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C. T. Alexander. C. M. Bower. ATTORNEYS AT LAW, BELLEFONTK, PA. Office In Qarman's new building. JOHN B. LINN, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BELLEFONTK, PA. Office on Allegheny Street. OLEMENT DALE, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLEFONTK, FA. Northwest corner of Diamond. ALTORNEYS AT LAW, BELLEFONTK, PA. High Street, opposite First National Bank. C. HEINLE, * ATTORNEY AT LA W, BELLEFONTK, PA. Practices In all the courts of Centre Connty. Spec al attention to Collections. Consultations In German or English. iLBUR F * FEEDER, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BELLEFONTK, PA. All bus'ness promptly attended to. Collection of claims a speciality. J. A. Beaver. J W. Gephart. ATTORNEYS AT LAW, BELLEFONTK, PA. Office on Alleghany Street, North of High. y A. MORRISON, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BELLKFONTE, PA. Offlce on Woodrlng's Block, Opposite Court House. S. KELLER, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BELLEFONTK, PA. consultations in English or German. Office • In Lyon's Building, Allegheny Street. JOHN G. LOVE, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BELLEFONTK PA. Offlce In the rooms formerly occupied by the late w. p. Wilson. I an, the Man. On the way to l'erre ilaute, a traveler, with the air and appearance of a man who knew it all, approached the fat passenger, and said, in the shocked tones of a man of flue feelings : "Wasn't it dreadful ?" "I should eay it was," the fat passenger replied. "Did you hear about it?" the traveler continued more impressive than ever. "I saw it," the fat passenger replied, even more impressively. There was an awkward silence of several minutes between them, and the traveler went back to his seat with a discouraged ex pression. Presently he came forward and approached the tall, thin passenger. "Sir," he said, "did you know they were taking up a collect on lor his fam ily?" "I should pause to hesitate," said the tall, thin passenger. "1 headed the list with a $lO note myself." The smart traveler's countenance drop ped, but he spoke still hopefully : "Ah, you heard of the sad circumstance, then ?" "Heard of it," exclaimed the tall, thin passenger. "I was mixed up in it all the way through. The smart traveler sighed and once more resumed his seat. His face brightened up after awhile, and he came to the front ouce more, laying his hand softly on the arm of the sad passenger. "Sir," he said, "did you know the tram run over a man at the last station ?" "He was my only brother," suid the sad passenger in a bashful manner. And then he # bent his head forward and coveied his face with his hand The smart traveler looked really distress ed. But he rallied by-and-by, and in a last determined effort he approached the man on the wood box. Assuming an expres sion of the most intense horror, he said: "Pitiful heavens 1 I am faint with fear and horror yet! Did you know the train struck a man on that bridge and tore him to pieces ?' The man en the wood box leaned for ward, shaded his mouth with his hand, and said, in a thrilling whisper, that went his sing down the car. "tSh 1 Dont give it away, but I am the man 1" it seemed to be about time to close the lodge, MR. PRIM went nailing, auu on his re turn told some terrific lies about \bat he caught. Said sharp to him, "What do you want to tell such yarns as that for? Tell something possible, if not probable. Don t you know that everybody saw that you were lying?" "Yes," answered Prim. Then, what the blazes did you do it for ?" "Why, I wanted them to know I was ly iug. I didn't want them to think I was eccentric." "Is the weather on Mt. Washington any better or more certain than it used to be ?" inq lired Pingrey of a friend who spends his summers at the White Mountains. "Well, I don't know that it is," said his fnend; "why do you ask?" "1 heard that since they built the railroad, the tourists had a different climb it. That's all," added Pingrey, as he cut his name in big letters on the office furniture. iie ptllbeim §®ifr§al THE WORLD AS I FIND IT. They say the world'd a weary place, Where tears are never dried, Where pleasures pass like breath on glass, And only woes abide. It may bo so—l cannot know- Yet this 1 dare to say. My lot has had more glad than sad. And so it has to-day. They say that love's a cruel jest; They tell of women's w lies— That poison dips in pouting lips. And death in dimpled Million. It may la- SO— I cannot know- Yet sure of this I am. One heart is found alwvo the ground, Whose love Is uot a sham. They say that life's a bitter curse- That hearts are