B. F. SCHWEIER, THE OOJ8TmJTI0I-THE TTJIOI-AXD THE HTOICIMETT OP THE LA. VS. Editor and Proprietor. YOL. XXXII. MIFFLINTOWN, JUNIATA COUNTY, PENN A , WEDNESDAY, APRIL 24, 1878. NO. 17. - THE TITOS. The tin, the tiroes I rt the times Are getting worse than ever; The good old wave oar fathers trod , Shall grace their children never. The turniptop and pumpkin Tine, - - - The produce of hie toil. Has given plan to flower pota And plants of foreign sail. ' Farewell, the pleasant honking night. Its merry after scenes. When Indian podding smoked beside The eiant pot of beans ; When lames joined the social band. Nor ouce affected fear, Hut gave a pretty oheek to kiss For every crimson ear. Affected modesty was not The test of rirtoe then. And few took pains to swoon away. At the sight of ngly men; For well they knew the parity Which woman's life should own. Depends not on appearances. Bat on the heart alone. farewell the jovial qoilhng matrh. - The songs and merry play, The whirling of the pewter plate. The many pawns to pay, Tbe mimic marriage brought about By leaping ever the broom, Tli -3 good old play of blind-man's buff. The laugh that shook the room. Farewell, the days of industry. The time has glided bv. When pretty hands were prettiest As making pumpkin pie ; When waiting-maids were needed not. And morning brought along The music of the spinning wheel. And the milkmaid's careless song. t Fnm the May' Landing Record.) A Practical Joke. BV LILIAN' L KnTKAXtiK. Well, anyway Eugene, after all vour boasting, you can never say you fiKlJ i once on the first of April." "No. I really cannot, Florence, but that is not saying I never will. Mark me. in two months' time you will not he so rcaily to reeat those words you said a few moments ago." "I will, too," replies the other, with a pretended jiout, which made her red, weet lips very charming. "Philip,'.' turning to the gentleman that had hitherto been on'y a listener to their merry talk, "you bear me witness. Just listen to Eugene. Why I've never tK-en "April-fooled," as the children ay, since I can rememlier, and I'm not going to begin now." "Very well. I'll wager you that cameo ring w e saw at Uai ley's last week, that it yhall be as I say." "Done!" replies the girl, with one of her low, merry laughs. "It'K just what 1 was teasing papa to get me at dinner to-day. There will be no backing out, either, Mr. Eugene Hirers. Here is a paper: sit down and pledge yourself," ami while the young mau is writing.we will glance at the three persons in the elegantly-furnished room. Florence Mortimer is the only child of wealthy Judgo Mortimer, and is, figuratively speaking, "the very apple of his eye."' To-night, as she leans eagerly over Eugene Rivere's chair, her red lips !iist parted in a merry smile, and show ing the glistening white teeth, one sel dom sees a more beautiful girl. She wears a dress of dainty blue cashmere, fitting closely to the slender form, and which is well suited to set off her deli cate blonde beauty. She is only eighteen, this little he roine of ours; a girl just blossoming into womanhood. She ha9 never known a care in all her happy, sunny life, and is one who will never have to say, "All Thy storms and billows have gone over me' Ah no! All her dainty feet will ever tread on will be the fairest, most delicate flowers with which mother nature ha ever strewn thii earth of our. Standing by her now, and gazing with fond, proud eyes, at the bewitch ing loveliness of her fair face, is Philip Kennedy, her ln-trothed of two week's standing. He is a noble, handsome fel low, in spite of his faults, w hich are not many.the worst lieing jealousy and distrust of human nature. He loves Florence Mortimer fondly and truly, and he is one whose affections are not easily transferred; with him, to love once is to love forever. And now we come to our third and last character.Kugene Ri vere.a thought less mirth-loving young editor of a no ted p:qer. Florence had known him from her earliest childhood, and he sup plied the place of the brother whom she had never known, as he died when she was a babv. Philip Kennedy has taken an absurd sort of dislike to the young fellow, and now, as he watches them together, a faint, undefined fear steals over his heart, which causes him to say hastily: "Well, Flo., if I wish to catch the train forB . I must be leaving." Florence starts up suddenly; the smile fades from her face, and all else is forgotten, in the fact that he, her hero, her king, as she fondly calls him, s going. The judge has called Eugene from the room a moment ago, and they are alone. Tears fill the girl's lustrous violet eyes, as she says : "Oh, Philip, must you go? I don't know what is the matter with me to night, but I feel as if when you went on this horrid journey, I should r.ever se vou airain. Oh, dear, don't go," she pleads, clinging to his arm and shivering all over. Philip looks down at her, smiling, as he folds her close in his strong arms, and then she nestles her golden head on his breast, aud is fain to be content. "Why, sweetheart," hesaysatlength "what is the matter with my own brave little girl?" stroking the thick, glossy c urls. . "I don't know, but I have some Kind of presentiment I shall never see you again." j - "Why Florence, my darlingyou are nervous. Tou know, dear, if I possi bly could help it I wouldn't go. but that is impossible. My employers have sent to me, and, if I disobey I lose my situation, which I can ill afford to do now, as your father will never consent to our marriage until I can support you in comparative luxury. And now, dar ting, promise me you will not flirt with Kugene Kivere