Mt $ow$t gcpuMfaro. is runLtniiKi) kvery wkunesimy, by W 11. DUNV OrriCE I ROBINSON & BONNER'B boi2mso ELM BTREET, TIONE8TA, PA. - -- , TERMS, 2,oo A YKAH. rVl,?lnlb"nr.,.pt,on,, rw"lved for a shorter period tlmn three months. M!?Ir-Npor,'lM,ro W'lH tod from nil part 2nonV ntry' N nli,, WlU b0 OQ 0 aonyuloU9 communications. Rates of Advertising. On Square (1 Inrh.one insertion - $! OneHquare " one month - -3 00 One Square " three months - 6 00 One Square " ono year - - 10 00 Two Squares, one year - 15 0o Quarter Col. - - - - 30 00 Half " " " - 50 00 One " - - - 100 00 Legal notlcos at established rates. Marriage and death notices, gratis. All bills for yoarly advertisements col lected quarterly. Temporary advertise ments must be paid for in advance. Job work, Cash on Delivery. VOL. XI. NO. 24. TIUNESTA, PA., SEPTEMBER 4, 1878. $2 PER ANNUM. 1 Tho Path Through the Coi$3t Warm and brhrlin tho summer air, Like a pleasant suaYhen the wind blows fair, And its ronghent broath had scarcely period The grcon highway to a diwtant world, Soft wliiHporn passing from Hhore to shoro, At from boarts ooiitont yet doglring more Who fools all forlorn. Wandering thus down tho path through the corn? A short spaoo since, and the dead loaves lav Mouldering under the hedgesew gray, Nor hum of in soot, nor voloo ot bird, O'er the desolate field was over hoard; Only at ovo the pallid snow Blushod roue-red in tho rati aun-glow; Till, one blent morn, Shot up into life tho young groon corn. Bmall and feeble, slondor and pale, It bent its hood to tho winter gale, Hearkcued tho wren's soft note of cheer, Hardly believing spring was near; Haw chefitnuU bud out, and campions blow, And daiuies mimio the vanished snow VVbore it was born On either side of tho path through the oorn. The oorn, the corn, the beautiful oorn, Ilislng woudorful, morn by morn; First scarco as high as a fairy's wand, Thon JURt in reach of a child's wee hand; Then growing, growing tail, brave and strong, With the voioe of new harvests in its song; Whilo in fond soorn Tho lark out-carols tho whispering oorn. A strange, sweet path, formod day by day, How, when and wherefore we cannot say, No more than of our life-paths we know, Whither they lead us; why wo go, Or whether our eyes shall ever see The wheat in the ear or the fruit on the tree! Yet, who's forlorn t lie who wa ored the furrows can ripen the ooru. Tho Romance of a Studio. In the every-day working world there are hot sunshine and rattle of carriages, the oenaolesa tread of restless feet and the oou fused Babel of a thousand differ ent sounds. Butn the very throng of it one can turn into a long high hall, climb a wide dim etairvay, and enter a totally different place and atmosphere; that is Don Lapel's studio. Four easels are in the room, on each an mtfluiahed picture, and the whole air of the place is that of still, thought ful, purposeful work. Lepel is a painter of the modern sohool industri ous audthoronghly respectable, with a fashionable visiting list, and a good oredit in the Secoud National Bank. lam sorry to admit that he is not hanisoino. People expect beauty ol artists ; but Lepel is short and rather stout, and hat other deficiencies not worth particular mention. Still, as lie stands before his easel with his palette ou his thumb, calling up on hia canvas a face of exquisite beauty, there is a sense of power about this ordinary man which almost ennobles him, lie has been working this warm June day Bince early morning, and he is satis fled with himself. "I will go to the Park now," -he says, approvingly; I ' shall enjoy a stroll, and perhaps I may take a pull up the lake." That waB Lepel's very sensible idea of recreation ; and ho had qnite tired him self with the first part of his programme when he came to a little rustic seat un der some pines near the upper boat house. There was a girl Bitting reading at one end of the bench, but she was very young arid very shabby, and he did not in the least fear that Bha would con sider him an intrusion. At first he watched the boats, but praduolly his companion attracted him. Her form was faultless, and he found himself dressing and posing it in all the characters which juat then ocoupied his pencil. Of her face he could see noth ing at all, for there was a little brown sun-shade between them. This was so far favorable that it allowed him to make a thumb-nail sketch of her attitude, which was extremely natural and grace ful; and he had scarcely done it when fortune played him a pleasant 'rick; the girl, in attempting to tear open a leaf, let her sun-shade slip; it fell to the ground, and Lepel stooped and lifted it for her. The next moment they stood face to face, and Lepel exclaimed, in tones whioh were a strange mixture of pleas ure and annoyanoe, "Why, Bee ! Is it possible I" Bee shrugged her shoulders and said, petulantly, she supposed it wsGT "And I have been sitting beside yon twenty minutes, and did not know you." I know you." "Why did you not speak ?" "My dress was so shabby and my shoes. I suppose you have grown rioh. "Do you Buppose I have grown a snob also, Bee ? Sit down; I want to talk to you." "Really?" "Yes, really. Where is your father now?" "lie died last summer." "Poor child ! What have you been doing Bince?" " I can find nothing to do. During the opera season I sang in the chorus, and I made my money last as long as possible. But I am very poor; you can see that." " Bee, I owed your father some money for oopying " " No, you did not, Mr. Lepel. You cannot offer me charity on that plea. But if you know any way to get me work, that would bo a great kindness ; if not, I must live as the birds do, from crumb to crumb, till winter oomes. " Suppose you let me board you with Signor Z . He would prepare you for a better engagement, and you could pay me from your first receipts for your father's sake, Bee ?" " Why should yon do this for father's sake ? You were not friends; you had not been to see ns for four years. I hoard that yeu had rich patrons and had crown proud." " Well, Boo, I will make you another offer. I want a model, say, from two to four hours a day. You will have to stand in very fatiguing postures, and I shall perhaps get cross and unreasona ble, aud forget yon aro Beatrice Erling; T Ml ..J - 11.. l uu x win give you tun uiguesc terms, and pay you every day as you earn the money. " What will you give me?" " Fifty cents an hour." " That will do.' When shall I come?" " To-morrow at ten o'clock." The conversation had fallen into a purely business tone, and after those arrangements. Lepel handed her his card, and said a rather cool " good evening." For now that the thing was done, he was uncertain as to its wisdom. In the first place, he had offered Bee un usually high terms: and in the second. he had voluntarily connected himself - I . . . . ugnin wiiu a ciass oi arusis lor wnom ue had neither respect nor sympathy. He knew that he liad been influenced by Bee's beauty, and that if she had been ugly or ill formed, his remembrance of her would not have led him to any such active sympathy. "It is a bad plan," said tho young man to himself, " to analyze one's good deeds. I have not a bit of self-com plaisance in what I have done for Tom Erling's daughter ro-night, and I sup pose now she will be a great nuisance to me." This rencontre compelled him. even against his inclination, to recall the gay. clever, idle fellow whom he had bo long forgotten. " What an in Unite genius that man had I" he muttered ; " there was nothing he oould not turn his pencil to ; and as for musio, it was his native tongue." But, for all that, Tom Erling had been a failure and a broken promise. He worked irregularly, he never kept his word, he fell into debt, borrowed money, and by oontinual petty imposi tions sinned away bis most faithful friends. And yet the man had some ex cuses ; for he had been set to fight a battle for whioh nature had provided him with no weapons. Time I money I obligations ! Tom knew the value of none of these things. He ought to have lived in some sunny Italian city, and been cared for as the ravens aro. Lepel had at first been charmed with his easy good-humor, his song and wit, and free-handed generosity. But men can't afford to pay euooess and fame for tftese pleasant things, and he had found himself compelled to drop an acquaint anceship which brought him nothing but unreasonable claims and annoy ances. Beatrice had then been a Bhipshod. iil-cared-for girl of twelve years old, perfectly familiar with all her father's shiftless, dishonorable ways of raising money. Scrambling breakfasts, disor derly dinners, alternate fasting and feasting, was the girls domestic story. She had picked up a knowledge of readr ing and writing, and New York had done the rest for -her. In some marvellous way she had acquired lady-like and rather reserved manners, and the know! edge of now to make the most of the little clothing she was able to procure. But even among her father a asso ciates she had no friends. These genial good fellows had nothing to spare for themselves. They all spoke pityingly of "poor little Bee," but not one of them would have denied himself a cigar for her sake. When her father oould no longer protect her, she had even got to fear him, and to feel their notice of her, in some way or another, an insult. But Don Lepel s offer was a different thing. She thought it over after he had left her. recalled his looks and tones. and felt satisfied. "You are a lucky little bench," she said, smiling, and touching ' almost superstitiously the rough wood, "and I feel as if good fortune had been making me a call." The next evening she was rather more doubtful of it Lepel had been very oool, and had made her fully earn her fifty cents an hour. However, as the weeks passed away, things grew pleas anter. Bee had plenty of tact, and had been in an excellent school for develop ing it. She saw at once that Lepel did not trust her, and that she would have to win his confidence. Indeed, Lepel was constantly expecting to find her the daughter of her father. He feared that she would break her word, forget her appointments, or ask for money in advance. As her reserve passed away, and she became witty and merry, or indulged herself in snatches of song or a new step in a dance, he expected these moral aberrations more and more. But they did not come. Bee grew rosy-cheeked and light-hearted, began to dress with much taste, managed her small funds with discretion, and said, gratefully, "she began to see the good of living." In fact, before the winter was over she had got, through Lepel's influence, a comfortable little business as "model," and was making with her six hours' hard strain three dollart a day. The June sunlight in which we first saw Lepel's studio is now January sun light. Somehow the room has a bright look; perhaps it is the basket of flowers on the table, or perhaps it might be such a trifle as a cunning pair of bronze slippers trimmed with cherry-colored bows that are standing on the hearth rug. Don Lepel has just put them there. It is a very, very cold morning; of oonrse tnat aooounts for the action He stands looking at them with i dreamy look iu Lis eyes, very unusual to those keen gray orbs, until ho hears a clear quick footstep oome pit-patting along the hall. Then he resumes his preoccupied air and his palette and penoiL The door opens, and in oomei Bee. Her face is like a rose, her eyes like stars; her dark blue suit has bits o snow all over it, and so has her trim lit-" tie hat and feathers. She nods to Lepel, shakes herself jauntily, and then taking off her hat, fans it gently before the fire to reourl the feathers. "Better put on your slippers, Bee. I can't have you take cold now, with these threepiotures on hand." "Which do I sit for this morning?" "Ophelia. I have been painting tho face from mademoiselle's photo; you will dross and pose for the character." I don't feel like the love-lorn damsel this morning. Bah I The idea of any woman dying for love, and the snow, and the sunshine, and the joys of music, and reading, and eating, and walking to live for I I suppose she was insane of course she was. She was unbuttoning her boots during this tirade, and when she had slipped her feet into the bronze slippers and waltzed twice round the room, dodging Apollo and Hercules very cleverly, she announced herself ready to begin. . In a few minutes the secret of he high spirits was evident. Lepel read to her a few lines, and her face and hair and figure instantly translated them; the very droop of her arms was a revelation of physical sympathy. Two or three times while occupied with minor details he let her rest, and she trailed the long robes of the Danish maiden up and down the room, chatting all the time in the merriest every-day manner. " Had Lepel heard that Clif ford's picture was sold ? Did he know that Harry Martin and Palozzi had quar relled ? Was he going to the Lotos, and if so, would he tell her how Miss K 's dress was trimmed?" Then she told him of a new song she was learning, and obligingly hummed over part o( the melody.. And so back again to the heroine of a thousand years ago. At last Lepel says, " That will do to day, Bee. Will you go and have an oyster pate with me, or is Clifford wait ing for you ?" "I dont like oyster pates. If yon give me a quail I will go." ' ery well, Miss Extravagance, you have done admirably to-day, and you shall have a quail. Then are yon going to Clifford's ?" " Why do you tease me about Clif ford's? I am not going to Clifford's any more." " "But why not T " A woman's reason because I am not." The next morning, Lepel met her very stiffly. ' Before you robe, Bee, I want to tpeak to you. Sit down and warm your feet." m She put the pretty slippered feet on the fender, and looked curiously up at him. "Well?" "Clifford was here last night, and I know why you would not go there yes terday. Think again, Boo. Yu might do much worse. I have tried to be your friend, and I must say this much." " Oh, ion advise me to marry Clif ford." For a moment her face was ablaze with scorn, but the next her eyes son edit Lionel's iust for a moment : he thei&esitated, and the chance was forever lost to him. Nothing oould be more cold and saroastio than her next atti tude. "Clifford has genius, Bee, and in dustry ; he is struggling bravely for a position. " I hate poor struggling men. I saw plenty of them in my childhood. Suc cess is the one thing forever good. The successful man is the handsomest man and the wise man ; he alone is worthy of a woman's love." She spoke extravagantly, as was her habit nnder excitement, but Lepel was annoyed at it " I do not like your advice, " she con tinued, angrily. " You favored Mon tana because he could cultivate my voioe, and I might thus have a carrer with him ; and now you advise that I become wife to the poor struggling Clifford, iu order to save him the ex pense of a model, I suppose." " Don t be unjust, Bee. l only wish ed to see you cared for." Thank you ; but I have my own ideas as to what being cared for means." "Do you mind enlightening me ?'' " Not at all. It means a luxurious home, servants and carriages, foreign travel, home entertainments, and a hus band whose greatest joy is to gratify my wisheB." Lepel hardly knew whether she was in jest or earnest, for she stood up to make her explanation, and ended it with a pirouette that brought her suddenly face to face with a gentleman whose amnsed expression showed that he had been a listener to her avowed matri monial position. Then Lepel turned with a bow to his visitor, and Bee vanished behind an old oaken screen a convenient place for an observation, and Bee was not above peeping at the intruder. He was a man of about fifty years of age, with a fine presence, and that indefinable aurio at mosphere around him which envelops tho confidently rich man. Boa liked his appearance, and was rather pleased to observe that he glanced around the room before leaving it ; she was sure that he was looking for her. There was no more now to be said about Clifford's hopes, and no more advice to be given to Bee; Lepel for got everything in his gratification at Mr. Belmar's visit and the orders lie had given him. These orders really required some supervision, but hardly as much as that gentleman gave them, In a few weeks he was a very regular vititor at Lepel's studio. He said he enjoyed these visits, and it is probable he did. Bee's costumes and characters, her sunny good temper, her queer criti cisms on players, politicians, artists, and the world in general, made it a con stantly changing entertainment. If Bee suspected that she had inter ested Mr. Bel mar which it is likely she discovered at onoe Lepel certainly never did. He considered his patron as. a genuine lover of art, and a peculiar admirer of his own peculiar style and coloring. That he should admire Bee's kitten-like movements, and applaud all her clever, keen little epigrams, was natural enough: he did that himself, and everybody else did it Thus the winter passed pleasantly and profitably away. Bee had saved a little money, and was taking singing lessons. " If she was to have a career," she said, spitefully, to Lepel, " it should not be with any Montana." So now in her intervals ef rest she sang scales and astonishing exercises; she said the lofty rooms suited her, 'and they objected to her practice in her boarding-house. Lepel lad no objections to her rioh musical intervals; besides, it gave him occasionally the pleasure of saying, " That is a false note, Bee. " It was again June, and Lepel had put the finishing touches to Mr. Belmar's last picture. He met that gentleman one warm afternoon in Union Squaro, and told him so. Then they turned toward the studio, and went up" to. look at it It was an Italian scene, and Bee, dressed as a Tuscan peasant with a basket of grapes on her left shoulder, was the only figure. She is a beautiful girl," said Mr. Bclmar, thoughtfully, "Either as Princess Bee or Peasant Boe she is per fect. By-the-bye, what is her na ne?" " Her. name," said Lepel, coldly, "is eatrice Erling." " Erling? Erling? Not Tqm Erling's daughter?" "Torn Erling's daughter. Did you know Tom?" "We were brought np in the same Conneticnt village, and went to the same district school. Tom beat me in all the classes, and I whipped him out of them. Then he fell in love with my sister in short, there was a quarrel, and Tom came to New York. He must be poor, to let his daughter " "He is dead. His wife was an Italian singer who died soon after Bee's birth. The poo child has no relatives." "I will tell my sister about her. She is an invalid now, with very few pleas ures or interests. I am sure she will be glad to befriend Tom Erling's daugh ter." In this way it came to pass that Bee was soon constantly visiting at Miss Belmar's pretty cottage on the Hudson, and that whenever she was there, Miss Belmar's brother also found it convenient to oome out with a few new books or some early fruit. Indeed, the mciden lady, almost confined to her house, had given her heart very realily to this bright, pretty child of the only man she had ever loved. She could befriend Bee, and do something for her; and this in itself was a great pleasure to the poor invalid, so long the recipient and not the giver of kindness. So when in early July Lepel shut his studio and went away for four months, Bee's small personal effects were remov ed to Miss Belmar's, and she spent the summer there. And it was amusing to Bee what easily detected little plots and plans this lady laid in order to bring about a marriage that had been already determined upon. Bee had never been so happy in all her life; the sweetness and coolness and repose, the tender love and ceaseless at tentions, tho riding and boating and moonlight strolls, made the time pass like an enchanted dream. Mr. Belmar watched her constantly, but found noth ing in which it was necessary to direct or advise her, for with that wonderful adaptive tact inherent in American wo men she caught not only the habit but the tone of the circumstances surround ing her, and made them a part of her self. Early in November she went one morning into the city and climbed again the familiar stairway lea ling to Lepel's studio. He had resumed work, and met her with a petulant complaint : "Where on earth have you been, Bee ? I have written three times for you." She did not answer immediately ; but sitting down before the fire, and putting her feet on the fender in her old way, she turned her head and looked rather sadly down tha long room. " Lepel, what charm is there is this life, I won der ? Who that has lived in Bohemia ever left it without a sigh ?" " You don't mean to say that you are leaving it?" "Yes, I came to say 'farewell.' I shall never make money or make merry in this dear old room again. I am going to be married." " To Clifford ?" " What an idea I No, Sir, to Mr. Belmar. I Bhall order pictures of you now, Lepel, and patronize you dread fully." "Don't pull my prices down, Bee. That is all I ask." " But that is exactly what I shall do. Mr. Belmar will have a great many ex- Eenses with me. I Bhall not let him uy any more pictures." She spoke in her old saucy way, bal ancing her muff first on one hand and and then on the other ; but in spite of her jesting way, Lepel saw she was in earnest about her marriage. He said a few low words of congratulation, and went busily on with his work. Bee felt instantly sobered. Was he angry with her ? Was he jealous of her good for tune, or selfishly sorry to lose bo good a model ? If Bee had believed it any of these things, her tongue would have avenged hef, but some look on the grave, sorrowful face" made her remem ber the moment when she had seen Love's oonfession trembling on his lips. She rose quietly, said a few words of gratitude and farewell, and before Lepel could answer them, was gone. Then Lepel, taking from a shelf a pair of small bronze slippers, locked them carefully away, and with them looked away the one love of his life. He worked harder than usual, worked till the room was cold and dark, then throwing down his pencil, he made his only complaint on the subject : "I don't blame her : she never knew ; I hardly knew myself. Well, well, life is full of might nave beensl' " Again the January snow is in the brisk cold air, and Lepel's cheery studio has its old look of earnest labor. He is before his easel, but he is not working with his usual serious attention. The reason lies on the table beside bim in the shape of a note of invitation to din ner at Mr. Belmar's. A year has passed since he saw Bee, and he is not at all in love now, but still she possesses a greater interest for him than any other women. He wonders how she will look, and what she will say, and whether he himself ought not to buy a new evening suit for the occasion. Also there is dimly present a pleasant expectation of orders, for Lepel is never oblivious to Buch profitable contingencies. Stillf if he had one selfish thought, he forgot it in nobler feelings when he saw Bee again that night Standing in his quiet recess, he watched the beauti ful woman, serene in temper, elegant in manners, and exquisitely clothed, guide the whole entertainment charmingly to its end. Her husband still her lover trusted absolutely in her, and his sister watched her with a pride that was almost motherly; it was evident she was to be a woman of great domestic and social influence. Lepel sat long that night over his studio fire thinking about her. "How often I have scolded her in this very room I how often she has said 'Thank you' for a two-dollar bill right here on this hearth-rug I and yet how cleverly she made me feel, without a shade of pride or unkindness, that she was now Mrs. Belmar ! Belmar has got a model wife." And Lepel smiled grimly at the only pun he had ever made. "Now no man oouhl Blip into a position like that, and fit it so exquisitely; but women puzzle me more and more every year especially American women. Har per's Weekly. Coney Island. Coney Island comes in for a good shore of notice in the New York Tribune, be ing given some five columns of descrip tion and illustrated by several maps. It is an extraordinary story of the sudden growth and development of a popular resort out of a barren sandy shore. Within leas than ten years, four miles of the beach a saudy tract on Long Island at the entrance to New York harbor was a desolate waste, which nobody claimed and nobody visited. There were a few bath houses, and a small Mtel where an invalid could half-live, Half-starve. A single steamboat did service as a tug-boat, lighter and pass enger boat. One railroad ran down near the center of the island, but there was neither hotel nor depot at its end. Within four years, and mostly within the past two, seven railways have been constructed; in place of one dilapidated there are three elegant steamers, and four more excursion steamers ply as regularly as ferries, the single hotel with its five shabby rooms has been succeeded by at least twenty, three of which are as good as those at any sea side resort Claimants are plenty for land which a few years ago nobody would own, and leases that then went begging at seventy-five dollars each are now held at $30,000 for the two years yet to lapse. Where $100,000 was not in 1874 invested in hotels, railways, steamboats and pavilions, now fully $5, 000,000 is employed, and where fifty persons found occupation three months iu the year, now 2,600 find constant employment. It is remarkable that a place bo convenient to New York and bo well adapted for giving the hot and weary people of the city fresh air and water, should be so long given up to "clammers" and "crabbers," or to pio nio parties of suoh a character that re spectable people were obliged to keep away or submit to insult and possibly worse. Its rapid growth is equally re markable, and its advantages and capac ity for entertaining the constantly in creasing patronage is being developed more and more each year. Spitting Spite." No blows are struck in the East. A quarrel in Bulgaria is accompanied by a series of highly exasperated expectora tions, reminding the observer of a noc turnal feline combat. One of the com batants spits upon the pavement,- in what he conceives to be an intensely malignant and daring manner; his an tagonist immediately follows suit, and spits upon his side of the street in what he imagines to be a more desperate and blood-curdling style, and, if the con troversy is a very deadly one, the par ticipants keep up the bombardment of the unfortunate sidewalk until their lips are so dry that they rattle in a vain attempt to expend more ammunition. When this point is reached, the dispu tants generally walk off in different di rections, turning back every two minutes for the first two miles to shake their flsta in the direction they suppose their an tagonists to have taken, Items of Interest. Americans eat twice as much salt as the English. The grasshoppers have appeared in Central America. A fast young man: The one who sat. down on a pot of glno. The first piano in the United States was made at Philadelphia in 1775. All honest men will bear watching. It is the rasoals who cannot stand it Women love flowers and birds. They are, however, not so partial to swallows as the men are. A quidnunk iz an individual who goes about stealing other folk's time, and phooling away lis own. Josh Billings. "How greedy you are I" said one little girl to another who had taken the best apple in the dish; "I was going to take that." The people who never mUke enny mistakes nor blunders have all the neo essarys ov life, but miss the luxurjs. Josh Billings. There was a time in this country when the man who was sunstruck would ttrike back, but Americans are loosing their taste for war. Detroit Free Press. The small boy looks with longing eyes, Upon the apple green; Ho ill not touch thorn if he's wise. Lurking in the core there lies . Colio and cramp unseen. - "Will, I fear you are forgetting me," said a bright-eyed coquette to her favor ite beau. "Yes, Sue, I have been for getting you these two years," was"' the suggosivte reply. -'. ; Shakespeare makes nse of the. words "And thereby hangs a tale" in four of his plays "Taming of the Shrew,' "Othello " "Merry Wives of Windsor," and "As You Like it" The inhabitants of Madagascar are dying to get hold of an American ship captain who sold them 10,000 quart cans of tomatoes as a new kind of gun powder. Their old blunderbusses wouldn't go off. THE BUMBLE BEE. Buzzing little busybody, Happy liitle hay-nold rover. Don't you feel your own importanoe, Bustling through these wilds of clover ? " Don't your little wings grow weary Of this never-waning labor? When the butterfly swings near yon, Envy you your idle neighbor ? " Btny a moment ! Stay anl tell mo. Won't my gossip make you tarry? Hurry home, thou, honey-laden, Fast as busy wings can carry. " Fare-the-well, my tiny toiler, " Noisy little mid-air steamer; Tbou hast taught a wholesome lesson To an idle daylight dreamer. A Novel Position of Danger. There are probably many persons lir ing in the shadow of Jennings' Knob, iu WilEon county, Tenn., who aro unac quainted with the origin of the name. The Btory, as told by Captain Jennings himself, for whom the Knob was named, is as follows : A party of scouts from tho stations on Bledsoe creek, in Summer county, was over in Wilson on a tour of observation for Indian signs. It was a habit of the settlers to keep out men all the time, who went in succession the entire circuit of the settlement, in order to give timely warning of any hostile approach. As tho party referred to were prepar ing to camp late one winter afternoon, Captain Jennings, who was one of tho number, Btarted out to kill a buffalo from a herd which was near by. There was a heavy sleet on tho ground, and ho found it difficult to get a good range on account of tho noise of his feet on-tho craoking ice ; but after following tho game for several miles, he at last killed a very large bull at the top of a high knob. Fearing thnt the meat would be injured if lolt until next morning, he skinned tho animal and took out tho viscera. By the time he had finished his task night had oome, and ho decided to remain with his meat instead of seek ing camp in the darkness. So, wrapping the huge hide around him, 11 esh sido out, he lay down and slept very com fortably until morning. On awaking he fouud himself tightly imprisoned in the hide, which had frozen hard during the night, and now resisted all his efforta to escape. Hour after hour rolled by in agony to the captain. He yelled at the top of his voioe for help, and strained and kickod with all his great strength at his rawhide inclosure, but it proved stubborn to the last degree. He ej ected his companions to search for him, and they did, but with a groat deal of caution, fearing that he had bem killed by Indians. His prolonged ab sence could be accounted for in no other way. The captain, in relating the circum stance to Captain Rogers years after, says that he gave up all hope of extri cating himself as the hours wore away and his companions foiled to come to his rescue ; he s apposed that they had become alarmed at his absence and had left the vicinity with the idea that he was dead, and that it was unsafe to search for his body. Truly it was a trying situation which his great strength and will had failed to overcome. To a man who had escaped Indian bulleta aud had swam icy rivers like a beaver, such a dsath was mortifying in the ex treme ; but such was the prospect h-s had to face alone and unaided by human power in the depths of the wilderness. We will let him relate the issue iu Li a own words, in answer to a question as t how he finally escaped : " Wall, the h oome out in the afternoon, and '.this ened the hide ou top so I oould t-: ' t arm out, and when I got one an I worked Hfce rizen nutil I get I,N
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers