The New Bloomfield, Pa. times. (New Bloomfield, Pa.) 1877-188?, September 06, 1881, Image 1

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VOL. XV.
NEW BLOOMFIELD, TUESDAY, BEPTEM13EK (5, 1881.
NO. 30.
THE TIMES.
In ndepeudent Family Newspaper,
18 PUBUSHIDBTIBT TC1SDAT BT
F. MORTIMER & 00.
TERMS t
INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE.
1.30 Pr.lt VEAR, POSTAfiE FUEE.
so cts. ion e months
To .brlners reldlnR tn Tnts couhty, where
wb have no postage to pav. ft dtscmiHt of 21 cents
from th above terms will be made If payment Is
made in advance.
Advertising rates furnished upon applies
tlon.
Select Poetry.
What Is a kiss t A herald fair
That marsballeth the way to love ;
A fleeting breath of balmy air
Which o'er the Hp doth rove ;
An evanescent touch that thrills
The ardent lover's trembling frame,
-A dew which on the heart distils
And kindles Into flame.
What Is a kiss f A lisping sound
Of language all unknown before ;
The accent of one rapture found,
The whispered hope of more j
The bending of the boy-god's bow,
What time the string and arrow part ;
The blissful signet to the vow
That yleldeth up the heart.
An Astonished Parson.
A YOUNG woman, with a pleasing
face, who rarely smiles, and seems
to shun observation, and an old lady
who comes out very little and always
veiled.
That was the description given to the
Rev. Ci. cries Grosvenor of the new oc
cupants of the little cottage which' lay
-so close to his vicarage that he could see
the Bnioke from the chimney over the
tops of the trees that skirted his lawn.
The Kev. Charles Grosvenor had been
away from the scene of his labors at
Chumleigh for a month. Chumleigh
was country fled enough aud healthy
enough, but he bad been ordered sea air,
and had taken the trip, leaving his by
no means extensive flock to the care of
a temporary shepherd.
The Rev. Charles Grosvenor was a
young man, and Chumleigh was his
first village. He was quite new enough
to his work to take interest in it, and he
was on intimate terms with all his par
ishoners. Directly he heard of the new arrivals
in the village, he, of course, determined
to call upon them, but he thought he
would just inquire what sort of people
they were.
The result was the above description
a description vague enough in all
conscience, and yet sufficient at once" to
invest the heroines of it with a slight
halo of romance.
The Rev. Charles Grosvenor had not
o long left college life to bury himself
among the pumpkins but that he could
duly appreciate the piquancy which a
little mystery lends to our humdrum
-existence.
Knowing that the young lady shun-,
ned observation, his curiosity was at
-ctace aroused, and he looked forward to
his first meeting with her with more
than ordinary eagerness. As to the old
lady well, he was a young bachelor
remember, and however deeply old
ladies may veil themselves, or how
mysterious they may be, they cannot
expect to command much attention
when there is a younger lady la' the
case.
The curate called at Laburnam Cot
tage the day after his return from the
seaside. He found the Smiths very
quiet and unassuming people. Mrs.
Smith fid very little and sighed a good
-deal, and Miss Smith, though a fluent
and agreeable speaker, as he could judge
t from the little she said, spoke only In
answer to his questions, aud kept her
eyes fixed on the ground the whole time
that he waa talking to ber.
" Something queer about these peo
ple," said the Rev. Charles Grosvenor
to himself. " I wonder what It is. I
must draw them out."
His notion of drawing them out was
'to engage their service In his parish
work. The old lady sighed and con
sented. The young one colored, cast
down her eyes, and said that she was
afraid she was not fit for such work.
Not religions enough she meant.
The Rev. Charles Grosvenor was
much distressed to hear that Miss Smith
was not religious. Here, at last, waB a
task congenial to his soul. He was
quite willing to convert farm laborers
and to reform market gardeners, but
when a demure-looking young lady,
with an agreeable manner, offered her.
self he could not refrain from looking
forward to the prospect of higher und
nobler work.
He talked- seriously to Miss Smith,
and Miss Smith listened seriously so
seriously that the curate was taken by
surprise. He was almost alarmed at the
terrible earnestness with which the girl
spoke of religious questions and asked,
for spiritual consolation, and argued
with him on the dread subject of the
sinner's fate hereafter. The earnestness
and the vehemence of the parlshouer,
however, only increased hh interest in
her.
