W, M. CHENEY, Publisher.
A FLAG OF TRUCE.
Nay, you have frowned euow,
Uiiknit that threatening brow.
Put wrath away,
While you may.
Life is too bare of bliss
That we our share should miss,
So make amends,
And be friends.
—G. Preston, in the Century.
Royal Moore was Rachel Heath's first
love, and she had readied the age of 29
before she met him—quite an old maid;
and yet at that age a woman knows her
own mind, and her love is much more
likely to be lasting and true than the
ardent passion of 18.
Rachel's life had been such that she
had never any chance for what is called
falling in love. Her mother had died
when she was very young, and the care of
an old and sickly father had come upon
Rachel. She had fulfilled the trust faith
fully. She had borne all the old man's
querulous fault-finding with gentle
patience; she had submitted without a
murmur to being kept in the sick room
while her young acquaintances were
gathered together enjoying themselves;
and though Mr. Heath might have spared
her as well as not, she never called him
selfish even in her thoughts. He was her
father and to him she owed every duty.
So her sweet youth wore away, and
woman's crowning blessing was denied
her; and its cheek lost its sea shell bloom,
and her dark eyes gathered shadows of
thought and sadness which should never
come to young eyes.
At last old 3lr. Heath died at the age
of eighty-nine, and Rachel was left all
It was then that Royal Moore came into
her life. He was a physician, and had
attended her father for the last weeks of
Something about the girl's calm,
quiet endurance—something in the self
reliant strength of her character—touched
Dr. Moore's interest before he had even
noticed that she had a clearly cut face,
rather pale and a little sad, with large
hazel eyes and a wealth of curling brown
After Mr. Heath died and Rachael was
left in the house with only her Aunt Edith
for a companion, Dr. Moore applied to
Miss Heath for rooms and board. Ra
chel would hardly have taken him, so
accustomed had she become to loneliness,
and so much did she dread any breaking
up of old habits, but Aunt Edith was
strongly in his favor, and so it happened
that a fortnight after Mr. Heath's death,
Dr. Moore was comfortably established
in the south chamber of Rachel's house
and was taking his meals opposite her at
A couple of months they had been en
gaged when Laura Sayres, a distant
consin of Rachel's, took it into her head
that she needed the sea air. Rachel
lived in the little seagirt town of Beau
view, and to "Dear Cousin Rachel" Laura
wrote she was coming.
Rachel remembered her as a child—
golden-haired, blue-eyed and waxen
faced—and of late years she had heard
something of her wonderful beauty, which
had made her the belle of Washington the
past season, for her father held an impor
tant office at the Capital, and during the
winter his family were with him.
Dr. Moore was not over-pleased at the
prospect, for lie detested fashionable
ladies, he said, and he had 110 doubt my
Lady Laura was frivolous and wain as the
majority of them were. lie had so much
rather have his little Hachel ail to him
self. Then he kissed her forehead and
slid his arm around her waist and drew
her to his side, and they stood silently to
gether and heard the sea waves beat on
the shore and the (pickets chirp in the
grass, and neither of them dreamed of
the cloud which was even then gathering
in the calm sky of their felicity.
The next day Laura Sayres came. .Tust
twenty—a slight, graceful girl, with
hands like sculptured marble and an arch
rosebud of a face, framed in u mass of
crinkly golden hair, tied up with azure
ribbon and falling in a shower of curls
down her shoulders. Yes, there was no
gainsaying the fact that Laura Sayres was
a beauty, and Dr. Moore, being a man,
could not help admiring her.
She played and sang finely, too, and
he was fond of music. Rachel foresaw
that which was to come, but she bore up
bravely against it, and was always kind
uud sweet to Laura and ireutle with
Laura, accustomed as she was to being
LAPOKTE, PA., FEIDAY, AUGUST 9, 1889.
admired and flattered, appropriated Dr.
Moore without hesitation. Aunt Edith
had mentioned his engagement with
Rachel to her, but Laura had lived in the
world where engagements are formed and
broken to suit the convenience of the
parties, and she attached no importance
to the communication. She had only
"Why, Aunt Edith! engaged to that
old maid! It is too bad! Why, Dr.
Moore is one of the most splendid men I
"Laura," said Aunt Edith, severely,
"no man can be too good for Rachel
Heath. She is the noblest and truest
woman lever met."
"Oh. yes, auntie," returned Laura, "I
know she is a perfect saint; but then she
is so grave and old and she wears her hair
in such horrid style! Not a puff, nor a
friz, and, I'll venture to say, not a thread
of false hair!"
