Rates Of Advertising.
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noSinaro " dim montli - - 3 OH
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Quarter C!ol. ' W 00
Half " " - 50 t'O
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IB rt'llLfaill.1) KVKIIV WLONIXDAY, HI
ar. xi. wnrjic
OFFICE I!T ROBINSON & B0!INER'8 BtJILDIKO
ELM STREET, TIONHJTA, ?A.
TER1I3, tl.60 YEAR.
No Rulmcrlptinn received for a shorter
iriod tlmn tlirco months.
('on()HK)ii(1pnco NolicltoJ ironi all pnrN
il t ho country. No notice will betaken o
anonymous communications.
WW
One
. 100 00
Legal notices at established rates.
MnrriiiRe and death notices, gratis.
All bills for yearly advertisement col
lected quarterly. Temporary advertise
ments must bo paid for in advance.
Job work. Caxh on Ielivory.
Vol. XIV. No. 33.
TIONESTA, PA,, WEDNESDAY, NOV. 9, 1881,
$1.50 Per Annum,
li fi -0
Mttm
I II II
Life's True Significance, .j
Deeper than all tense of seeiDg '
Lies the socret source of being, '
And the soul with truth agreeing
Learnt to live in thoughts and deeds;
For the lifo, is more than raiment,
And the earth is pledged for payment
Unto man for all Lis needs.
Nature Is our common mothor,
Every living man our brother,
Thorefore lot as serve each othor;
Not to raeot the law's behests,
llut because through cheorful giving
We shall learn the art of living;
And to livotnd serve is best.
Life is more than what man fancies I
Not a gamo of idle chances;
But it steadily advances
Up the the raggod heights of time,
Till each coinplox web of tronblo,
Every sad hopoj broken bubble,
Hath a meaning most sublime.
More of religion, lcs of profession;
More of firninoss. less concession;
Moro of freedom, less oppression,
In tho church and in the stato;
Moro of life and loss of fashion;
More of love and lest of passion;
That will make us good and great.
When true hearts dlvinoly gifted,
From thi chaff of error gifted,
On their crosses are uplifted, '
Bhall the world most clearly boo
That earth's greatest time of trial
Calls for holy self-denial,
Calls on men to do and be.
But forever and forever
Let It be the soul's endeavor
Lovo from hatred to dissever,
And in whatsoe'er wo do.
Won by love's eternal beauty,
' , To our highest son so of duty
Evermore be firm and true.
Stratford Herald.
A VICTIM OP DUTY.
TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF LOCIS
COIAA8.
Yon bare often seen him pass through
the fields with a hasty step, recogniz
able not only by his blouse and hi
reflation hat, bat also by the uns
tained activity ot his movements, be
oanse for him the instants are counted
and he has not the right to slacken his
pace. An indefatigable walker, he ao
complishes his task from the first to the
last day of the year without ever rest
ing. No matter though a tropical sun
invite all creatures to become motion
less, though the cold be Siberian,
though it blow and snow, he must go to
the last village on bis route to carry the
letters, newspapers and prospectuses
which trade confides by millions to the
eare of th post.
The highways are not made for him ;
must he not cross the country, passing
through woods and marshes, to Beck
the hut lost in the depths of the soli
tn. far removed from any public
road?
He travels from eight to ten leagues
daily, making circuits, crossing brooks,
scaling rocks, venturing into ravines
and wounding himself amongthe hedges
and briars. . Loitering is forbidden to
him, for the official hour of return is
fixed; the letters he brings baok must
depart by the next mail. They are
waited for at the postofflce and the least
variation of his programme may have
grave consequences.
We cannot without ingratitude forget
the services of this incorruptible mes
senger, whose probity and zeal are con
stantly put to the proof, who brings us
at a certain hour our letters and our
journals, the news, the expectation of
whioh keeps us full of anxiety; who
contributes to soften for us the bitter
ness of absence and distance. Imagine
the void the disappearance of these
humble functionaries would leave in
our existence I
I knew a man who for twenty years
filled this position. A former soldier,
thanks to irreproachable records of
service strengthened by a little influ
ence, he had obtained the great favor of
having placed to his sredit fifty francs
per month at the postofflce of the dis
trict. J'eie Martin was not very fond of
this brilliant position, but he perfectly
understood his responsibility and duties;
he never complained.
Everybody in the . district was
acquainted with this little gray-haired
man with bronzed features, whose limbs
had the pliancy nd strength of steel,
lie was highly appreciated, for, while a
scrupulous observer of the regulation,
he never refused to perform a service,
provided it did not conflict with his
duties.
There was not a corner of his route
which he had not passed over, accom
panied by his wolf dog. He knew to a
meter the distance separating the small
est hamlet from the chief town of the
district, and was familiar with all the
paths and byways.
To spare himself half an hour's walk
he never would have thrown into a
ditch some silly prospectus or some
pitted mattcrearing a doubtful ad
dresa ; if he returned anything to the
postofflce i was because its address
could not be found, lie was the slave
of his orders, as punctual as the clock,
aad so discreet as to discourage the
most curious. Everybody greeted im
kindly when he arrived at a village; the
children came to him, and even the
dogs barked joyously at his approach.
There was considerable rivalry as to
Mho should oiler him a glass of cider
and a slice of bacon. But he rarely
incepted anything. Tima poued and
he did not like to contract troublesome
obligations. ' ' ' '. r
Hence the notes made concerning
him were excellent, and his" chiefs re
gretted that the parsimony of the ad
ministration only permitted them to
reward his loyal services with con
temptible gifts. i'
One day in the middle of October he
departed on is usual round. Tho
weather was frightful; it had been
raining incessantly for more than a
week; the roads had become bogs and
tho brooks had been transformed into
torrents; what foliage remained on the
trees" was ko impregnated with water
that it could not offer a protecting
shelter. The postman, wet to the skin,
walked with the impassibility of an old
soldier who does not discuss his orders.
He had distributed a portion of his
mail, but his round was far from being
finished when he passed an inn, or rather
a miserable drinking-house, situated at
the entrance of a wood; this place was
mainly patronized by sabot-makers, who
found there alcoholic drinks and a few
groceries.
" Ho ! Monsieur, the postman, stop
here for an instant; while you are giv
ing me the information I need, the
violence of the storm will abate."
This invitation was addressed to him
by a man who, with a pipe in his
mouth, was standing upon the threshold
of the drinking-house.
The rain was pouring down at that
moment; a fierce blast swept it into
Pere Martin's face, prevented him from
walking and bent to the ground the
stalwart trees.
The postman was a littlo ahead of
time, and the demands of the service
do not go so far as to forbid the ac
ceptance of a momentary shelter when
it offers itself under such circumstances.
ne, therefore, went into the house
and sat down .beside the firo which
crackled on the hearth. The man who
had invited him to enter threw upon it
some dry branches, which were soon in
flames; a heavy vapor arose from Mar
tin's soaked garments.
The stranger interrogated the post
man as to the hours of the departure
of the mails, and asked him a host of
questions about himself, his service and
everything concerning it.
" You ki ow me then?" said the post
man.
Farbl'iu! Everybody loves and
esteems you here ; Pere Martin's value
is well known. I hope you will not re
fuse to drink with me. Ho I Madam
Rosier, two glasses of your best
brandy."
A woman waited on them and re
turned to her occupation.
" What a dog's trade you follow, Pere
Martin !" said the man. " Will it take
you much longer to finish your round ?
You doubtless have yet to go to the
Landa Grise, to Plessis. I know some
one who is impatiently waiting for you
there. I am obliged to pass in the
vicinity. If you wish it I will- relieve
you of your letters."
" Thank you ; I will deliver them my
self."
That's yourself out and out. After
all you are right. It is your duty to
deliver them."
While talking with a loquacity which
did not encourage the postman he took
ud the saok the latter had placed beside
him, seemed to feel its weight and
turned it over und over.
" Let my sack alone, please," said
Martin, coldly. "You nave disar
ranged all my letters. I shall no longer
know what to do.
The other humbly excused himself
for his awkwardness.
" The evil is reparable," added he.
" Seat yourself at this table, and you
will have no trouble to arrange the let
ters according to the route you should
take."
The postman emptied his sack before
him, and began to arrange his letters.
His questioner affected to keep dis
creetly at a distance, but found an op-
Eortunity to cast a furtive glance over
is shoulder.
Whila Martin was busy with his
work he heard furious growls behind
him.
"Pere Martin, help me to prevent
your dog from strangling mine," said
his new acquaintance.
The postman arose and caught his
dog by the skin of the neck. The ani
mal's fury contrasted with its habitual
gentleness.
This fact seemed strange to Martin.
He felt distrust ot the communicative
stranger grow .up him. He was
about to replaoe hid papers in the sack
when the man, as if to see what was
the state of the weather, opened tho
door.
At the same instant tho wind swept
impetuously into the room, which it
filled with a thick smoke, and lifting
the letters spread out upon the table
scattered them in every direction.
The postman uttered an exclamation
of anger.
"Bah I it is nothing," said the person
who had caused the accident. "We
two will speedily gather them up."
And without heeding the refusal of
Martin, who wished to avoid his help
and do the work alone, he began to
search for the letters.
When they had collected all they
could find the postman carefully ex
amined them ; then he seemed worried,
as if he had not the full number.
"Are any missing?" asked his com
panion. "It appears to me that there was
another letter."
"Bah I either you are deceived or
you forgot it at th&T fistoffice."
" That is quite " jsible."
He said to hims if that it must be so.
Howver he resumed his hunt and
searched beneath the furniture. He
found nothing and concluded that his
memory had not served him faithfully,
for he watched his companion's move
ments and it did not seem admissible to
him that he had stolen a letter. Never-
theless he hastened to depart, regret
ting mat tie Had entered the drinking
house. The man who had chatted with
him inspired in him a veritable repul
sion, and it wan his rule, because of the
habits of discretion which tho postofflce
imposes upon all its agents, to keep at
a distance all who do not appear to him
worthy of confidence.
The storm had somewhat abated -its
fury, the rain soon ceased to fall and
bright sunshine lighted np the country
when the postman reached the nearest
village.
A woman was at the door of her house
awaiting his passage. She was still
young and, without possessing remark
able beauty, had a neat and sympa
thetic countenance.
"Monsieur Martin," said she to the
dostman, " have you a letter for me ?"
" No, Madam Andre, I have not."
" That's 6trange; my husband should
have written to me to-day; you cannot
imagine how much his silence troubles
ine."
She grew pale and seemed scarcely to
have the strength to sustain herself.
The postman assisted her into the
house and handed her a chair upon
which she let herself fall. Two charm
ing children fixed on her sad and anx
ious looks.
"You will receive a letter tomorrow,
Madam Andre," said Pere Martin; "the
delay of a day is easily explained: your
husband was disappointed, some unfore
seen business suddenly demanded his
attention and he missed the mail."
No; I know him and cannot under
stand his silence. You are aware that
he departed, two months ago for the
city.-1 Som ol wa8jj84,b.ettall
wuicu prumiauu iu unng mm in a great
deal of money; a small inheritance was
to be received. .But all is concluded.
He sent me word that he would return
this evening; he had made his arrange
ments to that end. To-morrow the farm
of La Mano is to be sold; he has decided
to purchase either all or part of it.
It is an opportunity which wilr never
again present itself, but I would prefer
a thousand times that he should miss it
to having him return without notifying
me.
' Why ?"
" Because 6omo one has wicked de
signs against lim and at night a ter
rible blow is Boon struck. You know
there are two routes by which to return
here ; one is longer than the other, but
safer. I am afraid lest he may return
by way of the Moulin-Brule, the more
so as there is some one to sea in that
direction. I tremble at the mere
thought of it. If I only knew "
The postman strove to calm her fears.
but she shook her head.
"You cannot think," resumed she,
" what certain men are capable of when
they have a grudge against anybody."
Sho seemed to hesitate, and then
added :
- "If I tremble it is not simply be
cause my husband will have t i pass
tmougn a dangerous spot with money
in his pocket, but because there is in
the district a wretch whose dearest wish
is to put five feet of earth between
them.
"This hatred dates from long ago.
When I was a young girl he wanted to
marry me, but he failed me with horror.
He has never pardoned me for having
repulsed his offers, and has enveloped
in the same animosity the man I pre
ferred to him. ' Ho hates Qeorgcs and
myself for being ia easy circumstances
while he vegetates in want, as if honest
people were responsible for the mis
takes of idlers and drunkards. This is
not all. A crime was recently com
mitted ; suspicions were aroused, but
the proofs were wanting. I possess
them, and tho guilty man knows it. Ah!
it is a dangerous secret for a woman
who has only children around her."
" Yesterday he accosted me to sound
me; I did not hide from him my con
tempt. He saw clearly that he was un
masked in my eyes; he overwnelmed
me with inralts ard threats. I took
the unfortunate notion to say to him
that soon, when my husband had re
turned, when he had a man before him,
ho would be lees presumptuous. Oh I
if you knew what glances his eyes shot
at me, what an expression of hatred his
features wore ! I know that often dur
ing the night he haunts the ruins of the
Moulin-Brule. If this man should dis
cover that Eiy husband is to pass
through that place, I tell you, Monsieur
Martin, he is lost !"
" What is the scoundrel's name ?"
"Jean Bruno. It is not astonishing
that you are unacquainted with him, for
since his return to the district be has
not pub.'icly shown himself."
The postman was silent. He remem
bered having heard the woman at the
drinking-house call the man he had met
there by that name. He asked himself
in consternation if the letter had not
been stolen from him, but be recalled
all the circumstances and banished this
supposition. He felt certain that the
epistle had not been in his sack; he re
assured himself and sought to reassure
the woman, yet he resolved to await
her husband's arrival at the chief town
of the district to advise him to be
prudent.
He hastened away and when he was
alone his fears regained possession of
him. He again began to doubt and
little by little was seized upon by a
terror he could not explain. He in
creased his pace and leaped over the
hedges and ditches with unusual nim
blenesa. Unfortunately, his round that
day was exceptionally long, and the bad
weather in addition had considerably
delayed him.
He reached the postofflce a little
later than was his custom. The woman
who distributed the mails on being
consulted by him affirmed that he had
taken away a letter for Madam Andre.
One of her assistants confirmed this
declaration.
The postman was thunderstruck. He
saw with fright the heavy responsibility
thrown upon him. His terrors aug
mented when he remembered that time
and again, at the moment of opening
the mail bags, a man had presented him
self, asking if there was anything for
Madam Andre !
He flew rather than ran to the office
of the coach which carried passengers
from the nearest station on the railway
to the chief town. Georges Andre had
arrived, but had set out immediately on
foot for his village.
This news gave Martin a violent
shock. The prospect of a catastrophe
for which he would be responsible
arose before him. He saw this man,
who had returned with joy in his heart,
encountering death at the threshold of
his home through his fault, and misfor
tune overtaking the widow and the
orphans. The darkest clouds troubled
his imagination.
He did not hesitate, and, without
taking time to enter his dwelling, started
off again. Those who saw him pass,
absorbed in his thoughts ' and noticing
no one around him, asked themselves
what grave affair could have caused this
breathless' baste on the part of a man
who must have come buck trom his
round broken by fatigue.
After having passed over a fourth of
the distance he inquired concerning the
traveler and asked it he had been seen.
He had gone bv somo time before.
The joy of return had given winsrs to
his .feet. asJtb.e-tho.ught .of a misfortune
to be averted hfld. increased the speed
of the postman. There' was no longer
even the shadow of a doubt ; tho fated
man had taken the path which led
straight to tho Moulin-Brule. Pere
Martin calculated that by passing over
another path, which, however, was
rough and dangerous, he could yet ar
rive before him.
He hastened on and reached the fatal
spot when the night was already ad
vanced. The place was well fitted for
an ambuscade. There was a species of
cut through the rocks. On both sides
bushy trees formed an almost impene
trable shade ; rapidly moving clouds at
each instant veiled the moon, the wan
rays of which added to the sinister
character of the landscape.
lie paused; amid the mailing of the
foliage agitated by tho wind he thonght
he heard the sound of approaching
tootsteps; it was, doubtless, George
Andre, whom he had preceded onlv bv
a few instants; he was about going to
meet him when the report of a gun
rang out and a ball struck him full in
the breast.
Tho assassin emerged from a neigh
boring thicket; but on approaching his
victim to finish and rob him he found
himself in the presence of a new actor
and vented his disappointment in a hor
rible oath; he had recognized George
Andre. The blade of a knife flashed
in his hand, but he was not allowed
time to use it a club descended vigor
ously upon his head and felled him to
the ground.
A woman, distracted with terror, at
this moment threw herself on the post
man's body.
"Oh! how wretched I am !" cried she.
" I foresaw it; he has killed him I"
Madam Andre had not been able to
subdue her uneasiness and, at the hour
she supposed her husband ought to ar
rive, she had come to wait for him; at
the report of the gun, she had run for
ward precipitately.
" Jeanne," said her husband to her,
" reassure yourself; I am unhurt t"
" It was not you ? Who then has he
assassinated ?"
They bent over Martin's body, and
recognized him in the moonlight which
at that instant illuminated his face and
uniform.
The husband and wife carried him to
their home, where he lived only twenty
four hours. He related how he had
allowed to be stolen from him the letter
in which Georges Andre had announced
his return, and how he had decided to
prevent, at any price, the consequences
of his negligence, even if he should be
compelled to offer his life in exchange
for that of the factor of a family whom
he had involuntarily helped to place in
peril.
Obscure victim of duty, he had added
another act to the list of those unknown
sacrifices which re made daily ..without
being encouraged iy the hope of any
recompense, without even having for
indemnification the remembrance they
should leave behind him.
The Cost or Living.
The cost of living, says the Chicago
Tribune, has greatly increased during
the past twelve months, and this will
fall most heavy on the poor people.
The 1'ribuna makes up the following
table of the increase in the price in the
wholesale markets of that city:
Ter cent of
increase.
Pork 7
Lard 82
Bibs 24
Hogs 30
Wheat. 40
Corn 68
Oats SO
Itye 28
Barley 46
Flour 40
Butter liyt
Ter cent, of
increase.
Cheese 4
EgK 21
Potatoes 119
Apples 100
Huar 100
Hay 9
Lumber H
O'&l 15
White fish 22
Corn meal , ., 00
Or an average of thirty-four per nt.
The Work of Years Spoiled by Rats.
liats are destructive wretches, and
they have seldom used their powers as
effectively as they did in the case of
poor Thomas Edwards' collection of
insects. There are very few cases on
record of such untiring patience and
unwearied search as that displayed by
the unlettered Scotch naturalist. The
story of his many collections, the diffi
culties under which he made them, the
courage and perseverance that enabled
him to bear np under them, is more like
imaginative romance than reality.
Among the different collections was one
of insects. He had carefully pinned them
down in boxes, and laid them away,
until by dint of endless labor and writ
ing to other naturalists for information
he should be able to catalogue them
correctly; if he was too poor to buy the
sheets of figures necessary for his pur
pose and could not print, he got a lot
of old almanacs and multiplication
tables and cut the numbers out. It was
a long and tedious process, and when it
was at last completed the naturalist pro
ceeded to the garret where he had
stored the insects af tor preparing them.
There were twenty boxes, containing in
all 916 specimens. CJn lifting np the
first case be found that it had been en
tirely stripped of its contents. Horri
fied he tried the others. All were
empty; they contained nothing but the
pins that had secured them, and there
a leg or wing. The rats had done their
work ! His wife, seeing the empty
cases, asked what he would do next ?
Weel !" said he, it's an awful disap
pointment, but I think the best thing
will be to set to work and fill them
again !" The work thus destroyed had
occupied four entire years.
It will be remembered that Audubon
had a somewhat similar experience with
rats. Upon leaving Kentucky he
placed his drawings of more than a
.thousand insects in the care of a friend,
to find upon hi returns, after a few
months that a ptur'of Norway rats had
entered upon possession and gnawed
his precious drawings into bits of use
less paper. He, like Edwards, un
daunted by his loss, set off on fresh ex
peditions, and in three years had refilled
his portfolio.
Wheat and Corn Crops.
The wheat and corn crops for 1881
are given in a summary published by
liraastrest s, of JNew zorn. A recapitu
lation of the returns shows a total
amcunt of yields of wheat in 1881 as
follows:
Bushels.
Western States 248,137,000
Pacific coast 333,25,000
Colorado and Territories 12,000,000
New England 1 000,000
Middlo Mates SljSOO.OOO
Southern States 40,000,000
Total 368,9G2,0U
This is against 480,000,000 bushels in
1880, showing a loss of 111,038,000
bushels.
Returns of the corn crop are less
favorable than those of wheat. Sum
marized the corn crop of 1881 is as fol
lows:
Jlashels.
Western 8tates 860,211,000
Southorn States 247,500,000
Middlo States 02,400,000
Now England States , 7,000,000
Pacific coast 2,500,000
Territories 5,000,0J0
Total 1,193,041,000
The Southern States suffered largely
from the drought, and ths corn crop in
Kentucky reaches only 40,500,600 in
1S81 against 86,039,000 in 1860. Ten
nessee reports a shortage of forty-eight
per cent. Virginia and Texas forty per
cent. and nearly the same for West
Virginia. Altogether tho corn crop of
the United States of 1C1 is short about
one-third of a usual yield.
Coffee Taverns.
An English lady writes that coffee
taverns are not only great promoters of
temperance, but also pay their way as
investment. One of tho best coffee tav
erns is in a town in Hertfordshire. The
window is painted half-way up, show
ing the words "Coffee Tavern," and
above hangs a small sign telling that
lodging can be had, and nice, neat rooms
they are, with pretty frilled muslin cur
tains, fit for a lady's boudoir.
The large shop ia fitted np with coun
ters for the huge tea and coffee urns;
small tables are dotted about, as in a
foreign restaurant, and at the side there
is a large table given up to newspapers
and magazines; in the bar parlor thero
is a bagatelle board.
If properly managed, the experience
of most of those who have established
coffee taverns over the country is, that
they are not only fielf-supporting, but
remunerative; and to bring this about
the eatables and drinkables must be of
the best, and the place rendered as at
tractive as possible. Such establish
ments are calculated to improve, raise
and refine the general character of the
people. A breakfast cup of tea or coffee
is sold at the rate of two cents, and a
slice of bread and bntter for one cnt.
The cheap coffee restaurants here charge
five cents, and the stuff is anything but
inviting; the places, too, are dingy and
miserable-looking.
Lt the temperance people get Op a
company to establish coffee taverns
such as they have in England, and not
only will they advance the temperance
cause, but also obtain a good dividend
on the investment.
If a boy gets on the WTong " track"
it shows that his father's " switch" has
not had a fair chance.
isever interrupt any conversation with a hack
ing Co igh; it creates a bad impression, Bcttei
luvcfct a quarter of a dollar ia a bottle of Di
liull's Cyugh eyrup aad cart it.
Aii Unexpected Else.
I stood on the porch at evening,
hoa the s m won', silently do-rn,
And the June bug bright in the starry night
Flew merrily through the town.
h, swoet were the ko title xephyrn
That blow from the balmy South,
And red were the lips and sweet tli
That I took from the pretty mout ,
Her tiny waist was encircled
By my arm so strong and trnt.
Said I, ".Whose ducky are you, love "
"Yours," she murmured, "and whose nr
Oh, tho hallowed hours of that evenii g 1
Oh, the cruel caprice of fatojl
Ilcr father, unkind, came up from beLina,
And fired me over the gate. ,
Chicago Tribune,
HUMOR OF THE DAY.
The artist's adieu to his picture Yo
be hanged.
A fool in high station is like a man ia
a balloon. Everybody appears littlo to
him, and he appears little to everybody.
" Old age is coming upon me rapid
ly,", said an nrchin, who was stealing
apple 8 from an old man's garden, as ha
saw the owner coming furiously toward
him with a stick in his hand.
Johnny had a little sister who was
suffering with tho toothache, and her
mother put some camphor ia it to e ne
the pain. The young man watched the
operation and then went out and to'd
the neighbors that his sister had moth
in her teoth and his mother put camphor
in her mouth to drive 'em away. Sku
lenrille Herald.
His name was Presto Magico, and he
was giving his great entertainment in a
small village. " Will any one' in the
audience let me havo a five-dollar
note?" he asked, with his blandest
smile. The entertainment ended ab
ruptly, as the audience roso and left
with precipitate haste. It was more
than they pould stand. Philadelphia
Sun.
The life of a queen is supposed to be
one long summer day, breathing the
fragrance of swaet peace and content
ment, without a cloud to mar the suc
shino, and so forth. There never was a
greater error. The London World says
that a " Scotch piper plays under Queen
Victoria's window every morning at 8
o'clock." How tho fiend manages to
escape after each serenade is a mystery.
Norristmen Herald
A Shocking Story.
The Si. Jameit Gazette recounts the
particulars of a shocking crime hich
:. as committed recently at a monastery
near the forest of Vranyo-Selo, in Hun
gary. This monastery, which was in
habited by eight monks who were be
lieved fb bo very wealthy, was attacked
by a band of brigand?, but an alarm
Laving been given, a body of soldiers
came to the rescue The brigands en
deavored to barricade themselves in the
monastery, and exchanged sevoral shots
with the soldiers, who were moro than
an hour before they could force an en
trance When they did get in they
found the monks lying gagged on the
floor, but could find no trace of the
brigands. After the monks had been
set at liberty they informed their de
liverers that the brigands had escaped
by an underground passage leading from
the cellar into the forest. The soldiers
at once searched for the pav age, while
the monks went off to the.chapo to give
thanks for their delivery. The soldiery
having explored tho cellar, and having
failed to find the door of tho passage,
came back to ask one of the monks to act
as their guide; but they were nowhere
to be seen. In the course of further in
vestigations, however, they found the
dead bodies of the eight monks in a
small room, and the mystery was then
solved. The brigands, seeing that they
could not escape, had murdered the
monks and hidden their bodies in this
room, having first stripped them of their
clothes and put them on themselves.
They then gagged one another to de
ceive the soldiers, and while the latter
were searching in the cellar Lad mace
off to their fastnesses in tho foreet.
Duration of Life.
Baron G. F. Kolb, a German statist:'
cian, has recently published the result h
of his researches npon the duration of
Iff e in countries where records of this
character aro kept with some approach
to accuracy. His figures show conclu
sively that every advance in healthful
and profitable labor, in morality and in
useful knowledge, increases the lon
gevity of the people. Baron Kolb gives
statistics which are startling in the
enormous difference ot the mortality
rates they disclose; for they show that
while among infants suckled by their
mothers 18.2 per cent, die during the
nvst year, no fewer than eignty per
cent, die among those brought up in in
stitutions. Tho influence of the anxiety
of providing for b re subsistence is a
potent factor in shortening the lives of
the laboring classes, for tho baron finds
that, taking a thousand well-to-do per
sons and the same number of poor per
sons, athe end of five years there will
remain of the prosperous 943, of tha
poor only 655, a difference which goes
on increasing, until at the end of seventy
years the numbers will be respectively
234 and sixty-live. The average dura
tion of life among the prosperous he
f utsat fifty years; of tho poor at thirty,
wo years
Bituminous coal is produced in 27
counties in Pennsylvania, and the' etti
mute out put of lbtfl is ovtr 25,000.0'.
tons,