|
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.