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MORGANTOWN'. WEST VIRGINIA. SATURDAY. SEPTEMBER 15. 1883. _J1L» VOLUME XIV NUMBER 49. THE FARMER'S WIFE The east tyi gray with a flush of row, flints arc Hinging the world awake. The fanner’s wife baa do time to pause, She has the early meat m make; For well she* knows on this summer day Men are far too busy to wait si hen they are ready to cart the bay And the wagons stand at the gale. Oh I but the flowers in the garden are fair! And ohl but the wind is tool and sweet! She ha- her daily duty and care To keep her busy, both hands and feet. Pertiaps for a moment her heart do*s t iru To the sha iy wt»od and the rippling brook, Hut bread i» to ba u\ and butter to churn, And the twelve o’clock diuner to cook. Perhaps in the warm afternoon, once mora Someth ng within did strongly plead For the rocking chair by the ojien door, And a pleasant pa|>er to read: Ifut men are hungry among the bav; Weary wo k rs must still be fed:’ She get* the flour and tin* kneading tray. And she cheerfully makes the bread. She is hot and tired, when sweet and still The moon comes up like a peaocfu p«alin; She feels her h»nrt to its beauty thr.ll, She longs to s.t t« its bnly calm: Hut now the children must go to bed; r Who but a mother can bear their prayers? Their little torn coats wait tieedlcand thread— Oh! these are the sweetest of all her care*. Hie sit* with a smile on her weary face. The toil of the day is counted not; b>vo gives to labor r tender grace. Hurry and heat art' unite fo got. No need to pity the patient heart Missing the porno and pride of life, J or hers is a woman's noblest part— Honored Mother, and trusted Wife. — LiUir F. Harr, in .V. I'. Lcdj/rr. DREAMS, Viiln Fantafiiei, the ChiUlmi of an idle Vtrain—The Marked Difference lit* tween <'o4ncidencc« and Wiirnlngt-aFeir Hard for I*hiioHopliera to Crack. “ Dreams an* but children of an idle brain, ftegrot of nothing- but vain fantasy." —tihfiki' Well may dreams present us fictions. Slave our wa dnjr mom iitn teem With such fanciful convictions Ah make life itself a dream." —CnmiMtcl. AVhat is a dream? 1< it a temporary frolic of the brain wh eh, released from the guidance of reason, relaxes from rules and laws aqd indulges iu a little incoherent amusement of its own, as the chairs and tahjes are said t « do w hen the family has‘gone to bed and the house is si.11? Does it originate and invent its fantastic images, or arc they merely the shadows and echoes of past events? Is it a psychological in fluence or a spiritual one, or a blending of both? There certainly have been dreams that foretold events which came true, and how, then, d <1 the sleeper get his premonitory knowl edge? Bottles of iiol water placed to the feet will produce certulu impres sions and dreams of vague and unsatis factory nature. lee, applied to the temples, will give happy dreams, in which rare colors appear before the dreamer’s eyes. But these are effects caused by the l.tdMv sensations, and are communicated to the brain by nerves, not by occult intelligence, A Trench writer is quoted as saying that to dream gl Twntsly we must act glori ously wlt.le we are awake, and to bring down angels to con verse wjth us in our sleep we must labor in the cause of virtue during the day. There can be no possible doubt that the same id-a or train of ideas which pursues us through the day fol lows us into the land of dreams and runs up and down the ladder of sleep with a persistency which often is annoy ing and wearisome. Sometimes the idea that eluded us in the day comes to ns ,at night. Mttsicians have found a lost chord in their dreams; mathematic ians have decided abstruse calculations by the correct figures which the r Wak ing minds could not grasp, lmt w.iich came to them clearly wrtett they were wound asleep and were with them when they awoke. Franklin had several of Ids pro ects decided for hint by dre ,nl-\ Sir J. Herschelcomposed poetry in his sleep, which he committed to paper on' awakening.* Goethe says, in his me moirs: “The objects which had occu pied my attention during the day often reappeared at night in connected dreams. In the morn ng 1 Was accus tomed to record my dreams on paper.” Coleridge compos'd his poem of the "Abyssinian Maid” in a dream and it was said of Lord Jeffrey that, although lie went to lied at night with events, plans and dates all in a whirl iu his head, during sleep “they all crvstal iaed around their proper centers.’’ It, is considered atm tug people of edu ■eatton and refinement a vulgar habit to relate dreams or attach any importance to them; yet,we are to^l of Lord Bacon that, he himself records a dream in which he saw his father's house in the country- plastered all over with black ! mortar, and he had no doubt on waking : that he should hear bad tidings. It at” j rnally proved true, as uis father died on ! the very night on which lie dreamed. ; When Postmaster Jewell was dying he j awoke from a brief sleep and inquired if anything was wrong in the family of i :-* mentioning his brother-in-law’s liame. They told him- there was not. When he remarked: “Very strange,” ! and added that he had dreamed there was. His brother-in-law had . ust died, j but the family deemed it best to keep the news from him, fearing fatal re- ! suits. In the old Bible days young men