Centre Democrat. (Bellefonte, Pa.) 1848-1989, August 02, 1883, Image 2
A Man's Empty Heart. It acorns so strango That any man should novor sot his heart On anything—but live a|<art v rom iloar deairo And from laughing hope! Without whoso kindly beacon ruv Wo'ro like poor mariners astray Without a coni|iaiM. Our lives would bo so tamo, If wo should bo content to grasp Only the things our hand could clasp Without much striving. tVo cannot always Hope to attaiu our aim—bat still. By tearing to attempt, wo will (Sain simply nothing Oh! wo would mini So much unloss w <lard tho I oar Of losing thing, which arc not hero, Dot lartlter on. Kvon if wo lose Tho ho|io on which our heart was set Thorn no in os for every vain regret Some compensation. Keinoutliranco ol Anticipation soothes tho pain Of bittor loss, and holpa us gain Courage and hope. To have known defeat Makes us more kind to grids that lay Within tho boura oi every day n other pooplu's lives. .nd when we win' Attainment gives us strength to beat Kaoh added pain and added euro That comes to us. Tlion daro tho strife! For o'er defeat's dark clouds there couia Tho lights ol many a victory won, Which hloosed our life. Btuie Donaldton. An Expensive Lesson. Mrs. Piercy was not in a good hu mor Lbat day, as site sat at the break fast-table pouring coffoo for her hus band, and dispensing bread and butter ; to tho three plump little Plercys. zlhe ! was a handsome, overdressed woman, with a good deal of false hair, frizzed ' and puffed and braided on the top of her head, anil a complexion that Uiro j remote witness to the constant use of j cosmetics. And Mr. l'ierey, at his end I of the table, was evidently ill at ease, , as he broke his eggs and nibbled dili- | gently at his roll. "But what was I to do, my dear?" | •aid he, after a brief silence which was by no means peaceful. "Do?" shrilly retorted Mrs. Piercy. j "Why, what do other people do? Are wo to keep a home for the indigent poor? Or a refuge for the widowed and fatherless!" "My dear, my dear," pleaded Mr. Piercy, who was a small man. with thin hair and spectacles, "you may be a widow yourself, somo day." "And if I am, I shall not go begging among my relative*, that you may de pend on," said Mrs. Piercy. "And, af- j ter all, she isn't any relative of yours —only your brother's wife! I'd like j to know what earthly claim she has upon you! I declare, the more I think of it the more I am amazed at the woman's presumption. B--r very name is an aggravation, too. 'Plume I'ier. ' cy,' indeed. I'll wager my new I.ve pin that she was a second-rate artresw whon she married your brother. No, Mr. Piercy, if you think that I—" But here the torrent of the lady's eloquence was cut short by the unex pected appearance on the sceno of the very subject of her objurgation—a tall, , pretty woman of about four and twenty, whose wavy, golden tresses j ami delicately fair complexion con trasted vividly with the deep mourn- i ing weeds she wore. "A veil down to her feet," mentally ejaculated Mrs. Abel Piercy. "And a six-inch bias band of the very best Cotirtiand crape on her gown. I won der who's expected to pay for all this?" Abel Piercy, the kindest-hearted of little men, welcomed his brother's widow with genuine hospitality; but Matilda, his wife, looked askance at her, with no friendly smile upon her countenance. "Of course you will consider this your home," said Mr. l'ierey, as he made haste to draw a chair close to the lira "Until you are able to suit yourself somowhere else," crisply added his wife. The widow said little; she only looked, with large, wistfnl eyes, from one to the other, as she sat there, the morning sunshino turning her fair lacks to braided masses of gold, the pearly delicacy of her skin arousing the liveliest envy In Mr A Abel's heart "Though, of course, It's only some French balm, or Circassian cream or other, that I haven't heard of," said she to herself. But, after Mr. Ilercy bad buttoned on his overcoat and gloves, he camo hack to the breakfast-room, while his wlfo was putting up the children's school-lunches In the pantry. "I am not much of a talker. Plume," said he. In an odd, heeltating way; "but you are welcome, my dear—-very wel come! And I hope you will try to feel at homo. Don't mlnil Matilda—just at llrst. She's a little peculiar. Matilda is, but i do assure you she—" "Mr. l'ierey!" uttered a sharp, warn ing voice, at this instant, from the threshold, "is it possible that you haven't started yet ? Ami you know how particular Budge and liodlcy ari as to your getting to the store at nine precisely." Mr. l'ierey turned pink all over. "Yos, my dear —yes," said he, "I'm quite stire to be in time!" And off he started on a gentle trot. When he was gone, Plume took off her bonnet and veil, removed her man tle and gloves, and went into the kitchen. "Cannot I do something to help you, Sister Matilda?" said she, pleadingly. Mrs. Abel l'ierey looked, with cold blue eyes and lips primly compressed, at the fair face, which was younger and fresher than ever without the jet black circlet of the bonnet, and the slight, graceful ligure before her. "No, I thank you," said she. "I am not used to have tine ladies in my kitchen." "Hut if you will lend me an apron " j "No. 1 thank you, Mrs. Oswald Pier, oy?" repeated the housewife. "You will tind the newspaper in the hall- I Perhaps the advertising columns may Interest you." "We are sisters." said the young widow, with a quivering lip. "Will you not call me I'lumo?" "()h, no, we're no relations at all, ' in reality," said Mrs. Abel l'ierey, j weighing out ounces of sugar and > pounds of (lour with an unerring hand. "And really, your name is such 1 a very peculiar one. .fane, or Martha, j or Kliza, would have been more to my • taste. Perhaps, however," with a \ keen, sidelong glance, "you have been on the stage?" "No," said Plume, "I was a teacher j when Oswald married inc. Hut what did you mean about the advertising columns of the paper?" "Situations, you know," said Mrs. l'ierey, reaching over to the raisin-lmx. "Hriilget, you have been at these i raisins, as true as I live! There's half ! of 'em gone sine.- 1 was here last." "No, mum, I haven't!" sharply re sponded Bridget, who was used to these kitchen skirmishes. "Sure I never lived in a house !>efore where they counted the raisins and the lumps o' coal, and if I don't suit, mum, it's a month's warning from b>-day, if ye's plaze." "Situations!" repeated Plume, half afraid of Bridget's warlike demeanor, i half puzzbil at her sister-in-law's words. "Yes," said Mrs. Abel, tartly, paying no attention to Bridget and her skillet "in a glove-factory, you know, or a j fancy store, or even as nursery gover ness or attendant to some elderly in valid. For of course, you know," with another of those oblique looks that made Plume feel so uncomfortable, "you expect to work for your living We are not rich enough to support all our relations. Abel's salary was re duced last year, and no one knows how strictly I have to Tonomize In order to make both ends meet. And a strong young woman like you ought not \ to sit down on a sickly man with a family, like my husband, because—" "Stop oh. stop'" said Plume, lifting up her hand, as if to ward off some in- j visible terror. "lie said I was wel come. Be told me—" "That's just like Abel"' said Mrs Pierry, scornfully. "He'd take in all creation if he could. Bo never stops , to think whether he can afford it or not." "I am sorry that I intrude." said Plume, with dignity. "It shall not lie for long. I will look at the newspaper at once." es, that's a deal the licit plan," ' assented Mrs. Pierry, ungraciously. "Of course you won't mention our little chat to Abel. Be might lie vexed; and, after all, I'm only speak ing fur your good." Hume looked at her with an expres sion of fare which somehow made Mrs. Abel Pierry feel as if she were shrink ing up like a withered walnut in its shell. "Yes. 1 know." said she, "But you need not lie afraid; I am no tale-bear er, to make mischief in any one's fam ily." Mrs. l'ierey felt very uncomfortable after this little conversation was ended. "How she did look at ine!" thought she. "But I only spoke the truth, after aIL We can't be burdened with her support, let Abel talk as he pleases. And no matter what she says. I believe she has been an actrese! No one but an actress could ever put on such royal ways as that!" Half an hour afterward, when the bell rang, and some one inquired for Mrs. Oswald Piercy, Mrs. Abel nodded her head to the cake she was taking out of the oven. "Company already," said she; "sad gentleman company, as I live I Well, if this is the way she intends to go on, the sooner she suits herself with a situation the better!" Mrs. I'ierey had been secretly anx lons for an opportunity of quarreling with her sister-in-law. Here it was at last; and when the old gentleman with the glossy broadcloth suit was gone, she bounced into the parlor with a red spot on either cheek-bone like signals of war. "So you have been receiving com pany, Mrs. Oswald?" said she. "Ye," I'lunie innocently answered. "Gentleman company, too!" cried Mrs. I'ierey. "It was Mr. Van Orden, my hus band's lawyer," explained I'lumc. "Oh, 1 dare say!" said Mrs. I'ierey, "All that sounds very well; but I have the character of luy house to look to, and "He is coining hack with a carriage," hurriedly spoke Flume. "1 am to go to his wife's house at once. Mrs. Van Orden is willing to give mo the shelter which my own relatives grudge me!" "I wish tier joy of her bargain, I ain sure," said Mrs. Abel I'ierey, with a toss of the mountains of false hair that crowned her head. And so the two women parted, in no spirit of amity, "I dare say she'll go straight to the store," thought Mrs. Abel, "and invent a pitiful story for my husband's bene fit. And Abel will make a great fuss Abel was always soft about his rela. tives but 1 shan't mind it. I always have been mistress In my own house, and 1 always intend to be, Oswald's widow or no Oswald's widow." Nevertheless, she could not help feding a little apprehensive when h'-r husband came in to tea For when Abel really was angry, his anger sig nified something. Hut to her surprise lie enterisl all smiles, and rubbing his palms, gleefully. "So Flume has gone?" said lie. "Yes," said Mrs. I'ierey, pretending to Is* busy with a knot in the second child's shoe. "She has gone. Hut how did you know it?" "Vail Orden stopped at the store tc tell me," answered Mr. I'ierey. "Strange, wasn't it? And quite ro mantic, too." "What on earth is the man talking about ?" said Mrs. I'ierey, aroused at last into something like active interest, "Why. didn't l'lume tell you? It seems that those last investments that poor >swald fan> ied he had licggarcd himself with, have turned up trump cards after ;U1 And Von Orden tells me that Oswald's widow is worth one hundred and fifty thousand dollars." Mrs Al>el I'n-rcy turned first green, then crimson. Alas for the fa'al blun der she had committed! Alas for the ruin's! chances of her three little girls to inherit their aunt's money! >he made some trivial excuse al>out a forgotten pocket-handkerchief, anil went up stairs to weep the bitterest tears she had ever shed. It was a lesson to her, but it was an expensive one. For Plume I'iercv, al though she always remained on the most excellent terms with her kind little brother-in-law. never crossed Mrs. Abel's threshold again. She had l>een too deeply stung too bitterly in sulted there. "And It's all tny own fault," sadly reflected Mrs. Abel. "Oh, dear, oh, dear! why can't we see a little way Into the future?" Oyster Schools. It Is common to quote the oyster as the lowest example of stupidity, or absence of anything mental; and as it is a headless creature, the accusation might not seem wholly unfounded Yet the oyster is not such a fool but that it can learn by experience; for Dicquemase asserts that, if it lie taken from a depth never uncovered by the sea it oj>ons its shell, bees the water within and perishes. Hut oysters taken from the same depth, if kept in reser voirs where they are occasionally left uncovered for a short time, learn to keep their shells closed, and then livp for a much longer time when taken out of the water. This fact is also stated by Hingley. and is now turned to practical account in the so-called "oyster schools" of Franco. The dis tance from the roast to I'aris being too great for the newly-dredged oysters to travel without opening their shells, they are first taught In the schools tc Ix-ar a longer and longer exposure to the air without gaping, and when their education In this respect is completed, they are sent on their journey to the metrojiolls, where they arrive with closed shells and In a healthy con dition. Statistics show that not quite one thinl of the population in the United States is foreign born, or foreign in the second degree. Of the 15,000,000 Included In the above computation, about 4,500,000 have Irish fathers. DETERMINED DUELIhT*. The lloitlle Mertluii llrl wren <rehm and H'alktr In a recent number of the .St. Louis Qlobe-Dvrwrat, a Forty-Naur gives some interesting recollections of old time duels on the western coast. Him self an adherent of the code of honor that demanded reparation for real or fancied insult, the details of the duel as related by one of the participants, is unusually interesting. He says: The first duel that 1 was concerned in was between a young man from Philadelphia, named Graham, and General Walker, afterwards of Nicara gua fame. It grew out of a violent attack on the county court, of which Judge Morrison was the head, in the Kan Francisco //-r/</, by Walker, who was one of the editors. Young Graham was a protege of Judge Morrison, and without consulting him he wrote a very denunciatory letter to Walker, which resulted in a challenge. Graham had the choice of weapons, and he chose revolvers, at eight paces; at the word to advance and fire until either or both of the parties were killed. At that time I was stationed at Sac ran ien to, ami one evening I re ceived a letter from Graham begging me for < Jod's -ake to come down on the first boat, that be was in trouble and wanted me at once, 1 got ready as quickly as possible and caught the evening boat, wondering what sort of a scrape Graham had got himself into, never dreaming of a duel. I arrived at san Francisco lute at night and , w.-nt at once to Graham's room, where I found him in consultation with his friends. I was there informed of what had occurred, and the phasanj news was imparted to me that I had Ieen chosen his lighting second Here was a row between two men, with cither of whom I had hut a slight ;> * quaintance, and in whom I had no jar- ; ticular Interest. The terms were un usually sanguinary and the affair would probably terminate in the death of one or lioth. Under the code if one <>f the principals showed the white feather his second was obliged to Lik j his place and light it out. It was aj situation that 1 did not r- li-h in tin ' bast, I knew that Walker was a reg ular lire eater and would i.ght to the death, but Graham I was not exactly sure of. His terms were bh ■ ly enough, but then be had never l>-cn trisl, and |f the thing w.-nt on, he might weaken and I have to take it up. I labored with him to obtain some modification of his terms. 1 told hint that they w. re so sanguinary that Walker would l>e justified in declining them. We sat up all right, and tr;e.i our tist t > br.ng atut a peaceable adjustment, but it was of no lis. The tight was to come niT at 1< o'clock in the morning, and, finding no .-scape, 1 was oblig.sl t-> make the l.t of it. We had our breakfast and took a carriage for the dueling grounds, un the way Graham told me that he was a dead shot, and that he intended to kill Walker on the first fire. I halted the carriage, and told him I vvould not go a step further if that was his purpose. If he were the exje rt marksman that he claimed to be it would la- a little less than mur der. and I proposed to wash my hands of the affair unless he would promise to w ing his man instead of killing him. At last he agressl to it, and we wen' ahead. <>n the ground we found Walker and his second, who was Gap* tain Folsom, of the army. I tried to effect an adjustment of the difficulty, but without success, I had taken the precaution to dress my man in black from head to foot, without a particle of white anywhere visible. Walker was in a blue swallow tailed cost, with buff vest and black pants. His coat was buttoned, and la-low bis breast the light line of his vest couhl be seen. The impending light was know n to the whole of San Francisco, and. as it wa, Sunday, not less than .VXNI people were on the grounds. Among the most in. terested sp*rtators was Alexander Wells, then Chief Justice of California. The ground was measured, pegs driven, and 1 won the word. The men were placisl in position and the signal given: "Gentlemen, are you ready? Fire' one, two, three, halt!" At th p word both wheeled and fired. Walker stood still, hut Graham advanced one pace and lioth fired again. After this I called a halt. and. going to Folsom. tried to bring aNmt a compromise, hut no use. Walker had his blood up and proposed to kill or l>e killed then anil there. I went to Graham and told hiui that all parleying was at an end: that Walker proposed to kill hitn If he couhl. and that I alwolved hiin from the promise made in the carriage, as he must fight for his life. I rememlier distinctly bow excited the Chief Justice became as he rushed up and down the line, swinging his arms and crying to the crowd. "Keep out of the Une of fire, gentlemen; keep out of the line of fire." At last the word was given, both pistols cracked, and Walker a spun around on his heel and full into Folsom's arms. They tore open his clothing and found that the ball had entered the bxly just where the white line of vest showed below the coat. It was supposed, of course, that it had passed through the bowels, as It came out on the opposite side, but it was af terward ascertained, upon a careful examination, that by a most fortunate accident it had glanced and run around the lining of the abdomen, just under the skin, so that the wound was In reality but slight, lioth were satisfied and became warm friends. Graham accompanied Walker on his Nicaragua expedition and was killed there. Ited FHh Lake. .Nestled amid the lofty peaks of the Itocky mountains, away up in the Sawtooth range, in Idaho, at an eleva tion of tJOUQ feet alstve the s a level, writes a correspondent, lies the U-auti ful Lake Talioma. Beautiful lakes are no rare thing in these mountains, but, amid them all, it would Is* hard to find one presenting a more perfect picture of quiet beauty than this. Idaho means "Gni of the Mountains," and. surely, Lake Tahorna deserves to I/O called the Gem of Idaho, It is not large, being only about three mile* long and one mile wide. Where the water of this lake is eighteen or twenty feet deep you can see the pebble- on the bottom, and the fish darting about, as plainly a- though they were in a glass glolK.*. Then the bottom of the lake breaks off suddenly and descends almost perpendicularly several hundred feet, fr-aii which point (he water grow- rapidly deejM-r t-ward the middle of the lake. It is said that it has been sounded to the depth of 27' XI feet, but the story is not well authenti' ated It ha-, however, been no a- ri-d, with a wire line. ltM' feet without finding l-'tt en. and it ha.- been estimated by (fljrvcyor* that its grc.t'*t d'-pth may > .rr(*i>ond with the height ••f the highest peak in its vicinity, winch is l.V* feet, though no accurate measurement has vet l**n attempted. The water, besides 1~ mg very old, p X-cv-ea S -me JM-< iliaritv whi h makes it very difficult to keep afloat in it. or. a-a man expressed it "There is no - ib-tanc to the water, and a man i sr.'t swim easily." The lake is full of fish of different k!:.<K it is off cal. •si Ihi Fish Lake, on acount ■-fa brilliant red fish that swarms its wt r- Their remarkable beauty charms the eye. their jw-uliax habits well repay a close study and observation, and when served hot for breakfast no daintier dish could Is- desired. They are quite large, weighing from two and a half t - four pounds. Their bodi'is are a bright r<-l, and the h'-.vl and fins are a light brown. They 1- >k in the water like - arb-t -atin. The male lias a decid'sl hump or. his b.v k, and a turn'-d up nose, while the female is |>erfx tlr straight. In th< spawning s ;i*on they run up the creeks that bs*l the lake in vast nu ml ten*, to the gravel Iwds in shallow water. They dart hither and thither so swiftly and in such a multi tude that the water seems, at times, an almost Solid mass of color. They must live on aniniah übi. for n > f<*l is ever found in th'-ir stoma' i.x, n>r are their digestive organs tittxl for s--lid food They will not take bait of any kind, but are sprat ed and taken like salmon, to whom I supjHise they must lear some family relation. IVhcn the young ixre hatched, they soon seek the deeper waters of the lake, and then disappear, probably going to the dee|>est part, where the; remain until nearly full grown, or about three years. , The Position for Sleeping. A German. Baron lieh'henbaeh, has occupied many years in studying the art of bcdmaklng. or rather U-dpla ing. and maintains that improperly placed Usis will shorten a man's life. He -ays; If a mere magnet exercises an influence on sensitive persons, that earth's magnetism must certainly make Itself felt on the nervous life of man. In whatever hemisphere you may le, always sleep with your feet to the equator, and let your Iswly lie as .'true a a needle to the jtole." The proper direction of the l*ly is of the utmost importance for the proper cir culation of the blood, and many dis turbances in the organisms have liecn cured by simply placing the Ix.lster at a different |Hint of the compass from that it had occupied. Let such as have hitherto lieen in the habit of sleeping with their feet where their head ought to t>e, take to heart the example of the late Dr. Fis<-hwester, of Magdehurg who died recently at the age of 109 years. The most unhealthy position, we are told when the liody lies east and west Some observers assure us that to sleep In such a position is tan tamount to committing suicide, and that diseases are often aggravated by deviations from the proper posture. Spurn and Whip*. The Matory of spurs la both curious an'l entertaining. The earliest form of spur was a single goad or sharp p 'int. The dashing young knights of the feudal times had a great love for deco rating their spurs with jewels. In the tournaments they used spurs with mottoes on the shanks. One such had "A true knight and I" on one side, and "Anger me and try" on the other. ily ancient custom, the chorister hoys in the cathedrals can claim "spur money" if anybody enters the sacred edifice with spurs on: If you brine in iptir or list, Sixpence you |my— be mire of that. The whip was not so knightly as the spur; it however took part in several old customs. In the ancient city of York was a day called whip-dog day, on which the lioys were accustomed to go around and whip every (log they met. This originated in the following peculiar fact. A priest once celebrating mass drupjied the pix, which an urireligiout dog snapped up and swallowed. The profane Ix-ast was hung, an(l foi years lus species was subjected to tur ment f• -r his outrageous impiety. That was, of course, in the good old times- Another humane game connected with the whip was this; A rooster was tb-d to the branch of a tree. The players were blindfolded ami presented with long whips. They were then led to a little d.stance, ami commenced lashing in all dire tions, the fun con -i-tinj/ in the smart cuts they gave one another. The one who struck the roos ter lirst, and made him cry out, won the game. The old game of whijetop is as old ax hi>t- n. In Dryden's trarislat, >n f Virgil's .Kneid we read: • A ye n*- tri|il;ru: "hip Out top for spot t On the wmooth of the etnj ty court. Two hundred years ago tnen played w! .p-tep as eagerly a- the b- ys, and n "ome villages a "town top" was j re v ided for the amusement of the jo r. rairnacions Ponies. Ponies are < uumon in India, but the juailitest of them all is a little fellow run to seed and (aihsl the t.ittoo. A correspondent of the London Firld f:r n.-hes the f...lowing d-s- riptlon: It is a j tony with few- redeeming qualities to -et • ff against a whole -tableful of \ ' ut an, ng his very questionable \ .rtiu* may be r( • koned bis pugnacity # S . great i- this, that it would !*• quite JIS- l.le to kis-p Indian tatUeia, like c . k-. for lighting purposes. If decent ly fed. groomed, and but moderately worked, they will become as high rouragixl as game cocks, and as ready to rush at one another, and to do battle to the death, as birds In the pit, A chestnut pony of this sort—a child's j ny. too has l*-en known to bite off the ear of another pony for his break fast. and to assimilate a very consider able portion of the tail of another tattoo in the course of the afternoon. When hard worked and ill fed —as he generally is in a native stable--the tattoo's pugnacity, for which one c an not but give him credit, is turned into a stubliornnesH that would astonish a donkey. Nothing w ill move him. not even a rope round his fore b-g, backed up by profanity and blows. A stoic might admire the animal when in this mood if he did not belong to himself. Hut perhaps after the five fat natives within the box on wheels, to which the tattoo is attached, have given up all hopes of moving for that day and have letaken themselves to the chew ing of lietel nut as a solacing and phil osophical employment of the hour, the cunning and malicious tattoo will make a sudden and unexpected dash forward with the reins atmut his heels, when may bo witnessed the edifying spectacle of five fat batioos laid upon the road at equal distances, just like the eggs and the lasket, as in athletic performances. Tjie tattoo's mind, such as it Is. Is. in fact, against every man and every man's hand is against hire. But although morally bad and physi* rally unlovely there are good points about the brute after all. It may take time to discover them, still there are hopes for the tattoo of the future. The Malls. The growth of the nails is more rap id in children than in adults and slow est in the aged; goes on faster In the summer than in the w inter, so that the same nail which is renewed tn one hundred and thirty-two daye in win ter. requires only one hundred and six. teen in summer. The Increase of the nails of the right hand Is more rapid than those of the left; moreover. It dlf- , fera for the different Angers, and in order corresponds with the length of the Anger, consequently It is fastest in the middle Anger, nearly equal In the two on either side of thla, slower in the little Anger and slowest In the thumb. The growth of all the natls on the left hand requires eighty-two day* more than those of the right