"No," said Aunt Edith, "Rachel's
head is too full of good sense to allow her
self to be done up in hair from the scalp
of any lunatic or criminal."
Laura flounced out of the room in a pet,
and revenged herself by hunting up Dr.
Moore and coaxing him to take her out
in his boat. It was twilight when they
returned, and Rachel sat on the piazza
and watched them come up the shell
paved walk with an odd pain in her
heart. She did not understand Dr.
Moore. Suddenly something seemed to
have come between them and to have
changed the genial, happy young man
into a restless and capricious trifler.
All the brief summer Laura lingered
at Beauview, and Dr. Moore was ever
her most devoted cavalier. Hiding,
walking or boating, the two were always
together, and though Dr. Moore used at
first to ask Rachel to come with them she
always declined, and after a time he
ceased to ask her.
Laura confided her hopes to Rachel
one night after the girls had gone to their
She should marry Dr. Moore, for she
liked him vastly, and then he was rich
and of a good family.
"I did think he was engaged to you,"
went on the selfish girl, "but, of course,
that is all over. No man loves and neg
lects a woman at the same time. And
you must be ages older than him!"
"I am twenty-nine Dr. Moore is
thirty," said Rachel, in a cold harsh
voice, which surprised herself, "and if
he loves you I should advise you to mar
"You are such a dear, good creature,"
cried Laura, kissing her, "and I am so
glad that you do not care an3 - thiug about
him. It would be so awkward, you
know, if you did. But I hear him com
ing to his room and we must be quiet.
So good night and pleasant dreams."
Pleasant dreams indeed! Poor Rachel
never closed her weary eyes that night, J
and the next morning she looked so worn
and ill that even selfish Laura insisted on
bathing her head and coddling her to
sleep on the sofa.
It was early autumn now and the even
ings were growing chilly. Rachel had a
fire lighted that night on the sitting
Laura, all in a diaphanous cloud of
white muslin and azure ribbons, sailed in
just before it was time for Dr. Moore to
come from his office.
"A fire! a wood fire!" she cried, gayly;
"how charming! Royal audi are to prac
tice that new song together, and really,
it would have been chilly here without
the fire. You are very thoughtful, Cousin
Rachel. I wonder if I will be as good
when I am as old?"
She went close to the fire and held her
small, white hands out to the ruddy blaze.
Her sweeping skirts trailed over the
hearth—a breath of air from the open
door as Aunt Edith came in awayed them
a little nearer, a tongue of flame seized
upon the flimsy fabric, and in an instant
the unfortunate girl was wrapped in a
clould of fire.
A fearful tiynptation beset Rachel.
Do not temptations, at times—tempta
tions dark and evil—beset the best of
us? If Laura perished, Royal Moore
would be hers once more. The thought
went through her brain like lightning,
but she cast it behind her with im
The next moment she had torn up
the hearth-rug and wrapped it around
Laura, and forcing the screaming girl
down to the floor, she succeeded in
i smothering the flames, just as Dr. Moore
entered the room.
She thought it very strange that he
should spring to her side, and ask if she
were burned, before he every looked at
i Laura: but aften.ard he lifted th<. poor
young girl in his arms and carried her up
to her room and dressed her wounds and
soothed her as best he could.
By-and-by he came down, and found
Rachel out in the moonlight under the
yellow maples. She had bandaged both
her hands, for they were fearfully
burned, and she had told Dr. Moore she
was not hurt.
"My dear little girl!" he said, draw
ing her into the sitting-room, "you have
deceived me—you burned. I must
see after this myself." And he took off
the wrappers and grew pale at sight of
the poor scarred and blistered hands.
She submitted to him quietly. His
touch brought back to her some of the
sweetness of the old time. And she had
made up her mind to tell him this very
evening that he was free.
"Rachel," said he, when he had fin
ished dressing the burns, "I want to talk
to you a little while. You have given me
no chance lately, and I have been very
unhappy over it.l have at times almost
began to fear that after all you did not
care for me as I thought you did!"
"I desire your happiness above any
thing else," began Rachel, bravely, "and
when I saw that you were pleased with
Laura, and indeed it is not strange, for
she is young and handsome "
'•Pleased with Laura,"said Dr. Moore.
"I was never pleased with her, dear. I
have been playing, you will think, a very
mean and dastardly game, but my con
science approves me! Two years ago,
Rachael, that girl flirted with my brother
Henry and broke his heart! He was
young, lomantic and very susceptible!
Her beauty enthralled him. She, like
the heartless liirt she is, led him on until
he knew no rest nor joy away from her.
Then, when his devotion became trouble
some—for there was another suitor on
hand—she laughed at him for an idiot
and frankly told him she had never
thought of marrying him.
"She had only been amusing herself,
and had supposed he was doing the same.
It was so ridiculous for people to get in
love. Henry went to his lodgings,
entered his room, locked the door, and
blew out his brains! And when this
girl, who had caused his death just as
surely as t though her own white hands
had held the pistol—when she heard of
it, she cried out: 'What a fool! But
there! I always thought he was rather
weak somehow! and he was so fond of
me! Dear me! how disagreeable it is to
have men falling in love with one!' By
the side of my poor brother's dead body
I made a vow that if ever destiny threw
this false and treacherous girl in my way
I would punish her for her sin against him,
and I have kept my word. Perhaps it is
not noble or generous for me to say it,
but I believe she loves me. And, Rachel,
darling, I love only you!"
Despite poor Rachel's involuntary
shrinking back, he took her into his arms
and kissed her in the old slow, sweet
So her lost happiness came back.
Laura Sayres was not able to leave her
room when Rachel and Dr. Moore went
quietly to the village chapel one morning
and were married.
And when Aunt Edith told Laura of
what was going on—and Aunt Edith had
a wicked sort of enjoyment in telling her
—you may well believe there was a scene.
The next day Laura went home.
A month afterward she married old
Goldbrim, who was seventy years old, and
worth a million; and the old fellow still
lives, and leads her a life of it.
Dr. Moore and his wife are living their
contented, quiet, country life, all the hap
pier, maybe, for the cloud which once
came across the heaven of their love.—
New York News.
Leather Made From Wood.
A process for making leather from red
beecii wood has been invented by u
Vienna doctor and works are to be started
for its manufacture. The trees selected
are from fifty to sixty years old, and
when cut down must be worked immedi
ately while the sap is flowing.
The l>ark is tirst peeled olf and then
the trees art! treated by a chemical pro
cess, which is the secret of the inventor.
By heavy pressure strong and thin piece?
are produced, which can be used for sole
leather. The new works when completed
will start with about seventy hands. U
they are successful other factories will be
started and the inventor will endeavor to
adapt the process to the manufacture ol
leather for all purposes.
All grain in California is put up in
holding from 100 to 120 pounds
and which cost from seven to eight cent:
MYSTERIOUS SYMPATHY WHICH
KXISTS BETWKKS THEM,
A Great Antipathy Shown Toward
All Twins by Some Savages
—Tilt' Peculiar Customs
of the Ishogos.
Few things are more mysterious than
the undelinable sympathy which often
exists between two beings who came into
the world together. There can be no doubt
that this sympathy is real, and not the
effect of the imagination, as some have
supposed. So far as is known it does
not always develop itself, and when it is
present its cause is not by any means un
derstood. A very real affection generally
exists between twins, and often seems to
show itself in the earliest days of infancy.
It is no uncommon thing for a twin who
lias lost his or her counterpart to pine
away, drooping gradually into the
clutches of the destroyer, who in taking
away the other, has deprived life of all
its joy. But though intense fondness is
no doubt to a great extent the cause of
such sad occurrences, the sympathy which
twins have for one am ♦her shows itself
here. With many savage races twins are
hurried out of the world immediately
they have entered it; others allow them
to live, but only under certain conditions.
In western Africa, a little below the
equator, beteen 10 degrees and 12
degrees east longitude live a
large tribe called the Ishogo. They have
many peculiar customs, but none more so
than their treatment of twins and of the
mother who is so unfortunate as to bear
them. An idea seems to exist with them
that no woman ought to produce more
than a single child at a time, and they
seek to rectify the error by giving their
deities every chance of killing one of the
children before they have arrived at the
age at which they are considered able to
take care of themselves. This is held to
be at about 6 years old; once that age has
been passed, is is thought by these peo
ple that a proper balance between life
death has again been struck, and they do
not deem any further precautions neces
sary. Immediately the birth of twins takes
place, the hut in which the event hap
pened is marked in some manner which
will render it readily distinguishable from
all others in the village.
Those who have read accounts of Afri
can travel will probably remember the
unanimous testimony which explorers of
the dark continent bear to the extraordi
nary loquacity of its natives. Africans
talk as they breathe—unceasingly, and
yet the unfortunate mother of twins is
forbidden to exchange a single word with
an} - but the immediate members of her
family. She may go into the forest for
firewood, and perform the household
work necessary for the existence of her
self and her children, but it must be all
done in strict silence, unless she finds
herself near one of her close relatives.
The consequence of this peculiar custom
is that the Ishogo woman dreads the
event of twins more than anything, ex
cept. perhaps, being childless; and noth
ing irritates a newly-married woman more
than to tell her that she is sure to become
the mother of two children at a birth.
When the six years of probation have
dragged out their weary length, a grand
ceremony is held to celebrate the release
of the the three captives, and their
admission to the society of their fel
lows. At daybreak all the village is
aroused by a proclamation made in
the principal street, aud the mother and
a friend take up their stand on either
side of the door of the hut, having pre
viously whitened their faces. The rest
of the inhabitants of the place congre
gate round about, and at a given signal
the women march away from the hut,
followed by the twins, the mother clap
ping her hands and capering about, the
friend beating a lusty tattoo upon a drum
and singing a song appropriate to the
occasion. After this procession has gone
the round of the village there is a general
dance. Then every one sits down to a
great feast, and eating, drinking and
dancing are carried on for the rest of the
day and all through the night. As soon
as the next day dawns all restrictions
upon the mother and her offspring are
held to be removed. This ceremony is
known as "M'paza," a word which sig
nifies both the twins, and the rite by vir
tue of which they aud their mother are
admitted to the companionship of their
Oases in which one of u pair of twins
lias felt some disturbing influence at
work within him when evil was befalling
his other self are numerous. As with all
matters of the kind, the instances related
Terms—sl.2s in Advance; $1.50 after Three Months.
are apt to border upon the land of fiction,
but there are many which are perfectly
well authenticated. Though twins are
usually alike in form and feature this is
not invariably the case. The writer
knows twin brothers who can scarcely be
said to bear even a family likeness to one
another, and whose complexions goto
the very extremes of darkness and fair
ness. But though unlike, bodily, they
resemble one another mentally to such an
extent that they passed from the bottom
to the top of one of our great public
schools side by side.— London Standard.
Aborigines of Ceylon.
Of the aborigines of the island of Cey
lon only a few—perhaps 2000—remain.
They live among the mountains of the
northern portion, and of them, until very
recently, scarce anything was known.
They are small in stature, rarely more
than four feet six inches in height, but
well proportioned, muscular and active.
On the approach of a dreaded foe, they
go up a tree with the agility of monkeys.
They are savage in their habits and modes
of life,and yet of comparatively mild and
harmless disposition. They avoid the set
tlements, and show no disposition to
make the acquaintance of other people.
They are exceedingly simple, even primi
tive, in their habits, are usually in a state
of nudity, and provide themselves but
little in the way of houses or fixed habita
tions. They have been looked upon as
the lowest type of the human race; it was
said they never laughed, and their lan
guage was scarcely entitled to the name of
An explorer from Queensland —Stevens
—however,has recently paid them a visit,
lived among them for a time, and adds
much to the general stock of information
concerning this peculiar people. They
are not so low in the human scale as had
been supposed. On reaching their coun
try he found them suspicious of his pres
ence, and disposed to be hostile. He suc
ceeded, however, in convincing them
of his amicable intentions, and
on adopting their habits of life was per
mitted to live among them. They are
almost destitute of art, use bows and ar
rows of their own-construction in the
chase, while a small axe of Singhalese
manufacture is almost their only imple
ment besides. They rarely venture on
the sea, live chiefly on the natural pro
ducts of the soil and arc great bee hun
ters. They prize honey for food, and
manufacture a crude beeswax, which they
manage to exchange with neighboring
tribes for the small axes in common use.
Mr. Stephens notes their strange apa
thy in relation to the dead. They made
no objection to his exhuming the bodies
and carying away the skeletons of their
nearest relatives. On one occasion, when
out hunting, one of their number fell over
a cliff and was killed. They asked him
if he wanted the body, and sat by in en
tire indifference while he removed the
flesh and prepared the bones for trans
portation. I?ut for the warm climate and
productive soil they could not live at all,
and as it is, they are gradually dying out.
Accidents are somewhat frequent, for
they climb about the cliffs in search of
honey, and they are not proof against the
jungle-fever; and so the indications are
that not many years will pass till the race
The Long-Horned Beetle.
State Entomologist Lintner has re
ceived from Howe's Cave a specimen of
beetle which has riddled a painted
kitchen floor in that place. The holes
are about a quarter of an inch in diame
ter. The beetle is about an inch long,
gray, with black velvety dashes on its
wings, and the males have horns. Pro
fessor Lintner finds that the depredator is
the long-horned pine-borer. Its larva,
or grub, is the one that causes the injuri
ous and unsightly burrows so often seen
in pine lumber. In this instance the
grubs must have been in the pine logs be
fore they were sawed into flooring.