while I am gone." "Indeed, Mr. Kennedy, I shall do no such thing," aud Florence tosses her golden head saucily. "It will be awful ly dry without you, and dryer still without Eugene to flirt with." "Florence," the bitter jealous feeling gnawing at his heart, "promise me. my darling, promise;" and he holds the white, slender hands tightly In his own. "Oh goodness, Phil, you hurt," says Florence, lightly ; "as soon as you let go I'll reply, sir." Her hands are instantly released. and dropping him a little mock courte sy, she says demurely : "Indeed. Mr. Kennedy, I'll be aw fully good, and 1 w on't flirt, oil my honor I won't flirt a bit. Does that satisfy your lordship?" "Perfectly;" his full trust in her love coming back. "And now, if I stop here any longer I shall certainly miss my train. Be true to uie,iuy own," and clasping her tightly to his heart for a moment, be pressed a kiss on the lovely lips and is gone, while Florence, with a desolate feeling she has never known before, rushes to her pretty lit tle room, and flinging herself on the soft bed, sobs herself to sleep. Two months have passed since the opening of our story, and Florence Mortimer one morning enters the hand some dining-room, and not seeing her father there, thinks while she waits for him, she will glance over the morning paper, which lies at his place. She does not feel as happy and cheer ful as is her usual wont, this bright, sunny morning, for three weeks have passed aud she has not heard trom Philip. "He need not have leen so anxious about my flirting with Eugene," she muses, "now that he sailed for Kuroe last week. I wish I knew why Philip did not answer my last letter. Suppose he should be ill," and an anxious cloud rutlles the lair brow. "Still he has friends there, I kuow. I've often heard him speak of how intimate he was with the Morgans, one of the lead ing families there." Then her eyes rove restlessly over the paper she holds for a moment her heart almost ceases its wild beating, as she reads 'Married, on the 31stof March,at the bride's residence, Mr. Philip Kennedy to Miss Annie Morgan." She reads the dreadful words again and again, until they seemed to lie branded upon her brain forever, with red hot coals. Tbe next moment there is a wild shriek, and Judge Mortimer entering hastily, sees his darling lying like one dead on the soft carpet, and a tightly clutched paper in one rigid hand. Days and nights follow when Flor ence Mortimer's life is despaired of. Days when Judge Mortimer, cursing the mau that has so blighted hisdaught er's life, spends hours in writing to him, and pouring forth his anger and wrath. But none seem harsh enough. At length one is sent which Philip Kenne dy receives at his hotel in B , and one which makes him sav, tearing it in pieces, "false, false, like them all, but I believed her so true, and oh ! I loved her so!" and the man, bowing his head on the table, weeps like a child. A year later a young man, rather browned with long exosure under foreign skies, but with a light, springy step, rings hastily at Judge Mortimer's elegant home, and handing the serv ant his card, asks for Miss Mortimer. He is shown into the familiar parlor, and in a few moments, a tall, slender girl enters, and with a faint smile on her cold, beautiful face, welcomes him back to America. "Florence !" he exclaimed, after the first greetings are over, "pardon me, but what has changed you so? I ex pected when I came back to find you Mrs. Kennedy, butmeetinga friend, he said you were still unmarried, and he had not seen Kennedy for a longtime," "No, Mr. Rivere, Mr. Kennedy will never be anything to me. He was mar ried to a Miss Morgan, a few days aft er vou set sail. I thought you knew it. 1 read the manage noth-e in your pa per." "What! Impossible! Oh good heav ens, have vou been so mistaken? Lis ten, Florence, and then forgive me, if you cau," cries Eugene. "ou remem ber my wager a year ago, about fooling you on the first of April? Well, I in serted that notice merely for that pur pose. I thought Philip would be home in a few days, and I supposed, after all our talk, you would surely guess the date of the paper. Oh, Florence, if I had only known; but you shall be righted. I will go to the end of the earth to find Kennedy. Give my kiud regards to the Judge; I will see him at some future date. Good-bye,Florence, I can never forgive myself until I de liver Philip Kennedy to yon, faithful and true still, as I know he will.be. Then, and then only, -vill I hope for your forgiveness." He clasps her hand for-a moment In his, and then seizing his hat, hastily leaves tbe bouse. A month has passed, and Florence Mortimer is stand i ng gazi ng eagerly out into the street, when a carriage drives on and two gentlemen spring out; another moment and they are jn the room, while Eugene says, "I said I would bring him to you, Florence dear, and I've done so, and now God bless you my children, and I'll exit," and as Eugene turns to leave the room, lor-: ence is folded close close in those dear arms, white she whispers softly, "Phil-l lp, can you ever forgive me for doubt ing you, I" but the sweet, penitent words are hushed by kisses, and Flor ence Mortimer knows she is forgiven. Wkat a Doll Boy Caane To. "How many children have you, sir." "Better than a dozen," said my fath er, smiling and rubbing his hands. "Is it possible!" they would reply; "what a family. 