saw ; visions and the om men dreamed ilreams, and great importance was at- j tached to them, as fee history of Joseph 1 show-s. The Egyptians and Babylonians 1 governed thier lives by dreams, as tue 1 Chinese do to-day There Is something j more than an idle superstition in the i matter; but, as all people are not | dreamers, there are many who are.ut- j lerly skeptical. J here are incidents in \ the writer’s knowledge of dreams sore- ! markable that they can not be explained, j If they were warnings, they failed to warn or to alnrm. but they anticipated I strange events. One was that of a little i child who had tiever seen a cotlin or i looked on deatl. He sat at the break fast-table eating his bread and milk, happy and in good health. Suddenly lie looked up at his mother and said: “Mamma, last night when J was 'sleep a man came here with a pritty box for me.” Then he took some bread crumbs and showed his mother the shape of the box. Her heart stood still, for it was the ex act outline of a coffin, and in less than a, week her darling was buried, a vic tim to spasmodic croup. A Mrs. Griffin bad several sons grown to manhood, one of whom—her •-blest and best beloved -- was away fmni rurtv'. The mother slept alone, iq abed-room off the sitting-room. In the night she dreamed that her son earns tiorne. entered the sitting-room, w armed himself at the lire, took off his ct ai and hung it over a chair, and looked in at her a moment, as was ids habit bofort retiring. She tried to speak to him, but could not. In the morning she awoke with the impression that lie had really come home and looked for h's coat and hat. but, as it was not there, concluded he had taken it up-stairs with him. At breakfast, as he did not ap ; jH’nr. she sent one of his bothers up to ! call him. but the young man came back ; and said his bed was not disturbed aud lie had not returned. While they were | eating breakfast he rode into the yard 1 on a powerful black horse lie had 'just ! lioueht. All the family turned out t to Welcome him and iii'pei t his new ! purchase, and as he stepped out with i the animal to show it on it kicked at him riotously, killing him on : the spoi. Four of the live sous in that family died violent deaths, and iu 1 each case the mother had a remarkable | dream. Hut these are coincidences rather than warnings, and are not sus ceptible of any coherent or scientific analysis. That myst lions re 'ex chord 1 which unites kindred may act as an I imperfect spiritual telegraph wire over i which ill news travels in ghostly, intan ; jfible shapes, lint it is worked by no ; unman agency. As the moon controls tlic tides in their ebbing and flowing, so do the powers of air control out world of dreams. It is only when we give them reason! tig or perceptive facul ties that we make a mistake, and over value the r power. Ignorant people fortify themselves with what is called a dream-lwok, By reading il for an interpretation We linil that to dream of snakes denotes an ene my; to dream of a looking-glass, trea son; to dream of receiving letters is a go cl omen: to dream of pearls, pover ty and misery: to dream of peanuts yon will be poor, contented, hearty and liup | py: to dream of a pea oek is’ a sign of poverty; to dream of a wedding is a sign of a funeral, and to dream of a funeral you will go to a wedding. It is believed that certain days and Con ditions will regulate the quality of the dream, “ To-niicht, to-night is Friday night, Isly mo down in duly white; Dream who my husband is to bo: And I iv my children by his side, If I’m to live to ts; his bride." Fortune, marriage and death are the events which the dreamer is always endeavoring to interpret. The first t wo belong naturally to those who are lieginiring life. Gamblers think a great deai of thoir dreams, in regard to cards, but as it is hard to control those erratic messengers a class of peo ple called fortune-tellers do the dream ing for a consideration and predict luck. The queen of hearts is con sidered favorable to marriage and riches. To dream of this card is great good luck. The jack of spades is an ill omen. T lere are conditions at tached to tho objects dreamed of, as this: A maid who ilroftmp of vrrdant- frrovofl, Will KUrOly have the man she love*; lint if the grove** arq nipped with frost, She’!, be Kure In hi irritige cross’t. ’ If a young man dreams of mafyirtg | a pretty g rt, he will he sure to marry a simpleton; and if a girl dreams she has a niCe-looK ng lover, it is a sure sign she will take up with a putty head. “ 'Jo dream you love a girl who's pretty, Foret Its that you’ll in sorrow part: Itiit i;'you dream s le’s wise and witty, She 1 be the darlinar of your heart.1' There is this peculiarity of dreams— they all stop jrtst snort of fulnllment. If we dream of a banquet we awake just as we raise the viands to our lips. We dream of thirst, but not of quench ing it. We dream Of flying, and list as we launch out and are about to en joy Ihe delightful sensation of floating in space we awake with a bumped head j from having come in contact with the I floor. The dreams of an opium eater : >rr<* said to be delightful, but not so are j the contortions and shrieks which ac company them. The same law of con trad ct ion which is used poetically to express the meaning of dreams may be applied to their actions. When a baby sin les sweetly in its sleep the mother says it dreams of angel-, but the doctor explains that it lias the stomach-ache. Lover gives the correlative of this very prettily in ids ballad of Kory O’More: '■ Now, Kory, I'll cry if you don't let me *eo, Sure I dhrurao every night that I'm haling you so." “ (>oh," says Rory, "t hat same I’m delighted to hear. For dtiraines always go by contraries, my dear." —Detroit l'ost and 'J ribune. Chicago Marriage Statistics. The County Clerk issued 168 marriage licenses during the past week. There were three brides who were but 16 years old. Iu one case the groom was 1:5 years older, in one 10 years, and in another 7 years. A groom of 50 years was married to a bride of 26 years. Tne average age of the men was 28 years and of the women 23 years. Of the former there were seventy-three who were 25 years or less, anil < niy seven between 40 and 50 years. Fifty five were be'ween the years of 25 aud 30, aud twenty-eight between 30 and 40. Of the women four were between 40 and 50 years. The largest number, eighty, were between 20 and 25 years. Twenty three were between 25 and 30 years, arid forty-seven 20 years or less. An unusual occu rence was the ap plication of George A. Hamilton for two licenses, which were issued to him. His explanation was that, he being a Cath olic and tire lady to whom he is to be married a Protestant, and both desiring to have the marriage solemnized ac cording to the laws of the church to which they ware members, he found it necessary to have two licenses. The statutes compel the clergyman who of ficiates at the marriage to make a re turn to the CouDtv (lerk, with his cer tificate attached. * The clergyman who otiiciates at the first ceremony would have to retain the license and make his return under it. The clergyman who officiates at the second oeremony must also make a return, which, of course, he could not do without having a li cense, and the onlv way out of the dif ficulty—the first clergyman having the original license—was to obtain a second license. Chicago Inter Ocean. —<'onneetifcnt has a boy whos® aria flows out of the middle of his hack the miRr —Every dairyman should raise *i 'ess* »ne-elght of an acre of corn fodder for each cow to help the pasturo thiougb the dry' season. —Immersion.for at least five mimics, if the vessels in which milk is set will, it is asserted by a member of the French academy, destroy the organism which in the form of dark blue spots distress the dairyman. —A butter-maker, writing to tho fowa ITotneslrrtd, savs tho best butter •olor is 4 pailful of corn-im al mush, led warm ones a day. the corn to bo of the yellow variety; adding that it will increase the milk aud butter as well as give a good color. —Tho Chautauqua method of dis posing of skim milk when it cannot bo sold for human food, or made into profit* able cheese, is the best we kno-v of. The dairymen of that county add a qua t or tyro of bran to a cow's allow ance and feed it to Iter. - The Dairy man. —Prof. Arnold urges dairy farming; first, because it costs ten per cent, less to operate a dairy farm than grain or mixed agriculture; second, the average returns are larger than for other farm ing: third, the prices are more uniform and trustworthy: fourth, it does not exhaust the soil; fifth, it is more secure against changes in the season. —One hundred and thirteen cubic IncN's of cream should make a pound ■>f butter. Any dairyman can judge of the fairness of any can he may use by the following rule: Multiply the square of diameter of can, expressed in inches, by the decimal .78d.'iM8, and the pro duct will be the number of cubic inches of cream, measuring one inch in depth in the can. —Straw and cornstalks can bo best utilized by running them through a cutting box, wetting them and mixing bran or mill feed with thorn, and the more liberal the supply of the latter tho better the cows like it and the greater will be the milk yield. ’.I his i.« a much better way to feed grmnd food than without a mixture. Ventilation iu the Dairy. The importance of a current of pure air through a milk-room where tho milk is set for cream is not sufficiently understood. II i9 supposed that it tho apartment is airy, dry and clean, ana free fi i.m odors more or less offensive or even objectionable, these are suffi cient. lint they are not sufficient unless the term airy !s understood in its full est sense as including not only large space but also a constantly movinp and renewed body of fresh air, purs ail that has not been deprived of its plopci share of oxygen by any previous pro cess of consumption. This is neeoosarj for the following reasons: First, ex posure to pure air prevents the fa rela tion of acid in milk. It is known that milk will sour very rapidly in tho :losc atmosphere of 0 cellar in which tli > ail has been dexodlzed by means of decay ing vegetable matter, or in which tho posts or beams are affected by dry rot. Secondly, wo know that this first tour ing is due to the change of the mil t su gar into lactic acid, a spontaneous change in which no alteration of tlie el ements has occurred, and which re quires nothing more than the mere ab sence of oxygen to affect it. This change will take place very quickly, as many milk dairymen find to their Surprise and cost. When milk is canned tightly before it has been cooled and aired sufficiently. Thirdly,, we know that this needed airing simply nlects the oxidation of the milk re luiretl to destroy the germs present in it, and by the operation of which tho change of the milk sugar to milk acid is produced. Fourthly, it is known that exposure to air, and necessarily to oxygeu, which is the only active ele ment in the air, develops a high flavor in the cream and in the butter made from it, and that cream so exposed to tiie air, or as we term it in common j parlance, ripened, churns more easily than other cream, and produces the ( very best quality of butter as regards color ami flavor. The fact is, the flavor of butter, and of cheese as well, is developed only by a process of oxi dation, airing or ripening, for all these terms mean the same thing, and if tho dairy or cheese-room is not well venti lated and provided with abundance of fresh, pore, moving air, good butter of cheese cannot be made.— The Dairy. A Dairy Cow. A daily eow never reaches perfection in her line until she has arrived at ma turity, and she must reach this period of her life with all her faculties unim paired if we expect her to be as good a cow as nature intended her to be. She differs in this respect from the best beef-growing animals, which are ma ture. as it were from the start, and whose organizations, instead of being impaired for their business by genera tions of high, early feeding, are rather more and more adapted to it. We all know that the oldest and best family'of Shorthorns are not remarkable for con stitutional vigor arid elasticity. They have not. very great muscular strength, are not nervous and powerful in theji movement, and arc deficient in the pro creative powers. A good dairy cow should possess the appearance of strength and firm ness without being too compact, and she should possess no palpably weak point if she is e' peeled to endure well in the work of the dairy. She should not be selected for a breeder unless sbo posse-sea as an inheritance that shape which indi- ates strong vitality and that quality which indicates active secretory functions. In her well shaped strong head, wide muzzle, mild aye, broad forehead, small, waxy horn, slender neck, straight and slender fore legs, sharp chin, loose shoulder, broad ribs, open jointed backbone, mellow skin, preponderating hind-quarters, long hind foot, and broad fore-foot, 1 tuple carcass, well-shaped udder, arge superficial veiny, soft hair, she should indicate a capacity for con certing food into milk, as distinguished _ from the cow whose round and full form and heavier bone and smooth loints, narrow head and heavier qttar ers show an aptitude to take on fat,— farmers' Friend, Opportunity Improved. A young man in this city had been several years attempting to build up a law practice; he hail a slight acquaint ance in the city, he was not naturally of a vet social nature, and he had very little faculty of bringing himself to the notice of inllueutial men. The work that had come to him had been done faithfully, but the stream was a shallow one, and seemed as likely to dry up as to deepen. The young lawyer became discouraged, and began to (question if he had not made a mi-take in choosing a profession, and even to fear that Tiis life would be a failure. Just at this time a friend, also a lawyer, who was go.ng into the country for the. summer, Invited him to occupy the house which his family wore about to leave. Glad to have more commodious quarters at a reduced expense, ho accepted the ln v.tation. and found among his friend's possessions a large and valuable low library, it so happened that he had in his hands at this time a case on appeal to ouo of the higher courts; ho had nothing else to do, and tho library was close at hand, and he spent the summer in a study of tho case so thorough and painstakmg that he mistered the Whole history of jiirisprudenixi bearing upon it. lfo expected very little pcolit from it, but he had the satisfaction of doing a piece of work artistically and ideally well. Autumn came at last, and with it the argument of the-casc in question. It is a common saying among lawyers that east s are oftener wen in the office than in the court-room. The young lawyer showed himself a thorough master* of his ease, and presented it with such clearness, simplicity and vigor that ho held tho attention of tho Judges to the very close. Ouo of those Judges had already decided to leave the bench and return to general practice; the argu ment of the young man arrested his at tention, and resulted in n letter suggest ing an interview. That summer’s work bore irult in a partnership in a leading law firm, and a practice that is to-day among tin; most lucrative and influenti al in t ie city. This bit of history from actual life is repeated hero as an illustration of a f tet, which men are apt to forgot in their moments of discouragement, that every life lias its opportunity. At some time or other along the roau, very like ly at its hardest and drearest point, Success stands with outstretched band. She is rarely discerned at tho moment, but the man who uses every opportuni ty as if it wore tin; great opportunity of h s life is sure not to miss the crown when it is offered because its jewels aro covered. Life is full of vicissitudes, changes and diseouragomenis; it is also full of rewards, prizes and opportuni ties. These come often at the end of a long course of disciplne and patience; but to every true worker in one wav or another t icy do come at last. It is a battle in which there is no final defent to tlio3e iv io slrive lawfully; a race in which no wreaths aro lost to those who run faithfully. If you are at tho point of discourage ment and are beginning to lose heart, think of the host of men who have plucked up success out of tho jaws of failure, Your hour of triumph will come in due time; work and wa.t.—Christian Union. A Fresh Koiuunce. Mr. Thomas Evans, of Louisville, Kv., was formerly a photographer. In the hopes of bettering his fortunes he went to Arkansas on a prospecting tour. That was in the early part of ltidtf. It will be remembered that last year a series of most destructive Hoods oc curred in Arkansas, (j ties and villages were invaded by the relentless element. One night the rain came, and with scores of others, Mr. Evans awoke to find himself in the grasp of the waters. He was rescued by some adventurous boatmen, but in such a weak, uncon scious condition that for eight hours he was believed to be dead. He was taken to a hospital, where he was seized with , an illness which kept him iu bis bed for twelve months, and well-nigh proved fatal. When he grad ually recovered he found himself para lyzed in the arm and hand so that he could not wr te. The letters he dic tated were either miscarried or never sent, so that the only intelligence he re ceived from home was a report of the death of his wife. He recovered all but the use of his hand after awhile, and then it was months before he was able to return to look up his children. In the meantime it was reported here that he was drowned in the Hood, from which, indeed, he so narrowly escaped. Mrs. Evans refused for a long time to believe what everyone else accepted as truth, until: as the we 'ks and months rolled on,with no other tid'nrs of either good or ill, she was at last forced to conclude herself a widow. Toe.pros pect ahead of her was a dreary oue. A joyous surprise was, however, in store for her. As she sat. at her window Thursday, near noon, look ng out on the street, her eye was caught by what seemed a famidar figure. Her heart beat wildly, and looking closely, she saw what seemed to be the ghost of her husband hobbling along the street on crutches and looking eagerly around for tbe house to wnioh he had been di rected. Had a thunderbolt struck her she could not have been more acton ished, and, almost fainting, she sank into a chair, deathly white and trembling. Her little daughter, fright ened at her mother's unnatural appear ance, ran to her s de, and in a weak voice was told to run down to the door and meet her father. The child went to the window, and looking out, saw her father approaching.butthe crutches deceived her, and, retiming to her mother, she said the man was not her papa. By this time, though, he had reached tbe door, and in anoth er moment was in the arms of his wife. Tiie meeting was an affectionate one. Husband ana wife were alike overjoyed at the discovery of the cruel mistake under which they had been laboring, and the children were almost insane with happiness. — Louisville (Ky.) Cour ier*Journaf. —A little girl on Long Island offered a rather remarkable prayer a lew nights ago when she said: “Ido thank Thee, God, for all. my blessings, and I’ll do as much for you stone tim<|,'' Hon the Mount tin* (Iron. The interesting qncition of the origin and rise of the mountain chains has been ' matte the subjoin of more especial In I vestication t)_v Preach anil American ; than by English geulngsts. Nearly half a century ago the late El ode Henn | m<>nt gore to the world the result of his ; researches. In his ** Systeme ties Mon j tagnes,” in which ho propounded an hypothesis that st 11 receives very gen eral acceptance on the continent, tut which, except in a modified view, has found few supporters in th s country. Assam ng for our globe an outer solid crust with a cent al liqu d mass, this distinguished geologist showed that the earth is Incessantly losing some portion Of its heat by nutation from Its surface, and that this process of cooling, which has been going on at a slow rate from the earliest geological times, causes the central mass to contract aud lessen in volume. This lcssen ng of the heated ntt le-is has led the crust to contort itself in order to fit or adapt itself to he diminished volume oi the central nucleus, causing the crust to wrinkle or fold in grant corrugations or to fract ure, anti the fractured edges to squeeze up iu lines of mountain chains. He showed that mountain cha’us have been formed at all geolog,eal periods, and that their relative age coultl be as certained by determining the age of the* tilted mountain strata, and the age of those strata which abut horizontally against their baso. For it is evident that the mountain range must have been elevated before the deposition of the strata which lie horizontally at their base, and wh ch are unaffected’ by the disturbance that threw' up the mount ains. It follows, therefore, that the mouutain chain is older titan the hori zontal strata nnd newer than the up heaved strata. Thus the age of any mountain range is easily determined, relatively to the successive groups of strata forming tlio sedimentary series. Ehe do Beaumont further argued that, as the crust of the osrtli must have be come thicker by secular refrige ation it follows that the crust was thinner affd less strong at the earlier period of the earth’s history than of the later periods, and, consequently, that the crumplings and mountain c)ia ns, although more frequent, were not on so large a scale in early geological times as when tho crust had become thicker nnd more rigid. But although there is no doubt that some of tho oldest mountains aro very insignificant in height, we havo no means of knowing what their original altitude was or how much of their mass has been removed bv wear and denuda tion. Some of the hills in the neigh borhood of St. Davis, in South Wales, are ne ther majestic nof lofty, yet they are among tho earliest of our mountai’u ranges. Or look, again, at a range of hills of much InijC date, yet st ill very old, as for example, at the Mentlips in our own country, nnd the Ardenuos in Belgium, both portions of tho same mountain chain, raised before the formation of our Oolitic hills of Bath nnd Chelten ham,* or of the Lins cliffs or Lyme Keg s. It is possible that this range, which is now of comparative insignifi cance in no case attaining a height, of 2,000 feet in either England or Belgium —formed at one time a lofty mountain chain. For, udging from the portions that aro wanting and linvo been re moved from the Mentlips, it has been estimated that those lulls may at one time have had an elevation of not less than 0,000 to 8,000 feet above tho plains of Somersetshire, while the Belgian ge olog s's have shown that the Ardennes might have soured from 16,000 to 18, 00.J feet above the plains of Belgium. This chain, now so unimportant, may at one time havo vied with the later formed Alps and Apennines in height and gsanduur. How strange aud sSrik a picture our corner of Western Eu rope must havo presented to that early age, when the English Channel was not, and when a great chain of mountains, possibly snow-capped, ranged from the Mendips to Westphalia! The port'ons which remain are, ns it were, tlie worn down stumps of this great mountain chain, the whole of the vast superin cumbent mass having been removed by wear and denudation continued through long geological times. And such lias been the case in many other mountain regions of our globe; on the one hand deformation being produced by subter ranean forces, anti on the other planing down and levelling by meteorological agencies—Uood Words. Long Suffering Bruin. In the fall of 1879 Jacob Ehrout, a hunter and trapper, set a trap for* a bear near a large swamp among tbe logging t amps of this county, and a few miles from Grqgg’s settlement Bears were unusually plenty in the woods that year, and one- of immense size had been seen s veral times in the neighborhood of the swamp, but it had eluded all cliorts of hunters to capture it. The trap mentioned was set for the special purpose of ensnaring this bear. In setting a I ear-trap a triangular pen is constructed out of small logs or sap lings. In this inclostire the trap, which is a ponderous steel ailair, with sharp toothed aws, is set. From it a chain extends to tbe outside of the pen, aud is fastened to a heavy piece of timber. The trap is placed so that if a bear en ters to s 'cure the meat or honey which is placed in the pen to attract him he can not avoid stepping on the pan of the trap, the jaws of which instantly spring shut, sinking their teeth deep in the flesh of the bear’s paw. The bear's efforts to escape with the trap is prevented by the timber to which it is chained, which becomes interlocked in the trunks of trees and hold Bruin cap tive. It happens once in a great, while that the bear succeeds in dragging the trap and timber for miles, but they so retard his progress that tbe trapper finds no difficulty in coming np with him and ending his misery with a rite ball. It is not an infrequent occurrence : for a bear to obtain its freedom by tear- j ing off the imprisoned paw and leaving it .n the trap, and many old hunters affirm that bears have been known to deliberately gnaw off an imprisoned paw and make their escape. This is what the trapper Ehrout claims the I bear did which he set tbe trap for re- [ (erred to above, tor when he visited the I pen next morning lie found the trap on the outside, and fast between its tooth the largest bear-paw lie had ever seen. It was one of tho fore-paws. The I>oar could be tracked by the blood from its lacerated leg for a mile, where It entered the swamp, which was so dense that no man could enter. Dogs wore sent in, and from tho faot that some of them never came out, while others returned with torn tlcsh. It was surmised that the I tear had boon over taken bv them, but could not be over come. Nothing more was seen or heard of the brute, and it was tho opin on that it had tiro' ably received injuries from which it died, Rady in the present season a party of Philadelphia gentlemen were trout-fish ing in the vicinity of the settlement.nud one day they reported having seen a very largo bear cross the creek not far from their camp, and that when it climbed out of the stream on the other side it limped as if it had born injured. A hunt Was organised, but, although it lasted three days, the bear was not lo.nd. Two smaller ones were killed near the head-waters of the creek, one of which killed the dog of a hunter named Haynes, and forced tho hunter himself to n haiid-to-hnnd tight before it receitcd its death wound. About thro.' weeks ago a sheep, a pig and a calf belonging to resIdentJ of the settle ment disappeared from the inelosure, and a few days afterward saute children returning from soliool saw a large bear cross the roi.d within a <pm ter of n mile of tho school-house. They re mitted that it was very large and only bad three logs. No doubt was felt that the bear had made the inroads on tho pastures and pig-stilus of tho settle ment, but nn extended hunt failed to bring Bruin down, although his tra I was struck several times nnd followed for miles, lie exhibited more than tho usual eunn’fig of his kind in escapin'? from ids pursuers. It was decided finally, to give up hunting for him, and to set a nightly watch at the pastures, in the hope tliat he night return for more niuttou or veal and lie captured. The watch was kept, up without being rewarded until last, Sunday night. William Hnvrtes, tieorge Wing and Harvey Straug were acting ns sentinels at the sheep pastiue of the first-named when, about, ten o’clock, a huge dark object was seen to mount the rail-fence not more than a hundred foot away from where they sat concealed behind a clump of elders, and iiinp sslowly ( ward a knoll on which a llock ol sheep were f etling, It was evidently the much-hunted cunning bear that had ventured once more on a foraging ex pedition. He was a short rifle-shot away, and Haynes fired. The bear fell, but was on his feet in am- ment turned and made back toward file spot whore lie had entered the licld at as ccd which was remarkable if he had only the three legs ho was reputed to have. Wing and Strang sprang over the fence, and made haste to head Bruin oil'. Haynes fol lowed the bear, which scaled the fence only hi meet the other two men on the other side. 'They both tired, and the hear fell to the ground again. O ice more he regained Ids feet, and. finding himself brought to bay, raised on his haunches and rushen at once upon Wing and Strang. A ball from Haynes’ rifle stopped the huge brute again, Ii >w ever, anti lie fell on tho ground, unah o to rise. Another ball, which was sent through his heart, ended his career. The noise of the rdles gave the signal toother wit’oilers and lo the entire set tlement, and every man, woman and child had gathered around tho prostrate bear almost before he was dead. The re ,oicing was great. The hear had but three paws, tho right fore-paw being gone. 'The stump had apparently been healed a long time. Tuo general bu lief is the bear was the one which es caped from Ehrout’s trap in 1879, and which, after wandering about the coun try. had returned to his old haunts. Tho carcass weighed over four hundred pounds.—La torle Cor. N. Y. Timex. How to Cure Gossip. A Now York pastor has thin advice to give on the subject. It is certainly an original plan: Adopt thiR rule: Let all who come to yon with stories about mutual acquaint ances know that you intend, as soon as your duties allow, to wait upon the par ties spoken of disparagingly and repeat just what was said, and who sail it Still better, takeout your memorandum book, and ask the party to allow you to copy the wo: ds, so that you can make no mistake. You will have to do this probably not more than three times. It will fly among your acquaintances on the wings of the gossips, and persons who come tofome to talk aga'nst other persons in your*presence will heg’n to feel as if they were testifying under oath. But you ask: “ Will it not be mean to go off and detail conversations?” Not at all, when your interlbcuter under stands that he must not taik against an absent person in your presence, without expecting you to convey the words to the absent person and the name of the speaker. Moreover, what right has any man or woman to approach you ami bind you to secrecy, and then poison vour 'mind against an -ther? If there oc any d.fference in your obligations, are you not botind more to the m m who is absent than the man who is present? If you can thus help to kill gossio, it will not matter if you lose a friend or two; each friends as these, who talk against others to you, are the very per sons to talk against you to them. Try our rule. We know it to be good. We use it. It is known in the church of which wo are pastor that if any one speaks to us disparagingly of an absent member we hold it oui dnty to go to that absent mem ber immediately, and report the con versation and the names, or still better, to make the party disparaging face the party disparage:!. We have almost none of this to do. Amid the many annoyances which necessarily come to the pastor of a large church, and still larger congregation, we think that we are as free from the annoyance of go.-;-. - as it is possible for a 'nan to be who lives among his lellow-men. Try our rule; try it faiibfulL, with meekness and charity, and If it docs not work well, let ua know.— M Y. iner. PERSONAL AN!) LITERARY, —When Henry Ward Beecher wu at Grand Fork*. Dak., he was invitwd tv unipiiv a base bull match. —Miss Mollic Cartield and MIm Fanny Hayes, daughters *jf two «*• Presidents, attend the same school in Cleveland. —A young tooth, eoming cut m natural as if in oh Idhood. is mi -sed by Mrs. lsaliclla Wooden, of Colusa, CoS., who is the m 'tlier of two boy* over soventy-oignt years old. — Chicago Timm'. —Th re nre two la lies in the rielgk boho d of iVewb in, Ala., who wore living in that sect on before Alabama was a State. That was before Stilt). The net organisi ng the territory date! two years previously. —•• For lifty-four years I was an In veterate o gar-smoker,” says Thnrlosr Weed in bis autobiography, “though never using tobacco in any other form. During that per od I learn, by a some what careful compulation, that I mutt nave smoked or given to friends at least oighly thousand eigars.” .Tom T limb’s full name was Charles Sherwood Stratton, not Uh wood, as generally announced. In the Motititn ntlrve Cemetery in Bridge port, Conn., years ago lie bought a lot ami erected a tall marble shaft, sur mounted by iv life-size stntuJ of him self. Near this monument ho wm buried.--A'. F. Cos/. -Mrs. F.li/.n (Iraeie Hulsey, widow of Rev. i harles Halsey, and (laughter of the late Cliarles King, IX. Di. Proai* dent of Col limb'a Co lego, died Ht El za beth, N. recently, in her seventy third year. Mrs. II ilsey, at, the age of fourteen years, welcomed Lafayette to New York, at Castle Garden, when he v'siteil this country in 1824.—if. T. Tunes. -—Colonel William K. f'urtie, manag ing «litor of the litter Ocean is, it may not lie generally known, but it ia nevertheless the fact, the author and composer of the beautiful ballads which sporadically appear .supplementary to our esteemed contemporary. One of these ballads: “Wait till the Clouds Roll lly, .Jennio,” fs now before us. Wu uro not tui'pialntcd with Jennie, but no confidence is violated In the statement, that the ballad is one of ex traordiuary merit,.ClUoai/o Aews. — Miss Murphy, of San Francisco, who was married the other day to Baronet Wolseloy, could not have married him for ids title. Her bus band, who is (Id i noi'gh to be her father, is only a Baronet, while her papn, who was plain Dan Murphy when lie left Cork for Ran Franoisoo several years ago, is now a Maripiis— of the Holy Roman Empire—and a Knight of SI. Gregory. Thu Pop* made ldm both five or six year* ago. The Pope ivIho sent bis blessing to th# young couple. Old Murphy, when h* got spliced to Lady WolseleV’s mamma did not receive any papal blc-sing. They got on very well, however. Tliair batik account runs into the million*.-— Ghicayo Tribune. HUMOROUS. —“Here, boys!’’ exclaimed a kind old grandma, “I wouldn t slide down tlioso b.mis'ers. I wouldn’* do itl” “Yoy wouldn't do it. grandninP Why, you couldn’t!” exclaimed litti* Tommy. —Eli Perkins. —In one chapter.—Boy melon- - shady spot secluded nook- yumlyural all gone boy sighs colic comes- bey howls mother scares lathe, jaws— doctor comes—colic goes—boy well— wants more—(notice of funeral-ereafb er.)—Detroit Free Press. —A private message to the Boston Post says that the Society for the Pre vention of Cruelty to Animals threat ens to arrest .lay Gould, Cyrns W, Field, Bussell Sage, and a number of other New York farmers. They haven't watered their stock for over a month. —The speaker who alluded to his candid ite as “the war-horse that snuffed the battle from afar,” climbed up to the composition room with a club nf or reading it in the paper as “the ward boss that snatched tbo bott’e from a bar.”—Boston Commercial Bul letin. —Mrs. Ramsbotham likes the enter tainment at the Fis erics. .She says the Foreign Thingutnmyjigian Band plays beautifully. “I like t > see them, says Mrs. R., iu full unicorn, when they’re dressed In Prussian Blue and- wear the regular German Piokletub helmet.”— Punch. —It is a common saying that a wom an can't k er> a secret as w 11 ns a man. All bosh. Why, a woman will keep a secret that a man would forget In two hours, long enough to spread it over two counties. She never loses her grip emit till she gets a better one.—Bumntjton Free Press. —Poot's wife remarked to him, as they sta ted out the other night to take supper with the Browns, tiiat she ex po ted Mrs. B. would have a stunning coiffure. “Well, I’m sure I hope so, grumbled Poo s, “I haven't had any thing good to eat siuee the last time we were at mother's.”—Lowell Courier. —“Mamma,” cried a little four-year old girl, after cora:ng from a walk with her next oldest sister, “Mamie shoved .-gainst me and pushed me down right before some gentlemen, and hurt mo, too. “Well, it doesn’t hurt you now, does it? Then why do yon cry?” “’Cause I didn t cry any when she pushed me down.’ ’—Kentucky Journal. —The high-school girl asked her brother Jim o go with her to the festi val Wednesday night. For a wonder be was willing, and. replied": “I’m your oyster.” “Dear! dear! shall I never be able to impress upon your mind the utter wickedness of slang?’’ sa d she; “you should say: ‘I am your acephal ous mollusk.’ ”—Oil City Derrick. —An able-bodied insect: The guard of an English railway oarriage recently refused to allow a naturalist to cturry * live hedgehog wi h him. The traveler, indignant, pulled a turtle from his wal let, and said: “Take this, too;’’ but the guard replied, good-naturedly: “H# no, sir. It’s dogs you can’t carry, anddqgp is dogs, cats fs dogs, and ’edgt^ogs 1# ■logs, but turtles is insect**,’*