Now, when Miss Smith called herself
a miserable sinner, the Rev. Charles
Grosvenor thoroughly believed that she
was one. He accepted her confession in
the same sense that he would have ac
cepted It from the patrou of hi9 living
or his mother, or any of his lady par
ishoners, and being enjoined to say so, a
clergyman cannot, for the sake of being
complimentary, refuse to believe a
young lady when she affirms that she
is no exception to the rule.
But as to attaching auy really serious
import to the confession of Miss Smith,
that never occurred to him for a moment.
He soothed her, offered her such conso
lation as he could, thought she was a
most pious and interesting girl, and fell
madly in love with her.
-From the moment he made the dis
covery his conduct to her altered. He
tempted her to talk less about herself
and to be more cheerful. He didn't
want the girl he was in love with to be
too persistently a miserable sinner. She
was so charming and so nice that he felt
she might very well keep that in the
back-ground a little.
A white tie and a clerical coat do not
alter a man's nature ; and when a man
falls madly in love with a woman, he
likes to imagine her as near perfection
as possible. '
Miss Smith's manner changed also.
She discovered the parsou's secret before
it was many days old. She was still
pleased to see him, but she avoided all
reference to her sins.
Once be questioned her about her past
life. For a moment she was deadly
pale, then the color rushed to her cheeks
and she stammered out a remark which
turned the conversation.
Miss Smith saw that the Rev. Charles
Grosvenor was at her mercy. It was
only a question of time wbenhe would
make the avowal. Should she encour
age him or discourage his secret, and
stop it while there was yet time Y
In her difficulty she laid her case be
fore her mother, and asked for advice.
The old lady was frightened out of her
wits. She dare not think about such a
thing, she said. Of course it would be
the making of her if she could marry a
clergyman ; but how could it be done Y
He would have to kuow the history of
her life, and then
" And then he wouldn't have me,"
answered the girl, passionately.
" Of course not, my dear," said Mrs.
Smith ; "at least I should think not."
Shall I tell him Y Shall I confess all
the next time he comes Y"
Again Mrs. Smith is frlghtenod. She
does not like to hlnk what the resultof
that confession will be. They've man
aged at last to find a spot where they
can live unknown. Why must all the
miserable story be brought up again ?
Miss Smith failing to get any practi
cal advice from her mother, thinks the
matter over quietly by herself, and by
the time she sees her admirer again she
has settled on her course of action.
She meets him in the fields that led
to the church.
It was a bright summer morning, and
they paused by a stile to look at the
yellow and red of the far-stretching
fields.
The Rev. Charles Grosvenor com
mences by talking about nature, and
gradually comes down to talking about
himself his alms and prospects In life.
Little by little the conversation slides
into the groove he wished and In live
minutes his hand and fortuue have been
laid at the feet of the lady listener.
He hadn't meant to be so abrupt, he
had meant to keep his secret a little
longer, but it had slipped out accidentally
among the poetry and domestic details,
and he was very glad it was over.
Miss Smith of course wa9 very much
surprised. The dilute had caught ber
hand as his accents grew more impas.
passioned. She allowed hiut to retain it
till he had finished tlieu drew it gently
away.
" Mr. Grosvenor," she iHid, quietly,
" I will answer you fairly and frankly.
Before you made ine bucIi an oHer you
should have ascertained to whom you
were speaking." '
" What do you mean '"'
"You do not kuow who or what I
am."
" I know that you are un nngel."
" Miss Smith's lip curled slightly, but
her Voice trembled as she answered :
" As you have gone so far it is only
right you should know something about
me. My name is not Smith. That is a
false name !"
" A false namel" the parson gasped.
" Dear me 1 why do you want a false
name Y"
" Listen and I will Ull you. Did you
ever hear of a terrible crime for which
two men and two women were con
demned to death V It was called a 'mys
tery' at first. But when the facts came
to light it was called a 'murder.' One
man starved his wife to death, aud the
other people helped him. He wanted to
marry a younger woman, and the young
er woman was one of the accused."
"I remember the case," stammered
the curate. "It was very awful ; but I
don't Bee what you have got to do with
it."
The perspiration stood on his brow,
and he began to mop it with his pocket
handkerchief. He half expected to hear
that Miss Smith was a relative of one of
the criminals.
" You remember," continued the girl,
speaking rapidly now and without emo
tion, "that all four were condemned to
to death, but the young girl was at the
last moment grauted a free pardon and
allowed to return to the world and her
Mends."
" Yes," gasped the clergyman, " I re
member; but what has all this business
to do with you Y"
" ThlB," answered the lady to whom
he had just made an offer of marriage;
" I was the girl that allowed the mur
dered woman's husband to love me I
was the girl who was condemned to be
banged by the neck aud then granted
a free pardon ! I am"
She stopped. The Rev. Charles Gros
veuor had reeled back against the stile
and closed his eyes.
" Excuse me," he muttered, ''a little
falntness, that'B all." I
He pulled himself together, stammer
ed a little, coughed, aud for a minute
seemed at a loss what to say.
She broke the silence first.
" I have told you now the secret of my
life. I am here with my mother, and
here we wish to remain unknown, for
gotten by the world. We are bound to
live under an assumed name. We should
be hooted and stoned If it were known
who we really are. Will you keep my
secret Y"
"Certainly," stammered the curate;
" and I trust "
" That I shall keep yours. Rest as
sured of that, Mr. Grosvenor. I will
forget that anything has happened this
morning beyond the ordinary inter
change of courtesies between clergyman
and parlshouer."
She smiled, bowed and passed on,
He walked back slowly to the church,
muttering to himself, " What au escape
who'd have thought it Y"
The Rev. Charles Grosvenor is still
the curate of Chumleigh, and Miss
Smith aud her mother still live at La
burnum Cottage. The parishoners
however, noticed that the visits of the
clergyman to the cottage are few and
far between, and that when he calls he
is geuerally accompanied by one or the
other of his lady visitors.
And old Dame Turvey, who knows
everything about everybody, and is a
great authority on village matters, as
sures every one that she can't make It
out at all, for at one time she was quite
sure that the parson was sweet in that
quarter, and she quite expected that
Miss Smith would have presided at (he
parsonage tea table.
"Something must have happened
very unexpected to break it ail off,"
concludes the worthy dame, for it was
all altered in a minute."
Dame Turvey is right for once. What
happened was very unexpected, and it
made such an impression on the Rev.
Charles Grosvenor that he will remem
ber it to the end of his life.
Under the Water.
GEORGE W. TOWNSEND, a well
kuowu submarine diver, has been
interviewed by a representative of the
Boston JJerald. He said: "The first
time a man goes down he is apt to be
considerably scared on account ot the
pressure. If a man is lowered too fast it
will kill him. Divers are seldom or nev
er killed by drowning, but by au une
qualed amouut of pressure. A diver
could cut a hole in the lower portion of
his suit without dauger of beiug drown
ed so long as he stood erect, for as long
as the air is supplied by the air pump,
the water cauuot reach his mouth. Iu
deep water the pressure is usually very
great, and a diver cau descend as deep as
he can stund the pressure. You see we
are iu a vacuum. There is no pressure
perceptible to us on the copper helmet
about our heads. The pressure is all on
the lower garments, aud, if it U too
great, it drives all the blood in the body
to the head and the result is death. I
have seen men killed iu this way whose
heads were fairly split open aud whose
eyes were driven from the sockets. A
more horrible death could not be imag
ined, aud I aud almost all other divers
have narrowly escaped it. When a di
ver is ten feet down, the pressure to the
square foot is 0250 pounds; and at 30 feet,
18,750 pounds ; and at 00 feet, 31,250
pounds ; at TO feet, 43,750 pounds ; at 00
feet, 50,230 pounds; at 110 feet, 09,700
pouuds;atl30 feet, 81,250 pounds; at
150 feet, which Is the greatest depth to
which I have descended, 03,750 pounds;
and at 100 feet, 100,000 pounds. Divers
seldom descend over 100 feet, and rarely
as deep as that. Under the water the
ears feel stopped up, but sometimes we
make ourselves understood by putting
two helmets together and shouting,
but then it doesn't sound louder than an
ordiuary whl sper. A man who went
down for the first time would be likely
to signal to come up after feeling the
pressure in the ears, which is very un
pleasant until you are used to it."
" How about the fish ; do they molest
youY
" Very seldom. You see we made it
a rule not to disturb them. We know
that tbey are In their element, and we
are not in ours. As for sharks we don't
care for them. They are cowardly, and
easily frightened off. We are much
more afraid of the baricotus, a surface
fish, with teeth three inches long. Talk
about fish, why, one can't have any
conception of them until he'hasbeeu
under the water and seen them all sizes
and colors of the rainbow. The noise
made by a school of fish souuds under
the water like the rumbling of thunder.
One of the greatest curiosities in this
Hue was the Jew fish I encountered
while diving in the Bay ofCumaua, on
the coast of Venezeula. The fish are
from six to fifteen feet In length, and
have a large mouth, with small teeth.
The Jew fish have a great deal of curios
ity more than any woman I kuow of
aud used to eye us while we were at
work. We were a little afraid of them
at first, but found they would not harm
us. I suppose you have heard of the
electric eel, which has the power to give
a shock equal to a battery. When we
were diving at the West Indies one of
our divers received a shock from an
electrlo eel, and for a time seemed almost
paralyzed. Mules and other animals,
when fording streams in thhr country,
often receive a severe shock.
"It depends how clear the water is,
whether It is dusk or not. I have been
down 20 fathoms where I could see to
read the finest print, and I have been
down 10 feet where you could not see
your hand before you. It la not very
pleasant exploring a wreck, especially
where there are bodies, wheu you are iu
utter darkness. We got used to those,
and, while we can't say that we don't
mind them, I can say that they don't
deter us from going down. I am one of
those who believe that drowning is an
easy death, comparatively, because I
have noticed that the face ot a
drowned person looks as if he had gone
to sleep, aud seldom denotes pain, but,
when the eyes are wide open glassy in
appearance, and the gas In the stomach
makes the body stand bolt upright, It la
rather trying to the nerves. Sometimes
we find drowned persons with a death
grip upon a piece of rigging or the side
of a bunk, and it is very difficult to un
loose their hold. Before we see a body
or any object under water we always see
its shadow first. In looking for a body
not on a vessel's wreck, we sometimes
find it by closely following the sedi
ments in the water.
In many places the bottom of the
ocean Is beautiful, especially where the
coral reefs are. Coral is like a forest of
trees that has been cut down-. I have
eeeu coral as large as the stump of any
tree you ever saw, with enormous limbs
running downward, the trunk and
branches being of the pure white coral.
I have encountered a reef after descend
ing three fathoniB, and a bottom of the
pure white sand after descending two
fathoms more."
Boys, Get a Plug Hat.
An exchange says : " The plug hat ls
virtually a sort of social guarantee for
the preservation of peace and order. He
who puts one on has given a hostage to
the community for his good behavior.
t The wearer of a plug hat must move
with a certain Bedateness and propriety.
He cannot run, or Jump, or romp, or get
into a fight except at the peril of his
head gear. All the hidden influences of
the beaver are toward respectability. He
who wears one is .obliged to keep the
rest of his body in decent trim, that
there may be no Incongruity between
head and body. He is apt to become
thoughtful through the necessity of
watching the sky whenever he goes out.
The chances are that he will buy an ,
umbrella, which is another guarantee
for good behavior, and the care of a hat "
and umbrella perpetual and exacting as
it must ever be adds to the sweetness of
his character.. The man who wears a
plug hat naturally takes to the society of
women, with all the elevated tendencies.
He cannot go bunting or fishing with
out abandoning his beloved hat, but in
the moderate enjoyment of croquet and
lawn tennis he may sport his beaver
with impunity. In other words the
constant use of a plug lint makes a man
composed in manner, quiet aud gentle
manly in conduct, and u companion of
the ladies. The inevitable result is mar
riage, prosperity and church member
ship." A Doctor's Dilemma.
A physician, being summoned to at.
tend a miser's wife In her last illness,
declined to continue his visits unless he
had some legal guarantee for payment,
as he knew by experience the slippery
character of the husband where pecunla- .
ry obligations were concerned. The
miser there upon drew up a document,
formally promising, after haggling over
the amount, that he would pay to Dr.
So-and So the sum of , " if he cures
my wife." "Stop!" said the doctor.
"I cannot undertake to do that. I will
treat her to the best of my ability ; but
she is very 111, and I fear she will not
recover." So the sentence was altered
to, " For attendance upon my wife, kill
or cure," the paper signed and delivered
over to the physician. His skill was
unavailing, and the patient dies, but
when the bill came in the widower qui
etly repudiated the debt in toto. In
valn.it was represented to bim that the
doctor held his legal acknowledgment;
so the latter sued him In perfect confi
dence of gaining the day. The miser
did not dispute the circumstances in
Court, but requested to see the document,
which he then read aloud with great de
liberation. " And did you cure my wife,
sir Y" he asked, glancing over his specta
cles at the plaintiff, "No; that was
impossible." "Did you kill herY"
Verdict for the defendant. Doctor sold.
fcZT Happiness la like , a sunbeam,
which the least shadow Intercepts, while
adversity is often as the rain of spring.