From some unknown reason the grubs
occasionally remain in a dormant or un
changed condition for a loug time. In
the Museum of the Peabody Academy of
Science at Salem, Mass., one of these
beetles is preserved which had eaten its
way out of the wood of a pine bureau
which was made fifteen years before.
As showing a greater imprisonment of
beetles in furniture it is traditionally said
that in 178 C a sou of General Israel Put
nam, residing in Williamstown, Mass.,
had a table made from one of his apple
trees. Out of this table, twenty years
afterward, a long-horned beetle gnawed
his way out, and a second one burrowed
his way out twenty-eight years after lh<
U-ce was cut down.— New YvrL Time*.
What was it the buzz saw? Saw teeth,
of course.— New York News.
When a man goes to work he generally
takes off his coat, but if he is n painter he
puts on one.
"Dorothy, my love, I think you are
dreadfully extravagant to buy all those
things." "But, my dear Rufus," said
dearest, "I had them charged."
A private Broadway detective agency
advertises that it will do "pumping." A
private detective agency generally has to
get a new "sucker" every time it com
mences to pump.— New York News.
Tramp—"Thank ye, ma'am, for given'
me the grub, but I kin never eat without
a fork." Farmer's Wife—"Well, amble
along, and you'll find a fork in the road
a little further on."— New York Tribune.
"I have met this man," said a lawyer
the other day,"in a great many places
where I would be ashamed to be seen."
And for a minute he couldn't understand
why everybody laughed so uproariously.
—New York Tribune.
Nine of this summer's graduates at
Agontz, the aristocratic Philadelphia
school were Chicago girls and the class
numbered only twenty-one. They all
spell "pork" with a "q-u-e" now.—
Jenny—"Here comes Jack, auntie. I
wish you would come down and stay in
the room." Aunty—"Why?" Jenny
—"l'm afraid he's going to propose and
I can't trust myself—he looks so poor
and so handsome."— Munsey's Weekly.
Johnson—"But can you speedily cir
culate the rumor in a roundabout way
so no one will know where it starts
from?" Anderson—"Yes, I've told it to
my wife as a secret, and she will attend
the sewing society meeting to-day."—
Merchant (to drummer) —"How do I
know that these goods are what you re
present?" Drummer—"You have only
my word for it, but (proudly) I am from
Chicago, and a Chicago man was never
known to tell a lie." (Merchant dies.) —
Clothier and Furnisher.
Stranger (in Chicago) —"I don't see
how you can sleep nights when you know
that bloody Jake is roaming around
loose." Chicago Man—"Jake don't do
anybody any harm now. He's been given
a nice position on the police force."—
New York Mail and Express.
How to Strengthen Children's Teeth.
Teeth are just us easily starved to
death as the stomach. In one way it is a
blessing to have been born of poor pa
rents. What food the poor give their
children is of the variety that goes to
make strong bones and teeth. It is the
outside of all the grains, of all cereal
foods, that contains the carbonate and
phosphate of lime and traces of other
earthy salts which nourish the bony tissue
and build the frame up. If we do not
not furnish to the teeth of the young
that pabulum they require, they cannot
possibly be built up. It is the outside of
corn, oats, wheat, barley and the like, or
the brim so called, that we sift away and
feed to the swine, that the teeth actually
require for their proper nourishment.
The wisdom of man has proved his folly,
shown in every succeeding generation of
teeth, which become more fragile and
weak. These flouring mills arc working
destruction upon the teeth of every man,
woman and child who partakes of their
fine bolted flour. They sift out the car
bonates and the phosphates of lime in or
der that they may provide that fine white
flour which is proving a whitened sepul
chre to teeth. Oatmeal is one of the
best foods for supplying the teeth with
nourishment. It makes the dentine, ce
mentum and enamel stroug, flint-like and
able to resist all forms of decay. If you
have children never allow any white
bread upon your table. Bread made of
whole wheat, ground, not bolted, so that
the bran which contains the minute quan
tities of lime is present, is best. To
make a good, wholesome, nourishing
bread, take two bowls of wheat meal and
one bowl of white or bolted flour and
make by the usual process. Nothing is
superior to brown bread for bone and
tooth building. This is made out of rye
meal and corn-meal. Baked beans, too,
have a considerable supply of these lime
salts and should be on your table, hot or
cold, three times a week. In brushing
the teeth always brush up and down
from the gums, iustead of across. Brush
away from the gum and ou the grinding
surface of the teeth.— American Analyst.
Some $9,000,000 was sent out of the
country lust year by immigrants to theh
friends in the old countries.
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