| Bellefonte, Pa., November 8, 190L. TO-DAY. You're going to start for the top of the hill And blazon your name in the world ; All obstacles passed by the strength of your will, Your banner, triumphant unfurled. You'll fling to the hreezes that flow from the sky, And never earth-tainted, you say ; "Tis noble and grand and delightful ; but why— | But why don’t you do it to-day The good that you think and the good that you do Are millions of long miles apart ; What good to the earth, if you're good and you're true— But never outside of your heart? The generous deeds you intend to perform Are’all very lovely, but say : While your soul is so high and your heart is so warm, Why don’t yon perform them to-day ? —8San Francisco Bulletin. SCARLET AND GOLD. Scarlet and gold the leaves are turning, And gray are the days, for the year is old, And chill is the heart, for the ways are cold, While the year lies low with its death-lights burning. Chill as the snow, the north winds spurning, Shudders the dusk when the dawns unfold ; Scarlet and gold the l2aves are turning, And gray are the days, for the year is old. And the wildwood sings with a voice of mourn- ing, And the woodbird wings to a new freehold ; And a dream of the June, like a tale new told, Dimmeth the eyes with a mist of yearning. Scarlet and gold the leaves are turning, And gray are the days, for the year is old. —Ray Clarke Rose. IN THE TRENCH. Soaking rains and sodden grounds; a small barrier of upturned sod, looking as if an anchor from a balloon had scooped up a few yards of soil and then soared upward again. Behind this little hummock two men are lying flat on their faces, while a third figure is doubled up and forms a sup- port for the rifle. He lies absolutely still, has been dead for hours, with a bullet through his brain. Getting cramped be- yond endurance, he had, in spite of his companions’ remounstrances, insisted on. ris- ing and stretehing his limbs, and, as they predicted, fell back dead. ; The two living men are filthy and in rags; their boots, half torn from their feet, look like those forlorn leather mysteries one finds in ditches and out of the way places, always suggestive of some tragedy or of thieving tramps who may have dis- carded them for a less hopeless pair which they have managed to collect on their rounds. It is hard to tell which of the men is the elder; each one is sun burned and grimmed with dirt; two weeks’ growth on cheek and chin makes their sunken faces positively ferocious; their eyes have a hungry gleam. It is days since they have had a meal, sub- sisting on ration buscuits, wore resembling dog’s food than aught else; but they have carefully nibbled at these to eke out sus- tenance. For eight long hours these men have lain in this shallow trench, so hollow that when bullets come whistling over their heads their faces are pressed into the loose earth for protection. The aching from cold and cramp is becoming well nigh unendurable and now and then one or the other casts a glance toward the crushed and twisted form heside them with an expression of envy, as if it suggested a welcome thought. But British gentlemen, privates though they are, and bearing no other mark of dis- tinction than their well bred voices, they are not veady to give up their lives without a struggle. Curzon, the elder man of the two, manag- es, with a great effoit, to get his pipe alight. ‘‘Hold on 1 bit, Mortlake,” he says to his companion, ‘‘and you shall have a pull. presently.’’ “I'd give my soul for a cigarette and a B. and S.,”’ groans Mortlake. “‘Pipe’s better, old man; rain can't put it out so quick.” ‘Well, while you are getting your whiff, I'}1 take a pot at the beggars, then you can take a tnrn at this business,” raising him- sell gingerly and sighting his rifle as le 8 r In another moment he tumbles back, knocking the pipe and its precious contents out of Curzon’s mouth. “Good God. Morty, you're not done for?” gasps Cur- zon. ‘‘Guess gc,’ feebly from Mortlake. “‘Got any stuff in your flash 27’ “Only a drop, cursed luck as it is,”” and without a moment’s hesitation he whips out a flask and holds it to the white lips of his friend. “That’s enough, that’s enough; don’t pour all the precious stuff down my throat. I may: be dead in ten minutes and youn’ll need it more than I wili.”