13 children !" "Why, no," said my father, "you mistake only 10, which 1 presume you will think better than a dozen." . My father was irclined to look upon the dark side of life, but my mother was an exceedingly practical woman, full of life and energy, an excellent butter and cheese maker, while she could cure the best hams and bacon In the county. She was always busy, and consequently had no time to be gloomy. My father used to trouble himself alnnit one of the older boys whom he faucied was stupid. He used to tell his dismal forebodings to my mother. "That boy will never make any thing," said he. "Ask him to fetch a pitchfork or a rake, and be will stare at you as though he never heard of a pitch fork in his life. Tell him to go after the cows, and you'll find him two hours after sitting on the fence staring at va cancy." Theu he Mould shake his head and say, "Oh yes, Dan. will have to be provided for all his days." My mother' exercised the most sense n this matter. I think, for she made the best of the young man's laziness, as we all called it. She used to put Dan. when he was quite a young man, to churning, and she used to put me, a mere child, to watch him. She used to say, "Xow, Harriet, you stay around the dairy, and when Dan. stops you start him up." Turn, turn, turn, went the paddle of the dasher for about Id minines, then it would slowly stop and the churner would be lost In thought. Then I would remind him, but a few minutes after he would stop again and bring out from his pocket a small Euclid, while again I would faithfully give him the necessary admonitions. My father kept several hundred sheep and after shearing, the wool was stored sometimes 'or mouths in the large wool room, built for that purpose, next to the granery in the brick barn. "Where is that boy?" asked my father. "It is not much that I care, for the work, but it distresses me to think of his growing up in such indolent hab its. Hat., go and find him, and tell him to goto work cutting turnips." I was not long in accomplishing this errand. Behind the immense pile of fleeces I could always find my gentle brother Dan., not whittling, nor whist ling, nor wasting his time (as we all kuow now), but diligently poring over a large volume, which he had borrow ed from the village schoolmaster. It must have been a book on chemistry, for there were mysterious words and characters in it gypsum, silica, alum ina, carbon, etc. 1 used to look at him, then at the signs, and think to myselt, I don't know, but there is certainly something queer about the boy. Why don't he read some interesting story book, or borrow Shakespeare, like my older sis ters, and read that on the sly as they do. I had learned a sense of honor from the boys, aud I never told my father of the readings (in their various characters), either of my sisters or my brothers. I think there was a mis take here; my father was a.i intelli gent man, and if he had taken the trou ble to look into the different disjiosi tions, tastes and habits of his children, my brother Dan. probably might have been encouraged in his peculiar pro pensity to investigate into the deep mysteries of chemistry and science. But, to cut the story short, my broth er surprised my father one day by showing him a letter from a well-known professor in an experimental college offering him a salary, which enlarged my fathers eyes in more senses than one. It was Dan. who became thecom fort of my father's declining years, and who was made the administrator of his estate. It was Dan. who closed my father's eyes, and received the dying charge to help my mother control the younger children, and be always tender with his sisters, a commission most tenderly fulfilled. One Hundred Tears Ag. One hundred years ago not a pound of coal, not a cubic foot of illuminating gas bad been burned in this country. Xo iron stoves were used, and no con trivance for economizing heat was em ployed until Dr. Franklin invented the iron-framed fire-place, which still bears his name. All the cooking and warm ing in town and country were done by the aid of fire, kindled in the brick ev en or on the hearth. Pine knots or tal low candles furnished the lights for the long winter nights, and sanded floors supplied the place of rugs and carpets. The water used for household purposes was drawn from deep wells by the creaking sweep. Xo form of pump was used in this country, so far as we can learn, until after the commencement of the present century. There were no friction matches in those early days, by the aid of which a fire could be easi ly kindled; and if the fire "went out on the hearth" over night, and the tinder was damp so that the sparks would not catch,' the alternative was prevented of wandering through the snow mile or so to borrow a brand of a neighbor. Only one room in any house was warm, unless some of the family were ill ; in all the rest the tem perature was at zero many nights in the winter. The men and women of a hundred years ago endressed and went to their beds' in a temperature colder than ' that of our modern barns and wood-sheds and they never complained. The" Xw 'Hampshire State Fait will be held at Manchester, October 7, 8, 9 and 10.., , t ' The debt of - the United States on the 1st of March was estimated at f 1,063,037,129. A Smart Bay. On one of the warm days of last week a young man neatly dresssed, and with a pale, Interesting countenance, knock ed modestly at the back door of Mr. Covllle's residence, and on It being opened to him, announced to Mrs. Co ville that he had horseradish to sell. Mr. Co ville himself had just completed a light breakfast, with no appetite to wait upon it, and the prospect of that excellent restorer of the nerves of the stomach horseradish, was welcome in deed. The young man sold tbe article at thirty cents a pint, or fifty cents a quart nicely grated, and ready for the table. Mrs. Coville thought a pint would do, but Mr. Coville reasoned that there might not be another chance to get horseradish for a month or more, and ordered a quart, The young man was supplied with a bottle to put the article in, and proceeded to do It. It was a slow and tedious process, as the neck of the bottle was small ; and then the stirring up and prodding of the stimulant excited the nerves of the nose of the dealer to a degree that was painful. He made the most dreadful grimaces, and occasionally would draw up one leg in a paroxysm of sensation, and shrilly ejaculated "Jimmyneddy I" "Pretty strong, eh?" observed Mr. Coville, approvingly. 'I should say it was," sobbed the young man, aud again one leg went op, and he pressed his eyes with the sleeve of his coat, and was very miserable. Mr. Coville paid the fifty cents, and observing to his wife that now be would eat something, went dowu to the store. At dinner, the horseradish, in con junction with boiled corned beef, formed a tempting spectacle to the tired man. Remembering the contortlors of the dealer. Mr. Coville approached the stimulant with great caution. It was full five niinuies before he actually comprehended that he was trying to escort boiled beef into his system with an inferior article of ground turnip. It was a cruel swindle, but Mr. Co ville was not tbe only victim. It had swept through the whole village aud taken in four-fifths of our citizens in its awful clutch. Toward night the excitement was very great. Places of business were closed, the bells rung, and the fire department called out. But the young man with the horse radish leg was not found. It is to be regretted that his wares did not possess his smartness. A Chinese Tea Plantation. Breakfast over, we jumped ashore again, and, desiring to conduct our sight-seeing systematically, started for the field.;. First we walked to the foot of a hill a little distance off, where some men in short cotton trousers and jackets were laying out a new planta tion. The ground was accurately marked off, and in one place the little plants, only an inch or two in height, were just showing above the ground. lu another, the seeds little round balls they looked like were being planted in the rows. Passing another field, where some men were at work with their hoes in true Chinese style, stop ping every few moments to smoke their pipes, we came at last to where the plants had attained some size and the actual picking was going on. The plants themselves were from two to six feet high, according to age, and from related cuttings down hail grown into dense masses of small twigs. Many oi them were covered with little white flowers, somewhat similar to the jasmine and seeds inclosed in a casing not unlike that of the hazelnut, but thinner aud full of oil. Charley thought they look ed like little laurel bushes; to me, those that had been well picked were not un like huckleberry bushes, only the leaves were, of course, a much darker green. The first picking, usually in April, is when the leaves are very young and tender, commanding a much higher price than those subsequently plucked. The second !s a month later, when they have attained maturity ; and as un pro pitious weather would be likely to ruin them, great expedition is used iu get ting in the crop the entire population turning out to assist. A third, and even a fourth, follows; but the quality rapidly deteriorates, aud but a small proportion of these lat pickings is pre pared for export. The plantations were filled with a merry crevd, composed principally of women aud children, all engaged in stripping the hushes as rapidly as pos sible, yet with great care aud dexterity, so as not to bruise the leaves. They looked up from their work and screamed to each other in their harsh guttural tones, casting glances of astonishment at the barbarian".' Following some of the coolies, who w ith filled bags were trudging off to the curing-house, we saw the most interesting operation of all. nere, at least thirty young girls were engaged in assorting the leaves, picking out all the dead and yellow ones and preparing them for the hands of the rollers and firers. Our entrance excited quite a commotion among the damsels, as we were probably the first barbarians they had seen, and we had the reputation of living entirely on fat babies. A word from Akong, who had Joined us, re-assured them, and in a few minutes Charlie was airing his little stock of Chinese, more, I thought, to their amusement then their edification. Leaving this room we w ent into another where the coring was in progress. On one side extended long furnace built of bricks, with large iron pans placed at equal distances, and heated by char coal fires below. Into these pans leaves by the basketful were poured, stirred rapidly for-a few minutes, and then re moved to large bamboo frames, where they were rolled and kneaded until all the green juice was freed. They were then scattered loosely in large, flat bas kets, and placed under the sun to dry. Subsequently,' the leaves were again carried to the furnaces and exposed to a gentle heat, until they curled and twist ed themselves Into the shapes so familiar to you all. Some of the finer kinds often prepared for exportation are rolled over by hand before being fired. The great object appears to be to prevent the leaf from breaking; hence, in the commoner kinds and those intended for home consumption, which do not re ceive the same care, the leaves are found to be very much broken. In fact, the preparation of this latter sort is very simple; a mere drying in the snn after which it presents a dry, broken appearance, like autumn leaves. Jomsuuth. A Peabody farmer had sold a Lynn man a load of pine wood, but on his way thither had lost the piece of brown pacr that contained the address. lie bad searched for him at the postoflice, city hall, and in a dozen bar-rooms, but was unable to find him, and was on the point of returning home when he saw an intelligent-looking individual standing on the corner of Broad and Atlantic streets to whom he said : "I sold this load of wood to a man here in Lynn and I can't think of bis name if I should go to Halifax." "Common name, Is it?" inquired the man as though he would like to help him out of the difficulty. "Yes, very common ; heard it a thou sand times," replied the farmer, knit ting his eyebrows." "Breed?" suggested the man. The farmer shook his head. "Joues?" "Xo, that's not the name. Let me see who was it that built the ark?" asked the farmer, leaning on his whip handle. "Eph. Horn." "That's not the name. Let me see who was it that discovered America9" "Victoria C. Woodhull." "Xo," replied the farmer. "It's funny, he continued, "that I can't think of his name. I know it just as well as I know my own. What is that fellow's name that they call 'The Father of his country ?" "John Morrissey." "Taint him. Who is that big fellow in Congress w hat's been kicked out of the Cabinet for stealing so much money?" "Sitting Bull." "That's not the mau I'm looking for. Who was it that built the first steam ship?" "Charles Francis Adams." "Well," said the man with the wood, "I might as well give It up. Much obliged to you for your kindness," he added starting off. "Wasn't it George Francis Train?" asked the mau as if engaged in deep meditation. "Xo," replied the farmer, "it's some of those fellow's names, but that's not exactly it. Who was it that says we folks all come from the ape ?" . "John Smith." "That's the man I'm looking for," said the farmer, tipping his hat on the back of his head, and taking a fresh chew of tobacco. "Where does he live?" "I'm he," said the man, and the two went down the street together, while the horse with the wood followed on behind. Dried Apples. A few days ago a younglady resolved to show some of her knowledge of cooking. Dried apples, or "snitz," came nnder her immediate attention and there was a pound of them. These she emptied into a half gallon crock, poured water in upon them and placed them upon the stove. Xot long after, while attending to other matters, her attention was drawn to the "snitz." They were trying to get out of the crock, and many of them did get out. This surprised her somewhat, but, con cluding that there were too many in the crock for comfort she "dipped" a lot of them out. Xot long thereafter she discovered that more of them want ed to get out of "hot water." Thinking it would beunwise to let soinany escape, she claped a lid over the top of the crock and covered it with a brick. She, of course, thought she had the "snitz" imprisoned beyond escape; but she de ceived herself in giving credence to that thought. This, however, was not her fault, for she possessed no know ledge whatever respecting the expan sive qualities of "snitz." She thought she had things fixed, but the "anl:z" thought otherwise, and a loud noise soon announced that something had happened. The cook's ear told ber quite distinctly where the noise came from, and her eyes corroborated the fact. In brief, the "snlti" had kicked out the bottom of the crock an. were crawling all over the stove in quest of dry weather. This was too much for the new cook's patience, although it was only her tirsr effort at stewing dried apples. She didn't know what to do toward saving the lively nutritious, food and stood, hesitating. But she hesitated too long, and by the time she was able to collect her sensei the 'snitz" were not only spread all over the stove, but occupied almost every square inch of the floor, thereby illustrating the fact that one pound of dried apples, well watered, can grow rapidly to an aston ishing size. Eccentricity of One of Mar's Mooua. ' An explanation of the remarkable speed of one of the newly discovered moons of Mars is undoubtedly needed. The trouble wi'h this satellite is that it goes around its primary about three times as fast as the latter revolves on its axis. Unless the circumstance can be specifically explained, we must bid adieu to the nebular hypothesis, which very few astronomers would be willing to do at present. Professor Doolittle, of the Coast Survey, has recently urg ed, as a satisfactory explanation, a the ory to the effect that the little moon has hail its orbit shortened by the im pact of meteorites. But no evidence is brought forward to prove that the meteors of the early ages of the solar system were so strikingly numerous. If they were, would tbey not have left their mark in the most ancient strata of our own planet? Possibly, however, this new theory may strengthen an old er one that latterly has been lost sight f, which explains the cup-like cavities in the surface of tbe moon by suppos ing that they were made by great aor lites falling into our satellites while yet it was of a pasty consistence. - I English Serraila, English servants are really what Thackeray has pictured them the very caricatures, so to speak, of their mas ters. ; They have their social status among themselves, and the servant of a Duke would no more think of associat ing with the servants of a small trades man than the Duke himself would contemplate hobaobbing with the shop keeper. The servants of these great families are accustomed to have for their own use a convenient and com fortable apartment called the ''servants' ball," a parlor, in fact, where they sit and read, or perform light and clean duties and wait in readiness to be rung for; and they will not enter a service where such a room is not provided for them, as they consider that such a house cannot ou occupied by a gentle man. To the American idea it seems odd to know that these servants also re quire servants to wait upon them; but how could it be otherwise? Take the case of a footman who waits at table, opeus the front door, and answers my lady's bell in the drawing-room. An elegant looking tall fellow, fresh from his daily morning bath, his linen speck less as a baby's powder-puff, his silken hose drawn as neatly as a ballet- dancer's tights, his hair powdered, his hands gloved, his livery a mass of gold lace and delicate-hued cloth or plush, and which cost perhaps two or three hundred dollars, how can such an ex quisite do dirty work, even for himself? Yet, that be should be an exquisite is an imperative requirement in a house hold where life is conducted on a scale of sustained magnificence which never flags, never swerve , for an hour from its high standard of princely splendor. Certainly, much might be written to flagellate tills system ; and for the Fleet street penny-a-liner or even the bril liant but impecunious satirist, Thacke ray denunciation, scorn aud contempt is always easy written. From the moral standpoint of the time equality, social and political, of man and man, and the real wickedness of caste superiority, the whwle social fabric of monarchical governments is wrong; yet, so far as the fluckyism and sham aristocracy is concerned, I have seen as much pretenston In that way in America it was laughable, too, for there the flunky neither exhibits obsequious ness nor is animated by its spirit; neither Is tbe employer an aristocrat who feele he has inherited vast posses sions by the direct intention and ar rangement of the Divine power itself. This lhe English nobleman believes, ana in that belief his servant acquiesces. Stage Traditions. It was long the custom of the stage to intrust comic actors with such charac ters as Poloniut, Shytock, the Witrhes in Macbeth, and the Lord Mayor in Rich ard the Third. Garrick made credit able efl'orts to have P-doniut interpreted after a more dignified fashion, and per suaded Woodward, on the occasion of his benefit, to appear in the part, and play with gravity. The result was dis appointing, however, "so little was the audience pleased with Woodward, or Woodward with himself, that he never after attempted Poloniiu." Even in the theatre of to-day, although there has been decided reform in this respect, there may be often seen players of fo ni'H unduly anxious to lie comical. The "Merchant of Venice" has been adapted or mutilated by Lord Lans downe in 1701, and as "The Jew of Venice" had kppt possession of the stage until 1MI, when Macklin revived the original play, and endowed Shylcxk with the gravity and dignity that are his prom-r attributes. In the hands of the low comedian, Doggot, Griffin, and Anthony Aston, the Shylnck of Lord Lansdowne's adaptation had been a verv ridiculous figure; but this comic treatment of the character hail so amused and gratified the public, that much doubt was expressed at the pru dence of Macklin's reform. The actors, alwavs timid about innovation, declared he would soil the performance; Quint who was to play Antonio, told him he would be hissed off the stage for his presumption ; Fleetwood, the manager, urged him to abandon the public. Mack lin held firm, however; during re hearsal he simply repeated the speeches of the character, without disclosing by look or tone, or gesture, the manner in which he designed to act it by night. He was most anxious as to the result ; he was sure he was right; but he was not sure that he could persuade his au dience to think so.. When he entered, not a hand moved to encourage him. But after his first scene, the applause was enthusiastic, his success was as sured. Another stage tradition of some en durance related to the performance of Portin. When Mrs. dive played this part, she reduced the trial scene to bur lesque, by introducing mimicry of some well-known lawyer, the audience by no mean disapproving, but even applaud ing warmly. For a time, the Portias who succeeded her were required to re spect the traditions of her impersona tion. It was, Indeed, almost as difllcult to suppress the low-comedy. Po'tia as the low-comedy Shylock. A comic. Lord JTt.or in "Richard the Third," is said to have much gratified George the Second, whose kuowledge of English was imperfect, and whose tastes were of an unrefined sort. Indifferent as to the Richard of the night, the king de sired to see more of the comic Lord Mayor, who appears but once or twice in the course of the tragedy, ami is quite a subordinate character. Garrick had contemplated appearing in the Cupper Captain, an admirable character, in the comedy of "Rule a Wife and Have a-Wife;" but in one of the scenes, tradition required of the Copper Captain a peal of laughter, and this Garrick found himself u.iable to accomplish satisfactorily. There was no absolute reason for the laugh, it was not necessary to the performance, it was merely a piece of stage effect ; but it was felt that the audience would ex pect it. and would be disappointed at not obtaining it. Woodward, was famous for his laugh. So Garrick, after repeated rehearsals, abandoned the part. A stage tradition long Interfered with the performance of "Venice Preserved." When Pierre, challenging the conspira tors, addressed one of them in these terms : O, thon with that lean, wi hf red, wrek-hel face! it was usoal for an actor "of a most un fortunate figure, with a pale counte nance," his sword half-drawn, to ad vance and confront his accuser, the au dience the while laughing heartily. A White Mountain Storm. On the Uth of January, the little colony of weather observers on Mount Washington went through a terrible experience. The morning of the 10th was beautiful, but It began to grow cold in the afternoon, and soon all around was an ocean of frozen air. By noon the next day the storm had become so violent and the ice and sleet drifted so frightfully that eight panes of glass were broken, rendering the adjustment of the storm shutters a work of unusual danger and difficulty. The timbers creaked and strained, and such was the deafening roar of the tempest and the rattling of the ice against the building that it was impossible to be heard when calling at the top of the voice at a yard's distance. The record showed that dur ing the night the wind blew thirty-five miles more rapidly than ever experi enced on Mount Washington and the highest velocity in the world. The drop was from 1S6 miles per hour to ten in five hours. At 9 o'clock the temperature was quite moderate, and observations could be taken out side. During the storm, which lasted twenty hours, the barometer fell 1.130 inches, the greatest change ever ob served since the station was established there. The narrator likened the storm to a gale at sea. There would be a lull for a few seconds, then a terrific roar and rush of ice and snow and sleet against the building which threatened its existence. While the gale was at its highest oint of fury the men pre pared themselves for the worst. The unusual severity of the storm led thetn to believe that the little building in whieh they were stationed would be raised from its foundations aud sent spinning into Tuckermau's ravine or the yawning gulf below. Each man wrapped himself tightly in furs and blankets. The ropes and chains were made doubly secure and every pre caution taken to guard against accident. The supposition is that the velocity of the wind at one time was greater than that given, being, according to the opinion of the ofllcer, up to 200 miles an hour. In exposing the ane mometer the danger was so great that the exact figures could not be obtained. The quantity of snow, sleet and hail which fell during the twenty hours of the storm equaled 2.S9 inches of water. The cold was so intense that a basin ol water, within two feet of the fire, was frozen and the men hail the utmost difficulty In keeping themselves from freezing to death. The officers speak of their experiences wit'.i a shudder. The violence of the storm is unparal leled in the history of the service. The highest velocity ever reached before was 1.11 miles iu 1S71. A Bunania ttneen. Mrs. T. P. Bell, of San Francisco, is a native of Boston, about twenty-eiht years of age, and the wife of Mr. Bell, one of the directors of the Bank of California. He is also largely inter ested in silver mines wi'h Flood, O'Brien and Mackey and others, and is said to have an income of $'0, 000 a week. Mrs. Bell has the largest and most costly collection of gems owned by any one lady in the United States. There is a stomacher and chat elaine of diamonds that is perfectly be wildering to look upon. In the golden belt alone are " diamonds. The chat elaine is coniiosed of stars and cres cents of exquisite workmanship de scending to the bottom of the skirt. It contains 1,073 diamonds. A tiara of diamonds is fashioned into crosses, with sue huge black pearl in the cen tre that alone cost f.'i.Oufl. There are two armlets with star pendants of dia monds to match the stomacher, each containing fifty large stones. Two bracelet matching the last named arti cle contain gems of the purest water, weighing from two to four carats each. A necklace of huge stones and star pen dant cost f 7,000. The central "spark" weighs ten carats, and other stoues weigh from three to eight carats each. Xone are of les weight than three carats. There are just ilO diamonds in this trifling article of adornment. A large emerald and diamond necklace of magnificent workmanship, has 2"0 large diamonds and an equal number of emeralds. There are large diamond and emerald ear-drops to match the above. Bracelets of diamonds and em eralds complete this set. An article of adornment that would make halt of the fair sex sigh with envy is a coral and diamond necklace. The coral is of a fine pink hue, aud the diamonds are of a large size and magnificent bril. liancy, attaining a striking and dazzling contrast. Eardrops and two bracelets of the same complete the set. A but terfly hair adornment Jias the body of the insect composed of a fine long pearl of yellowish w hite. Pearls, sapphires, rubies and emeralds compose the wing. There Is a second butterfly hair adorn ment. A fine, large opal of magnificent colors compose the body, while the wings are made of diamonds, pearls and rubies, arranged to represent the natu ral colors. A vinaigrette of solid Roman gold has a solitaire diamond in the cen tre, resembling the fair-sized calcium light. In this superb collection are such trifles as two solitaire eardrops, weighing eleven and a half carats each, which cost I.'jO.OOO. A chatelaine watch set in gold with turqio&e, diamonds and rubies; four magnificent diamond and sapphire rings ; aud two large diamond star shoe buckles to match tbe necklace. The total value of this fortune in jewels. U 50,000.- - - Hunting Wild Hones. The wild horse can run away from a man; but this protection fails at times. The horse-catchers or "vaqueros" as they are called are famous riders, and to see them capture a wild mustang is better than to go to a circus. The va quero puts a Spanish saddle on a tame horse, and starts out to see what he can find. In front, on the high pommel of the saddle, he hangs in large coils a leather rope, about a hundred feet long, and called a lasso. It is made of strips of raw hide, braided by hand into a smooth, hard and very pretty rope. One end is secured to the saddle, and the other end has a slip-knot making a sliding noose. The vaquero has not long to wait, for there are droves of horses cantering or walking about over the swells and hollows of the prairie, with here and there a smaller group looking on, or watching a battle between two horses who wish to be captains of their bands or companies. Presently, there is a strange sound of tramping hoofs, like the sound of a squadron of cavalry, ex cept that it has a grand, wild rush aud swing such as no cavalry ever had, and a cloud of dark heads rises over a swell of the land. The leader sees the va qnero and he halts suddenly, and the others pull up in a confused crowd, and toss their heads and sniff the air, as if they scented danger near. The leader does not like the looks of things, and turns and canters slowly away, follow ed by all tbe rest, tramping in confu sion through the yellow grass and wild barley. Presently they become fright ened, and away they li y in a dusty thrjng. The vaquero's horse seems to think his chance has come, and he pricks up his ears, and is eager for the glorious fun of a dash after the mustangs. Away they go pell-mell, iu a panic, and the tame horse galloping sw iftly after them. iHiwn they tumble some knocked over in the confusion, snorting and flinging great flecks of foam from their dilated nostrils, trampling over each other iu mad haste, each for himself, and the American horse sweeping after, them. Xow the vaquero stands up in his sad dle, and the lass swings round and round in a circle over his head. Swish ! It sings through the air with a whir ring sound, and ojiens out in great rings, while the loop spreads wider and ider, and at last drops plump over the head of a mustang. The vaquero's horse pulls up with a sudden halt, and sinks back on his haunches, and braces bis fore feet out in front. Ah! How the dust flies! The mustang is fast, held by the sh-knot, aud he rears up and plunges in frantic terror. The rope strains terribly, but the vaquero watches his chances, and takes iu the rope every time it slackens. It is of no use! The joor mustang is hard and fast. Perhaps another rider comes up aud flings another lasso over bis head, then they ride round him, and the mus tang is twisted aud tangled in the ropes till he can hardly move. He falls, and rolls, and kicks furiously, and all in vain. Panting, exhausted and comjuor- ed, he at last submits to his fate. His free days are over, and he seems to know it. A few more struggles, and he recognizes that man is his master, and, perhaps, inone ortwodays he sub mits to a bit iu his mouth, and becomes a tame horse for the rest of his life. If, by any chance, he escapes before he is broken in, and runs away to join his wild companions, he seems never to forget that terrible l;u-so,and if he sees the vaquero again, he w ill stand tremb ling aud frightened, too much terrified to even run awav. Washington's Strategy. Iu the month of July, 1777, the American army was at Middlebrnok. X. J. Generel Howe, with the main body of the British army, held Xew York, and it was known that Burgoyne was coming down the Hudson with a heavy force. An English fleet lay in Xew York bay, and toward the middle of the month (July) it was reported to Washington that an unusual movement was being made on the w ater. He was uneasy. It was a critical period. A certain movement he much desired to make, and in order to make it success fully not only must the utmost secresy be preserved, but, if possible, the atten tion of the enemy must be drawn in another direction. Finally he prepar ed a despatch of seemingly great im portance, directed It to General Israel Putnam, which he proposed to forward by an honest Vermont soldier. The soldier was directed to don the garb of a common farm laborer and to then re port to the headquarters of the Commander-in-chief, which hedid. Admit ted to Washington's presence, he was directed to takeoff one of his heavy shoes. A shoemaker was present with his kit of tools, who took tbe shoe in hand, and very soon had the despatch pegged up between the two soles. When the soldier, w ho had w itnessed the operation, bad put on his shoe again, Washington told him what he was to do. He was simpiy to deliver that shoe to General Putnam at a certain canton ment between Princeton and the Hud son, and he was to make his way through the Itamapo Pass. 'But, General, cried the man in amaze, 'I can reach General Putnam just as quickly by an other route. Think of the Cow Boys and the Tories in that pass. I shall be surely captured. 'My good man,' said the Commander-in-chief, betraying not a particle of anger, 'I do not require you to think, but simply to act aud obey. If you fear to go by that route I will send another in your place. I know the danger.' 'Xo, General, I will go. And the man went; and was carj tared as Washington had known he must be; and the enemy, keenly on the alert, found the despatch, for the hid ing place between the soles of the shoe was an old device found it, and the contents of that despatch led General Howe npon a false trail lonjr enough to 1 enable Geueral Washington to accom plish the purpose he had in view.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers