Bellefonte, Pa., July 12, 1895. WHICH WAY? Children, stop your play And tell me which way : 1 hall take to reach the city on the hill. First the girl, With a smile; “This way : . Through the woods, across the stile, By a brook where wild flowers grow, - here the birds sing sweet and low; Then you forget it is so far, And how tired you are; For the calm rests you, makes you still, If you take this way tothe city on the hill. Then the boy, With a frown; “By the mill and through the town— “You will see the soldier there, Hear theldrums and watch the fair; Thentyou forget the way is long While you walk in the throng, For the noise wakes you, makes you thrill, When you go this way to the city on the hill» —San Francisco Alta. KNUCKS' 4th OF JULY. dt was during the hottest hour of the hottest day thus far this season, when the streets of the city were like so many ovens, that a small boy present- ed himself at the office of the secretary of the Fresh Air Fund society. There was little ot boyishness in his face, and nope of the elasticity of childhood in his step. He seemed weak, as if ill from the intense heat. He removed his tattered hat at the door and stepped just inside, holding on to the door casing with one-hand. “Got a chance for me, sir?’ he asked timidly. “No my boy,” answered the secre- tary. ‘No one wants boys yet.” The lad made no answer. His weak, dragging footsteps carried him out of the building and down the hot street for a few blocks. Then he stag- gered a few steps, threw up his hands weakly, wavered blindly and fell in a heap on the pavement. “Another sunstroke,” said the po- liceman who picked him up. Next day another boy came to the secretary's office with the question, “Any chance for me sir?’ And again the secretary answered that nobody wanted boys yet. This boy limped on a crutch, for one of his legs hung withered and useless, but his limp was brisk, despite the heat and his evident weariness. And when he heard the discourag- ing answer to his plea he limped out again briskly, and even whistled a few gay notes. But he stopped when out of hearing and one hand slipped fur- tively up. and dashed a tear or two away. . Upon the following afternoon an en- tirely different sort of a visitor came to the office of the secretary of the fund. He was a tall, angular man and came striding briskly up the hot street, mop- ping his moist forehead with a red handkerchief. He might have been less hot had he been so minded. He was walking un- sheltered from the fierce glare on the eunny side of the street, and not only that, but was clad in a well worn pep- per and salt suit of clothes amply warm enough for any weather short of freezing. Instead of a straw hat he wore a thick black slouch. In addition he wae striding along as if walking for a wager. When he entered the office of the Fresh Air fund, the secretary looked up from his writing, then greeted him politely. “Paul Hallett, I reckon ?" inquired the newcomer. “That is my name, sir. I do for you?” “Well, you might remember me.” “] am sorry, but’’— oy “Not surprisin, Name's Joplin— What can " John Joplin from Colorado.” “Mr. Joplin, I hardly”’— “You remember Romford, up among the Connecticut hills? Remember the little yellow schoolhouse jest across the brook ? Remember the lanky Jop- lin boy ?” “I—why ot course I remember you, John Joplin,” said Mr. Hallett, with a hearty ring in his voice. “And I am truly glad to see you again, old friend.” “That's good to hear. You're the rame Paul.” “I don’t know, John. more years is a long time. they served you ?” “I've had my ups and downs,’ ans- wered Mr. Joplin, “fought my fights and got my scars. Yes, twenty odd years is a long time, Paul. I didn’t realize it till 1 walked under the elms up in old Romford the other day.” Mr. Joplin, in his well worn pepper and salt suit, did not look particularl prosperous, and the secretary was afraid that he had been obliged to eave and hoard in order to make this journey back east to visit old scenes. But he was very glad to see him, and he was talking over old times when he was interrupted by the en- trance of the lame boy who had come the day before and gone away with a whistle on his lips and tears in his eyes. “Got a chance for me yet, gir 2’ -he asked. : “Yes, my lad,” the secretary an- swered, “I have just one chance for a boy. You can spend your Fourth of July week in the country? What is your name?" As he spoke he held out a card. “Hi!” The boy fairly snatched the card and hopped out of the room with a emothered whoop. Twenty and How have “Here! Here!’ called the secreta- ry after him. “What's your name ?”’ “Knucks,” The boy was already in the street: and speeding along the pavement as fast as his crutch would carry him, and if there was any more of his name Mr. Hallett did not catch it. “What's this business anyhow ?" asked Mr. Joplin. “I don’t exactly se2 through it.” Mr, Hallett briefly explained the so- ciety. Its beneficiaries were among the children of the very poor, who could never hope to escape for even a day from the exhausting heat of the stifling city unless helped. ; : Kind people living out in the eountry send in their names signifying their willingness. to entertain a girl or a boy for a week. The society paid for the transportation of the children to and from the country. “But very few of these kind people want boys nowadays,” continued Mr. Hallett. “The little chaps are in- clined to be riotous. Nearly every one has asked for girls of late. The boys do a good deal of mischief and behave, I presume, like wild Indians.” “Qr just simply like boys ?’’ suggest: ed Mr. Joplin. Mr. Hallett was in love with his work, poorly paid though his position was, and he told the man from Colo- rado a great deal about-it. Mr. Jop- lin listened gravely. “It’s a good notion,” he said, “and human.” And then little Knucks returned. He hopped in and laid the card on the desk. ‘Here is the ticket back again, sir,” he said. “Let some other boy use it. I don’t need it.” And he turned and started to hop from the room. “But, my boy’’—began Mr. Hallett. “I don’t need it,” the lad repeated, hopping toward the door. oe “But your country week’’'— “I’m not goin.” He was outside of the door by this time. Mr. Joplin’s tall form uprose sud- denly from his chair. He took a few long steps and placed his big hand on the lad’s shoulder. “Here! be said, fairly propelling the little chap back into the ro. “Come back here : “I'm not a goin to the country to- morrow,” the lad persisted. “Lemme go; I'm busy!” “Sit down there!” commanded Mr. foie. ow, when Knucks had received the precious ticket entitling him to the country week he had flown homeward as fast as his crutch would carry him. "Little Jimmy Patton, the sun-strick- en lad, lay on the brisk little cripple’s bed. He looked up weakly as his friend came into the room. “I've got it, Jim!” Knucks cried eagerly. “I've got a ticket for one, an you can go to the country to-morrow !” “You'll get well now, old man!” cried Knucks., “An Jim you jest re- member everything you do and see an hear fer ter tell me.” The sick boy held out the the ticket. “I ain't goin, Knucky,”’ he said. “you are the one who got the ticket; you are to go!” Mr. Hallett was a keen questioner, and it was not till he had the whole story. “Course I wouldn’t listen to him,” said Knucks in telling it. “But it’s no use; he says I got the ticket an I’ve got to ge on it.' “Well, why don’t you?” said Mr. Hallett. “Me? The boy’s tone was defiant but he looked worried and troubled, more than he would tell. “Me go? Who'd take care of him while”’—His voice shook, and he started to hop from the room. “Keep your ticket,” he jerked: “Sit down there again,” said. Mr. Joplin. “Here little feller, both of you can go to the country.” Knucks had sat down, and now for a moment he stared at the man in the pepper and salt suit. “There's only one ticket,” he falter- ed finally. “Hang tickets I" cried Mr. Joplin. “You fellers are goin with me. To- morrow’s the Fourth of July. I'll give a potlatch., I—git along with you. Tell the other little feller that both of you are goin to the country with me tomorrow. Say, hold on. Any more sick boys you know of? Invite 'em all” “John,” interrupted the secretary. “Invite 'em all,” said Mr. Joplin, talking him down. “You've got to have a crowd when you give a pot- latch. Hold on! Better let Mr. Sec- retary do the invitin. But you and the other little chap be on hand here at this office by sun up. Don’t for- get!” : Knucks glanced at the secretary in- quiringly and got a reassuring nod. He flew for home as fast as he could possibly go, wholly unmindful of the heat, and told the giorious news, Jim immediately sat up in bed declaring that he felt well. “But what's a potlatch ?’ he asked presently. “I dunno,” answered Knucks, “but iv’s something good.” Next morning a mob of children stood collected at the door of the Fresh Air society before the sun rose. They were all boys. Such a crowd of weaklings as they were—white faced, skimpy little fel- lows—but every face ashine with ea- gerness, While Mr. Hallett had been issuing the invitations the giver of the potlatch had been equally busy. He had strode hither and thither, made pur, chases and sent telegrams. # Presently all wasready. Across the ferry they were bundled into the cars, and a variety of boxes of all sizes were thrust into the express car, and away they went. It was still early in the forenoon when they reached their destination— a pretty green bowered country village who was riding on the seat beside the driver, lifted his this face to sniff the breeze that blew fresh and odorous from the trees. . ¥ “Smell the green, Kuoucks,” he cried, turning to his comrade who was perched on oboe of the boxes in the wagon. ‘Oh, smell the green I” “The first thing,” said Mr. Joplin’s big voice, “isto eat. Some of us didn’t have as much breakfast as we wanted, and mebby some of us didn’t have an at all. So eat now fellers, and tal later on.” All those urchins fell upon the long table almost like as many ravenous wolves. Andthen in a moment Jim- my whispered something to Knucks, and Knucks hopped over to where Mr. Hallett was and whispered to him, “Mebby we oughn't to eat too much, gir. It costs lots of money, an perhaps Mr. Joplin”'— “Mr, Joplin is the owner of a great cattle ranch out in Colorado,” ans. wered Mr. Hallett. ‘He can afford this.” “We didn’t know,” said Knucks, “His pepper and salt suit looks kinder —well, we—we didn’t know." And when Mr, Hallett told the man from Colorado what Knucks had said Mr. Joplin laughed a big, hearty “Haw! Haw!” and then he looked himself over, and then he colored, ard then he laughed again. When they had all eaten and were filled, Mr. Joplin stood up at the head of the mighty breakfast table in his seedy pepper and salt, and he ead rather awkwardly : “I asked Mr. Hallet to make youa speech, but he says I've got to do it. I haven’t much to say. This is tae Fourth of July. It's the proper thing to read the Declaration of Indepen- dence on the Fourth of July, but tae only Declaration of Independence we're goin to have here is that we're goin to do just exactly as we please all dsy long. “We're goin to yell as much and as loud as we please. There are two big boxes of firecrackers over there, and we're goin to help ourselves to all we want and shoot till they’re all gone. “We're goin to eat again at 1 o'clock and again at 6 o'clock, and we've got to keep busy in the meantime, or we won’t have good appetities. ‘After dinner the ice cream freez:rs will be opened and every feller will grab a spoon. There are four or five barrels of red apples. The heads will be knocked in pretty soon, and we'll fill our pockets and hats, “This is my potlatch, understand, and everybody takes all he wants and does what he pleases with it. Fall into the brook if you want to, or eat yourselves sick, or break your arms; it's all right. A doctor goes with the rest of the potlatch if you need him. We''— “Oh, John, that is not the way to talk to them,” interrupted Mr. Hallet “I'd like to know why it ain’t,”’ an. swered Mr. Joplin. “A potlatch that ain't a free pitch in ain’t no potlatsh at all. Well, then, I'll make this con- dition : No boy shall take advantage of any smaller boy. If he does, I'll thrash him.” ; “So will we!” yelled the boys. “I think I ought to add something to what Mr. Joplin has said,” spoke Mr. Hallett. ‘In the «first place, I presume you are puzzled to know what a potlatch really is. 1 was myself till Mr. Joplin explained. “Away out west, among certain tribes of Indians, when a savage aspires to stand high among his fel lows he saves up blankets and all sorts of desirable articles till he has as great a store of them as possible. Then he invites his tribe to a feast and gives away all the accumulation. “It makes a beggar of him for a long time, but he has won the esteem of his tribe as long as he lives. Mr. Joplin has given you a -potlatch of happiness, and I think he has won more than the giver of an Indian pot- latch ever won.” “Hurrah ! Yes, sir-ee!” the boys. “Tell 'em what made me give it,” said the man from the west. And Mr. Hallett told in a few sim- ple words the story of the unselfish- ness of Jimmy and Knucks. And the boys, being boys, only whooped, but their whoops meant a great deal. And not once during the whole In- dependence day did one of them im. pose upon another, nor break any- thing, nor commit any act that could make the giver of the potlatch regret in the slightest degree what he had done. During the afternoon Mr. Joplin ar- ranged with various families in the village to take care of such boys as needed more than a day of the coun- try air as long as they might require it, and“ the next week Xnucks and Jimmy found that it was all settled that they should live in the country for a year at Mr. Joplin’s expense. At night, after the fireworks had been shot off and it was time to begin the march for the train, the boys cheer- ed for Mr. Joplin till they could have be@® heard nearly a mile, and when they stopped Mr. Joplin said : “Thank ye, fellers.””—T. P. Morgan in Boston Herald. whooped ——He loved her. True his incomes were only fifteen r. But he loved her and he would ask her to be his. She was speaking now, however, and that M=. Hallett had recommended— there was a brass band at the depot to | meet them. “Ware here, Joplin to his boys. “This is the place. It's out in the open air, and | to-day’s the Fourth of July. Yell all | you want to. The band will now play. | The musicians headed the procession | of whooping lads to a pleasant grove | just outside of town. The boys who ! couldn’t run walked, and those who! couldn't walk rode in a long wagon ou ! top of the boxes that had come from the city. As they entered the grove little Jim, fellows !”’ cried Mr. | it is impolite to interrupt. Yes, she was saying. My mother had twenty-three children ville and a select few from the | cortege without. He clutches convulsively at his chair, | ——under her care when she was teach- | er at Dry Forks school. Then his heart resumed operations and shortly afterwards she lisped a hap- py Yes. ——The legislature of this State pass- ed bills appropriating $23,182,000 for the next two years. The estimated re. ceipts are only $19,000,000. Now Gov- appropriations about four millions. "wood will do. St. Helena to Paris. | The Removal of Napoleon's Body—Impressive Ceremonies at thé Church of the Invalides. The grave in the valley of Napoleon, on St. Helens, as the place had come to be called, was surrounded by an iron railing set in a heavy stone curb. Over the grave was a covering of 6 inch stone which admitted to a vault 11 feet deep, 8 feet long and 4 feet 8 inches broad and was apparently filled with earth, but digging down some seven feet a layer of Roman cement was found. This brok- en laid bare a layer of rough hewn stone 10 inches thick and fastened together by iron clamps. It took 4} ou to re- move this layer. The stope up, the slab forming the lid of the interior sar- cophagus was cxposed, inclosed in a border of Roman cement strongly at- tached to the walls of the vault. So stoutly had all these various coverings ibeen sealed with cement and bound by iron bands that it took the large party of workers ten hours to reach the coffin. “The outermosteoffin was slightly in- jured,” says an eyewitness. ‘Then came one of lead, which was in good condition and inclosed two others—one of tin and one of wood. The last coffin was lined inside with whitesatin,which, having become detached by the effect of time, had fallen upon the body and en- veloped it like a winding sheet and had become slightly attached to it. “Tt is difficult to describe with what anxiety and emotion those who were present waited for the moment which was to expose to them all that was left of the Emperor Napoleon. Notwith- standing the singular 4tate of preserva- tion of the tomb a we could scarcely hope to find Anything but some misshapen remains ¢f the least perish- able part of the costume to evidence the identity of the body. But when Dr. Guillard raised the sheet of satin, an in- describable feeling of surprise and affec- tion was expressed by the spectators, many of whom burst into tears. The emperor himself was before their eyes. The features of the face, though i ed, were perfectly recognized ; the hands extremely beautiful ; his well known costume had suffered but little, and the colors were easily distinguished. The attitude itself was full of ease, and but for the fragments of satin lining which covered, as with fine gauze, several parts of the uniform, we might have believ- ed we still saw Napoleon lying on his bed of state.” * * * * The climax of the pageant in Paris was the temple of the Invalides, The spacious church was draped in the most magnificent and lavish fashion and adorned with a perfect bewilderment of imperial emblems. The light was shut out by hangings of violet velvet; tri- pods blazing with colored flames, and thousands upon thousands of waxen candles in brilliant candelabra lighted the temple. Under the dome, in the place of the altar, stood the catafalque which was to receive the coffin. It was 3 o'clock in the afternoon when the archbishop ot Paris, preceded by a splendid cross bearer, and followed by 16 incense boys and long rows of white clad priests, left the church to meet the rocession. They returned soon. Fol- owing them was the Prince de Join- rand apo- leon’s coffin. The king descended from his throne and. advanced to meet the cortege. ‘Sire,’ said the Prince de Joinville, “I present to you the body of Napoleon, which, in accordance with your com- mands, I have brought back to France.” “J receive it in the name of France,” replied Louis Philippe. Such at least is what the ‘Moniteur’’ affirms was said. The Prince de Join- ville gives a different version: Itap- pears that a little speech which I was to" have delivered when I met my father, and also the answer he was to give me, had been drawn up in council, only the authorities nad omitted to inform me concerning it. So when I arrived I simply saluted with my sword, and then stood aside. I saw indeed that this sil- ent salute, followed by retreat, had thrown something out, but my father, after a moment’s hesitation, improvised some appropriate sentence, and the mat- ter was afterward arranged in the ‘Moni- teur.’ ”’ . Beside the king stood an officer, bear- ing a cushion. On it lay the sword of Austerlitz. Marshal Soult handed it to the king, who, turning to Bertrand, said : “General, I commission you to place the emperor's glorious sword on the bier.” And Bertrand, trembling with emo- tion, laid the sword reverently on his idol’s coffin. The great audience watch- ed the scene in deepest silence. The only sound which broke thestillness was the half stifled sobs of the gray haired soldiers of the Invalides, who stood in places of honor near the catafalque. The king and the procession returned to their Talsess and then followed a majestic funeral mass. : In their midst The Trade in Sawdust. In New York city there are about 600 venders of sawdust, having a capi- tal of $200.000 invested and doing a business of $2,000,000 annually. Forty years ago the mills were glad to have the sawdust carted away ; twenty-five years ago it could be bought for fifty cents a load ; now it brings $3.50 & lead at the mills. 1t is used in hotels, eating-houses, groceries and other business places. It is wet and spread over floors in order to make the sweeping cleaner work. Plumbers use it a great deal about pipes and buildings to deaden the walls and floors. Soda water men and packers of glass and small articles of every kind use it and dolls are stuffed with it. Yellow pine makes the best saw dust, us it is the least dusty and has a pur- gent, healthy smell. But any light' Black walnut sawdust | will not sell, and is burned. 3 | ——Sunday ball playing has been | stopped in Toledo, Ohio. For many , years the ball game has been a regular | Sunday amusement there. The move | is a commendable one, and the ball club | _ernor Hastings hasa problem in arith- | will be all the more successful on ac-| I ’ "metic to solve in subtraciics from the count of the abandonment of the Sun- claim. Herr Meyerstein used to give day game. / In the Garden of China. BY JULIAN RALPH. There are many Chinas, or many kinds of China, but the only one I ex- pected to find was the ome I did not see. It was an idezl I had been form- ing all along the years between my first geography and my latest pur- chased book—of a country peopled by | men wearing broad-brimmed, cone- shaped hats, and carrying boxes of tea on each end of the bamboo poles they balanced on one shoulder. That sort of man I saw once or twice among the millions I met, but the whole combi- nation I missed altogether. My Chi- na has its gentry, its merchants, its working-men, and its farmers—not to speak of beggars, actors, priests, con- jurers and sailors. We found its mer- chant class polite, patient, extremely shrewd, well-dressed, pattern shop- keepers. We found its gentlemen graceful, polished, generous and amia- ble. But the peasantry constantly re- minded us of the country tolk of conti- ental Europe outside of Russia/ Theirs was the same simplicity of cos- tume, intelligence and manners. They lived in very much the same lit- tle villages of thatched cottages. Theirs was the same awkwardness, shyness, cunning in trade, the same | distrust of strange things, The sharp- est fracture of the comparison was seen in the €hinese farms; for, where we were, every handful of earth was al- most Ii ly passed through the hands of its cultivators, every leaf was inspeéted, every inch was watered, manured, watched, and cared for as a retired Englishman looks after his back gard The result was a fertili- ty beyond compare, a glory of vegeta- tion, a universality of cultivation that permitted no waste places. It was a system that always included the prepa- ration of a second growth to be trans- planted into the place of the main growth when the first reached its har- vest. As compared with Japan, one feature of every view was strikingly in favor of the larger country. The dress and behavior ot the Chinese will not offend Europeans. The women of central China are not merely most modest, they are as completely dressed as any women I have ever seen. They are covered from neck tc heels in a costume composed of a jacket and trousers. As Mr. Weldon eays: “Their complete freedom of move- ment is calculated to produce the most perfect nation, physically. Itis God's providence that this menace to the safety of the world is offset bv their innutritious food and their fond- ness for the crippling of women’s feet.” In Japan nakedness is’ what startles the newcomer on all gides. In China “the altogether” that Trilby posed for is a product that I saw only in the cases of less than half a dozen children. I am told that in the country one sees women half bared above the waist when the sun shines ‘tropically, bat I cannot prove that. I saw one farmer girl with only her padlike frontlet of cotton on above her trousers, but I cannot announce a national custom up- on that slender basis.