made to ache, That jest and song are bravely wrong, And health a vast mistake. It may be so—l cannot know— But let them talk their till; 1 like tuy life, I love my wife. And mean to do so still. THK NKW IXM'TOK. "I think I will try tin 1 now d<x*tor." Esther Warren spoke in a faint half pleading tone, sis if she expected to moot h storm of objections, but somewhat to her sunrise, her aunt Martha said: "I would if I wore you." "Dr. Wyek, it would seem, has tried his utmost skill fir the last live years, sighed Esther, wearily, "and 1 get no bettor. It may bo Dr. Dun will know of some new remedy." "I will write to Dr. Dim now," said Miss Martha. "I will see Robert har ness up to drive to the town.' It was a very brief note, merely re questing Dr. Dun to call upon Miss Warren at his earliest convenience, yet Miss Martha's pen traveled very slowly over the paper, and she kept her head to one side, lest a tear drop should mar the neat letters. Five years before there had been no brighter, stronger maiden in all Millville than Esther warren, only child of Rate's Warren, who had made an enormous for. time in iron, and held Esther as the choicest of all this earth's treasures. At eighteen her father was killed and she seriously crippled in a railway col lision. Her hands and arms were strong as ever, her brain clear, but her lower limbs were utterly without power. Heiress to immense wealth she was almost a prisoner in her splendid home, subject to attacks of pain that prostrated her for days, suffering intensely. Books, needlework and a feeble attempt at drawing helped to till the time; but it was not easy to be patient, and Esther was not yet perfectly saint like, although she tried to t>e submissive. Dr. Dun's practice was small, and much of his time at his own control, but he was an enthusiast in his profession, and gladly took much of the old doctor's gratuitous practice off" his hands. He had come to Millville as Dr. Wyck's assistant, to take his place when he re tired, but the patients of the old doctor were a little shy of the new one. "Ah —yes!" said Dr. Wyck, reading Miss Martha's note. 'Little Essie IV ar ren! Sad case,' and the doctor entered into a long description of the case, sum ming up in the words, 'Utterly hopeless! She may live for years, but she will never walk or stand.' It seemed to Herbert Dun when he entered the beautiful room where Esther Warren spent her long diking hours, that life even with pain, must be pleas ant surrounded by such luxury, and the rare exquisite beauty of Esther's face, pale, it is true, but delicately lovely, was a jewel worthy ef exquisite setting. There was a little flush upcm the inva lid's cheeks as the new doctor took a chair beside her, a light of hope in her large eyes that made his heart ache. It was not long before Esther Warren under the grave professional manner, felt the power of his sympathy, and found herself expressing more freely than she had ever before spoken the hope that filled her heart, fully satisfied when Dr. Dun said: "In a case of such long standing I cannot express an opinion at once, Miss Warren; but depend on me to give my my most earnest study and care to it." But if Dr. Dun could not restore strength to Esther Warren's crippled body it was not long before she felt her life flooded with a new strange happiness. The hour that the new doctor spent with her every morning gladdened the whole day. He was not a conceited man, and Essie seemed to him like a child, so that he was blind to the fact that he was gaining the heart of the crippled heiress. So when Martha invited him to spend some chance evenings there he went. Essie was to him a patient; one who called on his professional skill frequently to care the most agonising suffering: and if he could also make some of her long, lonely hours any blighter he gladly con tributed his liveliest talk, his best tenor songs, his most courteous manner to the service. But he never thought she loved him until Dr. Wyck answered his application for a month's holiday. "Spare you? Why, yes, I suppose I can get along. But I am afraid I have made a muddle of sending you to Esther Warren. Why didn't you tell me that you were engaged? "I waited until I could offer Annie a home." <<You you couldn't break your en gagement, I suppose. You know you could have Esther Warren and her for tune for asking." "I never thought of such a thing." "Perhaps you had better consider it, Now, tlo not imagine that Emtio has taken me into her confidence." "She is as maidenly and modest as lite most fastidious lover could wish," con tinued the old doctor; "hut 1 have known her and loved her since she was a baby, and I can read her heart. Poor child." His sigh was echoed by l)r. Dun. "Will you believe me if 1 tell you that 1 never dreamed of this?" he said, earn estly. "Miss Warren seemed to me set apart by her suffering from earthly pas sions, and 1 should have us soon thought of loving a saint," "She is very rich." "Yes, 1 am glad she has every allevia tion money can give her," said l)r. Dun, not appreciating the implied hint. "And Miss Leigh; Is she wealthy?" "My Annie? Bless you, no! But we are not afraid. I shall continue to live here for a few months, because Annie will select and furnish a house so much better than 1 can; but it will be the tiniest cottage." "Well, you can go," said the old doc tor, "and take mv best wishes for your happiness." But he said it in a dull, heavy tone, and his face was very grave when he called upon Esther. "You must take me back for a month," he said, as cheerfully as if his heart was not like lead in his Ikjsoiu. "My assist ant has gone away." Then he looked at Esther's fernery, as if his whole soul was absorbed ill ferns, and added: "He has gone home to be married. It is quite romantic. A long engagement, with the wedding jKistiHiiied by poverty on l>oth sides." He heard a quick, gasping breath, but did not turn his head, as he continued: "What luck you have with your ferns. My maidenhair will never grow as yours does. Mrs. Wyck says that raising flow ers or fenis is a gift. She does not suc ceed as you do," and so on, and so on, until a clear voice, low, sweet aud per fectly quiet, interrupted— "Dr. Wyck, please come ami sit here and tell me alwmt Dr. Dun." Ho told her all he knew. "I feel very grateful to the doctor," Essie said, "for he has been more than kind, and I should like to make his wife a wedding present. 1 hope we shall lie friends." "I hope so," the doctor said." "He left her soon after, stopping in the hall to mutter: "I had rather face the worst surgical operation I ever performed than repeat that." But Essie made no moan. Even Martha could only guess her pain, and before the new doctor returned to Millville his patient was her sweet placid self again. But at the station Dr. Dun and his happy wife found Robert, the coachman, waiting with a carriage. "Miss Esther's compliments, doctor," he said, "and will you allow me to drive you home?" It was bewildering to be driven to the prettiest of cottages which was brilliantly lighted. A little maid-servant opened the door, and ushered the way to a drawing-room daintily furnished, where a note was laid conspicuously upon the table. "It was directed to "Mrs. Herbert Dun," and begged the acceptance of cottage and contents from the "doctor's grateful patient, Esther Warren." "Ours! "the bride cried. This pretty home is ours!" And a happy home it proved as well as a pretty one. Martha had made it as attractive and complete as possible, every room hand somely furnished, and many tritlcs of Essie's own work adding to its beauty, and the doctor accepted it with a most earnest resolution to pay her for it if skill and kindness could ever do so. There is no more welcome visitor in the beautiful home of the crippled heir ess than Annie Dunn, and if the children of the pretty cottage ever have a griev ance, they are sure of sympathy and comfort from Essie, who stands in the place of a guardian angel in their hearts. But there has never come to Essie any dream of love since she took Herbert Dunn and his wife into the place of beloved brother and sister. Coney Island. Everybody has heard of this popu lar summer resort of the New York ers with its splendid hotels, the Man hattan, the Brighton, and the Oriental. It lies directly 011 the Ocean, and the pure sea air, safe bathing, and excellent music, make one forget the heats of summer. The Pennsylvania Rail road Company, and the Iron Steamboat Company of New York,have entered into arrangements by which extra facilities are offered for reaching Coney Island,this popular summer resort. These palace steamers will connect with trains on the Pennsylvania Railroad at Jersey City, and land passengers at the Iron Pier, Coney Island, direct, also at Bay Ridge, where connection is made with the New York and Sea Beach Railroad. Return trips will he made at such hours as will afford satisfactioii to all visitors to the island, and enable them to make sure and close connections with trains on the Pennsylvania Railroad homeward bound. The time on this line between Jersey City and Coney Island will be about forty minutes. This will be a safe, speedy, and pleasant route from all points to Coney Island. IT Joes n<always follow that a man is a sculptor because he chisels his tailor out of a suit of clothes. MILLIIEIM. PA., THURSDAY, JULY 28, JBBI. Solving u Tough Problem. One day Jack Marland, on going to the gallery of M. Lepage with one of his friends, found it occupied by a young man well known as one of the best shots in Paris; and nu>st assuredly he was a good shot. He performed all the feats which tradition assigns to the Chevalier St. George; he each time hit the hull's eye of the target at the usual distance, snuffed a candle with the bull, split a bullet against the edge of a knife, and drove a nail into a wall by striking the head directly in the center with his ball; aud, in short, by a thousand feats of this nature proved himself worthy the name of a tirst-rate shot. Hi amour propre was roused by tlit* presence *f Jack, whom the attendant, in presenting him with the pistol, quietly said was ulinoMt us good a shot as himself, but tit each shot, instead of re ceiving from Jack the tribute of praise which he deserved, he heard Jack, in reply to the exclamation of ustonishment which proceeded from all in the gallery, say "No doubt, that is a very good shot, but the result would lie very different, I've a notion, if he had a live man for his butt." This incessant calling in ques tion of his iowers as s duelist, for Jack had repeated his observation throe times, at first astonished the "tircur" and end ed by annoying him; and, at length, turning round to Jack, and looking at him with an air half threatening, he said: "Forgive me, Mr. Englishman, but it ap peal's to me that three times you have made an observation disparaging to my cour age; will you IK? kind enough to give me some explanation of the meaning of your words?" "My words," answered our friend, "do not, I think, require any explanation; they are plain enough in my opinion." "Perhaps then, sir, you will be good enough to repeat them, in order that I may judge of the meaning which they w ill l>ear, and the object with which they have been spoken," was the reply of the Frenchman. "1 said," answered Jack, with the most |K*rfect natty froid, "when I saw you hit the bull's-eye at every shot, that neither your hand nor your eye would be so steady, if your pistol were pointed against the breast of a man in the place of a wooden partition." "And why, may I ask?" "Because," answered Jack, "It seems to me, that at the moment of pulling the trigger, and tiring at a mini, the mind would be seized with a kind of emotion likely to unsteady the hand, and conse quently the aim." "You have fought many duels?" asked the Frenchman. "Not one," said Jack. "Ah! rejoined the other with a slight sneer, "then I am not surprised that you suppose the possibility of a man la'ing afraid under such circutuotances." "Forgive me," said Jack, "yoU misun derstood me. I fancy that at the moment when one man is altout to kill another, he may tremble from some other emotion than that of fear. "Sir! I never tremble," said the shot. "Possibly," replied Jack, with the same comix.sure; "still I am not at all convinced, that at twenty-live paces, that is, at the distance at which you hit the bull's-eye each, time " "Weil, at twenty paces?" interrupted the other. "You would miss your man," was the cool reply. "Sir, 1 assure you I should not, "ans wered the Frenchman. "Forgive me if I doubt your word," said Jack. "You mean then to give me the lie?" "I merely assert the fact," replied our friend. "A fact, however, which 1 think you would scarcely like to establish," said the "ret cur." "Why not?" s:tid Jack, looking steadi ly at his antagonist. "By proxy, perhaps?" "By proxy, or in mv own person jx r liaps, 1 care not which," said Jack. 1 warn you, you would be somew hat rash." "Not at all," said Jack, for I merely say what I think; and, consequently, my conviction is that I should risk but little." "Let us understand each other," said the Frenchman; "you repeat to me a second time, that at twenty-live paces I should miss my man." "You are mistaken, monsieur," said Jack; "it appears to me that this is the fifth time that I have said it." "Parbleu?" said the Frenchman, now thoroughly exasperated, "this is too much; you want to insult me." "Think as you like, monsieur," said Jack. "Good!" said the other, "your hour, sir?" "Why not now?" said Jack. "The place," said the other. "We are luit five steps from the Bois de Bologne," cried Jack. "Your arms, sir?" "The pistol, of course," was Jack's an swer, "we are not about to tight a duel, but to decide a point upon which we are at issue." The two young men entered their ca briolets, each accompanied by a friend, and drove towards the Bois de Bologne. Arrived at the appointed place, the sec onds wished to arrange the matter. This however, was very difficult; Jack's ad versary required an apology, whilst Jack maintained that he owed him none; un less he himself was either killed or wounded; for unless this happened, he (Jack) would not have been proved wrong. The seconds spent a quarter of an hour in the attempt to effect a recon ciliation, but in vain. They then wished to place the antagonists at thirty paces from each other; to this Jack would not consent, observing that the point in question could not be correctly decided, if any difference were made between the ddstance now to be fixed, and the dis tance at which his antagonist had hit the bull's-eye in the gallery. It was then proposed that a Louis should be thrown up in order to decide who was to shoot first; this Jack declared was totally un necessary, that the right to the first shot naturally belonged to his adversary, and although the Frenchman was anxious that Jack should take advantage of this one chance, he was firm and carried his point. The "garcon" of the shooting gallery had followed, and was ready to charge the pistols, which he did with the same measure, the same kind of powder, and the same kind of balls as those used by the Frenchman in the gallery a short time la-fore. The pistols, too, were the same; this condition alone Jack had im posed, as a nine yua non. The antagon ists, placed at twenty-five paces from each other, received each his pistol; and the seconds retired a few paces, in order to leave the combatants free to fire oil one another, according to the stipulated ar rangement. Jack baik none of the precautions usu al with duellists: lie attempted not to shield any part of his body, by position or any other means; but allowed his arms to hang down at his side, presented liis full front to his enemy, who scarcely knew what to make of this extraordinary conduct. He had fought several duels, but it had never been his lot to see such win/ J'roid in any one of his antagonists; he felt as if bewildered; and Jack's theory occurring to his mind, tended but little to reassure him; in short this celebrated shot, who had never missed either his man or the bull's-eye of the target, lie gun to doubt his own powers. Twice he raised his pistol, and twice he lowered it again; this was of course contrary to all the laws of duelling; but each time Jack contented himself with saying: "Take time, monsieur! take time." A third time he raised his arm, and finding ashamed of himself, fired. It was a mo ment of the most painful anxiety to the seconds; but, they were si am relieved, for Jack, the instant after the pistol had lieen fired, turned to the right aud to the left, and made a low laiw to tin* two friends, to show that he was not wound mi, and then said, daily, to his antagon ist, "You, see, sir, I was right!" "You were," answered the Frenchman; "and now fire, in your turn." "Not I," said Jack, picking up his hat, and handing the pistol to the garcon; "what good would it do me to sluait at you?" "But sir," said his adversary, "you have a right, and I cannot permit it to lie otherwise; la-sides I am anxious to see how you sluait." "Let us understand each other," said Jack. "I never said that I would hit you; / said, that you would not hit me; you have uot hit me; I was right; and now there Is an end to the matter;" and in spiti* of all the remonstrances and entreaties of the Frenchman, Jack mounted his cab, aud drove off, repeat ing to his friend, "I told you there was a mighty difference between tiring at a doll uml firing at a man." Jack's mind was eased; he had solved his problem, and found that he was not a coward. Kr-1 Archer. Fred Archer, the man who rode the American horae Iroquois, to victory at the late Derby race in England, was lHru on January 11th, 1856. His family had always been famous for their powers of horsemanship, and his father was a well-known performer between the Hags, and as recently as 1858, or two years af ter Fred was l>orn, he rode and won the Liverpool Grand National upon Little Charley. Before Fred was ten years old he showed that he knew how to stick on a horse, and it was resolved that he should IH brought up as a jockey. He was apprenticed to Matthew Dawson, of the Heath House, Newmarket, with whom he has remained ever since. At the early age of fourteen so thoroughly proficient had he become in the business that he was given amount on Athol Daisy for the Nursery Handicap at Chester field, which he won on Septemler 28, 187b, previous to which he had ridden and won a match on a pony belonging to Mrs. Willan Matthew Dawson, and all connected with the Heath House stables recognizing that they had a very promising light-weight in Archer, gave him every chance possible, and his first success in any great event was on Sal vanos for the Cesarewicli in 1872, which he rode at 77 pounds. In this race he showed a wonderful amount of ability, coolness and judgment of pace, which foretold the brilliant career in store for him. During the remaihder of that and the following seasons he did not ride, but in 1874 he began a series of brilliant seasons which at the end of 1880 show ed a total of no less than 1,430 suecessfxd mounts. As early as 1870 he had al ready won the confidence of Lord Fal mouth, and although his riding weight was little more than 88 pounds, he rode Atlantic for the 2,(KM) guineas at 122 pounds and won. Since then he has won all the classic events—the Derby in 1877 with Silvio, in 1880 with Bend Or and in 1881 with Iroquois. With Jannette and Wheel of Fortune lie took the Oaks in 1878 and 1879. Silvio and Jannette in 1877 and 1878 were his winning St. Leg er mounts and besides Atlantic in 18741 ie won the 2,0(M) guineas with Charibert in 1879, while for the 1,000 guineas he rode Spinaway and Wheel of Fortune in 1875 and 1879, all with the exception of Iro quois and Bend Or being the property of Lord Falmouth. Five times in six years Archer has won the City and Suburban, viz., on Thunder, Julius Cresar, Parole, Master Kildare and Bend Or. With Parole Archer also took the Great Metropolitad Handicap in 1879. Twice he has won the Dewhurst Plate with Wheel of Fortune and Bal Gal, but singular as it may seem he has never been able to run a place for the Middle Park Plate. It is utterly impossible to mention all the important events Archer has won, he being alike at home in a dash of half a mile or at a distance, and as he is still able to ride at 118 pounds or a trifle less, he will no doubt be kept busy in the saddle all the present season although he went in partnership with Matthew Dawson last January as a trainer. If he is as successful as a trainer as he has been as a jockey he will cer tainly have a wonderful career. He has already built for himself a very hand some and comfortable residence in close proximity to the Heath House stables, but is as yet said to be unmarried. I/ESTRANGE says: ''So long as we stand boggling at imaginary evils let us never blame a horse for starting at a shadow." TUB young man who wrote and asked his girl to accept a "bucket" of flowers be came a little pale when she said she wood en't ware it, SI 00.000.000. For more than three hundred years the mines of Pachuea have been worked by the Mexicans—first by the Mexicans pure and simple, then by the Spaniards ami now again by Mexicai s who would scorn tin? name of Spaniard, though his blood mingles in their veins. Here in this very town was discovered the pro cess of amalgamation now in use to-day, by which ull the precious ores dug from the mountain are made to yield their silver. Yes, more, the very hacienda is still worked and profitably, in which, in 1857, Sciior Medina made that discovery so valuable to Mexico. Senor Medina has passed away, it is presumed, but his memory still lives. The English colony comprises about 350 men, women and children, from the mining district of Cornwall. The first Cornish miners came here alsmt fifty years ago, intro ducing English machinery ami modes of working the mines, much to the lieuefit of the owners. Some of the original numlier are still living, though very few, and all here now agree as to the health fulness of the climate as a place of resi dence for English people. Though some of them have acquired wealth and some have retired to old England with enough and to spare, the majority have earned little more than a living. Pre carious property arc these mines, except in exceptional cases. The most note worthy of all the instances of poor men striking it rich is that of the Santa Ger tnnlis mine, which is now "in lionanza." It had la-en successively worked and abandoned years and years ago, and was finally "pronounced"—or taken to work —by a Cornishman, who has just died. Forming a small company in 1877, he commenced active work. After it was proven that the mine was paying he sold out his share—nine twenty-fifths—for 315,(HK). Since then, one twenty-fifth lias sold for 3811,000, the present price per liana or share. This would give at that rate 3720,000 for what he got but 315,000 for. The mine has been "in bonanza" now for three years and is yielding alsiut 3,(KM) curgas of 300 pounds each of metal weekly, and giving a clear profit of 31,000 per day. From June, 1877, to March, 1881, the mine pr<sluoed 32,800,000 and declared thirty two dividends of 320,000 each—3o4o,ooo. ■ln June, 1877, there was but one shaft |of sixty varas—a vara is a little less than a yard—now the deejiest shaft is 170 varas ; there is a powerful pumping and hoisting engine, many large buildings, and idl the appurtenoes of a mine in this section, all paid for. With all this pro fit, present and prospective, all the ore obtained here is sent to be reduced to Regla, a distance of seven leagues. This mine, which is located less than two miles from the center of Pachuea, is owned principally by men who were piair at the time they commenced to work it. There are, it is said, two dis tinct lodes, running parallel and at less than fifty yarils from each other. At first the vein worked was only a vara wide, but as they went down they found a cavern filled with "metallic mush," twenty-four feet wide. They were at first compelled to timlier around a great deal, for the sake of economy, taking out merely enough to meet current ex penses. What remained was "pure black sulphurets, which exhumed glob ules of native silver when exposed to fire." One can trace the silver lode as it crops out alx>ve the surface and runs diagonally across the hills ; and if appearances are good for anything, the two new mines of Dr. Skilton, the Santo Teams el Nuevo and the Santa Catarina, to the west of Santa Gertruilis, are right in the silver track. We visited these latter, which are at present operated by the old-fashioned Mexican mode, the metal being brought up in bullock skins by means of long ropes of maguey fibre wound almut a large drum operated by mules or horses. The whole district abounds in picturesque features, but none more so than these primitive mines. One hundred million dollars taken from one mine in thirty years ! This is the amount declared on good authority to have been extracted from the Rosario mine since it was started in 1850, and the books show that there has lieen paid $500,000 per share in dividends ! A Knowing Iforsc. Water Superintendent Bush,of Spring field, Massachusetts, has a horse about which some wonderful stories are told. The animal has been in the family for several years, and since the water-works were built lias aided its owner largely in superintending them. Mr. Bush's headquarters are at L. R. Norton's store and there Huldah stands most of the time ready for any emergency. It is said that she knows the location of every hydrant and can scent a leak in the water pipes in any part of the town. If in doubt about it she will start alone for the suspected spot, and, not finding anything the matter there, will sheepish ly return to her post. But, if there is a genuine leak, then she trots rapidly back to get her master. Sometimes it happens that Mr. Bush needs assistance in reparing the break, and in such cases he simply says, "Huldah, go and get Pat and Mike, I want them to help me." The animal trots off to the houses of the Celts, and they, understanding what it means, jump in the carnage and are carried to the place. If, while the leak is being attended to, a tool is re quired that is not at hand, Mr. Bush ties a slip of paper to the whip, explaining what is needed, tells the horse the name of the implement he wants and the intelligent animal goes straight to headquarters, and when the needed tool is found starts back with it. Sometimes the wrong tool has been in tentionally put into the buggy to deceive, but she is too smart for such tricks and refuses to start until she is given what the note calls for. Innumerable stories of this sort are related of the animal's intelligence which one can believe or disbelieve as they please. Certain it is that the horse is mofe than ordinarily in telligent, and shows in that line, as well as in gentleness and affection for its owner, the effect of kind treatment— it never having been struck a blow or been struck a blow or been spoken cross ly to since coming into Mr. Bush's possession. Profit* For May. Old Pinchem sat in his private office the other day figuring up his profits for May, when his head clerk, looking as pale as a sheep and as red as a cow by turns, entered and began: " Mr. Pinchem, I—l " ''Have you got those goods off for Kalamazoo ? interrupted the old man. "Yes, sir, they are off, Mr. Pinchem, I have long " '' And about that order for starch ?" " That has been attended to, sir. Mr. Pinchem, I have long wanted to speak to you." "Ah ! speak to me. Why, I thought you Hpoke to me fifty times a day." " Yes sir, I know, but this is a private matter." "Private? Oh! Ah! Wait till I see how much we made on that last 10,000 pounds of soap. Six times four are twenty-four; five times two are ten. and two to carry are twelve; three times seven are twenty-one and one—ah, well, go ahead ; I'll finish tliis afterwards." " Mr. Pinchem, I have l>een with you ten long years." "Ten, eh? Long years eh? Any longer than any other years ? Go ahead." " And I have always tried to do my duty." Have, eh? Goon." "And I now make bold—" " Hold on! What is there bold alout it? But never mind—l'll hear you out." " Mr. Pinchem, I want to ask—ask— I want to ask—" "Well, why don't you ask then? I don't see why vou don't ask, if you want to." " Mr. Pinchem, I want to ask you for —for—for—" " You wan't to ask me for the hand of my daughter. Ah! Why didn't you si>eak right out ? She's yours, my boy ! Take her and be happy. You might have had her two years ago if you had mentioned it. Go 'long, now— I'm busy." "Mr. Pinchem." " What, you here yet? Well, what is it?" " I wanted to ask you for, for—" "Didn't I give her to you, you rascal!" " Yes, but what I wanted to ask you for w as, not the hand of your daughter, but for a raise of salary." " Oh, that was it, eh ? Well, sir, that is an entirely different matter, and it requires time for serious thought and earnest consultation. Return to your work, and some time next fall I'll see about giving you a raise of a dollar a week. Six times four are twenty-four and two to carry ; and three times " .Some Wonderful Arab Hone*. Somewhere about 1780, it appears to me, the search after Eastern horses began to languish, and then gradually, died out One reason was that the aris tocratic importers found, let them work never so hard, they could not equal that "first regimental charger" on which Capt. Byerly of the Boyne, otherwise obscure, has ridden into everlasting re nown, or the Paris cart-horse, or the Turkey merchant's unhoped-for treasure from Aleppo. I regret this, because the very highest specimens of Barb and Arab, like the very highest specimens of our English race-horse, must be few and far between. Had our wealthy breeders persevered, other accidental wonders, once and again, might have fallen into their hands, and even short of that, valuable qualities would have kept infus ing themselves into horses of every de scription, together with an unfailing flow of Eastern blood. To show how much accident has to do with such mat ters ; There was an Eastern screw, belonging to the surgeon of the Ninetieth Regiment, at Zante, in 1828. He was a flea-bitten gray, standing somewhere about 15 hands 2 inches. Turk, Barb, Arab, or a mixture of all three, nobody knew. He was not regularly trained, and far from being in a racing condition; he was, therefore, naturally thought nothing of at first. But to the astonish ment of the military mind, when races were established there under high New market superintendence, neither tho roughbred chargers from home nor Barbs and Arabs—many of them horses of merit belonging to the Greek gentle men of the place—had the shadow of a chance with him ; he scuttled away from all competitors in the most unexpected style, and may, for aught I know, have been a second Godolphin in disguise. In Cyprus. The Cypriote makes niglit hideous with his bowlings, laboring under the impression that he is musical The noise or music to which he jumps is chiefly produced by Bcraping one—the treble—string of a little fiddle with great rapidity, and has to all appear ances been learned from the mosquito, which it mimics with considerable ac curacy. The fiddle is generally accom panied by the bourdon of a zither, which copies well the wearing screech of the cicala. When the native Greek breaks into song he produces a brief nasal drone, whose melancholy sound is often repeated. The boys never whistle ; but the children, chiefly the girls, from time to time, with a voice from the head and nose produce a short tune, which never exceeds two or three bars. With all this they have wondrous lungs. The men will send their clear voices ringing through the pure dry air across the country-side ; in the streets and on the roads they converse, preferably it would almost seem, from a distance in loud tones. When on fine evenings—and all evenings are fine in Cyprus for months together—whole families sit in the lanes outside their doors, they do not take the trouble to move in order to visit their neighbors, but shout to them with shrill distinctness as they sit. The result is a babel of noise, for all shout together. Notwithstanding that, they seem to make themselves intelligible. Stove lustre, when mixed with turpen tine and applied in the usual manner, is blacker, more glossy and durable than if put on with any other liquid. The turpentine prevents rust,and when put on an old rusty stove will make it look as well as new. The odor of the turpentine passes off quickly. NO. 30.