DemorralicAalcgues. -
Bellefonte, Pa., April 3, 1903.
THE SANDMAN.
The Sandman comes across the land
At evening, when the sun is low;
Upon his back a bag of sand—
His step is soft and slow,
I never hear his gentle tread,
But when I bend my sleepy head,
“The Sandman’s coming !”” mother says,
And mother tells the truth—always!
He glides across the sunset hills
To seek each little child like me,
Our all-day-tired eyes to fiil
With sands of sleep fram slumber’s sea,
I try my best awake to stay,
But I am tired out with play ;
“P’]l never see him!” mother says.
And mother tells the truth—always !
1 guess he’s old, with silver hair,
He’s up so late; He has to go
To lots of children, everywhere,
At evening, when the sun is low.
His cloak is long, and green, and old
With pretty dreams in every fold—
His shoes are silken, mother says,
And mother tells the truth—always.
—Marie va® Vorst, in Harper's Magazine.
THE BABY FROM RUGGLES'S DIP.
“There’s somethin’ got to be done about
that kid,”” said Barney, impressively.
“Knowin’ Jim’s feelin’s about things the
way we do, ’t ain’t right to let it go.”
“Sort of sackery-dotal—if that’s the
right name for it,”’ commented a younger
man, uncertainly.
No one volunteered an opinion on the
appropriateness of the word; they were too
intent upon the main problem, which ap-
peared as intricate as the maze of iron
tracks in the grimy yard where they were
standing. The great railway-yard wore a
vaguely depressing atmosphere that gray
November afternoon. Its network of rails
looked like an immense spider-web for the
entangling of unwary victims. The loco-
motives puffing and steaming here and
there, moving and stopping with sudden
jerks and discordant noises, had something
sullen and malevolent in their might ; and
the massive walls of the shops, in their
sooty, greasy somberness, seemed stained
by the toil and mourning of generations.
Outside the grounds a chain of low hills,
showing a fringe of straggling, skeleton-
like trees against the cloudy sky,shutin the
little settlement. Toward this boundary
more than one of the knot of men about
Barney turned meditative eyes, but appar-
ently received no inspiration from the out-
look. “‘Ruggle’s Dip”’ was, indeed,not an
inspiring location. It was said that the rail-
road company had bought the tract and lo-
cated its shops there, three miles out of the
city, because the ground wascheap. It was
sufficiently malarial to account for its
cheapness.
Still it was probably the lingering
shadow of what had occurred two weeks
before, rather than anything in the place
itself, which accentuated its dreariness that
autumn afternoon. It was scarcely the
unexpected, certainly not the unusual,
which had happened—*‘‘only what is like-
ly to come to any man if he stays on the
road long enough,’’ the veteran yard-mas-
ter had remarked philosophically. There
had been wrecks in plenty, and many an-
other man had been brought home as Jim
was; but everybody liked Jim, and he was
young yet : he had not had time to grow
grizzled in the service. He had just been
promoted to a regular place on the engine,
and this was to have been his last ‘‘wild”’
run—this that was his last, when he had
been called after only three hours’ rest,
and hurriedly sent ont with no time for
the bite of breakfast Lizzie begged bim to
take. No one knew the details of what
came afterward, except as the crushed form
besides the rails, with a tin cup still tight-
ly clasped in the lifeless hand, told the
story—an attempt to get some coffee ata
little station, and a misstep in the darkness
of the early morning.
No. it was not a singular occurrence only
death never grows common enough to lose
its element of surprise, and always there
were the peculiar features whichset each
case apart by itsell. Here were Jim’s wife
and baby and the old mother. Women
and babies were exceedingly rare at Rug-
gle’s Dip, for the same reason which made
the land cheap made it also undesirable as
a residence for those who could afford a
choice. Most of the men with families
had their homes in town, or in little cabins
scattered along the line; but Jim’s crip-
pled mother sorely needed the aid of his
strong arm whenever he was off duty, and
* 80 his little household had been established
at the Dip.
{But he was joined to a big church up
in the town, my hoy Jim was—big a
church as any there is, with pretty red-and
blue glass winders and a great organ,’’
wailed the old mother, in mingled grief
and pride. ‘‘And he has goin’ to bave his
baby baptized there. James Willie Ker-
ley, that’s what they'd ba’ called him, all
writ in the church books, and everything.
And now he can’t never, never doit—my
poor Jim ! Seems like I could stand it bet-
ter if he’d done for the baby the way he’d
planned fore he was took.”
That was another of the peculiar features
in Jim’s case, his connection with that up-
town church. The priest and confession
upon occasions were familiar and easily
comprehended, and even a distant relation-
ship with a mission chapel was nothing
unheard of, but a wealthy church up in
the heart of the city ! The ‘‘boys’’ had
ascepted such a state of affairs witha
silence born of mingled respect and per-
plexity. It had been Lizzie’s doing, of
course—Lizzie, who had belonged there
before her marriage and bad coaxed Jim to
go with her. But now when he had gone
for the last time it had been alone ; she
lay ill and unconscious, and the words
that were spoken above his quiet sleeping
were heard hy neither wife nor mother.
But because the speaker was a man witha
heart warm -with brotherhood for other
men, his eves grew moist at the scene bhe-
fore him, those brave, rugged men who
ran their race with death each day, and he
had some words for them also—words
Wich beld the strong cheer of a trumpet’s
call.
“Seemed like,’ said Big Dan, wonder-
ingly, on the homeward way—'‘‘seemed
like that preacher had an idea that a feller
tryin’ to run accordin’ to schedule, and
dyin’ with his hand on the throttle rath-
er’n jump his engine, might be one of the
upper sort all the same as if he’d gone mis-
sionaryin’ to Injy and heen killed by the
heathen.”’
Barney thoughtfully reviewed the situa-
tion as he stood looking down upon the
old mother, who daily renewed her plaint.
Her constant reiteration awakened certain
qualms in his own loyal heart, and he
spoke with sudden determination : :
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Kerley. Just wait
a bit, and you shall have it.”
A gleam of hope came to the dim eyes,
but faded again.
“No ; I’ve got the rheumatiz, ye see,’’
she explained wearily, as if all the Dip did
not know. ‘I hain’t stepped a foot for
years, I can’t git out of this chair no-
wheres, and likely Lizzie 'll never be no
better 'n she is.”
¢A1l the same we ’11 fix it, aud. don’t
you worry,” repeated Barney.
It was a vague promise, but a rash one,
and its weight pressed more heavily as the
days wore on, for Lizzie showed no sign of
recovery, and the childish mother urged
more persistently. :
“I wisht somebody ‘d do what ’s right
by Jim’s baby ! I wisht they would !”’
Barney’s honest brow was growing care-
lined.
“Somethin’ ’s got to be done about that
kid,’” he repeated to the knot of men he
had gathered about him in the yard.
“He ’s got a mother and—grand moth-
er,” suggested one of the men, with an
uneasy desire to shift responsibility. He
became instantly abashed as Dan’s reflec-
tive gaze fell upon him, and hastened to
add, ‘“‘such as they are.”
«And the grandmother ’s a cripple, and
the mother ’s took sick,—nobody knowin’
if she ’11 ever be better,—and both of ’em
a-wailp’ every time ye seb eyes on em how
Jim meant to bave that boy baptized,”
supplemented Dar.
“That 's aisy enough—jist the praste an’
a dhrop of holy wather,”’ said Mike.
Barney shook his head.
“The church Jim was joined to ain’t
that kind,”’ he explained tolerantly. “It
's some other way they do. But I don’t
know a blame thing about baptizin’.”’
There was a moment silence, and then
the man who had mentioned the mother
and grandmother again ventured into the
breach, somewhat hesitatingly :
“J was to a baptizin’. The baby was
all rigged out in white flammery, and
there was a lot of guardians or responsors
—somebody that answered questions.
They promised, nigh as I could catch on,
to trounce the world, the flesh, and the
devil, for the baby.”
“‘Begorra; we 'd do that same,ivery one
of us 1"? declared Mike, delighted at having
the matter assume a militant aspect. ‘‘We
'd trounce all t’ree of em together if they
laid a finger on Jim’s kid.”
Barney still looked doubtful, and the
man who had volunteered his experience
searched his memory for further details.
“I reckon there ’d be things to learn—a
collict or something, ’’ he said.
“It ’s this way,’’ said Barney, earnestly.
“Some folks take to church, and some
don’t. Most of us don’t, but Jim he did,
and was joined to that one up-town. He
was countin’ on takin’ the kid up there to
be baptized, whatever that may be, and
we all know it, for we heard him sayin’
how it had to be put off. One Sunday it
rained, and one Sunday he had to make a
run; but we all know what bis plans was.
Now he ’s gone, and the mother can’t ’tend
to it. There ’s noboby left but us, and
knowin’ his feelin’s—'’ Barney paused
and looked about the group once more.
+If somebody that ’s had some experience
FO}
The man who had contributed all the
information at hand drew back hastily.
‘Bein’ just inside the doors when a
thing ’s goin’ on don’t give no one expe-
rience,’’ he asserted with great positive-
ness.
“I move that Barney be appointed a
committee of one to look after this thing—
go and see the parson and find out how the
game is played, and what ’s the cost, and
all the rest. Then we ’ll divvy up and
push ber through,” said Dan, with a sud-
den inspiration.
This proposition met the prompt and
unanimone favor which always greets an
opportunity to shift uncomfortable respon-
sibility, and Barney, at the end of the
conference, found himself, as at its begin-
ning, with the knot still left for his own
unraveling. He walked by Jim’s house
that evening with a vague hope of receiv-
ing some enlightment, but there reached
him only the screaming which revealed the
vigor of a pair of infantile lungs, and sent
him on his way with the perspiration
standing on his forehead.
“Tf it should go a-shriekin’ like that!”
he muttered.
A week’s cogitation brought no new
hight ; but at the first ‘‘off day’’ Barney
marched away to town without a word to
any one, only fortifying himself with the
historic remark : ‘‘The way to resume
specie payment is to resume.”’
The Rev. John Kendall, sitting in his
study when the dull firelight and dying
daylight made the combination of gleam
and gloom that his musing soul loved, was
scarcely aware of a servant’s tap at the
door, or of his own response, until a power-
ful form loomed up in the book-lined
room. Mr. Kendall’s chair whirled quick-
ly about, and he arose to bis feet ; but the
visitor promptly took the initiative.
{You 're the preacher, I reckon. My
name’s Barney.”
‘Glad to see you, Mr. Barney. Will—"
But Barney, having for three miles con-
centrated his mind on the thing he was
to say, could not pause for distracting pre-
liminaries until the main issue was at
least before the house. He did not see the
offered seat, and cut short the question
unheedingly.
“It 's about the ki—the baby.
he baptized.’
Oh, your child, I suppose ?”’
“Mine ?*’ Barney’s tone was reproachful.
““You buried his father three weeks ago.”
The three weeks had held many things
for the Rev. John Kendall. His parish
was large, and the outlying world larger
still. - Calls upon him from within and
without were many, and even the sorrow-
ful service referred to in no wise identified
either his visitor or the baby. He did not
say so ; he prudently waited.
“‘After he was killed on the railroad,”
added Barney.
“Oh, poor Kerley’s child? Yes, I re-
member.”’
It did not seem to loyal Barney a thing
to be speedily forgotten, and he pondered
over the last word a moment before he re-
turned to the subject.
“Jim he had his mind set on bringin’
the—child up here to have him baptized
and started off on the church track as yon
might say; but he ’s dead.”
““The child dead ?”’
Again Barney paused in momentary be-
wilderment. It seem difficult to explain
things to this man of much learning; but
probably go many books had a tendency to
dull the brain.
“No: ’t was Jim you buried; the kid ’s
lively enongh. What we want to know
about is his bein’ baptized. He ain’ side-
tracked on account of not havin’ his father
to ’tend to it ?’’
‘‘Oh, no. The mother can—"’
‘She can’t’’ interposed Painey. ‘‘She’s
been sick quite a while, and out of her
head most of the time since Jim went; she
don’t seem to get any better. And the
grandmother she ’s crippled up, and can’t
stir out of her wheel-chair. She ’s sort of
He ’s to
childish, anyway, and unresponsible; that
’s how the thing stands; but she wants him
to get his baptizin’ all the same.”
“‘She may understand more than you
think, and the mother may rally in a few
days,’’ suggested the minister. ‘They are
at Ruggles Dip, I think? I can go there.”
Barney moved uneasily.
“That ’s kind of you,’’ he said, ‘‘but’t
ain’t just what we want. Jim counted on
bringin’ that kid to the church, to have it
done up all orderly and reg’lar. If you
say ’t would be all right, so ’t would pass,
if them rites was performed at the Dip, I
ain’t questionin’ that it ’s so. It’s likely |
you know all the ins and outs of the busi-
pess, and I ain’t presumin’ to put my
hands on the throttle, as you might say;
but it ’s this way; we knew Jim’s feelin’s
about it, and we ’d like it to be in the
church. He had bard times enough him-
self makin’ wild runs before he got asteady
place, and it sort of seems as if he ’d like
the ki—boy to be entered proper fora
reg’lar run. But winter ’s comin’ on, and
there ’s no time to wait for folks to get
well—if they ever do get well. What we
want to know is, seein’ there ’s no folks of
his own to tend to it, if some of us who
knew his father—"’
There was perplexity in the clerical face,
and Barney scanned it anxiously. He was
making a marvelously long speech for him, |
but he had thought the matter out
amid shrieking of whistles and puffing of
engines, and he bad not come here to have
his argument easily overturned.
“If it ’s anything that ought to be done
—the way Jim thought about it —don’t
seem like it would be fair to bar the kid
out just because there ’s none of his own
kin to stand up for him. There ’s a lot of
us willin’ to do our best at it, if you can
make us do instead.”
The faces of the men, grave, strong, and
resolute, whom he had seen file into the
church three weeks before, arose before
Mr. Kendall's vision in severe contrast to
some of the airy christening-parties that
claimed his services in due order. It might
not be ‘‘reg’lar,”’ but his sympathies went
out strongly toward Barney’s proposition.
“Yes, vou shall stand up for him. Bring
the boy,”’ he said with sudden resolve.
“Next Sunday afternoon, say ?’’ ques-
tioned Barney. wiping perspiration from
his forehead. It was a chilly day, but his
task had been arduous.
The preliminaries of day and hour were
arranged, and again the ambassador hesi-
tated with an anxious thought struggling
for utterance—a foreboding suggested by
the man who had had experience.
“‘Wounld there likely be any collict, or
anything, we 'd need to get ready for?’’
‘Colic?’ The minister’s thoughts revert-
ed to certain disturbances in his own
nursery, but he shook his head. “‘I hope
not: If he is warmly wrapped up, and—
and—no, I think not,’’ he concluded belp-
lessly.
“‘Collict,”’ repeated Barney, with a pa-
tience almost pathetic, *‘sort of general or-
ders, or somethin’ we ’d have to learn ?”’
¢No—oh, no. I’ll explain it all when
you come, and you just answer to the
questions that are asked you then.”
Barney breathed a long sigh of relief.
“The boys ain’t much on studyin’, most
of ’em’’ he confessed. ‘‘We’ll be here.”
There was a subdued buzz of excitement
and preparation in Ruggle’s Dip during
the four days that ensued. The old grand-
mother affirmed herself ‘‘all of a tremble,”
aud wore her cap more awry than usual;
and though the boys, whom Barney had
gathered to receive his report and be
coached in their duties, would not have
admitted any great interest in the forth-
coming event their deeds betrayed them.
Every day three or four of them would
slip into the house, each alone shamefaced-
ly, with some gift purchased for the baby’s
wardrobe. They were generous in expen-
diture, but their widely varying tastes and
great diversity of views in regard to the
size of garments made the outfit,as a whole
bewildering, particularly as a delicate re-
gard for the feelings of the donors rendered
it expedient to use as many of the offerings
as possible when the important occasion ar-
vived. Still, on the authority of one who
assisted at the robing.—no great authority,
since she was only the wife of the station-
pumper,—it may be stated : “If the choild
looked like he’d 1'aped through the bar-
gains on a rimnant counther, it did n’t
burt him any. bliss his swate sowl !”’
The Dip had not many inhabitants, but
the few it possessed were all sauntering
about the station when Sunday afternoon
came. They would not have betrayed such
undue interest in the christening expedi-
tion as to watch its departure, but, chanc-
ing to be on hand at the time, it was nat-
ural to bestow a glance upon what was go-
ing on. A handcar stood upon the track, a
wheel-chair and its occupant forming the
center of the little knot of passengers,
while Barney, standing straight, held a
blanketed bundle in his arms. The relays
of men who began working the cranks of
the hand-car were in unwontedly white
shirt-sleeves, and a rusty crape veil floated
like a pennant behind.
«To think of it seemin’ so unpossible.
and bein’ so easy !"? said the old mother
when she found herself finally in the city
and the car was lifted from the rails.
There was a straightening of collars and
donning of coats, and the odd little proces-
sion took its way up-town—the brawny
men, somewhat awkwardly aware of the
restraints of Sunday attire, propelling
gravely the chair and its back-robed figure.
“Hello! Seven nusses all out for a’
airnin’, with only one young baby in arms
an’ one old un in a go-cart to the lot of
em !” yelled a street urchin.
The men were too intent on their mission
to heed any glances that followed them.
Arrived at the church, they paused in the
vestibule and looked anxiously at their
charges. One was blissfully unconscious
of all about him, but the other was some-
what fatigued. One of the men brought
her a glass of water, and Big Dan, with
clumsy tenderness, smoothed back the
gray Dbair and straightened the black
bonnet before the party filed np the long
aisle and into a front pew.
The great church was quiet at that hour,
and empty but for themselves, —the Rev.
John Kendall had planned the time,—and
the afternoon sunshine streamed through
the ‘‘pretty red-and-blue winders’ and
gladdened the old grandmother’s heart. She
spread out her thin, wrinkled hands on
her lap as if she would bathe them in the
glow of colors, aud breathed a sigh of con-
tent as the minister took his place.
“Stand up, boys,’’ whispered Barney,
solemnly., ‘You ’ve all got to be respon-
sors in this business, and help promise the
promises without any shirkin’,’’
They did not look like men accustomed
to shirk as they lined up at his side, and
the minister, looking into the steady eyes
and set faces, was not dissatisfied, even
though his ritual had undergone some
strange adaptations and innovations for
their sakes. ‘We ’re willin’ to promise
all we honestly can,’”” Barney had plain-
tively forewarned him, ‘but you'll bear
in mind we ain’t none of us his mothers
and fathers.” §
“Amen |’ piped the grandmother as the
tender prayerended.
The light from the beautiful windows
caught the water and changed the drops to
rainbow hues as they touched the little
head, and so the baby from Ruggle’s Dip
was baptized into the name of the Highest.
“Oh, T wisht there could be singin’ !”
quavered the old woman, with eyes wan-
dering to the great organ and the singers’
seats. ‘I wisht there could be singin’ ab
my Jim’s boy’s bapsizin’ !”’
The place was empty but for oneslender,
shrinking figure.
the minister had stolen in to witness this
ceremony of which her husband bad spok-
en. She was no musician; she stood in
awe of the grand choir, and would not for
the world have lifted up her voice before
them ; but standing there alone, with that
pleading old face before her, she softly be-
gan the psalm, comfort of generations,
with which she rocked her own babies to
sleep :
The Lord ’s my shepherd, I'll not want:
He makes me down to lie
In pastures green ; he leadeth me
The quiel waters by.
The men stood with bowed heads—the
minister’s a little lower than t!.c others’—
until the words died away.
“And now he ’s bad it all, Jim's baby
has—the prayin’, thesingin’, the baptizin’,
and seven godmothers!” murmured the
grandmother, in beatific satisfaction.
“They’ve done for him what ’s right, and
his name ’11 be all writ out in the books—
James Willie Kerley—jest like anybody’s.”’
The sun had dropped out of sight behind
a mass of gray clouds when the special car
ran into the grimy yard at the Dip once
more. The guardians of the wheel-chair
hurried its occupant away, for the dun sky
portended storm; but Barney. carrying the
white bundle, lingered a little. He cau-
tiously pulled away a corner of the envel-
oping blanket, and the first snowflake of
the season fell on the little sleeping face.
Barney looked down at it.
“We ve done our hest for you, kid,”’ he
whispered. ‘‘You re mighty little and
soft and white-like, and I ain’t responsible
for how long you ’11 hold to the track; but
nobody can say we didn’t give you an all-
round good startin’.”’—By Kate W. Hamil-
ton in the Century Magazine.
He Showed the Widow Why it Was Too
Late to Mourn.
After the ship which had come from New
Zealand was tied up at the wharf Larry
O’Brien was told off by one of his ship-
mates to call upon Mrs. McCarthy and
break the news of the death of her busband,
which had occurred on shipboard the pre-
ceding summer. The Brooklyn Eagle tells
how he did it :
“Good morning, Mrs. McCarthy !”’ said
he. ‘‘Is Denny in?” °°
“Denny ?”’ said the surprised woman.
“My Denny?’ No, he’s not in. Is the
ship here ?"’
‘Sure it is. And Denny’s not got home
yet? That's quare—unless something has
bappened him.”’ !
‘What would happen him?” Mrs. Mec-
Carthy asked anxiously.
‘“There’s plenty of things can happen a
man,’’ said Larry delicately. ‘He might
have got hurt or he might have took sick
with the fever. But there’s one comfort,
as Father McGinnis once said and that is
that time heals iv’ry grief.”
““What do you mane, Mr. O’Brien ?”’
“1 mane that if anything happened to
Denny vou wouldn’t feel as bad about it a
few months after it happened as you would
right at the time would you ?”’
“I suppose not,’ said Mrs. McCarthy.
“I mind whin I lost me first husband I
thought I’d never get over it. But, as you
say, in a few months it was aisier to bear.’’
“Then, Mrs. McCarthy, you’ll be glad
to know that it’s now four months—nearly
five—since Denny died. Sure, it can’t
grieve you now as much as it would if you'd
known it at the time.”’
Wore Woman’s Clothing.
Arrest of a Man Who for Twenty Years Has Been
Playing Jack-the-Hugger.
A mystery of twenty years standing was
solved in Westfield, Mass., last Tuesday
night by the arrest of Joseph Wheel in
woman's attire. For some years the police
have been baffled by the operations of a
man, who, disguised in feminine apparel
accosted unattended women and hugged
and kissed them.
Wheel was captured at midnight in the
home of Frank Grant. Grant’s son, on
reaching the house, found the front door
fastened on the inside. Looking in the
windows he saw what was apparently a
woman prowling about.
Grant entered the house through a win-
dow, but the intruder, instead of fleeing,
grappled with Grant, who was getting
much the worst of the contest when he
called for help. With the assistance of
neighbors the athletic visitor was over-
powered, but not until an umbrella had
been broken over Grant's head and a finger
of John Knapp, one of those who answered
Grant’s cries, bad been bitten nearly off.
The surprise of the police when the
identity of the prisoner was established
was unbounded. Wheel not only wore
the outer garments of a woman, but a com-
plete outfit, including French heeled shoes.
His corset cover was elaborately embroid-
ered. Wheel is 48 years old, married and
has four children.
c———————————
Engine Falls Into Snlt Lake.
— \
Section of theX Southern Pacific Cutoff Sinks—Fire-
man Drowned.
Another big section of the Southern Pa-
cifie’s famous Lucin cutoff sank on Wed-
nesday, and the quagmire in Great Salt
Lake claimed another victim.
About noon an engine was run out on a
completed section of the cutoff. When a half
mile out in the lake the engine suddenly
wabbled, the track dropped out of sight in
the water, and the locomotive turned a
somersault and plunged into the lake.
Fireman Robert W. Watson was drowned.
This cutoff, which carries the Southern
Pacific across the lake, saves sixty miles of
road. Five seventy foot piles were driven
on top of each other where the track sunk,
but they failed to hold.
The Harriman engineers are puzzled and
believe they have struck a bottomless quag-
mire on the line of the cutoff.
Quicksilver,
It is not universally known that almost
85 per cent. of all the quicksilver consug-
ed in the world is supplied by two mines.
One of them is the famous quicksilver
mine of Almadin, in Spain. Ibis a state
property, which has been worked for near-
ly 2000 years. The other one is that of
Idria, in Austria, which mine has been
known since 1490. This mine is also state
property. Some years ago quicksilver de-
posits were discovered in Italy, which are
now being exploited. Quicksilver is also
found, to some extent, in our western
States, in Peru and in the interior of China.
ATW IE 1
The shy young wife of |
He is a Monument Man.
John G. Taylor, of West Chester. Carries His Fad
to the Limit. Lafayette is His Favorite. Statues
Also to His Wife. the Savicur, and the Virgin
Mary, With More to Follow Including His Own.
One of the unique characters of West
Chester is John G. Taylor. He has a fad
for building monuments, which has de-
veloped into a perfect mania, and he has
spent thomsands of dollars in the gratifica-
tion of it. :
The scene of his operations is in the old
Lafayette burying Ground, adjoining Bir-
mingham Meeting House, of Revolutionary
fame, about five miles from West Chester.
After a long struggle, through the purchase
of a majority of the stock, Mr. Taylor be-
came absolute master of the ancient grave-
yard, to the chagrin of the members of the
Society of Friends, and here he has erected
a group of graniteshafts and marble statues
at a cost exceeding $25,000.
Before he reaches the limit of his mania
it is predicted that Mr. Taylor will have
spent more than $50,000 in the monument
line, as he doesn’t propose to stop until he
has exhausted his fortune, reserving only
a sufficient amount to see that they are
kept in good condition after he has been
called to his fathers.
TO HIS WIFE, THE VIRGIN AND SAVIOUR.
At the head of his private lot, wherein
lie the remains of his father, mother, wife
and other relatives, he has erected an im-
posing shaft on the top of which, in a grace-
ful kneeling pose, is a life-size statue of his
wife in white marble, the work of a noted
Carrara (Italy) sculptor, while at the foot
stand white marble statues of Jesus Christ
and of the Virgin Mary, at the feet of the
latter standing two figures representing
cherubin. -
All of these statues are encased in glass
to protect them from the elements, and are
among the most beautiful specimens of
statuary art in the country.
In the family burial lot there is but one
space left for the dead, and this has been
reserved by Mr. Taylor for himself. He
has had his grave dug, walled and cement-
ed, and when his time comes all that will
be necessary will be the raising of a heavy
granite slab and coffin lowered to the place
prepared for it.
THE LAFAYETTE STATUE.
A few yards distant stands the imposing
shaft erected to the memory of General
Lafayette. It is built of granite ona pyra-
mid base, and stands 45 feet high. It is
Mr. Taylor's purpose eventually to cap it
with a bronze statue of the distinguished
Frenchman. At the foot of the shaft there
are places at the four corners of the cap-
stone for the busts of four French officers,
who participated in the battle of Brandy-
wine. Their names and dates of their
| birth are chiseled thus in the granite :
General Lafayette, born September 6th, 1757;
died May 2nd, 1834.
Cassimer Count Pulaski, born 1747 ; died 1791,
at sea.
General Count Jean Rochanbeau, born 1725;
died 1807, in France.
General Marquis St. Simons, born 1760 ; died
1825, in France.
THREE STATUES ON THIS BASE.
Close by the Lafayette monument is a
granite base 15 feet in length, four feet
thick and nine feet high, which is to form
a pedestal for three statues, which Mr. Tay-
lor hopes to place in position at an early
day. The statues will be those of General
Count Puiaski, who fought in the Revolu-
tion, and Daniel Wells and Harry G. Me-
Comas, who killed General Ross in Balti-
more.
1S INTENSELY PATRIOTIC.
Mr. Taylor lives quietly at the Tuark’s
Head hotel, in West Chester. He has
made this ancient hostelry his home for
thirty consecutive years, and to strangers
he is invariably pointed out as ‘‘The Monu-
ment Man.” He has an intense love for
everything American, a deep hatred for the
enemies of his country, and he fairly glori-
fies the heroes of the Revolution. His
great-grandfather, Colonel Isaac Taylor,
was a member of General Anthony Wayne's
staff, and to him also he has erected a hand-
some shaft. It is expected that the next
monument to be placed in position by him
will be one to the memory of General
Wayne.
When the weather is good Mr. Taylor is
accustomed to spend all his time at his
graveyard. He will go out in the morn-
ing, day after day, and linger by the sides
of his monuments until the shades of even-
ing drive him away. The, place has be-
come a Mecca for the public, and hundreds
of people come from far and near to view
his expensive collection of marble and
granite. He bas made a provision that
when he shuffles off this mortal coil his
body shall be frozen as hard as it can be
done and that there shall he no speaking
at either the house or the grave. He has
already selected his pallbearers, and made
provision for their pay.
Germany’s Empress Hurt.
Thrown From Horse While Riding in the Grunewald
Forest. Right Arm Broken—Prince Adalbert Was
With His Mother at the Time of the Accident—
Her Horse Stumbled.
The empress was thrown from her horse
while riding at Grunewald last Friday and
her right arm was broken.
Later advices show the empress slightly
fractured her forearm as the result of a fall
from her horse, which stumbled while she
was riding in the Grunewald forest last
Friday morning. The empress, who was
accompanied by Prince Adalbert, her third
son, and her suite, was assisted to the
hunting lodge after her fall and a surgeon
was telephoned for, with the result that a
physician was sent to the lodge in an auto-
mobile, which was driven at the highest
possible speed.
The empress fell heavily. Emperor
William, who was near at hand, was among
the first to reach her side and assisted her
to rise.
The imperial party was galloping at the
moment when the empress’ horse shied and
stumbled. ,
Headquarters in Johnstown.
State Board of Health will Fight Small-pox from
Cambria County.
Johnstown has been selected by the
State Board of Health as the headquarters
of the sanitary campaign against smallpox
in Western Pennsylvania, which the board
will shortly begin. The State Board's de-
cision is one result of the action of Gov-
ernor Pennypasker, recently, in attaching
his signature to the emergency bill giving
the board $50,000 with which to stamp out
the smallpox epidemic. The board is to
be absolutely untrammeled in its expen-
diture of the money, all the legislators re-
quire being results in the way of eradicat-
ing the plague.
It ie understood that Dr. W. R. Batt,
who had been connected with the Phila-
delphia board of health, ac a medical in-
spector for some years, and is an expert 10
smallpox, has been appointed to the im-
portant post there. He is expected to ar-
rive in a few days.
For Clerks and Carriers.
Civil Service Examination Will be Held in Town on
May 6th.
The United States civil service commis-
sion announces that on May 6th, 1903, an
examination will be held for the positions
of clerk and carrier in the postoffice service
in this city.
This examination offers an excellent op-
portunity for entering the Federal service
to bright. energetic young persons who are
not afraid of hard work, and as previous
examinations have failed to resultin a suffi-
cient number of eligibles, the commission
urges all persons who are qualified, and
who may desire to enter the posfoffice ser-
vice, to apply for and take this examina-
tion. It may be stated that there is a wid-
er field for advancement upon merit in the
Federal service than in many private em-
ployments. While the salary in the post-
office service is usually about $500 or $600
per annum at the start, this amonnt com-
pares favorably with the compensation of a
beginner in private employment.
This examination will be beld in order
to give all persons who desire to apply an
opportunity to be examined for positions
in this office. It is intended hereafter, in
case no eligibles result from the clerk car-
rier examinations, to fill vacancies in this
office by selections from any register of the
civil service commission which may have
been established as the result of a first or
second grade examination, selections being
made of persons who are residents of this
city or this part of the state, and not more
than one clerk-carrier examination will be
held during each year unless eligibles can
not be secured from the other registers.
This notice is given in order that the per-
sons who may desire to become eligible for
positions in this office may file their appli-
cations and enter this examination.
The nature of the examination is a test
of practical, general intelligence and of
adaptability in postoffice work. The ex-
amination will consist of spelling, arith-
metic, letter writing, penmanship, copy-
ing from plain copy, United States geog-
raphy, reading addresses.
Age limit, all positions, 18 to 45 years.
From the eligibles resulting from this
examination it is expected that certifica-
tion will be made to existing and future
vacancies.
All applicants, male and female, must
have the medical certificate in Form 101,
executed as indicated in the form. Male
applications must be at least 4 feet 4 inches
in height, exclusive of boots or shoes,
and weigh not less than 125 pounds in or-
dinary clothing, without overcoat or hat.
This examination is open to all citizens
of the United States who comply with the
requirements without regard to whether
they have been examined within the past
year. Competitors will be rated withont
regard to any consideration other than the
qualifications shown in their examination
papers, and eligibles will be certified strict-
ly in accordance with the civil service law
and rales.
For application blank (Form 101), full
instructions, specimen examination ques-
tions, and information relative to the du-
ties and salaries of the different positions,
and the location of the examination room,
application should be made to the secretary
ot the board of examiners at the post-of-
ce.
No application will be accepted for this
examination unless filed with the under-
signed prior to the hour of closing husiness
on April 18, 1903.
WILL H. GARMAN,
Bellefonte, Pa. Sec. Postal Board.
Two Men Swept Away and Drowned
in a Swift Stream. :
People Stand Helpless on the Banks and Fellow
¢ Humans Sink to Death. Wife of One Victim
Witnesses Tragedy.
A double drowning occurred at Sharon
at 5:15 o’clock on Friday afternoon in the
Shenango river, within sight of several hun-
dred people, but no effort was made to save
the lives of the unfortunate men.
The victims were Gaylord H. Locke,
aged 38 years, a lifelong resident of Shar-
on, and his nephew, Frederick Mapous,
aged 19 years. :
Locke and Mapousdrove a horse into the
river at the foot of Silver street to wash a
buckboard. The current is quite swift as
this point. They apparently got into a
sinkhole, for the horse, wagon and two
men were swept down stream into deep
water. When they realized it would be
impossible to get the horse out the two be-
gan swimming toward shore.
When the men were seen struggling in
the water scores of men rushed to the
river bank with ropes and planks to aid
them, hut they were so far out they could
not be reached. After making a brave fight
both sank at a point about 100 feet from
where they went in. .
Mrs. Locke was an eyewitness to the
tragedy. As she saw her husband battling
for life she cried : ‘‘My God, will no cne
save him ?”’
Then he sank under the water and she
almost collapsed.
Locke was one of Sharon’s best known
citizens. He was born in that city 38
years ago and is survived by his wife,
one daughter and one son. Mapous came
to Sharon about seven months ago from
Conneaut Lake. He was employed in his
Vines place of business and was unmar-
ried.
Immediately after the accident boats
were secured and the river was dragged with
grappling hooks. Mapous body was found
first and shortly afterward that of Locke
was brought to shore.
Loafers Routed in a Unique
ner.
Man=-
The tenants of a Cleveland office building
annoyed by the presence of a number of
men who made it a point to ‘‘loaf’’ about
the entrance of the building, have solved
the problem of keeping them away by
placing the following sign on the door :
—0
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0
WANTED—Twenty-five loafers to
hang around the doorway and ob-
struct the passage of ladies who
desire to enter the building.
0
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0
There was a scattering of the ‘‘loafers,’”’
when the notice appeared, and now the
sign is the only reminder that the crowd
bad previously bothered the occupants of
the building.
Baby Born With Two Heads.
Bright and Healthy and has Extra Wide Shoulders
—Physicians Say it Will Live.
A girl baby, with two perfectly develop-
ed heads, was horn to Mr. and Mrs. H.
Farrell, of Boggs Run, near Wheeling, W.
Va., Friday night. The little one is bright
and healthy and there is no irregularity in
the features of cither face.
The heads rescrable each other closely.
The only thing peculiar about the develop-
ment of the child is the extra width of the
shoulders. The baby, physicians say, will
live beyond a doubt.