? f ‘No nonsense, old man ; try and wriggle around so that I can see what the damage ig; such a tiny hole it must be; wish I could stop the blood. In your side? Here ? Bad —does it hurt 2” a “Not much, feel sick and queer; think P'ni oft? Hope not. Got'a lot to live for; . & pause. ‘How does afellow feel when he is going? Don’t know—of conrse yon don’t; do 1 look like it? Now Curzon, don’t get up, you can’t mend matters, and if you'were hit and I was left alone I shounld go mad, ugh!” wil REGIES SROTIIN “What is it, Morty? Pain?" { **No, I forgot the poor devil under me, and his face is cold and wet, his boot is just Ain the small of my back,” . : : Carzon | moves the dead man's leg hy pushing sideways with his foot; Mortlake grows deadly pale during the operation. *"Is there any blood coming now, Curzon ? Feel as if I were soaked in it’? No, old fellow; keep up your courage for the mater’s sake.’ A moment of terrible silence while } Curzon curses himself for a fool for hav- ing mentioned the mater’s name, Mort- Jake, with a cnrions note in his voice says : “You were ‘always wanting me to keep up something for her ‘sake, weren't you ?' Phat Ly ‘Oh, yes; you're right there; but don’t get reminiscent and sentimental; keep up; don’t. imagine it’s a dangerous wound.’ “Well, is Jan as well these times to be ready to send in your checks; I never Shouglis Ta get we; fellow never does; al- ways looks to'see’ the next poor cha down insted, Remember ‘the dance pid the Vernos’ thie night before we sailed ? Gad, BO {ve shafed about this ‘picnic,’ as we called it. Never thought of this kind, of thing; | call this war. © Why, here we are shooting out:of the graves we have started | to dig for ourselves, and shosting men ‘we ms have never laid eyes on, beastly impolite, I call it, with these long range rifles. Won- der if T hit any one hefore they bagged me?’ Curzon reaches carefully for the pipe, | which is almost covered with mud, and tries to relit the smouldering embers. ‘*Got a light or a bit of paper about you, Morty ? If I could get this blooming thing to go. a whiff would do you good—a letter. Ah, thanks ! The envelope is damp; can I use one inside sheet? Scent. Good Lord, how funny it seems.”’ ‘‘You can have it, Caizon, old fellow,’ and Mortlake's face grows graver as he i speaks, ‘‘but I promised the little girl who wrote it tc keep it forever; keep a bit, and if I'm knocked out send it to her. Know her address, I expect. Think I’m a fool. perbaps? Well, the truth is, I’m not com- fortable in my mind about that little epi- sode; awfully unsophisticated little girl, and perhaps I did run her a bit bard (my old way, you say); hang it all, Ididn’t mean to win her young affections, but lnck was against us. Country house party, two weeks constantly thrown together, and then the excitement of coming out here, tears and a scene; lost my head; couldn’t seem a brute, so played the game; exchang- ed rings, wrote foolish letters, tragic good- by, and here we are.”? Curzon, gravely—*‘‘Morty, you are incor- rigible; where is her ring? You would like me to send it if—that is, you would | like her to have it again if things don’t come right.”’ ‘‘Bet 1 would; she has got the ring that dad left me—family heirloom and all that. The mater will want my younger brother to have itif I get out.” With great difficulty he gets at a chain to which 1s attached a medley of articles, and among them was a magnificent ring of opals and diamonds. Curzon stretches out his ‘hand to take it, giving a hearty grasp to the shaking hand that delivers the heavy gold circlet. An instant later his eyes light on the ring, ‘a’ carious sound comes from between his teeth, which are closed i over the pipestem. ‘*Not hit, Curzon ?’ Mortlake. ‘No; keep ‘quiet, you fool, you will hurg yoursell.”’ The tone is stern, and Mortlake wriggles back in: his old posi- tion* i There is a long silence; then, *‘Morty, lad, you never gave me the address, and I shall have to get your ring for your moth- er”? “Oh, the address is inside the letter. As for my ring, I'trust you to get me out of this final scrape, as you have done so many othersin days gone hy.” Curzon suddenly asks: “‘I wonder if I know her?” “Oh, yes; of course you do, old chap. She told me your place in Scotland was quite near her father’s, and that you had known her as a child. Cecil Vereker; you must remember her.” For a moment there is a dead silence, Curzon grips his rifle until the veins of his hand stand out like whipeord, and mutters under his breath : ‘‘Known her as a child ! The unsophisticated little country flower. Good God, and this is how the ting I gave her comes back to me. Wonder if the ring I left her is guarding the heirloom of the Mortlake family, and if other men’s trinkets are hanging ou my watch chain? Heaven above —‘nnsophisticated I’ Shall I tell him ? Better not; if he must go, let him go believing her to be what he thinks her. If he lives—well, if he lives, as there is a Ged in heaven she will have tell him. Bah !—and te think 1’ : ‘Curzon, do you think the end is near? I am getting awfully cold shivers down my back. What is the chance of our getting out of this infernal hole alive?’ ‘Our chance depends upon how the mounted troops draw them off to the right. Take my coat. Morty; I don’t feel cold, can wiggle out of it.” **No, hang it. Iam not as selfish as all that, Curzon, I'eel my head, a hit light, this place is becoming a well. Can’t see clearly. Is this—how it comes?" ‘Nonsense, man; pull yourself together. You'll pull through all right.” His voice had a terrible anxious ring, however. **The whisky has gone to your head. You want a meal, that’s what vou want, #nd warn blankets. I’ve seen men live to a hale old age with a wad of lead in their insides.” “I don’t believe there is any left inside, seems to have gone clean through, and ex- pect that internal hem—"’ “Shut up Morty. Keep up your old- time grit. Think T hear a horse galloping, and no man would be such an ass if they are not retreating.” Looks carefully out, then ducks. ! “Jove, it is a mounted officer, and there come stretcher hearers. Hold up, old wan; we'll fix yon all right.’’ Shouts for streteh- er bearers, waving his hat on his rifle. Two minutes later five ‘men are bending over Mortlake; one a surgeon, making a hasty examination of wound, cutting away uniform. Curzon kneels beside his friend who writhes with pain, his lips pressed be- tween his teeth, as the hypodermic syringe i= quickly called into service. Bullets begin to plow up the earth close to the little group, ‘‘Curse the cowards; they always aim at the bearers,” growls one man. ; Surgeon--**All’ right here. Lucky es- cape for the lad, clean; fresh wound. Can't spare much blood though; looks as if he needed blood.” © “Thank God,” from Curzon. From Mortlake, faintly: “Afraid I made a bit of an asa of myself, old chap.” Surgeon— ‘Move on, men; getting too liot; try and get him out of harm’s way.” The bearer sinks to the ground with a bullet in bis ankle. Curzon rises and takes his place ‘hurriedly; lays Mortlake gently on the stretcherand they move off; the ring still in Carzon’s hand, pressing into the palm as the weight of the stretcher begins totell, "= fn VE Ren Selin “Stop a second,” he calls'to ‘the frou bearer; ‘‘must shift’ weight a bit; am fear- fully stiff," then he draws a long breath- squaring his hroad shoulders and stretch- ing his Timbs with delight. “This is bet- ter than that sodden hole; bullets or no bullets, one is a man again.” ‘Curzon, for God's sake hurry,” comes in feeble tones from the stretcher. ; At that moment Curzon pitches head- long in the mud. The ring from his open hand rolls to oné side, the surgeon steps up to take his place, and his foot presses the shining jewels deep into the African mud, mixed now in a red paste. Gives one look at the face as he turns Curzon over. } . “Devils—elean through the heart, a ‘brave man gone; can you stand a trot, man ? Our only chance.” The surgeon. does not wait for an answer, but takes the handles of the stretcher and heads for ‘the nearest dressing station. bi natdoTy Curzon sleeps undisturbed on the dark- ening veldt, with his outstretched hand Pointing towards the buried ring.—Lally Bernard in New York Post. a almost sereams ———Suhseribé for the WATCHMAN. Looking and Keeping Well. Always, When Standing or Walking, Hold Yourself as Erect as Possible. The carriage aud position of the hody, | during both the day and the night, have much to do with one’s figure, health and appearance. How quickly one can dis- tinguish an army or navy officer on the street, though he is a stranger! How many would give a fortune to possess such a figure and bearing! And yet almost anyone who has not some natural deformity can acquire it, by observing a few simple rules and practicing a few easy exercises. As you know. it takes but a few weeks, or months, of discipline and drill to change uncouth, slonch, raw recruits, into fine, erect, and dignified soldiers. Always, when standing or walking, hold yourself as erect as possible; throw the shoulders back and down, elevate the chest a little, and draw the chin in a trifle. When standing, the weight of the body | should fall upon the hall of the foot, neith- er upon the heel nor the toe. No one can have a good figure without throwing the chest well forward. the shoul- ders back and down, and carrying the hody in au erect position. Follow these simple rules strictly, and you will greatly improve your figure and bearing. Do not bend the legs too much when | walking, and let the weight fall slightly more on the heel first. Swing the arms naturally, bat not too much. - Be careful not to bob up and down when walking. A graceful walker seems to glide along easily. Curves are always gracefnl, and an angular, jerky movement is always ungainly. Grace is an acquirable quality, but we must remember that nature abhors angles and spasmodic movements: she always uses curves. which are most graceful and delicate. The reason why woman is more heantiful than man is because her form is made up of graceful curves. There are no angles whatever in a model female figuie. Most people, when sitting, slouch at the { waist; in fact, this fanlt is very nearly uni- versal, except in those who have heen train- ed. Itis impossible to slouch about on chairs or on a sofa all day, and then ex- pect to have a good bearing and poise when standing or walking. Again, slouchy posi- tions will very soon react upon the mind, and produce mental shiftlessness and slouchiness in thought. * Every faculty and function sympathizes with every other, and a defect in one af- fects all. No one can do good reading, writing, or thinking, in any but an erect position. The thought immediately sym- pathizes with the body. A habit of reading in bed, or when lying down, or in a careless position, slouching down in one’s chair with the feet up, will very soon tell upon the quality of the thoughts. It is impossible to do good thinking in these positions. The body must be in an erect and dignified posture without being cramped by position or dress. No onecan think without freedom and ease of hody.——Suecess. Storms and Signs. Cole's Predictions for the Month of November. November will prove a peculiar month. The ‘‘live’’ ays of the sun coming in con- tact with the pent up or dead rays, will cause strange phenomena, sun dogs, and a strange appearing hazy at atmosphere. We may also look for several beautiful me- teoric displays this month. While some sections are enjoying sunshine and sum- mer-like weather other sections will have rain, bail, snow, slush and high winds, ete. The regular and local disturbance period are all marked on our Storms and Sigus calendar. Price 19 cents. The greatest danger from regular storm periods during the month will be between the 20d and 8th, 16th and 21st, and during the last few days of the month, and from reaction: ary storm periods from the 10th to the 14th, 22nd to the 27th. Let sailors on the ocean and great lakes taking warning; all people living along the sea coast shonld also wateh out. Forest and prairie fires will do great damage. Earthquakes will be liable to occur hoth in the old country and United States. Watch out for an epidemic that will sweep the country, at- tacking the head, throat, lungs or howels of man and heast. The germ will he a cross between the la-grippe and the fever gern. Cutting Down the Time. As the messenger boy walked slowly along the street, glancing up at the num- hers on the houses, he was accosted hy a gentleman who was sitting upon a picket fence. : ‘Telegram for John Banks, my lad 2’? called out the gentleman. ‘‘Damfino,”’ said the boy pulling out a dirty cigarette paper and a sack of tobacco, **'somepin’ like that.” 1 “Well, I guess the telegram. belongs to me,”’ said the gentleman pulling the bed quilt closer around iis shoulders for the night was extremely cold. “I’ve Leen waiting on this fence for it for the last four hows, | Bring it here, Fleetwings.”’ ‘Whatcha heen waitin on the fence fer 2” asked the boy. *‘Didn’tcha know I coulda brung it to de door?’ Haid vo Certainly, my lad,’ answered the gen: tleman, ‘‘but that’s not the question. That telegram is yery important and think of the time you would have consumed in walking fron the gate to the front door. * Why, hoy that two hours might have meant a million loss to me.”’—From the Jadianapolis Sun. : er =a 4 1 Our Nation's Dead, “In seventy-nine separate and ‘distinct National cemeteries the hodies of nearly 800,000 soldiers, who died during the Civil Wan, are interred, and the decoration of their graves with flowers on a fixed day has become a National custom. Some of the cemeteries contain each'a silent army of over 10,000 soldiers, in serried ranks, marked by the white headstones, on near- iy balf of which is inscribed “Unknown.” The world may be searched in vain for ‘anything similar.or kindred. There is no other such impressive . sighti~Seribuer’s Magazine. a as mi Buffalo BUYS and Forepaugh & Scll’s Clrenses in Wrecks, . Oue hundred. and ten horses of Buffalo Bill's Wild West show were crushed to death in a rail) wreck near Lexington, N. C., Thursday morning." Among them was Old Pap, Colonel Cody’s favorite sad- dle horse. Old Eagle, the star ring horse, was killed and his mangled body fell on ‘top of one of ‘the wrecked ‘engines. The ‘mules that drew the Deadwood ‘coach were also killed. | Cody says his loss. is. $60,000. . Forepaugh & Sell’ circus was also wreck- ed at Baton Rouge, La., Thursday. Three men were seriously : Spr escaped but were afterward cor- raled. i Iy hurt ‘and several Jealous Man’s Double Crime. Kills His Sweetheart and Himself in a Maryland Town--Tragic Occurrence on a Public Thorough- fare. i Furious because she scorned his love Elmer A. Pryor on Wednesday shot and killed his sweetheart, Miss Effie A. David- son, and then ended his own life. { The tragedy occurred on West Main street, Elkton, Md., in full view of a large number of people. Pryor also fired two shots at Miss Mary R. Davidson, his sweet- | heart's sister, but the bullet went wide. {Pryor was 32 years old and his victim 23. For a long time he had been paying atten- tion to her and was very jealous because i she would not reciproeate his attention, | She endeavored to induce him to cease call- ing upon her, but he would not do so. He insisted upon calling and several times had threatened to kill her if she were not more kind to him. Tuesday night Pryor met the girl on the | street and was heard to tell her that he i would kill her. Tuesday morning he en- i tered the store of Roger Witworth and pur- chased sowe cartridges for a 38 calibre re- { volver. Then he walked out into West Main street and waited for the girl, know- ing that she would pass that way or her way to the shirt factory, where she was em- ployed. He was too late to intercept her in the morning, and at the dinner hour he did not molest her as she went home. Daisy Cannon, appeared. The girls saw Pryor on the opposite side of the street. “He's waiting for you, Effie,”’ said Miss Cannon, who knew of her friend’s fear of the man. ‘Let's walk right on and pay uo attention to him.”’ This advice might have saved the unfor- tunate girl’s life, but she did not take it. She said she was afiaid that if she did not cross the street and speak to the man he i A few minutes hefore 1 o'clock the girl, | i in company with her sister Mary and Miss | would kill her. And so hating and fear- | ing the man whom she dared not pass un- | noticed, the girl went to her doom. She | crossed the street and, trying to smile, en- tered into conversation with her lover. i What the conversation was can never be known. As the vouuger sister came np Pryor suddenly drew a revolver from his pocket, and, swearing he would kill both the women. fired at Mary Davidson. The shot missed its mark and he fired again, and again missed. The girl whose life was so strangely sav- ed, took to flight screaming for help and not daring to look back Pryor immediate- ly turned to his sweetheart, who had not stirred except to turn her back to him. He placed the muzzle of the revolver elose to her back and fired. She fell, dying, hav- ing been shot through the lung. Pryor then placed the muzzle of the weapon in his month, pointing it upward, and sent a bullet into his brain. A number of men, hurrying to the rescue, arrived on the scene just as he breathed his last. The man and woman were lying to- gether on thesidewalk. Tender hands lift- ed her form and hore her into the building of the Kenmore Pulp and: Paper-company, where she hieathed her last before a physi- cian arrived. Pryor’s maniacal deed was due solely to jealousy. He was quiet, industrions and well liked at the pulp mill, where he was a watchman, and in the matter of his affec- tion only did he ever display any desperate quality. He was made a maniac because of unrequited love. He was a member of the Order of American Mechanics, and Tuesday evening paid his dues in full. Miss Davidson was an orphan, and two younger sisters survive her. Phenomenal Memories, Many of the greatest men have phe- nomenal memories. Cesar knew the names of thousands of soldiers in his legions. A modern man of seience often bad a prodig- ious memory for special terminology. Pro- fessor Asa Gray assured me that he could at once recall the names of something like 25,000 plants: Professor Theodore Gill can do the same of fishes. Our memory for mere words is itself much more extensive than is generally admittted. The average well to do child of two years of age has a vocabulary of some 500 words, and its fath- er may have the command of 20,000 nore. The 10,000 verses of the ‘‘Rig-Veda’’ have for 3,000 veais heen actually preserved in the memories of the Brahmins. Not one Brahmin alone, ‘but thousands, ean today repeat it word for word. Thousands of Mobammedans, likewise, know the Koron by heart, as all learned Chinese know their classic books. The chiefs of Polynesia can and do repeat hundreds and thousands of words in their genealogies—taking days and even weeks for the recitation. Hundreds of pianists can play all day, and many days, by memory; and T have myself seen Von Bulow conduct Beethoven's fifth symphony without a score. Chess players have a visualizing memory, musi- cians have an auditive and a motor mem- ory; while arithimetical prodigies may have one of the three, or a combination of all. Travels 13,000 Miles to Wed. "After 30 Years' Courtship Miss Brickley Yields. Miss Mollie L. Brickley, of Baltimore, Md., has started for' Callipoosa, Chile, to wed Samuel McCrea, a millionaire, who formerly resided at Ellicott City. She took passage on a Liverpool steamer at New York Saturday. From England she will sail for Chile! The distance to be traveled is over 13,000 ‘miles. Miss Brickley is '50 Years old and ber intended husband is 10 years her senior. Away back in the seven- ties Miss Brickley and Mr. McCrea were lovers. The former refased to marry while her brother lived. + «1 0 Hl badd Alter several unsuccessful’ attemps to make her his. wife Mr. McCrea went to Sonth America, where he fell heir to the broad acres and millions of his brother. He continued to correspond with Miss Brick- ley. All obstacles to. the marriage were removed when Mr. Brickley died. Mr, McCrea then came to Baltimore and press- ed his suit with more vigor than ever and Miss Brickley yielded. Youth of Twenty-four Weds a Rich Widow of Forty. The quiet Quaker village of Swarthmore, Delaware county, where the college is, has its second sensation. The first came some time ago, when it was announced that Prof. Magill, father of the Misses Magill, who formerly taught school in Johnstown, was going to marry a young woman in her early twenties, though he himself was quite a distance past seventy. The seconil is of | a similar nature, with the shoe on the oth- er foot. Clarence B. Roadley, a youth of twenty. four; is going to wed Mis. Eliza- beth Smedley, widow of the famous Quak- er physician—Dr. Isaac Smedley—whose while on his way to see a charity patient two years ago will be recalled. Mrs. Smedley is very rich, and her young hus- band will have nothing to do hut look after tragic death by being run over by a train | her property. Sou AROS Three Dead in a Well. Tragedy in an lilinois Town That Has Not Been Ex- plained. Aun unexplained tragedy came to light | on Friday, at Granville, a small village about ten miles southwest of La Salle, Ill. by the finding in a well of the dead bodies of three sons of Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Casper. The parents went to Princeton, leaving the boys at home. Finding that they were to be detained for two days; they bought groceries and hired a man to take them out to the Casper farm. The three boys were ahsent. After searching about the premises the messenger finally, in an obscure part | of the farm, found a well which the | brothers were digging and. peering down, | saw the three locked in each others arms, dead. Life had been extinet for several hours. The coroner of Putman county is in charge of the case. There is some evidence pointing to foul play. It is now helieved that the three sons of Joseph Casper who were found dead in a well on their father’s farm, were murdered. It was supposed that they had been suffo- cated by foul gas. The boys were George, Edward and Clem. ent Casper, aged respectfully, 23, 14 and 8 years. They were at work on the well two days ago when their parents left home to attend court at Princeton. They had mysteriously disappered shen the parents returned, and only a persistent search by neighbors and relatives revealed the hodies | lying in a ghastly heap at the foot of the well. When the bodies were brought to the | light with grappling hooks, it was found i that the yonngest boy’s neck was broken, and that an ugly gash had been cut in the back of George, the oldest. Physieians say death was not caused by asphyxiation. No clew or possible reason for marder has been found. Miss Toppan’s List Grows. Eleven Suspicious Deaths are Now Laid at Her Door—Cases All Similar. District Attorney Holmes, of Bannstable county, Mass., who ordered the arrest of Miss Jane Toppan on the charge of poison- ing Mrs. Mary Gibbs, of Cautamet was in consultation recently with Prof. Woods, of Harvard, who made the autopsy on the bodies of Mrs. Gibbs and Mrs. Gordon. Mr. Holmes said that there had been 11 suspicious cases of death in homes at which Miss Toppan was employed as a nurse, and they are all being investigated. Mr. Holmes admitted that there is a pos- sibility of the bodies of Alden P. Davis and his wife heing taken from their graves in the Cataumet cemetery for an autopsy and that the hody of Mrs. Edna Bannister, who died August 27th, at Lowell, might be exhnmed. Something may also he done to deter- mine the cause of the death of a patient in Watertown whom Miss Toppan attended before the Davis family died. This pa- tient, Mrs. Holmes has been told, was ill but a short time. During Miss Toppan’s stay at Cataumet there were several mysterious fires in the Jackson house, of which Alden P. Davis was the proprietor, and the Davis cottage adjoining. ? Information bas heen given to Mr. Holmes that when Miss Toppan lived in Cambridge there were similar fives, which people were unable to explain at the time of their occurrence. Buffalo Bill's irrigation. Plan to Reclaim 150,000 Acres of Land Near Cody City, Wyo. Engineers have gone to New York to sub- nit to W. E. Cody and Nate Salisbury plans for a gigantic canal irrigation and power plant on the Shoshone river near Cody City, Wyo. A tract of 150,000 acres of land will be reclaimed at a cost of abont $800,000. The canal will be about 30 miles long, 35 feet wide on the bottom and 7 feet deep. It will run from the river six miles above Cody, through the mountains where the ditch will be blasted out of solid granite and will go toa place twenty miles below Cody. A dam of solid masonry will he built across the river above Cody and a power plant constructed there. A brauch canal will be taken from the main ditch two miles above Cody and will irrigate a tract of 15,000 acres surrounding the town. The project is one of the most important ever undertaken in the West. A Minister Suspended. Was Found Guilty of Breaking His Promise to Marry. The Rev. James Bettens, pastor of the Methodist - Episcopal church at Silver Brook, Schuylkill county, has heen sus- pended from all ministerial privileges un- til the ‘next annual session of the Central Methodist Episcopal Conference at Shamo- Kin in April, 1902. He was found guilty this week of breaking his promise to marry Miss Jane Perry, of Hazelton. ' The charge against him was heard by a committee composed of Presiding Elder Evans, of Sun- bury; J. W. Buckley, of Shamokin; the Rev. J. B. Mann, of Gordon, and the Rev. E. H. Whitman, of Ashland. In’ view of the excellent character of the Rev. Bettens the committee advised clemency. Dream of Death Came True. School Teacher's Affianced Killed When Wedding was Near, Miss Nettie Palinateer, a‘school ' teacher of Terra Haute, was to bave been married Thursday. to John K.. Ellabarger, the Vandalian brakeman, who was killed at Judson, Ind. 0 ARTHIDLIN (RY Miss Palmateer had a dream three months ago that Ellabarger was killed in a wreck, and that Fred Black and Louis Cook, two of his friends, had told her of the accident. “She told this to Ellabarger and he took out $2,200 life insurance in her favor a month ago. The dream weighed on both their minds. At midnight Friday Fred Black and Lonis Cook came to her house and broke the news to her. Mrs. U. S. Grant IIL Her Friends Alarmed—All Her Five Children Absent. Mss. Julia Dent Grant, widow of Gen, U, 8. Grant. is ill at her home in Wash- ington. She has been confined to the house since her return from Canada, about ten days ago, but her illness is not regarded as critical. It began with a cold, and the developments have alarmed her friends. Friday she was thought to be a little bet- ter. gd : : None of Mrs. Grant's five children are with her, nor will ahe allow them to be summoned. It has always been her prac- tice to keep herself quite independent from the members of her family, and she main- tains that characteristic in her illness. Women in the World. Why They are Outnumbered By Men in the United States. Whatever differences Dame Nature may have intended between the spheres of in- fluence of men and women, she evidantly intended that numerically at least the two sexes should stand on nearly the same footing. The world over, except where recognizable, and what might be called ar- tificial, causes interfere, the male and fe- male elements are about equal. At first sight, perhaps, this many not seem at all remarkable. Bat it is to be re- membered that in many families—large ones, too—the great majority of the chil- dren are of one sex or the other. And one should not be surprise if the aggregate ef- fect of this lopsidedness were to produce a ; considerable excess of men or women in a nation. The fact that such is not the case, then, shows that there is some potent and mysterious law of compensation at work upon the race as a whole, says the Chicago Tribune. And this law operates on many of the animals as well as men. On the farm it is found convenient to preserve a great predominance of one sex over the other in cattle and chickens. The bull calf is predestined from its birth to conver- sion into veal, and a similar stern fate con- ducts the superfluous cockerel to the grid iron or chicken pie at a tender age. But, so far as the natural increase is concerned among cattle and poultry, an approximate- ly even balance is preserved. Curiosity, not to say astonishment, is excited, therefore, by a recent announce- ment of the census bureau. The enumer- ation of 1900 shows than there are more men and boys than women and girls in ; this country and that the difference ex- ceeds 1,800,000 in a population of 75,303,- 387. The excess appears more distinctly, perhaps, when it is said that there are 512 males and only 488 females in every thousand people in the United States. What is more, this sort of thing has been going on, with some little flactuation in thegpercentage, for over half a century. Buffalo Exposition Ends. The Pan-American exposition ended at midnight Saturday night, when President John G. Milburn pressed an electric button and the lights in the electric tower grew dim for the last time. Slowly,one by one, the lights on post and pinnacle and tower faded away. A corps of buglers standing in the tower sounded ‘“‘taps” and one of the greatest glories of the exposition, the electrical illumination, passed away, and the exposition was ended. STOCKHOLDERS ARE LOSERS. The exposition has not heen a financial success, but it is believed the benefits de- rived from it will be of great value to the commercial interests of the country. The financial loss will he in the neighborhood of $3,000,000, which will fall upon the holders of the common stock, the holders of second mortgage bonds and the con- tractors who erected the buildings. CONTRACTORS’ PROFITS GONE. The balance due to contractors is not de- finitely known, but it is said that it repre- sents their profits for the work done, and no one will be seriously embarrassed by the loss, The total number of admissions for the six months was close to 8,000,000. An average of 2,000,000 a month had been figured on by the exposition officials. The great snow storm of last April was a severe blow to the Exposition. An im- mense amount of work on the grounds and buildings was delayed for a week. M’KINLEY’S DEATH THE CAUSE. The lamentable tragedy in the Temple of Music, which robbed the nation of a he- loved President was another blow to the Pan-Awerican. The attendance had been increasing steadily up to the date of the assassination of President McKinley. The gates were closed for two days, and when they re-opened there was a drop of 12 per cent. in the attendance, and no improve-’ ment followed. Steel Secrets That are Lost. Whether India learned her building arts from Egypt, or Egypt hers from India is not yet ascertained. But whichever it was Egypt excelled in this art. The imperish- able mortar they had of course. They per- formed feats of engineering which we could not accomplish at the present time—for example, the building of the Pyramids— and they could carve hieroglyphics upon granite which can nowadays only he touch- ed by jewels. But steel has been made which would probably carve this granite. Japan had this secret once; but has lost it now. But a drill was on exhibit some time hack, made from this Japanese steel which went easily through a standard file and was not dulled in the process. This Woman is Fed Through Her Nose. Insane, Mrs. Garr Imagines That She Has no Stomach and Refuses to Eat. Mis. Matthew Garr, of Harleigh, near Hazleton, Pa., is one of the most remarka- ble patients at the Laurytown almshouse. She was admitted about a year and a half ago, and since that time has persistently refused to partake of any nourishment. What she gets now is injected throngh her nostrils by the aid of a tube. ip : She iz insane, having conceived the idea that she has no stomach. She sleeps al- most continually. Au ineffectunl attempt to hypnotize her out of her belief has heen made. : | if DT Lostly Furs, | "Tlie skin now most prized and highest priced is the silver or black fox, noted for its rich, glossy black fur and its exterior hairs of a silver white. In 1900 an ex- ceptionally beautiful skin brought nearly $3,000—the highest ever paid; but the average value of good skins varies from $350 to $1,000. The fur next in value is that of the sea otter, for which $1,200 was paid in 1900. The fur is soft and fine and varies in color from dark chestnut to a deep brown, according to the age of the animal. It is now very rare, and only one skin was offered by the Hudson Bay company in March, 1901, — Collier's Weekly. o me Be —————— ‘Hog Cholera in the Valley. Dr. J. W. Tomlinson, a veterinary sur- geon of Williamsport, and O. F. Felmlee, of Lock Haven, drove to Sugar Valley Fri- day, where Dr, Tomlinson at the request of State Veterinarian Pearson made a thor- ough investigation of the disease that is killing off the swine in that section of the county. It was learned that about 60 hogs have died in the valley of the prevailing disease, = Dr. Tomlingon’s investigations convinced him that the disease among the swine is hog cholera. He gave vhe farmers advice ad to care of sick animals and ad. vised what course should be pursned to prevent a spread of the disease.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers