The Centre reporter. (Centre Hall, Pa.) 1871-1940, October 30, 1873, Image 1

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

Frem ths outskirts of lis tews,
Whers of old ths mils-stem# stosd.
Sow s stranger, lookiag down
I behold ths shadowy srown
Of ths dark and hauntad wood.
Ia U changed, or am I change.! f
Ah ! ths oaks are fresh and grssit.
But ths friends with whoa I range.!
Through their thickets are sstrangsd
By ths rears that intervene
Bright as ever (lows ths see.
Bright as ever shine* the sun,
But alas! they seem to me
lot the sun that need to he,
Nor ths tides that used to nui.
• Aewgfhfcew "4/VrwaA,"
• N
The month of September is gohlen.
But ths month of the metis* red .
Tbs elm tree is yellow and olden.
Its leaves are half gone from its head.
We ride iu the heart of the fere*t.
The lichen* are grown on each trunk ;
Bed lieech leavsgpr* hrtuaed to the sonvt.
And uito wood hollow* arc sank.
Ws eoent the mnek lirsatli of October.
The fragrance of soft woodland smell*
Kveeit of the moss**
The rainbow Unts pale ui the dell*
Ths spider* thin goe*atner weaving*
Beem like cotton field* against the blue eky
Their webe * re forever deceiving,
And dies', our eyes as well as the file*.
The great bell at the North-western
Terminus was riugiug hi collect the
passengers for the train that was about
to start, and the platform was in the
state of confusion usual at such times
Douglas Obariteu, who had come to
the train to say good-by to departiug
friends, stood watching the train as it
passed binm
In one of the end carriages sat a
young girl of about seventeen, and as
she went by young Charlton she turned
toward him, so that for an instant he
saw her face dearly. It was only for
an instant, for the train had quickened
its speed by that time, but it was one
of those instants that alter the whole
of a man's life and feelings. The face
was s very lovely one; it seemed to
him like an angel's, and it threw a spell
over him from which he felt, even in that
brief space of time, that he would never
again be free. It was a bright face, of
which he had caught that momentary
glimpse, with a fresh color and dark
eyes, bnt there was a rather timid, half
frightened look abont it, which, per
haps, gave it sneh a strange interest
for him.
When the train had left the station
Douglas still stood where he hail been
all along, rooted to the spot, with his
eyes fixed in the direction of the de
parting carriage, and then he started
and walked home. Forweeks that sweet
face haunted him, bnt the stern duties
of life called him, and except at occa
sional intervals the vision faded away
Years passed quickly by. Douglas
Charlton was no longer the uuknown
medical student. From the first he had
shown great talent, and soon made way
in his profession. One or two fortunate
cures he had effected, soon after taking
his degree, had giren him a good posi
tion almost at starting, and Dr. Charl
ton was now living in a nice house in
one of the fashionable parts of Lon
don, with a practice which many an
older physician much envied. His
name was down among the officers at
several of the London hospitals, for
though he was well enough known to
have enabled him to dispense with most
of them, he had no idea of giving np in
his prosperity what had been a step
ping-stone to" it. He had nearly con
cluded his visits one day, and had only
one patient left to see. When she came
near him and he saw her clearly, he
gave a great start, in spite of his habit
ual self-control. There was the face
that had been for years a part of his
life. But how much altered ! Pale,
sad, with all the bright, girlish look
gone, be wondered that he recognized
it, and yet he never for one moment
doubted that it was the same. It had
lost none of its beauty, to his mind, at
least, but seemed, ii possible, more
loYely now than it had in his dreams.
It required seme mastery at himself to
be able quietly and calmly to examine
_ and prescribe* for the patient, but he
did it
As be drove away from the hospital
he could *ot help thinking that this
meeting was not chance, bat a prear
ranged opportunity for him to be of use
to this poor girl, who looked as if she
bad had so much sorrow. He learned
that her name was Rhoda Dun mo re.
A few days after, when inquiring. Dr.
Charlton found to his surprise that his
patient had left the hospital, bat her
address was given him.
It was some days before Dr. Charlton
could find time to pay the visit to which
he looked forward with so much inter
est and pleasure; but at last a alight
hill in the pressure of his engagements
enabled him to carry out his wish.
He drove to the address given, and
fond himself at the door of a respecta
ble house in a quiet street in the mid
dle of London. Having asked if Miss
Dnnmore was at home, and having re
ceived an answer in the affirmative, he
gave his card to the servant, and was
ushered by her into Rhoda's presence.
She rose to meet him with an air of
some surprise, but with great courtesy.
"Miss Dun more," Dr. Carlton began,
with the utmost deference, "I hope you
will excuse the liberty I have taken in
calling to see yon."
Rhoda smiled very sweetly, as she
bowed and pliced a chair for her visi
"You ftiay remember me," he oon
tinued, sitting down. "I saw you one
day in Dr. Blount's place."
"I could hardly fail to remember any
one whose manner to me had been so
kind," said Rhoda, and her voice Bound
ed to Douglas Charlton as the sweetest
music he had ever heard.
"I was much interested in your case,"
he resumed, "and upon hearing, a few
days ago, much to my astonishment,
that you bad left the hospital, I took
the liberty of finding out where you
were and calling to see you."
"Please do not speak of it as a liber
ty, Dr. Charlton. I can only feel deep
ly the honor yon have done me by this
kind visit."
"I was glad to hear you were bene
fited by your stay at Victoria Park. I
hope you have not done nnwisely by
coming away so soon."
"Oh, I think not; I am wonderfully
better; I could hardly fail to be ho after
the care and attention I received there.
I really was ashamed to stay longer and
keep out ethers who had more need of
it than L"
"I hope you will Jbe very careful of
yourself now; you look far from
"I am verv careful, I assnre you."
Dr. Charlton stayed talking a few
moments more, and then taking his
hat, roseto go.
"I shall hope to look in again some
day and see how you are getting on, if
you will allow me."
"I can only thank yon again and again
for your kindness in taking so much
trouble about me; you may fully be
lieve in my gratitude."
Bhe held out her hand as she spoke,
and Dr. Charlton took it in his as
reverentially as if it had been the hand
of an angel.
He had no more patients to see that
day, and was able to give himself np to
happy dreams. He knew that he was
in love ; he had at last met the being
whose image had been with him
through so many years of his life; and
far from being disappointed, the reality
had surpassed his imagination. Her
sweet voice, her lovely faoe, her courte
ous manners, her air of refinement and
high breeding, all charmed both heart
and mind. He wondered whether the
(ime would oome when he oould ask
her to share his home, when he oould
raise her to the position for which she
0 was so well fitted. He started at last
from this dream, and smiled to think
l- IIKIA. 1\ I IJTX, I'Mitor and I "i-opriotor.
how much ruore like a romantic hoy hi*
thought* had been than like the grave
Pr. Charlton.
As soou as ho reasonably could, ho
rniil Khoda Puninoro another visit,
which was fallowed by many other*.
Ho was wore and wore rhuuol with
her every time ho saw her. Ho had
found out, just lately, that alio got her
iiviug by teaching, and knowing well
how uttorlv unlit she was for *ueh work,
ho resolved to speak to her at once, and
ask her to be hi* wife.
With thi* ptiriHuio in hia wind, he
went to her one day, about six months
after hia first visit, and after his usual
questions about her health, for ho al
ways wade that the ostensible reason of
hia viaits, and a few conventional re
marks, he said, rather suddenly:
'• Miss Punmore, I wish to tell yon a
Ksi.hU smiled and bowv.l, and he re
" A young man was once standing
upon the platform of a railway station
just as a train was leaving it. As it
passed him, ho saw in one of the car
riages the face of a young girl. It was
•only a face at Ue window,' but it
haunted him through his life, through
his studies, through the beginning of
hia career, through his prosperity. Af
ter many years, chauce, as it is com
monly called, threw him into the way
of this young girl, then grown into a
woman ; and he found her mind and
heart as lovely to him as her face had
been and still was. He took many op
portunities of seeing her, and found
that the more he saw her, the more he
loved her." Ho paused an instant.
" I was that vonng man. and vonrs was
the face of which I caught that glimpse.
Rhoda, with the whole force of my soul
I love yon ; be my wife, make my home
a heaven to me."
He seized her hand as he finished
speaking, and pressed it to his lips.
Rhoda, who had listened all through
with a face on whish pain and pleasure
had been contending expressions, gent
ly withdrew her hand, as soon as his
grasp of it was a little loosened ; and,
sighing, said sadly:
"You have told me your story ; let
me tell you mine."
After'an instant's silence she resumed,
in a low voice :
" I was the only child of very rich
parents. Their name was Graham.
They idolized me, and let me have my
own" way in everything. I grew up
amid every possible luxury and com
fort. Everybody called me very beau
tiful ; everrbody called me very clever;
everybody "knew that I should be very
rich* Is it to be wondered at that my
head was turned, that I expected when
I entered society to have every one at
my feet ? I was not disappointed. At
seventeen I came out in London, ami
was prononneed by everybody the belle
of the season. Among my admirers
there was one for whom I soon began
to entertain a strouger feeling than
friendship. He professed to be v. rv
much in love with me ; I was madly in
love with him. My father did not like
tfce idea of my marrying this young
man, for the Hon. Arthur Braeebridge's
name had been heard in conjunction
with some not very reputable proceed
" Arthur Bracebridge !" broke in Dr.
Charlton ; *' lie must have been the
son of whom Lord Bracebridge so often
spoke during hia last illness."
"No doubt; he had been a great
trouble to his parents. If I had asked
my lather earnestly to let me marry
this yonug man, he would have con
sented at last, for he alwavs gave in to
me ; but I was willful and headstrong ;
and as he had once refused I did not
care to asked him again, but yielded to
Arthur's entreaties, and ran away with
" Was it then that I saw you ?"
" Most likely; we went by the
" That was the station. This then
accounted for the half-frightened look
your face wore that dav."
"Yes; I wan half frightened and
half ashamed of what I was doing, but
it was too late then to give np. We
went a few miles out of town, and were
married next morning. Do not blame
me too much ; I acted very badly, bat
I was very young, and I have been
punished enough."
" I blame yon, Rhoda ? My life must
have been a mnch more perfect one
than it has been, to give me the right
of jndging others."
"My conduct broke my father's
heart," oontinued Rhoda, her voice
Snivering ; "he never forgave me, but
ied soon after, without seeing me, and
leaving all his property away from me.
I had soon seen my mistake. My hus
band was not unkind, but he was very
giddy and wild ; anil I repented my
folly' bitterly. When my father died
and left me nothing, Arthur was very
Angry with me, and from that time mv
life became more and more wretched.
When we hail been married a few years.
Lord Bracebridge diedf and my hus
band sncceeded him in the title. We
were rich then for a time, but a very
short one. Arthur took to racing, and
in a very little while had gambled all
his princely estate away, and involved
himself deeply in debt. Then came
what seemed to me the bitterest trial of
my life. My husband left me suddenly,
and weni I knew not where. I have
never heard of him since. Being left
entirely upon my own hands, I assumed
the name of Dunmore, and under it
got employment as a governess, snffi
cient to keep me, until the illness came,
which prevented me from doing any
thing more. The father of some of
mv pupils most kindly interested him
self in getting me into the hospital, in
which yon met me. Now you know
why I cannot say yes to yon, and enter
upon what would be great happiness
for me."
She ceased, and thov were both silent
for some time. Dr. Charlton was the
first to apeak.
"O Rhoda," he said, "yon cannot
tell what a dream of happiness yon have
shattered. I have so hoped I might be
able to make von my wife."
" Have I done wrong, Dr. Charlton,
in allowing yon to come and see me so
often, knowing what 1 know? If so,
believe me it has been done in perfect
innocence. Your visits have been snch
a pleasure to me, that I have never
thonght to what they might lead ; in
deed had the thonght crossed my mind,
I should have dismissed it as out of the
" I can't see why yon should have
done that, Rhoda ; I can't imagine that
any one could see you often without
loving you. But don't fancy that I
wish you to think you have done wrong;
for, if I had known all that I know now,
I should not have given up one of the
opportunities that I have had of meet
ing you."
"Your visits have been the rays of
sunshine in my dark life."
" We may meet still as friends ? "
"As friends who love and trust one
She put ont her hand, and Douglas
Charlton, taking it in both his, said :
" i am going now, Rhoda, for I have
a great disappointment to fight down ;
but we shall soon meet again."
They parted, and Dr. Charlton drove
awav, his heart filled with sadness.
Ho could net bear to go to see Rhoda
for some days ; but after a time his
visits began again. They were not
merely those of friendship, for he had
noticed many symptoms in her lately
which showed that her old complaint
was only checked, not cured ; his ex
perience told him tlist it wss only a
matter of lime with her uow, for though
skill could do much to lrugthau her
life, it could not save it
His heart sank within him to think
how soon he might loss this dear friend,
this woman that he loved with his whole
heart; but he sometimes hoped that his
unremitting care and attention seeuied
likely to lie rewarded, as she did not
appenr to grow worse.
• • • •
One afternoon, on going to see Hlukls,
Pr. t'harlu u was quite allocked to see
a change had taken place in her during
the few days that had intervened since
his last visit. Hia practiced eye saw
only too clearly how short a time of life
there tagw remained to her, and a feeling
of uuntterable anguish came over him.
Khoda herself seemed quite unoou
cious that there was any very particu
lar change for the worse in her, and roae
to meet him with a very bright air. She
held a letter in her hand, aud directly
he had sat down she gave it to him.
It was fiom the lawysr of the Brace
bridge family, and told her that the
writer had received certain news of the
death, more than a year ago, of Lord
Pr. Charlton's head swam as he read
this. The thought of how much happi
ness might have been his, if this news
hml only been known eaVLier, seemed to
take away for a moment all power f
thought and speech. He recovered him
self in an instant, and going to Hhoda,
took both her hands in kia, and said;
"Then you ate mine, lthoda."
"Yours in the sight of heaven," she
"Oh, my darling," he burst out, if wo
hail only known before, what happiness
wight hare been ours!"
"And why not now, Douglas? Do wo
not love one another still ?
"Yes, SIT Rhoda, dearly. I should
like us to be married at ouee," he ad
ded, rather hastily; "bnt you are not
fit to go to church. Will yon let me
marry you here to-morrow ? and then I
can take you home with me. 1 think
yon might manage the drive."
"Oh, yes, Douglas. lam very well;
how anxious you are about me!"
"We are always anxious about those
we love, Rhoda," he said sadly. "I
must go now to get the wedding license,
and wake arrangements for our wed
ding. Good-by, my darling," he said,
takiug her in his arms and kissing her
fondlv ; "vou will see me early to-mor
When he returned next morning, he
was horrided to find what havoc those
few hoars had made in her. She was
lying on a sofa when he entered the
room, and hardly attempted to get np
to receive him.
"Are you feeling worse, Rhoda?" he
asked anxiously.
"I don't think so; bat I feel very
"The clergyman will Ins here soon,
and your landlady and her daughter
will he the only witnesses of onr mar
He sat dowu by her side, and they
were both silent. He kuew that his
married life could last only a few days,
perhaps only a few hoars, and this
knowledge made him too sad to talk.
In a short time the clergyman came;
the ceremony was completed, and Doug
las Charlton and his wife were alone.
He had told her how critical her state
was, and she hail borne it quietly and
After a time she broke the silence by
"I shall never see your home, Doug
las; mine, too, it would be now."
" Rhoda, don't talk so! ( can't bear
" We shall keep our marriage feast in
heaven, Douglaa, and it will be better
there than on earth."
He did not answer, and there was si
lence again. This time he was the first
to speak.
"I)oyon still feel so tired, darling?"
" Yes, dear, very tired; but very
" Happy, Rhoda, when yon are going
away from me for ever ?"
"Not for ever, my husband ; wo
shall meet again in heaven, and there
will be no parting there."
* 9 • 9 * •
Dr. Charlton saw no patients that
day, and the next morning the passers
by" his house saw tnat it was closely
shut up.
9 9 • 9 9 •
In a corner of the churchyard be
longing to the parish in which Dr.
Charlton's estate stands, under a weep
ing ash, which shades it oliko from sun
and rain, is a plain white marble tomb
stone, and on it is inscribed:
The flowers ronnd that grave seem
the brightest in the whole churchyard.
Tinalry't Maytuinr.
A Polaris Council.
Morton speaks of a consultation be
tween Hall and the officers of the
Polaris, held about the beginning of
September, 1871, with regard to their
mode of procedure. Thejquestion was,
Hhall we go north or seek harborage
here, if the turn of the season is now
taking place ? At this consultation
there were present Buddington, Ches
ter, Tyson, the Doctor and Morton.
The ice was beginning to come down
in our channel in dense packs, but
there wero still two channels or lewis
along cash of the shores. Hall asked
the Doctor for his opinion first—asking
him first, as Morton naively says, bc
cansn he was probably the least capable
of giving an opinion, being a landsman.
The Doctor's opinion was to go to the
west channel, where there was still
some water, and to go north yet as far
as possible. I was asked next, says
Morton, and I concurred with the Doc
tor, saying we had better push as far
north as possible to prosecute the ob
ject of our expedition ; bnt, in the
meantime, to look oat for good winter
quarters in case we shonld be beset.
Not to go back on any aoconnt, because
"up there " every mile is a mile. Ty
son followed, and said, " Look oat for
winter quarters—for a harlior immedi
ately." Chester said, "Go ahead so
long as you can make a mile." Bud
dington said, " Get into winter quar
ters," "and," adds Morton, " 1 think
Bnddington showed the white feather
here. We should have gone on."
SHE GOT OFF. —Says the Perry coun
ty (Pa.) Democrat of recent date : A
ysung girl took passage on a train
from Millcrstown to go to Newport.
When approaching the latter place she
was seen to leave tier seat, go out on the
platform, and before she oould be pre
vented leaped therefrom. The train
was moving at about ten miles an hour,
and of course those who saw her jump
expected to find her a mangled corpse;
but to the surprise of all, when the em
ployes of the road ran bask to where,
she was lying, they found her able to
get up, having escaped with some severe
bruises. : Bhealleged that she had never
been in tha cars before and that a lady
had told her that this was the plaoe to
get off. Without waiting for the train
to stop she had followed the direction
of the lady passenger.
A Bloody Insurrection.
A t**|e from Hhmlsu UWIor) .
On the 3d of Deownber, 1835, the
couspirators made simultaneous and
{ireooneerted attempts in several of the
orge cities of the empire, to unfurl the
standard of revolt ainoug such regi
ments of the army as were kuown to be
disaffected toward the new caar.
At Ht. Petersburg!!, two regiments of
the iiu|>erial ftKitguards, under the corn
maud of Colonel) llraganoff and Jeae
huriex, left their barrarka, and marched
upon the principal government build
ings. The State Chaucellerie fell all
easy prev to them, but at the building
of the W'ar Department, which resem
bles a small fortress, they met with a
determined resistance.
Nicholas, the new czar, who was be
lieved by the conspirators to be at
Tsarskoe Zelo, hud returned during the
night, sud, upon hearing of the revolt,
collected five sqtiadrous of thedraeoous
and Cossacks of the ' guard, auf two
sections of the light artillery, with
which he made a sudden sud furious
onslaught upou the insurgents. The
letter offered heroic resistance ; but,
Iwiug mowed down with grupeehot, as
they were, they fiuallr hail to stirreu
der. Many of the aohlier* and officer*
were slain by the dragoons after they
had thrown down their arms. Several
conspirator* had hurried through the
streets, and in a loud Toice called upou
the people to rise in aruis against the
uew our. But the people paid uo at
tention to them, and the Cossacks, who
secured the city after the suppression
of the insurrection, had no difficulty in
resisting them.
Of the military prisoners, all the
commissioned officers were sent to the
fortress of Schlussclburg, where they
were thrust into the subterranean dun
geons. The civilians were confined in
irons in cells at the Krasmkoy jail.
An investigation was at once set, aud,
through torture, the names of the ring
leader* amoug the two regiments ef the
guard were easily ascertained. They
gave as the most active among them,
the two colonels, and beside, Majors
Hikoff, Toalirog, Pokiss, Captains Za
gar, Rrohany, (Vzof iroff, and Lieuten
ants Tengen, Hchenck, Vlrgixy, and
Buolot. The officers themselves reso
lutely refused to give any information.
On the 26th of December the High
Commission, eotnpeeed of sixty high
civil and military dignitaries, assem
bled at the large nail of the ministry of
justice in order to trv the conspirators.
I'he czar and most ef his male relations
were present at the opening of the court.
The venerable General Oortachakoff
presided. Tbe prisoners were led in,
all of them heavily ironed. Colonel
Rraganoff, upon seeing the oxar, shout
ed to him in a sneering tone, " German
dog ! German dog ! " But no uot ice
was taken of this insnlt, and the trial
commenced. The proceedings were so
summary that the whole trial did not
last more than five days Late in the
evening of the 31st of December tbe
court pronouueod the following terrible
sentence :
"All the commissioned officers caught
with arms in Uieir hands shall snffer
death by shooting, except Colonels
Hragancff and Jeachariex, whoa*
tongues shall be torn out of their
months by the public executiouer,
wherenpon they shall be hanged until
they are dead ; the Second and Fourth
regiment* of the Foot Guards shall be
decimated ; the civilians shall receive
one hundred stroke* of the knout." The
next day wan New Year's, in the new
calendar, and so the sentence was not
axecnted until the 2d of January, 1826.
St. Petersburgh, as may Ins imagined,
was in a state of intense saltation from
early dawn on that evennnl and mo
mentous day.
Immense crowds thronged the streets,
and frequently were dispersed by the
mounted police. At ten o'clock the
sixtT-four doomed officers and nineteen
civilians were led ont upon the Ncwski
Prospect, where the execution was to
take place. Colonels Braganoff and
Jeaehnriez were dressed in suit* of
coarse brown linen, snd the executioner
placed them under the huge gallows
which hail been erected for them. Both
of them manifested remarkable forti
tude, which did not disconcert the exe
cutioner a little. With visible embar
rassment he told the two brave conspir
ators: "I must now tear ont your
tongues!" Colouel Jeaehnriez allowed
him to open his mouth and to seize hi*
tongue with a large steel forceps. The
vast concourse of spectators uttered
cries of horror a* the executioner vio
lently pulled it out. The tongue, bleed
ing and horrible to look npou, came
ont. Jeaehnriez, uttering a heavy
groan, sank to the ground, while n
steam of blood poured from his mouth.
He was immediately picked up by the oa
sis tan t of the executioner, who strangled
him ou the gallows. Braganoff proved
less tractable. The executioner had to
force open his mouth, iu doing which,
he broke the front teeth of the unfortu
nate man. Five minutes afterward,
BrnganofT, too, hod breathed his last.
Next the officers, who were to be shot,
wero led forward, with their backs
turned toward the Neva river. Twelve
of them were selected to die first. They
mettheirfate bravely. Bhonting, "Long
live Russia!" they received tho volley
of bullets which twenty-four picked
riflemen fired at them, f'ive 101 l dead.
Tho other seven had been but slightly
wounded. Three more volleys were re
quired before all of them had boen put
out of their misery. Four times more
this terrible scene was re-enacted. At
last all of the victims were dead. They
lay in a largo heap. Tho immense
crowd of spectators was shuddering.
But now followed a still more thril
ling scene, but fortunately it was not to
end in a butchery like the ouo we have
just described.
Fourteen hundred soldiers, without
arms, were marched out in order to be
decimated !
Nothing could be more frightful than
the spectacle whieh these poor victim
in their intense anguish and uncertainty
presented. For none of them knew
which were to suffer death, and which
were to be spared. They looked with
horror and dismay upon the pile of
corpses in front of them. An aid-de
camp of the emperor appeared. He
walked along the ranks, touching every
tenth man with his sword, and order
ing those thus designated to step for
The poor men did so, more dead than
alive. When the whole of the victims
had been selected, the adjutant said :
" Yon have dencrvcd death ; but His
Majesty, the Czar, in hi* clemency,
will pardon you !" A deafening shout
of relief; repeated again and again,
went up from the dense throng of spec
tators. The soldiers, who had already
looked death in the face, were over
come by their emotions. They embraced
one another, and they cried and laugh
ed by turns. Bnt they were rapidly
marched back to their barracks, and the
police dispersed the spectators.
Thus was the reign of Nicholas the
T'rst inaugurated!
'i le oolored operatives in two of the
teb.iceo factories at Richmond, Va., no
tified their employers that, appreci
ating the difficulties of the present
financial situation, they are willing to
work for two or tkreo weeks without
drawing their wages.
Professor k lug's Ascension.
tool tier i'rillou. I) >|< fi.ut Plf.
.......n. V. II tkn. Mile* ii.... . to*
WWII* SuimUlm I'ht I>|mi All l'*r
rsttls Told Is loltrollng trruiml *1
Iki Trig.
It will be remembered that Profeaaor
King, the aeronaut, made an asueusion
from the Pemigewaaset Trotting Park,
the aaceuaiou Iwing the eloaiug event
of the tlrafton County Fair. The bal
loou left the ground at 3.17 r. it., and
six minutes later waa lost to the sight
of the assembled spectators, from the
density of the clouds into whioli it
passed. Nothing was heard of the bal
loon until three days after, although a
lauding waa made after a trip of two
liuura aud a half. It was feared that
the ballon bad followed the course taken
last year, upon thd occasion of the as
cension made from the same locality,
when a lauding was made, after a series
of dangerous experiences, in the woods
of Canada.
Mr. King reports that when he reach
ed the regions above the clouds every
vestige of the earth was hidden from
his view except a loug dark mountain,
which appeared to be ten or fifteen
miles north or uertheast of him. This
was, doubtless, Moosilauke. All the
other mountains were oovered by clouds,
the upper surfaces of which see filed to
conform to the mountains and valleys.
For a time he seemed to lie drawing
toward the mountain whieh he first
wv, but a* be ascended higher he
probably took a different direction, for
the mountain faded from view or was
lost in the clouds. It had been Mr.
King'* intention not to ascend above
the clouds, but to avail himself of the
surfsce current aud thus journey to
ward the l'asaumpsic ltiver Railroad,
over which he might be enabled to take
the uigbt train, and reach Lowell early
in the morning. Tins plan was frustra
ted by a trifling circumstance. As the
ballot'in was only partly filled with gas
at starting, the lower section was drawn
np on one side. Upon attempting to
pull the valve-cord he found that it was
retained by the cloth or by entangle
ment with the collapsing cord, and ae a
disturbance of the latter was uot par
ticularly desirable, be deemed it the
better course to let the gsa distend the
balloon and thus free the cords.
At 8} the barometer indicated only
fifteen inches, or a height of 18,022 feet
above Plymouth, which has itself sn
elevation of 488 feet, making all altitude
above the sea level of 18,510 feet
Fifteen minutes later the barometer
had sunk to 14.75, showing an altitude
about 18,950 feet, or nearly three and
three-fourth mile*. Mr. King was at
this time sailing high above the clonds,
aad not far south of the Pranounia
Mountains, although he had nothing to
indicate the latter fact at the time. He
began to realise that he had reached s
cold region. An overcoat became de
sirable, and there were other indiAk
tion* than a cold temperature of great
altitude. For example, he found that
the pulsations of Ida heart were very
rapid anil very noticeable, aud there
were disagreeable sensations in the
head. The thermometer at S{ was st
twenty-six degrees, and it fell suoees
sively to twenty-three at 4 o'clock, and
tw*uiy-one at 4J, the balloon having
fallen* to abont 18,500 feet at the latter
reading. The wet bulb was covered by
a film of ice, and the mercury therein
condensed slower, marking successively
twenty-eight, twenty-four, and twenty,
while tin- dry bulb marked tweuty-six,
twenty-three and twenty-one respective
ly. It afterward sank to nineteen,
while the dry bulb indicated twenty
four at 4.20* when the balloon bad
descended to within 10,824 feet of the
scs level. At 4.25 the balloon was st
sn elevation of 13,747 feet, snd the tem
perature was twenty-four, the wet bulb
still indicating nineteen. While the
balloon was at its greatest elevation,
the gas had expanded aud distended
the envelope to it* fullest capacity, al
though it uad not been halt filled at
Mr. King gradually began to see
through rifts in the clonds, but nawght
bnt forest* met hi* view. He could
also see beyond the cloud banks in a
southerly direction. Not long after
leaving Plvmoutb, but after he git
above the clonds, he heard several dia
charge* of cannon or roct blasting, but
no other aonnd came tip to him in his
lofty quietude, the music of the moun
tain nils snl cascades, even, being
hashed. As he descended toward the
clonds, he heard a railioad train be
neath him, and, a* he passed through
the misty mantle, he was brought di
rectly over it, though yet at a consider
able altitnde. It was a train on the
Grand Trunk Hail road, which wa* pass
ing through West Bethel, Me., on its
wnv from Portland to Montreal. As he
sailed over the valley, Mr. aaw
the dork reflection of the balloon in the
water of the Androscoggin river. As
the balloon approached tne ground the
drag-rope did good service, as the bal
loon itself was brought beyoud the
cleared land and over the woods. He
decided upon crossing the woods and
landing in a valley he had previously
seen to the cost and northeast, leading
into the Androscoggin Valley, and ac
cordingly did so, the jouraeV taking
him a farther distance of aoont ten
miles, and directly over the top of Black
Mountain in Bethel.
At 5.48 o'clock he landed the balloon
in a little cleared space beyond the
woods, and found himself on the land
of Mr. Htillman Littlehale in Hiley
Plantation. Mr. Littlehalc's place ia
on the Bull Branch of Banday River,
aud there ia no other clearing beyond
this for a long distance. After leaving
West Bethel, the balloon took the south
easterly surface current again, and drift
ed northwesterly toward the township
of Buccess, a wooded section of country
just across the New Hampshire border,
which would prove anything bnt a suc
cess as a landing place for a balloon
traveler. A continuation of the north
easterly course which the balloon had
taken over the Franconia and White
Mountains would have speedily brought
Mr. King over the Maine wilderness,
which he traversed in his memorable
voyage from Plymouth last year, and a
northwest course from Bethel was not
much more desirable, since it would
have led into the wilds of the Upper
Coot. After the desoent the balloon
was towed to a better protected spot
near Mr. Luther Littlehalo's house,
where it was pocked up for removal to
Bethel, from wheuee >lr. King returned
to Boston via Portland.
At Sixty.
A former Attorney-General of Mas
sachnsetts, James Sullivan, was once
an able lawyer, and a hearty, dignified
gentleman of the old school. To a
friend who wan complaining at the age
of sixty that he felt one's days must be
few, and the oapaoity for usefulness
well-nigh exhausted, ktr. Sullivan felici
tously replied: "You mistake there.
At sixty a man in fair health may enter
upou a series of years eqnAl in useful
ness and happiness to those of any
period, provided proper preeantions are
taken and proper habits formed. Em
ployment without labor, exercise with
weariness, and temperance without ab
stinence are the rules of life for a man of
threescore years." The advice probably
contains as sound sense as eould easily
be oompacted in the same number of
The Anthracite Region.
The anthracite production of Utis
year in, up to the present date, con
siderably greater tban that of the oor
responding period of last rear The
increase is about sit hundred and sixty
thousand too*, or between four and Ore
per cent.
All but a very small part of the an
thracite produced in the United Htatea
is mined in a district contained within
the limits of eeveu counties of Penn
sylvania— Luaernr, Carbon, Heliuylkill,
Columbia, Montour, Northumberland,
and Dauphin. The aggregate produc
tion of these counties in 187 l! was about
nineteen million tons. According to
the census of 187U, their annual pro
duction was 15,618,437 tons, the total
amotiut in the Umled His ten l>eing
stated at 15,6114,275 tons. In 1873, the
amount in these auuntiea will probably
be about twenty million tone—an in
crease, since the taking of the oeitsus,
of nearly twenty-eight per cent. It is
not at all unlikely tliat by the time of
our great National Exhibition, in 1876,
the amount will be considerably over
twenty-five million tons.
There is a very common impression
that the anthracite region of Pennsyl
vania ia a barren district, with little
natural wealth except that of its mines.
In regard to some parts of it, thin idea
ia, to a certain extent, correct. There
is a great deal of poor land in the neigh
borhood of the collieries, and besides
this, much of the country is too moun
tainous for cultivation. But still, the
agricultural productions of the counties
we have mentioned are far from being
insignificant, and are capable of being
tucreased. The aggregate sauna! value
of their farm products was, according
to the estimates of the census, $15,897,-
728. Their total area is about 4,500
square inilca. There is no richer land
in any part of the Middle States than
some'that is to be found in these coun
ties, and a considerable quantity of it
ia cultivated in a manner that dues no
discredit to the general high character
which Pennsylvania farming lias so long
There are, as might naturally be
supposed, some very marked contrasts
between the characteristic* of the min
ing and the agricultural population of
these counties. But there are two
things to be said here about the un
favorable character in respect to orderly
behavior often attributed to the miners.
In the first place there is a great differ
ence in the mining population of dif
ferent district*. There are some parte
of the anthracite region which have
always been as orderly as the most
peaceful agricultural districts of Weat
era New York. In the second place,
it only takes a few individuals in any
community to make a great deal of dis
turbance. Btill, with all the allowance
that can be made on these grounds, it
must be acknowledged that the general
character of the mining populaLien for
rigid sobric ty or scrupulous respect for
the rights of property, and a strict
avoidance of conduct detrimental to
public and private peace and quietness,
is by no means so high as would be de
sirable. There has, however, been of
Isle a marked improvement in these
matters. But one great difficulty still
remains, and there seems to be no
practicable way of removing it. The
laborers in mi'ue* have, as a general
rale, little interest in the real estate of
the neighltorhoud they inhabit. The
local attachment* and associations
which are capable of constituting so
powerful and beneficial an influence,
must necessarily, therefore, be in a
great degree wanting.
Among the most remarkable features
of the region of which we are speaking
is its railroads. The manner in which
some of its most ragged and moun
tainous parts have been penetrated by
these higoways ia among the most grati
fying, as it ocrtaiuly is one of the most
beneficial, n-stilts of American en
gineering. We hope, by the way, that
at the Centennial Exhibition drawings,
maps, and descriptions illustrating
what has been accomplished in this re
spect, and the difficulties that bare been
overcome, will lie placed in a conspicu
ous and accessible position. The net
work of railroads with which the whole
district is covered ia closer, we think,
than that of any area of similar size in
the United Htales, except, |ierhape, the
vieinity of Boston. The style of work
in which the roads have been constructed
ia still more worthy of notice than their
extent. There is probably no set of
roads in the country where the tracks
are Utter laid, the bridges more sub
stantial, and the whole structure more
permanent or better finished.
Twenty years ago, the total amount
of anthracite annually mined in the re
gion of which we are speaking was only
about six million tons, or considerably
less than one-third of what it it now.
According to the census of 1840, it was
only abont eight hundred aud fifty
thousand tons. The figure* which
these facts suggest are startling, taken
in connection with what we have in the
former part of this article briefly shown
to be the present progress of affairs ;
but; without relying at all upon this as
a basis of calculation for the future, the
probable necessities of the oountry in
dicate a degree of increase in anthracite
production to which few industries of
any description are, even in this age of
progress and this land of enterprise,
likely to find a parallel.— Xcw York
Diamond Robbery In Paris.
A diamond robbery of considerable
•mount hue just been before the courts
iu Paris, with results that will strike
the American aenae of propriety rather
cnrionaly. It appear* that M. Spinelli,
the wealthy and well-known jeweler of
the Palaia Royal, waa in the habit laet
summer of going every evening to a
country house at St. Manr, leaving hia
ahop with its valuable content* in the
care of hia aon, Hector Spinelli, a lad
of sixteen, whose vigilance he thought
the more assured because he lecked
him in for the night. But Hector, not
unnaturally, found it dull te be in a
ahop all night by himself, and obtained
the means to get double keys, of whieh,
lor a long while, he made no more
criminal use than to let himself out and
amuse himself in cafes. But he ulti
mately waa induced by a cousin, named
Loisean, twenty years old, to rob the
till. They laid hands upon money and
jewels to the value of $25,000, and set
ont with the plunder for Italy. Their
youth provoked suapioion on tne part of
a Commissary of Police on the frontier,
and they were arrested. The Code in
use iu France (Article 800) precludes
the prosecution of a aon for robbing
hia father. Consequently only the
nephew Loisean was prosecuted ; and
hia counael submitted to the juiy that
it would be anomalous to convict the
nephew, who was only an accomplice,
whereas the son was the principal.
The jnry adopted this view and acquitted
The Glass.
Mr. Coville says a looking glass af
fords a woman a marvelous amount of
comfort and gratification. He says his
wife thinks just as much of consulting
her glass when she ties on her apron
as when she tries on her bonnet. He
says that when there is a knock at the
door, he goes there at once, but his
wife, on the contrary, ejaculates—
"Mercy, Joseph, who's that?" and
dashes for the looking glass the first
Terra*: *8*2.00 a Year, in A^dt
The Greatest Crop of the World.
A question widely discussed involves
the relative value of the wheat, cotton,
tea and hay crop# of the world. Which
of tbeee products employs the greatest
amount of tkh world's capital ? It is
said that hay leads the rest, and the
items that enter into the account ae
stated are somewhat startling, and Will
makes (Danger's hair stand on end.
Cotton and tea are local crops, while
hay ia produced everywhere the world
over, and thus the hay crop greatly out
weighs either of the other two. The
aggregate reported value of all farm
products for 1870 was $2,447,538,658;
but as this includes additions to stocks,
"betterments," Ac., it is probablj too
bigh. Now th hay crop for Dial year
ths! ia the grass dried and cured for
use or eold—ia leported at over 27,000,-
OOOtona. This at half the selling price in
the large cities, would amount to $405,-
OOOjDtM), and ia far greater than the ag
gregate home-value of the cotton crop
ar any other crop. But the cured '
is but a portion of the grass crop. The
other portion is used on the ground,
and it requires considerable calculation
to get at the value so used, even in the
roughest way.
In the first place live stock, including
horned cattle, horses, sheep, swine, Ac.,
to the value of $1,525,008,000, were fed
from it tliat year. Averaging the lives of
these at five years we have one-fifth of
that sum as representing the grass fed
to them in 1870, namely: $305,000,000;
next we find the valne of the animals
slaughtered for food in that year to be
$309,000,000, and as this is an animal
product, the whole of it will for the pres
ent be credited to the grass crop; aext
we find that the butter crop of 1870 was
514,000,000 pounds, which at the low
average of 25 cents, amounts to $128,-
000,000, and this goes to the credit of
grass; next we have 235,000,000 gallons
of milk, which, sversged at the low es
timate of 10 cents per gallon, adds $25,-
000,000 more to the credit of the grass
cmp; then we have 100,000,000 pounds
of wool at 25 cents a pound, adding
$25,000,000 more; and, finally, 53,000,-
000 pounds of cheese at 10 cents, add
ing over $5,000,000 to the total of these
credits to the grass crop of 1870, which
aggregates $8e7,000,000.
Now let us add the value of the "hay"
crop as given above—vix.: $405,000,000
—and we have a grand total for " hay "
and the products of grass consumed on
the ground amounting to $1,292,000,000!
This is, of course, subject to the de
duction, as the meet, butter, milk,
cheese, and wool-producing animals
consume other food besides grass and
To make ample allowance for
this, we deduct the entire value of the
corn and ostcropsof 1870, estimated at
$270,000,000 and this leaves s remain
der of $1,082,000,000 to be credited to
the hay and grass-crop of that year,
when the reported aggregate of all farm
prodnets was $2,447,538,658.. If our es
timates make even the roughest ap
proach to accuraev, the value of that
crop was two-fifths of the aggregate
value ef the farm products, and bene#
we may infer that two-fifths of the oapi
tal then invested in agricultural pur
suits was devoted to the grass-crop, sad
this in the United States equals (in
round numbers) $4,575,000,000. From
these figures the dedu> tion is palpable
that King Cotton is uncrowned aud de
throned, and we may tie forced to admit
that all " flesh" and all else is her, if
not "grass."— Memphis Appeal.
The English-African War.
It is evident that the British expedi
tion to the Oold Coast has s very seri
ous task before it Thus far it has met
with one disaster after another. The
Asbanteas are no contemptible antag
onists, even for s well equipped Euro
pean force. They have long ranked
among the most powerful of all the
African nations. They are oapable, it
ia said, of bringing into the field an
army of 100,000 men. Their troops
have been drilled by Dutch adventurers
and Yankee merchantmen, the latter
having supplied them with arms and
ammunition. Recent occurrences also
hare made it plain that in a content
with the Britieh they will hare the en
tire or paaaire aaaiatenee of all the
tribes along that part of the ooaat—at
least until they hare been beaten in
some signal engagement. The affair on
the I'rah, in which every man sere one
in Commodore CommereU's boat ex
pedition was more or lees seriously
hart, and the distinguished commander
himself was iangeronsly wounded, has
borne its natural fruit. The affray has
become general, and a second disaster,
similar in character to tha first, has ag
gr*rated the dangers of the situation.
"We are probably in for a serious war,"
says the Fait Mall Gazette, "and a war
which we shall hare to carry on single
handed, without any material assistance
from native allies. This maans that we
must substitute a much more formid
able number for the handful of British
troops with which the war was to baTe
been carried on. We must hsre plenty
of men, and, what is more, hsre plenty
of Englishmen—on the Gold ffioast if
we are to win this bout"
The military force now on the way to
Africa, under the command of Sir Gar
net Wolaeler, will doubtless be strong
enough for the serrioe likely to be re
quired of it; but it will not hsre an
easy march to the Ash an tee capital.
The natires are adepts at bush fight
ing ; the country girea them erery ad
vantage ; and they can seriously embar
rass the progress of an invading army,
however formidable. Their object is
evidently to detain the English near the
coast until the rainy season sets in. For
this purpose thcv hare been careful to
carry hostilities lar and wide into the
protected coast territories of the Fan
tees, which the British General must
leave in his rear when he move* towards
Coomassie; and M the Fantees will
join tha aids of which they are most in
fear, it becomes a grave question how
this difficulty of the campaign is to be
mot. Daisys will be the Aahantee*'
best defense. In s few months the
swamps end jungles will reek with pes
tilence, and fever, ague, and dysentery
will do more execution in the European
ranks than gunpowder.
Are We Regenerating t
A few years ago, at the Eglinton
tournament in England, it appeared
that the famous knights of three and
four centuries ago must have been
smaller even than the Englishmen of
to-day, for it was impossible to put on
their armor. And now oome vital sta
tistics to prove that we are more hardy
and longer-lived than onr fathers. The
statistics kept at Geneva since 1560
show that the average term of life has
been steadily lengthening. At that
time the average was only 22 years ; it
is now 40. in the 14th century the
average mortality in Paris was ane in
16; tne rate has been reduced in onr
day to one in 82. In England, less
than two centuries ago, the mortality
was one in S3; now one in 42. The laws
of life are better understood; the oom
foras of life more widely distributed,
and habits of living improved. Even
oonsvmption, the fatal malady of aur
New England climate, is yielding slow
ly to a wiser method of treatment, and
the annual percentage of deaths is
smaller than 50 years ago. If, by sound
system of diet or exeroise the constitu
tion of New England girls could take
on a higher vitality and vigor, the out
look for the future would be hopeful.
The KIMDUM of the
How TUoy it*r*lvr<4 Tlr IHHM—Com
porfoma mm* U*mtUtmtw,
That group of WTfgM, listening
through a double interpretation to the
comforting words of * clergymen, eeys
the New York Herald, whom the* oan
oulr apeak of an ft "spirit man, i a
novel scene for the world to ponder
over. They heard the sentences trans
lated into Modoc jargon and then ren
dered into pare Modoc, but their
•perch<-s afterward betrayed how little
the thoughts of the preacher had sunk
into their savage souls. They spoke in
turn, and the strange offer of Captain
Jack, that Boar-fated Charley fthouhi
suffer in uis stead, was made In neither
his nor Bcbonehis'a speeches did the
calm, impassive, unshaken stoicism ap- >
pear which we have insensibly connect
ed with the Indian when facing bi
doom. From Captain Jack lacking
wistfully round with his aearviiiug,
giittermg eyes, and saying, "It is
U-rnbla to think I hats to die, because
whenever I loek at my heart I sea a de
sire to live," we recall the famous figure
of the Virginia Indian, "Logan,** when,
aa a prisoner after a bloody war in
which he was ever a towering spirit, be
said, " Logan would not turn upon his
heel to save his life." From Hcbonchin,
K peaking aa smoothly and ingeniously
as Hhsksjwsre's Mark Antony, saying:
" Boston Charley haa told the truth
when he oalled me a woman. I was'
like a woman, and opposed to war," wa I
•an go back to Osceola, the famous
Chief of the Hemtoelas, end tiring bit
imprisonment with the dignity of a
Brutus, expressing no regret save that
he had allowed himself to be betrayed
into the hands of the pale faae enemies
who ware seeking, with bloody hand,
the destruction of his rune.
The long intermixture with the whites
had grafted the idea upon the mind of j
Captain Jack and Schonchin that while {
there's life there's hope—that the life
which had been straggled for with
tooth and nail was worth itruggUng for
with the tongue. Different is thia, in
deed, from Black Hawk, when made a
prisoner, saying pithily and wi<b the
grim spirit of an ancient Greek, " Have
done my best; pale faeaa too many,
that's aft. Although the old men and
chiefs betrayed this yearning for life,
in the two younger men, Boston Char
ley and Black Jim, the defiant spirit of
the aavage unused to the food of
Ci tier emotions was seen, and portion
ly in the former. " Schonchin,"
said Boston Charley, reproachfully, " I
am not afraid to die. I fought in the
front rank. lam wlmlly man, not half
woman." So the "talk' went on with
some of the old Indian eloqueaoa,
wherein their paganism, tempered with
Christian expression, is heard " The
Great Spirit who looks from above will
•ee Schonchin in chains, but He knows
that his heart is good, and says, ' You
die ; you become one of My people.' "
Soon another aoene takes place with
more of the human element in it, when
the squaws, papooses and relatives of
the doomed were let in to vent their
grief in a passionate storm of farewells.
Even with fettered savages and their
barbarian kindred this grief is some
thing eacrad, from which we moat turn
Night cornea- down over the camp
with the death songs of the Modoc
women wailing through the air. Then,
save the m.n try'a tread, all is aiilL
Morning breaks, and the reveille rings
out. All are afoot at dawn. The
solemn pomp of death is prepared. The
morning advances, and the troops inarch
out and take position. Five hundred
Klamath Indiana squat upon the ground
before the broad gallows, to see and be
impressed by the death struggles of four
brethren of their banned race. A load
wail from the stockade where the Modots
squaws and braves are eaged is beard,
and then eomes the escorted wagon
with the doomed. Hope has gone oat
of their breasts, and the stoicism of
the savage asserts itself in thia supreme
moment The fated four are seated
pinioned on the gallows frame, with the,
nun shining on their backs, never to
shine upon their faces in life again.
The long, dreary form of reading the
sentence and praying is proceeded with,
and the Modoc wau, rising again from
the wives and childn n, is its agonizing
accompaniment We wonder if it en
tered the minds of the Klamaibs look
ing eoldly cm, that so their race was
passing away with the sun upon their
backs, their shadowed destiny on the
ground before their faces, white officers
reading their doom, white chaplains
pointing to a happy hereafter and the
wails and aobs of women and children
interwoven and mingled with it all. The
thnd of an axe ia heard, and the fonr
wretches struggle through strangula
tion into eternity. Four corpses sway
ing in the wind now tell that, in slow
fashion, the murders of Canby and
Thomas have been avenged.
A carious Superstition.
Some of the Canadian people have a
superstition that if, while upon the
road, a rabbit crowee the path before
them it ia a sign of ted took. A crowd
of girls and boys were on thairway to a
country school, when a hare, frightened
from bis burrow, ran acroaa the road in
front of the party. The girls instantiv,
and with one accord, turned quickly
around three times on their heels,
pulled qjf their snn-bonncta, spat in
them, turned them inside out, and,
placing them again on their heads,wore
them thus to school, congratulating
themselves on the way that by these
very essential manoeuvres they had
averted some species of bad luck tbat
waa stent to befall them. The boys
likewise turned on their heels and spat
in their hats. ffine of the boys who had
never telore witnessed such a silly pro
ceeding, waa very much amused and
laughed heartily at his companions.
The girls looked upon him with an ex
presaion of holy horror, and with
clsaped and wringing hands implored
him to follow their example. This he
refused to do, and they net upon him
with violence, pulled his hat from his
head, and made him spit to it
His Hill.
An old farmer, dictating his will to a'
lawyer, said: "I give and beqneath to
my wife the sum of £IOO e year. Is
that writ down, master ?" " Yea," said
the lawyer ; " but she is not so old but
that she may marry again. Won't you
make any cllange in that case ? Most
people do." "Ah, do they? Well,
write again, and say if my wife marry
again, I give and bequeath to her the
sum of £2OO s year. That'll do, won't
it f" " Why, that's jost doable the sum
that she would have had if she had re
mained unmarried," said the lawyer;
" it is generally the other way." "Aye,'
said the farmer, " but him that taxes
her will deserve it!"
WHAT Sun SAID. —A blind man, a
woman, a hand organ, and a little girl,
are a family group traveling aronnd the
city of Detroit soliciting alms. The
man holds out his hand, the woman
turns the organ, and the little girl ap
peals as follows : "Won't yon please
give a few cents to a poor blind man
who had his eyes blown up while ha was
flriug a cannon on the Fourth of July,
I and hain't got any home and has got to go
round begging and ia to poor health and
has got the consumption and broke his
arm the day before last Christmas, and
God loves a cheerful giver."
. J L 11l ,U.I
No atactic** will be bald in Miasia
aippt until November. IOT 4
A steam tbmabtag machine oat in
lowa lately burned up 900 bushels of
wheat. ? ~j
Dnlutb eomes np itlltff and say*:
"Jay Cooke was only eamotoly oon
n PO ted with our metropolis."
There waa a railroad collision of
trains near Carlisle, Eng., by whieh
several persona ware ViltaT and Injured.
The Btate Bank of *wrJSE2Tft
N. J., suspended beeeaaa |250, had
been " misappropriated by its cashier.
A skillful hunter at Fairpmrt, lowa,
want out shooting, and came Wk
wounded in the eye, wrist, and shoulder.
Four cotton factories in Fayeiterille,
* C., pay dividends of 12 P
and upwards, eeeording to a loca paper.
ia it because cold* sre to be aneeaed
at that so many people era WMJj"
take them whenever they eateb them ?
A Padueeah (Ky.) court has decided
that marriage between a white ana
black ia just aa valid a* batffaen two
mA '' ' i
Country Magistrate—Prisoner, you're
'"itofltt *•*, California, Farmers'
Club ie considering the advisability of
importing girls from the East few ser
vant*. The oost of bringing the girls
out to estimated at ecveuly ddtlars por
Advieea from Africa announce the
capture of a white man br the natives
while proceeding west ward on thcGongo
river. From the description of the man
Mr. Charles Livingstone believes it in'
his son.
Laathnr made (com the akin of the
white whale, it to said, ia now a regular
article of manufacture at soma of the
villages in Canada. It to both ftn ad
durable, and shoe thongs made ©f it are
said never to break.
men! of a vow which/when" years of
a he had made at Buddha, namely:
if at the sge of 80 be had not be
come femowa he would die.
"Oh I" exclaimed a poor suftorer to
a dentist, "that to the second wrong
tooth you have polled oat I Vary
sorry, air," said the blundering opera- '
tor, " but aa thera vsaa only three wham
I began, m sniw to be right thia tune.
A man named Warnar had hie tog
broken at Lexington, Mo., and being in
met pain he begged of some one to
Shto Mr/Curtia, one of hto .
neighbors, obligingly complied with
the request, and to soused at finding
himself arrested.
The Burlington and Southwestern R.
R. Company of lowa haa prohibited the
use of intoxicating liqaors by its em
ployee*. The onto* is occasioned by
the alarmingly increasing number of
railroad sodden U aaaaed by the drun
kenness ef officials.
Jones was thrown into a state of won
der by the sign, " todies' feH slippers,
whieh he dueoveeed when pass nig a
shoe store. He out understand it.
He says children feH slippers in
often enough, but todies geoermlly wore
them, except when they were removed
for eaaae.
" Does your era peru you f" naked n
lady of a gentleman who, in a mixed
assembly, had thrown hto arm across
the back of her chair and toaehed ha
neck. "No, Mies. it don't; but why
do you sek r I noticed that it was
out of its place, air, that's aIL The
am was removed.
A gentleman waa warmly eulogizing
the constoner of an absent husband in
the pass ernes of hto taring wife. "Yea,
yea, " assented she. "He writes totters
lull of the agony of affection, but be
never remits me any money." **l mm
conceive that," mid the other, * for I
know his love to be unremitting."
It ia said of a Western editor that he
is a fearful penman, the style of hto
hand being a mom between a twisted
wire clothes-line and a Virginia worm
fence. One editors! does for aevaral
days, the compositor deciphering it
from the bead down the first day, then
toil up the next, and cross waya on Bon
In a railroad crash, if you can be
quick enough, put one hand on tba
back of the seat before you, and the
other hand oo that of your own seat,
and awing etoar of the floor, and as
high as you can. Moat of the damage
to limb, which ia not fatal, cwmes from
the jamming of seats end what to under
Wilkes Bam. P*., now ownmoaly
written with hut one capital tetter, ia
aaid to have beau ao named in honor of
the celebrated John Wilkes rod Colonel
Barre, both toemben of the British
Parliament, and both of whom took a
decided part in favor of Amanca
atnunat the measures of the British
- It to aaid that shortly after Hon.
John Hickman's recent illness, Hon.
Washington Townaeod called on him,
and wishing to encourage Mm, remark
, ad: " Well. Hickman, I caul aee that
roar appearance need trouble you.'
"No, Townsend," quickly replied the
invalid "it doeao't; it to my
, disappearance that troubles me."
The Philadelphia Press states that a
member of the Society of Friends thus
complimented one of hto east who had
joined a regular church upon the new
organ to the latter. " Why, I thought
thee objected to such things aa music
|to worship f" " And ro I do," was the
reply; "but if thee moat worship God
by machinery I want thee to have the
A city paper relates the following
conversation Between two bell boys at
the Fifth Avenne Hotel, New York:—
Pat asks Mike, " What's thia suspen
sion of the banks f" " Hist ye t" Mike
replies, " 111 tell ye. Suppose ye have
five cents." " Yia." "Leave it wid.
me." "Yia." "Next day ye want it.
and ye ax me for it" "YIA." "I tell
ye, ' No, air, I've used it meeelf.
The Greenfield Gazette says the Hoo
aac Tunnel haa a ghost, ana if one of
the miners should oversleep or get be
lated, nothing will induce him to enter
the tunnel (which ia always dark) alone
to overtake his companions who have
gone ahead. He will forfeit his day's
wages and wait for the next day, when
he will be sure to join his gang. The
ghost does not reveal himself to a
crowd, which goes to show that he does
not differ from other ghosts.
A Cayuga oounty man sends the fol
lowing advertisement to the Syracuse
Journal. Aa he did not enclose the
cash, it withheld his name, but any
young lady who desires tote "you
nited to nim can have the name and
address by calltogat the counting-room
of this paper: " Mr. Editer please
publish that Wanted a young lady from
the age of 18 to 22 who would bke to
reunite her self*. to the locs of matri
mona I the writer of this am 22 years
•f age 5 feet to height to weight 135 oc
cupation farmer."
The Pied Piper of Hamelto haa teen
received in Baltimore to the person of
a genius who offers to capture and ban
ish from any premises all rata. His
weapons of extermination are three
black-and-tans, six ferrets, a net, and a
small boy. He visits a house, sets his
net in a chosen looality, eeta out on a
foraging expedition around and through
the house, and when be gets back to the
point of departure, he haa the satisfac
tion of seeing the small boy gazing with
rapture on the ensnared victims of the
search. His price is from five to ten
dollars, and he warrants the place free
for one year.
The oldest church building now
standing to the United States is at
Hingham, twelve miles from Boston.
Three " godly families" from Plymouth
made a settlement here to 1633, and in
1881 the town had grown strong enough
to build this great church, which now
stands precisely as it waa built, except
that two years ago, unfortunately, the
old square pews were taken out and
slips substituted. The old pulpit, gal
leries, immense timbers and beams, six
by eight window panes, the tell rope-in
the middle of the broad aisle, remain.
An organ has taken the place of the
bass-viol and violin and tuning fork.