re CR ST Bellefonte, Pa., Aug. 17, 1900. TT -_— A MONUMENT FOR THE SOLDIERS. A monument for the soldiers! And what will ye build it of? Can ye build it of marble, or brass or bronze ? Outlasting the soldier’s love ? Can ye glorify it with legends, As grand as their blood hath writ, From the inmost shrine of this land of thine To the utmost verge of it ? And the answer came : We would build it Out of our hopes made sure, And out of our prayers and tears, And out of our faith secure; We would build it out of the great white truths Their death has sanctified, Andthe sculptured forms of the men in arms, ‘And their faces ere they died. And what heroic figures Can the sculptor carve in stone ? Can the marble breast be made to bleed, And the marble lips to moan ? Can the marble brow be fevered ? And the marble eyes be graved To look their last, as the flag floats past On the country they have saved ? And the answer came: The figures Shall be all brave and fair, And, as befitting, as pure and white As the stars above their grave ! The marble lips, and breast and brow Whereon the laurel lies, Bequeath us right to guard the flight Of the old flag in the skies! A monument for the soldiers! Built of a people’s love, And blazoned and decked and panoplied With the hearts she built it of ! And see that ye build it stately, In pillar and niche and gate, And high in pose as the souls of those It would commemorate ! ; —James Witcombe Riley, THE GIFT OF CYRILLA. Nearly every woman who swished through the Turkish room of the Yaldoh Astoria that November morning had pai homage to the baby, as might be expected from the sex whose chief glory is materni- ty. The sole exception, in fact, was a lady overdressed as to form and face (the latter was a painting representing the De- feat of Art by a Legion of Years, ) and even she gave tribute at the shrine, after her fashion, {for her mouth became a prime line, and she clutched closer at a mothy York- shire terrier, who yapped at the baby as at a dangerous rival. The widow-seat presented a fableauw vi- vant that warranted all this. An enor- mous negress of dead-black skin and dusky, rolling eyes was imbedded in the cushions, the sunlight pouring over her billowy . frame. On her crinkly hair was perched a small cap of diaphanous white, whose frill was edged with a band of black, as was her flowing, immaculately fresh apron. Doomed with all her racial passion for vi- vacious hues to this conventional sombre- ness, she basked in the sunbeams without a breath of gloom in her suggestiveness. On her capacious lap was the baby! Even those purblind beings who think all three-months-old infants as much alike as pease, must have recognized in this blos- som of babyhood a piquant individuality and charm. The violet eyes in the warm alabaster face ‘turned this way and that with an air of bland appraisal.” Sometimes ‘the little mouth expanded into a toothless but captivating smile, while arms and legs worked through sheer exuberance of life. The sun turned the down on the rosy pate into golden moss as the babe disported thus. Like spots on the sun, slight notes of the ‘mourning to which that infantile unit was affiliated with such bonny unconsciousness pointed the snowy purity of its toilette. Three pompons of numberless loops of nar- row satin ribbon, like blooms from some fairy show garden, held each one strand of black. The rich coat of white corded silk over a flowing garment of flnest linen was embroidered in forget-me-nots, whose hearts, instead of gold, were dots of black. There was a pathetic absurdity about it all. That the women should have uttered spontaneous cries of delight and stroked the soft cheeks with their gloved fingers ‘was matter of course. But the precions morsel of humanity gave proof of sex in- stinet by a determined and victorious “‘throwing itself’’ at the head of a ““lord of creation. He was a tall, spare man, distinguished in bearing, a pronounced shadow of melancholy on his features. ‘Like the baby and its nurse, he was in mourning. ; He had scarcely entered the room before the violet eyes of the infant fastened upon him. The plastic frame writhed with what looked like greetings of a short-lost sire. That he was not, for he had halted irreso- * lutely some paces away enthralled by the winsome creature. He sank into an arm- chair opposite and gazed as Edipus might ‘have brooded over the Sphinx. The baby shamelessly cooed and gurgled at him with -inarticulate eloquence, till the gravity. al- most amounting to sterness, in his dark face softened. At last, as a small pink hand was thrust toward him like a star- fish in distress, he rose, walked slowly to- ward the charmer; and touched its velvety cheek with hisforefinger. © Whereupon the baby, with a broken. chortle of triumph, grasped the finger with a mordant grip. The dusky ‘‘mammy’’ beamed with com- “placency over this audacions conquest. “How old is the baby?’’ he asked, in a mellow voice. 7 8. ! “Three months ole las’ week,’ replied the nurse precisely. ~~ t “Is is. a boy or a girl?’ ; "She is a pice little girl baby. = The man should have knewn enough about women to have gathered that. He seated himself beside the stout nurse and the “'nice little girl baby,’”” who had not lessened her grip on his ‘finger, rolled "her eyes up at him with a reckless backward toss of her head, and cooed like a turtle- dove, as if to say, ‘Of course, I am a nice littlegiri baby,» =~ veoh te ~~ “‘What is her name?’’ he continued, his I jes reckon like that gen’l’man had a baby of his own, Siig epeugh, Lucinda declared, with oily eracularity, as she got to her feet with surprising lightness, hoist- Cyrilly like a fleck of foam in her stalwart arms. ‘‘He couldn’ keep away fum her, nohow.”’ OE = Bo The young mother gave a guick sigh, and an inscrutable look came into the mo- bile, girlish face, Her eyes seemed to be looking down some vista of the past. She stooped and’ kissed the lovely child, then left the room. The next morning when Lucinda drifted of a barge, the gentleman was sitting in the window-seat, with his air of dignified gravity. He rosé promptly, and piling the cushions Taturioutly for the negress, seat- ed himself on an adjoining chair. Cyrilly doubled ap like the blade of ‘a small jack- knife as she heaved forward to secure his soothing finger. ‘‘Well, how did you enjoy your drive yesterday, and what do you think of Gen- eral Graut’s Tomb, Cyrilla?’’ he inquired of the charmer, ingratiatingly. Through the complacent mouth of Lu- cinda the baby replied: ‘‘She done enjoy it vehy much. I reckon she thought her pappy ought to have a moniment like that down on de Potomae.”’ ‘Oh, her father is dead!’’ said the gen- tleman, softly. ‘‘Was he in the army?”’ “Deed he was. sir. He was Cap’n Cyril Winchester, of the—th Virginia Volunteers. He was killed in Cuba, fightin’ for the Cu- bans,” Lucinda exclaimed, with lingering unctuousness. “That is very sad. He must have been a young man,’’ he ventured, with the girlish widow in his mind’s eye. little woman! left with this dear little girl baby, to whom she had to be father and mother. ‘‘He was turne® thirty-four when he died. He never saw this nice baby. Cyrilly am a pros’humus baby, ’’ she added slowly, but with swelling dignity. The gentleman did not smile. Cyrilly kicked her feet up and down, and put her fist in her mouth as if overcome by such distine- tion. But she was evidently more inter- ested in her mature slave that in death and war. He, touched by this bit of family history, laid his hand with its tempera- mental fingers on her golden head, almost as if blessing her. As she rolled up her eyes to him and uwered an appreciative coo he rose hastily. *‘I had a little girl like that once,’’ he said simply, to Lucinda. ‘* "Deed I hoped nuth’n happn’d to her,”’ said she, with her slow, easy drawl. ‘She died two weeks ago,’’ he replied, with dignified restraint.” ~~ “Deed, that was truly sad, sure enough,’” and Lucinda gathered her infant charge closer to her ample bosom. Quite naturally, she repeated this to her mistress... As Mis. Winchester adored her infant daughter, it had the effect of heightening her interest in the stranger. It also led to her learning from friends in New York that the wife of Mr. Harbor- ough had died not a year ago, without ever having seen the little one whose ad- vent in the world preceeded her departure from it by a brief icterval. No wonder the poor man had that interesting, moving air of deep, if contained,sorrow. He prob- ably mourned more for his wife than the baby who had passed so quickly from the stage after her entrance upon it had been so dearly paid for. His little girl, a half ‘orphan, too, like Cyrilla! It was easy to understand his interest in the baby. * The next morning the young mother told Lucinda to mend a gown that had been torn, and, that Cyrilla might not lose her morning installment of sunshine, took that young woman herself to the Turkish room. Being not superior to the caprices of her'sex, Cyrilla was unaccountably fret- ful, contrary to her want, and wailed as if her sun of bappiness had set never to rise again. In vain did the girlish mother dance her up and down, call her attention to the beautiful cab-horse out side the window, and press her cheek against the still softer one of her offspring. In vain! Cyrilla wailed fathoms deep in grief. The poor little mother felt that she would he obliged to call in the aid of Lucinda, mor- tifying as that would be to maternal pride, when suddenly the infant’s long, attenu- ated moan was cut absolutely short, her tear-wet eyes took an interest in the sub- lunary sphere she adorned, and sat up. Mr. Harborough had entered the room and seated himself in a chair not far away. He did not feel quite warranted in ap- proaching the haby as familiarly as he would have done had the sympathetic and lowly Lucinda been in charge. He had a humble sense, also, that too great interest in the beautiful baby might awaken some poignant touch in the hushand-bereaved young mother. : RE Hy Cyrilla certainly had nosuch forethought in the small system. She seemed at first stupified at his willing remoteness when she was there and wanted him, for had she not stretched a erumbled hand toward him and cooed throatily and lingeringly? But this phase gave way to an tay indig- nant one. She began to chase her note of woe ‘up and down small hillocks of 'inflec- tion, stretching her diminutive frame out in despairing rigidity, all indicative of the strongest protest against her slave main- taining that uupardonable aloftness! ot vd ‘Winchester caught his glance, with a ‘childlike appeal in her lustrous eyes. She even rose and reseated herself, leaving a larger space at her side, which of its nat- ure was inviting. Mr. Harborough bent a day. he es Gein “Pardon? Is the little girl not well to- day?’ he asked, with his grave courtesy, as he approached them. ~~ © "¥Why, she hasi’t been. But she seems all | right now,” replied the young mother, with a quick ‘upward glance aud a fashing smile. o She certainly did. pring Sought ‘with brazeti openness to allure a reserved gentle- man, she ‘betrayed the most artless elight nd over her triumph. She stretched her h; with a friendly smile, which for the first time, made something in Mr. Harborough ‘cleave to hér apart from the fact of her re- eyes fixed on the violet upturned orbs of | ation to Cyrilla, drew her crepe folds a the damsel. ~ “Cyrilly. She done named after her poor. 0 Rae if VIHA fe reread The gentleman turned his gaze on the ‘nurse thoughtfully, a latent interrogation on his lips. Before he had time to put it ligtle closer. He sat down surrendering his finger to the baby, who, politically, was eT VonpaNGlONTIE. dye)’ at i - Of course this conversation with Cyrilla necessarily involved some marginal com- into words a young woman approached, | ments from the young woman’s mamma. her dainty form swathed in crape. * “Lucinda,” she said, in fresh, young tones, “I'am going out. I want you to take baby for a ride while I am gone, the day is so beautiful. « The air will dc her good. Take a hansom, and; tell the cabby. to drive throngh the Park to Grant's Tomb and come back by the Riverside Drive.” The gentleman had risen at her approach and with a slight bow disengaged his fin- ger from captivity,not withoat some effort. He walked slowly away. That morning the dainty infant had a bunch of white violets pinned to her coat. After awhile she relinquished Mr. Harbor- ough’s finger, to employ her tiny hands by. tugging at the flowers until she wrench away a clostér of them, somewhat abbre- viated in stems. These, with what sound- ed like a maiden attempt at a laogh, she extended toward him unequivocally. ‘This is almost too much,’’ he murmur- ed, with a flash of quiet humor which re- vealed his white teeth in almost a gay into the Turkish room with the slow grace Poor | troubled glance on ‘his infant inamorata. | Cyrilla caught it, and uttered a distinctly new note of reproach. It carried the ‘for the familiar finger, and Mrs. Winchester, "ot “the deepest smile. ‘‘I onght not to be accessory to alizing as to lead her to forget ber own adornment, I fear you will bar me ont. I must send her a fresh bunch, to-morrow? You permit me?’’ ‘He looked at her treaty. : =o 2 ~ *“‘For once,” replied the young widow, with an air of gracious concession, her eyes twinkling. “She seems to think yon be- Tong to her entirely. She was more frac- ious than I bave ever known her to be til you appeared. You were like oil on the troubled waters.” Sr Mr. Harborough drew in a long breath. “She has a right to all I can give her. with a mock en- great sorrow. She has drawn the poison out of my soul. God grant yon may never w what it would be to-have her taken from you, Mrs. Winchester. She strained the golden head to her hos- om in spontaneous recoil from the thought. When she raised her eyes to him there was a new lustre to them. ‘Lucinda told me of you loss—your double loss,’ she said, with quiet earnest- ness, slightly emphasizing the *‘double.” “I'am very sorry for yon.’ He bent his head slightly, without a word. *_ % Mrs. Winchester remained in New York three weeks longer. This had not been her intention. How much her sense that her small daughter was comforting this splen- didly severe man in his sorrow contributed to delay can only be conjectured. Poor man! He had lost his little baby girl. She often wondered how much of his devo- tion to that departed offspring was blend- ded with love for the mother who had pre- ceded it into the Vale of Shadows. He was the kind of man to inspire any woman with great tenderness. She surely should know; he was quite a little the type of Captain Winchester! There was consider- ate deference in his every word and gesture that appealed to her Southern woman's ex- igency of chivalrousdevotion. If he could retain such deep feeling for a frail infant who had lived only a few months, what intensity of feeling must he have cherished for the woman to whom he had given the whole strength of his heart! No woman could ask worthier homage than the entire devotion of such a deep, well-poised, rich nature. Mrs. Winchester gave that char- acteristic girlish sigh, as she found her mind dwelling on a sunlit world of happi- ness such as she had once known herself, Soon after she felt that she must go. She needed in some way she could not an- alyze the comforting assurance of home and assured dear ones; those associated with the cherished soldier who had died, nobly, as he had lived. When she told Mr. Har- borough that she expected to go abroad in the spring he begged that she would. let him know when she would be in New York, that he might see her and the dear Cyrilla before they sailed. She promised te do so. When Cyrilla aud she were on their way to the station the baby wore a bunch of white violets, a parting attention of her slave man. Mis. Winchester took two or three of them and tucked them in her but- tonhole, saying, ‘‘Doesn’t baby want mani- ma to have some of her flowers?’ As a matter of fact Cyrilla never said 80. It was in May that they returned to New York. No word had passed between Mr. Harborough and them in the mean time. Mrs. Winchester wonld not let herself ask whether she did notthink hie.ought'to Have, sent ‘sone’ greeeting to—Oyrila.: That charmer had shed her mourning and was all whiteness and sweetness, like a Cape jasmine. She was as artless as ever, and far more coquettish. Her mamma had the same gentle, girlish dignity. She maintained that Cyrilla remembered Mr. Harborough perfectly. If she did not, then her springs of action were the same as of old, for she took up that gentleman just where she had left him. In the lovely spring days acquaintance between tie three grew till it was confessedly, to the heart, friendship; one that seemed to ahsorh the tender warmth of the spring tide. Cyrilla’s reception in the Turkish room in the moru- ing was a recognized feature of every day. Mrs. Winchester had supplanted Lucinda entirely now. The baby was older, of course, and could ‘help hold itself up now. . One day of enchanting brightness Mr. Harborough had taken Cyrilla and her mother for a drive through Westchester. As the victoria howled along the level, se- cluded road, with the tender environment of spring on every side, the hedge-rows quick with yonng leafage, arching boughs swaying above them, and the soft aira con- stant caress, they both'lapsed into one of those intimate silences suffused with sub- consciousness of a friendly presence that makes for perfect peace of soul. Suddenly, with a long respiration ‘as if waking from a dream, Mr. Harborough’s hand instinct- ively sought the baby’s. Cyrilla was sit- ting between her mother and himself. His fingers encountered the warm, soft hand. small eniongh, but longer than the one he had often been prisoner to. He murmured some excuse as he realized that Mrs. Win- chester had her arm about the child. He also felt with a Suange thrill, that the hand had not been withdrawn. He recog: nized the delicacy of this ‘with a pleasant eMOLION. . ini x uihanaie bond dn ‘1 shall miss you very much when you are gone,’ he said, softly, as if thinking aloud. Tie 3 FERS i Sr AEN EL EY FS ‘You have heen so kind’ to us, ‘we shall ae Jou." replied Msi Won chester, her eyes turning dreamily to the Soren of meadow. How rizntly the earth was taking on new life with its re- freshing wealth of verdure. She withdrew her arm and clasped the tiny hand nearest her. saat le vhonil ernie A ARE Li _ ‘I hope yon will not let Cyrilla forget me,’’ he remarked, with the manly smile ‘that ‘was all his own. She once asked her- Sie San sould consciously i ig such reloguence upon a mere pose of the lips. ~ UShe will fii forget,”’ Mrs. Winonoster answered, in low, clear tones. ‘‘She is too much her mother’s child for that.” “His grave eyes were slowly lifted to her after a passe, ‘Captain Winchester’s death ‘was a fearful blow to you, was it not?” Interrogative in form, the remark fell from him only as unwitting reflection on a fact her words had stamped upon his mind. It seemed natural, therefore, that she should not reply, and equally natural, when she did, that her words voiced a thought that her mental term of emotions aroused by his utterance. b “You must have idolized yonr wife?’ There was no hesitation about his re- joinder to this, but it startled. : 0 #T did.” Then, with his thought-be- ‘getting-thought simplicity which had pos- session of them both, but with how differ- ent an accent, he added, ‘‘One cannot help JOyeUr=y BO Nae hh She had never before canght the faintest tinge of bitterness in speech of his. Her eyes sought his in startled scrutiny. Nev- her robbing herself, and if I am so demor- Your child has helped to. tide me over a face, and he sighed unconsciously. Then, | er had melancholy so marked the expres- sion of his strong, handsome face. “*One cannot help love!’ she repeated, wanderiugly, aggressively, with quickened breath. ‘‘Who could wish to help it.” “That you say none but the most satisfying love ever en- tered your soul,’” he replied. sadly, regard- ing her illumined face wistfully. could ever survive its loss,” she returned in a low voice, pressing her child closer. ‘*I'scattered, where you reaped to the bundredfold,”’ he murmered. ‘‘Is there a ‘more cruel thing “in this cross-purposed world’’—again the bitterness ‘charged his mellow tones—‘‘that one human being poured ‘out his heart: like water upon’ an- other, and that other receiving it with in- difference, almost weariness? My wife did not care for me,’ he exclaimed, abruptly. *‘Or, rather, did. not love me. For in jus- tice, I must add, she had that strangest thing in woman, a nature apparently iu- capable of love. Of course I did not have any conception of this when I married her. When at last it was forced upon me that the woman I adored, the mother of my child, had only the slightest friendliness for me, and asked, nay, desired from me no more, it was like paralysis of the soul. It was even more cruel how utterly I fell away from her. When my little Elsie died I felt that I was an accursed thing. I did not think the dew of love could ever fall on the lava bed of my heart. This little angel’”’—he laid his hand tenderly on Cyrilla’s golden head—*‘‘saved me from be- coming a self-centered misanthrope, worth- less to my ownself and to my kind. She has made me at least able to endure like a man.’’ ‘I am glad you have told me this,’’ she said, slowly, her dark eyes, mournful and tender, looking into his with a new light in them. ‘If my little girl has been of such help to you, it is for some good. It is impossible that you should not find sometime, somewhere, what yonr nature craves and deserves.’’ ‘Thank you,” he answered, simply. ‘You are your daughter's mother. Yon cannot feel your loss so despairingly with that little comforter always at your side.”? Mrs. Winchester drew Cyrilla closer to ‘I shali feel quite lonely when you are gone,”’ resumed Mr. Harborough. He smiled resolutely. The soul, strengthened hy its momentary slipping of shackles, was resuming itself strongly. “And you tell me, yoa will be abroad a year. perhaps.” ‘*Even longer, if need be. I must get away from my surroundings here. They recall the past too strongly. Not that I would forget what made life so happy. but I fear this aching recollection of my loss. ' Time and change may enable me to recall it without this wearing regret. I have my child. Of course I shall never marry again. Simply that I never could love any mau enough to do that without a sense of profanation.”’ Cyrilla had been buoyantly indifferent to this baring of hearts, but in some way felt herself neglected. She now took her mother’s hand, affecting to regard it in the light of ‘a felicitons discovery. After twisting it, then turning it as if she pro- posed reading its palin, she suddenly be- thought her of a neglected * follower whose fidelity deserved better of her. Whereup- on she grasped Mr. Harborough’s finger with her other hand. After a moments perplexity as to what she should do with cher acquisitions. she conceived the bright idea of joining them, and sought to bring *theul togethier;”. = * HMO 6 Res “*The baby approves of our friendship,” said Mrs. Winchester, with her quick smile, “I think she is inviting me to go abroad with her.” A : “There was something pathetic in his lightness. “I am not sure it might not do you good,’’ she remarked affably. ‘‘There is no doubt she would like it.” **And not in the least but that T would. If her mother wonld endorse the invita- tion. Naturally, we could not embark on such an excursion into Utepia without a chaperon.”’ : He looked into her eyes, pleadingly. “I think T'ean assuine the responsibility of—Cyrilla!” she returned, meeting his gaze with friendly frankness, 3 * te eel hut it was really Cyrilla’s work,” the letter went on, which Mrs. Winchest- er’s woman friend received from that loyal little body the following spring from Fras- cati. ‘It was an affair de coeur with her from the start. If it had not been for the baby there is no reason to Shppose that I should ever haves known Mr. Harborough. She brought us together a year and a half ago in New York. Last spring she asked him to come abroad with us. In her cun- ning, baby way, you know. nian Then another touching thing about it is that he had a littie girl who died a mere baby, only a little while before he saw Cyrilla. 1 assure you, the match is all that darling’s! He could not love that recious child more if she were his own flesh and blood. He is so like Cyril, too, in age and character and disposition, that really, my dear, it does not seem so much like loving another man as it does like having my love for Cyril go right on—with Mr. Harborough’s assistance! ~~ = 2 +o youn t feel how beautiful it is that ny daring little girl should have played art in all this, and that she who w her own papa should have the very counterpart of him supplied to her in this wonderful way? Now she will not be forced to go through life with onl weak hand to guide her, but will real father's devoted care. I am really s little bit jealous of Cyrillal 1 tell Mr. Harhorough fie as in love sith het first. e says that she gave me to him. And y ;She Be A op ) Louise. I could esitate after that. I did not think it possible that one woman could love two men so absolutely. There is such a per- fect sympathy between us. We Both like quiet, beautiful places, where there is less of au (and woman!) han of nature, So we select lovely out-of-the-way spots, like d just ‘enjoy the er. And Cyrilla, this quaint Frascati, a Sweet earth and each of qugh’s name, and it expresses him as no other could—so dignified, tranquil, thoughtful, affectionate and hong) knows ever so many of them, and we intend to drift around from one to the other, like idle bees sipping honey from every flower, until we get over the honeymoon feeling. That really sounds like saying that we shall wander for life! ~~ oar “This is enough for now. Write me Soon, "At "Your devoted ~~ die MARGARET.” *P.8.—To think I should nearly have omitted to tell you how it all came about! herd’s. I made a small watch-case for Mr. Harborough. I didn’t want to give him anything sentimental. That is so foreign to both our natures. When he came to call, early in the morning, I had Cyrilla in my lap. We wished each other a ‘Merry that as you do shows her, and a tear fell upon her downy bead. | accusations it said ‘he was ‘‘two faced of course. Malcolm (that is Mr. Harbor- | Last Christmas we were in Cairo at Shep- Christmas,’ and then I said, Cyrilla has a little prezent for you, Mr. Harbarough. which I hope vou will like.” Yes! I said that! Think of it;"when you hear what happened. I slipped the case into her hand. He held out his band to take it. She held the case elasped a moment, as if considering. And then, Louise, she ) So fang it away as if it sere dirt, grabbed *‘It was so perfect that I did not think I | my h nd, and actually held isout to him vith her little mouth wide open. That's the way she laughs, you know. I was idiot enough to flash ap to the roots of my hair, and my laugh have sounded dreadfully forced. “Before I could draw my hand away he grasped it gently but firmly, and said: "I accept Cyrilla’s gift with all my heart. From the firet she has always known, and given me what I want- ed. But I have never longed for anything as I have for this. She knew what I need- ed for a Christmas gift better than her mother did.’ “Well, when ones own infant ‘gives one away,” what can one do?...... ’—By John J. A’Becket in Harper's Bazar. Frightfal Conditions Prevail at Nome. Captain Tuttle Regards Whole Coast Situation as Being Very Serious. Disease Runs Free Riot. Typhoid Fever Rages and 8mall-pox Makes Great Inroads en Argonauts. Much Distress was Reliev- ed. The official reports of Captain Tuttle of the revenue cutter Bear, dated July 6th at Nome City, Alaska, and of Captain Roberts of the revenue cntter Manning, dated July 14th at Dutch Harbor, have been received at the Treasury department. They con- tain many interesting details of the aidu- ous work of the revenue cutters in reliev- ing distress along the Alaska coast. The Bear went to the assistance of two wrecks and straightened outa controversy over the ownership of a steam launch at Nome. Captain Tuttle reports an epidemic of measles and pneumonia at Sincock, Port Clarence, Cape York and Cape Prince of Wales. In concluding, Captain Tuttle says : ‘The situation along the whole coast I regard as very serious. It is estimated that at present there is with a radius (taking the United States post office as a center) of ten miles 25,000 people. Most of them are living in tents, either on the beach or tun- dra. The sanitary condition of the portion of the city where houses have been erected is simply frightful. Typhoid fever is rag-~ ing and small pox steadily gaining. All possible efforts are being made to stamp out the smallpox, but with so many thous- ands of tents, scattered over miles of terri- ities to keep track of all the cases. Lo ‘‘As nearly as can be traced the disease was introduced from the steamer Oregon. Afterward the steamers Ohio and Santa Ana were found to be infected and were placed in quarantine. The Oregon had left before her cases were discovered. General Randall is commanding with a firm hand and having troops at his disposal will maintain order until such time as civil government is organized. I understand the nations all along the Siberian coast are suffering from influenza and pneumonia and not disposed to trade for reindeer: at present. i £3. pun Lin Captain Roberts gives ap. account of his trip to the relief of the barkentine Leslie D of San Francisco, which went ashore on Nunivak Island, June 23rd. | The Leslie D sailed from Seattle with 31 persons aboard onJune 27th... ws i wi ype. aunen, Captain, Jospehsen Caplain sailors and the following passengers: Mre. Fitten, Miss Carlsen, Captain Melander, S. Hunt, and another left for St. Michaels in a steam scow fitted witha sail and with a compass and dory on board. The owner said he intended to return’ with means for lightering the vessel, but had not been heard from when the report was written. The others went to Nome ‘and arrived there safely July 3rd the steamer Raghhild of Seattle : finding the vessel :abandoned took possession. ee , Evidence Was Apparent. A little tale was ‘told on: the Hon. ‘‘Dave’’ Ball during that memorable gath- ering of American patiiots at Kansas City which might be well’ worth repeating. It was perpetrated between drinks by a bioth- er politician, aud served wainly to empha- size the Pike Contyan’s crowning glory, his unblushing homeliness. = Colonel Ball, as most everybody knows, is in appearance one of the most unprepos- sessing men in Missouri. In fact, he claims tobe the ugliest man in the State. = A few weeks hack he went up into Northwest Missouri to make ‘a speech. While en- | route to the big picnic grove where he was billed to talk he was handed a marked copy. of The Daily Howler. The paper was edit- ed by a_wild-eyed Pop., who was accused of being in the employ of Mark Hantia’s Subsidized Press Bureau. ' The article re- ferred to was mainly denunciatory of Ball, and was written presumably to counteract the usual effects of one of the Colonel's lit- tle talks, Among other dreadful political ofl When oe mounted She smmp ‘Ball started olf something lige $014: , I “Ladies ih ‘gent wish to correct ‘a statement made in your daily paper that I was ‘two faced’.. Itisa small accusation from a small man and de- serves but littlereply.” ~~ °° Here his gestures increased and his col- lar. began: Shenilels suie sign that he was getting mad, fas shy § dels Eaaia wl . “My fellow citizens,” he blurted _ out. “do you think that it I had two faces I'd wear the one T’ve got on now ?!! © pia STE 1 a ———— Soin Well, Did You Ever fier po A Lehigh” County Man Marries His Step-granddaugh- cuter i gid dio woe Saat hslh I'An’Allentown special of August 10th says; In the Orphans’ Court this afternoon there was issued a marriage license to Jacob Sao Doney, a farmer, 57 years old, of Powder Valery, and Ida J. Kriebel. aved 16 years, of Hosensack. The ride to be and her father, Samuel Z. Kriebel, who gave the consent, came with the prospective bride- groom to get the mariage, license, and all hands left the office in a happy frame of mind. Doney ‘is the father of Samuel Z. isa daughter of Kriebel by a subsequent marriage. The : bridegroom is therefore, the step-grandat bide, VES TOE ber of the He Knows His Business. A St. Louis druggist recently advertised for ‘an’ phat LR thin drug clerk, wiih a mustache.” "When asked why he wanted an assistant with these special qualifications tlie druggist explain- ed that experience had taught him that a young and attractive clerk was of more value in gelling to ‘women, particularly those buying ‘soda water. Corpulent clerks, he added, are specially to be avoid- ed on this account, f tory, it is impossible for the health author-. falmros, the-engineer; Jolin Paliner, two | lemen, before entering | into a discussion of the issue of the day I | | “Miss Fi 1 assamin; | oii ave and & SAmaeE mand Kriebel’s first wife, and the intevded bride Eleven Are Dead. An Equal Number Injured, Some of Whom May Die. Accident on a Grade Crossing. Special +p he Le- high and New England Railroad Cras | ito an Omnibus Containing Twenty five Peo; F Were Returniug From a Funeral. > r Eleven persons were inst- ’ led and eleven others, several of rwill die, were seriously injured Sat |, night in a grade crossing, three mile “¥.; of Slating- ton, by a passenger tra 1 the Le- high and New England re. st, crashing into an omnibus containing tyenty five persons. All the dead and injured were in the omnibus and but three escaped unin- jured. gaat The dead are: Eli Rapley; aged 70; Mis. Eli 8. Remaley, his wife, aged 65; Mrs. James Kern, their daughter, aged 32, of Slatington; Samuel Mummy, aged 60; Mrs. Samuel Mummy, his wife, aged 58, of Walnutport; Mrs. Elias Sourwine, a widow, aged 53, of Slatington; Mrs. James Minnich, aged 33; Mrs. William Lane, aged 51; Miss Carrie Smith, aged 22; Mrs. Tilghman Kuntz, aged 35, of Walnutport. One yet unaccounted for. The injured are : Miss Distler, of Wal- nutport, will die; 3 year old son of Mrs. Kern will die; Harry Minnich, aged 10, of Slatington, will die; Mrs. William Resch, hurt internally, may die; Miss Carrie Nag- le, of Walnutpoit, internally injured, may die; George Minnich, probably die; Bryan Walp, Walnutport, may die; Miss Lizzie Jones, Walnutport, may die; Miss Alice Nagle, will recover; one unidentified, may ie. The accident occurred about 5 o'clock. The omnibus, driven by a man named Pet- ers, was returning to Slatington from a funeral which'the occupants had been at- tending at Cherryville. The coach be- longed to Henry Bitner, of Slatington, and the dead and injured are nearly all relatives of Sophia Schoeffer, at whose obsequies they had been present. The train was a special and consisted of an en- gine and one car. At the point at which the collision occurred there is a sharp curve in the road and the omnibus came along at a good rate of speed, the occupants unconscious of any impending danger, As the bus swung around the curve the en- gine and car came in sight. It was too ‘late too stop either the omnibus or the train, and as the driver of the former whip- ped up the four horses to cross the tracks ahead of the train the latter crashed into its middle. The occupants were thrown in. all directions, bruised and bleeding. The eleven dead were killed outright. Physicians and a special train were sent for and the injured were taken to South Bethlehem. fa ql No watchman is employed to warn teams or pedestrians of any. approaching. train, and those living in the vicinity state that it is impossible to hear an approaching train. A peculiar feature of the accident was that the horses drawing the bus escap- ed unhurt. Keeps His Petrified Wife. A . ; Spouse No 2 has not the Slightest Objection— When Husband Exhumed Woman's Body he Found it Tarned to Stone. ; ‘For several years J. H. Rickel, of Chan- ute, Kan., has kept his two wives in his little carriage shop there, and the women have never spoken to each other, yet no jealousy exists between them. The reason for:this is that the first wife, who died in the Dakota bad lands 25 years ago, is pet- Hie; and is securely packed ina waclen 0X." The living wife is her husband’s constant companion and helps him in the shop, be- sides doing her housework. When Rickel moved from Dakota, sever- al years ago, hie exhumed the body of wife No. 1 and found it to be petrified. He says that it seems only natural that he should want her body as near him as pos- sible. He adds that it is the only thor- ough case of petrifaction of a human body in the United States. The form is perfect and the features of the face almost lifelike. A Village Fire-Swept. : Forty-Three Buildings Burned at Turbutville. For a time Saturday afternoon the, vil- lage of Turbutville .was threatened with total destruction by. fire., The blaze start ed in a barn in the lower end of the town, and swept up the street, taking every building in its path until it reached the Bitler lumber yard, which was also des- troyed with its thousands of feet of sawed lumber. The total number of buildings destroyed is reported at 43, the list com- prising four stores, thirty dwelling houses and nine barns. ooo “''. WITHOUT FIRE PROTECTION, ~~ . The village is without fire protection, ‘and the only means of fighting. the flames ‘was with bucket brigades. 4 ] e fire com- panies of Bloomsburg were in readiness to go when word was received that on account of the scarcity of water the engines would, be useless. The loss will fall princi ly fipon the ‘property ‘owners, very few .»» | whom carried any insurance, and ' many : savisg nothing but the garments they t time. gah wore at t Fa Tis THF HG cig oad bE RE 3 A ERLE ang (eR TRE TELS ;:Miss Fronks though, Bal she & leote symptoms of growing sentimentality in pk Dolley, od she determine that she would discoursge him, says Har- per’s Bazar. Je kindly efforts to it apparent that his advances were unwi pe at hoa rer was too dense or too Eh 1 to see that she regarded him only with toleration, and rushed on to his doom. . to he expressive of ‘his love-lorn tion, “I am going to ask you a question which no doubt has been en put; to you many a time before, a i So. io hat y 0 are going to y," the girl cut in." “Yes, I’ve heen asked the question a great many times, and I'm go- ing a es it this time hefore I am ask- : ain. i a : ai ASE : "Mr. Dolley louked at her in a dazed sort of way, and she went on : 0 + *Yes, Lda play golf.” «© Bas re z Cheering Hum Up... dif ‘Mr. Newlywed—" =» 'v your old lover the street to-day lo king awfully blue. js, Newly wed-—1 hope. you tried ta im up. ‘ solr “Mr.” ry wal-Ob, yess? I showed him my buttonless shirt and that new tie you bought me. hat a THAT THROBBING HEADACHE—Wounld quickly leave you, if you used Dr. King’s New Life Pills. Thousands of sufferers have proved their matchless merit for Sick and Nervous Headaches. They make pure blood and build up your health. Only 25¢. id ids Trio Money back if not cured. = Sold by F. P. Green, Druggist. : ee,
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers