13. F. SCIIWEIER. THE C02rSTITUTI0ir-THE MIOU-AID THE EJTTOECEMEIIT OF THE LAWS. Editor and Proprietor. VOL. XXXIII. MIFFLINTOWN, JUNIATA COUNTY, PENXA., WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 15, 1S79. NO. :. AN AUTUMN RAYELE. Tut but dim o'erahadow'd day, WLUe only transient gleams Of sunbeams o'er tbe hilltop play. And mint-like kiss tbe stream. I've wauder'd through tbe woodlands vide. Where fern and lichen grow ; I've climbed tbe mountain' sloping aide, Where red tea-berries glow. My hands with forest gems are tiU'd. Mt arms with tiuttd sprays ; Mr soul ia.withjtbat pleaanre thrill'd, Which nature wakts always. Yet. still the sky is oven-ast, Tbe blue all drap'd with gray ; The sun set n brooding o'er the past As night I roods over da. Mayhap tbe season feels the woes A suffering people beats. And with tear dripping eyelid ahows The sense of gloom she shares ! The Faithful Guest. There was something, I forget what, to take grandfather and grandmother away from home one day in October of the year I lived with them in Bum's Hollow. It may have been a funeral, or some religious meeting, for they both drove ofl' dressed in their tiest in the gig, with old Ajax harnessed to it; and after I had tucked in grandma's iron gray silk skirt and ran back to the house for grandpa's spectacles, and had seen the gig vanish in the distance, I felt lonely. Burn's Hollow was a lone some place at atl times, and the hand some, rambling mansion, which might have sheltered a regiment, had a ghostly air about it, when one wan dered through the upper rooms alone. There w ere but two servants in the kitchen. Hannah Cakes and the Irish lad Anthony. I heard them laughing merrily together, for, though Hannah was an old woman, she was full of fun, and in five minutes the door opened and Hannah came in with the tray. " 1'lease miss," said she, as she set down, "mav I run over to Maplcton to-night? My sister's daughter had boy last night, they say, and I want to "see it nat'rallv it's the first I ever had of grand-niece or nephew." " Who brought the news," I asked "Anthony, miss," said Hannah. "He met George that's my niece's husband when he w as out after the cow , stray ing asshe'alwavs is. and told him to tell Hannah 'she's a grand-aunt." "You may go," I said, "but don't stay late. Grandpa and grandma may be awav all nisrlit and I feel nervous. To be sure, there's Anthony, but never relv on him. Be certain not to nay '.ate." 1 related this injunction with a sort of frignt stealing over me a presentiment of evil, I might say and something prompted me to add Be back by nine." Why. I cannot say; but I felt as if by nine 1 should be in some peculiar danger. Hannah promised, ana after doing all I required, went awav, and I heard her heavy shoes on the garden walk out side. Early as it was. I had dropped the curtains and lighted the wax candles on the mantel, and I sat long over my tea, finding a certain companionship in it, as women of all ages will. I sat thus a long time, and was star tied from mv reverie by a rap at the door a timid sort of a rap so that knew at once that it was not a member of the house nor an intimate friend waited, expecting Anthony to open the door, but finding he did not, went to it myself. It had grown auite dark, and the moon rose lat-; that night. At first I could ouly make out a crouching figure at the bottom of the porch. But when 1 spoke it advanced, and by the light of the hail lamp I saw a black man had always had a sort of fear of a ne gro, and instinctively shrunk away, but as I did so, he said in a husky whisper, "This is Massa Morton's, isn't it?" Yes," I replied ; " but grandfather is out." I retreated as he advanced. "Please Miss." said he, "Judge B. sent me here. He said massa 'ml help me on. Let me stay here a night, Miss. I's trabbeled five days since I left him. Hidin' like. I's awful hungry; 'pears like I'd drop, and ole massa's arter me. Foa de lob of heaben, Miss, let me hide somewhere, and gib me jes' a crust. Massa Morton :ud help me, and its kept nie up. Missus will, 1 know." 1 knew that grandfather had given succor to some of these poor w retches before ; but i felt that I might be wrong by admitting a stranger m his absence. Caution and pity struggled within me. At last I said: "You have a note from the Judge, I suppose?" "I had some writin' on a paper," said the man, "but I's lost it de night, it rained so. Ah! Miss, I's telling de truf Judge sent me, as sure as I's a sinner. I's beea helped along so far, and 'pears like I get to Canady. Can't go buck noways. Wife's and young uns dare. Got c'ear a year ago. Miss, I'll pray for you ebry day of my life ef you'll be so good to nie. Tank you, Miss." For somehow when he spoke of wife and children I had stepiied back and let him in. It was the back hall door to which the rap had come, and the kitchen was close at hand. I led him thither. When I saw how worn he was, how wretched, how his eyes glistened, and how under his rough blue shirt his heart beat so that you could count the pulses, I forgot my caution. 1 brought out cold meat and bread, drew a mug of cider, and spread them on the table. The negro ate, and I left him to find Anthony, to whom I intended to give directions for his lodgiug throughout the night. To my surprise, Anthony, wm no w here to be found. Hannah must have taken hire with her across the lonely road to Mapleton It was natural, but I felt angry, Yet I longed for Hannah's return and listened very anxiously until the clock struck nine. Then, instead of her footsteps, I beard the patter of raindrops and the rumbling thunder and looking out saw that a heavv storm was coming on. Now,certaiuly, grandpa and grandma would not come, and Hannah, waitin for the storm to pass, would not be here for hours. However, my fear of the negro was quite gone, and I felt certain pride in conducting myself bravely under these trving circum stance. Accordingly I went upstairs, found in the attic sundry pillows and bolsters. and carried them kitchen ward. " Here," said I, " make yourself bed on the settee yonder, and be easy for the night. Xo one will follow you in such a terrible storm as this, and no doubt, grandpa will assist you when he returns home. Good night." "Good night, and God Dless you Miss," still sjieaking in a very husky w hisper. And so I left him. But I did not go up stairs to my bed room. I intended for that night to re main dressed, and sit up in grandpa'; arm-chair, with candles and a book for company. Therefore I locked the door, took the most comfortable position, and opening a volume, composed myself to read. Kcadiug, 1 fell a-leep. How long I slept I cannot tell. I was awakened by a low sound like the prying of a chisel At first it mixed with mv dream so completely that I took no heed of it but at last I understood that some one was at work iiHn the lock of a door, I sat perfectly motionless, the blood curdling in my veins, and still chip, chip, chip, went the terrible little in strument, until at last I knew whence the sound came. Back of the sitting-room was grand pa's study. There, in a great old-fash toned safe, were stored the family plate, grandma's jewelry, and sundry sums of money and valuable papers, The safe itself stood in a closet recess and at the closet the thief was now at work. The thief ah ! without doubt the negro whom I had fed and sheltered. Perhaps the next act would be to nvirder me if I listened. The storm was still raging; but though the road lonely, better that than this house with such company. I couldn't save my grandfather's property, but I could save my own life. I crept across the room and into the hall and to tbe door. There, softly as I could, I unfastened the bars and bolts, but alas! one was above my reach. I waited and listened. Then I moved a hi.ll chair to the spot and climbed upon it. In doing so I struck my shoulder against the door-post. It was a slight noise, but at that mo ment the chip of the chisel stopped. I heard a gliding foot, and, horror ol horrors, a man came from the study, sprang toward me, and clutched me w ith both hands, holding my arms as in a vise, while he hissed in my ear: "You'd tell, would you? You'd call help? You might better haye slept, you had ; for you see you've got to pay for waking. I'd rather hev let a chick like you off; but you know me now, and I can't let you live." I stared in his face with horror, mingled with an awful surprise; for now that it was close to me I saw, not the negro, out our own hired man, Authony Anthony, whom 1 had sup posed to be miles away with Hannah He was a little more than a youth, and I had given him many a present, ar.d had always treated him kindly I pleaded u ith him kindiy. "Anthony, 1 never did you any harm ; I am young; I am a girl. Don't kill me, Authony. Take the money; don't kill me, for poor grandma's sake, 'You'll tell on me," said Anthony !gedly; "likely I'd be caught. No, I've got to kill you." As he spoke he took his hands from my shoulders, and clutched my throat fiercely. I had time to utter one suffocating shriek; then I was strangling, dying, with sparks in my eyes, and a sound of roaring waters in my ears, and then what had sprung upon my assassin, with the swift silence of a leopard? What had clutched me from behind, and stood over him with something glittering above his heart? The mist cleared away the blurred mist that had gathered over my eyes; as sight returned I saw the negro with his foot upon Anthony's breast. The fugitive whom I had housed and fed had saved my life. Then ten minutes after ten minutes in which but for that poor slave's re presence I wonld have been hurried out of life the rattle of wheels and the tardy feet of old Ajax was heard with out, ami my grandparents were with me. It is needless to say that we were not ungrateful to our preserver; needless, also, to tell Anthony's punishment. It came out during his trial that he had long contemplated the robliery; that the absence of my grandparents appearing to afford an opportunity, he had decoyed Hannah away with a lie, and hid in the study. He knew noth ing of the negro's presence in the bouse, and, being naturally supersti tious, had actually fancies wy protec tor a creature from the other world, and submitted without a struggle. Long ago, so we heard, the slave, a slave no longer, met his wife and chil dren beyond danger, and now that the bonds are broken for all in this free land, doubtless his fears are over, and he sits beside his humble Canadian hearth when eventide comes. A curious case of restitution is mentioned in the Belgian journals. In August last a box containing 18,000 francs worth of securities was stolen from a farm-bouse at Ronquieres, in the Commune of Hainaulc A short time ago the box was found to have been de posited during the night in the garden belonging to the cure of Henripout, who at once banded it over to tbe police It still contained 16,000 francs. Hie Mangosteen. Efforts are said to be making in the East Indies to export to America the delicious fruit known as the mangos- teen, which persons who have visited Ceylon, Java, or the Southeast of Asia must remember to have eaten with plea snre. It is claimed that some plan has been devised to keep the fruit during its long voyage. The mangosteen, native to the Molucca Islands, although grown in many parts of the East, resembles in size and shape an orange. The rind is like that of the pomegranate, but thick er, softer, and Jueier. Green at first, it changes to a dark brown with yellowish spots ; tbe inside, of a rosy hue, being divided by thin partitions into several cells in which the seeds lie, surrounded by a soft succulent pulp, tasting like a combination of grape and strawberry It can be eaten without inconyenieuee in any quantity, and is tha sole fruit which physicians permit their patients to take. Indeed, it is recommended as very wholesome, and has the happy mixture of sour and sweet that is so anietizing as to prevent satiety. The leaves of the tree aie entire, some seven or eight inches long, tapering at the ends, of bright green above, and an olive color beneath, Tne blossom looks like a single rose, and has four dark-red roundish petals. It Is not improbable that the mangosteen might be domesti cated in Florida and Southern Califor nia, since it seems to need only hot weather in order to flourish; and if it could be domesticated, it would be a great additien to our many varieties of delicious fruits. The Day of Old. In the fifteenth century a feud ex isted between the Lord of Argyll and the chieftains of Maclean; the latter were totally subdued by the Camtiells, and Maclean sued for peace, demanding at. the same time, in marriage, the young and beautiful daughterof Argyll. His request was granted, and the lady carried home to the Island of Mull. There she had a son. The Macleans, however, were hostile to this alliance with the Campbells. They swore to desert their chief if they were not suf fered to put his wife to death, with her infant son, who was then at ntirse, that the blood of the Campbells might not succeed to the inheritance of Maclean. Maclean resisted these efforts, fearing the power and vengeance of Argyll, but at length fear for his own life, should lie refuse the demand of his clan, made him yield to their fury, and he only drew from them a promise that they would not shed her blood. One dark winter night she was for-ed into a boat, and, regardless of her cries and lamentations, left upon a barren rock midway between the coast of Mull and Argyll, which at high Water was covered by the sea. As she was about to parish she saw a boat steering its course at some distance; she waved her hand and nttered a feeble cry. She was now on the top of a rock, and the water up to her breast, so that the boat men mistook her for a bird, ihey took her from the rock, and knowing her to be a daughter of Argyll, carried her to the castle of her father. The Earl re warded her deliverers, and decided to keep the circumstances quiet for a tiiae during which he concealed her till he should hear tidings from Mull. Maclean solemnly announced her death to Argyll, and soon came himself with his friends, all in mourning, to condole with the Earl at his castle. Argyll received him also clothed iu black. Maclean was full of lamenta tions the Earl appeared very sorrow ful. A feast was served with great pomp in the hall. Every one took his place, while a seat was left empty on the right of Argyll. The door opened, and they beheld the lady of Maclean enter, superbly dressed, to take her place at the table. Maclean stood for a moment aghast. when, the servants and retainers mak ing a lane for him to pass through the hall to the gate of the castle, the Earl's son, the Lord of Lome, followed and slew- him as he fled. His friends were detained as hostages for the child, who had been preserved by the affection of his nurse. The fair daughter of Argyll was re warded for her sufferings by wedding, with her father's consent, an amiable young noble who adored her, and was mutually beloved. To this young man her father had formerly refused her hand, disposing of her, as a bond of union, to unite the warring clans of Argyll and Maclean. Tristan Da Acunha. The reality of the tales of Juan Fer nandez and the mutineers of the Boun- fail to present half such varied lights and shadows to the brush of the painter and the pen of the poet as the story of Tristan da Acunha. One of these narratives simply recounts the sufferings of an individual sailor, pu- ished for his misdoings, and the other set of ru Alans, who, In the seclusion of the island they Invaded, founded no community, and, even in the most mer ciful acceptation of human law, never sufficiently atoned for their crimes And in all these instances of enforced insular monattcism, real or imaginary, amids the wilds of the ccean, there Is an absence of the heroic, both in persona lity and in action, and an utter absence of that mingled grandeur and tender ness which Black has taught us to ad mire and love so well in his description of the wave-beaten Islands off the coast of Scotland. Nor is there any music in these olden tales. De Foe seems to haye been nearly as deat to tbe wild tones of tbe waves lashing his fanciful seagirt coasts as the fabled genius of the moun tain slopes of Circassla was to the sea nymphs who for nearly 3500 years are said to have haunted the foot of tbe rock which Prometheus was bound. Of classical legends Tristan da Acunha, of course, has none, bat from the day of the first discovery of tbe volcanic islets by the Portuguese navigator, a strange folk lore has been 'woven round their history. Tbe principal island of tbe group of three rises, like Gibraltar, pre cipitously from the dark, deep water of the South Atlantic. It is not pro bable that it was ever before inhabited but when tbe commerce with the Cape of Good Hope began to assume large proportions, although 1,500 miles off tbe direct route, it was often resorted to as a haven of distress by anxious and wind-beaten mariners driven trom their course. On their return from the strange harbor, from which a flight of rude steps hewn in tbe rock leads to the loghouse called the citadel of the island they told wonderful tales of a voice which seemed to sound from beneath their leet, like the voice of some of tbe oracles of old front the very bowels of the earth. To their superstitions ears these mystic sounds were full of mar velous portent; there was scarcely a port or a seacoast of Christendom in which weird stories were not told of the surf-beaten rocks standing alone in mid-ocean, like a monolith in Saharah But this strange solitude of these South Atlantic cliffs is not the only feature which should consecrate them to tbe genius of romance. Wonderfully enough, they are wedded, indirectly perhaps, to the memory of a great con queror. Vtbeii Napoleon was sent to Su Helena the islands were occupied by a detachment or f.ngilsh mariners under the command of one Coporal Glass. There were but few ot them, sufficient, however, to form a comma nity, and at last the British government commissioned the corporal as governor- general over the barren spot a house of call for but a few ships wanting water. Twenty-five years ago Glas had about forty men, women and child ren subject to his jurisdiction, and, af fixing his proguberuatorlal signature by a mark, he forwarded a petition to the English government to send out a gentleman who could act as schoolmas ter, or pator, at once. He asked for the due adminhtratlon the rites of bap tism and marriage, and the education of the people. His letter was illiterate, but the government sent out a certain Mr. Taylor. Under his influence the island and its settlers were restored to civili zatlon, but after a residence of three years he petitioned the Englisb govern ment to convey all his parishioners to the cape. There they all died, ba nished, as Zimmerman would say, from the beatitude of soltitude. But the waste places of the remote isles of ocean were uot long left untrodden by human foot-steps. A new colony left by a pas sing ship occupied the deseru-d cottages and the adandoned lands. According to the latest accounts their Isolation has not deprived them of human effection, or the paucity of their numbers of manly courage. In their rescue of the survivors of the Mabel Clarke, these few islander, less than a dozen and half in number, have proved themselves worthy of all the courage of their blood, more ennobled in this that there was no one to applaud them, no one in au thority to direct them, no one to drill them into discipline. After reading the account of the individual courage, the pluck and the heroism of these few islanders, it will be difficult, if not Im possible, for the most pronounced jicssi- mlst to sustain any argument pointing to the degeneray of the race. Mr. DeUaithe. Joke. Mr. DeBartbe is a great tobacco fiend Likewise a wit. He stopped into a gro cery store on day last week, and pur chased a paper of tobacco. He had a live cent piece up his sleeve. He opened the paper in the presence of the proprietor, and made believe to take the piece out of the tobacvo. "Look w hat I found," said D. B. "Yaas, dot's all reicht; dot's a pri zes." ''I don't like to keep it because it Is not mine," said D. 11. "Oh, yaas, dot's all reicht; dey puts dot id for a brizes." "Like a lottery?" "All same like loddery dickets," re sponded the Teuton. IK-Bart he went out dancing, as if he was pleased ever so much at being so fortunate. Next day be entered again and did the same trick. This time it was a quarter that he found. The German began to smell a mice. On the third day D. B. came in for his customary fine cut. When he opened the paT he slipped a gold dollar into the tobac co. "Oh. look here," said be, "I've found a gold dollar." IH-Barlhe had told his friends what he meant to do, and they had told the groceryman. He was ready for I). B. "Dot ain't a golt dollai. I kess dot must be a dree cent bieces. Let me loog by him. Yaas, dod's so," and he handed the coin back. D. B. danced again, asked the man to have a glass of beer and departed. When lie had worn that dollar in his pocket for a few days the plating came off, and our friend found that the Teuton had been laying for him with a plated three cent piece. The mention of the word '"dollar" to D. B. r ow fills the air with match heads. Going to Law, Two Dutchmen who had built and used in common a small bridge over a stream which ran through their farms, had a dispute concerning some repairs which it required, and one of them po sitively refused to bear any portion of the expense necessary to the purchase of a few planks, finally the aggrieved party went to a neighboring lawyer, and placing f 10 in his hand, said: I'll give you all dish moneys if you'll make Hans do justice tiilt de prldge." How much will it cost to repair It?" asked the honest lawyer. "Not more as five dollar," replied the Dutchman. ' Very well," said the lawyer, pocke ting one of the notes and giving him the other, "take this and go and get the bridge repaired ; 'tis the best course you can take." "Yas," said tbe Dutchman, slowly ; yaas, dat is more better as to quarrel mit Hans;" but as he went along home be shook his head frequently, as if un able after, to see quite clearly how be bad gained anything by going to law. A Surprised Physician. Some time ago, Dr. 1. P. Brown, a very reputable and widely known physician, living on Prospect street, Cincinnati, was called npou to attend a very complicated case of inflammatory rheumatism. Upon arriving at the boose, he found Joseph Kain, a man abont 50 years old, lying in a prostrated and serious condition, with his body seriously affected with tbe painfnl disease. He prescribed for the patient but Kain continued to grow worse, and shortly be was found to be in a very dangerous condition, and the physician concluded to consult with another physician. The two doctors found th patient worse than he bad been the day before, and the family was in great apprehension. The kneea and larger joints were seriously inflamed, aud could not be moved. It was only with very great difficulty that the patient was turned in bed, with tbe aid of three or four persons. The weight of the clothing was so oppressive that means bad to be adopted to keep it from the patient's body. Tbe doctor examined the heart, and found it in a dangerous eondion. It was beating at a rate much above a hundred a minute, and the disease was evidently affecting it. Tbe above is the statement of tbe doctor. "As I left the house the mem bers of the family followed me to the door, and weeping asked me in regard to the prospect of the patient's recov ery. 1 shook my head, saying that be was a very sick man, and that the symptoms were serious. ith many fears 1 left the honse. Early the next morning I returned to the place. Tbe morning was stormy, a drizzling tain having fallen all the latter part of the night. It was just such a morning as an luvaim, sick from rheumatism. wonld find prejudicial to his recovery. My surprise can easily be understood when it is stated that I fonnd my pa tient up and dressed, and sitting in a chair, apparently as well as nsual. I asked him how this was, when he told me the following remarkable stoiy. He had lain in his belple-s condition after my departure the night before and being a very religious man, was thinking over various spiritual sub jects- AH at once he had fallen to say ing over to himself the following pas sage of Scripture, 'Who healeth all thy diseaser He bad then changed, and began to say, 'Who heak-th all my diseases?' He said that be had only said this once or twice, when he was instantly cured and felt that he was as well as ever. He rose from his bed aud diessed himself, aud had been out in tbe rain that morning to do certain chores about tbe bonse and barn. Mr. Kain then began to move hi elbows and knees back and forth in the freest manner, to show that he was as well as ever, and said that it was simply a manifestation of the Holy Ghost. I have no idea whether or not the cure will prove permanent, but so far, it is to me one of the most remarkable thing 1 ever knew or beard of. I have no explanations or comments to make. I have siniplv related the matter as J have seen and beard it, and that is all." Interpreting Urram. "Dreams? Now you've touched a tender spot. Madam, I expect I've had more dreams than any other man in this U. S. A.," said Bijah. ''Well, I've had dreams," she con tinued, as she bent her eyes on the car pet. "I've had such dreams a I never heard tell of, aud being as a woman told me that you could advise me, I've called to talk with you." "Go right ahead on the starboard tack, madam." "There's a man there's a man coui ng to our house, sir," she said, as she partly hid her face. "Comes to read the gas meter, I sup pose. Well, go on." "He comes to see me," she said, giv ing her head an indignant toss, "I might as well own up that my face or form to conversational powers have at tracted him. Judging from hisactious he seemed to love nie." "Does, eh? Has be ever brought you peppermint drops? Has he ever read poetry to you? Have you ever noticed him gaiing at the moon?" "I am satisfied that he loves me," she musingly replied, "and I confess " "That you love him?" She blushed. Which was very, very proper in her. 'Same as ever old, old story end In the usual way no cards," he saH. as he solemnly shifted the cat. "After he left me last night I had a dream," she said. "I dreamed that I was trying to darn a pair of socks with a door key tor a needle and some tele graph wire for yarn. While I was try ing to n-.end the holes I beard a horn blow, and looking out of the window I saw what?" "A fish peddler, of course." "No, sir. I saw a two-horse wagon loaded with coffins ! The dream aw oke me, and I found myself sitting up iu bed. It has worried me ever siuce.and I want to know if you can interpret it." "Madam," began Bijah, as he rose up and smoohed down his head, "you have come to the right man, and at the right time. 1 have never bragged around any on my pawer to interpret dreams, but being it's you I will say that I can knock the spots off any hu man being in this town on the dream business." "And you can tell me the signifi cance of this one?" Than you dreamed of a door key. That's a sign of an accident. Be care ful, madam, and don't hit the clothes line in splitting w ood, and don't go up on a ladder over the door fifteen feet." "I never, never climb a ladder, sir!" "Don't you? So much the better. But be careful how you go down the cellar during the next few weeks.Then you dreamed of telegraph wire.madam. That's another bad sign. Don t go around the back yard barefooted, or you may cut your heel on an old bot- "I go barefooted !" she gasped. "I hope not, madam ; and if you eat any peanuts for a month throw shucks away. Even if they dou't hurt you there is only two per cent, of nourish ment in 'em." She looked at him in amazement, and he kindly went on : "You heard a born blow, and tlntt is a good sign. I've known women who hail struggled with cold feet for eighteen straight years to dream of a horn blow ing, and le erfectly cured in five hours." "Sir!" "mats mo inaUaot, and .1 rejoice from the bottom of my heart at your good luck. Then you dreamed of cof fins. Did you see any figures on em ?' "I don't remember." "Well, I s'pose tne undertaker will put enough figures on 'em, for that matter. To dream of coffins, madam, signifies that you will shortly have an offer." "Is that so?" she softly replied, and she blushed. ''It is, madam. Less than a month ago a woman came to me who had been dreaming of Collins, ami w ithin three yays she had an offer." "And ehe accepted him?" "It was an offer, maiani, to iiurc a woman with the roomytiz salary, $3 per week and found." "Mr. Joy," said the gentle dreamer. as she rose up and made a grab for her train, "I shant go out as a nurse not just yet." "1 wouldn t cither; it s a wery try ing position, particularly where the patient is despondentand imagines that you want to murder her." "Mr. Joy, I'm very much obliged." "TU well 'tis well. Good day." She sailed away, her face as red as a coal, and her nose up, and he sat down and muttered to himself. "Slie believed every word of it up to the 'offer,' and just 'cause I wouldn't lie about it she goes away feeling dis persed and put out. That's the way with 'em oiisartin, onhappy, and on- grateful." The !- of the Mohtaans. Boys who have been fascinated by Cooper's novel of "The Last of the Mohicans," will be glad to know tbat Chiogacb-gnok was a real personage Under the name of Wasaiuapah, be was known about one bnndred and fifty years ago, to all the tribes of the Lenapi, as their fiercest and most Iiowerfal leader. His fate was, how ever, very different from that which the novelist assigns biui. He was the first Indian met if the wilderness by Ranch, tbe Moravian missionary, and was converted by him, and baptized Job, or Tscboop. as the Moravians pronounced it. Job was for awhile subject to backsliding, both into Aichting and drunkenness. One story told of iiuu i tbat being in Philadel phia, one of I'enn's brethren fonnd him sitting in the gutter on High street very drank indeed. "How's this, Tschoopr he said. "I heard thee had joined the Moravian brethren!'' Tscboop gave a knowing wiuk. "So goot! When me in Bethlehem, me brother to Moravians, when me here me brother to the Quakers,'' A reply of which we will umler.-taml the point when we remember that the early Friends were as he.tvy di inkers as feeders. Tscboop, however, afterwards be came a sincere Christian, and was then as zealons and determined a leader for his people in religion as he bad been on the war-patb. He travelled among the Lenapi until he was an old man preaching with a success attained by no white missionary. "This famous red man," testified Bishop Sprantreub, "has a marvellous power and the countenance of a Luther." In thequaint Moravian "God'a Acre," j at Bethlehem, with its rows ot little queer stones sunken flat iu the grass, is one gray with lichen, marked "Tschoop." Beneath lies the fierce last chief of the Mohicans, so Ion a lavorite hero with American young people. l.iiian HUH. A good deal has lately been heard of: the progress of female emancipation iu Russia, but it is soniew hat of a novelty to find the Russian ladies figuring iu the character of duelists.as was the case not long since, with two belles of Pit ger.'k. a well-known watering place on he northern slope of the Caucasus. dispute aroe between the rival beau ties, springi ;ig out of the attentions paid to each in turn by a handsome young cavalry officer quartered in the neighborhood. The quarrel ran so high that one of the Amazons at last dispatched her maid to the other with a formal challenge, which was instant ly accepted. The belligerents met with out second, in a lonely place outside of the tow n, each armed w ith a brace of loaded pistols. Before, however, they had even taken up their respec tive positions, the trembling of the one lady's hand caused her pistol to ex plode prematurely, seudlng a bullet through the dress of the other, who shrieked and fell down iu a swoon. The assailant, frightened out of her wits, flung away her weaMn and rushed to raise the supposed corpse, but her. ungrateful antagonist, recovering her senses as suddenly as she had lost them, clutched her by the hair with one hand, w hile she boxed her ears with the other in the most euergetic style. The firing having now ceased, the battle proceeded hand to hand. Locks of hair, ribbons and shreds of clothing flew in every direction, and but for the timely advent of tnree or tour policemen the affray might have ended like the somewhat singular com bat of.the Kilkenny cats. The military Lothario's only remark, on hearing the story was : "It is lucky tney tool, to claw ing each other, instead of nie. A Farm Stock Ml with 0riches. James Murray has taken his family from Gilbertville, N. Y., to his South African farm or 3700 acres, which Is stocked with 1000 ostriches, and 300 marsofrare blood and pedigree. He finds ostrich raising so profitable, that he recently sold 63 birds at Cape Town for $27,000 and a pound of feathers for $860, or $3 a feather. The difficulty encountered lias been that of batching tbe eggs, artificial Incubators proving unless and the old theory of hatching the eggs in the sand false, but this was finely overcome by watching the birds and separating mates from tbe flock at pairing time, when they took care of their own eggs and young. Putting- the Platter oa fhe Wrong Bark. An old sea captain, well known the days of Havre packets, " who sailed the seas over" for fifty years or more, used to tell that in the early part of his first voyage as captain, when he had but Just turned twenty-one, his cabin boy complained of a lame back. There was a medicine chest aboard, whose contents It was the captain's duty to dispense according to the best of his knowledge and ability. In a shallow drawer at the bottom of the chest were three or four Spanish fly plasters al ready spread tin kid, and one of these the captain decided to apply to the boy's back. It was done, and the little fel low sent to bed. In the morning he was on hand bright and early, but the captain's usual cup of co flee was mi- siug. "Cook isn't up. sir," was the boy's explanation. "Why not?" asked the captain. " Says he can't get up." "Why not?" "Says his back hurts him, sir." " Back. What's the matter with his back?" "The plaster, sir." ' What do you mean ?" exclaimed the captain;"! didn't put the plaster on his back." "No, sir, but I did," whimpered the boy. "You did, you young rascal: howled the captain- jumping from his berth. " hat on earth did you do that for?" "Well, sir," anwered the boy, getting well out of the range of any stray bootjack or other inisniie that might chance to le within the captain's reach, "when I woke up iu the night it hurt me so I had to take it off. 1 he cook was in the next bunk asleep, and I just clapped it on his back. I didn't want to waste the plaster, sir." And he didn't. It worked to jierfection, keeping the poor cook in bed with a sore back over a week; and in the next bunk, keeping him company, was the boy, also with a sore back, but It wasu't the plaster that made it so. A rope's end was a favor ite prescription in those days. Indian Nut Parties in Nevada. Approaching a Nevada mountain a low brushy growth is seen, strangely black in aspect, as though it had been burned. This is a nut pine forest, the bountif ul orchard of the red man. No slope is too steep, none too dry, every situation seems to be gratefully chosen, if only it be sufficiently rocky and firm to afford secure anchorage for the tough, grasping root. It is a sturdy, thickset little tree, usually about fif teen feet high when full grown, and about as broad as high, holding its knotty branches well out in every di rection iu stiff zigzags, but turning them gracefully upward at the ends in rounded bosses. It is pretty generally known that this tree yields edible nuts, bat their importance and excellence as human food is iu'Jnitely greater tli.in is supposed. In fruitful seasons the pine nut crop of Nevada is, perhaps, greater than the wheat crop of Cali fornia, concerning which so much is said and felt throughout the food mar kets of the world. The Indians nlnno appreciate this portion of nature's bounty, and celebrate the harvest time with dancintr and feasting. Inasmuch as the cones require two years to ma ture from the first appearance of the little red loscttes of the fertile flowers, the scarcity or abundance of the crop may be predicted more than a year in advance. Squirrels ahd worms ami Clark crows make baste to begin the barvest. The Indians make ready wit'i their long beating poles ; baskets, bpsr. rags mats are gotten together. The squaws, out among the settlers at ser-, vice, wai-hing and drmlinz, assemble at the family hut, the men leave th. ir ranch woik; all, old and young, are' mounted on ponies, and set off in great glee to the nnt lands, forming caval-: cades curiously pictnresqiie ; fl.imin? : scarfs ami culico skirts streau loosely: over the knotted ponies, usually two fqnaws astride of each, with the small babv midgets bandaged in baskets slung on their backs or balanced upon ttm SiiilitlA luktr vhiin tttA nur H-isLrd ami wutor i-.rs nrniprl from vithor aids i ,1. i. .. t., ..i.. I fashioned lances, angle ont in every di rection. Arrived at some central point already fixed upon, where water and grass are found, the sq'iaws with bas kets, the men with poles, ascend the ridges to the laden trees, followed by the children ; beating begin with loud noise and chatter; the burrs fly right and left, lodging against stones and sage brushes; tbe squaws and children leather them with fine natural gladness; i aniitl-A fitlilmrw arw-.lil v mnrt ffio inv. I fal scene of their labors as the roastiug fires are kindled ; and at night, assem bled in circles as garrulous as jays, the first grand nat feast begins. Suffi cient quantities are thus obtained in a few weeks to last all winter. They al so gather several species of berries and dry them to vary their stores, and a few deer ami grouse are killed on tbe mountains, besides immense numbers of rabbits and hares; but the pine nuts are their main dependence their staff of life, their bread. Anrrdot of Fasirhe. Fouche, the famous French chief of police, was an educated man. and com menced life as a lawyer, but developed a natural taste for intrigue which made him almost a match for Richelieu him self. He rendered snch important ser vices to Napoleon that he gave him the title of Duke of Otranto. He was one of tbe grand promoters of the famous massacre of Lyons and afterwards plotted the rnin of Robsepierre. His life presents a succession of romantic adventures, in which he was often suc cessful and often at fanlt. One of bis favorite tools was tbe notorious Yidocq, chief tbe detective police of Paris, who was successively thief-soldier, desert er, and detective officer. Atter the restoration in 1814, among the titled followers of Napoleon who were most anxious to obtain employ ment at the conrt of Lonis XVIII., none showed more servility and assidu ity than Fonche, Duke of Ortranto, ex ercising all of his famous faculties of intrigue to accomplish his purpose- To this end he finally obtained a private interview with tbe king, when he ex pressed his desire to dedicate his life to his service. Louis replied : "Yon have occupied under Napoleon a situation of great trust, which must have given yon opportunities of know ing everything that passed, and of gaining insight into tiie character of men in public life which could not oc enr to many individnal. Were I to decide to attach you to my person, 1 should exect you to first inform in frankly w hat were the measures' a:d who were the men whom you employed in those days to obtain your inform. tion. I do not allude to my stay at Yerons, or at Mittan I wan then si:r rounded by numerous adherents bur at Hartwell; for instance, were y.ti then well acquainted with what passed under my roof t" "Yes, sire," replied Fonche; "every day the motions of your majesty were duly made known to me." "EhT What T all of my move ments J'' said the king, with apparent surprise. "Eveu so, sire, I was but performing my peculiar duty in spying upon you." Louis seemed much troubled, and placing his hands behind him. h. walked slowly up and down his cabi net as if musing to himself, now ami again sh.iking bis bead thoughtfully. bis eyes all the while bent npon the floor of the apartment. Presently stopping before Fonche, who stood in silence watching the niood of his royal master, he said : Surrounded as I was at Haitwell by trusted friends, who could have be trayed nie t" "Will yonr majesty excuse me upon that point T" said the really disconcert ed. I insist npou your natniug him iin- medi.itely," said the king, promptly. "Sire, you command me to nanii what must wound your majesty's heart." "Seak, sir; it is no novelty for m to find people to have proved unfaith ful." "If yon still command it, then I must own, sire, that I was in correspondence with the Due d'Anmnnt, who was my " "What! De Pienne, who possessed my entire confidence ?" asked the kin. "Sire, it was Ie Pienne." "Well, I must acknowledge," rep'.ied Lonis, with a malicious smile, "he was very poor; he had many excuses, and living is very dear in Enpland." "True, your majesty." "But still, M. Fouche, it was I who dictated to hiiu those letters which you received every week, and I pave him niue out of the eighteen thouseml francs which you so regularly remitted in order to obtain an exact account of what wasTassing in my family !" The astounded Fonche blushed like a woman, but stii! he was afterward j employed by the king. Alfred ttlielridu- -Wakes a Tall, Mr. Alfred Ethelridge is bashful ; he does not deny it. He wishes he wasn't, sometimes, but wishing doesn't seem t- help his ca-e much. Everybody ia Burlington likes him, except the fabler f a voting Iai'.y out on Pond street. With an instinctive knowledge of this old gt ntlcman's feelings, Alfred had forborne to aggravate them and kept ou: of the father's way as much as pos sible, atoning for this apparent neglect by seeing the daughter twice as often. The other afternoon Alfred went up i the steps and rang the bell. The door i upened and Papa stood staring at him, looking a thousand things aud saying nothing. ! Alfred Ethelridge had iievr felt qu.t so lest for language in his lite. : Presently he stood on one foot and re , m irked : "Good afternoon ! "Gottnoon." grunted pap-i, which Is, : ' y interpretation, also good afternoon. '1 ah is er er Miss Lollipop jis your daughter at home?" asked Al j fred, standing ou the outer foot. Yes, sir;' said papa, rather mre ! rhortly than Alfred thought was abso lutely necessary. Ihen nobody said anything for a long time. Presently Alfred E;helridg s'ood on boti iVt, and asked: "Is she in?" "Yes, sir," s:id p-tpa, not budging a step from bis position in the door, anJ looking as if he was dealing w ith a book agent Instead of o:ie of the nicest young men in Burlington. Then Altrcd Ethel ridge stood on his right fool and Said : 'Ioes she can she receive com pany?" "Ye, sir," papa said, savagely, not Kt all melted by thepleai!iu Intonation of Alfred's voice, which everybody elso t'lought was so Irresistibly sweet. Then Alfred Ethelridge st..ed on his left fiot and said : "Is she at home?" "Yes, sir." papa said, kind of coldly. Alfred Eihelri Ige looked down the street and sighed, then he looked up at papa aud shivered. Thru he stuodfn tbe right foot auin and :aid : "Is she In?" "Yes, sir," papa said, grimly, aud never taking his eyes ofl the young man's uneasy face. Alfred Ethelridge sighed and looked up the street, then he stood on his left foot and looked at papa's knees and said, timidly, and in tremulous tones: "Can she see me?" "Yes, sir," papa said, but he never moved, and he never looked pleasant. He only stood still and repeated a se cond time, "Yes, sir." Alfred Ethelridge began to feel ill. He looked up and down the street and finally pinned his wandering gaze to the bald spot on the top of papa's head, then he said : "Will you please tell her that Mr. Al fred Ethelridge called?" "Yes, sir," said papa and he didn't say anything more. And somehow or other Alfred Ethelridge kind of sort of got down off the porch and went kind of out of the gate like. He discontin ued his visits there, and explained to a friend that the old roan didn't say any thing that wasn't all right and cordial enough, but the manner of him was rather formal. Bonnat, the French artist, has begun to paint, a portrait of Uuo, who has given uo artist a sitting since
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers