Democracy, ee] Bellefonte, Pa., March 19, 1909, SANDNAN, The Sandman’s filling his bags with sand, Down by the Slumber Sea: One roguish eye hath he filled on Jand, Where the playing children be. “Ho! ho!" he laughs—and the waves laugh too, The waves of the Slumber Deep so blue— Little Folk, listen! He's warning you! “Ho, Little Folk, wait for me!" The Sandman’s filling his bags so full On the shore of the Slumber Sea: He has one Lo carry and one to pull, But he doesn't eara—not he! “Ho! ho! he laughs, when the white sands spill: “Millions of bonny bright eyes to fill!" Little Folk, listen! He's laughing still— “Ho, Little Folk, wait for me!" The Sandman’s creeping without a sound, And in from the Slumber Sea The Dream Fogs follow and close him round— Like a shadow stealeth he! The Sandman’s stealing so near, 50 near! — They are rubbing their eyes, are the Little Folk dear! “Little Folk, hurry!” he's ealling clear: “To the Land o' Nod with me!” —By Aone E. Barr. IN MUSICLAND. Maurice Renaud, first barytone of France, has many traits of mind in common with the novelist in building up the characters that he portrays. In common, too, with she novelist, his every figure in opera isa composite of many. From the moment be begins to study a role it fills his mind, even in the street ; perhaps in conversation some stray remark acts as suggestion. His Rigoletto takes one of its strongest ef- feots from a passage that he read in Journal de Gonecourt, which tells of an actor whom people had looked ou as the incarnation of gaiety, but whose bair, the night shat he went insane, turned white, disclosing for the first time the agony that be bad saf- fered. * Is will be recalled that in Renaud’s por- trayal of Rigoletto, in she first and second aots he weare a cap as the jester ; in the third aot, after learning the tragic fate of his daughter, he appears bareheaded and whitebaired, no looger a buffoon, but a man, broken-hearted. The method is simple, but one compelling of sympathy from the moment of its disclosure. This gleam of effectiveness came un- sought, for Renaud was reading at random when the soggestion presented itself. The idea of a physical realization of the character came ahout through viewing “The Wedding at Cana,” by Panl Veronese, whioh haugs in the Louvre Gallery ; be- tween two pillars is a baffoon. This gave him the idea for the costume. Don (Giovanni Renaud regards as the moss diffiouls role ever written, because of the flagrant contradictions between the man in the opera and the man in the poem. In the latter, Don Giovanni is vulgar, a de- banchee, yet of elegance and nement. the role a bal ube: mii e about e on of the hook of Da Ponte, whose habis is was to follow about theatrical com- and get up a play for them in ten or filteen days. To accomplish this in such haste, he found it convenient to take from the books of others ; in this case from she pau by Moliere, makiog a caricature 5. “‘Io order to do this role,” said Renaud, in mentioning the subject, ‘‘the artist must idealize him, as in the poem, findiog the refinement in his own soul, hut along with that refinement portray the hall-comic spiris of the travesty. “Theophile Gautier wrote ofl Den Gio- vanni concerning the many [qualities and contradictions demanded in portraying him in the version chosen by Mozars ; then closed with the words : ‘Judge for yoarsell whether one man can play him.’ ?’ Revaund, whose portrait of Don Giovanni hangs ‘‘on the line’’ with the greatest, after considering the points to be battled with, added modestly : ‘As it is so diffi- oult to do, there is some oredit in trying to doit.” Most artists bave roles in their repertoire that they prefer to all others, very often the ones for which they are least adapted. Renaud covers the ground in what he says on the subject, and with a stronger spirit of realization than comes to the majority. “I like best,” he asserted, ‘‘the part I am playing at the time. Like parents who love most shose of their children ill-favored by nature, the artist 1s apt to love most the part for which be is least suited. With age, this feeling diminishes. “One only becomes a great artist at the stage when one feels one cannot overcome one’s faults.’ The ability of sell-analyzation is eo strongly developed with Renaud thas he becomes almost a contradiction among sing- ers ; this shows iteelf, too, in his manner in conversation. Fall of animation, with gestures characteristically Gallie, when he reaches a point of close interest he is as ab- eolutely qniet o! manner as an English. man. The alertness of the man’s whole being is concentrated in his brain. He is the strange anomaly, a singing : g £ philosopher, oe who, with profound sem- | perament has realized the maxim, ‘‘Man, know thevsell,”” which the moss of us have penned many times on the lines of a copy- hook in ink smodged yoath, and with shat considered the incident closed. ‘“Terror,”” he wens on in introspection, “‘always seizes me on the stage ; thas feel- ing has never diminished, and yet this is a distinct contradiction to my sang froid in matters aside from my respousibility as an artiste. “The exception to this feeling of terror is when I hear in advance that people dis- like a role, then there springs up the de- sire to struggle to overcome prejudice that makes me forget. In this case I feel that | am strogeling against something tangible ; otherwise the struggle is to make myselt comprehensible, and against a something that may not be nnderstood,”’ Renaud created Thlramund in the per formance at the Paris Grand Opera with Yau Dysk iad Madame Caron, when hatred ran at prospect of the ntation of Wi 's ‘Lohengrin,’ a barytone for two weeks in advance bad received threatening letters telling him that the opera-house would be blown up. The night of the performance a mob stormed the place, and she municipal goard was oalied ont to face it. *‘Yes I never “That was during a fot thao ol Ambroise Thomas’ the Hi There a eT i ing i al & 3 ; It was a mot so applicable to Paris theaters shat anxiety turned to langhter. The next day Renaud received indignant letters again, this time from architects and superictendents. “‘It may be a joke,” they said, ‘‘but the kind of a ove that re- flects on our ability.” Perbaps the aptest characterization of the music Richard Strauss was made the other afternoon by Cleofonte Campanini : “Strauss has gone in search of the north pole; he has not got there yet, but he de- serves our praise for the hitherto unknown things that be has discovered.” “And the modern Italian ?”’ was the in- quiry naturally following. “Modern Italian music” —the reply was modest, but the tone one of feeling—*‘is so much liked and loved that I think there must be something in it. It appeals to the hears, especially Puccini. “But the north pole of music will not be discovered by Sirauss or any other ; its ocean will never be crossed. Methods of expression will change, hat finality will never be reached, for music is part of the forever of the world.” Perhaps Campanini voiced unconsciously the fact that the more calmly directed in- tellect of the North will mainly make the discoveries, but that of the South will ap- ply them to she needs of the heart. Bat find an Italian with head aod heart evenly balanced, and yoa will find another Campanini; begin your search, though, in youth. Grieg once spoke to me of Richard Strauss as ‘‘the man who conducts with bis lege.” The irony of his apt allusion lost its sting in the smile thas went with it. But we all know how important a part Stranes’ | play aside from their use in his walking. Campanini shares Grieg’s dislike for gymuoastics. ‘‘I object to an acrobatic con- ductor,”” he said that afternoon, bluntly, “Italians generally have a great deal of temperament, which runs away with them in trying to hold sheir forces together. I wae present onceat a performance of the ‘Tannbauser’ overture when the conductor worked himself into a frenzy. An encore followed. To show she thorongh training of his men he sat down, and let them re- peat it without his directing. ‘If it goes #0 well without him, why not rest oftener,’ asked a naive auditor. “According to my idea of conducting, the thing is to know the score by heart; with thas I bave the chorus and orchestra, and can do whas I like with them. “It is a mistake to suppose, as some do, that instrumensalists are more intelligent than singers hecanse of the great amonnt of labor and thought required by the in- stramentalist in his ars. ‘‘Some great singers are not great artists, But a singer like Renaud, for instance, who is both a great singer and a great artist, there you find the profound intelligence. “In the old made op of a duo, a trio and a romanza, intelligence playe small part, bus with modern opera the question is another. “All really great musicians, though, no matter in w field, are always simple, always approachable. But there are many others who bave heard that Beethoven was ecoentrie, and in emulating him, think they also have genius because they have acquir- ed sccentricity.”’ Presently there came a rift io the cloud of generalities that let in a light on Cam: panini’s nature, or rather on the natares of both; it was when he spoke of his wife. “From the day we were married,” he said, ‘‘we have made our careers together.” And that means that for twenty years these two Italians have led their art-life together, he conducting and she singing in the same companies, Had Daudet known of this his ‘‘Les Femmes d’Artistes’’ might have contained at least one comforting exoeption to a list of discomforting verities. Those knowing the history tell briefly this: In Madrid, Lishon and elsewhere Madame Campanini, ander the stage name of Tetrazzini, received, as is the case with Latin audiences, first honors as prima donna. When, last winter everythiog made for tremendous successes for Mr. Campanini, although more than once urged to sing, the wife remained in the baok- ground, happy at lass to leave all family laurels to the husband. It is only recently in “Andrea Chenier,’’ that she was heard for the first time in the history of the pres- ent en, ens. It was Madame Campavini who once dis- Played the collection of decorations granted im by sovereigns. ‘‘I never wear them,” be said, balf-apologetically eying them, aod then with a blush: “But I like to have them, it pleases the artist.” The personality of Dabussy is interest. ing, as shat of a new international figare in the musical world, and all the woe strongly because distance and retirement have lent to him something of the elusive. hearsal. The night of its premiere he smoked a hundred and ten cizarettes in a neighboring cale, while the andience fought over it at the Opera Comique. | Of tbat night Dubosey said : ‘When I . gave it to the pablio is was a love that was | dead; it was no longer mine.”” Bus the | moment of Dubussy’s relinquishing of the | opera was exciting | When Wagner's ‘‘Taunbanser’” was { brought out in that same Paris, which is | always pining for novelty, yet never recog- | nizes it when it sees it, a worse scene was enaoted, but ‘‘Pelleas et Melisande’’ was a good second. Duabussy chose well, not only as central artist, hut as champion, when he selected Miss Mary Garden to deliver bis wusioal propaganda. Had Wagner bad an Elizabeth of equal courage, the message of ‘‘Tann- haaser’’ might not have been so long de- ferred in its Parisian delivery. The first night of ‘‘Pelieas et Melisande’’ Mies Garden describes a scene in which management was very nearly obliged to close the theater.” “What did you do?" ‘I stood up and looked them in the eye,” was the answer, or tened ?’ No, on the contrary. I love a not with but obstacles, To A dv ty That e828 | lighttul, He has never attended a single public per. | formance of his master-work, ‘‘Pelleas et Melisande,’’ though present at every re-| | an ropply tie n it £ i i i 3 i : g ; | | f i : | | F i i ty. one marvelous in its sim- ; is trying mentally, bas y. “Wherever it is given there will be dis- quarrels and camps, as with Wagner, though Dabussy is no more like Wagoner shan black is like white. The slowness of its growth in appreciation is best reckoned hy the fact thas in four vears it has had bus fifty presentations in Paris, while Erlanger’s ‘Apbrodite’ received sixty in a twelve month.”’ Daring her study of Melisande, Dubussy would come three nights in the week to go through she music with Miss Garden. She would hegin by singing as random some phrase; from that point on they would pro- ceed, repeating a passage indefinitely until she had gained completely bis conception in its delivery, which he recognized when he heard is, shough anable himself to sug. gest the exact expression be wished. “Strange to say, I found it only when I gave the accompanying action,"’ was Miss Garden’s experience. ; ‘‘And Dobussy the man ?'’ was the ques- tion. “A great man,’ was her sammary, “‘sensitive as a baby, but cruel as a child.” Dabussy’s opera has not farnished her with ber only exciting incident. Another came during the long rou of *‘Louise,” at the Opera Comique. It was in the third act, just after the final note of her big air that some one in the gallery eried “Oh! Those io the neighborhood mistook it for “Fire !"” and paudemoniom ~tarted in the house from top to bottom. For five min. utes people battled with each other, and then the theater was empty. Hersell nuderstandiog the exclamation, and knowing thas fire had vothing to do with it, Miss Garden wae at sea; perhaps it was a demonstration against her? What ever it might be, it was distinctly remark- able. Then Miss Garden did something as characteristic as it was homorously de- She sat down on a chair ou the stage to see what they would do next. Meanwhile, another situation as delight- fully humorous, in the senve thas is Gallic, took place in the foyer. Monsieur Carre, the mal , seeing his sheatre bereft in a twinkling of ite audience, and unable, for the life of him, to ascribe a reason for it, rushed into the foyer, where he found it more or less incomplete in details or per- sonal adornment. ‘What are you doiog here ?’’ he called in astonishment. ““Whast are you doing here ?'’ echoed the mass, unruffling ite feathers, and wonder- ing what it was all abous. After this little improptn, Louise began to sing again. One-ball of the aodience bad retorned, and was demanding a repeti- tion of the big air, as the end of whioh, a short time before, a lady in the gallery bad fainted, after thoughtfully crying ont “Oh mn At sixteen Madame Schumaon-Heink was ready for her debus, singing at Gratz as one of the quartette in a performance of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. Madame Marie Wilt, the great prima donna, and the soprano of the occasion, delighted with the new contralto, promised to introduce her in Vienna. This was more easily proposed than accepted, the officer’s salary of her father, thirty doliare a month, not allow- ing many sours for his six daughters. t when Field-Marshal Von Benedick, who bad fought with bim in the cam of 66" in Italy, heard that the child of a comrade was about to lose a fine tunity, he came to the rescue with a et. book less full than the gold braid on bis oniform would outwardly warrant. So Ernestina, daly chaperoned, set out for Vienna. There accompanied by Madame Wils, she sang to she Imperial- Royal Court- Opera: Director Janver. The shoes that the young singer wore that day were a trophy from the barracks at Gratz. Like those of her younger sis- ters, they were made of the scraps of leath- er lefs over from the #oldiers’ brogauvs, and cost nothing. Clamping across the par- quet floor, iv a diess that reached to her ankles, she entered her judge's dandified resence. Mutual aversion was immediate. nestina could not sing any more than Janner could listen, and she went back to Gratz with no visible result from the spend- ing of the field-marebal’s money. At sixteen one cannot be very long un- bappy. This time there was ground for light-heartedness, and a month later she was able to make another journey, to Dres- den, to enter a competition for a vacant at the Royal there. Fate was inder than at Vienna. Two other appli- cants sang, but she was the one chosen for a three years’ contracs. Her first was as Azucena, in Verdi's “II Trovatore,’”’ and she laughed all the evening, because ao many Joople were there and her salary, sixty dollars a mooth, was double that of her father for drilling his soldiers. At that early day she sang all her roles by ear ; they came to her out of the air, as it were, for no great amount of musicial knowledge bothered her, as did a oertain oid oboe-player in the orchestra, who toiled for every atom of it that he gos. Viewing the young contralto, laughing as Azuecena in captivity and all the rest of her dismal moments, and learning a new part without a tithe of the labor thas he had in learning a cadenza, he promptly annoonced that she woald never amount to anything as a singer. Having a good share of that antipathy which the orchestial player so i d= ii : i | vocalist, he told her so. but in a critical moment of disaster later she remembered it. Part of her duties was to sing in the cathedral. One great feast-day, Corpus Chrigsi it was, the King and Queen of Sax- ony and their court marched in procession to mass, for which great musicial prepara. tions had been made. All went well until Ernestiva’s first solo came, Lost in won- der over the scene, and the sight of ‘‘s0 many beautiful yonug lieutenants,” as she describes it, the new contralto forgot thas such things as solos existed. A poke from Court Director Krebs’ baton bionght her back to reality. At the same instant she caught sight of bis stately, dignified pres. ence, and the wrath shining out through prediction swept over her to combine with the fright of she present. Tones came, not written in the mausio ; | ach and a w | opera, gave a new turn to ber art, a turn that began with the descent of Kreh's baton in the cathedral at Dresden. Bat through it all ber Austrian gaiety her teens and into celebrity abroad. Meanwhile, the old oboe-player, heing of a frank aud musical nature, repeated his dire predictions in season and ons. When she wesurned from her first successfol en- gagemens in London to sing agaio in Dres. den, she said to him: “Well, 1 have amonnted to something, baven’s I ? “The newspapers say 80.’’ he answered, with nigeardlv tartvess, ‘‘hut how dol know it ?'—By William Armstrong in Ainslee’s. The Baker Family. Editor Democratic Watchman. I have been interested in reading Sam- uel W. Raker's “Forty Years in Iowa.” I was well acquainted with hia whole family, his father, grandfather, ard father’s broth- ers, Joe and Charles. Charles belonged to company A, 45th regiment, and died from wounds received at South Mountain, Sep- tember 14th, 1862. Joe was in one of the departments at Washington and died soon after or during the war. Mr. Hiram Ba- ker, father of Samuel, was the last clerk in the store at Caurtin’s old rolling mill, when the firm of R. C. and 8. Curtin quit the store business in connection with the works and began paying all cash to hands in 1864. Mr. Baker was then taken to the forge and kept the books. My uncle Austin, who bad beeu book keeper, removed to his farm across the creek from the old rolling mill. Wheuo at the store Mr. Baker lived in my father’s family. When at the forge, until his family moved there, he lived at the house of my uncle, Joho Cartin. He re mained at the forge, in the house now oc- cupied by James Barger, until he left for the west in 1869. Samuel and the late Harry Cartin were boys together and were great friends. Hiram Baker was one of the best men I ever knew, quiet, religions, careful of everything, a good scholar, a good book- keeper, a good clerk. I was in the office with him for several years, as manager of the business of the firm. He was a great chewer of tobacco and quite anxious to quit it, so he would take a pledge for thir ty days and pus the tobacco and she pledge in a desk opposite one he used, and every day would go and read the pledge. The minute the month wae up he would take the pledge and tear it up and begin obew- ing tobacco again, but some years before bis death he wrote me and said he bad at lass been able to overcome the tobacco bab- it, and was then as much opposed to it as he was favorable to it years ago. Mr. Baker was the first postmaster at Curtin, and I was sworn in as his assistant at the time the office was opeved. It conld not be called *'Curtin,” like the sta- tion, as shere was one Curtin postoffice in the State, in Dauphin county, so the office was called Roland, after my father and grandfather. Is was opened in 1866 or "67, bat has lately been changed to ‘‘Cartin’ to make it correspond with the station, as the Cartin office in Dauphin county has been discontinued. Very truly yours, AusTIN CURTIN. Remember that your birthright is health. A diseased condition is unnatural. Nature hates disease. She is always working againss is, trying to oleanse it as a blos on her dominion. But Nature cannot work without material. If youn do not eat, you will starve in epite of all Nature's effors. You must eat gond food. Nature osnnot make bad 8 Is is Discovery finds its assist Natare; to it cures the diseased condition of the stom- of digestion and nutrition, so that food is not fouled belore being made into blood and flesh. It eliminates poisonous and effete material, and #0 pre- pares the way of Natare and makes het paths straight. In the whole range of medicine there is nothing which will heal the stomach and cleavse the blood like “Golden Medical Discovery.” Working Women Who are exposed to the strain of daily labor, the changes of weather, and who | | must work no matter how they feel, are! frequently has for the easier success of the | At the time ber | rogglar periods, and suppression, lead to heart was too gay to take bim seriously, | those most liable to ‘female troubles.” ir. more serions diseases ununsil the wan face, the shadowed eyes, the nervoos switchings of the hody all tell the story of serious de- rangement of the delicate womanly organs or arrest of their fonctions. In all such cases Dr. Pierce’s Favorite Presoription has wonderful efficacy. It quickly restores regularity, and gives health to the diseased parts. become full and bright. The whole body reflects the conditions of perfect health, When constipation clogs the system Dr. Pierce's Pleasant Pellets will work an ab- solute oure. A half a buodred vexing ailments ozn be traced to constipation. liousness, head- aslle, vertigo, ‘ avin Raivoduness, sleeplessness, tahility, men epres- gion, aod cold and feet are only some of the symptoms of constipation. Dr. Pierce’s Pleasant Pellets cure constipation and they cure its consequences, ——The star arose at the school enter- tainment to declaim his piece. “Lend me your ears !"’ he bawled. ‘*Ha 1" sneered the mother of the opposi- tion, bus defeated, pupil, ‘“‘that’s Sarah Jane Doran's boy. wouldn’t be his mother’s son if he hadn't want to borrow something.” The nervousness ceases, the cheeks Forty Years in lows, [Written especially for the Warcumax. | CHAPTER ¥. For the year of 1888 the Iowa state lair closed on Friday, September 7th, and on thas evening at 9.30 o'clock voar corres- pondent boarded a Rock Island train, with a visit to the old home countiy as the ob- jection. Au all night ride landed as in the inter-ocean city where the two following days and nights were spent visiting friends and taking advantage of she opportunity 0 again see a portion of that great oity of bueciness energy, and though somewhat acoustomed to such surroundings, we were perbaps possessed of somewhat alike wide- mouthed and opened eyed feeling, as the yearly Belleloute visitor from Marsh Creek or she other hack valleys in the county. On Sanday woring at the Clark & Washington streets M. E. church we listened for the first time to a sermon de- livered hy Chaplain McCabe as he was then called. Later he bas frequently so officiated in our own city, the last time joss previous to his demise, as a Bishop in his church. On Monday morning, the Iowa Special loaded with Des Moines and vicinity peo- ple en route to Colambas, Ohio, to attend the National Eocampment of the Grand Army of the Republic, arrived and took us along with its happy erowd of howe friends aud peighbors. The tip acioss Indiana and a portion of Ohio, was perhaps the most enjoyable we ever made, and if the editor whom we have koown to be al- ways just as much of an unconipromising Democrat as the writer is and bas been a Repuplican, will permit we will particular- ize politically, in a slight friendly manner. Towa 1s a Republican State notwithstand- ing the fact thas friend Meek’s party afiil- liated brethren of the press had she aundac- ity to place us in doubtful column in their last fall ante-election estimates. Our 50,000 to 80,000 majorities are jast as finely established as she 200,000 to 300,000 of our party in Pennsylvania, aod it is just as impossible to ‘‘root out the gang’ in Des Moines, as it is in Harrisburg and she only difference worthy of note is that we know how to build a State House fully equipped and ready for occupancy, with every penny of the public found used therefor honestly acconuted for, yet on the election eve, when the returns from the Keystone State are flashed across the street macy a throat is made hoarser than they wight bave been bad the WATCHMAN heen privileged to display its array of roosters, long kept in storage for use alone for its viotories in old Centre which, by the way, seems to have been turned over to Missie- sippi or Oklaboma. As the civil war bad the reputation of politically converting its returned soldiers, oar train was loaded with mostly onesided people. The campaign was on hand and our crowd seemed to be a united opinion, that Cleveland (one of the most consistent Democrats that ever held the job and bes- ter perhaps than some Republicans) shounld get and Ben Harrison given the place. Our train was appropriately decorated which seemed to arouse our brothers of these two States who were either asleep or husking corn on election day four years previous and our crowd just bad to respond to the yells and waving of, as it appeared, every- body ; farmers in the fields thrashing or plowing, occupants of vehicles on the roads families on the porch, crowds in every town at which we stopped, it was Harrison, Harrison, and the election later produced the same sound. Never before or since have we ridden on a train, loaded with Republicans entirely, and all the day long through a country that seemed to he aleo entirely of that political faith, Arriving at Columbus at 9.30 p. m. we were given the impression that the place was composed of passenger coaches and people, so great was the crush of humanity, and it was almost impossible to find a place of rest, thongh we did finally, ona cot in an attic. The following two days compassed the entertainment for the non- member of the G. A. R. Twenty years ago, nearly all of the leading commanding Generals were alive and in active evidence at this encampment and the array of these great men shat led the armies that saved our country, in the parade and on the reviewing stand ; some as badly maimed avd scarred as their brothers of private rank—Sickles who left a leg at Gestysbarg and Howard an arm at Seven Pioes, and both yet among the liviag was a privileged sight nst often accorded to we of the com- mon walks of life, Weduesday night found us ona train | bound for Pittsburg where we found our train ready to give the mountain trip to our destination. Deprive the 18 year old school boy of his castom from infancy of mountain rambling and transplant him to a plain, with the horizon and blue <ky only in sight above his own level ; impris- ou him thus for twenty years and then re- turn him to his native heath, be and only such of like conditions can realize the pe- culiar sensation that took possession of this chap when after such a lapse of time he again found hymself among the moun- tains and hills of his old home. A freight wreok ahead between Tyrone and Miles burg, kept our train until after night, =o that 11 00 p. m. Friday, September 13th, found usin bed in a hotel at the latter place. The following morning in the house known many years ago as the resi dence and drug store of C. G. Ryman, a lady, sweeping the dooryard, was recog- aized as the daughter of John Lyman, of Ms. Eagle, and it took some time to oon. vince her that the bearded man before her was once a schoolmate and really the party be represented himself to be. George H., who lived near Curtin’s Forge, was her brother. Avother brother Thomas, was found by the writer, prior to this time in an emaciated condition scarcely able to walk, oo the streets of Des Moines. He had recently come from she south west where be bad contracted a complication of kidney and long trouble to which be suo. | cumbed three months later. We coovidered | it a duty to take him into our home, cared for him and gave him a christian barial in our beaatiful Woodland cnantry. A morning walk soon found us at Car- tin’s Works, and Mount Eagle, where we took an afternoon train to Howard. In passing the former places, quite a few old friends were called upon, but as as Miles- barg unknown and passed up as a stranger io a strange land, until our identity was enforced. At Mount Eagle was met several of the well known Leathers family and bad first entertainment among friends, by par- taking of a noonday meal with the family of William B. Leathers, whom we were pained to, a few years later, learn of his tragic death in his own factory. As Howard the first friendly encounter was with a former chum and schoolmate who performed the tonsorial act and knew not his customer until the next day. A Sonday school picnic, in ‘‘Butler’s Woods was at its height, and many a wondering, searching Jook was directed toward the unknown stranger who lingered around and returned up town with the last of the crowd ; and withheld his identity until at the ice cream festivities held in Kline's vacant store room that evening. The following ten days were given to re- rambling over the community where be- yond twenty years we bad grown up with and learned to know so well. The old sobool yard, the swimming hole, the coast- ing hills, and the ‘‘Back alley’ wherein we hid with other ‘‘towp boys'’ when playing Hallowe’en pranks ; down to the furnace and rolling mill, up to Mons. gomery's tan yard, up the mountain side where we went in boyhood to trail down by aid of that well known bell, the old spotted cow, who led she way home, by mean- dering paths, rather than driven. A trip out in the ridges, pear the “Divide” was taken and a stop at the old farm, where we lived for one year, a por- tion of the ‘Uncle John Smith place’ and in the neighbor of the Halls, and with a friend Jobn Holter, did not omita visit “down the creek’’ among the Pletcher’s, Shank’s and Holter’s, old friends and ao- quaintances were everywhere at band, and only those of like experience cav realize the real enjoyment and pleasure of again minoglinog with friends and boon ocom- panions of boyhood days. Howard at the time we lefs is, bad no thoroughfares called streets. One ‘‘Big road” extended from Packer's bridge to Heverly’s black- smith shop ; another orossed this, extend- iog from Knoll’s tavern to 300 feet beyond the ‘‘cross roads.’ The only public “Back alley?’ extended along the rear of the scheol play ground perhape two-thirds the distance of the ‘‘Big road.” The newly incorporated town bad just passed an ordi- navoe permitting ‘‘hoardwalks ;'’ and the many ‘‘woodpiles’’ were thereby forced to the rear premises. Ono this visit, advance ment was very apparent. Streets were in use from Montgomery's tan yard to Spring’s Lock, while Tipton’s Field and the Baker clearing were well covered with residences aod necessary streets, beyond uncle Johnny Longs. Oar old howe still the same stood opposite the Methodist chnrch, and we were bold enough to ask the stranger oo- capants, to permit an inspection of the premises and a look through the rooms,and at the walls, that were the first onr eyes have remembrance of heholding. In the graveyard across the way, (or cemetery of today), familiar names were seen cut on the headstones marking the resting places of very many of the older people of our day and among them many ancestors, some of whom were among the first to be placed in that Silent City. The WATCHMAN of February 26th announces the death of another old schoolmate, Miss Sallie Hager- man. Asoue hy one we pass away, we heed the notice that our generation will soon be of the past. The allotted time to be spent in the old bome having expired, we passed on to other places in the State and county that olaimed an interest, and as we again find encroachment on space getting in is work, | pase up further reminiscences for a future | writing, but may remain in Howord while | we intervene, with the next article on | “kuockers’’ at home. S. W. BAKER, Towa, March 5th, 1809. | Des Moines, ——'"7on say this man stole your coat,’’ said the magistrate. ‘‘Do I understand that you prefer charges against him ?*’ “Well, no, Your Houor,” replied the plaintiff. *‘I prefer the coat, if it’s all the sate to you.” Fig and Not Jelly.—Make the usoval plain lemon jelly ; put some cut up figs and shelled nats into a ring mold, and fill with warm jelly; pat on ice,and after turn- ing out fill the centre with whipped cream. ——Cracks in floors may be neatly and permanently filled with a paste made from old newspapers, flour, alam and water, thoroughly boiled together. ——Do you trust your husband implio- itly?" **What a question! Why, of course Ido —%0 a certain extens.” ——Jimmie—*'My ma’s gone down-town to 00 some bills.” ‘ommie—*‘Pooh! The man comes to the house to collect ours!” ~The cause for scours is overleeding, filthy quarters, cold milk, sour milk, feed- ing grain with the milk, dirty pails, ex- posure to cold rains and such unnatural conditions. ~The giant bees of India build honey- combs as high as eighteen feet.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers