Democratic watchman. (Bellefonte, Pa.) 1855-1940, August 07, 1896, Image 2

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    AYN eon.
Bellefonte, Pa., Aug. 7, 1896.
Oh, the rock-a-by chair is a jolly old ship,
And grandma’s captain and crew,
And she sings a nice song as we start on our trip,
Though I never have heard it quite through ;
But it’s all about islands and rivers and things.
And the treasures and dream-people there,
_ And this is the song that my grandmamMa sings
In the wonderful rock-a-by chair ;
“Oh, a beautiful stream i= the river of sleep,
And it flows through the Kingdom of Nod ;
And its current is broad aud its channel is dcp,
And its shores are so fair and so placid its iweep,
And it flows from the footstool of God,
From the fountains and footstool of God. *
‘“There’s a marvelous isle up that river so fair
Where a glow of eternity gleams ;
And our hopes and our yearnings are realized
And freedom from sorrow, and surcease of care,
In the beautiful island of dreams,
In the misty mid-island of dreams.
“Oh, the faces so fair in that far-away isle,
And the treasures that never shall rust ;
There are glimpses and gleams of the sweet after-
And the touch and the kiss and the vanishing
Of lips that have crumbled to dust,
Of lips that have fallen to dust.”
And this is her song, but I don’t know the rest
As I never have heard it quite all :
For I euddle down close to my grandmamma’s
And my eyelids grow heavy and fali;
But I know that she sings about Heaven and
God, :
And the angels and everything there,
As we journey away to the Kingdom of Nod,
In the wonderful rock-a-by chair.
—dAlbert B. Paine, in N. Y. Independent.
A story, girls, said grand-ma smilingly.
‘Why, I’ve never had anything happen to
me that could make a story—except one.
And I'm almost afraid to tell you that
‘Oh, that sounds charming,’’ exclaimed
Irene. ‘“We’ll have that if we have to
coax for a week.” .
Grandma was silent for several minutes
while we chatted and coaxed her. At last
she gave away and began :
‘Years ago when I was a girl things
were so different from our way of living
now that I fear my story will seem improb-
able to you. Ilived in a small. western
town, where my father had a tract of land al-
most as large as this entire village. It wasa
lonely place for young people, but frequent
visits to school friends and return visit
from them relieved the dreariness somewhat.
‘We had plenty of riding, however, as-%vell
as an occasional dance. We really had lit-
tle time to mope.
‘Still it was a sad change when my sis-
ter married and went to live 110 miles
away. It seemed as remote as if she had
crossed the ocean, but the glorious antici-
pation of visiting her kept me in a fever cf
excitement for a whole year. During this
tithe I had met Paul Foster (your grand-
father) and became engaged to him, and it
was arranged that he should accompany
my father and myself on the journey.
‘‘Stage coaches were the only convey-
ances then, but there was an enchantment
about travel then that no amount of luxury
in a palace car can equal now.
‘‘The drive was glorious. Ori some parts
of the road I sat on the top of the stage ;
but when I was tired or the road rougher
than usual, crept inside. Sometimes we
would walk while the horses rested of fol-
lowed slowly. Toward evening we reached
some tavern and remained all night—glad
by that time of the exchange, but just as
eager to start again the next morning.
‘The second days just as we were start-
ing, a young man came up and hurriedly
whispered to Silas, the driver. I remem-
ber still my lively curiosity as to what it
was all about, when I saw Silas lean for-
avard and draw two large fierce looking re-
volvers. He examined them carefully,
meanwhile holding the lines a peculiar
way, partly between the knees with the
ends turned about his arm.
“I found out the meaning of the whis-
per and the pistols, too, early in the after-
noon, we entered a narrow pass between
the hills. By this time I was cowering in-
side the coach, though I could see without
wanting to, the rugged mountains, the
steep cliffs, the narrow roadway along
which Silas peered carefully, but that even
he was taken by surprise when half a doz-
en men suddenly sprang up, apparently
from nowhere. I cannot express the rapid-
ity with which the whole thing was done.
Two stood at the horses’ heads, two quick-
ly disarmed the driver and the men on top
of the coach, while two others at the same
instant threw open the door and ordered us
to step out. Two elderly ladies, a middle
aged one, an old gentleman and myself
obeyed as quickly as we could, I assure
you. I trembled so that I could hardly
stand and was almost falling, when sudden-
ly one of the highwaymen pushed the other
out of the way, exclaiming : ‘A Hebe, by
Jove’—and with saech a bow as few had
ever given me, took my hand and helped
“me down.
‘To tell the truth, I know very little of
what took place around me after that. I
saw my highwayman give orders to his
men ; then he turned to me and in the
most gentlemanly manner begged me to
walk with him. I dared not refuse, and
we paced back and forth till I felt as if I
shonld faint. He talked of the scenery,
the mountain air and other matters, but of
his purpose there and of the operations of
his companions—he kept himself carefully
between me and them—he said nota word.
‘It was at a moment when I felt I could
endure no more that I caught sight of
Paul’s face. All the men had their hands
tied behind them were standing in a row,
looking into revolvers of their captors, who
relieved them of everything of value.
There stood your grandfather with such a
glare of helpless indignation at poor me
that it was more than'I could stand, and
with a sense of the rediculous that was
more than half hysterical, I broke into such
peals of laughter that the mountains
echoed. I could not help it. I laughed
and laughed till the tears ran down my
cheeks, and my escort at last joined me,
while he whispered something so flattering
that my poor Paul would have died out-
right if he could have heard.
‘Finally my highwayman placed ine in
the coach again, with a whispered request
for some remembrance—a ring or anything.
As he had it in his power to take rings
and everything else, I slipped off a
turquoise and gave it to him. He
placed it on his third finger ahove a
diamond, and, as the diamond flashed, I
saw a tiny cross cut into its surface. I was
not searched ; and with a courtly bow, my
knight of the road and his companions van-
ished as suddenly as they had come.
‘One month later I was almost worn out
with the entertainments furnished by my
sister in her efforts to makesny visit pleas-
ant. There was to be one more dance,
probably the last, as we were to start
homeward the first of the following week.
Paul had been visiting relatives and had
just returned in time to take part.-
‘‘As the wagons drove up to the door of
the inn where the dance was to be held I
heard a young lady, a friend of my sister’s
call out ;
‘‘ ‘Why, where has Mr. Meredith gone ?’
But I thought nothing about it then.
‘The dancing had been going on for only
a short time when this young lady came up
to me and with tones suggestive of vexa-
tion or pique, said :
¢“ ‘Mr. Meredith wishes to be introduced
to you.
“Mr. Meredith then asked me to dance
with him, and not once, but many times
we danced together—he was an admirable
dancer. Yet I could hardly hear what he
said, so perplexed was I, wondering where
I could have heard his voice before. But
at length, as he extended his hand, I
glanced down, and saw a small cross cut on
the diamond of his ring.
“My dears, I almost fainted outright.
But to the end he acted the part of a gen-
tlenlan. He led me to the window and
stood talking while he shielded my agita-
tion from the room now filled with whirl-
ing couples.
*‘Nothing was said for several minutes.
In my foolish heart I was trying to think
of some romantic reason that would account
for his mode of life, His face, from which
the beard and mustache were gone, looked
like that of some boyish Sir Galahad, not
like that of a crimenal. His kindly brown
eyes shown upon me with a world of laugh-
ter in them.
* ‘Well he said smilingly. At the same
moment I caught sight of Paul in the door-
way talking to a man whom I did not
know, and with earnest gestures pointing
to my partner. Paul, too, had recognized
‘‘Though:my heart was beating so hard
that I could not speak, I motioned to Mr.
Meredith to finish the dance, and when we
reached the side nearest the opposite door I
‘ ‘Bend down your head,” I whispered
‘‘ ‘Some one has recognized you. I saw
them. You must go.” My voice trembled
I am sure.
‘“‘Must ?” he said slowly, still smiling.
then he frowned.
back instantly, and he glanced at me as I
Stood pale and trembling. ‘Poor “little
girl,” he said: ‘So divided between a sense
of duty and pity for a poor wretch like me.
Come—a bargain, child ! One more dance
all around the room and back here, and I
will go.’
‘“ ‘You ought to go now,’ I faltered.
‘‘ ‘Not until we finish this dance,” he
said firmly.
‘‘He supported me almost entirely as we
whirled me around the room, or I believe
that I should have slipped on the floor.
‘“‘Now, go!” I whispered in perfect
terror. .
‘“ ‘Goodby !" he said earnestly. ‘I shall
never forget you. Think of me as kindly
as you can.’
‘‘He had vanished in the darkness, and
none too soon. A few minutes later the
sheriff and two of his men appeared fully
armed, but Mr. Meredith was nowhere to
be found—nor did any one ever discover
how he had escaped.’’
Grandmother sighed softly.
‘I have always been glad to know that
he escaped,’’ she added.
“Is that all?” :
‘Yes, except that after the notice of my
marriage had been inserted in the papers,
I received an express package containing a
diamond ring, with a cross cut in its sur-
The girls were silent a few moments, and
then began with exclamations of delight at
the story, romantic beyond anything they
had expected. Then said saucy Irene, with
a twinkle in her eyes :
‘‘Grandmother, darling, I'll wager any-
thing that you never told grandfather all
of this story.,’
The pink blush spread over grand-moth-
er’s face, but the dear old soul would not
lie even to point a moral.
‘‘No, my dear girls,” she said, slowly,
‘it was very wrong, no doubt, but—I nev-
er did.”
Poor Men’s Bank Deposits.
One of the most distressing maladies
which has ever afflicted the rich men of
this country, is now raging with awful
fury and threatens them with annihilation.
The disease affects the heart and is brought
on by excessive worry over the fact that
the ‘10,000,000’ laboring men of this
country, who have ‘‘81,810,000,000 de-
posited in banks in this country, would if
free silver should win, he compelled to ac-
cept ‘‘cheap 50 cent silver dollars’’ when
they want to draw out their money.
When we remember that $1,800,000
will cover the money of all kinds author-
ized by the government and that $300,0008-
000 or more of our gold coin is in Europe,
we are amazed at the grasping disposition
of the apparently heartless ten millions of
laboring men, who have grabbed up every
dollar in the country and Rockafeller,
Morgan, Belmont and Seligman were left
without a penny to buy fire crackers with
on July 4th, 1896! These bloated de-
positors must be looked after. Strange, is
it not, that Cleveland did not sell his gov-
ernment bond issues to these rich laborers,
who don’t go to Europe and spend, in the
aggregate, $100,000,000 a year, like the
poor, pinched Depews, Goulds, Vander-
bilts, Whitneys and Belmontsdo! These
rich laborers should be put down. The
fact that the poor, poverty stricken banks
have nearly five billion dollars loaned out
and have but a trifle over six hundred mil-
lion dollars with which to pay depositors,
exhibits the Deg our financial system.
But the bankers undismayed. They
have no anxiety for themselves. Their
hearts bleed for the poor laborer, and pal-
pitates over the tarnished honor of their
good name, lest they should be forced to
pay out ‘‘debased silver currency” over
their counters in liquidation of their hon-
est debts.
of their gold and bonds. A forty cent
dollar was rich enough for the man who |
risked his life, or died for his country and
for the widows and orphans of the slain,
but they wanted a 200 or 300 cent dollar
for their unpatriotic services of selling their
gold to pay duties on imports and for
manipulating Congress, and securing legis-
lation to rob and enslave a free people.
The man who says that the government
of the United States puts its stamp upon a
*‘debased, rotten, cheap silver dollar,”
which is worth only 50 cents, is hoth a liar
and a traitor.— Liberty.
-~——Subseribe for the WATCHMAN.
But the smile came-
During the war they were en- |
ed in destroying the greenback, which !
paid the soldier, and in enhancing the value
Somebody to Blame.
But Who, is Just Now the Question of Importance.
Terrible Railroad, Wrech.—Forty-nine People Killed
and that as many Seriously Injured Near Atlantic
City.—An Operator Under Arrest.—According to the
Engineer of the West Jersey Train the Lights were
all Right and Therefore He Plunged Ahead to the
Disaster.—A Locomotive Boiler Exploded.
A terrible railroad catastrophe took
place on the meadows about two
miles out of Atlantic City last
Thursday evening, resulting in the
deaths of forty-nine people so far as now
can be learned, and the wounding of forty-
three others. A train left there consisting of
seven cars over the West Jersey railroad
bearing a special excursion of Red Men and
their friends, of Bridgeton and Salem, N.
J., and -had reached the crossing of the
Reading railroad when it was struck by
the down express, demolishing two cars
and telescoping the two following.
The engine of the Reading train became
a total wreck, killing the engineer and
fatally injuring the fireman, and the car
behind it also was thrown from the track
and many of its occupants killed or injur-
ed. The responsibility of the collision has
not been placed, but William Thurlow,
the operator at the block tower situated at
the crossing, has been placed under arrest
by order of the coroner.
On leaving the city, the tracks of the
West Jersey road run parallel to those of
the Camden and Atlantic until after they
cross the drawbridge, when they switch off
to the south crossing the Reading road at
an obtuse angel. John Greiner, the engi-
neer of the West Jersey train, saw the
Reading train approaching the “crossing at
a swift speed but as the signals were open
for him to proceed on his way, he con-
tinued. His engine had barely cleared the
track of the Reading when the locomotive
of the latter train, which, left Philadel-
phia at 5:40 p. m., struck the first car in
full in the centre, throwing it off the track
into a nearby ditch and completely sub-
merging it. The second car of the West
Jersey train was also carried into the ditch,
the third and fourth cars being telescoped.
The engine of the Reading train was
thrown to the other side of the track, car-
rying with it the first coach. A few min-
utes after the collision, to add to the horror
of the situation, the boiler of the Reading
locomotive exploded, scalding several to
death and casting its boiling spray over
many of the injured passengers. As soon
as the news reached Atlantic city it spread
widecast and thousands of people flocked
to the scene. The road leading to the
place of the collision was a constant proces-
sion of hacks, busses and bicycles and all
kinds of vehicles, while thousands of
pedestrians hurried along the path to ren-
der what assistance they could or to satisfy
their curiosity.
Darkness fell quickly and the work of
rescuing the injured and dead bodies was
carried out under the lurid glare of huge
bonfires. It was a gruesome Sight - pre-
sented to on-lookers as the mangled and
burnt forms of the dead were carried from
the wreckage which bound them and laid
side by side on the gravel bank near the
track, with no other pall than the few odd
newspapers gathered from the passengers.
The wounded people were quickly gather-
ed together and carried by train and wagon
to the Atlantic City hospital, where six of
them died shortly after their arrival. The
old excursion house at the foot of Miss-
issippi avenue was converted into a morgue
and the dead were taken there. The
city is terribly excited over the
arcident. The streets in the vi-
cinity of the excursion house and the
city hospital ; as well as the road leading
to the scene of the accident, were packed
with people anxious to learn the latest.
The Bridgeton and Salem excursionists
who escaped injury were sent home on a
special train a few hours later.
The centre of interest to-day was the im-
provised morgue, and a strange spectacle for
this city of proverbial gayety was the contin-
ual procession of undertakers’ wagons bowl-
ing along Atlantic avenmne, the principal
thoroughfare, carrying bodies to that place
and later to the Pennsylvania Railroad
station. Inside the morgue tragic scenes
were being enacted throughout the day.
A few incidents there will suffice to pict-
ure the general happenings of the dreadful
task of identification. A young man
named Morris Peters, with his father, Jos-
eph, was on the excursion from Bridgeton.
Both were killed. This morning the
mother and daughter came down to look
for their loved ones.
When they found them the scene was so
ineffably pitiful that every beating heart in
the gloomy place throbbed with grief and
pain. The body of the youth was reached
first. Both women stared at the lifeless
form for a moment silently, then the pent-
up rivers of the eye found vent, and they
sank down sobbing wildly. The attend-
ants tenderly asked them to come to the
body of the father, but with all the little
strength left to them the women refused.
It was necessary to the work of identifica-
tion, however, and the shuddering women
were led to the other corpse. This was the
last straw. The women collapsed entirely,
and it was necessary to have them borne
from the place and taken away in a carriage.
Such scenes as this continued-all day. A
father looking for a little child ; mothers
in search of their loved ones ; stalwart but
broken-hearted men, hoping, yet fearing to
find their wives, and so on to the end, piec-
turing the direst woe that can befall human
creatures. The place itself was incon-
gruously dotted with color. Daintily be-
flowered millinery, gaudy shawls, parasols,
boxes of candy lay about everywhere, and
worst of all colors—that of blood was
splashed about almost everywhere.
Scenes of a like character were occur-
ring at the same time at the Sanitarium,
where the injured lie and where several
died to-day. Almost every incoming train
| brought crowds or grief-stricken relatives
and friends, and as darkness came on it is
safe to assert that it found answering dark-
ness in the hearts of many thousands here,
where all is meant to be light, life and
Indentifying the Dead.
There never was a scene of sadness in
Atlantic City or probably in the State of
New Jersey to equal that presented at the
Reading railroad excursion house to-day.
! This home of the merry-makers was trans-
formed into a gloomy house of death, and
' along the floor were the hodies of two score
rand more excursionists who, but a few
| hours before, were among the gayiest of the
| gay.
{By nine o'clock Friday morning there
| were exactly 44 bodies taken to the Excur-
| sion house, and as soon as they arrived
| they were put on ice in crude boxes. They
| were made as presentable as their mutilat-
ed hodies would permit and then arranged
| in two long rows down either side of the
| room. On the north side were the men
i and boys, while on the south were the
| women and girls.
Meanwhile a crowd of anxious relatives
and friends of the dead, injured or missing
had assembled about the Excursion house
and sought to gain admitance. A squad of
police guarded the door and only a half
dozen at a time were admitted. The
searchers were met by those in charge, who
asked whether they were looking for a man
woman, hoy or girl. Upon receiving a re-
ply they would begin at the first coffin and
go long until the last was reached, raising
the lids and displaying the distorted and
torn bodies of the dead.
At the Gate.
“Good night, Lem.”
‘What's your rush, Jennie 2”
“What do I want to stand out here
for ?”’
‘‘Ain’t I here ?*
“Oh, dear me !
Good night.”
‘“‘Pshaw ! Now, Jennie, I''—
“Let go my hand.”
‘1 won’t.”?
“I'll seream for pa if you don’t.”
‘yes, you will.’’
“I will, Lem.”
‘‘Let’s hear you.”’
‘Lem, you are the hatefullest thing !’’
“Aw : you don’t say !”’ Sr
“If you don’t let go my hand I’ll—
“You'll do what 2”?
“You want me to slap you ?”’
‘Oh, oh !”
“I will, Lem ! D’ll slap you real hard!”
“Wish you would. Then I’d ‘kiss you
six instead of four times, as I m going to
“Yes, you just try to kiss me once.”
“Well, I will—there !”’
‘0-0-0-h, you Lem Bragg !”’
‘And there !” 7
‘‘Sha-a-ame on you !”’
‘‘And there !”?
‘Lem Bragg, if you don’t stop that I’11”’
‘That was three !
foar 1?
Oh, you're just too awful for anything!
You’re just as mean ! If I should call pa
“Why don’t you call him, then 2”
“I will if you don’t hehave yourself,
Good night.” ”
‘Come, now, don’t be snatched.’
“I’m not going to stay out here another
second. V
‘‘Ain’t, huh ?”’
‘No, I'm not.”
“Daring me to kiss you again, I reck-
on 2?
‘‘You just try it.”’
‘All right, here goes.”
‘‘Now for another.”
“Lem Bragg, I'll never speak to you
again while I live ! Good night.”
“Now, there’s no rush, Jennie.” And
there didn’t seem to be, for two hours la-
ter they were still there, and there was no
‘What an attraction’’
Now here’s number
sation.— World.
Free Silver Dialogue.
Heard by a Correspondent on the Streets of Philm
ipsburg. -
Mr. Editor : If an observer had been presi
ent on a recent evening he might have
heard a dialogue, which if carried to a logi-
cal conclusion, would have run about as
follows :
“For 850 I can buy enough silver bul-
lion to make 100 coined dollars.’” _‘‘where
can you buy the bullion?” ‘In New
York.” “When ?”? “Now.” “And
when you get it where will you go to have
it made into dollars?’ ‘To the mint.’
‘When?’ ‘‘Now.’”” “Do you not know
that our mints quit making the silver bul-
lion of individuals into silver dollars in
1873, and that every silver dollar made
since that date was made from silver pur-
chased by the government? If you buy
the bullion now and keep it till we get free
coinage of silver restored you may make
the spec you boast of. Do you want to
buy now ?”’ - “No, we’ll never get free sil-
ver.”’ “Then you’ll never make your
spec.” “If we get free silver you can buy
the bullion then.’”” “Where?” ‘‘From any
one that has it.”” ‘‘At what price?”
‘Market price, about fifty cents or less on
the dollar.” “Do you think anybody
would be green enough to give you his bul-
lion for half price when he can take it to
the mint and get it coined into as many dol-
lars as you can?’ ‘‘Well, that’s what the
papers say, but it does look kind o’ queer.”
You read only one kind o’ papers, that’s
what’s the matter.”” ~‘‘May be. ’
Lore of Colors.
White is the emblem of light, religious
purity, innocence, faith, joy and life. In
the Judge it indicates integrity ; in the
sick, humility ; in the woman, chastity.
Red, the ruby, signifies fire, divine love
and royalty. White and red roses express
love and wisdom. Blue, or the sapphire,
expresses heaven, the firmament truth from
a celestial origin, constancy and fidelity.
Yellow or gold, is the sympol of the sun,
of marriage and faithfulness. Green the
emerald is the color of spring, of hope—
particularly of the hope of immortality
and of victory, as the color of the laurel
and the palm. Violet, the amethyst, sig-
nifies love and truth, or passion and suffer-
ing. Purple and scarlet signifies things
good and true from a celestial origin.
Black corresponds to despair, darkness,
earthliness, mourning, negation, wicked-
ness and death.
——The London newspapers it seems
have been roused to frenzy of anger by the
action of the Democratic party in favor of
the free coinage of silver. The London
Times denounces every one who supports
Bryan as dishonest, and says no honest
man can vote for silver. These papers de-
nounce Democrats as anarchists, socialists.
and repudiators. And why all this anger ?
Simply because Democrats of the United
States want silver put back where it was
before 1873. That act of congress of 1873
doubled the value of all American gold
bonds held in England and has made a
gold dollar worth almost double what it
was in 1872. This is why the English
newspapers are denouncing the Demo-
crats in such unmeasured terms.
—— ‘The issue is drawn, and we have
our choice in this campaign between the
American financial system for the Ameri-
can people and an English financial system
to be forced upon us. Those who believe in
running this government on the Eurapéan
plan should go and legislate with the Re-
publican party. If I mistake not the pa-
triotism of the people, whose patriotism
has never been appealed to in vain, there
can be but one issue in this campaign and
but one result.— William J. Bryan in his
speech to his old neighbors in "Illinois last
week. -
——We are told that there is more mon-
ey in the country now than there ever was.
i Perhaps there is but the farmers are not
| getting very much of it.
falling off in the brilliancy of their conver- |
J. B. G. Kinsloe.
The Veteran Editor and Well Known Citizen of Lock
Haven, Dead.
After many months of suffering J. B. G.
Kinsloe, the veteran editor and greatly re-
spected citizen, of Lock Haven is dead.
The first symptoms of Mr. Kinsloe’s illness
were noticeable in 1894 when he became a
victim of asthma, which disease afterwards
became complicated with other ailments.
Since December, 1894, he has been unable
to perform any office labor. although once
or twice since then he improved sufficiently
as to permit of his going out on the side-
walk in his chair. About a week agoa
change for the worse was visible, and he
steadily grew weaker until he breathed his
last Thursday afternoon,
Mr. Kinsloe’s life was an active one, as
will be learned from the following sketch,
which was pregared by J. F. Meginness
the historian. :
‘Mr. Kinsloe, one of the oldest printers,
editors and publishers in the state, was
born near Mexico, Mifilin county, Pa.,
(now Juniata,) April 5th, 1820. In the
spring of 1827 his parents removed to Lew-
istown, the county seat, and on the even-
ing of their arrival young Kinsloe made
the acquaintance of Levi Reynolds, editor
and proprietor of the Mifflin Eagle, and
was a daily visitor to the office, spending
his leisure hours in acquiring a knowledge
of the ‘art preservation,” until in 1834,
when he became a journeyman printer, at
$16 per month, in the office of the Lewis-
town Gazette. During the administration
of Joseph Ritner, Mr. Kinsloe served as
clerk in the prothonotary’s office under
William Brothers. In 1838, in company
with his eldest brother, W. A. Kinsloe, he
published the Eugle, afterwards called the
Clintonian, in Lock Haven. At the close
of the memorable campaign of 1840, the pa-
per was suspended, when Robert MecCor-
guick and the subject of this sketch soon
after renewed it under the name of Clinton
County Whig . In 1841, he purchased an
office in Mifflintown, and removed it to
Thompsontown, where he became the pub-
lisher of the Juniata Free Press, and a
monthly journal called the Zemperance
Agent. In 1842, he removed the office to
Shippensburg, Pa., where, in connection
with his brother, he commenced the publi-
i cation of The Cumberland Valicy, also con-
| tinuing the Temperance Agent at the same
| point. Afterwards we find him in Phila-
| delphia during the exciting times of the
! native American riots, and up to 1846, in
| the office of the Daily Spirit of the Times, as
| foreman and night clerk. During 1249 and
| and ’50 he was in the employ of L. John-
| son & Co., the oldest type founders in
| America, as general jobber, engaged in get-
| ting up their magnificent specimen book.
| In that establishment he acquired much
| fine printing. Soon after this he received
‘a “‘call” to Knoxville, Teun., where he re-
| moved, in 1351, and took charge of the
| Presbyterian Witness, with Rev. A. Black-
| burn as editor. 7%he Knoxville Register was
put up at public sale in a few years after
his removal to the place, and he purchased
it. Rev. A. Blackburn's interest was sold
to W. A. Kinsloe, and uifdet the firm name
of Kinsloe & Brother the first power - press
was introduced into East Tennessee. In
1854, they purchased Brownlow’s Knox-
ville Whig, retaining Mr. Brownlow as edi-
{ tor. - W. A. Kinsloe remained in Philadel-
phia, while J. B. G. had the entire man-
agement and control of the large establish-
ment, to which he had added a first class
bindery and a monthly medical journal,
edited by Dr. Richard O. Curry. Soon af-
ter W. A. sold his one-half interest to
Charles A. Rice, to whom J. B. G. also
sold in 1859, and shortly after this W. G.
Brownlow purchased it at sheriff’s sale,
and J. B. G. continued with him as busi-
ness manager until the Whig ceased to ex-
ist—when Tennessee was declared out of the
Union-the last paper being printed and sent
out after Brownlow had left the city,
with the hope of stealing through the rebel
lines at Cumberland Gap, or some other
point in the mountains. Mr. Kinsloe re-
mained in Knoxville througnout the fear-
ful struggle, and until six months after
Burnside’s army captured the place. This
occurred about the middle of the afternoon,
and as Kinsloe had purchased a job office
of J. A. Sperry, just before the evacuation
of Knoxville by the rebel forces, he issued
a small daily the next morning. and con-
tinued its publication until the return of
Parson Brownlow, who at once resusciated
the Whig. Mr. Kinsloe then took a po-
sition in the custom house, where he re-
mained until April 14th, 1864, when he re-
turned to Pennsylvania, and purchased a
one-half interest in the West Branch
Bulletin, Williamsport, of P. C. Van Gelder,
ahout the 1st of June, 1864, and in May,
1868, he was elected city clerk of the select
branch of city councils, of Williamsport,
which position he filled acceptably for two
vears, and until that branch discontinued.
In November, 1869, the Bulletin and Ly-
coming Gazette were consolidated, and the
Gazette and Bulletin publishing association
organized, with J. B. G. Kinsloe as busi-
ness manager and treasurer. On the 9th of
September, 1871, he disposed of his stock
in the association, but remained in the of-
fice until the 29th. of February, 1874, per-
forming whatever duties were required of
him. In March following he purchased
the Clinton Republican of George D. Bow-
man.’’ -
Mr. Kinsloe ‘continued publishing the
Republican until recently, when the man-
agement of the journal was assumed by his
The deceased was a member of Trinity
M. E. church, and he served asa member
of the official board in various capacities
for many Years. He was also one of the
trustees of the Normal, he having heen
elected June 14th. 1881, since which time
he remained in continuous service. It was
while he was a trustee that he took occa-
sion to display his kindness of heart by
giving several worthy young people scholar-
ships in that institution.
Mr. Kinsloe is survived by two sons and
a daughter—W. A., Frank and Mis. Lucy
Shaffer. Rev. Samuel Creighton conduct-
ed the funeral services, which was held at
his home in Lock Haven on Saturday, last
at 1:30 o’clock. after whieh the remains
| were taken to Williamsport for interment
in the family lot.
William C. Moreland, ex-City Attorney
of Pittsburg, convicted of having embezzled
city funds to the amount of $26,652.74,
was rentenced to pay a fine equal to
the amount of his defalcation and to un-
dergo imprisionment in the Western Peni-
tentiary for the term of three years. Had
eloquence and personal sympathy heen of
any avail the malefactor would have got
off with a lighter sentence. Itis credit-
able to the admiration of justice in Pitts-
burg that the forces of oratory were una-
vailing and that an adequate though by no
means inordinate penalty has been affixed
other has tended to unsettle confidence in
official integrity and to make harder than
| it ought to be the struggle for good govern-
| ment in all our cities.
| useful knowledge relating to the secret of i
to a species of crime which more than any -
Miss Dorothea Klumpke, a brilliant Lon-
don astronomer, has been invited to accom-
pany the British expedition which proceeds
shortly to Norway in order to observe the
eclipse of the sun. Miss Klumpke, who is
a little over 80 years of age, is a native of
California. She carried off the prize of
5000 francs offered hy the Paris Observa-
tory for a treatise on comets when she was
hardly out of her tecns.
Medium-sized sleeves will no doubt last
out this summer, but no one denies that
the first heavy gowns made will herald the
advent of the very close sleeves. The
woman with balloon-like sleeves already
looks old-fashioned.
A simple but pretty frock is of lawn, and
has the usual flaring skirt, a deep hem,
hand sewed, being the edge finish. The
bodice is made of lawn tucking. alternat-
ing with lace insertion, and the model used
is a fitted blouse. The full sleeves are of
the plain lawn, drawn into cuffs of the
tucking, each cuff coming far down over
the hand in a point that is outlined with a
frill of narrow lace. The collar is a folded
stock of white satin ribbon, with flaring
bows from the back ; a deep point of tuck-
ing overlaps each side of the stock just in
front ; these points have an edge finish
similar to that on the cuffs. The belt is a
folded satin ribbon with a flaring how on
the left side. With this is worn a large
hat of cream white straw trimmed with
gay flowers.
Most women have a horror of turning
gray, feeling that it indicates the encroach-
ment of years. Premature grayness is,
however, very common, and may be at-
tributed to various causes. Sometimes it
is due to an absence of iron in the blood.
It is common among people of anaemic na-
ture, and the fact that the hair suddenly
turns gray through fright has been so posi-
tively proved that there is no doubt of its
occurrence. 3 :
If the hair is turning gray very rapidly,
i and without any apparent cause, it is bet-
| ter to consult a doctor on the subject, as it
{ generally indicates that there is general de-
| bility of health. It may, however, only
| mean that there is a want of local vitality
| and nutrition. The following recipe may
| be safely tried :
[A good lotion may he made with two
| ounces of cocoanut oil, one ounce of hay
| rum, three drahms of nux vomica, and a
| few drops of oil of bergamot ; or for dark
hair may be used as a lotion for preventing
or arresting grayness, two ounces each of
flour of sulphur and spirits of wine, mixed
with an ounce of glycerine and eight
| ounces of rose water.
Miss Mary Abraham, recently appointed
superintendent of factory inspectors in Eng-
land, is a very beautiful woman of the
most refined Jewish type. She was form-
erly private secretary to Lady Dilke.
But the tight glove has gone and its
funeral caused few tears to flow. Now
that we have a large, generous shapely
glove decreed by fashion, we can afford to
spend more time training the hand and
wrist. This training should begin with
the infant. A child should never be per-
mitted to sit with its finger in its mouth.
Such a bad habit ruins the shape of both
fingers and the mouth. Children should
not be allowed to stretch, pound or move
their fingers or joints out of shape. The
habit of “‘cracking the joints” is very bad,
and disfigures a hand for life.
Having brought the little daughter up
to keep the hands neat, soft and white,
she should be kept from scraping the nail
with a pocket-knife or a pair of scissors,
from using acids on the nails and from bit-
ing them. All these things tend to de-
tract from the natural beauty of the hands.
To compensate for the lack of amplitude
the dressmakers are returning to the
trimmed skirt, which affords opportunity
for the display of rich embroideries, passe-
menteries and bands. Sometimes the bot-
| tom of the skirt is cut in points or battle-
ments, which are edged with passementerie.
Beneath is a full ruffle which gives a be-
coming flare to the foot of the skirt.
For the traveling season, the sensation
will be the plaid tailor suit ; not the small
check of which we have heard so much—
more than we have seen—but of the beauti-
fully blended large blue and green plaid,
with here and there a yellow, a white, or
a red line, sufficient to allow of the silk
bodice in the shade most becoming to us,
which we vary with. a black surah. The
bolero for the street will be very short.
For the moment, Parisians are wearing
the short, white pique jacket, cut at the
seams and falling a trifle below the waist,
"over any skirt, gray, blue or ecru, opening
over a white chemisette attached with a
white leather band ; a white straw flat-
brimmed hat trimmed with a white pana-
che of white ostrich or curled heron’s feath-
Fs at the side, a white veil, white sun-
| shade and white gloves. :
The hair is being dressed here much
more compactly. The Botticelli bandeau
and the wavy loose hair surrounding the
knot is giving way to the more correct style
| of hair dressing, possibly in view of the
' small hats we are to wear during the next
few months, which would look too diminu-
tive upon the width of to-day. At the
back the hair is attached by a fancy pin in
every conceivable design in arrows, grey-
hounds, lizards, crutchsticks, even in auto-
mobile carriages, in gold or precious stones
according to the occasion, and in order to
show these pins to advantage the hair is
coiled almost at the summit of the head.
A woman has no natural grace more be-
witching than a sweet laugh. It is like
the sound of flutes on the water. It leaps
from her heart ina clear, sparkling rill,
and the heart that hears it feels as if bathed
in the cool, exhilarating spring. Have you
ever pursued an unseen fugitive through
the trees, led on by her fairy laugh? Now
here, now there—now lost, now found?
Some of us have ; and are still pursuing
that wandering voice. It may come to us,
in the midst of care or sorrow, or irksome
business ; and then we turn away, and list-
en, and hear it ringing through the room
like a silver bell, with power to scare away
the ill spirits of the mind. How much we
owe to that sweet laugh! It turns the
prose of our life into poetry ; it flings show-
ers of sunshine over the darksome wood in
which we are traveling ; it touches with
light even our sleep, which is no more the
image of death, but gemmed with dreams
that are the shadows of immortality.
It is predicted that the loose sack, hang-
ing quite free from the figure, is going to
be much worn later on, perhaps in the fall
and winter, but predictions are not always
fulfilled, and so far there have been no in-
dications that this disagreeable garment
will meet with general approbation even if
| fashion does decree it.