THE FOREST EEFDBLICAR la pubMicd avorj Wetfnrsrlay, by 1 J C. WSMK. OiHce in Smearbueh & Co. Building ELM 6TKEKT, 'TONI-STA, fa. RATES OF ADVERTISING. Ore Sinr, oi h.cli, one In-ertlon. ..1 1 " On Sqimre, one Inrh, one month I OH On Kn'iare, one Inrh, three ntunthi. (.'no S.pinrc", one Inch, oiie year Ifl CO Two .qnnrr, one year...... 18 (jimrter Column, one 5 car.. Ila:f Column, one year 60 00 One Column, one year .......loo l.ecal advertisements ten cents 1 nr Hoc eactt in ertion. Marrlape and death notice) Brail. All bill) for yearly advertisement! eolterted qtmr. Irrly. Temporary advertisement mnat b pniil In idruoce. Job work cash on delivery. 0 Trm, ... .eo per Year. TS'n imViccrlptlnni received for shorter period thin thro mnntha. C'orrinpnniipnre rollcfted from all parts of the riMintry. No noilce will be taken of anonymous "oimiiunlcations. VOL, XIX. NO. 32. TIONESTA. PA, WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 1, 1886. $1 50 PER ANNUM '-Mtntm P At tho present inomont, so says an English paper, fortune telling is one of the most flourishing systems of impos ture in that country, and thero is scarce ly a town or vitiligo without its resident or visiting cheat of this description. Patagonia has been obliterated from (he map of South Amoricr. To Chili lms been assigned all tho western slopo of the Cordilleras to the southern ex tremity of tho Continont. Tho remainder becomes tho property of tho Argentine Confederation. Terra del Fucgo is parted equally, while Chili takes all the othor islands. James Tucker (colored) of Sandystono, Sussex County, has tho distinction of being tho most extonsive producer of eggs in New Jersey. His poultry yards contain 500 hens of the white Leghorn breed, and from the e he obtains thirty docu eggs a day. Mr. Tucker has been so successful in poultry raising that his methods aro being widely adopted, and ho 13 quoted us authority on questions relating to the business. A tea ship that recently arrived at Tortland, Oregon, hud on board a very poculiar bird, called tho Japanese tum bler. It has a habit of jumping from its porch, turning a somersault, and com ing down on tho perch all standing, and this trkk it will perform dozens of times in succession, till beholders deem the bird demented. It is considerably larger than a canary, and of rather pret ty plumage, but not much in the musi cal lino, Thero is real English thrift indicated in a recent tale from Cheltenham, which is a very enlightened town, especially noted for its mnny excellent schools. And yot the whole town is worked up over the alleged appearance of an old I lady 8 ghost who wants, to show some body where she buried 500 before the died. Tho municipal authorities, undet tho advico of the ghost, have offered 50 to any one who will find tho treasure; and regular ','gho.?t trains'' are run in from the suburbs for. tho convenience ol those who waufc to see the old lady's shade, A Spanish shepherd killed by light ning recently was mado the subject of a scientific post mortem to discover how the electric bolt had done its fatal work. His eyebrows and eyelashes were burned off, his eyeballs were dried up, all his left side was scorched and burned in spots down to the tinkle, while tho right biilo of tho body and right leg were unin jured. Serious as these injuries were, none of thoru appeared sufficient to have caused his instant death. But as soon ns tho breast wa3 opened the cause of death was apparent. Tho lungs were frightfully congested and the heart was enormously dilated and filled with coagulated blood. With all this damage to tho man his clothing was very little injured, tho only traces of tho lightning upon it being a small" hole bored through the rim of the hat and a slight singeing of the shirt collar. ' A representation of Marshal Bazaine as a fctage villain has nearly caused a riot in Paris. What long memories those Pa risians hi vol If Marshal Bazaine had been an American, says the New York Graphic, he might have created and lost a dozen governments and been forgotten in five years. The Mexican "expedi tion," on which tho play is founded, has lr.oro of rouianco in it than anything else in tho continental or international poli tics of the last thirty years It has ma terial for an excellent play. It has not been half written up for books. There was never a more interesting charactor than Maximilian, the only imported Em peror that Mexico lias had; and the heroism attending his execution has not been half celebrated. His wife, Carlotta, Btill lives in one of the sequestered estab