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H ARTER, AUCTIONEER, MILLHEIM, FA. J C. STRINGER, Fa all ion able Barber, Next Door to JOURNAL Store, MILLHKIH, PA. JJROCKERHOFF HOUSE, ALLEGHENY STREET, BELLEFONTE, - - - PA- C- O. McMILLEN, PROPRIETOR. Good Sample Room on First Floor. fl9*Free Buss to And from all Train*. Special rata* to witness** and Jurors. 4-1 IRVIN HOUSE. (Moat Central Hotel In the Cityj Corner MAIN and JAY Streets, Lock Haven, Pa. s. WOODS CALWKLL, Proprietor. Good Sample Rooms for Commercial Travelers on first floor. jQR. D. H. MINGLE, Physician and Surgeon, MAIN Street, MILLHKIM, Pa. JOHN F. HARTER, PRACTICAL DENTIST, Office In id story of Tomlinsoa's Gro cery Store, On MAIN Street, MILI.HKIM, Pa. BV KIMTFR, FASHIONABLE BOOT A SHOE MAKER Shop next door to Foote's Store, Main St., BiKrta, Shoes and Gaiters made to order, and sat isfactory work guaranteed. Repairing done prompt ly and cheaply, aud in a neat style. 8. R. PRALK. H. A. MCKEB. PEALE & MeKEE, ATTORNEYS AT LAW, Office opposite Court House, Bellefonte, Pa. C. T. Alexander. C. M. Bower. A BOWER, ATTORNEYS AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, FA. Office in Carman's mew building. JOHN B. LINN, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BELLEFONTE, PA. Offloe on Allegheny Street. OLEMENT DALE, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA. Northweet corner of Diamond. 11. HAKTHUI, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA. Office on Allegheny Street, S doors west of office formerly occupied by the late Arm of Yocum A Hastings. C. HEINLE, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BELLEFONTE, FA. Practices in all the courts of Centre County. Spec al attention to collections, consultations in German or English. F. REEDEB, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BELLEFONTE, PA. All bus'□ ess promptly attendtd to. Collection of claims a speciality. J. A. Beaver. J W. Gephart. JGEAVER A GEPHART. ATTORNEYS AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA. Office on Alleghany Street, North of High. Y° CUM & HARSHBERGER, ATTORNEYS AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA. S. KELLER, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA Consultations in English or German. Office In Lyon'o Building, Allegheny Street. "p. B HASTINGS. W. F. KEXDKR. * JJASTINGS A REEDER, ATTORNEYS AT LAW, BELLEFONTE, PA Offloe on Allegheny street, two doors east of the offle occupied by the late firm of > Hast es. Sfi-tT lie pilllrii! SomrmtL MY MOTHERS GRAVE. The treuihUtiß dew-drop* fell Upon the stunting flowets; like star* at rest The stare ahme gloriously; and all, Save tne, are bleat. Mother, T love thy grave! The violet with Its blossoms, blue and unlit, Waves o'er thy hoad; wht-n shall a wave Above thy child? 'Tls a sweet flower, yet ruust Its bright leaves to the coming to npest iww ! Dear mother, lis thine emblem; dust Is on thy brow. And I could love to die; To leave untasted life's dark, bitter streams— By thee, as erst In childhood, lie And share thy dreams. But I must linger here To stain the plumage of my sinless years, Aud mourn the hop s to childhood dear. With bitter tears. Aye, I must linger here, A lonely branch upon a withered tree. W hose last frail leaf, untune.y sere, Wsut dowu will thee. Oft from life's withered b wer, In sMU communion with the past, 1 turu Aud muss on taee, the only flower In memory's urtL And whsu the evening pale Bows, like a mourner, on the dim blue wave, 1 stray to hear the night-winds wail, Around thy grave. LILT* WORD OF HONOR. The "Green Dragon, "at Orpington, as sumed to bo an inn, wits really little more than a wayside stopping place. Mr. Hunter, landlord and proprietor, was therefore not a little surprised aud tiur riod when, upon a raw Octolier after noon, a young man presented himself at the bar of the "Green Dragon," aud ask ed languidly if he could be aocommoda ed with a bed and a sitting-room. "A bed. sir ?" replied Mr. Hunter, a big man with red face and gray hair ; "yes 1 think we can manage to give you a bod." "And a sittiug-room?"eehoed the land lord, in a tone of one who is considering some great undertaking; "one minute if you please sir." And Mr. Hunter disappeared into the little room adjoining the bar, there to hold counsel with some second persons, the upshot being that, in a few minutes, Mrs. Hunter and a few Hunters just out of the crawling state, issued forth, bear ing respectively working materials,socks in process of being mended, in whistles and decapitated dolls. "You can have this room all to your self sir," said Mr. Hunter, triumphantly "You really must not let me disturb you," replied the traveler. "Don't you mention it," replied the landlord, in a tone which was at once genial and confidential; "we would not turn a euiitomor away from our dooru. You see we do not have much parlor company." "And