THE MILLHEIM JOURNAL,
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY BY
Deininger & Bumiller.
Office in the New Journal Building,
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UNDER THE SHADOWS.
I said: God never meant
Our Uvea should be nil shadows:
The blessed sunshine, sent
To wake the birds, and open wide the eyes
Of sluinberiuc blossoms, in a Rind surprise,
Is but a type of what our lives should '>e.
lx>! nil things have their way—
Ttieii time of happy mirth;
See. when the sun s warm ray,
Falls gently on each bud, and twig and leaf,
How all the garden smiles and underneath
Each shrub how myriad insects play!
No, life cannot be life,
Without some hope or joy,
Wtth the sweet passion rife
Of love, blest sunshine of tle neart:
It else were mere existence, with no part
In all that makes a life worth living.
1 turned, and at my feet
I saw the gardener pile,
With careful hand and neat.
The mould, thu9 in a constant shade to keep
A p'ant, that ever strlrtii# seem .'d to creep
Up to the light, that ever was denied.
And when I questioned why
The discipline so rude.
The gardener made reply:
"This training only answers even - need:
Without tnis culture it were poor indeed—
A worthless wood but cumberlug the ground.
But now it grows so white.
So pure, unstained, undlmmed,
It needeth not the light;
Under the shadows it Is fair and sweet.
Full of rare virtues, and a plant most meet
For use of m&u; and oniy thus could be."
And such la life! I thought:
So God indeed hath meant;
And thus His hand hath wrought.
Under the shadows must some lives be sient:
This their true ueed:and He the pain hath seut
By which they grow all white souled up to Him
LIFE'S STRUGGLE.
Do you wish to be successful
In the struggle of your life?
Then press forward, seeking ever,
The heaviest of the strife.
If the battle be a fierce one.
Fight it with emlurence, vim.
The end is nearer than you think,
And in It you will win.
If the battle thus, with courage,
The barriers will fall.
And you'll And away to conquer
Be the forces great or small.
Let the dictates of your conscience
Guard and guide you in the fray.
And with duty as your watchword,
You will never go astray.
Strive onward, then, and upward.
Remember, lead the van:
For as lire proves ihe metal.
So do trials prove the man.
A BLACK HERO.
"Tink you can miud de cabin while
Ise g*.ne ter cherch, Abram ?"
"Tink I can, mammy."
"Yer will be all 'lone I"
"I haint 'feared. Ain't I big nuf ?"
This with some pride.
"Dat you are, I declare I" answered
Chloe Simons,as she bent low and kiss
ed the great mouth of her only child
good-by. Her last words upon closing
the door and bearing the click of the
latch were, "Min' you, chile, don' go
near de lamp, 'cause yer mout be upset
in it 'fore youse am 'ware ob de fac'
and brun yo'sclf ter dust finer 'an eny
thing !"
"All right, mammy, I'll take care !"
came the reply through the cracks in
the cabin door from Abram.
Abram had been left alone to take
care of the cabin, while mammy, as
such she was known, went to "camp
meetin' to hear ol' Parson Coldham 'lu
cidate plain fac's on 'eligion," as mam
my herself should have said were she
in a pleasant mood and bad plenty of
time to spare. She always tried to be
eloquent in conversation with her only
heir, Abram. She thought the world
of her little Jack-in-the-box, whose
bead resembled a gutta-percha ball.
She thought him better "den edy ob de
white trash eben ef he war a brack
priccanniuy," she was often heard to
mutter when the boys of the village
would shriek, "Nigger, nigger never
die I" at Abram, whose difiant reply
would invariably be, "Will die ! hab
jist much right to die as you have,bah!
bah !"
Although the boys ever made fun of
him they could not but admire the bra
very in the little fellow. That he was
brave will be admitted before we reach
the sequel of our story.
Poor little ebony fellow ! it cost him
his life to show it, though.
After mammy had left the cabin,and
Abram saw that the door had been se
eurely fastened from the ioside, he ap
proached the lamp, which was burning,
not very brightly, it must be ackwowl
edged, on the table in the corner of the
low-roofed room, and after contempla
ting it a few moments,said with a wise
shake of his little skull, —
"Dere haint much light ter dat lamp,
I'm sure ! 'Pears ter mc as if it mout
be made to burn largerer, 'cause it am
not burning wid full steam, dat am a
fac.' But as mammy tol' me not ter
touch de lamp, how in de woild can I
grab near it 'nuf ter wind up de short
ness ob de week dat am almos' brumng
out V Let me see," he soliloquized
while a puzzled expression sat on his
countenance, "if dun' wiud that lamp
up pooty soon it am gwine ter go out,
and dis yer chile will hab ter sit up for
mammy in de dark, and I don' tink dat
I'd like dat—no, don' tink I would 1
So I guess I'll wind up de shortness,
and den de room will hab more light
and I won' feel so lonesome cause—
Oh, golly ! what was dat ?" questioned
be in frightened tones, as the noise of
somebody trying to force the window
open fell with startling distinctness on
bis ears.
DEININGER & BUMILLER, Eiitors and Proprietors.
VOL. 58.
Visions of ghosts, hobgoblins and gi
ant demons with terrible horns ffished
across his mind. To him they seemed
starting from the four corners of the
room in all their ghost lineas to destroy
him with their devilishness.
How the little fellow trembled !
Several days before, tho boys of the
village met in Squire Died grain's old
barn and listened with breathless inter
est to the tales of blood and thunder
read by the squire's eldest son Jake,
from a firy dime novel. Abratu was a
mong the number, and was one of the
most interested in the altogether-im
probable stories. He had almost frigh
tened old Mammy Simmons out "ob
her clo's." so tho good old lady said,
with his imitative war dmces at all
hours of the day. Mammy used to
wonder where the chickens were disap
pearing to lat ly ; but the mystery was
made only too plain one tiny when A
bram, covered from head to foot with
feathers, entered the room with a terri
ble noise lesembliag a steam fog whis
tle, flourishing a bloody hatchet and a
blood-freezing looking bowie knife al
most as big as the boy himself. lie of
ten wished to meet "wid somo blood
drinkin' injun dat took real scalps ;"
he wished to annihilate some great
tlendish buccaneer or renegade. It
seemed, too, now, that lie was to have
his wishes consummated.
Standing, almost breathless, near the
the lamp, which had burnt very low,
Abram listened trembling to the crack
a-creak of the window, which was
being slowly opened fiom the outside.
Suddenly a terrible crash of glass
sounded with awful distinctness
through the room, shattered to the
floor, torn from its slender fastenings
by some ruthless hand without. Then
a shaggy head with beard-covered face
lit with bloodshot eyes glared ominous
ly through the aperture,and a voice that
appeared to come from the searching
eyes said in a husky tone :
"All's O. K., Bill ! Old 'oman's
out, and not a souPs notne but the lit
tle nigger ; and we'll soon finish him if
he squeals ! As you be lighter than
me, yer'll 'aye ter go in through this
winder and open the door for me.
llurry up, Bill, 'fore the little nig
starts ter yell his lungs out. There
that's it ! Now, as yer in, hurry up
and break open the door !"
"Yer needn't make such a fuss a
bout it !" said the man addressed as
Bill, as he approaehed and opened the
door. As it swung open on its hinges
it admitted the owner of the 9haggy
head. Quickly closing and locking the
door again, he approached the trem
bling boy and commanded in a terrible
voice,—
"Git us snmthing to eat, nigger, or
I'll throttle yer, do yer hear ? If yer
does, why don't yer go and do it,
hey ?"
The poor boy, trembling from head
to foot, could not do otherwise than o
bev, and went to tiie cupboard and
brought out a loaf of bread, together
with some mnstard and ham, and de
posited them upon the tabl<\
"Come, why don't yer eat, Bill ?"
"If this ain't eatin' what yer call it,
Jerry ?" Bill replied, as he commenc
ed to devour a huge slice of ham and
bread thickly covered with mustard.
"Call it hoggishness, hey ? Ila, ha,
ha 1" laughed the worthy Jerry, draw
ing a ilask of whiskey out of his pocket
and holding it up to the lamp.
After finishing the contents of the
bottle, the two men ate the rest of
their ill-gotten lunch in silence.
Poor Abram stood near by hardly
daring to breathe, watching them like
wolves devour the bread and ham.
"Good ting mammy ain't here,'cause
dese two bloodthirsty willians would
eat her up 'fore she'd hab time ter
brease !" he thought.
"Nigger, come here!" commanded
Jerry, with a terribie frown on his
face.
Abram,with one finger in his mouth,
slowly came toward the man, who
made a clutch at him and sent him
spinning around like a top. Striking
the poor boy a cruel bio N on one side
of his head, the fellow said :
"Nigger, where' 3 yer old man an'
old 'omau V Why dou't ver answer V
Do yer want tome more ?"
"My firder are de-de-dead, and my
—my—mudder am out—out ter camp
me-meetin'," came the reply in sobs.
"So the old man's kicked the bucket
hey ? Old 'oman's out ter nigger's
campraeetin', too ; Bill, my boy, we re
in luck l Just think of it, not a nig
ger in sight dut this little imp-slu-t
up, ser fool ! do yer want ter bring a
mob down on us ? Shet up, I say, or
I'll cut yer throat—stop, do yer hear
me ? Yer will 'ave it, will yer ? Take
that and that yer—"
"Stop, you fool, Jerry ! We've got
lots of work on hand ter night besides
killing this kid ; let up, will yer ?"
"That's so ; but I guess I have set -
tied him a'ready."
It was true. The poor boy lay half
\ stunned and bleeding in a corner of the
MILLHEIM, PA., THURSDAY, JANUARY 31.. 1884.
room.
"We'll have ter hurry up an' git ;
somebody might have heard the boy
cry for help. It's almost time for the
passenger train ter come in sight, eny
way.''
At the words passenger train, Abram
although half stunned, raised himself
upon one elbow and listened to the con
versation of the two men with beating
heart and eager ears.
"These men will rob the train, per
haps throw it from tho track,and mur
der all the passengers ; and must I, al
though a boy, lie here like a dog, when
perhaps I could steal out unseen and
giye the alarm ? No ! I will try to
save the train even if I must die for
it !" the brave little fellow thought.
"Yer right ; it's almost time for us
to be at work, or we'll miss the train
ter night again. What'U we do with
the little nigger ?"
Turning suddenly as he spoke, he
caught sight of Abram in the attitude
of listening.
"Well, I'll be durned if the little
wretch ain't alive and kicking, and lis
tening ter every word as we h is been
talking ! It would be mighty danger
ous ter let 'im live ; we'll 'ave ter kill
'iiu or take him wid us. Say, paid,
what'll we do wid him ?"
"Take him wid us ; he can carry the
lamp and hold it for us while we fix the
track, and if he attempts ter squeal
then we'll have ter kill 'im."
"By Jove, that's si ! I didn't think
of that. Come here you little imp, 1
wants yer ! Move as if yer had some
life, or I'll throw this chair at yer !"
said the villain Jerry, as he poised u
stool threatingly in the air.
Abram, with his head almost burst
ing, and his body painiug him in every
joint from the injuries received from
the wretches,turned with a half-smoth
ered cry of-pain rose to his feet, and
slowly limped toward the fellow. His
mii.d was made UD to make an attempt
to give the alarm or perish in attempt
ing it. "What did it matter if there
were one little nigger legs in the
world ? Nobody but good old mam
my would miss—much less mourn for
him," his thoughts ran.
Alas, too true ! Nobody loved him
as much as mammy did, and was not
mammy his mother ?
Ah, this God-like mother love that
binds mother to child and child to
mother.
Seizing the lamp in one hand Jerry
led the way to the door, followed by
Bill pulling the boy after him. The
light was blown out, and the party
made for the canyon trestlewoiks a
shott way off. Soon reaching the de
sired spot, Jerry relit the lamp and mo
tioned to the terrified lad to take it in
his hands and hold it so the twain
could get the benefit of tho light to
work by. Abram took the light ir. his
trembling hands and held it in the po
sition the man suggested. As the light
was very dim, Bill bade the boy take
his hat and use it for a reflector ; tlnn
the men proceeded to displace the rails
so that the coming train would jump
the trick and fall with its human
freight to the canyon below, there to
be dashed to pieces against the rocks
of the ravine.
While the men were conversing in a
low tone and working at the rails the
low rumble of the approaching train
was heard. The men by this time had
torn away a few ties and had placed
them on one side of the track. Jerry
was in the act of holding up one side
of the loosed track, using a rail as a le
ver, and Bill had crawled beneath to
block that portion so as to raise it to a
proper angle, when the train was seen
swinging around the curve. Abram
saw au opportunity and immediately
proceeded to take advantage of it turn
ing the wick of the lamp to its full
height and rushing with hsadlongspeed
toward the train.
Jerry at once perceived the boy's de
sign, aud in the excitement of the mo
ment forgot about the presence of Bill
b inealh the held up track,letgo his hcl3,
permitting the track to fall back into
its original position,pinning that indi
vidual to the earth beneath its em
brace. Nor did he hear the smothered
cry for help from his friend as he ran
from the spot in hot pursuit of Abram.
It seemed as if terror had lent him
wings, for he was running with all his
might, andewas some distance ahead of
Jerry*
It did not take the man long to catch
up with hiin .however,, ar.dthen a ter
rible struggle took place for the posess
ion of the lamp.
