TUE. Bemoratic {ally Bellefonte, Pa., Aug. 31, 1894. man . WHEN BABY GOES TO SLEEP. When Katie takes the baby, and the nodding little head : Gives token that it's weary and would like to go to bed, An air of death-like stillness ‘bout the house begins to creep, And SvSrYhody’s silent when the baby goes to sleep. Sometimes I get so frightened that I almost lose my breath— If I chance to make a bit of noise it scares me most to death. When from ‘neath a tiny eyebrow I see a half- way peep From big blue eyes, when baby has almost gone to sleep. And when at last a twinkling of a tiny smile appears : On lips that angel kisses softly touch as dream ing nears. 3 1 give a sigh of gladness, that is full of thanks, and deep, That the world can once more move on, for baby’s gone to sleep. Edward N. Wood, in Atlanta Constitution JESSICA'S LOVE AND PRIDE. A Thrilling Story of Life on the Texas Frontier. BY WILLA LLOYD JACKSON' The little town of Simpkinsville lay torpid under the brazen sky of August. Even the dogs, a gaunt, restless breed, had succumbed to the languor: that brooded almost visibly over the place and lay asleep close to the shadow of the few houses, only blinking as the flies grew more daring, but too lazy to resent it after the approved manner of getting rid of these enemies. The ‘“‘gtore,” as the one emporium of the town was called, had its usual comple: ment of loungers before its open door, but conversation had dwindled down to an occastonal request for a “chaw,” which was generally granted in silence the exertion of producing it affording the owner au excuse for a yawn and a lengthening of the body. The gentleman who administered to the requirements of the public had had no customer for something over an hour and had left Lis bar, which made only half a man of him, leaving his nether proportions a matter of faith, and sauntered out to join the group dis- posed at the door. This broke the spell and presently another in this en- chanted region, like the palace in the poem, rose to his feet, a tall, long: limbed young ranchman, and strolled with an affected air of indifference to- ward the house about a hundred yards away. This house boasted of the rare adornment of a porch from which hung yellowed gourd vines. This | porch was unmistakably a concession to fashion, but it gave the cotiage a frowning, high-shouldered aspect. Under the gourd vines sat a man in his shirt sleeves, but this was indeed the prevailing mode in Simkinsville, coats only being worn on Sundays and on election days as a comphment to the Deity and the government. This man was old Vanvechten, the pioneer of the county, and his long, white beard and voble features remind- ed one of an old lion, sirong and courageous still, though contented with laurels already won. From with- in the house came a voice singing nas- ally “Old Hundred” with an evident enjoyment of the mournful numbers, whilein the doorway eat a girl of 17 stringing scarlet peppers, which ran through ber fingers like living coals. She would have been beautiful in ar- tistic eyes the world over, but the peo- ple ot Simpkineville took no pleasure in the warm coloring of her hair, the delicate contour of cheek and brow, with the exquisite curve of her thin sensitive lips. Her dress was of calico from which the figures had all long since faded, leaving it a creainy white, contrasting faintly with the snowiness of her throat, from which it fell away, revealing every dainty line as she turned her head now and then to note her progress through the heaps of pep- pers by her side. The man from the store reached the steps of the porch, and ostensibly cleared his throat, though the ‘hem’ was intended to awaken the old man. It bad the desired effect, and the own- er of the house turned his still piercing eyes on the visitor. “Ha, Cagp, that you ? Come right in Jessicy, bring a cheer, quick. By the great horn spoon, what won’t a man do when he’s a-courtin’. But onct merried and the woman can do all she’s a mind to.” Casper having assisted Jessica in bringing forth the chair, the girl re- sumed her seat on the doorsill, while the man that loved her went back to talk to her father, but it was to steal many a sly glance at the head bent demurely over her task. “What air the news, Casp? has that thar dun heifer got home yit ? "Twar’nt no later than last night that I ’lowed that I seen her pass this way, but M’ria stood me out it war Young's cow with the broken horn.” “It must bave been her, for mine ain’t come home yet. Yes'day one of the men from the Lilly ranch told me he saw just such another critter run- ning with Bernardo’s cattle, and thai she’d been branded lately.” “In Bernardo’s herd ?"’ echoed old old Vanvechten, also eyeing his daughter. “I always sayed that these hyar Mexicans ain’t to be trusted further than yur kin see ‘em. Irs | born in 'em to steal and to give you a Judas kiss whiles they’s actually run- ning thar hands into your pockets a. clearing you out.” “Well, Bernardo's only half a Mexi- can,” murmured Caspar, for which he was rewarded by a flash of Jessica's kindled eyes into his own adoring ones though it was only for a moment, for her long black lashes fell again, mak- midnight on her fair cheek. “Course I know that well’s you. I knowed his father, and for a white man Reese Barton was as like a Mexi- can as it is in the natur of things. No great harm in him tell you got him in to a tight place, when he'd let every friend on earth goto save his own skin Why, onct me and him—" bat these reminiscences were cut short by Caspar rising to his feet and shading his eyes, straining them to make out the small moving body which had just showed above the horizon. Youand I would probably not have been able to distin- guish it from the black dots of cattle which, like sharp breaks of notes in the monotone, were scattered about the prairie, but Caspar Lane's tutored eyes told him that it was a body of rapidly riding mounted men. “Who is it?’ asked old Vaunvechten rising to his teet and advancing to the edge of the porch. “Can't tell yet. May be cow-boys from Kelley's ranch. It’s about time for them to clean up the town again for a frolic.” “They’ll find the Sheriff after them some day, and then these hyar cut- tings up won’t seem as funny as they do now.” The old man went back to hie chair of home manufacture, with a cane bottom, and lighting his pipe, sat mumbling to his guest. “Lemme see, what were we talking 'bout ? Oh, yes, Bernardo Barton. I knowed his fath- er twenty year, and I declare I war plum outdone when he married that greaser’s daughter. They had money then, but that couldn't make her white.” “That ain’t no cow-boys,” said Cas- par, suddenly rising once more. “They ride too sober for that. I do believe it is the Sheriff and his posse.” II The beat had growa well nigh un- supportable. The eye could scarcely left itself to the glowing sky, and down where the earth and sky met there was a darkeuing of the line. The horsemen rode steadily on and eoon revealed themselves as ten or twelve stalwart Texans clad to a man in blue jeans, with wide felt hats, and from every belt swung pistols and cartridge belts, while every right hand carried the long, black shape of a rifle. Old Vanvechte# walked majestically down the path that joined the road before the cottage, and as the leader, a small muscular man with quick, dark eyes, that would have been good natured had it not been for theirsternness with the dignity of duty, came abreast of him, the old pioneer cried out with a hearty intonation of friendship veiling his curiosity : “How're you, Sheriff ? Sorry for the poor devil that’s got you on his trail-” The Sheriff grinned and halted, his men doing the same, glad of the op- portunity to uncover and wipe the drops from brow and face. * “Kaint you ’light for a minute ? Hello, thar, Jessicy, fetch that thar leetle jug with the red stopper, draw a bucket of cold water and git your ma to git out the sugar. ’Light, gentle. men, 'light, and come right in.” The officer hesitated, but the men- tion of the “leetle jug” settled it. It was not in human nature to resist its pleading to be relieved, so he leaped lightly te the ground and followed by his by-no-means reluctant posse, tied his horse. The party trooped in and established itself it various postures about the porch, on the steps and the floor itselt. Mrs. Vanvechten stopped singing to come forth and greet the majesty of the law as represented un- der roof. “What's the trouble now, Sheriff ?” asked his host, eager to hear. The officer pursed his lips and shook his head, but once again the jug proved all powerful, as Jessica brought it out with water and sugar aud he dropped the one word ‘Bernardo’ from his ton- gue. The girl's face turned white and the great grey eyes with blue lights seem- ed to harden into granite with fear and horror. But she stepped back and only Casp, with a lovers quick com- prehension and sympathy for his loved one, discerned her trouble. “I always knowed he'd come to grief.” said her father, with a keen relish of the situation, forgetting that the man of whom he spoke had been his guest a thousand times, and that he had more than suspected that bis daughter cared for him. “What's he done now ? “Oh, the same old thing—cattle stealing,” said the Sheriff, sipping his toddy with the appreciation of an epi- cure. “Serious charge, Clint 2’ insinuated Vanvechten, failing in his excitement to regard the unwritten law that gives to this magnate his official title when engaged on professional duty. “Yes, pretty serious. Old man Lan- caster and Jim here has been missing cattle right along, and yes'day they spotted them running with Bernardo’s with the old brands kivered over with a big B. B.—his mark, you know. And I says to myself this hyar thing’s gone on ‘long enough, and by next month I'll have my gentleman landed in the pen—that is, if the boys don’t overpower me and treat him to a new necktie 'twixt now and when court meets over to Del Rio.” He laughed and drained his glass, and Vanvechten motioned to Jessica to come forward and to fill it again, but the girl's hand trembled so that she spilled some of the precious elixir on the floor, where it was eagerly lick- up by one of the hounds that lay com- panionably about among the men. Mrs. Vanvechten siezed the jug her- eelf with an execration on her awk- wardness not deeper than her hus- band’s, and proceeded to replenish all the emptied glasses hereelf- Jessica retired to the door once more, and with her face addressed to the black clouds that had now grown to men- aceson the earth line, listened to what followed. “They say that Bernardo’s to be merried to-night to old Gutierres’ dar- ter,and that he gits four thousand head o’ cattle with her, and all the old Senor’s money whenst he comes to die, She's his only child,” said one of the men. Jeesica started forward, color gone from cheek and lip, but her clasped hands crushed back the cry that rose in her bosom. Casp turned away his head. This was the news he had come to deliver that day, but his cour- age had failed him as it sometimes did when he had to draw his knife across the throat of some wild-eyed, piteous rabbit. How he wished ke had told her. He could have done it much more tenderly than this man’s abrupt tongue, He spoke up now : “Yes, he’s to be merried to-night. They say the gals crazy ‘bout him, but I reckon he’s an eye to that cattle ; ’sides he owes old Gutierres a pile, and most likely he thinks it will be safer for him to live ‘cross the river anyhow. Too many’s gotitin for him for Texas to esactly suit him. “All the same, Texas will have the favor o’ feeding him for the next five years at least ; that is, always if he don’t git that new necktie I was telling 'bout,” chuckled ithe Sheriff, receiving graciously his fourth glass of toddy from the fair hand of Mrs. Vanvech- ten. III Jessica still stood with her face to those ever deepening clouds bearing in their breast a thunderbolt, ber heart stirring with a vague sympathy for the storm hidden there, but silent as yet, like the one in her own bosom. He was a traitor he deserved to die. Why should she whom he had deceived and laughed at raise a finger to warn or help him ? Only yesterday—a sob rose in her throat, but it died as she sav- agely ignored it—he had sat on his horse yonder and leaned down to whisper that he loved her and to call her pretty names in his soft Spanish speech and as she thought of it she could feel once more his glowing, beautiful eyes burn into her soul. But all the ecstacy of love was gone from the remembrance, and only her soul was seared by it. She could have raised her arms and wrung her hands in her agony, but there were curious eyes upon her and she only stepped lightly back into the room and was gone so quietly that no one save Casp missed her. She changed her dress rapidly, though her hands trembled, and belt- ed a short red skirt of cotton about her then took down the gun that hung above the fireplace. Out of the rear door into the yard where an old mule stood tied, she stole, and undoing the rope that held the animal she leaped to his back and was gone. She skirt- ed the village lest she ehould be geen from the porch, then with a dig of her naked foot into the mule’s side sent him at the height of his speed across the prairie. On and on and on toward the west riding hard, but her fears and her purpose going on beforelher. Any moment the posse might be on its way again, when they could easily over- take her with their faster and better kept horses. For herselfehe had no fear, but would she arrive too late? Oh, move quickly old Bob! Do your best work now ! God give him strength to go on! She knew little of God except as He was portrayed in the little whitewash: ed church at Newton, fifty miles away, a portrait which she had tried to love, but which had always seemed to her that ot a very exacting, even cruel tyrant that called for all that made life pleasant as a sacrifice to Him to give nothing in return but a mythical heav- en surrounded by a dark world of tor- meof, from which the wailing of lost friends could reach the souls within, only these souls were to be so happy in their own salvation as not to mind their brothers’ doom. But now in that wild ride across the prairie ehe could look up and feel that perhaps beyond that sky there was somebody that cared and who would help her if he prayed and prayed, so she began to ut- ter disconnected sentences of the Lord's prayer, mingled with supplications of her own, “Thy kinglom come.” “Oh, God, keep the mule up! Our Father in heaven, ballowed—! Oh, God, hold Cliat Burnes a little while longer: I'll be so good, God, if you'll do this for me. I'll neverdance sgain. I'll join the church next Sunday. Oh, help me, help me!” breaking into ten- der little moans as she recalled the Sheriff’s fearful intimation of her loy- er's probable fate at the hands of the mob, Cattle stealing was the gravest offense in the code of this region. Murder was always “self-defense.” but. to be caught red-handed with another's cattle was not pardonable. And they hated him for his Mexican blood al- ready. As che drove the mule on without a moment's rest for him or herself all at once the thought that ehe was saving this man to be another woman's husband smote her to the soul. Iovoluntarily she checked old Bob, and her eyes hardened again, and her firm set lips curved into a crue! smile, but the next instant, though ehe ground her white teeth together, ehe was urging the mule forward. Ah, yonder was the Devil's river! She could see its steep banks showing dark in contrsst to the green about. Just beyond was Bernardo’s home. Would she find him there? Had her ride been all in vain? On, cld Bob, on! A roll of distant thunder broke on her ear, and she saw the detached clouds close into one like scattered hordes of menacing soldiery nniting into one body to sweep all before it: She turned her head to look behind heres she reached the narrow wooden bridge that crossed the river at this point, the only bridge | for many miles, and what was that | coming fast and faster from the direc: | tion she had just traversed ? It was the | Sheriff and his men! She flung her’ arms about old Bob’s neck and besought him |by every effectionate name she could frame to hurry, to hurry. He | caught the infection of her spirit and thundered over the bridge as though he had been three years old instead of ov- er twenty. | She gained the little house,little more than a cabin, and without waiting to knock ran in at the door. Bernardo stood before a fragment of mirror twirl- “ing his black moustache with a dreamy smile on his face. Jessica was in his mind at the moment, and he wondered who would be the first to tell the poor little girl and how she would take the news of his marriage. His mother, wrinkled and sallow, with eager hands was on her knees beside him arranging his sash of heavy crimson silk and smoothing the velvet of his full trou- sers, His jacket was short and of blue satin fringed with gold, as were his sleeves, while the shirt beueath show- ed white and fine. Iv. He turned quickly as Jessica entered, blushing in spite of himself, for this was his wedding dress that be had just donned, and the thought passed through his mind that she had just heard of his marriage and that she had come to stop it by imploring him to remember his many vows to her or to threaten him. But one glance at her face told him that there was something serious- ly wrong. The woman kueeling beside him looked up at the girl with a scrowl and a sneer. She had always hated her and feared that she was to be her daughter instead of the rich and high- born Mexican across the Rio Grande. That Senor Gutierres had begun life as a herder she did not choose to remem- ber. He had.ten thousand head of cat- tle now and that was enough to give his daughter blood or anything else she wanted. And now here, just as she had arranged for Bernardo to settle down in life, when he had actually on his wedding dress, for this girl to come upsetting all! It was to much. But her face changed as though she had with drawn a mask when Jessica cried: “Save yourself, Bernardo; quick quick, for the love of God! The Sheriff is coming, and he says they will hang you if old Lancaster’s and Jim Bellow’s cattle is found with yours. Run, run; make for the big river. The—the peo- ple there—your friends will give you shelter. Quick, quick, I say.” He caught up his pistolsand thrust them into his sash, and then uot wait- ing for his hat with the gold cord about it, in which he had just now rejoiced, ran out of the house. His horse, gayly caparisoned as himself, with a splendid saddle of wrought Mexican work, stood ready at the door. The man un- tied him and then turned to the girl who was assisting him, and, true to his teacherous nature, bent down his hand- some head to kiss her. But the fair face burnt with indignant fire, and be- fore he could defend himself a small brown hand smote him across his smiling mouth. In all the years that Bernardo lives he will have an uncom- fortable memory of that blow with the back of a woman’s hand, aud still into his soul will burn the contempt and hatred of his treachery that flamed in those glorious eyes. He turned without a word and flung himself into thesaddle and with a cruel lash at the horse dashed away over the pairie. Jessica's eye swept the horizon on the other side of the river and saw the Sheriff riding bard in advance of his men, spurring his horse on savage- ly as he caught sight of the scurrying figure beyond. The girl ran to the end of the bridge nearest her and waited the coming of the officer and posse, with ber gun covering the approach. They rode ou confidently, not noticing what she held, but as the Sheriff's horse touched the bridge with his fore- feet there was a cry of “Halt; halt right where you are! Youdon’t come a step further | Halt, I say!” The click of the trigger told them that she meant the words and they paused disconcerted. To be held up by a woman—was unheard of. Clint Burues had been a soldier and taced fire bravely and, after a moment's hesi- tation, he resolved to make an attempt at taking the bridge at any rate. He gathered up his reins and the horse moved his feet, but that was all, for as the gun swerved evere so little trom its original position to cover his breast, he read in the girl’s eyes that which made him check the animal as suddenly as if death itself had struck him into stone. Afar off he could see Bernardo’s lying form rapidly becoming a mere speck in the distance, and though there was yel time to overtake him ere he could cross the river to the south and reach Mexico and liberty, as long as that grim weapon spoke of the girl's deadly purpose, there was no following the trail, Oae of the men now rode to his side. “I say, Sheriff, haven't we the right to shoot that girl down. She's aiding the escape of a fugitive from justice resisting us in his capture ?”’ The officer was not clear by any means as to the law on this point. Such a thing had never occurred be- fore in his holding of his position, but he did know one thing. “No, we can’t shoot that thar girl, law or no law, Hank.” “Why not her in particular ?"’ asked the other. He had not been long a resident in the State. The Sheriff paused to throw away the quid he had in his mouth and to adjust his leg over the pommel of his saddle. “Why, ‘cause she's a Vanvechten, and if we burt her a mite we'd have to kill the whole of Val Verde county, or fight them all, tor most everybody round hyar’s kino to ber on her pas side or on her ma’s. And I kin tell you, old Pap Vanvechten himself is a whole team. No, sir, I ain't hunting up wuss than twenty Indian massacres, not to-day, least-waye.” His last words were drowned by a burst of thunder that lived again and again in sullen reverberations, while across the darkening sky ran a fiery serpent of blue light. “About face there, all of you. I'm going back to Simpkinsville. Thar ain't nothing to be done to-night, any- how, and there's going to be a hell of a time of a storm along hyar pretty soon,” Then, with no chagrin in his voice, he stood up in his stirrups, and called good-humoredly to the girl who had foiled him: “You had better come along home, Jessicy. There's going to be a storm pretty soon. I'll gin you a mount behind me.” Then, as she shook her head, he weat on, “I'll act square by you. You've beat me, I'll own, but I don’t bear you no ill-will.” She shook her head once more, iand offended by her evident suspicion of his good faith, he said no more, but rode on with the others, Vv. “You don’t fool me, Clint Burnes,” she said, addressing his unconscious back. “Do you suppose I don’t re- member the old tree flung across the river at that narrow place? A man kin cross on that if a horse can’t and you're bold enough to try it.” She stood watching the cavalcade as it wound along, not daring to leave the bridge for fear they might double on! her and ride back, and yet fearful that they would dismount and attempt the passage of the river on the fallen tree. But it was evident that the officer did not know of the other crossing, or that he bad forgotten it, for the train pres- ently vanished in the direction of the town. She was weary with her long ride and the varying emotion that had swayed her, and she sat down close to the bank of the stream for a moment, taking no heed of the brooding storm in her agitated thoughts. If she went back to Simpkiunsville it would be to face a cruel curiosity, a thousand in. sulting queries, and the girl's soul shrank within her as she thought of that taunt that she had done a bold and improper thing for the sake of a man that had put her to shame by jilting her. Again the heavens seem- ed cleft by a sword of flame, and the earth shook beneath the shock of thun- der that broke right over her head. Alive to its threat she at last sprang to her feet. In a few moments the river might be raging under a cloudburst common in these parts, so given to sudden caprices of weather and the blood of men, and she could not ask hospitality of the home of Bernardo. No, never! She turned and went back to where the mule had been grazing quietly until the terror of the storm had sent him trembling and whinning close to the house. The Mexican wo- man came forth now, and surlily, but with an effort to appear grateful, prof. fered her an invitation to enter, but Jessica shook her head with a shudder. It was his home and all was ended be- tween them foreyer. Even now he might be vowing fidelity to his bride! She caught the mule sternly by his bridle and led him toward the bridge, where she could mount, But what was that sound ? A roaring, a foaming of angry waters, and as she neared the stream she was nearly shaken trom her feet by the rush of a black wall that struck the bridge and swept it before its tide as if it had been a straw. The ‘mule broke irom her hand and ran back, dripping with the sweat of ter- ror. The girl ran along the bank for several hundred yards in blind excite- ment. Ab! here was still the fallen tree that spanned the stream, which, lying as it did, from point to point of a higher bluff than the rest of the bank, had only been wet by the spray of the rushing torrent. She must cross, for her hot brain knew but one impulse, which was to put as much space as possible between her and her whilom lover and all that belong to him. She shut her eves to the swirling waters beneath her and felt for the tree with her bare feet. She could cross best by feeling her way. There was no fear in her heart. She only knew that she was weary unto death and that she was ready to accept anything that might happen to her. Foot by foot she crept on, cautiously moving forward inch by inch. She had made two-thirds ot the perilous journey when her bare feet came in contact with a cold, slimy body. She opened her eyes to see lying before her a dead snake, left there, no doubt, by the tor- rent as it swept by. She caught her breath with a stifled cry of horror, saw the foaming, hurrying flood almost within reach of her, a swimming of the brain seized her and with a cry of in- voluntry alarm she flung up her arms and the next moment the angry river received her in its greedy grasp. Casper Lane met the Sheriff and his baffled and swearing posse as they rode into the little town, and, as he listened to their story, untied his horse that stood saddled with those of the loung- ers about the store. He must nd his sweetheart, none the less so that the great broad shouldered fellow had nev- er found the courage to tell her so. He had only the vaguest idea now of what assistance he could render her, but the thought of her being alone on the prairie with a storm coming on was-in- tolerable to him; so, moun‘ing his mustang, he rode swiftly for the river. His keen eyes sought the bridge, but it was gone, and further up a woman was crossing the stream, apparently on empty air. The old tree! Was she es- saying that? He galloped on, each moment seeming one long throb of an- guish, and as he reached the banks of the river he saw the little figure on its aerial span lose its balance. and with a thrill of horror saw it disappear. He threw himself from his horse, | crying aloud to something he knew not, ! and jumped out as far into the stream | as possible. She was just ahead of | him. He could see her scarlet skirt as | the eddying water in sport caught it | and threw it here and there. Now do; your best, strong arm; fail not muscle | and nerve. He gains on her, puts out his hand to grasp ber streaming hair, when the mischievous spirit that dances | on this dark tide tantalizingly sends her beyond his reach. Oace more put the waves back, strain on with renew- | ed determination and ah, he has her! But has the river but given her to him that they may die together ? He must make the bank, but the current op- | poses hin with the fury of a demon. The girl lies motionless on his arm,her | esgities of life. white face imploring him not to leave her Heavens, to die thus! Suddenly to Casp Lane the world seemed 80 sweet ; life, if he might al- ways hold that face on his arm, such a goodly thing, that he renews his fight. His battling arm comes in contact with something stationary, and he grasps it desperately. It is one of the supports of the bridge still standing, and there he clings, exhausted, until from the bank is heard old Vanvechten’s voice, and a dozen eager hands cast him a rope. He slips the noose about the girl, and with glad eyes sees them draw her to where they stoop tand lift her from the tide. Then everything seems to reel betore his vision, and it is the Sheriff himself that has to swim ont to him with a second rope secured about hie body, and to bring him to shore, where insensibility claims him for its own. When he opens bis eyes again it is to see Jessica's face above him, and with his hands he draws it down to his own until her eyes meet his, and in their gray depths he reads a promise of hope fulfilled. Tea Growing in Japan. In the twelfth century Kyoto was the centre of life in Japan, and the district of Uji, between that city and Nara, has always kept its reputation for producing the finest tea. The most valuable leaves are those on the young spring shoots, and when I passed through on the 19th of May these were just being gathered and dried. Most of the shrubs grow in the open air without any protection, evergreen bushes from two to three feet high, and among them the women and children were at work. As they squat- ted by the plants fllling their baskets very little of them was visible, but their big grass hats shone in the sun, looking like a crop ofgigantic mush- rooms. The Japanese ‘‘kasa’” is made of various light wmaterials—straw, split bamboo, rushes, or shavings of deal; it is used, like an umbrella tied to the head, as a protection against sun and rain ; in the evening or on cloudy days it is laid aside, and the laborers wear only their cotton kerchief, spread out like a hood, or tied in a band round their brows. Though it cannot be call- ed the “vast hat the Graces made,’ it is never-the-less, very effective in the landscape, and the variations ot its out- line in different positions indicate happi- ly the action of its wearer. The plants which produce the most expensive teas, costing from six to eight dollors a pound, are carefully protected by mats stretched on a framework of bamboo, so that the tender leaves may neither be scorched by the sun nor torn by the heavy rains, and there are acres of them so enclosed. It was a curious thing to look down from a littie hill-top on a sea of matting which filled the whole valley from one pine-clad hill to another, its surface only broken by the ends of the supporting poles and by the thatched roofs of the drying-houses which stuck up here and there like little islands. Underneath the mats women were pick- ing, and in every way-side cottage those who are not in the fields were bus- ily sorting and cleaning the leaves. Thereare no large factories or firing- bouses ; each tamily makes its own brand of tea, labelling it with some fanciful or poetic name --From ¢Eariy Summer in Japan,” by Alfred Parsons, in Harper's Magazine for September. Slowly Bleeding To Death. The Result of Being Struck in the Nose During & Ball Game. The directors of Manhattan Hospital and several physicians are greatly puz- zled over the case of Edward Wood, aged 18, who is slowly bleeding to death in spite of all efforts to save him. ‘Wood attended a baseball game be- tween amateur nines Wednesday and was struck on the nose by a foul ball. His nose bled, but Wood was too much interested in the game to notice it, ex- cept to press his handkerchief to his face. When he went home he tried some simple remedies, but all night long the blood came, drop by drop. In the morning he was quite weak and a doc- tor was calied in. He tried scientific remedies, but the blood still trickled forth. He called in other physicians, but their united wisdom did not prevail. Wood grew weaker and weaker. On Saturday he went to bed and remained there until 5 p. m. to-day, when the doctors, having exhausted all their remadies and given up the cace, he was removed to the hospital. There Drs. Wittson and Volio tried to stop the dropping of blood, but to no avail. Wood’s nose is not broken, and no par- ticular injury can be discovered. He was very much emaciated last night. He had not been able to take any nour- ishment for two days, and it was con- sidered doubtful if he could live until morning. ——As there promises to be a some- what heated discussion over the wages of window glass workers, the manufac- turers insisting onja reduction of 30 to 46 per cent in view of a reduction of the tariff duties, would it not be proper, to satisfy a pardonable public curiosity to put forth some exact information on the earnings of the glass workers with duties ranging from 48 to 124 per cent? Also, what bave been the dividends of of operators under such a rate of du- ties. Window glass is one of the nec- The producers are in small proportion to the consumers. There are stories of almost fabulous wages and dividends. What are the facts ? ——Papa,” said a little boy, “ought the teacher to whip me for what I did not do ?”’ “Certainly, not, my boy,’ replied the father. “Well,” replied the little fellow, ‘he did to-day when I didn’t do my sum.” —— First—“There is one sign that should be placed over every letter-box in the city. Second—* What is that ?”’ First—‘Post no bills.” — Fale ord. Rec-
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers