VOL. LV.
HARTER,
AUCTIONEER,
REBERSBURG. PA.
J C SPRINGER,
Fashionable Barber.
Next D,ior to JOURNAL Store,
MILI.HKIH, PA.
JgROCKERHOFF HOUSE,
(Opposite Court House.)
H. BROCKEBHOFF, Proprietor.
WU. MCKKKVKR, Manager.
Goal sample rooms *u first floor.
Free bus to and from all trains.
Special rates to jurors and wttne-ses.
Strictly First Class.
IRVIN HOUSE.
(Mast Central Hotel iu the City,)
Corner MAIN and JAY Streets,
Lock Haven, Pa.
S. WOODS IALWKLL, Proprietor.
Good Sample Rooms for Commercial
Travelers on first floor.
|JR. D. H. MINGLE.
Physician and Surgeou,
MAIN Street, MILLHKIM, Pa.
JOHN F. HARTER,
PRACTICAL DENTIST,
Office in 2d story of Tomliuson's Gro
cery Store,
On MAIN Street, MILLHKIM, Pa.
C. T. Alexander. C. M. Bower.
ATTORNEYS AT LAW.
BKLLETONTB, PA.
Oince in Qannan's new building.
JOHN B. LINN,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Office OB Allegheny Street.
QLEMENT DALE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Northwest corner ot Diamond.
Y° cum & HASTINGS,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW.
BELLEFONTE, PA.
High Street, opposite First National Bank.
% C.HEINLE,
ATTORNEY AT LA W.
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Practices in all the courts of Centre County.
Spec al attention to Collections. Consultations
in German or English.
ilbur f * REEDER,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BELLEFONTE, PA.
All business promptly attended to. Collection
of claims a speciality.
J. A. Beaver. J W. Gephart.
JJEAVER <fc GEPHART.
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
BELLEFONTE, FA.
Office on Alleghany Street, North of High.
A. MORRISON,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BELLEFONTE, PA
Office on Woodrlng's Block, Opposite Court
House.
S. KELLER,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BELLEFONTE, PA
Consultations In English or German. Office
in Lyon's Building, Allegheny Street.
JOHN G. LOVE,
* ATTORNEY AT LAW. ;
BELLEFONTE, PA
Office in the rooms formerly occupied by the
late w. P. Wilson.
ADVERTISE IN THE
Millheim Journa 1
RATES ON APPLICATION.
She pilthcim luirtal
BY THK NORTH SKA.
Miles, and uiiles, and miles of dvsolattou !
Leagues on leagues on leagues without aehauge,
Sign or token of some eldest nation,
Here would make the strange land not so strange,
rime forgotten, yea siuee lime's creation,
Seeiu these borders where the sea birds range.
Slowly, gladly, full of peace aud wonder
Grows his heart who journeys here alone,
Karth aud all its thoughts of earth sink under
Deep as deep iu water sinks a stone.
Hardly knows it if the rollers thunder,
Hardly whcuce the lonely wind is blowu.
Tall the plumage of the rush-flower tosses,
Sharp and soft in tuany a curve and line
Gleam and glow the sea-colored marsh-mosses,
Salt aud spleudid from the circling brine.
Streak on streak of glimmering seashlue crosses
All the land sea-saturate aa with wine.
Far and far between, in divers orders,
Clear gray steeples cleave the low gray sky ;
Fast and Arm as time-unshaken warders,
Hearts made sure by faith, by hope made high,
These alone in all the wild sea-borders
Fears uo blast of days and nights that die.
All the laud is like as oue man's face is,
Pale and troubled still with change of cares.
Doubt and death pervade her clouded spaces;
Strength ami length of life ami peace are theirs
Theirs alone amid these weary places,
Seeing not how the wide world frets and fares
Firm and fast where all is cloud that changes,
Cloud-clogged sunlight, cloud by sunlight thinned
Stern and sweet, above the sand-hill ranges
Watch the towers aud tombs of men that sinned
Once, uow calm as earth whose only chauge is
Wind, aud light, and wind, aud cloud, and wind
LITTLE KATE ASl> I.
We didn't wait fur an income to marry
on, little Kate and I. We had no rick
relations to leave us legacies or to send
l>earl necklaces, diamond ornaments, or
thousand dollar bonds for wedding pres
ents. 1 was simply a brakemau on the
Eastern Michigan Railway, a long and
lonely stretch of rails over desolate
marshes, steep mountain grades, and
solitary sweeps of prairie land; she was
tha bright-eyed waitress in one of the
restaurants along the hue. But when 1
fell from the platform when the great
accident happened—you've heard of the
Great Accident, I suppose, when there
was such a shocking loss of life—-it was
Kate's care, and nothing else, that
brought me back into the world I hail
so nearly quitted for good and all!
"I would have done it for anybody,
Mark !" said she, when I tried to thank
her.
"Would you?" said I. "But it isn't
everylsxly that would have done it for
me, Kate!'"
So I asked her to marry me, and she
said yes. And I took a little cottage on
the edge of the Swampscot woods, and
furnished it as well As I could, with a
red carpet, cheese-cloth curtains at the
windows, a real Connecticut clock, and a
set of walnut chairs that I made myself,
with seats of rushes, woven in by old
Billy, the Indian, who carried his bas
kets and mats around the country, and
Mrs. Perkins, the parson's wife, made
us a wedding cake, and so we were mar
ried. Pretty soon I found out that Kate
was pining a little.
"What is it, sweetheart ?"said I. "Re
member, it was a contract between us
that we were to have no secrets from each
other ! Are you not perfectly happy ?"
"Oh, yes, yes!" cried Kate, hiding
her face on my shoulder. "But it's my
mother, Mark. She's getting old, and
if I could only go East to see her, just
once, before the Lord takes her away !
It was then that I felt the sting of my
povertv most. If I had only been a rich
man to have handed her out a check, and
said "Go at once !" I think I could have
been quite happy.
"Never mind, sweetheart," said I,
stroking down her hair. "We'll manage
it after a little. We'll lay up a few dol
lars from month to month, and you shall
go out and see her before she dies !"
And with that little Kate was forced
to be content. But there was a hungry
homesick look upon her face which it
went to my heart to see.
"If I was rich !" I kept saying to my
self. "Oh, if I was only rich !"
One stormy autumn night we were be
lated on the road, for the wind was ter
rible, shaking the century old pines and
oaks, as if they were nothing more than
tall swamp grasses, and driving
through the ravines with a slniek
and a howl like a whole pack of hungry
wolvesr And the heavy rains had raised
the streams so that we were compelled
to go carefully and slowly over the
bridges, and keep a long look ahead for
fear of accidents.
I was standing at my post, in front of
the second passenger car, stamping my
feet on the platform to keep them warm,
and hoping little Kate would not be per
turbed at my prolonged absence, when
the news agent came chuckling out:
"We're to stop at Stuinpville Station,"
said he.
"Nonsense," said I, "I know better.
This train never stops short of Wauken
sha City, least of all when we are run
ning to make up for lost time, as we are
to-night.
"Oh, but this is an exceptional occa
sion," said Johnny Mills (which was the
news agent's name. "We're going to
put an old woman off.) She has lost her
ticket, she says. More likely she never
had one. Goes on as though she'd had
her pocket picked."
* -It's most a pity, isn't it, to put one
off to-night ?"Baid I. Least of all at such
a lonely place as Stumpville Station,
where there are only two houses and a
blacksmith shop."
"Yes, I know," said Mills, adjusting
the newspapers that he carried in a rub
ber case under his arm. "But the Sup
erintendent of the road has got out a
new set of instructions, and he's that
particular that Jones wouldn't dare to
overlook a case like this. There's been
MILLHEIM, PA., THURSDAY, AUGUST 4. JSBI
so in tiny confidence games played on the
road lately."
"Which is the one ?" said 1, turning
to hn>k at the end window of the car
which was at the rear.
"Don't you see? The old party at the
back of the two fat women in the red
shawls. She's haranguing Jones now."
"1 see," saiil I. It was a little old
woman iu black silk poke-bonnet, a re
speetable cloth cloak, bordered with an
cient fur, and a long green veil, who was
earnestly talking and gesticulating with
the conductor. But he slnsik his head
and passed on, and she sank back in a
helpless little heap behind the green
veil, and 1 could sec her take a small
handkerchief from a small basket and
put it piteouslv to her eyes.
"It's too bad," said I. "Jones might
rememlver that he once had—if he hasn't
got now—a mother of his own."
"And lose his place on the road, "said
Mills, "No, no, old fellow, all that
sort of thing does very well to talk about,
but it don't work in real life."
So he went into the next ear, and the
signal to slack up came presently. I
turned to Mr. Jones, the conductor, who
just thou stepped out on the platform.
"Is it for that old lady?" said I. He
answered, "Yes." Said 1, ' How far did
she want to go?" "To Swampscott,"
said he.
"You needn't stop, Mr. Jones," said
I, "I'll pay her fare."
"You!" he echoed.
"Yes, I," said I. "I'll take her to my
own house, until she can telegrtqm to
her friends or something. My wife will
be gotnl to her, 1 know, for the sake of
her own old mother out West!"
"Just as you please," said Mr. Jones,
"Hut when you've been on the road as
long as I have, you'll tind that this sort
of thing doesn't answer."
"I hope I shall never be on the road
too long to forget mv Christian charity,"
I answered, a little nettled. And I took
out my worn pocket-lx>ok and handed
over the money.
We did not stop at Stumpvillo Station
after all, but put on more steam and ran
as fast as it was safe to drive our engine
—and when, a little past midnight, we
reached Swampscott, where we were due
at 7:30, Pierre Bene, the Frenchman,
came on Ixnird to relieve me, and I help
ed my old lady off the train, tiat basket,
traveling bag and all.
"Am I to be put off after all?" said she.
with a scared look around her.
"Cheer up, ma'am," said I, "You are
all right. Now, then—look out for the
step! Here ***>." ,
"Where am I?" me ofc y.
"At Swampscott, ma'am," said I.
"And you are the kind man who paid
my fare?" said she. "But my daughter
and her husband w ill repay you when—"
"All right, ma'am," said L "And now,
if you'll just take my arm, we'll be home
in a quarter of an hour."
"But," said she, "why can't I go di
rectly to my destination?"
"It's middling late, ma'am," said I.
"And houses don't stand shoulder to
shoulder iu Swampscott. My nearest
neighbor is a mile anil a-half away. But
never fear, ma'am, I've a wife that will
be glad to bid you welcome for the sake
of her own mother."
She murmured a few words of thanks,
but she was old and weary, and the path
was rough and uneven, in the very teeth
of the keen November blast— JUKl walk
ing wasn't an easy task. And presently,
we came to the little cottage on the edge
of the Swampscott woods, where the
light glowed warmly through tin Turkey
red curtains.
"Oh, Mark, dearest, how late you are?"
cried Kate, making haste to open the
door. "Come in, quick, out of the
wind. Supper is all ready, and—but who
is that with you?"
In a hurried whisper I told her all.
"Did I do right,' Katie,?" said I.
"Right! Of conre you did," said she.
"Ask her to come iu at once. And I'll
put another cup and saucer on the table."
Tenderly I assisted the chilled and
weary old lady across the threshold.
"Here's my wife," said I. "And
here's a cup of smoking hot coffee and
some of Katie's own biscuits and chicken
pie! You'll be all right when the cold
is out of your joints a hit!"
"You arc very, very welcome," said
Kate, brightly, as she advanced to untie
our visitor's veil and loosen the folds of
her cloak. But, all of a sudden, I heard
a cry, "Mother, oh, mother!"
And looking around, I saw Kate and
the old lady clasped in each other's arms.
"Hold on, Kate!" said I, with the
coffee-pot still in my hand, as I had been
lifting it from the tire. "This is never —"
"But it is, Mark!" cried out Kate,
breathlessly. "It's mother; my own
mother! Oh, help me, dearest, quickly;
she has fainted away!"
But she was all right again, presently,
sitting by the fire with her feet on one of
the warm cushions, which Kate had knit
on wooden needles, and drinking hot
coffee. It was all true. The unfortunate
passenger whose pocket had been picked
on the train, and to whose rescue I had
come, was no other than my Kate's own
mother, who had determined to risk the
perils of a journey to the far West to see
her child once again.
And she lias been with us ever since,
the dearest old mother-in-law that ever a
man had, the comfort of our household,
and the guardian angel of little Kate and
the baby, when I am away on my long
trips.
And little Kate declares now that she
is "perfectly happy!" God bless her—
may she never be otherwise
The White Stripe.
A rough-looking man? Yes, pe-lmps 1
am. We ain't all responsible for iur out
side husk, uo more than a horse-dicstuut
or a hazel nut is. The kiud of lift I lead
can't be lived in white kid gloves aui dress
coats. 1 wasu't brought up with maiy ad
antages, and I'm only a brakemai on
the Rensselaer & Saratoga Line. Old
Jones was telling you about me, WHI he,
sir? He'd better hold his tongue. There's
more profitable subjects of conversation
than i am. But Old Jones means well
enough, aud if he told you to ask me how
that stripe of white hair came on my black
mane, 1 ain't the man to go back on hint.
Oh, you needn't beg my pardon, sir! 1
don't mind talking about it now, though
the time was when I couldn't speak of it
without a big lump commg in my throat.
We hadn't beeu married long, Polly and
me, when it happened. Polly was as trim
and bright-eyed a slip of a girl as ever
you'd wish to see. She was oue of the
waitresses in the Albany lunch room; aud
the first 1 ever set eyes upon her I made
up my miud to make that girl my wife.
So, when they raised mv wages, I took
heart and asked her if she would have them
with me, with a wedding ring thrown iu
the bargain.
"Do you really mean it, Jake?'* said she,
looking me fully iu the face, with those
dark blue eyes of hers, that are like skies
in the night.
"I do really mean it, Polly," said I.
"Then," said sheputting both her hands
into mine, "I'll trust you, I've no living
relative to advise me, so I can only take
council with my heart."
So we were married. I rented a little
one-story house, under the hill on the
height that overlooked the Hudson—a co
zy place, with a good-sized wood-pile at
the rear, for winter meant winter m those
parts and the snow used to be drifted up
even with our door yard fence many aud
many a cold grey morning. And every
thing went smooth until Polly began to
object to my mates at the White Black
bird. ad the. Saturday evenings I spent
with the lioys, after my train was safely
run on the side track at the junction.
"SVhy, Polly, girl," said 1, where's the
harm? A man can't live by himself, like
an oyster in its shell, and a social glass
never yet banned any one."
"No," said Polly, ,4 not a social glass,
Jake, but the habit And if you would
only put every five cent piece that you
spent for liquor into cur little Bertie's tiny
savings bank—'
"Pshaw!" said L "I'm not a drunk
ard, and 1 nevei mean to become one. Aud
no oue likes to be preached to by his wife,
Polly. Remember that, my girl, aud you'll
save yourself a deal of trouble."
J kissed her and went away. But that
was the beginning of the little, grave shad
ows. that grew on my Polly'a face, like a
creeping fog over the hills, and that she
has never got rid of since.
It was a sore point between us—whit
the politicians call & vexed question. 1
felt that Poiiy wa *;<ching me;
ami x .. IBU u) be pU. . _5 _p,
strings by a woman. So—l shame to say
it —I went to the W bite Blackbird oftener
than ever, and I didn't often count the
glasses of beer that I drank, and ouce or
twice, of a particularly cold night, I let
myself be persuaded into drinking some
thing stronger than beer; and my brain
wasn't the kind that could stand liquid
with impunity. And Polly cried, and 1
lost my temper, and —well, I don't like to
think of all these things now. Thank
goodness they are over and gone.
That afternoon as 1 stood on the back
platform of my car, with my arms folded
and my eyes fixed on the snowy waste of
flat fields through which the iron track
seemed to extend itself like an endless
black serpent, 1 looked my own life in the
face. 1 made up my mind that 1 had been
behaving like a brute.
"What are those senseless fellows at the
White blackbird to me," muttered I, "as
compared with one of Polly's sweet, bright
looks? I will give the whole thing up, I'll
draw the line just here now We shall be
off duty early
astonish Polly!"
But as night fell, the blinding drift of a
great snow storm came with it. We were
belated by the snow which collected on
the rails, and when we reached Earldale
there was a little girl, who had been sent
on in the care of the conductor, who must
wait either three or four hours for away
train in the cold and cheerless station, or
be taken borne across a snowy field by
some one who knew the way.
1 thought of iny own little children. "IU
take her," said I —and lifting her up, 1
gathered my coarse, warm coat about her,
and I started for the long, cold walk under
the whispering pines along the edge of the
river.
1 honestly believe she would have frozen
to death if she had been left in the cold
station until the way train could call for
her. And when I had left, her safe in
charge of her aunt, I saw by the old kitch
en time-piece that it was ten o'clock.
"Polly will think I have slipped back
into the Slough of Degpond," I said to my
self, with half smile; "but I'll give her an
agreeable surprise!''
Ploughing down amid the snow drift
through a grove of pine trees that edged a
ravine at the back of my house, I sprang
lightly on the door-step; the door was shut
anil locked, i went around to the front.
Here 1 effected aud entrance, nut the fire
was dying on the hearth aud little Bertie,
tucked up in his crib called out.
"Papa, is that you?"
'Where is mamma, my son?" I asked
looking eagerly around at the desolate
room.
"Gone out with the baby in her arms to
look for vou;" he said. "Didn't yon meet
her, papa?" •
1 stood a minute in silence.
"Lie still, Bertie," said 1, in a voice that
sounded strange and husky even to myself.
And I thought with dismay, of the
blinding snowstorm outside, the treacher
ous gorges, which lay between there and
the White Blackbird, the trackless woods,
through which it was difficult enough to
find one's way even in the sunshine of
noonday, and—worst of all —the lonely
track, across which an "express" shot like
a meteor a few minutes before midnight.
Oh, heavenl what possible doom might 1
not have brought upon myself by the
wretched passion iu which 1 had gone
away that morning!
The town clock, sounding dim and muf
fled through the storm, struck eleven as I
burned down the hill. Eleven —and who
knew what a length of time might elapse
before I could find her? And like a fiery
phantasmagoria before my mind's eye, I
beheld the wild tush of the midnight ex
press, and dreaded—l knew not what.
For all that i could realize was, that the
storm was growing fiercer with every mo
ment, aud Polly and the baby were out in
its fury.
As steadily as I could, 1 worked my way
down toward the track, but more than
once 1 became bewildered, aud had to stop
and reflect before 1 could resume my quest.
And at length when i came out close to a
ruined wood and water station on the edge
of the track, 1 knew that 1 was full half
a mile below the White Blackbird.
And in the distance 1 heard the long,
shrill shriek of the midnight train.
Borne oue else had heard it, too, for as 1
stood thus, t saw, faintly visible through
the blindiug snow, u shadowy figure issue
from the ruiucd shed and come out upon
the track, looking with a bewildered, un
certain air, up aud down—the form of
Polly, my wife, with the iittle baby in
her arms!
1 hurried down to her as fast as the rap
idly increasing snow drifts would let her
but it was only just in time to drag her
from the place of peril, and stand, breath
lessly holding her back, while the fiery,
eyed monster of steam swept by witli a
rush and a rattle that neatly tool away
my Oreutli.
"Polly!,' 1 cried. "Poly! -speak tome!"
She turned her wandering gaze toward
me, with her vague eyes that seemed
scarcely to recognize me.
"Have you seen my husband?', said she;
"one Jacob Coltcrel, brakcinan on the
local express?"
"Polly! little woman! don't you know
me?" I gasped.
"And 1 thought, perhaps," she added,
vacantly, "you might have met hi ill. It's
very cold here, and—aud— '
And then site fainted iu mv arn s.
The long, long brain fever that follow
ed was a sort of death. There was a time
when they told me she would never know
me again, but, thank God, she did. She
recovered at last. And since that night
1 never had lasted a drop of liquor, and,
please heaven, 1 never will again. The
baby, bless its dear little heart, wasn't
iiarmed at all. It lay snug and warm on
its mother's breast. But if I hadn't hap
pened to be close by them at that instant,
the night express would have ground them
into powder.
And the while stripe came iuto my hair
upon the night of that fearful suow storm.
That's how it happened, sir.
Not My Fault.
"No, I am not one of the old veterans
of the war," lie slowly replied to the in
quiry, "but it is not my fault. I wanted
to lx there, but something always held
me back."
"That was too bad."
"Yea, it was. When the war broke
out I offered to go, but I was iu jail on
a six uiom* -o-ijuvi and'they wouldn't
mji,. a**?. I was innocent, of course, out
as I was in jail the recruiting officer hud
had to refuse me. Lands ! but how I
did ache to get down at the front and
wade iu gore !"
"And when you got out of jail ?"
"Yes, I got out, but just then my
mother died. I was on my way to enlist
when she died, and of course that altered
my plans. No one knows how badly I
wanted to be down there ami wade
around in blood and glory."
"Well, you didn't have to mourn all
through the war did you ?"
"Oh, no. Bless your soul, but I only
mourned for thirty days, and then I
started out to enlist in the artillery. I
was just about to write down my name
when a constable arrested me for breach
of promise, and it was four months be
fore I got through with the suit. Ah !
sir, but if you only knew how I suffered
at being held back when others were
winning glory on the field of carnage
you would pity mc !"
"But the suit was finally decided?"
"Yes, finally, and within an hour after
the jury brought in a verdict I started
for Toledo to enlist in the cavalry."
And you enlisted ?"
Almost. I was being examined by the
doctor when I got a dispatch that the
old man had tumbled into the well, and
of course I had to go home. I had to go
home. I hadn't got the undertaker paid
before lightning struck the barn. Then
gome one set fire to the cheese factory u
aud soon after that I had three ribs
broken and was laid up for a year. When
I finally did get around to enlist the
doctor rejected me because I was color
blind, near-sighted, lame and deaf. I
tell you, sir, when I think of the glory
lost, and the gore I didn't shed it breaks
me right down and I don't even care for
soda water. Hear the band! See the
old vets and the exprisoners 1 Hang my
hat, but why wasn't I born with legs long
enough to kick myself over iuto Canada!"
A Ball-Headed Heathen.
They were walking on the avenue in
Detroit the other evening when it was so
very warm, arrayed in their summer
clothes. In the distance shone the light
of an ice cream saloon, merry inside with
the jingle of spoons and dishes.
"Oh ! Augustus, it is so warm."
"So it is, pet."
"Don't you think, dear, that we could
find a cooler place than on the street?"
"Perhaps we'd better go in the park
and get a drink of water.
"I'd scream first."
• 'Why would you scream, love ?"
"Oh! because —because, oh! look,
Qua, tllOKo'o Ml mo® —— -—— —l— "
"I read, Angelique, darling, in the
paper, that ice cream contained the germ
of smallspox. That's the reason I didn't
ask you to have some. Let's go and get
some soda water."
When Angelique got home she scream
ed to ma that she'd "never go out with
that stingy, old, bald-headed heathen
again,'' *_
Johiifton'a Boy.
Johnson was a boy. There is nothing
peculiarly startling iu this asHertiou, but
there is something peculiarly startling (
in that boy. His name is George and ,
every time George makes a move the
whole town gets tip and wlioops itself
and goes out on a target excursion after
George.
George has shaved more cats with his
father's clipping machine, liuh broken
more windows, knows more about water
melon patches, catches more salted fish,
sends more strangers on imaginary er
rands, and alxmnds in more pure eus
seduosH than any urchin of his size,
weight, age, length of feet in all Closter.
When the neighlxirs look at their brix
keu window or hunt around for things
that George's mischievous propensities
have induced him to hide, they feel like
'hiding' him, and remark 'that Johnson
must have been devilesli fond of cliildren
to raise that boy.'
Johnson isn't the only man that raised
that boy. He lias 1HM?II raised by nearly
every citizen from the Hackeiisack to the
Hudson.
The other day a poor old decrpit native
drove into town. He drove a crowbait
horse, and a wagon us old and stale as
last year's pie.
The native drew up in front of the
hotel,let himself down out of the wagon,
and went iu to get a a 'drap uv apple
jack.'
He had just loaded the glass up to the
French roof when the train came along.
When the whistle shrieked the horse
summoned all its latent strength, and by
an almost superhuman effort pricked up
its ears. Then it started off.
The native dropped the contents of
the glass —down his throat, and started
after the animal. The horse was alxmt
one hundred yards ahead when he passed
Johnson's stable. George took in the
situation at a glance. He rushed out,
yelled 'whoa,' started after the animal,
changed lis miud, turned around and
caught tin* < Id man.
'Lemme go,' yelled the native, 'I want
to ketch that horse.'
George said, 'Oh,' let the man go, and
started after the horse again.
Then he again changed his mind,came
back and caught the citizen again, re.
marking ;
"By Jimmy, I can't stand idle an' see
this thing going on. I must ketch sum
think, I'll hold you,' and he did.
At the junction is a drug store. The
horse didn't know which road to take,
SJld ch<X>sill2 .a hftPUV medium went
through the window.
Johnson says that the boy must save
up and pay for damages. We think he
will, for we saw him playing pool recent
ly, and every time he won a game he
said :
'There'sanother round saved.'
Land Without an Owner.
Out in Butler county, Pa., two miles
from Bakerstown, lies seventy acres of
land for which no owner can be found.
Forty-five years ago, in 18136, Richard
Gibson and bis wife liouglit the languid
there they lived until death claimed
them. Those days, from all accounts
were not days of peace and happiness.
Of worldly goods they had enough and
to spare, but Ixith were of a taciturn
disposition, gruff and unsociable. Their
neighlxirs shunned them, and isolated
from the world Ihey lived and quarreled
until 1870, when Richard Gibson laid
down the burden and passed across the
dark river. After his death Mrs Gibson
shut herself up more closely than ever.
Alone in the farm-house she managed
to exist until the people in the vicinity
came to look upon it as the most natural
thing in the world. Finally, a time
came in March, 1880, when she was
missed. No one had seen her for several
days and the house was forced. Lying
on the floor they found Mrs. Gibson
suffering from a fit. She never rallied,
but died in two days. The Gibsons hail
no children, no known relative, no
friends. The people who had closed
Mrs. Gibson's eyes iu death searched
the house. About her clothing and in
various nooks aud crevices $758 were
found, but no papers which would reveal
who she and lier husband were. The
money was turned into the Butler
county courts, and two men named
Sliepard and Ferguson were appointed
administrators. Naturally each went to
his attorney for instruction, and each
attorney immediately notified the Attor
ney General of the State that ail estate
without heirs was lying in Butler
county.
A search was instituted to discover
the past history of the deceased. It was
found that in 1826 he had owned a sad
dlery shop in Leeds, England, before he
came to the United States. In 1840 a
brother had lived with him in Butler
county, got in debt to the amount of
three hundred pounds sterling, and left,
going down the river, from which time
nothing has been heard of him. About
the same time Gibson had a brother-in
law, named Gill, in that city. He was
engaged in the livery business, the firm's
name being Gill & Whiteley, but no
VlOVd Gftli l_f-ur ' 1,1 *" "
ners. So the case stands. The property
is worth SIOO an acre, and if at the end
of seven years no heirs come forward, it
goes to the State. One-fifth of its value
will be the reward of the person who
first informed the Attorney General that
the property had no claimant, and the
question is which of the lawyers got his
work la first.
The Prehistoric American.
The high bluffs and banks of the Mis
sissippi River near Chicago are dotted
with Indian mounds, and large numbers
of these wonderful sepulchres of the pre
historic age have been thoroughly ex
plored, yet nothing has been discovered
by which the scientist can, with any
degree of certainty, arrive at the date of
their erection or the history of the mys
terious people who engaged in their
structure. These mounds are symme
trically built, and range from three to
six feet in height and from eight to six
teen ieet in breadth at the base. Your
correspondent has assisted in exploring
a dozen or more mounds in this neigh
borhood, and in almost every instance a
pit, parallelogram in shape, has been
found, dug evidently about two and a
half feet below the original surface of
the ground, about six feet long, and
four feet wide, with the bottom and sides
of hard baked clay. These pits are filled
with human bones, representing al
ages, buried in most cases in a sitting
posture against the sides with legs ex
tending to the centre. Over these bones
are found layers of anhydrous earth of
dark color, hard from pressure, but
which easily crumbled into fine powder.
Al>ove this is a stratum of hard baked
clay or cement, oh the top of wliich is
found a layer of ashes mingled with
burnt shells and liones. In several in
stances the first thing struck after re
moving the earth from the tope of the
mounds were flat pieces of limestone
joined together as tightly as though
fitt<*d by nature. In one mound un
earthed on what is called the Portage, a
short distance west of Chicago, were
found "bones indicating a race of gigan
tic stature. One immense skull was se
cured which measured fifteen inches
from the occipital to the frontal bone.
The largest mound in the Portage group
which was explored was found to be
literally filled with bones, and sixteen
skulls, all in a good state of preserva
tion, were removed from the mess. In
every one was a deep indentation on the
left side, a little above and behind the
orifice of the ear, as though crushed in
with a blunt instrument. Relics were
found in the shape of copper bodkins,
cliisels and wedges, all finely wrought ;
axes, arrows and spear heads, made of a
species of flint not found in this region ;
a singular and finely finished pear-shaped
implement of stone, probably used for
skinning animals ; great numbers of the
large teeth of some carnivorous animal,
supposed to be the bear ; in some in
stance*, large pearls, some of exquisite
lustre, perforated to be strung, and a
piece of pottery about twelve inches in
height, urn shaped, round on the bottom
and ornamented.
On top of one of the most romantic
bluffs in the Upper Mississippi country,
about eight miles from Chicago, over
looking what is called the Sand Prairie,
are no less than 100 prehistoric mounds,
uniform in size, and ranged in rows of
from eight to ten. They are located
near the edge of the bluff", and one large
mound stands like a sentinel on the very
point of the eminence. Behind this,
and about twenty feet away is a deep
ditch, resembling somewhat the western
sink hole, yet scooped out, undoubtedly,
by the same mysterious hands which
reared the mounds adjacent. Your cor
respondent assisted in opening a half
dozen of these mounds, which contained
nothing but flat stones, with bones un
derneath.
In the township of West Galena, on
the Nickol farm, are to be found lines of
fortifications, built evidently for pur
loses of defence. They extend along
the brow of a high elevation, skirting
the north side of it completely. Behind
these embankments or fortifications is a
fine level conntry. A short distance to
the rear and at the middle of the outer
line of the works is a mound in the
shape of a house, and at the northwest
extremity of the same line, and about an
equal distance behind it, is another
mound in the shape of a reptile.
The fortifications are about 2 feet in
height, about 8 feet wide at the base,
and fully 30 feet long. One or two of
them have been thoroughly explored,
but nothing has been found, not even
bones.
Eight Times Their Weight in Gold.
The cut-flower business, another phase
of horticulture, is perhaps greater in the
United States than in any other part of
the world. Certainly the use of cut
flowers in New York for bouquets, bas
kets, and other designs, is far greater
than in either London or Paris, and the
taste shown in their arrangement here is
vastly superior. It is estimated that
three million of dollars were paid for cut
flowers in "New York in 1880, one-third
of which was for rose buds. Immense
glass structures are erected in the sub
urbs for the special purpose of growing
cut flowers to supply the bouquet
makers of the city. Not less than twen
ty acres of glass surface i s devoted to
the purpose of forcing roses alone, dur
ing the winter months. At some sea
sons the prices paid for these forced rose
buds are perfectly astounding. One
grower, of Madison, N. J., took into
New York three hundred buds of the
crimson rose known as " General Jac
' wholesale, 1 three hundred
dollars, and which, nc doubt, were re
tailed at a dollar and fifty cents to two
dollars each. A flower dealer in Four
teenth street, a few days before Christ
mas, received the only four of this same
variety of rose that were offered in the
citv and found a customer for them at
sixty dollars, or fifteen dollars apiece, or
eight times the value of their weight iq
gold.
NO. 3!.