Bellefonte, Pa., Jan. 4, 1901. me THE LITTLE OLD HOUSE. It stands at the bend where the road has its end, And the blackberries nod on the vine, And the sun flickers down to its gables of brown Through the sweet-scented boughs of the pine. The roof is racked and the windows are cracked, And the grasses grow high at the door, But hid in my heart is an altar, apart, To the little old house by the shore. For its portals so bare was a Paradise rare, With the blossoms that clamered above. When a mother’s dear face gave a charm to the place As she sang at her labor of love. And the breeze, as it strays through the window and plays With the dust and the leaves on the floor, In a memory sweet of the pattering feet In the little, old house_by the shore. And again in my ears, through the dream of years, They whisper, the playmates of old, The brother whose eyes were a glimpse of the skies, The sister with ringlets of gold And “father” comes late to the path at the gate, As he did when the fishing was o'er, And the echoes ring out, at our welcoming shouts, From the little, old house hy the shore. But the night wind has blown and the vision has flown, And the sound of the children is still, And the shadowy mist, like a spirit has kissed The graves by the church on the hill. But softly, afar, sing the waves on the bar, A song of the sunshine of yore— A Inilaby deep for the loved ones who sleep Near the little, old house by the shore —Joe Lincoln in L. A. W. Bulletin. OLD PELICAN’S RUN. The county fair was the great event of the year in the county of Tyrolin a West- ern State. The fair was held early in October of each year. It lasted four days, and about every man, woman and child in the county went to the fair at least one day. The boy was regarded as fortunate who could go two days,and the boy who went three days was an object of envy toall the boys who knew him. The purses that had been complete- ly emptied by the extravagance and dissi- pation of the Fourth of July, began to fill up for the county fair. Everybody ‘‘saved up’’ all that he could for the fair. He knew that there would be innumerable side shows, refreshment stands, peanut peddlers and venders of all sorts of eatables that he would want to patronize. He knew that he would want to eat and drink all day long. He would want to feel free to treat the other boys if he cared to do so, and if he had arrived at the razor age there would in all probability be a girl clad in white, with a flutter of pink or blue ribbons whom he would want to treat so frequently to pink lemonade and amber ginger pop and gum drops, peanuts and ice cream that it would take not only a long purse on his part but a strong constitution on her part to survive it all. He would want to try his luck at tossing rings, or trying to toss them, over caues or pocket knives; he would want to try bis marksmanship in the shooting gallery; he would want to see the girl thirteen years old who weighed four hundred and sixty- nine pounds; he would want to see the wild ‘man of ‘Borneo and the two headed calf. From the tire of his arrival at the fair grounds until he reluctantly left them in the evening there would be something to invite the expenditure of money. It was not to be wondered at, therefore, that the boy who did not have any money in his pocket did not care much about going to the fair. If he had any pride he would also want to be well clothed, and most of the boys tried to have a neat new suit to wear to the fair. With a new suit, a liber- al supply of ‘spending money’’ and a con- genial companion or two to share the joy of the day with him, a boy would be about as serenely happy at the fair as it was pos- sible for him to be on earth. It sometimes happened that there were boys who did not know these conditions of happiness. Abel Kent did not know them the fall that he was sixteen years old. In- deed he had never known them. He bad never had a dollar of his own in his life;he had never had « new suit of clothes bought purposely for him; his best clothes were the cast off, ill fitting and faded or ragged garments of others; he had never had so many things that ought to be the rightful heritage of all boyhood. Saddest of all, he had not since his twelfth year known the love of either father or mother. They had always been poor. Mr Kent had been an invalid during the last five years of his life and his little farm had been mortgaged for all that it was worth at the time of his death. His wife had survived.him less than a year, and the selectmen of the town had been about to send Abel to the poor farm when Uriah Ball had offered to give the boy his **keep”’ in return for such work as Abel could do on the farm. It might have been better for Abel to havegone to the poor farm, since he could not have found a harder taskmaster in the keeper of she pone farm than he had found in Uriah Ball. © 5 : The fact that he had two boys of his own about the age of Abel did not make Uriah in the least considerate of the poor boy. He was worked beyond his strength, and the selectmen of the town would probably have interfered had they known the extent to which Uriah abused Abel. The two Ball boys, Sam and Rob, were always un- kind to Abel. They played all sorts of mean and petty tricks on him; they twit- ted him with the fact of his. poverty, and they ridiculed him because of thesorry and even ridiculous figure he cut in their cast- off clothing, If Abel resented these indig- nities the boys would run to their father with complaints,and it would then be worse for Abel. As for taking Abel with them and giving him the enjoyment of the county fair, that was not to be thought of for a moment by the Balls. The boy did not have anything fit to wear, and then some one must remain at home and ‘‘see to things.’ It was a bright and serenely beautiful autumn morning when the Balls, well- dressed, with money in their purses and a great basket of goodies for their dinner in the light wagon, drove away to the fair, leaving Abel alone at home. Mr. Ball’s last words had been : ‘“Now you keep busy, Abe, even if you do stay around the house seeing to things. 1 shall expect to find that little patoh of potaters back of the house all dug when I come home. You can do that by one o'clock, Then in the afternoon you can wheel the winter stovewood from the woodyard into the shed until about three o'clock, when you’d better put some nails in your pocket, and a hammer, and take o!d Pelican and ride over to the west pas~ tare and fix the fence there by the brook where it is down. I want toturn thecows in there tomorrow, and you can fix the fence in a couple of hours if you are right spry and don’t fool away any of your time. Keep busy. I won’t have any lazy folks around me.”’ : “You'll find some bread and milk and a your dinner,” ealled out Mrs. Ball, as the wagon load of happy people drove away for their holiday, leaving Abel alone on the farm. He did not mind being alone, but he felt a sense of disappointment and injustice because he was not to be allowed to go to the fair. Hehad worked very hard and faithfully all summer in the hope that Uriah would appreciate his efforts to please and the real. value of his work, and allow him to go to the fair for one day. Uriah had said once or twice that ‘‘mebbe’’ he would let Abel attend the fair, but when the time had come he had evidently forgotten or had ignored his half promise, for he did not refer to it, and Abel knew that it would be useless for him to speak about it. Rob and Sam had twitted Abel with the fact that he would have to stay at home, and not be ‘‘in it’’ with the other boys who would enjoy the attractions of the fair. “And they say that there is going to be the finest racing at the fair this year that they ever had,” said Bob. He said it be- cause he knew that Abel dearly loved horses, and that nothing aroused his inter- est and enthusiasm more than a well run race. Abel had few earthly possessions, and the one thing hecared most for was Old Pelican,s very large and queer looking old white mule witha black tail and black legs. He was a nondescript and comical looking animal. One ear was gone, and he was a good deal sway backed. He was blind in one eye, and he bad a way of twisting his head to one side and winking the other eye in a way that provoked shrieks of laughter on the part of those who saw him do this for the first time. He was bony and knobby, and the hair was gone from his body in spots. There had been shouts of derisive laughter when he had been offered for sale at the public auction held after the death of Abel’s mother. No one would bid anything for him, and when Abel had come to live with Uriah Ball, Uriah had said that the mule might come at the same time, and he might be able to “‘earn his keep.’”’ Uriah was surprised to discover that Old Pelican greatly belied his looks, and that he was still a very useful animal, He had unusual strength and powers of endurance, and he far more than earned his keep on the farm. In fact Uriah often congratulated himself on coming into possession. of so useful an animal without paying anything for him. Abel was very fond of Qld Pelican. It is not saying too much to say that the for- lorn boy loved the queer looking old mule. He had been associated with the only hap- py days Abel had ever known, the days when he had a father and a mother who loved him, and when, poor and humble as his home was, he was happy in it. No one but Abel himself knew how many times he had stolen out to the Ball stable in his loneliness and his unhappiness and, creep- ing into Old Pelican’s stall. had put his arms around the old mule’s neck and sob- bed out his boyish sorrows. And it was evi- dent that poor Old Pelican bad a great lik- ing for Abel. In his obstreperous moments no one could make him tractable so soon nor so easily as Abel. He had never been known to bite at Abel nor to kick at him, and he would sometimes both bite and kick if Uriah Ball or his boys went near his stall For this reason, Abel had the entire care of Old Pelican, and it was one duty that gave him pleasure. After the Ball family had gone to the fair Abel went out to the stable and told Old Pelican about his latest disappoint: ment and sorrow. The boy had a great longing for sympa- thy and love, and he said with tears in his eyes, to the old mule, while he patted his neck : “You care for me, anyhow, old fellow, don’t you? I wish Icould get on your back and ride away and never come hack to this place. We'll go some day. You don’t belong to Uriah Ball, although he acts as if you did. You are mine, and when I go away from here you shall go too if you are living then. But it isn’t likely”’ Abel said with a fresh note of sorrow in his voice. ‘‘You are getting old, and I am afraid that Uriah is right when he says that you won’t be apt to hold out a great while longer. I shall feel that I have lost my best friend when you are gone, old fel- low.” Then Abel went up to his room in the barn, and taking from the old trunk in which he kept his few belongings a letter, he had read it for perhaps the five hundredth time. The letter was one that had been sent to him soon after the death of his mother. It was from his mother’s brother who lived away out in California. as follows : My DEAR NEPHEW :—1 was sorry to get your letter telling me of the death of my sis- ter Mary. - She was a good woman, and she was a good sister to me when I was a boy. I am sorry to know she was in such poor cir- cumstances that you are left without a home. I£1 had the means to do it I would send for you to come out here and live with me, but I am a poor man myself, with quitea large family. But if you can earn money to pay our way here I will be glad to give you a ome, and I will treat you as one of my own children. You havesix cousins here who would be brothers and sisters to you, and your Aunt Lucy would be a mother to you. We have room in our hearts and in our home for you if you ean come to us. ' It would cost you about forty dollars to get here. If the time comes when I can doit I will send you the money to come and there will be a warm welcome for you any time that youn get here. Your cousins and Aunt Lucy all say for you to. come. ; : PS : Your Uncle, : # 107 JoHN CARTER.” Abel always read this letter when he was gorrowful, and he found in it a glimmer of hope and comfort. Some day he would go to his uncle John, but that day seemed far away. Uriah Ball did not pay Abel wages. He never gave him even ten cents. He tried to make the boy think that he did not earn his board. When he was sullen, which was most of the time, he would de- elare that Abel did not ‘earn his salt.” Abel folded the letter carefully and put it away, saying to himself as be did so: “1 shan't stand this much longer. If I had forty dollars I would put a bullet into 01d Pelican so that: Uriah could not abuse him after I am gone, and then I would light out for California this very hour. A man with Uncle John’s heart wouldn’t mind if I did come to him in shabby clothes, I’ll never stop for clothes if I once get hold of money enough to take me to California.” Abel then went out and hoed potatoes in the burning sun until noon. Then he ate his rather scanty dinner with certain re- flections on the meanness of Mrs. Ball in not leaving him any part of the good things she bad baked to carry to the fair for her own family’s dinner. It was about two o'clock when Abel finished the task of wheeling the wood into the shed. Then piece of pie set out on the kitchen table for It read | he brought Old Pelican out and started for the west pasture to repair the fence. The Bail farm was but two miles from the fair grounds, and Abel rode toward the grounds on his way to the pasture. He had reach- ed a high hill from which he could see, a mile and a half distan:, the fair ground buildings. He conld see flags floating,and he distinctly heard the music of the band in the grand stand. He knew that the rages would follow the band coneert. An overwhelming longing to be a part of that merry and happy throng at the fair took possession of Abel. He did not bave the twenty five cents required for admission to the grounds, and he kuew that there was not a boy inside those grounds so meanly clad as he was. He was barefooted, and and the brim of his straw hat had broken loose from the crown behind, and it flap- ped about his slioulders. He wore nothing but a soiled blue and white hickory shirt and a pair of blue overalls rolled up to his bare knees. No, he could not venture in- side the fair grounds in that plight even if he bad had the price of admission in his pocket. “But I know what I can do,’’ he said to himself. ‘‘I can ride over to the west side of the grounds, and there is a little hill from which I can see the races from Old Pelican’s back. There will not be any one there, for the buildings are all on the oth- er side of the grounds. I can watch the races for an hour or more, and then bave time enough to fix the pasture fence. I'll do it. Get up, Old Pel! We'll see some- thing of the fair in spite of Uriah Ball.” The old mule seemed to enjoy the pros- pect, for he went racing over the road in such a frisky manner that Abel said : ‘Well, well, old fellow; you must feel that extra quart of oats I gave you. don’t know when I have seen you so full of snap.”’ Abel laughed when the old mule kicked up his heels, tossed his head from side to vide and went vaulting airily over the road. They reached the little hill at the back of the grounds in a few minutes, and Abel noticed that the upper part of a wide board forming a part of the high fence was broken off, and that he could get a very good view of the grounds by riding up to this broken board. He would be within a few feet of the racers as they rode by him, and he could see them when they rode to the finish in front of the judges’ stand. The concert had come to an end, and Abel could see horses being ridden into the ring for a race. Suddenly a gate near Abel opened and two or three men came out. One of them burst into a shout of laughter when he saw Abel and Old Pelican. ‘Well, if there isn’t a good candidate for the free-for-all, go-as-you-please race!” cried out the amused young man. ‘If that old muledon’t take the cake for looks ! Isn’t he a dandy ?”’ The other men laughed. and one of them said : “Why don’t you enter him for the great free-for-all, go-as-you-please race? He would create'a sensation, and maybe he would win. His chances would probably be as good as that of some of the other old plugs that are to run. He is certainly more unique in his looks than any of them. I'll tell you what I'll do, boy; I'll give you a brand new dollar bill if you will enter that mule for the free-for-all race. It’s going to be run in about fifteen min- utes, and there is no red tape about enter- ing this race. You just ride in and be ready to start with the others, and if your old crow-bait wins you’ll get fifty dollars.”’ Fifty dollars ! Abel felt his pulse quick- en. His voice trembled with excitement as he said : ‘Is that so?’ “Yes, itis. You can go just as you please—trot, gallop, canter, lope. git-up- and-dust—any way to git there! I'll bet you'd win!’ The lively young man did not really think anything of the sort. His chief ob- ject was to create a great deal of sport by having poor Old Pelican among the list of contestants. Fun was the chief object of this race, and it was sure to bring forth a queer collection of old horses. One man was going to ride a steer in the race, and another man was to enter the race with a pair of goats hitched to a little cart. Still another man was to enter the race on the back of a pig, his only object being to create fun. ; “Bat that astonishing old mule of yours would be the dandy of them all,’’ said one of the men. ‘‘Here is the dollar, if you want to take it and euter the race.” Never in his life had Abel had a dollar at one time. His eves sparkled as he saw the crisp new bill held out towards him. He knew that Old Pelican was wonderful- ly fleet of foot at times, and the old mule seemed to be on his mettle that day. Abel reached out and took the dollar, saying as hedid so : . **All right. You show me how to enter the race aud I'll enter it.”’ : “We'll arrange it all right for you. Come along.” : They opened the gate and Abel rode iu- side the grounds. A few minates later be found himself getting ready for the start in company with the other contestants. A great shout of laughter went up from the grand stand when Abel appeared before it on the back of Old Pelican, but Abel did not care. He set his teeth together and kept saying to himself: : 1 ‘Fifty dollars’! California ! A ‘home where I eau be happy ! Escape from Uriah Bll He leaned forward and patted Old Peli- can’s long and scrawny neck and whisper- “Win if yon can old fellow; win freedom from misery for me.” : Old Pelican twisted his head to one side and winked in a way that caused renewed screams of laughter on the part of those who were. near enough to. see the mule’s comical look. There were ten or twelve contestants, and Old Pelican was the most striking looking one of the lot. « He seem- bent on contributing ail that he could to the merriment of the cccasion, and even Abel laughed at the antics of the mule while waiting for the signal to start. He would bite playfully at the other contest- ants; then he would let his heels fly into the air and cavort around like a frisky cat. ‘| The man who had given Abel the dollar said, with tears of laughter on his cheeks: “I’ve had a dollar’s worth of fun just in watching that old one-eared mule. Some one will have to hold me when he starts off on the race or I shall faint. He beats the band ! Cut up some more, old fellow.” He slapped Old Pelican on the thigh as he spoke, and the mule responded by let- ting his hind leg fly out in a way that would have put an end to the young man’s merriment had he not jumped aside. This created more laughter. Suddenly the signal for starting was given, All of the contestants but Old Pelican started around the ring, but, to Abel’s chagrin and dismay, Old Pelican simply ran aroubd and around in a circle, snorting and kicking until the other con- testants were fully filty yards ahead. Then the old mule suddenly “lit out,’”’ as Abel said afterward. He stretched out his long neck, laid back his one ear, showed all of his big yellow teeth, and went leaping and bounding over the track in a way that would have unseated a less experienced rider than Abel. In less than three min- utes he was neck and neck with the horses, and three minutes later the mule and a huge, raw-boned old roan horse, ridden by a boy of about Abel’s age, were ten feet in advance of the other riders. They rode side by side for a third of the way around the track, and then Old Pelican fell be- hind a little, but he was still ahead of the other contestants. When they were a hundred yards from the grandstand the big roan was fully fifteen feet ahead of the mule. Abel leaned forward and patted the mule’s neck, saying as he did so: “Go it, Pel ! Go it, old boy ! me! Go it for—’ He had to drop his whip suddenly and cling to the old mule’s neck to keep from falling, for the old fellow suddenly plung- ed forward in long leaps, his breath going ‘‘chug, chug, chug,” every time his fore- feet touched the ground. In an instanthe was neck and neck with the big roan, then he was half a length ahead, then a length, then he shot under the rope and gavea kick into the air that seemed to be a deri- sive sign of triumph. [It created a perfect pandemonium of merriment among the spectators, but Abel heeded it not. He jumped from the mule, put his arms around the poor old fellow’s neck and kiss- ed his long face. . Those who stood nearest saw that there were tearsin the boy’seyes. Suddenly Uriah Ball came from the grandstand across the track to the judges’ stand. ‘‘Here, I'll take that money,’’ he said to Anson Hoopes, the judge, who was about to hand the purse containing the fifty dol- lars to Abel. ‘‘The boy lives with me, yon know, and that mule is the same as my own.” Abel suddenly became bold and defiant. *“The mule is not his!’ he cried out. ‘‘He is mine, and the mouey is mine !”’ ““The boy is right,’’ said Anson Hoopes. “He simply lives with you, Uriah Ball. He has never been bound out to you. And the mule is his. You have no right toa cent of the money.’ “Ain’t I had to keep both the boy and the mule for several years !’> asked Uriah. “And baven’t you boasted about how much more useful the mule had been than you thought he would be?’’ asked Anson Hoopes, who was. one of the.sclectmen of the town. “I guess that both the boy and the mule bave far more than earned their keep. Here, boy; this money is yours. Take it and keep it.”’ The crowd cheered, and some hissed the furious Uriah as he went back to the grand- stand after saying : “I’11 git the money yit if I bave to hide the boy into giving it up.” Abel mounted the mule and rode home- ward with the money in his pocket. Just when he had dismounted in the Ball farm- yard poor Old Pelican stretched out his neck, winked, staggered and fell to the ground dead. With tears streaming down his cheeks Abel knelt heside the old mule. Presently he said : “I am glad ot it, after all, poor old fel- low. I'd rather see you dead here than to leave you to be abused by the Balls. Good- bye.” When the Balls came home Abel was gone, and his few belongings were gone with him. When Anson Hoopes and’ his family came home in the evening they found Abel sittibg on their doorstep wait- ing for them. “You were so kind in standing up for me the way you did to-day that it made me think that you would lec me stay here to-night,’’ said Abel. “Why, of course you can stay, Abel,” said Mr. Hoopes, heartily. ‘‘You have left Uriah Ball, have you? I guess it was a good thing to do, and I'll see to it that you don’t go back there to have him ‘hide’ you into giving up that money.’ Then Abel showed his uncle’s letter, and Mr. Hoopes said : “‘Go right out to California by all means, my boy. I will help you about getting off. It is the very thing to do.” Three days later Abel, neatly dressed in a new suit presented to him by Mr. Hoopes, and with a great basket of delicious lunch provided by Mrs. Hoopes, started on his journey to California. The train ran di- rectly in front of the Ball farmhouse, and Abel, who had a forgiving spirit, stood out on the platform and waved his handker- chief in friendly farewell to the Ball fam- ily assembled on the porch. Uriah shook his clenched fist in return, and said some- thing that Abel did not hear, and that he did not want to hear.—By Morris Wade, in the Ledger Monthly. Win for Florida Oranges. The freezes of 1894 and 1895 killed most of Florida’s orange trees down to the roots, but did not kill the roots, and sprouts since 1894 have grown into bearing trees. So general is this fact that Florida's orange crop this winter is expected to be about 1,- 000,000 boxes, and will-be twice as much next year. There is'no orange equal to the Florida orange in flavor and deliciousness, 80 that it commands a good price. This year’s crop will bring, it is believed, about’ $1.75 a box. In these cases the profit may be as much as iu 1893-4 when the crop was 6,- 000,000 boxes. . California oranges are good but the Florida orange is better. Accord- ing to the Louisville Courier Journal ‘‘the Florida orange is the queen of the fruits. Ponce de Leon searched the peninsula over for the fabled fountain of youth without success, but a wiser man would have been content with ‘the first orange grove. The tropics produce nothing else so delicious, so refreshing, so pleasing ' to the eye, so se- ductive tothe nostrils and so ravishing to the taste.” 'L_Fire early Sunday morning destroy- ed the machinerv and carriage and storage house and residence occupied by W.F. Slagle and owned by George W. Sterner ; the tin shop of George Meyer, the livery stable of William A. Hartzell and a barn owned by F. P. Billmeyer and occupied by E. Woolsey. The barns of C. B. Lutz, L. N. Meyer and M. G. Quick were also Badly burned. The total loss is estimated at $22,000. Slagle’s loss is $7,000; Hart- zell’s, $5,500 ; Meyer's $3,000 ; Sterner’s $3,000 ; Woolsey’s, $500 ; Billmeyer, $800. The fire is su ed to have origi- nated in Slagle’s place by the explosion of a barrel of gasoline. Forgot Himself. Wife—‘‘My dear, you haven’ta cold, have you?" Husband—*'No.”’ ‘‘Any headache ?”’ “None at all.” ‘‘Rhenmatism 2?” ‘‘Not a particle.’ “You don’t think it will rain, do you ?”’ “No danger. Why?” “This is Sunday, and it’s most. church time.”’ About the Chinchilla. Whence it Comes, What it Eats How it is Entrapped One of Fashion’s Fine Furs. A Pelt that is Found in America but is Used Wherever Women Dress in Height of the. Current Styles. Very few people seem to know much about that finest and most delicate of furs, the chinchilla. Were it not for its lack of durability, the skin being thin and light, this loveliest of pelts would be more used for whole garments. As it is, most of us are content to have it for collar and revers, facings, collarettes, and muffs. It is ex- pensive to start out with, about the price of a sealskin, and doubly so, when you consider that its wearing qualities are quite below seal. But it 18 lovely and becom- ing, and when you. consider. that it. will last a number of seasons if no strain be put upon it, you can’t wonder that so much of it is sold. Some make the mistake of thinking that yellowish, or dull gray, or greasy skinsare imitations; rather are they the coats of dif- ferent sorts of chinchillas whieh come from Chile, Buenos Ayres aud La Plata. The real chinchilla, the sort which is worth having, and which has made this fur fash- ionable, comes from the mountainous dis- tricts of Peru and Bolivia, the very choicest being caught near Arica—the place, yon’ll remember, where Daudet was having Jean go as consul when the now famous Sapho disappointed him. The perfidious Pizarro found the Incas wearing garments of this exquisite fur, and also, no doubt, he had his own coats lined with it, just as he lined his pockets with the gold of his most noble vietim. The chinchilla, rodent that it is, lives upon vegetable matter, and is about nine inches in length. The tail measures five or six inches, and the ears, which are al- most hairless, are rather large, broad and silky. Grey is the color of the far, with blue for the ground color. The light parts are a slate-white, while down the back it is of a dark blue or black cast. HOW CHINCHILLAS ARE CAUGHT. While the half savage South American Indiansstill do the catching of these nimble and cautious animals, they no longer sur- round their holes in the earth with a net- work of cactus upon which the poor little things used to impale themselves after be- ing lured out and scared into trying to es- cape. Besides this punctured the skin, mak- ing it less valuable. Then they tried smoking them out, but is turned the skin yellow. Now they use dynamite ! Having located their victims they form a network of grasses and hardy plants around a hill on the side of which the chinchilla burrows. A dynamite cartridge with a fuse attached is then discharged in the centre of the network. and the poor little things are frightened into running out and scampering about, when the In- diaus dash into the enclosure with clubs, and kill them by striking them on the head. To date this is counted the best way out of a bad job; it is a quick death, and does not damage the skins, which bring up to $15. The skins are immediately removed and placed on bushes to try, the Indians often making their next meal from their hide- less victims. Some Indians hunt them with ferrets. In New Amsterdam. New Year's With the Dutch Settlers. When our Dutch ancestors debarked from the Half Moon iu the harbor of Man- hattan, it was the year 1614. And they brought with them from thei¥ native Hol- land nothing of that spirit of religious in- tolerance which distinguished the New Eugland Puritans who came six years later, says the Utica Observer. In fact, they were denounced by their Yankee neighbors as a ‘‘godless crew,” but it is now plain that they loved their homes and families, they forgave their enemies, and they fanned to flame the spark of national honor which they possessed. When Peter Stuyvesant came to New Amsterdam as Governor 1n 1647, he was quickly dubbed “Old Silverleg’” because he was a veteran who had given a leg to the cause of his country and replaced it with a substantial wooden one bound with silver. Though Governor Stuyvesant was a harsh and cruel man, all accounts agree that he was a good ruler, but in 1664 one day when a British fleet appeared off the coast of New Amsterdam and demanded its surrender ‘'Old Silverleg”’ was forced to yield, his people refusing to fight. So the British took possession of the island of Manhattan and christened it New York, the same being the egg from which is hatch- ed that Greater New York which to-day stands forth the second city in ‘the world. But what did our Dutch ancestors do to distinguish themselves? Well, they kept Christmas and New Year's day, both of | which ‘were frowned upon by the Mass- achusetts Puritans. On New Year's morn- ing the old Dutch burgher would start forth from his own door and visit his veigh- bors, collecting all the money due him fiom the solvent debtors and forgiving the insolvent ones, and, having drunk number- less mugs of punch with the solvent and insolvent alike, he returned to his home a better man, more forgiving in spirit and (whisper this!) ‘more religions minded. than his Puritan neighbor who had spent: the day. precisely as he spends every other weekday in the year. ea : Why have we forgotten the example of our Datch ancestors? We all keep the Fourth of July, sacred to liberty. We all. the pilgrim fathers perhaps, but more out of gratitude to the Giver of all good things. We all keep Christmas out of love of Him we keep New Year's? Ave we recreant sons of our Dutch ancestors who first set- tled New Amsterdam? Soe ot ais aie lis Opportunity. Miss Atkyns—Do you know. sometimes it seems to me that the prettiest girls marry the homeliest men ? ; Mr. Wilkyns (promptly )—Am I home- ly enongh for you, Miss Atkyns? a Here's Good Luck. The touch of a hand, the glance of an eye, Or a word exchanged with a passer-by ; A glimpse of a face in.u crowded street , And afterward life is incomplete : A picture painted with honest zeal And we lose the old for the new ideal ; A chance remark or a song's refrain, And life is never the same again. A friendly smile, and love's embering spark Leaps into flame and illamines the dark : A whispered “Be brave” to our fellow men And they pick up the thread of hope again. Thus never an act or a word or thought But that with unguessed importance is fraught’ For small things build up eternity And blazen the way for destiny. — Answers, —~—Suheribe for the WATCHMAN. brought to him. keep Thanksgiving day out of respect to whose birth it commemorates. Why don’t. The Carrier and the Country. In his annual report Postmaster General Smith lingers lovingly over rural free de- livery. There are now, or were on Nov- ember‘ 15th, 2,614 rural frée delivery routes and they serve 801,524 persons. The appropriation for this purpose for the current year is $1,750,000. Mr. Smith es- timates that for $12,000,000 more there could be practically a daily delivery of mail at every door in the United States. He says that rural free delivery increases correspondence and postal receipts, raises the value of farms, checks migrations from country to town, cannot he given up and must be extended. This enthusiasm is creditable to the Postmaster General, who wishes to give a daily mail to everybody aud to put the re- motest part of the country on a substantial equality with the cities so far as mail de- livery is concerned. But we do not un- derstand that free delivery is in the nature of a right or even of a necessity either in city or country. Itisa great convenience in the former, where the concentration of population makes it easy and, considering the great number of persons served, inex- pensive. In a sparsely settled country it can be accomplished only at a great loss; and the quickening of the spirit of corre- spondence thereby has no effect upon the postal receipts proportionate to the outlay incurred. At the same time, if the country people want it, they will get it; and for the sake of the postal revenues it is to he hoped that the extension of it may he made very gradually. Mr. Smith’s generous dream of prophecy of a daily delivery for everybody should he some time in coming to fulfilment, for $12,000,000 makes a huge hank of an appropriation. It is unfortunately or fortunately true that all of the country grows urban. Looking forward to the twentieth century we seem to see a land of endless railroads and trolleys, a people arrayed in garments of a fashionable cut, the farmer shooting along in his automobile, the letter carrier trudging over the lava beds, the remaining Indians playing golf. But the farmer who does not live 1n the heart of a village, the necessarily rather isolated farmer of to-day, must have changed his nature greatly if he had not rather go for his mail than have it brought him. The village postoffice and the village store are his exchange, his club, his Rialto. There he meets his townsmen, cracks his joke, tells his tale, forecasts the weather with an unerring eye, discusses crops and prices and politics, cows, sheep and horses, steers and shoats, and pretty much every- thing else from Calviniem to catnip. There he buys and sells and swaps. There is his liveliest hour of the week or day, not even excepting his nooning between services on Sundays. Some day some young Daniel or ancient Solomon will try to set down a mi'lionth part of the wit, the humor, the shrewdness, the general peep into the uni- verse of the farmers at the postoffice and fhe store; and that will be a book to uy. It may be that the farmer has changed. Often he is too busy to go to the post office and he may be eager to have his mail People are much alike anyway and more alike now than ever. Still, we believe the farmer to be wise and therefore we cannot helieve he is in a fe- verish anxiety to get his mail. This is or should be a vice of cities. In the country there should be more time, more delibera- tion a greater kindness to the nerves. A wan should not get a letter too often. The edge of his seusibilities should not be nicked ; and if he be a good man and true, he should turn over a letter a half dozen times, investigate the superseription and postmark carefully, and prolong the min- ute of opening with the formula ‘‘‘I won- der who it's from.”’—New York Sun. No Plumage on Hats. Milliners Will Have to Use Something Else. The State game commissioners say that the game dealers of the state will not be the only persons affected by the Lacey bill. The provisions go further. They will affect dealers in plamage birds. The bill seems to be one of the most im- portant legislative measures that has yet been enacted in this country for bird pro- tection. Its main object is to prevent the shipment of illegally killed birds or game from one state to another, and its practical enforcement makes shippers, carriers or re- ceivers of such birds liable to prosecution. The possibilities of seizing plume birds illegally killed in southern states, even after they have reached the hands of north- ern millinery agents, is at once apparent. As a matter of fact the leading wholesale milliners of the eastern cities. when visited by Dr. T. S. Palmer, of the United States department of agriculture, have willingly agreed to purchase no more gulls, tern, ai- grettes, pelicans, grebes, or song birds; thus apparently settling for all time the use of American wild birds in mil linery. ! Careful watch will be kept in the cities of Pennsylvania for violations of the Lacey law and if any dealer is found disposing of the birds illegally he will be at once prose- cuted. ; Formerly thousands of birds from the southern states were sent north at all times. of the year and scores of pothunters made profitable living shooting them ana ship- ping them in open violation of the laws of their own states and of Pennsylvania. ‘The loss throngh the sale of birds can easily be made up by the milfiners along other lines, and none of them have shown a de- sire to test the law as the game dealers are determined on doing. The milliners bave been greatly influenced by influential members of the Pennsylvania’ Audubon’ society, working ‘in this state and else- where. i : The game dealers, who have determined | to test the constitutionality of the law, will have a hard row to hoe. The promoters of the bill, when it came before congress, had the most renowned legal authorities in the country pass upon it and in all cases their verdict was that as a law it conld be made operative and effective. 4 er 4 11 THOUSANDS SENT INTO EXILE.—Every year a number of poor sufferers whose 1nngs are sore and racked with coughs are urged to go to another climate. But this is costly and not always sure. Don’t be an exile when Dr. King’s New Discovery for Consumption will cure you at home. It’s the most infallible medicine for Coughs, Colds and all lung and throat diseases. The first dose brings relief. Astounding cures result from persistent use. Trial bottles free at Green’s. Price 50cts. and $1.00. Every bottle gnaranteed. ——Miss Margaret Coyne, a young lady of North Scranton, has received word that Dr. F. B. Smith, late of Philadelphia, whom she nursed six years ago during a lengthy illness, had left her $20,000 in his will. She is a graduate of the University hospital, Philadelphia, and the daughter of a poor miner. = Lear
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers