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B. F. SOHWEIER, THE CONSTITUTION-THE UNION-AND THE ENFORCEMENT OF THE LAWS. Editor and Proprietor.
VOL. XLIII. MIFFLINTOWN, JUNIATA COUNTY. PENNA.. WEDNESDAY. MARCH 27, 1SS9. NO. 14.
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WE HAVE TO SAY.
CZS7 LOVV-PnJCED
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205 N. SECOND STREET,
I UILAL.tLt'HIA. PA-irmo.,f0
rxrETi from V.r yucca, a hairy plant
found lu Arizona, Xew Mexico, and
Lower California, is becoming popular
In Great Britain. It is readily bleached
and lias a Q1 re almost as strong as
liemp. It can be manafactureil at
aliout tlie same coat as paper made from
mixel cotton and l.nen rags.
It ovont not to be necessary every
day to print evidence or the bad effect
ot cifiurette stnokinz on the crowing
youths, but the evidence from 200 doc
tor before the Michigan legislature is
wortli hrexlin?'. ami they each cited
r.i's of Imys bein dwarfed, made in
nine, killot or rendered incapable ol
thci'I, nnd the profr&sors of Michigac
U i vcisf :1 testified at length ot
tint effect on tlie students who wert
made 3tupl I by cigarettes.
M-.NstrcR Jolt, or Taria, has re
cently pu'jlislid a pamphlet in which
he ilescrilxM a famous Black Hamburgh
tniw vine which crows on the estate ol
tie Varrjuls of Breadalbane, in En?
laii'l, and Is llieved to have been phint
ed in 1-32. Its stem, at one foot from
tlie enmr.d, measures two feet in cir
cumference, while its branches cover an
area of some 427.1 square feet, and dur
ing the year 1-3 yielded about 3t)0C
hunches of grapes.
I;i yi t.is rs, in their early Cars, are
usually proud of their distance records,
and keep an accurate account of theit
road travels. Iast year three men, ac
cording to their reports, covered ovei
SIKH) miles each, or a distance equival
ent t. the diameter of the earth. A
wore i'f others covered 4.000 miles or
moie. The higher records represents
more than twenty miles a day for every
day in the year, that the bicyclists
winked iretty hard for their honors.
IIolswmuthy, a villagro or England,
is all excitement over a ghostly light
which every night intermittently flashes
;icross a railway cutting. From dusk
to midnight the village station Is
thronged with people, anxious to obtain
a glimpsx) of the light. Old stories of
luiperstition long dormant in the dis
trict are being revived, and the fact
that three peop! have been killed near
the ?iot in the last year or so encour
ages the belief in the supernatural
character of the luminous apparition.
Tiierb Is a venerable Philadelphia
fxlitor, who h:te achieved both fame and
fortune. His walls are hung with
beautiful pictures, and his cellar over
flows with the choicest wine; still he is
not happy, for the r.iscally foremau will
allow his spaces to "stick up." Yrom
early mourn till dewy eve me.-sagis as
cend from the sanctum. Please pu.-h
down the spaces!'' Sometime these
messages are accompanied by the com
pliments of the courteous editor, but
more frequently by his malediction.
O! Mr. Foreman, ir you would smooth
the editor's pathway to the tomb and
preserve his soul from endless torment,
learn In youth to "push down your
spaces."
A cheat many people think a news
paper should have about a page of local
news, whether anything happens or not,
1 "eluded mortals! Local editors canuot
make people break their necks, commit
suicide, or do any of the other exciting
things that go to make up the niatwia
out of which the local reiwter delights
to weave paragraphs. Furnishing do
mestic news when there is none is very
much like extracting blood from a tur
nip. It is no more than fair that the
who grumble at the lack of local new!
in their paper should stop and think
whether they could not jrive the editoi
a:i item or two worth printing, and, ii
so, let them hold their peace, or growl
at their own remissness.
The editor or the Senora (Ala.)
Stnlintl thus asks his readers to come
forward and pay back subscriptions:
It is a s.d duty to us to state to the
many readers of this paper that we ar
actually in need of a suit of clothes.
We would like to attend preaching, but
remain away because we are asliamed
to enter the church with the suit that
is worn daily; we go occasionally, but
have to slip in quietly and take a back
seat. This piece is not written for the
purpose of soliciting some kind friend
to donate us a suit of clothes, nor som-r
free-hearted merchant to sell us a suit
on time; but to arouse the sympathies
of those owing us. We have spent the
List dollar in our possessh n to accom
modate you; now come to our needy
assistance, and receive the blessing!
that only a poor, oppressed newspapei
man can bestow."
The Ce:d of woman's work widens
every year. As an example of what an
educatiou at Vassar College, and in the
Women's Medical School of "ew York
city, could do for a youns woman ot
Concord. Dr. Elizabeth Brown, now
practicing in New York, read at the
recent Social Science Association one
or the most satisfactory studies yet
made in this country on the occupations
of working women in a great city as
affecting their health. Dr. Brown es
timates tlie working women of England
at l-sa than 5,000,000, and those of 'ew
York city at about iOO.OOO, In one Hun
dred and twenty different occupations.
ir wlii.-h tin chief ones concern the
manufacture of clothing for women.
children an 1 men; the preparation of
tobacco for sale; the making of artificial
flowers, wallpaper, hats, etc., which
involves poisonous processes; and the
ordinary manufacture of cotton, woollen
hemp, and jute goods in city factories.
Or all these employments, those which
concern the clothing or women employ
the most women, no account being
taken in the essay of domestic service
or or saleswomen and the higher paid
employments of women.
A STOUT OP ODIIXSh.
How a Poor I Joy I-rt Hi. Xatlve
Town and Itlnrnel Finou.
The lesson in literature was the life
or Hans Andttrsen. J. laid down my
book and thourht or the man whose'
ll'e I hail s'.udied, or hi pure, good
life in those northern cities, when:
Suddeuly there stood b:fore mean
odd lit'.Ie boy, odder than any I had
ever eten before a boy with large,
dreamy eyes, and hair that lay in curls
all over his head. lie waa dressed in
a little Jacket and long trousers, all of
some dark woolen material, whil a
pair of little wooden shoe that clat
tered as he walked .and a queer little
red cap, like a night cap. completed
the cudtume of this slracge little
boy.
Gradually there rose up behind him
a house, as strange to my eyes as the
boy, a house of one story, above which
rose a roof three times as large as the
other put, endimr In an abrupt peak.
Slowly out of the mist that surrounded
both came other houses, but all resem
bling the small one, although manr
were much larger, with several stories
in the high, steep roofs. On some ot
the roofs were nests m:tdeof twigs and
dry leaves, in which stood huge birds,
many or them standing on one leg.
Near by a dull beating Bound could be
heard It was the sea beating against
the dikes.
The little boy opened the hair door
or the house and walked in to where a
woman stood stirring the evening por
ridge. She turned to him and said:
'Hans, child, what hast kept thee so
long?'
The tailor sent me on an errand,
mother.'
'And did be say thoa coaldst come,
child?' anxiously.
'Thou art to come to-morrow,
mother, and sign the paper, and tears
shone in the little boy's eyes as he said
the words. Then choking down the
sob that rose In his throat he caught
nis mother about the neck.
"Oh, mother, mother; do not let me
go. Only let me go to Copenhagen and
I will make my way alone. I can do
it, mother ,and I do not like the tailor's
trade."
The mother sat down on the wooden
settee holding the boy In her arms.
The look on her face showed her heart's
thoughts, now could she let her only
son go out Into the world with neither
money nor friends; and yet. should she
make him unhappy by denying him his
one great wish? She would worE hard
and never mind it if her boy was
hapry.
She looked about the poor room and
then at the boy in her arms. Perhaps
some day he might return to her fa
mous and happy. Should she let him
go? The poor mother's heart grew
sorer and sorer at the thought of let
ting her only nestling go out Into the
cruel world alone.
Long did the mother and child sit by
the tire. The porridge began to burn;
the fire threw weird shadows through
the room; the cold evening air blew
through the lattice, but still they sat
there.
At last the smell of the burning por
ridge recalled the mother. Tenderly
putting the boy away from her she put
the disli of porridge .on the table and
they sat down to the poor meal in
silence.
"Hans, thou Shalt have thy wish."
"Oh, mother, thou art good."
And where tears of sorrow had stood
now suone tears or )oy. J. lie great,
wish of hi life was given him. yet he
felt for his mother with ber aching and
unwilling heart, and he tenderly wiped
the tear from her eyes.
The boy is a man now. The town of
Odense is brilliant with lights and
eayety.
Every house 1 uecorar ea witn Dunt
ins and illuminated with bright lights.
In the balconies before the wiuaows
stand youttis and maidens, old men
and women, and even children, for is
not all this done f- r one called "Ihe
Children's Friend?"
Below in the s'.reet is the surging
crowd here to do honor to the man
whose pure and simple life and beauti
ful word bad m ule Llui lovaa cy an
the lowly of that city. The expectancy
of the crowd prows greater every
moment.
Everv one is impatient, but at last a
hush falls over the crowd, for the taint
sound of music is heard from afar, now
sinking In the distance, but each time
heard growing clearer ana nearer, un
.41 last it come cose, ana uie muuiLuue
breaks into ore great shout In honor ot
their hero.
There he sat In the carriage drawn
bv four black horses, beside him some
of the town s most uunguisuea men.
and the hero ot the evening In our old
friend. Hans.
The same noo:e xace, wim me
dreamv look in hi eyes that he bad
when he wiped the tears irom nis
mnthw'j cheeks.
Tuat mother wa she not proua
aud hanuv to see her ton come Dae a lu
such triumph? Illgn up in a Daicony
she sat looking with beaming eyes upon
the, nroceasion below. I he son, in
h, irlnmi.h. thought first of that
mother wto had helped him S3 much,
ami this is the way Hans Christian
Audersen came tw tn(Mm
fetealinic a ltint;.
'I have not been saving all these
year for nothing." said Kooert iiin-
-.in s he waiaeu a long mo cuus wilu
his friend. In another week I shall be
Jan la Bead's husband. Don't you
congratulate me ? '
i wish von luck, certainly," re-
tr.rr.a ifonrv Graham. "I dont
know any girl in town that I would
rather marry than Janie that is,
r ni 4rrv!n J man.
in f-w minutes the friends parted
Robert walking in the direction of the
lighthouse, where he was to relieve the
keeper for the night,
....rn-Tir tn the village.
There were sad hearts In the village
the next day when it was noised about
that vounz Lincoln had fallen from the
cliff in the dark. He had started for
the lighthouse and had not been heard
But Kobert was not dead. In falling
he
had been caueni on a hijc.uu
whAra ne was
found by some
Ti ri.Tiinv neoDle and cared for,
On the porch of a vine-covered cot
tage was seated a beautiful
w rosv with the health
which an active country life brings i to
the cheek of youth, was bowed in her
while through her fingers the
tears were stealing. ...
le was Janie. weeping for him
i a ..nr im apuin-
she
c..AA-r.iw .tens approached, and
Janie sprang to her feet with a scream
Who was this who stood before her
so pale and thin ?
"Janie! darling Jinlsl do not be
frightene I. 1 1 Is I your Kobert,
Janie did not believe In apparations.
and in another moment she was classed
close In her lover's embrace.
But af tr the first transport of her joy
was over, she suddenly seemed to
remember something which called a
grave cloud to her brow. Withdraw
ing herself from her lover's arms, she
hid her face in ber bands.
'Janie!" what Is It?" Robert ex
claimed. "Why do you look so sad?"
Then amid tears and sobs the girl
told him that she had been forced by
her father to give her consent to marry
on, be had chosen for her.
Robert's race grew black as night.
"Who is It?" he exclaimed.
"It Is narry Graham." answered
Janie, still sobbing. "lie came to
rather and told him that he had lately
been left a large sum of money, and
that he would give me a good home.
Father was delighted you know how
much he thinks of money and made
me consent. I was so stunned, think
ing you dead and gone, that 1 did not
make much reM.-tance. And, oh 1 it is
too late to draw back, for the wedding
day is set.
As she spoke, Robert's eyes rested
upon a ring which was upon her
betrothal finger. It was a turquoise.
In the sliape of a heart and set In a
small hoop ot gold.
A sudden, strange expression flashed
Into his eyes.
"Did Henry Graham give you that
ring. Janie?" he asked.
As she assented her lover suddenly
clasrd her to him.
Jamel Janiel" be cried: "courage.
lassie! We'll be happy yet I A light
has broken io upon me. Walt till to
morrow and see ir your father still
wishes you to marry Henry Graham."
The ring which Janie wore upon her
finger Robert at once recognized as
one which with other articles of jew
elry that hd belonged to his dead
mother bad been in the box which con
tained his money, and of whose hiding
place but one person knew, and that
person was Henry Graham!
Like lightning he had guessed the
truth. As he expected he found his
money gone.
Some hours later, with a pale fright
ened face (for villains are always
cowards), Henry Graham stood by.
while a constable searched his things
and brought to light convincing proofs
of bis guilt In the shape of the rest of
the jewelry, which, when be had taken
the money, be had appropriated also.
W hen he saw that all was discov
ered Henry made a full confession. He
had always secretly loved Janie Read,
and all the time he had been willing
himself into Robert's friendship his
heart had been filled with envy toward
him. Thus, when fate had seemed to
put the opportunity into his power he
had not been able to resist the tempta
tion of securing the p.ize he had long
coveted. He bad Known of Mr. Ksad"s
love ot money, and bad calculated
rightly on its power of turning him to
bis wishes. But his evil deeds had
found him out, and though, through
Robert's refusal to appear against h's
friend, Henry escaped the imprison
ment be deserved, he was punished
enough through his guilty couscieace,
and in witnessing the happiness of the
lovers whose lives he had so nearly
been the means of marring forever.
A few months later the little village
presented a gala appearance.
It was the wedding day of the two
young people, who were beloved by all.
and whose romantic story interested
old and young.
Napoleon's Wonderful Memory.
A gentleman once said, in Welling
ton's presence, that great meinorirs
are generally the sign of great talents,
and instanced .Napoleon, who could
single out soldiers in reviews and call
them by name to step out of the ranks.
'That is a great mistake,' repln d the
Duke. 'I'll tell yon how he managed
it. One of his generals, Loban. used
to get ready for him a list of soldiers
to be called out ot each regiment.
When Napoleon rode up opposite to a
regiment he would call out the name of
the soldier to be honored, and the maa
would step forward that was all.
I also doubt the goodness of bis
memory, continued the Duke, 'from
the locseness and inaccuracy of bis
statements. In his works I mean all
that he has ever written you never find
thing precisely as it happened. He
eems to nave no clear nor distinct
recollection; scarcely once has he ever
tripped into truth.
In another conversation Wellington
said that Napoleon's genius made him
so pre-eminent that all of his marshals
seemed inferior to him. Ue suited a
French Army exactly, and at their
head there nsver was anything like
him. I used to say of him that bis
presence on the field made the differ
ence of forty thousand men.
The devotion of the t rench army to
Napoleon Is illustrated by the fact
that several cf the French prisoners
wounded at Waterloo, shouted during
the agony of amputation, Vice Vm
ptreurl' A boot Sea Captalna,
A recently returned European tell
the following story of Capt. Cook, the
commander of the Umbria, now the
fastest Cunarder. The captain was
taking a midday observation while the
sun was somewhat hidden by mist.
As ha was putting down his instru
ment a passenger said to him: "The
fog prevented yoa from getting an ob
servation, didnt It, captain?" "It
did not prevent you from making your
observation." said the captain, as be
went towara the chart room, ine
anecdote will be appreciated by those
who have crossed the ocean with Capt
Cook. A thorough seaman, attentive
to duty night and day, be is not known
to travelers as a social captain. There
is a wide difference In these sea dogs in
this respect.
The Sjethe of KorsetftUuess.
A London specialist, one Dr. Edward
Fick, has come te this country to tell
Americans bow to cultivate and train
their memories. Up to a certain point.
Dr. rick's speciality implies a desirable
attribute. But life is so very full of
things that one is happier in forgetting
thtt a retentive memory is another
name for continual unbappiness. If
the eminent Englishman can so train
the memory that its power to retain
agreeable recollections can be culti
vated its proneness to recall all the
disagreeable events of the past can be
curbed, then he should be encouraged,
and many will there be who will rise
and call him blessed. "Tlie pleasures
of memory" have been immortalized
in poetry, but the Lethe of forgetful
seas is, after all. a desirat&e quality.
Cack-N'nmbrr Endd.
An Ol 1 Business Oat of Which a Sc.
York Nejjro la Maalnfc Money
Rapidly.
A Cicely lighted, musty sreellinj
cellar at the corner of Broadway anc
Thirty-third street is the beadquar
ters of a stalwart, rather good-looking
colored man, who carries on a profita
ble business by saving old and curloui
numbers of New York papers, anc
selling them at fabulous prices. lie It
known to all newspaier men, and, ir
fact to everybody as "Back-Number''
Budd, aad his business is tlie out
growth ct an old hobby of hi for sav
ing old newspapers. Ten years ago he
came to New York from Washington,
and started in as a bootblack.
A reporter called at the place a few
days ago, and while looking for ar
ancient paper "Back-Number" Budi'
told eometUiu about his queer busi
ness. 'After I had blackened boots for
two years," said he, ite thought
flashed across my mind one day about
saving all the old papers I could find. 1
had grown a little careless about my
boot-blacking business, and eight years
ago l started with but S3 In my pos
session. I opened a little stand at the
place where Palmer s theatre now
stands. It was veiy bard pulling at
Drst, and I got the window man lu th
Gilsey house to save me all his papers,
which I bought by the pound. It was
awful slo work, for I hardly made my
bread and butter out of it. My friends
advised me to sell out. but I was obsti
nate and was bouud to make a com
plete file as far back as 1 could. Af
the file kept on growing larger and
larger my trade commenced to pick up,
and I resolved to stick it out at all haz
ards.
'As soon as I found 1 was likely to
succeed 1 made a unilorm set of prices,
as follows: A copy of a paper one
week old, 5 cents; a copy ot auy 5 cent
paper one week o.d, 8 cets; a copy of
any paper thirty days old, 10 cents.
For each month after thirty days add
5 cents; a copy of a paper one year old,
5J cents, i or each year after the first
add 2j cents. An exception to these
prices is made when a paper is very
rare or out of print.
"Ves. and 1 always stick to my
price, aud my customers kick. too. A
short time ago a prominent lawyei
came here aud wanted a copy of a
paper printed in 1S77. I got it, and
asked my regular price X He was
very indignant and sail I ought to
starve, but when I explained that it
was my mode of living he paid the
price and left. The lawyers are my
principal customers, as they orten win
big cases by getting back numbers o(
papers for evidence. They are big
kickers, but I know they must have
the papers, and therefor remain firm In
my price.
"My principal files are the San from
1S33 to date, the World from li-GO, the
Herald from 1833, the Tribune from
1841, and the Timet rrom lSoL
'I have also very complete files ot
many dead papers, including Truth,
Vial and others. I put twenty copies
away of the ii orlJ. bun and JlerauL
I have more calls for the World than
any other paper."
"What is the highest price you were
ever paid for a paper?"
MA lawyer paid me $40 for two
copies of a paper published in 1801. and
I have often received S15 and SIS for
old and valuable papers. Newspaper
men often come here aud give me from
SI to 5$ just to look over a valuab.e
paper. A large part of my trade is In
the country, but I never send papers
out until they are paid for. General
Grant camto me shortly after the
(J rant & Ward failure and bought a
two mouths' fine of the daily pttpurs
containing an account of the affair. 1
charged him 10 cents a copy; and got
every cent of it.
'I'll show you some curiosities."
said Budd. as he led the reporter to the
back part of the cellar, which is known
as the curiosity shop among the faded
aud dusty papers were a Herald of
Aug. 20, 1SC0, which contained a full
account of the opening of Central
Park; a copy of the Sun of June 20
1S34, with turned column-rules for the
death of a Lafayette: a 1'olice. Uazeiteot
May 20. 1SC5, with a badly-drawn pic
ture of the capture of Jeff Davis on
the front page; a Frank Leslie' of
May. 1855, gave a picture of two men
throwing a body wrapped in a sheet
into the water. It was entitled "The
Assassin's End." meaning Booth, the
murderer of Lincoln. lie had also the
copies of the World, Herald Sun. and
hundreds of other valuable relics.
The reKrter then went to Ravens
wood. Long Island where Budd bad
4,000,000 copies of papers stored away,
lie has a tjstem by which he can read
ily turn to any paper desired without
loss of time. lie is now making
money very rapidly, and his back file?
are increasing in value every day.
Where Only Maa is Vile.
While discussing venomous reptiles.
it will perhaps not be out of place to
aid a little information which seems
to me remarkable, and which will be
news to nearly all who live east in the
mountains. When I arrived on Puget
Sound I was informed that there were
neither poisonous serpents, insects nor
plants on the snores of the Sound.
Having never seen a place entirely de
void of poisonous animal or vegetable
life, I was rather inclined to doubt the
assertion, though assured by many old
settlers as well as new, that such waa
the case. However, a careful investi
gation since then has convinced me
that It is true. In ail my hunting and
fishing expeditions I have never seen a
specimen of poisonous reptile, insect or
plant. I notice an entire absence of
both poison oak and ivy, which I have
nerctoiore encountered wherever
have been. Af far as I can learn.
what I have said in regard to Puget
Sound also holds true of all the coun
try lying west of the Cascade range.
A Fanny Quartet.
Little Llla Jamison startled ber papa
directly alter grace, the other day, by
taking up her plate and saying, 'Papa.
won't I soon be old enough to read off
the plates just like you?'
The older sister, Mary, feeling full
of sympathy for ber mamma in the
hurry and worry of the Spring sewing
fcr her four little ones, suggested the
quaint idea that she didn't see why
they con id not wear feathers and be
done with it.'
While the wee l.ttle tot Peyton, feel'
ing sorry for a neighbor who 'wished
she had a sweet little bacy iust like
bis mamma's, said, 'III tiptoe up to
heaven, so uaa wont Mar me, and get
yoa one.'
True fleroism.
Let other, writa of battles fonjlit
Ud blood t. Kh.stlT fields.
Where honor greets the man who wins.
and death Ihe man who yield;
Ent I will wri-e of bira who fljjLu
And vanquishes his .ins
Who straggle on through weary years
Agaict bimselr and wins.
He is a hero, staunch and brave,
Who fight, an nnae-n foe.
And put. at last beneath hi. feet
His pamions bam and low;
And stand, erect in manhood's might,
Undannted, undiin.yed
Tlie bravest man w bo tire w a sword
In foray or in raid.
It call. for. something more than brawn
Or muacle to o'ercome
An enrmy who marcneth not
With banner, pinine or drum
A foe forever lurking nish.
With silent, stealthy tread;
Forever near your board by day.
At night beside xour bed.
All honor, then, to that brave heart,
Though poor or rich be b-.
Who .trutfglea with hi. baser part.
Who conquer, and 1. I roe.
lie may not wear a hero, crown
Or ti 11 a hero', grave.
But truth will place hi. name among
Xbe bravest of the brave.
HIS GOOD LUCK.
We had been talking alwut the turn
of fortune which comes tj some people
with the New Year. Dr. Mason, the
oldest man in the room, said:
I will tell you a stoiy worth writing
ana printing. I see that it is now the
fashionable thing for men and women
who have made a little stir in the world
to tell all about the books which influ
enced them and the incidents which
turned them into the highways which
led to fortune or to fame. Well, I am
not famous, thank heaven, but perhaps
the experiences of a man who has es
caped fame may not be without use to
somelx.lv.
I have always believed in luck. I
don't attempt to justify my belief. I
know that 1 can't hold my ground in
argument against those who siy there
is no such thing. 1 only know that 1
believe in it- The- superstition was
born in me. There is a proverb in the
Castilian tongue which says: 'He who
expects good luck will surely get it.'
read that before I was 12 years old.
and at once put faith in it. It con
firmed the hope within me, that the
future held something exceptionally
good for me. Perhaps each one of us
has that feeling, but not everybody
e vol vis it into a faith and regularly
lives by it. I did.
I had a dreary childhood, a difficult
youth and a struggling early manhood.
That proverb heljied me to go through
everything with courage. Usually I
hated proverbs. My father had a stock
of very disagreeable ones which he
showered upon me at all seasons aud
hours. 'Those who know nothing fear
nothing," 'Birds that fly high light low,'
and others cf equally discouraging
power were ever on the point of his
tongue. But the proverb that promised
good luck simply because one expected
it was both balm and Inspiration to
me.
"When playing with other boys ami
trouble of any kind was imminent I
always took the most cheerful ground,
and assured them that everything would
turn out all right. And I was terribly
in earnest, too. I felt that all would
go well somehow. The result was that
every one took hope and met difficulty
and danger as bis master, not his vic
tim. The boys soon learned to depend
upon me for strength and encourage
ment, and they stuck to me with ro
mantic devotion. I learned then the
wonderful indueuce one mind can have
over others when it recognizes no such
thing as fear. Call it superstition.
foolishness, what you will, but my faith
In that proverb was something marvel
ous. 1 will admit, however, that I am
of a credulous nature. V hen I was
young I believed every assertion I ever
heard or read. 1 was not a questioner
or doubter. II a man asserted some
thing I believed him because I sup
posed that be knew, else he would not
assert. It never occurred to me that
be might lie. Being honest myself 1
believed in the honesty of other.
I lived in the country and 1 longed
to live in the city. My parents were
well to do: but it was the custom of
that locality to live simply and bring
the children up to work. Mental
accomplishments did not take high rank
In the circle in which I moved for the
first fifteen years ot my life. 1 wanted
a better education than I was ever
likely to get. Somehow I fancied that
I would get It, though I could not see
how. The holidays always carry me
back In memory to some of the main
events in my life. I believe that for
tune has a habit of making extraordi
nary changes when the Old Year goes
out and the new one comes. At least
it has done so more than once in my
case: and that Is why i now ten mis
story to you younger people, who natur
ally think of new leaves of many kinds
in connection with the isew lear.
I was only ! years old when one
bitter winter I took a contract to chop
a large quantity of cord wood. It was
one of the few ways boys had In that
locality of earning a little money. It
seems like a rough way to me now; but
we did not think so then. I was up at
5 o'clock in the morning, and by 6 had
had my breaKfast. and was in the
woods sending the echo of my strokes
far over the hills. I was working for
a purpose. The winter's chopping
would give me money euough to start
In a small business upon which I bad
set my heart. It was nothing less than
to buy out a tin shop at 'The Corners,'
the nearest village. In Imagination I
saw myself a 'store keeper,' at once a
person or dignity in the community and
highly satisfactory to myself. I soared
even higher than that. I saw myself
living in a fine house, growing elderly,
pompous and fat, and in all probability
president of a bank, like Jud e John
son, for whom 1 turned off the sire'
walk every time I met him at The
Corners,' as every other youth did,
because he was so rich and important
.New Tear's day found me in the
woods, chopping away as usual. Holi
days were not observed in that commu
nity, and festivities were as rare as
angel's visits. An extra piece of pie
in u y lunch pail and a bit of something
unusual for supper were all that marked
the day from all other crisp, cold
winter days. But I thought of its
being New Year's, and dreamed my
dreams while I made the ax hum. The
luck I expected out of that winter's
work I could scircely put In a small
Kingdom. While 1 was dwelling upon
this interesting theme something snap
ped tar above my head, there waa a
crash, some blinding flashes of light,
and then I was nowhere, at least con
sciously.
A heavy limb ot an old dead tree had
broken and fallen upon ma. When I
'came to' I found mvself hurt and
somewhat frozen. I dragged myself
borne only to take to my bed for the
remainder ot the winter. Such a winter
as It was so bitter and hopeless that
at times I almost lost faith iu my good
luck. I couldn't finish my contract of
wood chopping, and so the tin store
vanished.
In the spring I was able to be about
onc9 more; but thin, pale, weak, and
with a bad limp. The doctors said I
would never be strong again. This
was terrible news to me. Alas! for the
good luck I had expected. Aud yet it
came, though not as I had planned.
It has a way of doing that, I have
noticed.
In the early spring Uncle Zeph came
to see us. He was a kind hearted.
unselfish man, aud be took an interest
in me.
'Why, the boy isn't able to do hard
work. lie must be sent to school and
to college,' be said, after be thoroughly
understood the situation. But my
father winced and said nothing. Edu
cation was but little respected in those
parts,
What else can be done with him?'
asked my persistent uucle. 'The boy
has a good bead. There's something
in him. Give him a chance. You
surely wouldn't force blm to live his
life without resources and tools with
which to aid himself. It's a shame.'
At last it was settled that I was t j
receive a thorough collegiate education.
Uncle Zeph. who was childless, paying
halt the cost of it. Here was a piece
of luck, indeed; better even than any
thing I had expected. It Quite re
newed my faith in my only proverb.
And it had ail come out of what I had
deemed a stroke of the hardest kind of
luck. Take courage, then, ail of you,
aud don't think because you can't see
light ahead of you that there is no light.
Weil, I was graduated at last from
one of the best colleges. After that
took a medical course and went to
what was then considered the far WtSi,
Indiana, to practice. Patients came
slowly, but I expected good luck, as
had learned to do, aud had patience, if
not patients.
I was just beginning to be a little
known when I fell in love. The young
lady who had effected this state of my
emotions was Miss Aluia Adam She
waa very handsome. She had the dark
eyes 1 am so fond of, and a placid, un
emotional manner that 1 greatly ad
mired. She was not ilcti, and 1 w
rather glad of it, because I wanted to
in her aud to do everything for her
myself. 1 think a man who is a man
ought to feel that way. I was very
much in love with ber, and 1 thought
that she felt more than kindly to me.
But I wasn't sure. She was a queer
girl. One could never tell of what she
was thinking. I put off learning th
actual state of her heart uutd I saw
my way clear to a decent practice. Iu
short, till I put some money iu my
purse.
Miss Adams' parents had in the
family a niece about Alma's age.
plain little body, who was somewhat
deaf and, therefore, something of
bore to a selush young tool like me.
who had only eyes and ears for the girl
he adored. But Laura, this cousin,
was good If she was exceedingly plain,
and the girls were very fond of eacl
Cher.
At last my unspoken love became
almost a burden. 1 thought or but
little else than Alma. Rivals I had.
to be sure, but none whom 1 really
fuared. Young Wilcox, son of the
richest man iu the growing young
town, hung around her constantly; aud j
George Carey, a middle aged swell
from 'the east,' was also devoted to
her. But I was not afraid. i
One evening as I parte 1 from her
my manner betrayed mure tenderness
than I had meant to express, though
not more than 1 felt. In thinking of
It afterwards I was happy lu remem
bering that Alma had not seemed sur
prised or annoyed at my expression of
feeling. 'And she must have under
stood,' I said to myself. A I walked
to my lodgings I determined to tell her
outright that I loved her, and ask her
to marry me the very next mouth. The
next day 1 was called away to the bed
side or my dying father, and did not
return for two months. Then I was
a comparatively rich man, witn my
share ot his estate. That is, rich for
that time, not for the present.
I returned to Creetueld on isew
Year's day. I lost no time in going to
see Alma. Visions of this moment of
happiness had filled my mind for days.
I met Laura just coming out of the
housa. Full ot childish delight at
bsing once more so near the little home
circlo which held my happiness, I
rushed up to her and held out both my
bands, saying: I am so glad to see you.
I shall be grateful if you are half as
glad to see me.'
Her eyes opened wide, with a look
that was part pleasure aud part aston
ishment, blended with depreciation.
She had the appealing eyes which so
often belong to the young who are
afflicted with deafness. Something in
her look told me that she had not
really understood my words, but was
honestly glad to see me. So I rattled
on telling her how much I had thought
of all of them while 1 had been away,
still holding both her hands in a hearty
clasp.
I wish you a happy New Year (and
many happy New Year?,' I said finally.
'x"our welcome makes me very, very
happy. Now, let us go and And Alma.'
Do you really mean it, Dr. Mason?'
and she looked up at me with a strange
yearning expression on her plain face,
which was flushing with red, like an
earlv morning sky.
Mean it? Mean it every word, with
all my heart,' and I held ber hands
tighter than ever in alt my enthusiasm.
Now let ns find Alma, for whom I
have what I hope may l-e glad tidings.'
She smiled, and her smile was very
sweet, although she was so plain. I
noticed, too. that her eyes had a strange
light in them which made them resem
ble the eyes we sometimes see in
dreams, which speak so much more
meaningly than do those we see in our
waking hours. This lizht was the light
of joy and nothing else. One does not
see it often in woman's eyes. Some
times once only in a life time.
She slipped her arm in mine and we
walked into the bouse down the wide,
old fashioned ball to the sitting room.
Alma, dear,' said Laura, as we
opened the door and the tall, dark eyed
goddess of my heart arose and came
towards us, 'Dr. Mason says I have
made him very happy, and be wants to
tell you of It at once, and so do L"
The goddess glanced at both of us, a
faint pink color coming into her white
cheek, and smiled at us as she would
have smiled at two children, while 1
was longing to take ber in my arms
and tell ber that I adored her. Instead
of greeting me, or giving me a chance
to greet her, she bent and kissed Laura,
and then turned to me, saying:
'You have won the sweetest heart in
the world. Dr. MasoD. I congratulate
you. I know that you will return an
equal amount of good wishes when I
tell you that I have promised to marry
Mr. Carey. We will be married next
month and go to New York to live at
once.'
I stood, as the novelists say, 'rooted
to the spot. The whole scene
seemed unreal. I, who a few moments
before was full of joyful anticipation,
now found myself engaged to marry a
woman whom 1 did not love, and hear
ing the woman I did leve tell me that
she was soon to marry one ot my rivals.
At first I could not understand what
Alma meant. I thought that she aud
Laura were enjoying some Joke too
obscure for roe. At last the beaming
look iu Laura's eyes eullg:itenpd me.
She, being somewhat deaf, had mis
taken my warm greeting for a declara
tion of love, aud respondel affirma
tively. With Laura s arm still within mine
I walked to a sofa and sat down, she
by my side. I had not uttered a word
since I met Alma. Speech had utterly
forsaken me. Aud. Indeed, what could
I say? Could I tell the trusting crea
ture by my side that it was all a mis
take; that she had misunderstood me;
that Idll not love her; that! loved
her beautiful cousin? Xo; I was too
shocked and dazed to do anything but
sit there in silence, with the ierspira
tion standing in cold drops on my faca
aud my eyes y hiring vacantly ahead of
me. I think I could have spoken had
It not been that Alma stool before nie !
lojking placid aud even happy in tell
ing of her engagement to Mr. Carey.
I accepted the situation in Iesierat:on.
The whole face of life had been sud
denly chauzed for me and I saw noth
ing but giooai ahead.
I thought myself a strong man, but
is it any wonder that I wept like a
child on my pillow that night? What
a New Year that was! Whither had
my expected good luch gone?
I put the best possible face on my
misery and went on in the dismal path
fate had marked out for me. Since 1
could not have Alma, v. hat did it
matter whom I married? Ugly little
Laura would do as well as any woman.
It was fortuna'e that she expected no
extraordiuaiy demonstration of affec
tion from m. Truly I could not have
given it. My heart seemed frozen or
dead. Yet I could not help seeing
that she seea-ed quite happv. Her
plain face actually bei;an to glow with
uew life, and there were times whei
she looked almost protty. It occurred
to me that I might forget my own
misery by trying lo lu.ike her happy:
The idea was a tpaik from the mind of
infinite love, for it brought a kind of
peace to my sick soul.
I threw myself into the role of prom
ised husband with all the energy I
possessed. 1 suggested that we should
bs ruained on the same day that was
fixed for the wedding of Alma to Mr.
Carey. I can assure you that in those
weeks I demonstrated, to myself at
least, that I had something ot the
heroic in my nature.
Weil, we were married. Alma and
her husband went away, and Laura and
I 'went to housekeeping' as they say
of newly married folk. I did my best
to give Laura no cause to susjiect that
I was unhappy. The quiet happiness
which shone day after day in her lace
became a joy to ine. It even rebuked
me, too. i t was plain that she loved
me devotedly; aud she was so uuseltlsli
in her love, so wise, so seusiuie that i
soon found myself admiring her. in
the wish to do everything possible lor
her in order to recompense her for the
love I did not have to give her, I
thought of trying to remedy her defect
ive hearing. W e went to Philadelphia
for that purpose. The best auri.st in
the c ty made an examination and at
once assured us that the trouble was
caused by a slight obstruction which
would yield readily to simple treat
ment. Iu two mouths Laura returned
perfectly cured.
Then I legan to notice what a very
bright woman my wife was, and she
seemed to grow sunnier and sweeter
every hour. In less than six months I
loved her a thousand limes more, it
seemed to me, than I had ever loved
Aim i. Wheulbegm to realize It, I
blessed Fate over and over again for
giving me my own, even through such
incomprehensible ways. 1 iniht have
known it,' I said to myself. '1 always
expected to have happiness in my home,
aud I might have been sure of it.
although the light refused to shine for
awhile.'
At the end of a year I was so in
fatuated with my lovely little wifu that
told her the story ot how I came to
marry her. That she regarded as the
best possible proof of my love for her.
Then she confessed to me that she h id
loved me almost from the hour when
she first saw me, but had imagined
that I cared for Alma. Yet when I
met her on that New Year's morning.
with such extraordinary cordiality her
heart rather than her reason caused
the misunderstanding. Y'ct she de
clares to this day that what shi seemed
to hear was, '1 love you. Cjme and
let me make you happy all the days of
my life.' Perhaps my wiser Belf spoke
to her in some silent, beartward way
and I knew It not. At all events 1 am
grateful that she thought she heard
these words if I didn't say them.
I did not see Alma for Ave years.
Then I wondered how I ever could
have loved her. She was still beautiful,
of course; but devoted to a life of
fashion and show, aud was not at all
the woman I had imagined she would
be. She never knew how she had fig
ured In the romance of my life.
You see, I alwaysexiected good luck
and always got It, but Dot always in the
way I had expected. Atter my blun
dering marriage turned out so well I
never doubted my Spanish proverb
again. It has never failed me through
out my life, and I will be eighty lu
Dcember If I were to preach a ser
mon to young people every day in the
week, I think the concluding sentence
would always be: 'Expect good luck
and you will get it.' If I could send a
New Year's message to every soul on
the earth it would be to expect the
good. Put It on your New Year's
cards. Write it In your letters. Tell
it to the little people. Keep it ever in
mind. Believe in it and I've by it.
The true philosophy of life is in it.
'Expect good luck aid yju will get it,'
It Is said that In England nearly
one-half or the rural laborers who live
t) be over sixty years or age die in tl e
poor bouse.
He Was Lcckt. nrlup D.d
you see anything of the umbrella I left
here this morning?
Hotel clerk Yes. The owner hap
pened to see it and took It away.
NEWS IX BRIEF.
An alum mine has been discovers
in Utah. It yields SO to 90 per cent
pure alum, which can be extracted b'
simply placing the crude material ii
boiling water.
An Indiana court has decided thai
unless a woman is pleased with bei
photographs she need not pay for them.
no matter If a dozen of her friends de
clare that they "look just like her."
The Texas census bureau has esti
mated returns showing the population
of Texas in January, 1S87. to hav
been, in round numbers, 2.023. 000, an
increase of 2l'J per cent, since lsdO.
The United States exported In 1SS3
S2,('J2,U53 worth of oewing machines
as against J-2.3U7.337 in 1SS7. and
7.020.31)0 worth of steam engines and
other machinery in l.SS as ajatnst
55 C?S 700 in l!-S7.
The yearly income of the great
Kimberly diamond mines in South
Afiica is $2. , 000,000, and liesides that
it is estimated that lully $10,000,000
worth of diamonds are sto.en every
year by the natives who work in the
mines.
According to the latest estimates
the notnil.it iou of the territories is as
follows: Iakota,GOO.mO; Utah, 210.000;
New Mexico, lT.I.OnO; Washington,
107.92; Montana. 14 .0o0; Idaho. BKV
Odii; Wyoming. fco.OOJ; Alaska, 49,SoJ;
Arizona, 92,00.
The total exports, by the United
States, of ietro!eum and its various
products for the ye-ir ending December
31, 1S6S, were 54'').72o,(j75 gallons.
valued at S45 'JoSMkM, as a?ainst 581,-
021.323 gallons aud f43.231.9S3 the pre
vious year.
Domingo, the Spanish painter,
long resident in l'aris, for whose work
immense prices have ruled these many
years, has had the honor of painting
thebahy King of Spain and his mother,
the 0ueen Regent, receiving for the
lormer 525,0110.
The 7,200 miles of new railroads
built in 1SSS, called about 3d.0o0 new
men Into the service, reckoning five
employes to the mile, Including ollicers
aud men in all capacities. The present
railway system of the United States
has an army of To.Ot'O men.
Mark Twain claims that he kept
President Smith of Trinity College,
Hartford, Conn., from accepting the
Bishopric of Ohio. Twain says that
he was a sinner too much for t:.e
Synod. But the fact is that it was
duly, not a joker, which kept Dr.
Smith ai. Trinity.
Dr. Alvan Ta!cot of Guilford,
Couu., who has giveu $25,000 to endow
a professorship of Creek at Yale, Is one
of the oldest of the alumni of that
university, having been graduated In
182. He is past 80 yeais old, still prac
tices medicine, and reals Homer daily
with far DioM earnestness than ever la
his undergraduate days.
They are still pegging away at the
Caie Cod Ship Canal, which was begun
nine years ago. The contract require
Ihe work to be finished by June 20,
1S01, but as there are seven miles yet
to le dug. and a3 during 188 there
was only about seven eighths of a mile
ojened, the pr. Bpecls are not good for
the fulfilment of Ihe contract.
Among the birthday presents re
ceived by Edison, the Inventor, was a
cake from his servants. It was about
two feet .in diameter and 12 Inches
high. It bore the inscription: "Thomas
A. Bdlson, 189," In frost work, and
around its edges were 42 tiny Incandes
cent electric lights, supplied from a
battery placed iu a cavity lu the oeutre
of the cake,
Japan apparently leads the world
in the huiuImt of houses destroyed by
tire. lite frequently 25 or 30 build
ings no up in smoke, whilo several
times within the past year the riumlxr
has been 3d times that great. Late in
January flames swept over 14 streets lu
Ichihaticho, and 1000 houses. Including
schools and temples, were reduced to
ashes. A few days later 500 buildings
were damaged at Yokosuka.
Toward the end of his life. It is
said, Charles Ueadn was accustomed to
di-tatehis coiniositi.-ns to a secretary
whilo he paced the room, suiting bis
actions to his words. In "Ljve ami
Money" the remaik occurs in the dia
logue, "There's a smut on your nose."
The great dramatist gave the original
exclamation oil with such perfect in
tonation and gesture that his secretary
was for once deceived. He rose, went
to the tnirror, handkerchief in hand,
only to be laughed at I y his employer.
An old book has just come to light
which was written by Jay Gould, the
railway magnate, before he was known
to fame. It is entitled "A History of
Delaware Comity and the Border Wars
of New York." The book is loud in
denunciation of urlstocrats. and In
praise of liherty.tionest men and manual
toil, containing, amou other tlnags,
this sentiment:
:"The noblest men I know In earth
Are men whose bauds are brown
with toil;
Who, backed by no ancestral graves.
Hew down the woods and till Ihe
soil.
And win thereby a prouder fame
Than follow kings' aud warriors'
name."
The sixteen ladies who will dance
In the ojiehing quadrille at the Wash
ington tnaiigurat.on ball in New Yorl;,
on April 20, are:
Mrs. Charles Francis Adams, Mrs.
William Astor, Mrs. William Waldorf
Astor, Mrs. Grover Cleveland, Mrs.
Frederic J. de l'eyster, Mrs. Eibridge
T. Gerry, Mrs. Alexander Hamilton,
Mrs. Benjamin Ilairison. Mrs Ruther
ford B. Hayes, Mr. John Jay, Mrs.
Archibald Gracie King. Miss Carola
Livingston, Mrs. Levi Parsons Morton,
Miss Schuyler, Mrs. Henry Van Rens
selaer, Airs. Sidney Webster.
The fifteen great American Inven
tions ot world-wide adoption are:
First, the cotton gin; second; the plan
ing machine; third, the grass mower
and reair; fourth, the roUry printing
press; fifth, navigation by steam; sixth,
hot-air engine; seventh, the sewing
machine; eighth, the india rubber In
dustry; ninth, the machine manufac
ture of horse shoes; tenth, the sand
blast for carving; eleventh, the gauge
lathe; twelfth, the gram elevator;
thirteenth, artificial lce-maklug on a
larce scale; fourteenth, the electric
magnet and its practical application;
fifteenth, the telephone.
For embalming purposes the mater
ials used consist chiefly or acqueoua
and spirituous solutuotis of chloride
or zinc, with the addition or hydro
chloric acid solution of arsenic, chloro
form, benzoic acid, etc., according to
the d iff went modes of tirocedui
adopt4-
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