lishments of the llapsburgs, hopelessly insane. The Princess Salm-Snlm, origi nally a circus-rider, was one of the most , bs illiunt members of tho Court at t'eretaro. Tho misfortunes ol the lust Napoleon as a ruler began in Mexico, to bo ended at Sedan. Marshul Ba.uiae led the French force that were to establish a French foothold in Mexico. Ilia Emperor was exiled. Maximilian was shot. The Prince Impe rial died with a spear in his side in the country of tho Zulus. Of that imperial establishment only Eugenie remains, heart sure and old. The only victory of Murshal Bazaine in Mexico was wiuning a young Mexican woman, who accompa nied him to France as his bride. In the war with Germany tbntfoliowed tho loss of Mexico, the death of Maximilian and the end of our Civil War, the Marshal was hopelessly disgraced for military in capacity and sentenced to confinement for a term of years. The Mexican lad helped him to escape, and since then lie Las passed out of tVc. memory aud iuter 1st of this busy world. THANKSOIVINO. Thanks, for the year's brave bounties; Thanks, for the joys of life; Thanks, for our nation's glory; Thanks, for the death of strife. Thanks, that the roar of battle Comes only from afar; Thaaks, that the love of freedom StiU leads men like a star. Thanks, that the world Is better; That the future seems so bright; 'Hint the strength of an age of reason Is teaching men the right CAPE ANN LIGHTS. A THANKSGIVING STORY. Chenoweth farm lies closo beside the Bea. Tne meadows and tho paturc-lands are ba k a bit, sheltered fom the keen cast wiuds by the rise of rocks near tho. coast; but tho farmhouse, built of rough hewn stone, a hundred and fifty years ago, by the rough, strong hands of Gard ner Chenoweth himself, stands in a nook formed by a whim of the sea's own a dent in the laud where the waters rush in and out at the bidding of tho moon now surging and roaring, and creeping and crashing, over and between the great irregular piles of granite boulders; now curling and foaming and dimpling on sweet summer days away up to tho orchard-walls, and licking with its strong salt lips tho low fields where, in the hot weather, tho cattle love to stand up to their middles in tae eool water. Dorothy Chenoweth has listened to the roar and sob of the breakers on the Capo Ann coat a,U of her life. She has watched the storms of twenty winters come looming grayly up from the east; and fcho has seen twenty years of suns rise up to meet her glad young eyes from far and away across the heaven-kissing line of the Atlantic, She hn learned to love tho changeful moods of the "great waters'' to love, too, and almost to live by, the varyings of tho deep. Dave Chenoweth, Dorothy's father, is master of ono of the largest of the Glou cester fishing smacks, and the farm is managed by her brother Joe. Dorothy is housekeeper, and takes charge of the dairy and tho p ml try. Bnd sends into Gloucester of a market-day the sweetest tubs of butter, and the whitest cream cheese and the largest eggs of any one round about the country. And Dorothy a strong, straight, tall girl, with largo brown eyes, and braids of brown hair, and red sweet lips mak ing tho one touch of vivid color in her pale, round face Dorothy has a lover. Indeed the has many, but Jack Kendal so the neighbors have it has made his mark on Dorothy's heart. Ho is a big, splendid, fair fellow, sun shine in his blue bright eyes, and sun shine in his curly golden head. Jack is mato of 1 avo Chenoweth's boat, tho Susan Jane, and besides owing a very good bit rf land inland, already has enough hid by in the bank at Gloucester to fit out a boat of h i own with next year. Jack had been courting Dorothy Chenoweth for over a year people said they were engaged when, one day in July Jack and her father were busy mending their sails on the porch and Joe was oil linying it came out that it fell to Dorothy herself to take the butter and the cheeses and the eggs into town. "Hey, r-is!" called Davo Chenoweth to his daughter, as she was starting off In tho old farm-wagon, her dark eyes shining under her pink sunbonnet. "Yes, father!' answered she, pulling up the gray mare with a nervous jerk. "Stop to Squire Kcdlon's as you g'long; Mis' Red 'on told me as she'd be a-wantin' butter an' eggs, come along 'bout now moro'n they hed of ttheir own. Fred's got home, an' there's lots o' company over yon." "Very well, father." Dorothy drove away, glancing back with similing eyes to Jack, mending his nets on thi porch: she did not forget to stop at ? quire l.cdlon's. Mrs. Redlon suit word by tho cook that she would take all the eggs and a dozen cheeses; and as Dorothy Cheno weth, with her firm, brown hands, un wrapped the white cheeses from the linen cloth, nod ret them on the big platter Mis, Kcdlon's cook held up to her at the wagon-side, Mrs. Kedlon's son came around to the back of the house, looking for his fishing tackle. He did not tine it. He found Dorothy Chenoweth iuste id. It seemed to him that he had never before seen anything so beautiful. It seemed to him that lie must have been unconsciously seeking, in all the far forcinn lands that he had lived in for so ma'iy years, for just this tall, slight, strong young woman sitting there before him in a slip of summer sunshine, with a dismal brown frock and a terrible pink sun-bonnet. It was only tho beginning of July, but Jack Kendal's summer ended .that soft, warm day. He knew it felt it could swear that the winter's cold was gnawing at his heartstrings, as, eagerly watching for Dorothy, he at last saw her drive slowly down the lane. Fred Redlon was fitting beside her. Both were talking so interestedly that neither of tlietn noticed him leaning on the mossy wall, or saw that the lamps were already lighted in the lighthouse. Dorothy always had supper on the table junt as the lights were lighted, but to-night she had, alas! forgotten alto gether about siippei. l-'ru 1 hail cuine to the farm to see Davo, to ta!k over his old childish days, when I ave Chenoweth was only a second male himself, ami not married yer, and when Fred Kodlon loved to sit on his knee and listen to stories of the Glotjf es ter pales and the bonny fisherman's life he imidu of it. So the duiiier ended for .fact. And so it began. for Lpr'othy, What new worlds Fred opened" to her! what books he brought her to rend! what longing and cravings were born in her girlish liTraH! And ihn long walks on tho rocky heath, where hand touched hand in mute, grow ing acquaintanceship; and the twilight wanderings all across the Cape, throiding tho narrow sheep tracks, and stopping to pull the wild flowers as they went. Ami the home comings when the stars were out, and all tho meadows shone with dew; when the sea lay looked in calm, melting into the great quiet of tho summer sky, and when the Capo Ann Lights shone out in splen dor yonder on Thatcher's lonely island. Those lights always mado Dorothy re member Jack. She knew not why, but in some sorry fashion they did. The lights were there for fishermen, Jack was a fisherman, and it always seemed to her as if in some inscrutable way they were bidding her not forget Jack Ken dal. Sho glanced over to the face of the man who, at the lane-gate, stood now looking into her eyes. . It was the face of an artist, a poet, a dreamer one or those men who mor their lives through trying to make of them too much. The splendid black eyes, bespeaking his Spanish, mother, were far handsomer than her own; the delicate dilated nostrils, the thin selfish lips, the low stature and the beautiful white womanish hands. Dorothy sighed a sigh of curious con tent and discontent This man, she felt, iillod a certain part of her future full. And yet and yet . She raised her eyes to the sea. There pointed the great gray finger, there shone the lights; and she heard Jack Kendal whistling softly to himself at the barn, where he was help ing Joe put up tho horse and feed the lambs. - It was November. The Susan Jane had already been out and up to the Banks once and back again with, a load. As Jack Kendal ncared Gloucester Har bor, the strain was almost too much for him. Would ho have gone to Boston f Surely, yes. Would Bhe be glad to see him, or would she only be thinking of tho Summer lover, whoso effeminate beauty Jack, in his big soul secretly despised 1 Ho left Dave Chenoweth pottering about the Susan Jane, chaffering with fish-merchants, and swiftly pulled him self in a boat around the bend in by the cove, and in front of the farmhouse. Jack stood up in the boat. For five years Dorothy had always boen standing, after every trip, on that tall, square boulder, waving her handkerchief to him. Then the light spring from her perch, a run down the strip of beach across the marshy meadows, along the little pier, and her hand lay in his. Not to-day. Instead, he descried Fred Rcdlon's horse tied to the gate-post, and two figures of a height pacing up and down the porch. Jack sat down. Ho pickod up his oars, and clinching his teeth together, pulled back against the tide to Gloucester and the Susan Jane. It would be time enough to reach Chenoweth Farm when Dave himself went over, so he thought. "What a perfect night!" Itedlon ex claimed, looking out to the starry sky. "There's a storm brewing, for all those stars, though," Dorothy answers, more weatherwiso than her companion. "See yonder red light in the west, and all that bank of billowy clouds. We shall catch a gale to-morrow' or I am mistaken. I wish father were safe at home." Derothy shades her eyes with her hand, just in time to catch a glimpse of Jack Kendal as ho rounds the point. "There be Jack now "' cries she. "The Susan Jane must bo in, and father will be home lor Thanksgiving, after all!" The girl's face flushes with pleasure and excitouicnt as she claps her hands to gether. "I wonder what Jack's pulling oif to Gloucester for 1" she adds, pres ently. "Perhaps he caught sight of me and took fright!" Hedlon says, stroking his dark mustache. "Took fright from you ! Jack? You're too little!" the girl says, purposely misunderstanding him, and with a cer tain scorn of smtill things and small men implied in her curling red lips. Itedlon laughs. "So long, Dorothy, as I am big oucugh to have cut him out of your heart, my size will suit mo well enough." "Andhavo you! "sho asks stopping short, and staring at him with her wide, lovely eyes. 'Haven't I?" cries the young fellow, Eassionately taking her brown hands in is soft white ones. "Dorothy, if I thought you weren't to be mine, I'd ' "Well, what?-what?" "I don't know, he responds, Bullenly. "You torture mo to-night. Why is it that sometimes you make me feel that I am in your eyes lacking? Heavens!" cries he, angrily. "You aro the only woman on earth who ever did make me feel so. Why is it?" "Do vou want to know? " she atks. "Yes" I do! Tell me!" "Do you see the sea yonder, and the storm brewing? when the great waves '11 be mountains high, and when the wind '11 howl, and when the clouds are like they're bu-tin' with the tumble of the fresh water as comes a-peltin' down to meet the salt! Well, there's where you're lackin. You've crossed tho ocean aboard of a steamer, five times as you tell me, a-lyin' iu a berth as snug as your own room at homo there, and as snfe; but what do you know of vinkin' your life for your bre;id," cries Dorothy, as her brown eyes gleam, "in a storm, say, like that one" that is a-creupiu' up over yon? .c. thing" iu-.Uoii lo iks at her. and his own poetic nature borrows tomething of the feivent Hash of hers. "Dorothy!" cries ho. catching the tall girl to his heart. ' I'll, bj worthjsi of you. It may notlo for bread's Bake, my darling, but it will be lor yours." "What do you mean, Fred? what do you mcsn'f" 'Pshaw!" laughs Redlon. ' I must be off now. Tho storm is gathering. Tell your father welcome homo for me, and I'll be over to morrow night." "Thanksgiving Night," routmurs tho girl, as she lays a timid finger in the white hand of her lover. The f-torm did gather, and by the next morning it broke in awful splaudor up and down the coast. The qove crept up and licked all the green out of the marsh meadows, and sunt the cattle shivering inland ; and the waves crashed over the boulders, cracked and smote the reefs, turned the pier into a whirlpool, nnd moaned the requiem of all its wrecks. The dahlias and asters in the garden were all broken necked, and the long gra-s was beaten fiat; and the birds' nest tumbled out of thi shaken trees, and a swirl of red and brown leaves blew and beat all day long against the window panes where Dorothy worked away, sing; ing, in the kitchen. What if it did storm, lne Susan jane was safe in Gloucester harbor, and her f ather and Jack and Joe were all sthome, and it was Thanksgiving Day to-night wonld be Thanksgiving Night; and Dorothy had, In a certain vagtie fashioa, promised herself that Thanksgiving Night must bring her affairs to a crisis that there and then she must decide finally to allow Fred Redlon to tell her father of all that there was between them. The three men stood warming their chilled fingers at the kitchen stove, when Dorothy, with the basting-spoon in her hand, ran over to the east window to take a peep at the storm. "It be a terrible night!" the girl says, holding her hands up to see the better. "Guess it be; and 'twill be worse," Dave Chenoweth has scarcely time to answer, when Dorothy cries out: "Father! father! there's a boat out yon ? a small boat. Look ! look I" She pushes up the sash and leans out Into the night, tho men crowding around her. It's bottom upf" cries Dorothy; "and there's something some one a-top of it!" . "Git my glass, Sis!" Dorothy handed it him, and Dave Chenoweth's rough face pales as he, looks. "Who is it, father? Can you make out?" "It's Fred Redlon, Sis. Now I re mem her, when I met him, this morning, he said as how he'd be down to-night, and as he was a-coming in a boat. Of course I laughed thought he was a jokin'. Fred's allers fondjof his joke." Dorothy put her hand to her head, she turns, sickened, away; her eyes met Jack's eyes fastened upon her face. He touches her a little roughly on the shoul der. . "Dorothy," he says, hoarsely, "there ain' much time to lose. Shall I try to save him for you?" "Save him save himi" answers she, wildly. " Yes, yes ; it's my fault, his be ing out yon at all my fault! Hurry, hurry, Jackl Come, Joe father 1 Jack's a going to save him !" Jack doesn't flinch nor hesitate a sec ond; he, pays slight heed to Joe's re monstrances, or to Dave Chenoweth's oaths. In five minutes he has a boat out on the shrieking waves of the inlet, and with one catch at Dorothy's hand with his as she helps her father and brother push off the craft, Jack Kendal is pulling for his life and the other's with a despera tion known only to such heroic natures as his. They watch the three from the shore. Now they can see the frail shell; now they cannot. This moment a living speck upon the top of tho waters, leaping to meet and reach that other speck a mile and more away from it; the next, both lost to sight in the great gray gulf. It did not take long not so long as it takes me to tell it before Jack Kendal, making one last long lunge with hia boat, holding his right oar with his strong white teeth, caught the living, breathing body of Redlon in bis arm and lifted it in beside him. Dorothy fell on her knees on the sand, clutching with tense fingers at the spray dashed rocks by which she crouched. Looking up, she saw tho Cape Ann Lights, and then, with a great awful sob and a rush of long pent-up tears, sho remembered Jack Kendal. Through all tho next fateful moments sho thought only of him-saw only, in her mind, his blue eyes, his sunny head, as the speck upon the waste of waters dashed nearer, nearer nay, now Joe and his father, reaching strong arms, caught at the boat's edge and hauled it, Dorothy help ing, up the sands. The three men they were not wordy people carried Redlon quickly into the farmhouse-kitchen and laid him on the old hair-cloth sofa. They gave him stim ulants, put dry clothes on him, und finally whispered that ho was "all right," and sat down to eat. At last Dave Che noweth and his son tat down. Jack Kendal stood by the window; he had refused to take anything, or to dry his clothes or change them; and Doro thy tat on a stool by the sofa, gazing at the sleeping man's pallid face. Jack turned away from the window. The two men were talking over their meal.' Dorothy was well in the shadow, away from the flare of the candles, and Kendal weut up t her and knelt down beside her. "Dorothy," he says, brokenly, "I be lieve as how I've done about all I could for you" ho glances at she sleeping inau ''and now I'm goin' away from the farm --for good to-night now !" Ho holds out his hand. 1 'orothy does not take it. She rises; the crosses to the window and pulls aside the thin curtain, and beckous Jack Ken dal to her side. "Jack," she says, "when Iaawyouout yon, and taw thajiahts a6hjuin'LJj)rryd for "you to come batk'saTe.'" ' Jacklhakes his head sadly. "For you!" the girl cries, wildly; not him! It's all been a 'mistake with him; it it's been you, .lacK, all the time. When I saw them lights, I knew I couldn't love no landsman, Jack I couldn't marry no man as couldn't man ago a boat bcttcr'n that. Jack," she adds, plaintively, "will you hev me?" And Jack makes little answer, save the fold of his wet young arms about her closely, the kisses of his ruddy mouth on hers. So these four, quietly, lest they wake the bruisedand resting man, eat to gether their Thanksgiving dinner. And at the east window, where Dorothy left the curtain pushed aside, the Cape Ann Lights gleam in and shine on Jack's happy face. "I'll always lov them light," Doro thy whispers to her lover, later on. "Will he!" Jack asks. "Yes," the girl answers, thoughtfully. "Two of a kind is a fair mating," strok ing her lover's hand ; "but ill-matched ia only marred." Fannie A. Matheic. DREAMS." I dream of days now long forever fled A time when life was earnest real and the hope of happiness was dead; Before lifo's sorrows filled my heart anew With floc-ting fancies wishes never gained Though oft they seemed close to my eager grasp; Ambition lured to heights I ne'er attained, To friends whose hands I always failed to clasp. I often dream of days that now are here; Of hopes that urge me on my toilsome way ; Of stars that shine, my wayward course to cheer, Up to the realms of longed-for famed day. The more I strive the farther off it seems This goal for, which I vainly dream and hope The sun obscured to me it hides its beams vVhile I in doubt my rayless pathway grope. Then I have dreams of life not yet begun, Hidden away In years long years to be, On wheels of life where golden threads are spun; When toil is dono the weary spirit fit. This dream is one I fain would realize; To prove that life is not quite all in vain, Bat if it reaches far beyond the skies Before death come oh, let me dream again. Clint L. Luce, in the Current HUMOR OF THE DAT. Half the pepper sold in Boston consists of p's. lkacon. The darkest hour is when you can't find the matches. Rations of Euroie appear to have nary a l'rinee who is able to govern Bulgaria. Washington jfost. Gems of thought Where is the win ter coal coming from? Waterloo Obser ver. If there is one thing that quicker than another will drive a man- to drink it ii thirst. Life. It is said that bees can predict weather. They can certainly make it hot where they aro. Botm Pott. There is nothing especially murdoroui or ferocious about a gilded youth, and yet he takes life easily. Jiamoler. A farmer's journal says tomataes will ultimately be propagated from shoots. Planted with a gun, eh?. Sitings. Can a man lose anything he nevei owned? Why, certainly; people loss railroad traius every day. Boston Poet. Light moves 192,000 miles per t.rcond. Sound moves 743 miles a sec. i d, and scandal travels around the world in no .time. Life' The West ia said to be a great grain growing country, but it cannot raise its own bread without the assistance of the yeast. Pallas A'em. E. Stone Wiggins, the late earthquake prophet, parts his hair in the middle. For all that, his head does not appear to be evenly balanced. Graphic. It is stated that mosquitoes will not sting grown persons if there is a baby in the room. They probably realize that tho baby causes them sulllciont suffering. New JJavtn jVeicf. ' Two clergymen once hotly disputed on some knotty point of thoology until it was time to separate, when one of them remarked: "You will find my views very well put in a certain pamphlet," of which he gave tho tite. To his sur prise his antagonist replied: "Why, I wrote that pamphlet myself." The Churchman. The r.inblenifttlo Horse-Shoe. And now it is authoritatively stated that tho horso shoe is not the emblem of good luck it has so long been supposed. On the contrary, it brings the reverse of luck to people who treasure it. T!i superstitious will please take notice, u'iu cease to pick up this offending piece of iron wherever and whenever they chance to see it, as has long beou their custom. One of the greatest scamps on record, a person who would have sold his mother's false teeth if the "lit took him," once said nothing on earth or in heaven would prevent him stopping to pick up a horse shoe, for, if h knew his fortuue was at stake should he miss a certain train, he would rather lose both than puss thii emblem by! It is melancholy to acknow ledge ho was ulways a lucky fellow till he died, and then, who can tell whether he was or not? At all events be left a large collection of horse-shoes of ull sizes and conditions to mourn his loss, and henceforth exercise their thauiuaturgical power in soium , neighboring juuk-khop. -IiijtUin lit rull WORKING A CEDAR MINE. BECOVERINO SUBMERGED TREES FROM A NEW JERSEY SWAMP. A Forest of Bis Cedars That, IH Agea Ago Mot liodn of Their re covery Their Uses. A Dcnnisville (N. J.) letter to the T York Sim says: The fallen and s-;! merged codar forests of this part of New Jersey, which wcro discovered first be neath the Dcnnisville swamps seventy five years ago, still afford employment to scores of p vople iu their excavation, and are a source of constant interest to geol ogists. There are standing at the present day no such immenso specimens of the cedar anywhere in tho country ns are found embedded deep in the muck of tho Dcnnisville swamps. Some of tho , trees that havo been uncovered arc six -feet in diameter, and trees four feet through are common. Although ages must havo parsed since these great forests fell and be came covered many feet beneath the surface, such trees as fell, ac cording to the genoral theory, while yet living trees, are as Bound to-day as they were tho day they were uprooted. These trees are called windfalls, as it is thought they were torn up by tho roots during; some torrible galo of an unknown pat. Others are found in tho muck which are called break-downs, as they were evi- . dently dead trees when they fell, aiuJ-;': have been held by tho action of the miiii " and water in the swamp in the same '. stage of decay they wcro in when tlu y fell. The cedar forests, it is thought, grew in a fresh-water lake or swamp, tho action of which was necessary to their existence. According to Mr. Clarence Deming and Dr. Maurioo Beasely, eminent geological authorities of south ern New Jersey, the so.i either broko in on tho swamps or the land subsided, and the salt water readied the trees. This destroyed the life of many of them, and in time the great windfall came and leveled the forest. The trees now lie ' beneath tho soft soil at various depths, and ever since 1812 the logs havo been mined and are an important factor in the local commercial interests of South Jer sey. The cedars are cut up into shingles and staves, and the longevity of articles made from the wood is shown in shingles, . tubs, and pails whib were made ovet seventy years ago, and which show fco signs of decay yet. - ! The workiug of a "cedar mine" is ex ceedingly simple. Tho log digger en ters the swamp and prods in the soft soil with a long, sharp iron rod. Tho trees lie so thickly beneath the surface that the rod cannot be pushed far into the muck before it strikes a log. That done, the miner soon informs himself as to the length of the trunk, and then chips oil a piece which his rod brings up. By the smell of this chip tho logger can tell whether he has struck a break-down ot a windfall, and, if it is tho latter, he proceeds at once to raiso tho log. He works a saw similar to thoso used by ice cutters, down through the mud and saws tho log in two as near the roots as neces sary. The top is next sawed off, and then the big cedar stick U ready to bo released from its resting plac . A ditch is dug down to tho log, tho trunk is .looseuod and it rises up with tho water to the surface of the ditch. A curious thing is noticed about these logs when they come to the surfaco, and that is that they invariably turn over with their bottom sides up. The log is sawed into proper lengths for shingles or staves, which are split and worked into shape entirely by hand. These cedar shingles command a price.much higher than piuo or chestnut Bhingles. These ancient cedars aro of the white variety, and havo the same strong, aro matic fragrance when cut that the com mon red cedar has. The wood is of a delicate flesh color. One of the mysteries is that none of the trees is ever found to bo water-logged in the slightest degree, . It is impossible to tell how many layers deep these cedars lie in tho swamp, but it 'is certain that there are several layors, and that with all tho work that has boon done in the swamp for seventy years the first layer has not yet boen remove 1. At some places in the marsh the soil has sunk for soverai foet and become dry, and there tho fallen cedars may b; seen lying one on "top of another in great heaps. No treo has been removed from tho Dennisvillo swamp from a greater depth than threo feet, but they have been found at a greater depth oulj-ide tho limits of tho swamp, showing not only the correctness of tho deep layer theory,but the great extent of the ancient forest outsido of the swamp urear Neat the shores of the Delaware, nearly eight miles from Dennlsvitle, white cedar logs havo been exhumed from a depth of twelve feet. At Cape May, twenty miles distant, drillers of an artesian well struck one of the trees when the drill was almost ninety feet in tho earth, it was lying i:i an alluvial deposit similar to the Dcnnis ville marsh. Another log was found at Cape May twenty feet b . low the sur- face, and a third at a depth of seventy feet. These logs were all of enormous si-e. What it is in the umber-colorod swamp water and red muck at Dennis villu that preserves thesi tree so that after a lapse of centuries their ti er is hs clean and smooth as it was when the green branches of the cedars were w iving over the swamp is a mystery that scien tific men have as yet been unable to lolve. In Franco (he number of suicides is alarmingly on tho increase. Iu If il theie veri! ten suicides to every l'HI.t'O) inhabitants, but in li-Sl thero were twenty to tho tamo number, at tlu btat'.siics show, "Cuth" says that the city of New YorK is growing mom and luoro lk Paris every ytar.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers