Denorvalic Watcha Bellefonte, Pa., Feb. 9. 1900. THE TRAGEDY OF JOAN POLGARTH. ‘“That’ll teach thee, then,’’ said a brutal voice in a strong Cornish dialect, and the words were followed by a blow, a half- stifled scream from a woman, a fall, and then stillness. A passer-by hearing the words, stopped, heard the blow, the cry, the fall, noticed the silence, and then went on his way again. Down the little village street he met an acquaintance. “Ned Polgarth's a-teaching his wife something with his fist again,’’ he said, jerking his head backwards to indicate the house he had lately passed. “Poor creature,’’ said the other, ‘‘she does have a hard life of it with him.”’ ‘“Who’s that?’ asked a third gossip, joining the other two. ‘Neighbor Trevallin here was saying that Joan Polgarth was getting her hus- band’s hand laid on her this morning as he passed by, and I says it’s a hard life she leads with him.”’ ‘‘Hard, do you call it! It’s my opinion that it there’s a hell upon earth it is at Polgarth’s, and he’s the devil himself for cruelty.” ““A good-looking girl, too, she was be- fore she married him. As Joan Pencoath. there wasn't a girl for miles around but had to yield her the palm for good looks’ **What could she ha’ seen in Polgarth, I wonder, when she had the whole country to pick from?’ ‘‘Ah, that’s it. There must ’a’ been something beind it all that we don’t know of.” “There was that cousin of her’s Ralph Leigh. I thought it was sure to him she’d marry. ‘Ah, to be sure, he did seem a likely one, a fine, cherry young fellow, too.” At this moment Polgarth’s door opened, and Ned Polgarth himself walked out and strolled off toward the mine where he worked. To the superficial observer he was a tall, handsome, good-natured looking man; per- haps a bit rough, and a dangerous man to tackle if provoked, on account of his great height and breadth of shoulder; but far different when one knew him. The good looks still remained, but they were of a coarse, fierce, almost repellent kind; the rough, good-nature vanished entirely and gave place to a surly brutal-tempered mo- roseness; whilst his passion once roused was frightful to behold and dangerous te withstand. In the mine he was hated, but his strength made him so feared that the hate was kept out of sight. In the village he was hated, feared, and dispised as that greatest of all cowards, a wife-beater. And miners and villagers alike gave bare civility and nothing else. Yet, well knowing all this, he bad that morning struck his wife a cruel blow, because she, poor soul had tried to feign ignorance of the fact that he was thus avoided. And now she sat in their little back room, her elbows on the table, from which the breakfast things had not been cleared, her face resting on her hands, staring with fixed eyes at the fire-place, the hot glow of out-raged womanhood burning on her cheeks. She had sat like that ever since her hus- band had gone out, only that the look in her eyes had grown harder as the time wore on. What had she done, she asked herself, that such treatment should be meted out to her? Was she not an obedient wife, a careful manager, and would she not have hem a loving helpmate if he had only let her? She saw herself again a pretty, light- hearted girl, with the lads for miles around anxiously seeking a favor from her as she cast her glances upon all of them, and seemed to smile upon none more than an- other. There were so many she had forgotten the greater number, but as her mind ran over a few of their names, she wondered how they, if they were married, treated their wives. Harry Penberthy she knew was a loving husband, and him she bad secretly laughed at when he asked her to marry him. George Davies she had seen but yester- day with his little child crowing merrily in his arms, and looking at him so confidingly that she knew he must be a good man. Ralph Leigh! Her small hands tightened and her face wore an expression of bitter, tormenting pain. She had loved him dearly, passionately, until he jilted her, or she believed he had, when in a moment of pique she had accepted Edward Polgarth. Her face clouded over again, and the look in her eyes became harder. To think that Ralph never loved any one but her, and even now was single for her sake, prospering in the world, though he was! What a different existence to the one she was now living might have been hers! Certainly Ned Polgarth would make two Ralph Leighs, and was handsomer, and had been a more devoted lover; besides, she had been very fond of him, thinking she loved him and determined she would make him a good wife. And had she not? She knew she could truthfully say, and her husband could not deny it, that she had given him all the love she couid, had cared for him, and bad done her duty well and brightly; in return receiving—what? A gradual dropping on his part of the lover-like ways; a rough, nay course, man- ner of speaking, grumbling at the food, though she was known to he one of the best cooks and housewives in the district; then when she remonstrated with him, oaths and curses; finally—though she had striven to keep her own temper and do all she could not to provoke his—a blow! Should she ever forget it? The flush on her cheeks showed how deeply that first blow had stuck—had struck not merely her face, but her heart. He had made a clumsy attempt at an apology when he saw the mark of his blow, and she met him before he was half through with it, and with loving, tender words bade him think no more of the matter; it had been greatly her fault, and they must forgive one another and try to live better aud happier lives. She hoped after that he would be kinder; but, alas! it was not to be. A few days later his temper mastered him, and he would have struck her a second time but for the opportune entry of a neighbor. And now of late he had grown worse, and to his other vices was adding that of a drunkard; several times lately he had come with unsteady step from the village inn; and she had grown to fear him more than ever when he was in that state, for he thought little of striking any one then. The previous night he had come home worse than he ever had been before; she had said nothing, had giver him his sup- per, and awaited his going to bed patient- ly, so as not to irritate him. One thought only passed through her aching head, fast discoloring where his heavy clinched fist had struck her—he had killed her love, for which she hated him, and she was fast bound up to him for- ever. Angry because one of the neighbors had refused to drink with him, he had wrecked his vengeance on the poor girl he had sworn to love aud cherish. She had, with loving words, tried to evade his questions as to whether she knew the reason that people avoided him; but he, his sense of honor completely gone, cried out, as he struck her with almost all his force just above the eyes, which he once had sworn were the most beautiful in the world: “That’ll teach thee, then,”” and as she fell headlong to the ground he coolly sat down and began his breakfast, leaving her to get up as best she could. She had staggered to her feet, half stunned by the blow, and groped her way to a chair, from which she never stirred all the time he was there. He finished his meal, and taking his hat, strode from the house without a word, and she continued to sit in just the same atti- tude until now. Presently her head, paining so acutely, forced her to get some water to bathe it with, after which she began slowly to tidy up the room; but with never a variation in the hardness which seemed to have come over her face. Thus an hour or more passed, and she never noticed a commotion that took place down in the village, but kept on, her mind racked with anguish on account of her un- happiness with the man to whom she was bound, and whom she loathed. Another hour passed, and another, but her emotions grew deeper and stronger, until she felt that all she desired was to die—when she would be at rest. A knock at the door roused her, and she opened it to find the clergyman of the par- ish standing outside. Something in his look startled her. It was not with his usual cherry smile that he asked permission to enter, but with a hesitating voice and troubled mien. *‘Did your husband go to the mine this morning, Mrs. Polgarth?’”’ he asked as he entered the little sitting-room. ‘Yes, sir, I think so,’’ she replied. “I asked,’’ he went on, ‘hoping he had not, for unfortunately a deep sorrow has come into our midst very suddenly indeed. There has heen an accident in the Lulworth this morning. A large portion of the mine has fallen in, and some of the men are en- tombed either behind or under it. Among he missing is, I fear, your husband.” She said nothing, and betrayed no emo- tion whatever, but gazed at him witha strange, fixed look, which he had noticed come over her face when he mentioned there had been an accident. ‘I cannot, dare not hold out any hope of his safety, but must tell you the truth, that he as well as those who are with him, must be looked upon as dead.”’ No change even then in the expression; scarcely any in the attitude of the woman, exeept the sudden clasping of the hands, and for a moment the good clergyman thought his words could not have conveyed their full meaning to her, and he essayed to find another way to break the tidings. She, however, understood. And it was the understanding that deprived her for the time of all power of either speech or movement. ‘‘Leave me, sir, leave me,’’ she at length managed to gasp. And the clergyman, thinking her tears were restrained by his presence, murmured a prayer that her af- fliction might be lightened, and, with a pitying look, went softly out. A horrible desire to laugh now took pos- session of the solitary woman, so much so that she had to bite herlips to prevent her- self from giving away to this wild emotion. The pain of her struggle was awful, and her bosom heaved convulsively as she fought desperately against it. Dead! She was free! It seemed to good to be true. Free. Free as the air! Yes, as the air she was choking for, and she staggered to the window and took in deep draughts of the sea-laden breeze that came up softly from: over the distant cliffs and across the meadows. Ah! Those blows, they had left their mark more deeply than the striker ever dreamed of, and the pain of them now on her heart out-weighed all regret for him, and bade her rather be thankful she was released from him. As the day wore on sympathetic neigh- bors came in and condoled with her, and through them she learned what there was to know—a sudden fall of earth from the roof of the mine, stopping all communica- tions with those working on the far side of it. As nosound could be heard from them, it was assumed that they had either been crushed or suffocated, but relays of men were endeavoring to dig a way through; though it was agreed by everyone who had any practical experience of such matters that the labor could not result in the sav- ing of any lives. Presently, however, a rumor came that a faint knocking had been heard proceeding from the other side of the fall; to the rela- tives of the other imprisoned men the news gave hope to each one that ‘‘her’’ man would be brought forth alive. To Joan Polgarth it brought neither fear nor re- joicing; her husband was dead and that was enough; her heart told her so, and she remained tranquil. The hopes thus raised were dashed down the next day when no further knockings were heard, and the dead body of one man, crushed beyond recognition, was discover- ed in the midst of the fallen earth. During the day three more bodies were found, and no hope remained that the men behind the earth would be found alive. Joan Polgarth sat in her house that evening; her mind was quieter now, and she was thinking that she would stay in the village no longer than she could help; she would go to her brother, a farmer, near Bideford, and rest before doing anything else. The next day came, and with it a letter in a hand totally unknown to her. She opened it, and turned to the signa- ture first. A cry of mingled astonishment and pleasure broke from her, a flush mantled her cheeks and her eyes sparkled. The name signed at the end was ‘‘Ralph Leigh,’’ and the writer said he had heard of her loss, and hastened to express his sympathy with her. As her cousin, he hoped if there were anything he could do then or later, she would not hesitate to ap- ply to him. Altogether, it was such a letter as a man loving a woman with all his heart, yet not daring openly to tell her so while she was yet in the midst of her hereaveraent, might write; and Joan Polgarth, with quite fem- inine intuition, knew what he meant, and kissed the letter a hundred times. All day long she thought of it; if her conscience pricked her at any time for so thinking, when as yet her husband’s body lay crushed in the mine, she told herself, and felt in her heart she spoke truly, that no love had existed between her and the dead man. He had killed it by all his coarseness and brutality, and she could not mourn his death, so far as it affected her- self. The third day broke, and the first thing that came to her hearing was a message, sent hastily up by the manager of the mine to say that the fallen earth had been re- moved sufficiently for the space behind to be explored, and that all the bodies, in- cluding her husband’s, had been fou-d. A feverish anxiety now took the place of the calm tranquility that she had shown, and she could settle to nothing. It was true, then, her life of unhappiness was over, and one of peace and love was about to rise before her. Her ears, accus- tomed to oaths and hard words, were to hear tender ard gentle speech; her eyes, instead of looking on a sullen drunken sot, would feast upon a cheerful honorable man; blows would would give place to worship. She would write him at once, thanking him for his kindly letter and accepting his proffered advice and help. The reply was begun, considered with loving hesitation, and at length finished. She held it in her hand, and was cross- ing the room, when she caught sight of herself in the glass, and stopped. Was that indeed Joan Polgarth? That happy bright-eyed woman, who seemed to have grown young again as she stood with a flood of golden sunlight falling upon her! ‘““You’re a nice widow—a-looking at yourself that way,” said a well-known voice behind her.”’ With a scream of agony, fear and sorrow, she turned —and saw her husband! ‘“Thought I was dead, eh? And bad an eye on number two. Well, others thought so too; but the doctor brought me round, the only one he could, and here I am again, a bit shaky, but mighty hungry. Get me something to eat and don’t stand staring there like a stuck pig.”’ Pale, haggard, and with the old pain gnawing at her heart, but ten fold deeper, she crushed her letter to Ralph Leigh up in her pocket. The sunlight died away behind a thick, murky cloud that had sud- denly come before it, and she turned away to do his bidding.— Harry E. Chapman in Everybody’s Magazine. Where Camphor Comes From. Florida Now Bids Fair to Supply Us a Large Amount of the Useful Gum. The State of Florida bids fair to become a most important center for the production of camphor in the near future. Supplies of eamphor have heretofore come from China, Japan and Formosa, but of the vast camphor forests that once ex- isted in these countries but a small portion rem:ins, and is the direct result of the wanton waste in the process practiced there for obtaining the gum from the tree. Camphor is usually obtained by boiling the chips of the wood and roots and bark in great kettles with water, and condensing the volatized gum on rushes suspended over the kettles. In this process the entire tree is cut down, and even the roots dug up. but in Florida it was found that the gum could be commercially produced from the leaves and twigs, seventy-seven pounds of which yield one pound of gum. Hence the bear- ing tree need not be disturbed or injured in any way, as the foliage it bears is very dense, and may be thinned down one-half without scarcely being noticed. The tree, besides, bears a very great amount of prun- ing without injury. It is an evergreen and makes three growths a year, in April, June and October. The tree removes nothing from the soil, the gum being formed en- tirely from the gases of the atmosphere; and hence the leaves, when deprived of their camphor and returned to the soil, con- stantly enrich the soil, which, in time, re- quires no fertilization whatever. Aside from its commercial uses, the camphor tree is one of the most ornamental ever culti- vated, its beautiful shape being equaled by the arborvitate only. Its lower branches lie on the ground, while the top forms a perfect cone. The flowers are small but exceedingly pretty, while the leaves are of a beautiful pale, glossy green color. Thermometer Love Making. ‘Professional nurses have no business he- ing so good looking,”’ said a young man who has recently spent several weeks in a local infirmary. ‘‘The nurse who was dele- gated to attend to me while I was laid up was a distractingly handsome girl, with a pure Greek profile, redish brown hair—the kind that seems full of little golden ten- drilsin the sunlight—and eyes as liquid as a fawn’s. The first time she put her finger on my wrist my pulse ran up to at least 175, and she took it for granted I had a high fever and dosed me accordingly. I tried repeatedly to lure her into conversa- tion, but she wouldn’t be lured. She was strictly business. When I started to pay her compliments she would ask me to put out my tongue, which was an insurmount- able obstacle in conversation. I used to lie there with my tongue hanging out try- ing to put my whole soul into my eyes, but it was no go. No man can look ro- mantic with half a foot of furry red tongue protruding from his countenance. ‘‘Another way she had of gagging me was by putting the thermometer in my mooth. The last week I was there I pro- posed to her five times, or, rather, I tried to, but she invariably choked off my decla- rations by thrusting a thermometer into my mouth. I got so excited one time that I came near swallowing a thermometer worth several dollars. She was a most-ex- cellent young woman and had lots of sound common sense, as was evidenced by the fact that she gave me no encouragement whatever.”’ Artificial Lumber. The latest novelty in the building line is artificial lumber. It is the invention of Oscar L. Gardner, of Brooklyn Patents have been obtained in the United States, Canada, Australia and all over Europe. The Artificial Lumber company of Amer- ica has been formed with a capital of $12,- 000,000 and the building trade is about to be revolutionized. Artificial lumber is made from straw into long fibre boards and is fire proof, non-conductor of heat or cold, air tight, will not warp or split, free from cracks, deadens all reverberations, gives back no echo, obviates the use of lath and plaster, saves labor and material, has more uses than natural wood, rivals mahogany and oak in durability, has a beautiful finish and is cheaper than wood. WORKING NIGHT AND DAY.—The busi- est and mightiest little thing that ever was made is Dr. King’s New Life Pills. These pills change weakness into strength, lis¢- lessness into energy, brain-fag into mental power. They’re wonderful in building up the health. Only 25 cents per box. Sold by F. P. Green, druggist. Two Great Coming Booms. Two great mining booms are expeeted on the Pacific coast this year. One will center at Cape Nome, Alaska, and the other at Sumpter, 32 miles from Baker City, Oregon. It is estimated that 30,000 people will rush to the wonderful beach diggings and frozen creek-beds on Bering Sea, and from present indications fully as many will pour into the new Webfoot Eldorado. The much-used phrase, ‘‘Klondikes at Home,’’ first appeared as the title of a chapter in a little book issued by the Ore- gon railroad and Navigation Company, in 1897; and it has already become a splendid reality in the Eastern Oregon mining dis- tricts. Over 5,000 mining locations have been made; scores of paying mines and hundreds of promising ones have been opened up, and many handsome fortunes have been taken out. Stamp mills and mining machinery are going in by train- loads, and the whole vast mineral bear- ing region of 14,000 square miles is be- ing dotted with new and flourishing min- | ing camps—of which the most notable is Sampter, in Baker county. It is a young wonder. Two years ago it was unheard-of, except as the camping place of a small detachment of United States troops the day Fort Sumpter was fired upon. A year ago it was a cross-roads village with perhaps 150 inbabitants, and in May. 1899, it had about 250. In Jan- uary, 1900,—Iless than eight months later, —it is a rushing, bustling little city of nearly 3000 population, with over 100 busi- ness houses, including stores, banks, hotels, restaurants, saloons, theatres, breweries, real estate and assay offices, and all the other hoom mining-camp establishments. It has churches, good schools, live news- papers, telegraph and telephoue, a $75,000 waterworks plant, a stalwart fire depart- ment, and is lighted by electricity. With four hotels, six restaurants and 10 lodging houses, a contract has just been closed for a $100,000 hotel. Eight brick blocks and nearly 100 less pretentious houses are now going up. In mid-winter snow and eold, carpenters and bricklayers are working at big wages, every hour of daylight; and yet people are pouring in faster than roofs can be reared to shelter them. Many are liv- ing in tents and shacks. Real estate is kiting skyward. A lot that a Portland drummer named Collett had to take, two years ago. for a debt of $100, has just been sold for $2,250; and one for which Ed. Geiser paid $200 in Nov. 1897, brought $7,000 in November, 1899. Last November, Mr. Mayer leased a busi- ness room for a year at $50 a month, and in December he re-let it for the remaining 11 months of his lease at $100 a month. For the week ending December 18th, 1899, the real estate business, including town lots, mining claims, honds, mortgages and releases amounted to $136,604—more in that line than was done during the same time in St. Paul, with 175,000 population. The town handles, by rail and stage, over 3,000,000 pounds of freight a month; and has risen, in little over six months, from nothing almost to the size of Deadwood in the palmiest days of the Black Hills. The Sumpter boom is the biggest and liveliest thing of its age on the Pacific Slope to-day, and it has seemingly come to stay. The town is literally built on golden rock. It is walled in by mountains of gold- seamed quartz, and all its streams roll over golden sands. It is the center and supply and distribution point of hundreds, if not thousands, of square miles of gold-bearing territory, whose riches pass all ordinary computation In the very borders of the town, in the shadows of its churches and schools, banks and hotels, a lot of Chinamen are washing out gold enough on the Ellis placers to pay $320 a week in royalties, and the Downey placers, ahout a mile south of the railroad depot, are paying handsomely. Every river, creek and rivulet for 50 miles around carries golden dust and nuggets in its sands. Six miles north of the town is the famous Cracker creek district, where the Eureka and Excelsior mine has produced $220,000 a year; The North Pole, located and abandoned as worthless, a dozen times, which is now yielding over $100,000 a year; the Golconda, which yields $150,000 a year, and in which ore was recently struck that runs from $100 to $10,000 to the ton, some of it going $10 to the pound; the Columbia, which could have been bought not long ago for $1,000, and is now producing over $100,000 a year; the Ibex, which was sold last February, for $65,000, and resold in December for $300,000, and whose product for this year is estimated at the full amount of its purchase price; and a hundred other productive or prospective bonanzas. Eleven miles uorthwest of Sumpter lies the Cable Cove district, abounding in rich mines and prospects; and 14 miles north- west is Granite, the center of a score of mines that would be wonders anywhere but here. Four years ago the owners of the Red Boy were too poor to pay freight charges on a small shipment of material. They managed by hard hustling to borrow the necessary money, and the mine is now turning out $27,000 a month, or over $300,- 000 a year, in gold bricks—and negotia- tions are pending for its sale toa London syndicate at $3,000,000. The Cougar, Montana, Bellevue, Magnolia, May Queen, Little Giant and scores of others are among the sure bonanzas of the camp. Sixteen miles west of Sumpter, on the same vast northeast and southwest mineral dike, on which are all these mines, is the Bonanza, whose history dwarfs all the ro- mances of the orient. A half-interest in it could not be sold, a few years ago, for $250. A young boy, driving an express wagon in Baker City, took hold of it; and, with the aid of his mother and sisters, developad it till he was able to sell the control of it for $750,000. Now, with a 40-stamp mill, it is paying $40,000 a month, and is said by experts to have from $5,000,000 to $8,000,000 of ore in sight. In the same neighborhood are the Don Juan, Imperial, Pyx, Phoenix, Banzette, Snarr, Intrinsic, Van Anda and scores of other great dividend-payers in the present or near future, including the Diadem, which has just been capitalized at $1,000,- 000. About 20 miles west of the Bonanza, and 36 miles from Sumpter, is the Susanville district, whose placersare panning out tens of thousands of dollars every year, and where the Badger, Cabell, Stockton and Skyscraper bid fair to take their places among the big producers. And at Canyon City, 50 miles southwest of Sumpter, where $2,500,000 has heen washed out of the placers, is the Great Northern mine, from whose $200,000-to-the-ton ore Ike Guker picked a fortune with a hammer and an old pocket-knife. All over this gold-strewn wonderland new discoveries are being daily—almost hourly—made. During the first week in December Prospectors Culbertson and Bee located two claims five miles southeast of Sumpter, and six days afterward sold them for $20,000. From a small piece of float rock on the just-found Concord, nearly $200 was pounded out in a mortar. On the old Sumpter and Granite stage road, eight miles northwest of town, a ledge of EE ore two miles long, and ranning $29 to the ton in free gold, was found December 10th; and J. B. Stoddard has just discovered that his timber land adjoining Sumpter on the south yields $1.50 a cubic yard as gold- placer, and 1,000 or 10,000 similar cases might be mentioned. All this vast, and as yet almost unex- plored mineral empire is tributary to Sumpter. Every ton of machinery and supplies brought in must come through Sumpter; and every ton of ore and con- centrates, and every pound or ounce of bullion, dust or nuggets shipped out must go through Sumpter. It is the metropolis of what promises—with every probability of fulfilling the promise—to rival Cripple Creek, the Klondike and the Transvaal, as a Bonanzaland—a ‘‘Klondike at Home.” P. DoNAN. Body in a Box. The Corpse of a Murdered Man Sent by Express. A dead body was discovered at Sioux City, Towa. Feb. 1st, at the office of the United States express company Thursday in a pine box, which was shipped from Baltimore on January 16th. It was addressed to *‘Mr. John 8. Bradford, Sioux City, Iowa.” John S. Bradford is not known in Sioux City. On the tag on which the address had been written was written ‘‘Books.”’ W. B. Bevier, agent of the express com- pany, has the way bill, but the name of the consignor does not appear. The body was removed to an undertaker’s rooms. It is that of a man about 55 years of age. A white shirt was the only garment on the body, which was wrapped in cheese cloth. In the box were a number of Baltimore papers. Mr. Bevier was in the store room Tues- day morning when he became aware of an odor, and investigated. He easily traced it to the box. It was 24 inches wide, 38 inches long and 18 inches deep, and was secured by iron bands. The body was huddled up in one corner of the box, cramped and squeezed to- gather. In the corner in which the head lay was a great lot of blood, which had come from a wound in the head, probably the cause of death. One arm had been broken when the body was crowded into the box. The cut was on the left side of the head, about two inches behind the ear. The blow evidently had been struck with a heavy, sharp instrument. The skull had been fractured. The gash was about two inches in length and had been rudely sewn up. The face was discolored beyond identification. The box was evidently made by the per- sons who placed the body in it. The parts were knitted together strongly. On one end was a label of the United States ex- press office at Sioux City, which read : “Jan. 19th, 1900.’ The date shows the time of the receipt of the box at the local office. On the other end was a label which read from Baltimore. There was no other lettering on the box. The writing on the tag hag been poorly done and the man who wrote it either was a poor penman or tried to disguise his hand. The word ‘‘Iowa’’ is spelled ‘‘Iouwa.’” The word ‘‘hooks’’ was evidently written as an afterthought. It was written with a blunt pencil and ina better hand than the other writing, which was done with ink. An inquest was held to-day. There are fourteen teeth in a false set taken from the mouth of the dead man. It is thought that through these his identity may be learned. BALTIMORE, Md., Feb. 1.—The entire detective force of Baltimore is at work on the mysterious shipment of a man’s body in a box from this city to Sioux City, Ia. As yet the officials have but a slight clue. This was furnished to them by Mr. Wm. T. Spring, general manager of the United States express company at this point. He stated this evening that the box was brought to the main office of the company at Calvert and Baltimore streets by two men on the afternoon of January 16th, who brought the hox in a wagon. One of the men was apparently the driver hired for the occa- sion. The other, who acted spokesman and gave all the necessary instructions and paid the freight, was of respectahle appear- ance and seemed entirely at ease. He stated that the box contained books and had the address of ‘‘John S. Bradford, Sioux City, Ia.,”’ placed upon it. Shortly after its receipt the box was carted to the Montgomery street warehouse, and from there shipped west. The police have a description of the man who drove the wagon and are searching for him. Convicts Getting Scarce. There are* Many Vacant Cells in the Western Penitentiary. Warden E. S. Wright, of the western penitentiary, in his annual report to the board of inspectors, says the business at the Riverside prison is decidedly on the de- cline. The population at the beginning of the last year was 956. The number of con- victs received during the succeeding twelve months, which was 297, was the lowest in ten years. The number pardoned was 18; discharged, 374; died, 9, making the total population at the end of the year 879. A comparison shows that the number of con- victs from Pennsylvania since the prison was opened in 1826 has been 6,628, or 51.82 per cent. of the total population, 26.98 per cent. having been native born and 21.2 per cent. foreigners. Of those received last year 156, or 52.53 per cent., were of native born parents and 91 or 30.64 per cent. were of foreign born parents. The population was composed as follows : White males, 684; white females, 15; mulatto males, 15; females, 1; black males, 157; black females, 7. Eighty per cent were white and 20 per cent. black. One third of the cells of the prison are unoccupied, and there will be a further beavy decrease in the population during the present year on ac- count of the discharge of a larger number of short term prisoners, who had been sent to the prison from adjoining counties in- stead of being given workhouse and jail sentences, customary for the character of the offenses with which they were charged. Dosing a Fern. Castor Oil as Medicine For Household Plants. The five-leaved variety of fern, like the maidenhair and others, is not to be spripk- led on the leaves, says a florist. House plants of larger foliage, however, like the rubber plant and palms, need careful and comparatively frequent sponging and sprinkling with water. A further sug- gestion in the care of house plants is con- tributed by a woman who has phenomenal success with her large assortment. “If I find that a plant seems weak and ill-nour- ished,’’ she says, ‘‘I give it a dose of castor oil some morning instead of the usual wa- ter, repeating it, perhaps, after an interval of a week or ten days, if the improvement does not seem sufficiently marked. The suggestion was given to me by 2 florist a long time ago, and I have tried it repeat- edly with excellent results.” SUZANNE'S DEEP GRIEF. ‘‘Have youn heard of Suzanne's latest mis- fortune ?”’ queried the girl in the pink waist. “‘M’h I don’t know. [heard thatshe had lost Beauty again; but I can’t say that I consider that a misfortune,’ replied the girl in the tan coat. *‘She does. however, and I am avoiding her until the worst is over. I am very sympathetic, but really I can’t shed tears over actual happenings, as I would if I saw them on the stage, so—’’ “Of course you can’t. However, Suzan- ne’s heart is as brittle as a tortoise shell comb, so Isuppose it is quite broken now.”’ ‘Quite. Henry is administering consola- tion three times a day.” ‘In the shape of honbons, I suppose.” ‘Sometimes [ have seen her eating choco- lates with the tears running down her cheeks, hecause dear little Beauty is so fond of them, too!’ **And is Henry so patient as that? sister told me—"’ ‘A man is usually patient with a girl who is neither related nor engaged to him, dear.”’ “True. Still, Isuppose that the paper which contains the advertisement of the usual reward for Beauty’s return will also contain the announcement of their engage- ment. He really couldn’t get a chance to ask her to marry him, because Beauty hates him so that he won’t allow him to go near her. And even a widower would hesi- tate to shriek a proposal clear across the room.”’ “With the certainty that it would be punctuated with barks and growls and ad- monitions to ‘Be a good doggie now, and listen to what the gentleman is saying!’ Yes, I think he might,’’ said the girl in the pink waist. *‘But then a man never really makes up his mind until he finds he has a rival—and a dog is better than no rival at all! Some- times I wonder if Suzanne is really as stup- id as she looks.’ ‘‘How charitable you are, dear! I shall never again hesitate to leave a crowded room before you do! Well, Idon’t see how Suzanne’s father can afford to let her keep a dog!’ ‘‘Beauty was a present, dear. He—’' ‘That was the least of it; he must already have cost his weight in gold; in the matter of advertisements alone.”’ ‘To say nothing of rewards and chicken bones, I see.” ‘““M’hm. Did you ever hear how Suzanne and Arthur quarreled ?"’ ‘Of course. He told me himself, and—?"’ ‘‘Hardly the exact reason, dear. When Beauty chewed up the second hat for him, Suzanne merely said : ‘I think you might at least wear derby hats. Silk ones always give the dear little fellow such an attack of indigestion !” 7? ‘Oh, my goodness, gracious! You don’t say so! But how was Beauty lost this time ?7? “Suzanne doesn’t quite know. She says he had beenso good that day. He had only bitten one boy—such a small boy that he hardly counted at all; chewed up her moth- er’s pocketbook and refused to let her rich old aunt enter the house! She took him for a walk about dusk, on her father’s ad- vice, and—"’ “By the way, her father isso fond of Henry. 1saw them laughing like a pair of conspirators only the other day.”’ ‘‘He would be fond of any man who real- ly wanted to marry Suzanne, dear. Well, Beauty was peaceably chasing a cat, when he suddenly disappeared. Oddly enough, she met Henry at the corner, and he—?’ ‘‘Helped to hunt for Beauty. I see.” ““H’m. He has persuaded her not to ad- vertise this time. He says—why here is Grace !”’ ‘Oh, girls !”’ cried the girl in the fur coat ‘‘Suzanne is really engaged to Henry at last 1”? ‘You don’t say so !”’ said the girl in the pink waist; ‘‘and has Beanty—?’ ‘‘Been found ? No dear. And I doubt if he ever is. You see the evening he disap- peared I happened to pass the corner of her street, and—"’ **You heard her lamentations ?’’ ‘‘She hadn’t missed him yet, dear. But Henry was giving a roll of money to a dirty looking man, and the dirty looking man had alittle dog under his arm that was either Beauty or his twin brother !”’— By Eliza Armstrong in North American. His Coles for February. The Forecast He Makes for this Month. Prof. Coles 1n Storms and Signs for Feb- ruary says: We have reasons to believe that the month of February will prove a very wick- ‘ed month; and all manner of evil doings will be recorded, as the ‘‘evil planets’’ will be in the ascendency, and will occupy well fortified positions. The magnetic and electric currents will form their ‘‘junec- tions’’ ¢n land this month for the first time in four months; and will cause great at- mospheric disturbances, resulting in un- precedented gales, cyclones, floods, tor- nadoes, blizzards, earthquakes and elec- trical storms. The sea coast will be in great danger of a tidal wave; and all pre- caution should be used by ‘‘sailors,’’ as the month has no new moon, which is an evil omen for ships on the sea. Wicked tor- nadoes and destructive sleet storms will be almost sure to visit many sections of this country. The southern and western states must watch out for tornadoes, floods, bliz- zards and earthquakes. For the past four months we have been sounding the warning that great meteor- ological disturbances would be liable to oc- cur during the months of February and March. The planets are in good position this month to give us a great surprise! The greatest disturbances may be looked for between the 1st and 4th, the 6th and 9th, the 11th and 16th, the 18th and 22nd, and the 24th and 28th. Watch out for high ‘gales’ and ‘‘blizzards;’’ snow blockades and thunder storms,accompanied by *‘light- ning.”” Strange appearing ‘‘signs’’ will appear in the heavens; and there will be great excitement in religious circles, as there will be no new moon in the month of February, and all of the Sabbath days will be ‘‘high flood’’ days! The sunrise and the sunset scenes will be beautiful to be- hold. The southern states will be in dan- ger of a blighting blizzard. For ‘‘plant- ing signs,” when to trim trees and vines and all such information, send 10 cents to Prof. C. Coles, Kingston, Pa., and get a copy of his ‘‘Storms and Signs.?’ A NIGHT OF TERROR. — ‘‘Awful anxiety was felt for the widow of the brave General Burnham of Machias, Me., when the doctors said she would die from pneu- monia before morning’? writes Mrs. S. H. Lincoln, who attended her that fearful night, but she begged for Dr. King’s New Discovery, which had more than once saved her life, and cured her of Consumption. After taking, she slept all night. Further use entirely cured her.”” This marvellous medicine is guaranteed to cure all Throat, Chest and Lung Diseases. Only 50 cents and $1.00. Trial bottles free at F. P. Green’s drug store. J
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers