-''-a. or .itw-,.. a; , '11!. B. T. SCIIWEIER, THE COISTITTJTIOI-THE UHOI-AID THE EJTFOXGIVEIT OF THE LAVS. Editor and Proprietor, i VOL. XXXII. MIFFLINTOWN, JUNIATA COUNTY, PENNA., WEDNESDAY, APRIL 3, 1878. NO. 14. illllfe SjJ) W ; y' TIE VESPER BELL. Bid; on, ring on, sweet vesper bell. From out your loftj tower; Your dlvery ai-cen's seem to t?ll How sacred is the hoar. Ring, for Jhe day is almost lon; And now, wbTje. heaven's b)eaing fall. So g?njissof Uy. over all. Aa if iiFkudwer to your call Sweet veaper bell, ring on ! Bow we'c me were the t nea. aweet bell, Oue week ago to-day ! Since then how many a sad farewell Fond lips have learne 1 to ey ! Bow many a soul u heaven bis gone To win the fadeless diadem ! Sad hearts are left; oh, now for them In tones of aweeti-t requiem. Ring, reaper bell, ling on ! And when again, sweet vesper bell. The day of rest shall come; Who kn weth if he still will dwell Here, in an earthly home? How many a ta-Jt will then be done! Oh, may Go! koei us in his care; Miy He, Himself, onr sou! prep re! Street ball you warn ua to beware. King on! ring on! ring on! The Faithful Lovers; OR. Something to His Advantage. Old Ludwig Leibhart was a brewer in the srood citv of Hamburg. He wag as rotund as oue of his own ale-casks; stolid, cood-natured and obstinate. His wife, Katrine, was his antipode. Fair, blue-eyed, mercurial, lull of dreams and flower-like fancies, she flourished under her husband's protec tion in a strange, beautiful sort of con trast to his rude strength. Ludwig regarded her as something unique being a woman ; and, also, being a wo man, to be restrained judiciously, and by no means to have her own head. "Ah, Katrine," he would say .slowly shaking his head, "tis well the children take after me. If they had thy tem perament they would drive four-in- hand to the devil." "Tut, tut," looking around upon her round-checked flock, "Otto is my own boy." "We will make Otto a brewer," said his father, composedly. Otto grew up handsome, talented, impetuous, and with a special passion for study. But a brewer Otto would not become. Old Leibhart's good na ture deserted hiin. He stormed; Kat rine cried. .The end of it all was that Otto sailed for America to seek his fortune. , Behold him, then, housed in a little room, far up towards the sky, in the great foreign city, with its unfamiliar life and ways, trying to keep soul and body together by translating, giving lessons in German and in music, get ting an occasional bit of copying to do, and so keeping the wolf from the door; sometimes getting a dinner plentiful enough for his young, strong frame, sometimes not, but maintaining his Teutonic good nature, and never quite ready to despair. It may be guessed that the young fellow suffered from homesickness. Letters from home came seldom, for Katrine was no pen-woman. It may also be guessed that with his impul sive, ardent, affectionate temperament, he longed for society. Chance, it is true, threw him into the way of a few of his compatriots, but they wereof the beer-drinking, roystering sort, and Otto's distaste for the paternal busi ness extended to the beverage manu factured; and so the young fellow lived mostly alone solacing himself by those happy visions which are the dower of youth, and by his violin, an old instrument which he had picked up in boyhood in a stall in Hamburg, and which he fondly persuaded himself was a genuine Stradivarius. When he was particularly happy or specially sad, this Old World instrument shared his emotions and rollicking nieas-ires, or wailed in the minor key with the t-oulofits master. Living this isolated, unnatural sort of life. Otto hardly knew or cared to know, who his fellow-lodgers were. They came and went ; he net them on the stairs; they bowed silently or passed him unrecognizing and he never thought of them again. Among others, he occasionally lifted his hat to a young girl who daily trip ped over his staircase. At first he hardly noticed more than that she was a girl. By-and-by something more stole in upon his consciousness. She wa? lovely as well as young, a slender, rose-and-white, gray-eyed creature, with brown curling hair, cropped close about her temples. It was spring. The children in the street were selling violeU. The wind came in warm, soft sighs, such as stir the heart and waken vague longings and 6weet old memories. Otto' heart was tender. It was young so eager to love, so empty, so desolate. Coming home and mounting the land ing, he saw the figure ot his young neighbor leaning by the window,which opened upon a square, green and flower-garnished, and then looked away over the tops of the tall houses to the uperbly beautiful bay. As he came up she turned her head slightly, and their eyes met. hers so soft and beauti ful that there suddenly aweke in his heart an uncontrollable desire to hear her voice. "It is a lovely view," he said at haz ard. "Yes, I worship it. It is my great est pleasure, and I hate to leave it," she said, with a certain impatience in her voice, which he did not under stand. But he felt all at once for her to go away was for his life to loose something. "Are you going away, then?" he asked sadly. "I must. If I stay I shall starve, and starving is not pleasant. Unless, in deed," with a quick look, "Monsieur goes." "I go!" he responded, not compre hending. "Yes indeed! Do you not under stand ? It is you who disturbs, annoy, hinder me from work." "I?" with amazement. "You or your violin, which comes to the same thing. Monsieur, I write stories for my living. I have to sit and write all day long, and I get so tired. Sometimes your violin draws my thoughts away from my hero I get so weary of my heroes and heroines and sends me away into beautiful, impossi ble dreams. And sometimes it grieves oh, so sadly, and my heart aches, and aches, till I find myself crying like a child. And then the day is gone and no pages written. Xo! If Monsieur and bis violin stay, I must go." "Mademoiselle," said Otto, meekly repentant, "do not go. I will play no more upon my violin." A flash leaped to her eyes a sweet seductive color rose to her cheek. Then a shade crossed her face. "But that will be too much sacrifice for Monsieur." "Xo oh, no indeed," with generous delicacy. "I am likely to be so busy now that I shall not have time to play." "Ah '"joyfully, "then Mrs. Grundy will not be disturbed any more." "1 am sorry I disturbed Mrs. Grundy,' said Otto, good uaturedlv. "Is she an old lady?" Such a laugh as rang out into . the spring air. Otto had heard nothing like it since he had left Germany. "Mrs. Grundy is my cat. That's the name I scold her by. But mostly I call her Kittykins. Cats, Monsieur knows, do not like music." Otto bowed with a mock chivalric air. "Give my compliments to Mrs.Grun dy, alia Kittykins. and tell her that I will not disturb her again, although I must regard la r not liking my music as a proof of lit-r bad taste." This interview gave a new flavor to Otto's monotonous life. It threw a rosy glow over the spring. He longed to have it repeated. But it was not repeated. His young neighbor wag busy. Once or twice the door was ajar, and he saw her bending over the table, pen in hand, while Mrs. Grundr alias Kittykins, a splendid, sleek-while grimalkin looked gravel v on. It made Otto's heart ache to think of; a young creature shut up with that eternal scratch, while all the happy 1 world outside grew more and more beautiful. But he presently had enough to do to think and plan for himself. His luck deserted him, if he could ever be said to have had any luck. The peo ple who gave him translating found some one who would do it cheaper. As summer came on his scholars went into the country. Almost before he knew it his meagre income slipped away out of his hands. He went without dinner often now. He grew wan and hag gard. Marie Le Yert saw it and grieved. "He is mourning for his beloved violin. What a selfish girl I was. I will tell him so the next time I see him." That very day she found him stand ing at the top of the landing, by the window. Such a white face as turned upon her. The tears rushed to her lovely eyes. "I am so sorry, monsieur, I did not think what a selfish thing I was doing. Let me hear your violin again. Indeed I I have missed it." He tried to smile, to thank her, but a mist swam before his eyes; he tottered and would have fallen had he not clung to the casement. She stared at him in alarm for an in stant and then flew away, returning in a breath with a spoonful or two of wine in a glass. "Drin i ! Oh, I wish I had more !" Scant as the potion was it revived him slightly. "Come with me ! Lean on me ! I am strong. Come !" He was still faint and almost deliri ous, and he obeyed like a child. She led him into her own little room ; drew him to a lounge, where he sank exhausted. Her hands trembled as she arranged the pillow. She saw, now, that this stout young Teuton was absolutely dying of hunger. With quick movements she kindled a fire, made tea and toast, went out for a minute and returned with a bit of tender beef, which she boiled, giving him every drop of the precious juice. A little while afterwards he wasable to sit bolstered up and take the tea and toast. "You are so good !" he said, with a wan smile. She smiled back at him, tears in her eyes. "Xow go to sleep." she said sotny ; and indeed ho presently fell on into a doze. Marie sat and watched turn. Here was a romance, and she was a part of it. How handsome he was, poor fel low, in spite of the hollow temples and the blue circles around his eyes. She sat hour after hour, in a flood ol happy thoughts. At last at midnight, Otto awoke. "Are you better?" she said, geutly. At first he did not know where he was, but when it came back to him he aid : "Fraulein, you have saved my nie. "Oh, I'm so glad !" she said, in a rich tender voice. He was able to stand now, to walk slowly to his own room. "Monsieur," she said, hastily, "you must promise to breakfast with me." He hesitated, colored. "Promise," she said, with charming imperiousness. And he promised. The room looked lonely after he was , .. . . i 1 v. 1 r gone. Jllrs. tirunuy siren-iieu on the lounge where he had lain, and Marie went and nestled her cheek against the soft fur. She was only dimly conscious that his head had also lain there. "Kittykins," she said, at last, "1 think it's rather hard not to have any thing but a cat to love." Kittykins blinked sleepily at her.and putting out one velvet paw, daintily touched her mistress' cheek. Oh. Kittvkins" with a half sob, "if you'd only talk! I am convinced you vy j , might if you choose, and you'd be sure to say something agreeable," said Marie; and then laying her head on the cat.she cried like any other woman When breakfast was ready the next morning she tapped at Otto's door. They could not meet without blush lng. Each knew that it could never be between them as it had been. The picture they present to my imag ination is a pleasant one. So poor, ex cept in their youth ; so hopeless, save of love. "Xow tell me all about your trou bles," she said, after she had made the room once more the dainty little parlor Otto thought the cotiest place he ever saw. He told her. It was so good to have a friend He could not guess the meaning of the wise look she gave him when by and-by, she put on her hat and told him to keep Mrs. Grundy company until her return. She came back wUa flushed cheeks and bright eyes. "Good news! Good news!" she cried. "Longman & Gray will employ you to translate German stories, He seized her hand and kissed her fervently. "Angel !" he cried. Marie wept. To her also it seemed good to have a friend Apart now through the long summer days the two worked. In the evening he took her to the park, where the bands played and gay crowds made a picture. She wi a little pale now. lie noticed that she could not walk so far as he did at first. "Oh, if I could only take you into the country, my darling," he said. "I should so like to see the country," she answered, a little righ fluttering from her lips. Otto thought bitterly what a curse poverty was. He had so longed to take her to his heart and away from all that monotonous work. He had even written to his father, but he got for answer that he bad chosen his own way, and must walk in it. "Otto !" cried Marie, suddenly. She i had picked up a bit of an old city news- paper, and was carelessly reading it. "Otto! was your father's name Lud- wig?' "Yes," in wonder. She grew white. "Read." He took the bit of newspaper and read. "If the son of the late Ludwig Leib hart of Hamburg. Germany, will send his address to USO Broadway, he will hear of something to his advantage." "My father is dead, "said Otto slowly. What shall we say more than that old Ludwig, on his deathbed, had for given his son that Otto went back to Germany, taking Marie with him, and that they will live there, as happy as love and prosperity can make them. A Turkish Clairvoyant. Xecromancers, seers and seeresiK" who profess to commune with the spirits of the dead, are to be found among the occult scientists of Stamboul. One of these was said to be an ecstatic medium of great power. She was but eighteen and married, and had just recovered from a serious illness when I heard that some Klianums of my acquaintance were going to visit her. Attaching my self to them, we found the Xuu Faldje Care in a lonely winding street of a poor neighborhood of Stamboul. A crowd of all sorts of women, rich and poor, filled her little sanded ante-room. There were mothers with sick infants in their laps, come for a "cure;" there were daintily dressed slaves from the Seraglio, wrapped up in shabby feradjis; there were married Khanuras with the threat of divorce hanging over their heads, There they patiently awaited for hours their turn to be admitted to the inner room. This was as poor as the other. The seeress, seated on a low stool in the midst of the uncarpeted floor, leaned over a low brass mangal, or chafing-dish. She was a plump, fair young woman, with flaxen hair, and eyes of a peculiar light tint. She ap peared to be excessively exhausted and could not repress long and repeated yawns. She told us there were great de mands on her power, and that her strength was almost entirely gone at the end of the day. She would do her best for us, but In such a state of exhaus tion her visions were uncertain. Then placing is before her on low wicket stools, she bent over the braz er and sprinkled on the live coals a powder called ambara, the fumes of irbich pre sently affected her as one has seen mes meric passes affect a mesmeric subject. Her eyes were raised and had a fixed look, but she sat upright and answered intelligibly the questions which were put to her by ourselves or by the woman who acted as her second. I do not re member what she predicted for the others of our party, but for me she fore told a voyage over the sea, which was not a remarkable clever hit, since she must have known that I was a foreigner in Turkey intending some day to return to my native land. Still, I must do my fortune teller the justice to acknowledge that I did make an unforeseen voyage to India not long after. But the seance, on the whole, was a failure; and as the effect of the umbara soon passe 1 off, the seeress returned to her normal state, and begged ns to leave her to repose, which, in pity to her weariness, we presently did, A mtdjidieh (about four shillings) was looked on as a liberal gift from our party, some who had consulted having offered only a bethlie or two, (a bethlie is about one shilling), and some had given only a few paras or pence. The woman seemed qutte poor, and evidently lived very miserably, saving most of her gains, and having to support a husband who had no calling. It was said that grief at the loss of her baby had made her a clairvoyant. She was much sought after from the fear that her ' gift" would wear away as her sorrow healed. Hers was looked on as a case of genuine mediumship, and to see ber I could not doubt that she be lieved in her mission and powers. Sweden. Stockholm lacks the magnificent sun ny 8 weep of the bay of Xaples ; it lacks too, the voluptuous light of Italy, that so wonderfully gilds and soothes an Italian landscape into a scene of sUkeu beauty. But with the exception of Xaples and Edinburgh it is the most nobly situated capital of Europe The Malar lake, on whose pregnant emer ald slopes it lies or rather in and about which Stockholm runs like an incrus tation of rare repousse work is. on a limited scale, a miniature St. Lawrence, full of islands, turreted and twisted into a thousand insular eccentricities, fan tastic with loam and firs, covered with the richest ombrage, bright with cas tles and chateaux, and made aiive by a singularly vivacious population. Stock holm itself is a string of islands, linked together by bridges. The crowning architectural feature of the town is the slottet, or royal residence, built upon a lofty islet, and commanding the whole scene with its massive square walls. A beautiful causeway, the Xorsbro, lined by low shops and leading down by a stairway to the famous Stromparterre, connects it with the great square and royal theatre. It is one of the finest sights imaginable to stand on this causeway and watch the people drifting over, the thronging ships and steamers in the winding lake beneath, and the brilliant and buoyant life all around. The royal castle is a many-sided mon ster; a vast library, a museum, splendid state apartments, and a sumptuous hall are contained within its huge quadran gle. European palaces are not prepos sessing in general; they look like im mense jails penitentiaries for princes with no end of cob-webbed window glass, and habitable only here and there in certain suites of rooms, like oases in the desert. The quays around and beneath the Slottet are lined with Russian, Danish, Dutch and English ships. Statues of Gustavus Adolphus, Gustavus Vasa, aud Charles XII. a remarkable one of the latter by Molin surrounded by four mortars, captured in his wars, stands in the Place Charles XII. are as numerous as the bronze Dukes of Wellington, in London, pran cing to battle in every square and char ging unimaginable enemies on brazen steeds. The apotheosis of brass is really becoming intolerable. One can hardly take a step in continental towns but heroes and martyrs arc grimacing and pirouetting from pyra mids or granite. The statue of Charles XII., though striking enough in itself. is on a singularly low pedestal. A fine fountain, also by Molin, and a statue of Charles XIII. adorn the same sunny and sylvan square. A little alley leads to the square commemorative of the great chemist, Berzclius. The beauty of Stockholm is its blend ing of rushing melodic water, towering islands and rich umbrageous sunuros. Its island clusters are girded bv a per- lietual sinuous sunlight of changeful water. The Carnival of Venice. There comes a time to the sea city when the heaviness of mid-winter van ishes from the hearts of the people, and in its stead appears a budding hope, like a dim intuition of the approach of spring. 1 he impressionable enetian nature revea's In its external shows the emotions that are at work under the surface of the city's life. Thus the burst of triumph at the departure of he winter, which has not yet given place to the tender silence of the spring, finds its symbol in the mirth and riot of the carnival. The fishermen who toil in storm and wind out upon the treacherous lagoons deny themselves their daily share of polenta in order that they may spend more freely at carnival. The women. stringing beads in the doorways, work faster as the merry time approaches. hat the children may have at least one treat of panna and frittule. The girls. sewing in dark back-rooms, toil for weeks far into the night for the sake of the one day's masking with their lovers. The children in the streets cover their faces with paper masks and cry out to the pasers-by in the hoarse voice that the city's traditions have cousecrated to the mad season. In the narrow by ways hang worn garments of silk and satin covered with gold and lace. They flash together in the sunlight that steals down between the houses the brocad ed coat of the old noble the thread bare velvet trains of dead and gone great ladies the torn gauze skirt of some poor dancing girl. As the time of the carnival draws near, the faces of the people color with hope and excitement. The women leave their households and pour into the sun-warmed streets, brave in scar-let-and-yellow shawls, with heavy braids coiled about their heads. On their necks and wrists are the long slen der gold chains that have come down through generations of toiling woman hood. The young girls stroll in groups along the rira, glancing from under their powdered lashes at the stalwart gondoliers. Their trains sweep far behind them, and large fans protect them from the western sun. The boatmen don their festa shirts and deck their worn, broad hats with feathers. The fishers patch afresh their old blue coats, and mend the rents in their red Greek caps. The peasants leave their low cabins among the dead vines and press into the town with bas kets of eggs and fowls, that are to be traded for their lodging in the days of the carnival. From the sleepy old towns of the in terior come the pale citizens. They have a dispirited, listless look, as though they had dwelt all their lives under the shadow of a past that had weighed oppressively upon them. They are haggard, and pinched, and wistful eyed. There is a shabbiness in the thin, well-kept silks of the women, their over-large, well-cleaned gloves, aud their fashions of twenty years back ; in the threadbare cloaks and rusty, once elegant hats of the men ; in the rude, home-made jackets and trousers of the gray-eyed little boys. They are courteous and dignified. They gaze at tbe merry shows of the carnival as though they felt that naught could dis sipate the gloom of the past. For them life is less real than the dreams of the old mtrket-places and cathedrals of their homes. The Venitians jostle them in the crowds and laugh at their poor finery; and they, all unconscious, smile in a forlorn, lost fashion, and wander on as those who feel that the world has left them behind forever. The crowd strolls on, day after day, along the broad path by the side of the lagoon, where wooden booths have been erected, with gay flags streaming from their roofs. Flaring pictures lean against the boarded fronts; saints per forming miraculous cures ; wild beasts devouring their keepers. On the threshholds stand weather-beaten men and women in fanciful garments, who call out to the people to enter and be hold the greatest marvels of tbe latter world for ten centimes. Wherever there is an open space in the crowd the people stop and gather about the jugglers and charlatans, who shout themselves hoarse over the clix ers in which they deal. Sometimes in the thick of the throng there is a gleam of bright satin, aud a confusion of braw ny liuibs in coarse cotton coverings. It is a family of acrobats, tumbling in the sunlight toearu their scanty supper They twist their supple bodies into strange shapes so long as the crowds of laughing sailor-lads and gondoliers en courage them with kindly cries. Then they gather up the coins that fall upon the pavement, and wrap their shabby cloaks loosely about their dingy finery. The women lift their babies from the ground, the men shoulder the imple ments of the profession, and the poor souls move off, followed by the strag gling crowd to another open space, where the fishers are waiting to be aroused from their sun-baked slum bers. Paddy and the Lovers. A few mouths since a son of Erin, about 8 o'clock one evening, stopped at a country inn in the western part of Pennsylvania, and called for lodgings for the night. It was quite evident from bis appearance that he and liquor had been quite jelly companions throughout the day. The landlord was a lazy good-natured soul and had im bibed rather freely that day himself. "If I give you a light and tell you which room it is, do you think you can find It!" "Och, and it's meself that can do that thing most illigantly. Jist show me the way and I'll find it as aisy as the Holy Virgin showers down blessing upon the sinful," replied the Irishman. The directions were given him, also aca.idle. He was directed to go to tbe second floor of the bouse. By the time he had reached the top of the stairs the lijjht had become extinguished and he had forgotten which way to go. Seeing rays of light issuing from a room, the door of which stood slightly ajar, he re connoitered the inside of the room, and found it contained a bed in which lay a man and a stand with a lamp on it Feeling disinclined to make any further search for the room to which he had been directed he divested himself of his clothing and crept quietly into bed He had been in bed but a few moments, when a young gentlemm and a lady entered the room. The Irishman eyed them closely. They seated themselves on the chairs in close proximity to each other, and after chatting merrily for some lime the young man imprinted a kiss on the young lady's tempting lips. The scene amused the Irishman very much and being quite free from selfish ness he concluded that bis sleeping com panion should be a participant with him in the enjoyment of the scene. He nudged him, and found that he was tightly locked in the embrace of death. Synonymous with the discovery he bounded out of bed exclaiming: "Muther! muther! Holy saints of Hi ven protect me I" He had scarcely touched the floor with his feet before the young gentle man and lady were making rapid strides towards the stairway, terror being de picted on their countenances. They had just reached the top of tbe stairs when the Irishman came dashing along as though the fiends of Erebus were close at his heels, intent on making him their prey; the whole three went tum bling down stairs together, and it was hard to tell which reached the bottom first. The landlord stood aghast, as the Irishman rushed into the bar room, the hair on bis head standing on end, his eyeball's ready to leap from their sockets, and he gasping badly for breath. It was a sight that would make a man laugh who had worn a vinegar face from the day of his birth. When the young lady and gentleman found that It was not the corpse that had so unceremoniously bounded from the bed, they returned to the room, being the watchers for the night. Bight Bestored for Ten Minutes. Mrs. Abbott, who resides within a few miles of Pitt's Point, Ky., had a singular circumstance to happen to her one day last week. She has been totally blind for about eight yean, but, for about ten minutes on the day in question, she re covered her sight, and was enabled -during that brief period to see everything about the house, something she had not been able to do for eight years be fore. Tbe house had recently been newly papered and painted, aud, when total blindness came over her again, she described accurately the various colors used in the papering and painting. Her son had married since the lost her sight and she had never seen her daughter-in-law, but, in the period she was re stored to sight, she saw her, and after ward described her appearance accur ately. The momentary ecstacy occasion ed by miraculous restoration to sight was as suddenly dissipated by its equal ly Instantaneous loss, and she Is now as blind as ever. Nebraska, has over 100,000 school children. John McCullongh and the School Ma'a All the schoolmasters and schoolmis tresses in Boston are scolding John McCullough for pronouncing "Corio lanus" with the accent on the second syllable. The actor's defence is that rythm requires this pronunciation, and that he is loyal to the traditions of the stage and to the memories of Kemble, Mac ready and Forrest. His critics re tort that although tbe word is used twenty-two times in the play, the accen t forced on the second syllable only once, and that tbe ictus properly falls on the first and fourth syllables ; and moreover that in Shakespeare's verse the two short vowels "io" are orJinari ly used as a single syllable, so far as metrical quantity is concerned. The discussion has ceased to be Interesting, inasmuch as it was worn threadbare in Forrest's time, and every argument that could be used on either tide was then brought forward. One new thing however, can now be said ; the retention of unusual pronunciation is a tribute to Forrest himself, and serves to remind old play-goers of a grand voice that will never be heard again. Mr. McCullough in a talk with a Globe reporter, has re ferred to the attack which the critics made upon his great predecessor, and to the persistency and vigor with which such interference was resented. He says that it was very amusing to note the emphasis which Mr. Forrest laid upon the second syllable in cities where he critics excepted to bis pronunciation. "He would ring out the next night, 'Co-rye-o-fa-nus' and 'Co-rye-o-Ii,' said Mr. McCullough, giving a fine imitation of the great tragedian's manner. "He would fairly shoot the words at the audience on such occasions." A Partridge Conquers a Booster. At St. Foye, near Quebec, January 2, I beheld a male spruce partridge (Tetrao canadensis) engaged in a mortal duello with the Spanish knight-errant of our poultry yard. The combatants fought in the manner common to the Gallinacece eyeing each other with outstretched necks and drooping wings. At each attempt to strike on the part of the rooster, the partridge, with the rapidity of a flash, would hop, or rather fly, over the head of his unlucky oppo nent, aud, passing, would use as weapons of offense both wing and claw with astonishing effect. At each onset this passing was repeated several times without intermission, aud then the pos ture of attack would be resumed. In this manner the duello was carried on, round after round, but it soon became evident that, owing to his activity and strange and siierior mode of attack, the smaller of the two opponents must eventually become the victor. Feeling his r J vantage, the little hero's fury kuew nn bounds. Striking from all sides, he punished the unlucky Cheva lier des p),ule$ till his crest and wattles were torn to shreds, and, half blind, bleeding and stunned, he became utterly demoralized, ai.d took to his heels. Little, however, did his flight avail him. The partridge, bent on carrying hostilities to the bitter end, followed the rooster, knocking him down repeatedly by the violence of the blows, until, vanquished beyond hope lying flat on the sod, h ding hisbruised and bleeding head under a tuft of grass, Gallus surrendered at discretion. Tbe Dead Cattle King:. John W. lliff, the Colorado cattle king ho died in Denver, recently, after an illness of several months, left a fortune hich may be closely estimated at $1,000,000 including a life Insurance of $20,000. His ranch In Xorthern Color ado will be remembered by many visitors as one of the sights to see in that neigh borhood. This ranch is 156 miles long, and begins at Julesburg on the east and extends to Greeley on the west. It in cludes bottom and upland ranges, and has several cam ps or ranches. The chief ranch fs nearly south of Sidney, and about forty miles from Julesburg. At this ranch there are houses and sheds, and something more than two sections of land fenced iu. All the cattle bought by Mr. Hi IT were turned over to him and branded at this place. Here were his private stock-yards, with corrals, chutes, and all the necessary conven iences for handling cattle. It is on tbe South Platte River, and of course has fine watering facilities, while from tbe bottom land adjacent plenty of bay may be cut for the use of tbe horses employed in herding. He cuts no bay for bis cattle. They live the entire year on the rich native grass on his range, and with the exception of a severe w Inter now and then the percentage of loss was not very great. jur. li in was a tnorougn came man, and from hit long experience bad a perfect knowledge of the business. In 1875 he owned 26,000 head of cattle. The number of calves branded thf.t year on his ranch were from 4,500 to 5000 head and his sales of three aud four year-old steers and fat cows that fall probably amounted to about the same number. To take care of this immense herd he employed from twelve to thirty-five men very few, usually iu the winter, and the largest number during the "roundups" in tbe spring. This year he had twenty - four men employed. When engaged in tbe work of selecting cattle for ship ment the same men are gathering the cows with unbranded calves, which tbey put into the corrals near by, and, after the calves are brand ed, they are turned loose with the herd again. In addition to tbe cattle raised on this ranch, he dealt largely in Texas and Indian cattle, and had advertised for 30.000 head of Texas cattle to be delivered at bis ranch in July of the next year. Mr. Iliff estimated the in crease of cattle from his home herd outside of purchases and sales to be about 70 per cent, per year, and to be about equally divided as to gender. His shipping points were at Pine Bluffs and Julesburg, on the Union Pacific, and at Deer Tail, on tbe Kansas Pacific. The winter of 1S71-7J was very severe. There were deep snows over Mr, IliflTs range that remained on the ground a long time, and tbe aicrms were inces sant. In the midst of these storms Mr. Iliff visited his ranch and found his cattle literally dying by the thousands. On the islands in the South Platte River he found and drove off to the sand hills on the south side, after grer.t exertion, some 2,700 head, and of this number less than half were afterwards recovered, Their bleaching bones now whiten the plains in tbe vicinity where they were frozen to death, and those that were re covered were found in two different States and four different territories of the Union. More tban $24,000 were ex pended in trying to find them. Xor was this all. It was impossible to tell for a number of years how much the loss had been. His book showed nearly 5,00? bead unaccounted for. Xo trace of them beyond skeletons could be found and at last this number was charged to profit and loss account, and the books balanced for a new start. This large number would probably have averaged $20 per head could they have been sold tbe fall previous, and at this rate tbey would have amounted to $100,000 How an OU Well Is Drilled. A location is found and a wooden derrick of narrow plank and boards is erected. It is twenty feet square at the base, twenty-two feet high, and the four corners so converge that the top Is but three feet square. Here rests a heavy piece of tramway for the recep tion of the pully over which the two inch drilling cable is to work. In the valleys it is necessary to drive pipe to prevent the cav'ng in of the well. This pipe is of wrought iron, eight inches in diameter, and is driven in seventeen feet sections by a heavy maul erected in the derrick. Since it is to guide the drilling tools, great care Is taken that it be kept straight. The engine, gen erally of filteen-horse power, is placed a short distance from the derrick, twelve feet from the center of which is planted the sampson post, a heavy piece of tim ber twenty inches square and twelve feet high, the top of which is prepared to receive the walking-berm. This beam is larger in the center than at the ends. It is about fifteen inches square and of such a length that, when properly balanced on the sampson post, one end s over the middle of the derrick floor. To this end is fastened the cable and drillingtools, which weigh 3,000 pounds and the other end derives power from the engine, giving the beam a rocking motion , which lifts and drops the tools. They are lowered and drawn by the aid of the "bull wheel" and shaft. An eight-inch bole is drilled below the veins of fresh water, which is shut off by wrought-iron casing, five and a half inches in diameter, lowered in sections eighteen feet in length. After placing whatever amount of casing is needed, 253 or 00 feet, the size of the hole is diminished to five and a half inches, which continues until the completion of tbe well. Four men, two drillers aud two tool-dressers or black-smiths are required to sink a well. The rock, pulverized by the drill, is removed by the means of a sand pump, which is a heavy metal tube, six feet long, with a valve in the lower end, rapidly lowered and drawn by a l'ght rope, receiving its power from the engine. At a certain depth a first sand rock is found, then a second, and finally a third where the oil is stored. This sand Is from 18 to 100 feet deep and of a dark grayish color, containing pebbles the more the better. In close sand rock there is no oil. Sometimes when tbe tools penetrate a strong vein of oil and gas the oil flows out with great force, and, unless the boiler has been removed a good distance, it sets the oil on fire destroying the derrick and everything near it. With ordinary good luck a well is finished in a month. Great delay Is sometimes occasioned by the heavy tools "running away" from the well men, who escape from the derrick, as the tools, descending with great rapidity cause considerable destruction by send ing the bull wheels crashing through it. Then the "fisherman" with his curious and ingenious tools is employed at great expense to regain possession of the drill. Changes In Medicine. A medical paper of Paris gives an In teresting account of some marked changes in the use of medicines of late years. It states that in 1869 the Central Pharmacy distributed 141 kilograms of chloroform against 303 in 1S75. Chloral showed a still more rapid increase; for, while in 1869 only 5 kilograms were re quired, 3G0 were consumed in 1S75 Opium showed but small variations, but in respect to morphia the increase was from 275 grains to more than 10,000 kilegrams no doubt from the genera use of hypodermic injections. A very large augmentation characterized tbe amount of alcohol used in the hospitals and infirmaries of Paris that is from 1270 liters in 1S55 to 37.573 in 1S75. The same increase is noticeable in rum and red wine, while the quantity of white wine was sensibly diminished The use of leeches has gone uearly out fashion. A Famous Matador. Spanish bull-fighters find their dan gerous calling a very lucrative profes sion. Thus the famous matador oi Madrid, Frascuelo, possesses a fortune of $400,000, a magnificent house, and a wife considered the prettiest woman in Madrid, and is a member of one of the most aristocratic clubs in the city. On the day of a bull-fight Frascuela sends a messenger to his wife after each of his performances in the arena, the de struction of six bulls being his usual task, and twice he has been brought home seriously injured. Frascuelo took part in the recent bull-figlil before the King and Queen, and his costume was literally covered with diamonds. Most interest was felt, however, in the ama teur mataJors, cavalry officers chosen by the different provinces, and who showed themselves fully as skillful as the professionals. The new wing of the New Jersey State Prison, at Trenton, will be ready for occupancy about April 1st. The Indian Poet King. I am going to tell you of a trip to the mountain of Tezcosiugo, famous in Az tec days as being the pleasure garden and retreat of the Indian poet-king, Xezahuacoyolt.' From Texoeo the trip' is wildly picturesque and grandly beau tiful. The curiously constructed bath of Xezahuacoyolt is cut from a solid block of granite overhanging the brow of the hill. The rock has a smooth sur face several yards square, and dropping from its center is a circular basin some three or four feet deep and a dozen or more in cireumfereuee. Out of one side is cut a feat for the accommodation of the bather, while, rising from the surface a little back is another having a perfect chair form, with a rest on., one side for the arm. Protecting the out er side of this is a wall a part of the same rock into which seats have been cut, and various little niches in the form of miniature steps, which might have been used by the old Indian monarch as receptacles for his toilet parapher nalia. ; Following along the still well pre served path, we came to a chamber cut into the side of the hills, now unroofed and in ruins, the floor being strewn with debris. At the end of this vault ed chamber was a raised platform a foot in height and several feet square, hewu from solid rock, and on either corner, back of this, were niches chiseled out, with fragments of cement still clinging to their sides. We have since learned that between these, above the platform, there still remained at the beginning of the present century a large calendar stone, which was later destroyed by the neighboring Indians in search of treas ure. This curious work must have cost its builder? a vast deal of labor. Separating himself from the cares of his kingdom, Xezahuacoyolt came for retirement to this beautiful mountain, and here, four times a day for forty days, on bended knees, he offered pray er and incense to "the all-pow erful God hidden and unknown." It is said that iu answer to these earn est petitions a vision appeared to one of his servants in attendance, directing him to go at once to his master with the comforting assurance that the un seen God had been pleased to accept his prayers and ofl'erings, and would avenge him by the hands of his son, Axoquatzin, a boy of ouly seventeen years. The king could not accept the supernatural vision, which was, how ever, fulfilled. Xezahuacoyolt, upon hearing of the fulfillment of what he had considered a false prophecy, retired in humiliation to the garden of his palace, and, kneel ing on the ground, gave thanks to the unknown God for his signal benefits, promising to build a temple to his house, to abstain from idolatrous wor ship and human sacrifices, and to alone acknowledge the supremacy of the un known God. In compliance with his vow he built a tower nine stories high. the interior of which he garnished with gold and precious stones, and the ex terior of which he covered with black cement, embellished with stars. The workmanship was of the most expen sive order. In this superb tower were stationed men, whose duty it was, at certain hours of the day, to strike upon plates of fine metal, at the sound of which the monarch fell upon his knees in praywr. SwiM Kridyvs. Every traveler in Switzerland is struck with the peculiarity of their bridges, which are mostly roofed in the same fashion as their chalets, the use of which practice is not manifest at first but is doubtless for the purpose of pro tecting them from snow which would otherwise block up their transit. There are several curious specimens of these housed bridges in the antiquated city of Lucerne. They are also thrown across the river Reuss, which, although it en ters the lake of Altdorf, a turbid, pud dled stream, resembling milk, having passed through the lake, issues a beau- tiful sea-green, with all the swiftuess of a mountain torrent, at Lucerne. I know not why the flowing of a peaceful stream should not only attract but also rivet one's attention irresistibly; but so it was, that both here and at Geneva, where the Rhone issues a beautiful azure-blue, I could stand by the hour to look upon it. On panels, which are fastened to the timbers supporting one of the bridges, you have delineated the "Dance of leath," after Holbein's fa mous picture at Basle. On the side of another, which runs in a slanting di rection across the mouth of the Reuss, there are upward of seventy pictures, which describe the feats of the patron saints of Lucerne, while on the oppo site side there are the same number, de scribing, historically, various scenes in Swiss history. The Monster of tbe Deep. Mr. Henry in a recent issue of Land and Water says: The evidence of "great sea-serpents," or other so-called "marine monsters," having been occa sionally seen is such as would be re garded as valid and cogent in any court of justice. The witnesses are trust worthy as to character, and competent by training and experience. Tha officers of Her Majesty's navy -are incapable of combining together to offi cially and Intentionally promulgate falsehood; and they and the men under their command are too much ac customed to tbe sights of the sea to be easily misled either to greatly exagger ate the dimensions of au animal in view or to be so entirely deceived by appear ances as not to recognise one already known to them. It appears to me, there fore, that with such testimony before us, incredulity (which is more frequent ly then credence the result of the want of knowledge) is unjustifiable; and that the statements and descriptions of such witnesses ought to be frankly accepted and carefully considered with a view to satisfactojy explanation, if that be possible. The evidence is, to my mind conclusive that enormous animals, with, which zoologists are at present unac quainted, exist in the "great and wide, sea," and 1 look forward hopefully to the capture of one or more of them, and the settlement of this vexed question. St
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers