gowns, who nnder-
stand the homely science of making
"bread and the butter which accom-
| panies it; who paint welly are capable
| musicians, are familiar with the art of
| sculpture, read and speak fluently four
different languages, and if thrown on
| their own resources could support
themselves in half a dozen womanly
ways, all of which is well, as their
mother is only the daughter of the
Danish King and their father the son
of that humble personage known fa-
miliarily as the Queen of England
and Empress of India, Victoria, Re-
gina.
a
It is here you behold
blow their beef, entrails and all, in the!
The Bank of Engtand.
Down in the Money Vaults Amid Al-
most Countless Wealth,
The automatic bodyguard now shows
some animation, savs the London edi-
tion of the N. Y. Herald. Producing
a hand lantern from another mysteri-
ous recess h bids us follow. We walk
in narrow alleys formed of piles of
boxes, where not a ray of light peune-
trates, and find ourselves making a
rapid descent, with the lantern ahead,
like some guardian angel. We de-
scend a steeper incline than the others,
with the defunct bank notes in their
sarcophagi all around us, when a chili
air striking us proves that we are well
underground.
Then the figure in front turns and
announces to us in a tone calculated
to strike terror into nervous persons.
“We are now in the labyrinth.” I be-
gin to feel like another Guy Fawkes
going to blow up the whole place.
But the sudden twists and turns we
take always in that bewildering maze
of piled up cases are becoming most
trying to the banker, who is not ac-
customed to dodging a will-o’-the-wisp
in a catacomb.
1 begin to entertain fears that he is
leading us to some dungeon fastness
when he tarns again and solemnly re-
marks, with a wave of his hand, “All
bank notes.” Some idea can be gain-
ed of the quantity when it issaid that
they are 77,745,000 in number, and
that they fill i5400 boxes, which, if
placed side by side, would reach two
and a half miles. If the notes were
placed in a pile they would reach a
height of five and a half miles, or if
joined end to end would form a ribbon
12,455 miles long. Their superficial
extent is a little less than that of Hyde
park ; their original value was over
£1,750,000,000 and their weight over
90 1-2 tons.
Along another passage we enter a
large room—really a vault—which is
surrounded from floor to ceiling by
iron doors of safes which at their open-
ing might be five feet high by five feet
wide. One of these is opened and
shows rows upon rows of gold coins in
bags ot £2,000 each.
One is handed t6 me to hold, and
after doing so for a moment I decide I
will not carry it home. The dead
weight is enormous. Yet theseofficials
handle the slipping, mass as fast as
though it were a book. Another door
is opened and we observe a stack of
bank notes. I remark that I have
seen a lot already.” For answer the
manager takes out a parcel of 1,000
£1,000 notes and says :
“Take hold.” Ido so, and am told
I am holding £1,000,000. I should
have wished to hold it longer, but they
want it, so I put it back."
“This small safe contains £8,000,
000” continued the polite manager,
“and you are in the richest vault of the
Bank of England and of the world.
This small room at present holds £80,-
000,000.
By this time my appetite for wealth
is nearly gone. I am nauseated with
the atmosphere of bank notes. My
senses are dulled with the oppressing
spectacle and I hail with delight the
merry splashing fountain in the court
yard. Here are the quarters of the
thirty-four guardsmen who nightly pa-
trol the establishment. A double sen-
try is posted at each gate, and as they
load with ball cartridges it 1s not a safe
place for an enterprising burglar to
tackle. The officer of the guard has
a bedroom in the bank, and is provided
with a dinner and a bottle of the finest
old port,” and I understand that the
guards are also liberally treated.
Beecher and His Teacher.
Henry Ward Beecher certainly owed
a debt of gratitude to his teacher in
mathematics, not only for the knowl-
edge acquired through his tuition, but
for lessons tending to strength of char-
acter. He tells this story to illustrate
the teacher's method.
He was sent to the blackboard, and
went, uncertain, soft, full of whimper-
ing:
“That lesson must be learned,” said
the teacher, in a very quiet tone, but
with a terrible intensity. All expla-
nations and excuses he trod under foot
with utter scornfulness. “I want that
problem ; I don’t want any reasons
why I don’t get it,” he would say.
“I did study it two hours.”
“That's nothing to me; I want the
lesson. You need not study it at all,
or you may study it ten hours, just to
suit yourself. I want the lesson.”
“It was tough for a green boy,” says
Beecher, ‘but it seasoned him? In
less than a month I had the most in-
tense sense of intellectual independ-
ence, and courage to defend my recita-
tions. His cold and calm voice would
fall upon me in the midst ofa demon-
stration, ‘No //
“I hesitated, and then went back to
the beginning, and on reaching the
same spot again, ‘No!" uttered with
the tone of conviction, barred my prog-
gress,”
“The next,’ and I sat down in red
confusion.
“Ie, too, was stopped with ‘No!’
but went right on, finished, sat down,
and was awarded with ‘Very well.’
“Why! whimpered 1, ‘I recited it
just as he did, and you said ‘No !'”
“{Why didn't you say “Fes!” ana
stick to it 2 It is not enongh to know
vour lesson. You must know that you
know it. You have learned nothing
till you are sure. If all the world
says “No!” your business is to say
“Yes I"—not only to say “yes” but
prove it.’
EC A CT— ————
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