this is the only room yon have that is disengaged?" "Well, yes, sir; this is the only room at present. Susan! coals fur the gentle man's fire." The traveler was glad enough to enter the apartment and to draw close to the fire the one dilapidated arm-chair. Arthur Seton, barrister by profession, and a writer from choice, was not really more than thirty, though he looked con siderably older; for the dark hair and beard were streaked with gray, and the face, with its regular handsome features wore a look of intense mentsil weari ness. For some time he leaned indolently back, his hands clasped behind his head; at last he rose and took from his bag a locket, and diary, which he opened, and availing himself of pen and ink which stood upon the table, made the following entry; "October 17, J 874.—G0t up late. Called on the Brains tones; George was out. Had a pleasant chat with Annie; went like a fool to Richmond, and like a fool, haunted tho well-house. It looked just the same as in the old, dear days; but I heard children playing in the gar den. The house I believe is let to city people. Came back to London; dined at the Pall Mall; went to the club. Got back to chambers late; wrote a column 'Review.' A weary, weary day. Shall I never know a moment's forgetful nesH?" He drew then from the leaves of the diary a letter written in a delicate hand and addressed, "Arthur Seton, Esq., 12 Gray's Inn." This letter he regarded with a long, sad, laying look; then, rest ing his head on his hand, he read it through very slowly. It ran as follows: "MY DBAR ARTHUR: —If yon will be so suspicions, so jealous and exciting, I cannot see how we are ever to be happy. Faith without works is dead, and love withont faith is no blessing, but a weary burden. lam tired of cross words and looks. Some women, I believe, like the feverish excitement of quarrels, but I only wish for peace. This miserable jealousy is quite unworthy of you. Do try and put it from you; and remember that love, once wounded, is sometimes hurt past hope of recovery. I received your article quite safely, but I cannot apeak about it now. You have made me too sad, too weary, and even a little in dignant. Yours affectionately, ALICE CLAREFIELD. " He replaced the letter, closed the di ary, took up his pipe and began smok ing. The early part of this day had been fine and mild, but toward the after noon the sky grew leaden and the wind shifted to the northeast. Now the wind was rising and the rain was falling—a cold, penetrating, impetuous, determined rain. For want of something better to do, Seton began to write a letter; but he made slow work of it. For minutes to ; gether he sat holding the pen listlessly, leaning his arm wearily upon the table listening, as we all listen when alone, to what sonnds may be going on near us, from a feeling that is not curiosity, but more overpowering. I Suddenly what mn9t have been a very light vehicle dashed swiftly down the road and drew up at the door of the "Green Dragon" while the voice of the pew comer beoame audible, Seton how* MILLHEIM, PA., THURSDAY, JUNE 16,1882. over,could only catch a few diHOonneoted words, such us "caught in the ruin—del - iotito—shelter -Chiselhurst —closed car riage. " Then the door opened, the landlord, presented himself upon the threahohl, and said, in a very pointed manner: "If you please, sir, a young ladv, driving over to Sevenoaka in a light open trap, has been call edit in the rain, and her servant wants to know if 1 can give her a sitting-room while he drives hack to Chisellinrst for a closed car riage. " "And this is the only one you have?" rejoined Sexton. "Oh, ask her in by all means. However, lam sorry the room smells so of smoke," he added, as he knocked the ashes from his pipe. "Don't mention it sir, and thank you very much," replied the landlord. In another moment the door opened again, and the unexpected intruder en tered -a lady tall and graceful, having a pale, Madouua-li&e face, and golden hair shining like an aureole round a cla sio head. Seton's face had grown white to the very lips, and his voice quivered percep tibly as, extending his hand, he said: "This is a very unexpected meeting." "Very unexpected," echoed the lady, removing her wet mantle, and sitting down on the leather sofa. The recogni tion had IHHUI mutual, but women, as a general thing, have more self possession than the sterner sex. "Let me recommend this chair," said Seton, laying his hand upon the one fr.m which he had just risen, "No, thank you; I prefer sitting away from the fire." "I am sorry the room should smell so of tobacco," olwerved Seton, after a pause, "but, you see, I did not expect the pleasure of a visitor." She smiled a rather forced smile by way of answer, and Seton folded elabo rately and put into an envelop a blank sheet of paper. "The country is very beautiful around here," he observed writing his own name with great care upop the envelope, "Wo have only been back from the continent six weeks," she observed, after a pause. "Mamma has taken a house near Chiselhurst. I was driving over to Sevenoaka this morning, and I was caught in the rain, and induced to ask for shelter here." "And how is Mrs. Clearfield?" "Mamma is qvito well, thank you;" Then after a pause, "Are you stopping here?" "Hardly,"said Seton, with an assump tion of gayety in his tone, "but I'll tell you all alamt it. My friends kindly took it into their hemls that 1 was stick ing too closely to work—that 1 wanted fresh air and exercise—so they bound me over on my word of honor to walk from London to Hastiusa in a week. I nctjoimutr in everything lIOW, Ol course, acquiesced in this, ami this is my first day of hard labor and imprison ment." "Lilt you used—" l>egau the lady,then she colored a little and seemed unwilling to finish her sentence; "you used to be so fond of walking." "But a man changes a good deal in three years," he replied, wearily. It wonld weary you, reader, to set down hero the dreary commonplaces with which these two tried to lreguile the time for over an hour. At last they took refuge in sileuco, while the wind roared, and the rain lashed the window, the dnsk came on prematurely, ami Seton looking out ou the cheerless pros pect, shivered as with the cold. Then the lady rose very quietly, stirred the fire iuto a blaze, and resumed her seat on the sofa. "No, you shouldn't really," said Seton not turning round, however, and with a look of pain on his face. It is wonderful what suffering some small, commonplace word or action may cause us. What vistas of possible joys may they not open up to us! "I suppose tho carriage will soon be back," said Alice, presently, and speak ing witli effort; "our coacbman drives very fast." "Yes; your term of imprisonment will soon be up." rejoiued Seton, resting his arms upon the mantelpiece, and examin ing with critical interest a photograph l>efore him. "How the time passes!" said Alice in a low voice, as if speaking to herself. Tben, with a sudden energy, "I cannot tell when we shall meet again. Before we part, answer me one question. You are looking worn and weary—are you happy?" Now ho stood be/ore her and through the firelight his eyes flashed on her, as he said, in a low, harsh voice: "From your li]>s that question is an insult." "Of which we need not fear the repe tition," she rejoined, with cutting for mality. "No, it can't end like this," he went on. "Do you know,ever since you have been hero, I have bitten my lips through and through to keep tliom from spea king of the past ? Tliis meeting was not of my Becking, and it seems to me unmanly to take advantage of this op portunity. " "We are sometimes so much mis taken," she said, hurriedly, but her words were hardly audible, and ho con tinued: "Alice, you have treated me ba<lly. On that day, now throe years ago, when I gave you my love, and believed in yours, I was frank with you. I told you how wild and irrognjar my life had been and how full of faults I was. You re claimed me--you transformed my days —you made life pure and fairjaud then, because some thorn in my love hurt you you threw it all away and left me to perish miseiably." She would have in terrupted him, but he silenced her with a gesture, and went on: "And now when we meet after three years, you ask me if I am happy. If I loved you once I shall love you lorever. Do I look happy?" "I thiak there were faults on both sides?" she said quietly. "Yes, there were," he replied: "but I was reading your last letter only to-day. Oh, how terribly bitter it was!" "And have you forgotten your answer to that letter! she said passionately her voioe quivering and her breast heaving. "I don't remember it werd for word," he answered quickly; "I kuow it was written on the impulse of the moment." "But I have it by heart." Then,very slowly: "You said if your love, in its heart and strength, was a little exciting, mine was cold and tideloss; in fact, no love, only a cold, sluggish affection. You almost thought 1 was right, and that we could not be happy. I am naturally proud," she went on, "but a womna with less pride than I could not have acted differently. Only one course was loft to me—to be silent" "Well—it is all over now; wo shall prubably never moot again." "You won't bike my friendship, then?" "No, thank you; you are very gener ous but I do not want ttiat nift." He drew himself wearily into a chair and for a time there was silence. Hope is so subtle, so intangible, that we are only aware of iti existence when it has ceased to be. Arthur Beton looked upou himself as a man without hope. It seemed to him that his lifo could not be more desolate than it was, yet who sle 11 say what foeliug, of which he was not directly conscious, may have sustained him dur ing the hist three years? Now everything ucerned goue—there was nothing loft for him but death. Presently a carriage eamo down the road; carriage lamps flashed through the dusk, and grew stationary opposite the window. Mr. Hunter bust ed in and an nounced that the carriage had oome for the young ludy, and had done the dis tance wonderfully quick. Teen the door shut, and they were alone together again. Soitly and distinctly Seton heard ma speak his name, "Arthur!" but he dtd uot move. It seemed to ltiui that he would keep back all his love, clinch fast his heart till she was goue, and then die swiftly of the pain. "Arthur, lum waiting, dear. Won't you come? Are you not going to forgive me?" He groped his way toward her. She stretched out her hand and drew him to her. Then he bent down: she raised her face, and the hearts and lips so leng disunited came t 'gether iu a long pas sionate kiss. Ho knelt down by lier,her head sunk i pon his sho lders, and for many minutethey remained thus, lost in loves profound peace and mystery And the corks continued to p p.and tue wagoners on their way to London tramp ed iu and out of the bar, and good nights were exchanged between customers and landlord, ami as Arthur folded Alice's mantle around her, she said shyly: "You are coming back witli me to see mamma, are you not?" "May 1?" he auawered joyfully?" So the bedroom which Mrs. Hunter had been preparing all the afternoon ami of which she was uot a little proud, re mained unoccupied;, but the payment was lav sll and th <*•>*'* llitvir tvub lint regretted. "Ob! that never-to-be-forgotten ride to Chiselhurat through the wild, windy evening! The ram ceased, ami strange voices were abroad in the wind, singing jubilantly over love rerisen and redeem ing. Tbe clouds drifted away, an the pure, sweet moonlight quivered over wet fields aud trees, and seemed love's ben ediction. The reade r is left to imagine the ar rival home. Arthur was a favorite with Mrs. Cl&refield, and iu the old dsys oi quarrels would always take his part. When dinner was disposed of Mrs Clare field pleaded household duties and went to her room. Thyre she sat down before the fire and wept, dear soul, over the happiness of her children. Down stairs these two were very quiet. To them love was a solemn thing, and they were silent lovers. The moments went swiftly on, Presently Alios said, as she looked up in Arthur's face: "You are not going to continue your walk to Hastings, this week!" He answered with a smile: "But, dear, I liave pledged my word of honor to do so." "I command you break it," He oid so: but none of his frr uds brought it as an accusation against him that he for once in his life had broken his word of honor. Frovldenc* or Clisnco. A leading merchant, a very nervous man, who had directed liis mind more to the sale of dry goods than intellectual cultivation, had a ticket to hear Mr. Emerson given liira.wnioL he improved, and sat without moving amuse e till the close, apparently delighted. The lec ture was upon •'Chance," in which the lecturer took almost if not quite evau gelical ground regarding mysterious providences which aontrol human affairs though not, maybe, in the same terms. Chance, liowevi r, as an agent, was at a discount, but not an impossibility, and lull of the beautiful parts which he had comprehended, the dry-goods man next day was enthusiastic in his explanation. •'Well," sa'd he to a friend, "I had a treat,last night,let me tell you." "What was it?" "Oh, Jim Gates gave me a ticket to hear George B. Emerson lec ture." "You mean Balph W. Emerson, don't you!" "Yes, that's what I said. 'T was capital." "What was the snb joot?" " 'Chance,' and the way he handled it was masterly. His illustra tions were very fine. For instance, a ship on the sea with her sails blown away, her rudder unshipped, tiie sea making a clear breach over her, and ar riving in port, saved, through it all. It was grand." "Well, did he show how she was saved?" "Yes, he proved to a dot that 'twas either by Providence or chauoe, but 1 couldn't exactly make out which." HOGS require free access to water in the summer time. If tliey can have a place to bathe or wallow in, it is beuefldal 10 them as it cools and cleanses the skin- Mad is not filth; it is a good dis nfectant and health ful. Some times mrd baths have been found useful as medicinal treatment for siak people I'erfoctlv Satisfactory. The next man was a tall, bow-back ed, long-faced chap who had worried through the winter without an overcoat and perhaps without changing his linen. "No use to ask if this charge of vag rancy is true," remarked his Honor, at Chicago, as fie surveyed the prisoner, "Not a bit of use, Judge; you know it's false," was the ready reply. "What! Do you deny that yon are a vag?" "Certainly I do!" •'Then what are you?" "A gentleman and a speculator, sir. If you'll give mo a few minutes of your valuable time 111 make the most satisfactory explanations of my present appearance and financial embarrass ment " "Go ahead." "Well, sir, my name is Rhoderio De Langley. To begin with, no vagrant owned such a name. lam a speculator in graiu, bonds, silver stock and other things. When I make a strike I dress like a Prince and live high. When I lose I sleep in the alleys aud cut my ex penses close. My last speculation was a loss; therefore 1 am economizing." "What was your last speculation?" "Four hundred shares at ten dollars each in an invention to hatch fish by steam. My partner ran away with all the funds and left me flat. In thirty days I shall bo on my feet again.' "How?" "1 am after one hundred shares ill Union Pacific. They are down to hard pan and must react. Give me thirty days aud I will be iu clover again." "I'll give you sixty," said tho Court, after a pause. "Good ! I am a thousand times obliged. Everything is perfectly satis factory." '•yes—sixty days in the Work House! April showers will be invigorating the earth when you come out." "That was a base trick," said the prisoner, as he fell back, aud when otil of ear shot o* the Court he told Bijali that if be lived to serve out his sixty days he would send his HoDor an infer nal machine aud blow him five hundred feet high. The l'onoat at Hume. This tribe of Indians were taken, rnuoh agui'ist their will. to the ludiau Territory, in 1878, a discontented and thoroughly broken down people. Hap pily their wrongs and misfortunes have been forgotten, the government has paid theiu for their Dakota homes, and they tire now in a comfortable, not to say prosperous condition. Dotted here and there over the beautiful rolling prairie that stretches alouu the Ar kansas, the bah Fork, andtue Chicaskiu livers, we see the smoke curling grace fully upward from the oozy little homes of tho Poucas. and as approach wo discover the Indian trans formed mto tho less roillantic larwer trudging aloug behind his plow. Stopping to speak a word of en couragement he te.'ls you, uot so much m words, for but lew of the Poncas speak even a little English, as by un mistakable sign-convincing pantomime that "he soon have lots wheat, lots corn." Then with a dignified flourish of the hand he points with pride to his ohickeus, and sometimes ducks and pigeons, his little herd of oattle often numbering rom fifteen to thirty head, according to the size of his family, his ponies grazing peacefully m the dis tance, and his neatly-wire-fenoad fields, and smiles with a 100 of complete satisfaction. We enter a one-roomed dwelling. In one corner on a bed lies a poor little fellow with liis broken thigh, the doctor is beside him, and like the brave soldier that ho is, he never whimpers although his leg is being set for the seoond time in its encasement of plaster. The mother is squatted among a confusion of gay quilts and shawls, on the floor near by and is industriously beading a curious little bag to hold matches. Evidently hearing us neanng her door, with a kind of instinct that it is the pro per thing to do, she has placed the three, chairs of her apartment in a stiff row, and offers us these as we enter. The grandmother does the honors of thfh hospitable home. She is a tall, magni ficent specimen! of her race, perhaps about 45 years ot age. Her dress is of bright red strouding, and most elabo rately trimmed with a complicated kind of patchwork of different colored rib bons, in fact covering the entire front breadth of the skirt; her loose jacket is of a deep blue, and ner wide sailor shaped collar is also decorated with the silk ribbons, while around her neck and fulling below the waist are strings upon strings of light blue and garnet beads. Her hair is braided carefully, each fin ger h*Ji an ample supply of nugs, and the wrists are encircled with coils of brass bangles. She talks to you con stantly 111 the plaintive Southern Ponca language, goes to a bundle wrapped with a gailypainted ox hide and brings forth her treasures, lou immediately recognize in these two pictures the like nesses of the Ponca chiefs, taken in all their glory of Indian costume. Again she tells you about her boy at Carlisle and his father who was murdered a few years ago, and this woman is Mrs. Big I Snake. You must surely recal the touching story told by Standing Bear of the shooting of his brother, the prominent chief. Big Snake. And in the office of our commissary is pointed out to us the very spot where he fell, and you may see the bullet-hole in the thin woooeu wall that marks the fatal shot. Those were exciting times at Ponca. The women brandished their long knives, and Mrs. Big Snake falling in the w agon beside the dead body of her husband, swore vengeance on the agent, and yelled her war whoop in his very face. But to day she kindly welcomes us to her home, and bids us come again. At the agency the Indians are busily employed, and some have done them selves great credit as carpenters and blacksmiths. Others make bncks. mix mortar, haul logs and do all the freight ing to the agency. When you realize that four years ago these men knew absolutely nothing about this sort of work, the results are truly wonderful. But the chiefs have a great power in the the tribe, and in this eulightened age they use it to advance their people. White Eagle, the head caief of the Pon cas, is a true Indian, and a dignified and splendid looking man. He seemed to be thoroughly conscious of his high position, aud always inspires one with a certain awe, although you know him to be literally an "ignorant savage." But this head chief is a bright man, eloqu 'fit aud effective in council, always politic and always popular. He comes to church on Suuday plainly arrayed in a suit of bl ick broadcloth, but on other occasions he appears arrayed, wrapped in his chieftain's blanket of dark blue, with here and there tufts of gaycolored ribbons, a single eagle feather stands out in bold contrast among his long glossy black hair, his six-shooter thrust into his ornamented his fancy knife-case hung at his side, his beaded leggins and moccasins proclaim him an liiitian of the old traditional type. Among the chiefs are Wuite Eagle, Standing Buffalo, Hairy Berr, McDonald and Frank La Fiesche and they huve great influence among their people Shut in Robbing a Grave. Dr. Lenda'l, of Syracuse., New York, was found near that place recently ly ing in an opeu meadow, witli a bullet wound iu the centre of hu forehand, penetrating to the brain. The spot where the yonng man was found is about one hundred feet from the oeme tery where the dead are interred from the Onondago County Poorbouse. There were evidence of a terrible strug gle near the wounded man and the earth was swimming in blood. Plain foot tracks led from the bodv to a new-made grave in the cemetery, which was half diseuterred, showing that Kendall was engaged in the ghoulish task of robbing a grave when surprised by his unknown assailants. Near by were two slievels wrapped together in a piece of old car pet, and a satchel. On his person were a dirk and two revolvers in a belt. In the satchel were a bottle of whisky, a cant-hook, a long pieoe of rope, a dark lan tern, a bit and stalk and screw-driver and other tools used in grave-robbing. In his pooket was found s card on which was written: "Be shure eight o'clock." Kendall has made in the past a business of furnishing bodies for the medical college in that city, but has had a fall ing out with that institution and has lately boen engaged in supplying some college elsewhere. He is aged abont twenty-five years and is of a most aris tocratic family. He is at variauoe with his relatives, as he married about four months ago a beautiful servant girl em ployed iu his father's house. Why he should be engaged in this ghastly occu pation is not known, as his practice is quite lucrative. It is believed that he was shot by members of an association called the "Grave Protectors," which lias seoretly been organized since a re cent attempt at a burying ground iu that city. Kendall will not recover. Looks Like Business. A few months ago a farmer livmg on the line of Jackson and Fort Wayne road visited the headquarters of the company 11 urge the necessity of a new passenger station at a certain cross roads on the line. "I'm afrnid the patronage would not pay the expenses," replied the official. "I tell you a heap of people would got ou and off at them comers," urged the farmer. "JVell, how many of your neighbor hood have passed over our road this year?" "How many? Well, there's the old man Skinner for one. He has been to Jackson twice that I know of. Then there's aunt Deborah Smith, who goes down to Fort Wayne every spring and fall. Then we've got several young men who allers go up to Lansing when there's a circus." "Any more?" asked the official, as the farmer scratched his head and wriggled arqund. "No-o, I don't know as I km think of any more just now, but if you'll go ahead and put up a station there you can count on a dozen of us sitting around there all the time to make things look like business," Th Story of the Seorttary Bird. There was-a time when the Secretary Bird lived on fish, like the other long legged and crane-like birds, and he was so well satisfied with this fare that he never cared for any other kind of food. One day, a large Secretary Bird was standing in the water, on the edge of a river, busily engaged in fishing. When he caught a fish, he would wade ashore,® and there eat it. While he was thus en gaged in fishing, a large serpent came winding his way along the river-bank, and, as soon as he perceived the bird, he stopped to see what it was doing. When the Secretary Bird came out of the wa ter to eat the fish, .the Snake remarked: "Friend, it seems to me you would make a pleasanter meal if yon would toss your fish upon the bank as fast as you catch tl e*u, and then, when you have enough, come out an<l eat them at your leisure." "I should like that plan yery well," said the Secrotary Bird; "butif Ishould toss a freshly caught fish upon the bank he would flop iuto the water as soon as I had gone to catch another. Thus I should always be catching fbh, and eating none." "There need be no trouble of that kind to-day " said the Snake; "for, if y u will throw the fish on shore, I will see that they do not get into the water again." "Thank yon very kindlv," said the Secretary Bird, "If you will do that, it will save time, and I shall soon oatch enough fish for a dinner." "1 shall be only too glad to oblige von," said the Serpent. Tliereapou the bird waded into the river, and as soon as he caught a fish he threw it ashore, where the Snake took care that it did not get iuto the water again. When the Bird thought he bad ca'.glit enough fish, he came ou shore and saw the Snake slowly moving away. "What is yo.ir hurry?" he cried. "Stop and take dinner with me. I have now caught twelve fish, and as I had eaten some before you came, six will be all I shall want. Youoaa have the other six, aud we can take a pleasant meal together." T am very much obliged to you," ssid the Snake, still moving away; "but Ido not belii ve that anything could in duce me to eat a fish at present. I have no appetite at all for such food." And he glided into the bushes, and was lost to sight. "He need not be so dainty," said the Secretary Bird to himself; "for fish is very good food, indeed; but since he will not accept my invitation, I shall have all the more dinner for myself. But where are the fish?" The Secretary Bird looked anxiously about, on the shore and on the grass but he oould find no s ga of the fish he hAd caught. At length he cam ) to a little pile of twelve fish-tails lying be hind a bush. The Snake did not like fish-tails, aud had bitten these off before eating the fish Instantly the tru'h Hashed through the mind of ihe Secre tary Bird. "That wTetcbed Serpent!" he ex claimed. "He has. indeed, taken good care that my fish shall not eso ipe into the water. He has eaten them, one by one, rs fast as I ihraw them ou shore. I never heard of snch an infamous trick. But I will be revenged on him. I will find him, no matter where he has hidden himself," So saying, the angry Bird rushed away in pursuit of the cralty acquaint rnce who had taken care of his fish. Soon he saw a movement among the tall reeds. "There he is!" he shouted, and he dashed toward the place. Iu a moment he had pounced among the reeds, and attacked the Snake with great lury. "You infamous creature!" he cried. "I will teach you how to deoeive a bird of my standing." And in spite of the Snake's efforts to get away, he stamped upon him and pecked him until, he lial killed him. "You have cheated me of my dinner," said the angry Bird, "aad it would serve you right if I were to make a din ner of you." S) saying,—his appetite whetted by the morning's worn, —he begau to eat the Snxke, and did not stop until he had entirely devoured him. "Upon the whole," said the Secretary Bird, when he had finished, "I prefer snakes to fish, and I think that for the future I shall moke my meal upon these deoeitlul creatures, who go about play ing tricks upoD honest folks." Alter that, this bird gave up eating fish and fed entirely upon snakes. He did not trouble himself to catch the small ones, because it took too many of them to satisfy his hunger, but he preferred the large ones, as one of them was enough for a meal. His wife and children soon learned that snakes were easy to catch and good to eat, and they also gave up eating fish. This Secretary Bird was a very influential member of his tribe, and the new diet soon became q ite fashionable; and the descendants of the Secretary Birds of that day have since lived entirely upon large snakes. It may be noticed, also, that the serpents of that part of the country, remember ing, perhaps, this old story, have a great distaste for fish. Life Savins, The lifj-saving crewson the New Jer sey coast having been relieved from duty, the fact is brought out that only one life was lost on that coast from wrecked vessels from September Ist of last year, to and including Sunday, April 30th, although 178 lives were im perilled. The value of the vessels wrecked and their cargoes was more than half a million dollar <, about three fourths of which were saved through the exertions of the life-saving crew?. That is a very creditable record. LINIEED meal is often lound cf more feeding value than the seed itself, because in making it into cake twenty-five per cent, of cil is pressed out leaving only eleven to twelve-per cent, in the cake. This in creases the of albume I about five per cent, making linseed meal contain Iwentyeijht per oent, NO 24.