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**,’*