Catching the boy by the throat, Jerry
shook him line a rat.and yet the brave
child held on to the lamp. Finding his
strength leaving him, and realizing
that the lamp would be torn from his
gra3p, the boy threw it in the air, and
it fell to the earth, exploding, setting
fire to the contents, and the ground
was covered with burning oil.
The toot of the whistle was now
heard to signal down brakes, and fear-
A PAPER FOR THE HOME CIRCLE
ful lest Ihe boy should escape, Jeriy
drew a revolver and fired at him, and
the boy fell to the ground,shot through
the hack.
Just then a fearful cry fm help from
Rill reached his eats, and turning
quickly he rushed toward the wretched
man held piisomr by the track, a few
feet in advance of the slackening
train. Like a demon he llew at the
rails to release his friend, but before
he could get him free the train swept
past, and, striking him,sent him bleed
ing and unconscious to one side of
the track. Alahough several ties were
loose the rails still kept their position,
and permitted it to pass over without
any terrible accident following.
Lanterns were procured, and soon
the passengers, led l.y the conductor,
were searching for the train wreckers.
In a short while poor Abram was found
where he had fallen,unconscious. The
bleeding form of tho man Jerry was
found a shoit way off, on one 9ide of
the track, where he had been thrown
by the locomotive, nnd n sickening
sight was presented to the eyes of the
searchers when the body of Bill, who
had been caught by the rail and held to
his doom was discovered. The remains
were taktu aboard the cars, together
with the manacled form of the wound
ed Jerry, and Abram, bleeding, and
alas ! dying.
The train at once proceeded on its
way, and soon drew into the village.
Tenderly bearing the wounded boy
from the cars, the brakesman bore him
to the waiting-room of the *ilepot. A
messenger was dispatched for Dr. Davis,
the village physician. Not knowing
the wounded boy, nobody could sum
mon his poor mother; but when the
wise old doctor arrived heat once recog
nized Abram, and begged that some
one volunteer his services to go for
Mammy Simons.
Abraham was recovering conscious
ness when his mother arrived, and ai>-
parently suffering little pain, murmur
ed as he slowly oi>ened his eyes,—
"Mammy! mammy! don't blame me—
/could—not help it—dey made me go
wid 'era. Am / gwiue ter dee? Oh,
mammy look ober darl I see duddv!
Don't yo' see him? Daddy! daddy! take
poor Abram, cause I— I—"
Speech failed the poorooy, and lie
fell bacK on his pillow exhausted. Mam
my would not be comforted, but catch
ins the still form to her heart, kept
shrieking,—
''Sonny,sonny,speak! Don't yo' know
yer mammy? My boy—my boy! Why
don't yo' open yer eyes? Why don't yo*
speak ter yer poor old mammy? Oh,
God! my boy is dead."
it ws true, l'oor little Abram was
dead.
Ia the little village graveyard a com
mon wooden headstone marks the spot
where Abram sleeps, and is simply in
scribed*—
"Abram Simons, a little colored boy
who lost bis life in saving the lives of
others. 'Suffer the little children to
come unto me.' Rest in peace,"
EFFECT OF NIGHT WORK.
'They are a queer lot, suro's you
live,' remarked the conductor of one of
the "owl cars" to a reporter the other
day, in a conversation about the "toil
ers of the night," who each morning
use this mode of conveyance to their
homes. The conductor was a large,
well-built man, whose florid complex
ion and robust appearance seemed to
indicate that he fattened upon the no
xious air of the night, which makes
pale and paltd the cheeks of so many
of those who labor through its long
hours. He was something of a phil
osopher, too, and for the last five or
six years he has regularly "punched
in the presence of the passengaire,"
showing the same nonchalance that
characterized his ten years' service he
fore the adoption of the "bell punch,"
when he collected the fares and turned
them over to the company, even to the
last penny.
•Yes, sir, my passengers are a queer
lot,' he repeated. 'You see they are
always kicking, and never appear to
bo happy about anything. Now, I ac
count for it this way. They work all
night, and get on a car to go home in
the morning, not with the satisfaction
of knowing they've got an hour or
two of enjoyment before them, such as
day workers have, because everybody
else is in bed, and they have to go to
bed too. Then as soon as they get up
they l>egin to think about their work
for the night, 'cause everybody else is
at work, and there ain't any one left
about the boarding houses for' em to
talk to.'
'Tell me something about these
'kickers', as you call them,'said there
porter.
'Well, you see, I get all kinds of fel
lows aboard. There's the editors, re
porters, and printers from the, big dai-
Iv pa) NTH, the telegraph operators, the
gamblers, the policemen, musicians
who have been playing for little danc
es, and the like. All of theiu eoine a
loug, ami all of them kick.'
'Do the uditors kiek' much?'
'Not so much us some of the rest,
hut they talk about polities and tariff
reforms, and sometimes get excited in
expressing themselves, but they're
harmless.'
AVhv harmless V
'Oh, they don't fight any ; they on
ly abuse each other in their papers,
and take it Imek when they go too far.'
'AVhot makes the reporters kiek V
'I only get a few of them, and they
seem to be the ones that hang around
the police stations and write up the
murders and suicides; and sometimes
you'd think they had waded through
gore up to their knees to hear 'em
talk about some crazy man who want
ed to get out of the world, and pcr
hnps, endeavor to have somebody keep
him company on his trip. The report
ers each describe the affair in their
own way, and then compare notes nnd
kick' 'cause they wasn't suited exactly
in the arrangement of affairs by the
fellow who furnished the news item.
Either he waited too long for them to
write as many columns for the morn
ing paper as they would like, or else
he went to some out of the way plaeo
where thev had trouble to find him.'
'And your printers. What do they
kiek about V
'Their kicking is mostly Greek to
me. They get together in little knots
and talk about 'fat and lean,' just as
though they worked in a packing
house among the hames nnd sides.
Then the 'takes' whatever it is, are too
in brevier, or minion, or nonpareil, or
agate, which I have found out means
types of different sizes. They talk a
bout 'the ad. man' and the 'bonuses,'
nnd seem to regard that follow as a
monster into whose insatiate maw ev
erything good falls, while to them on-
Iv comes the crumbs from his table.'
'The telegraph operators discuss
their grievances, I suppose, as well as
the rest V
'A"es; they are generally worked up
about crossed wires, electrical disturb
ances, switches out of order, and the
number of words they wire. All of
them act as if they'd done two men's
work and were mad about it. Then
the amount of knowledge the beardless
youths have about the effect of atmos
pheric conditions on the telegraphic
business, judging from their talk,
would a&tonish you.'
'What do the policemen find to make
life black, and induce them to kick '!'
'Everything; it's either too wet or
too dry, too cool or too hot; too many
drunken men on their beats, or such a
surfeit of quietude that they fear fhey
will be bounced for not running in
somebody. If none of these things
can be brought forward, there's the a
mount of drinks and cigars from the
various saloon keepers and tin 1 sports
and if these are not up to the standard
and sufficient in quantity, there's a
first-class subject for a kick. These
guardians of the peace have lots of
things come their way that nobody
thinks of. you see. The gamblers too,
though usually the most happy go
iucky individuals t6 be found any
where, arc willing to take any sort ot
risk on the turn of a card, have their
moments of glumness, and kick to
each other in low, soft tunes about 1)C
--ing 'whipsawed,' and the luck some
happy devotee of the green cloth has
had during the night's play in 'calling
the turn,' thus depleting the bank's
exchequer to such an extent as to make
the bankers unhappy.'
'Well, you still have the musicians.
What is it that disturbs them ?'
'They have been forced to play too
long for the money paid; the refresh
ments have not been good enough, or
the quantity of wine disbursed has
been entirely too limited to satisfy
their cravings.'
'Then you are convinced that night
work makes chronic grumblers of men?
'lt does, unquestionably, and it's
time for the reformer to rise and be
gin a crusade against night work in
general, because it's demoralizing to
heart and soul,' said the 'owl car' con
ductor, though his own appearance be
lied every word he said in that par
ticular.
Terms, SI.OO per Year, in Advance.
Somo Intoreßtinsr Facta about Coins
Editor Daiky Democrat ;
As there Ims l>cen nittcli discussion n
botit coins and paper currency of late
in the newsnnpers .allow me to explain a
few facts which have eoine under my
own observation.
Almost every nation and tribe, as
well as every epoch, has its peculiar
currency. Not only gold, silver, cop
per, brass, iron and lead or paper, but
glass, shells, beads, barks, stones, soap,
bits of various colored cloth and num
erous other articles have teen used to
represent money. The Burmeese, Ka
rens, and Shaus have uncoined money,
lead and silver in bullion lieing the or
dinary tender in trade. Weight and
purity are, of course, the standards of
value and in testing these the natives
are experts for a small sum corories or
small shells are used the same as our
cents here. Salt was, for a long time
the ordinary money of the Abyssiand,
aud fish is still the legal tender of Ire
land. Corories are used amongst the
natives a great deal in Africa, while in
i their trails with foreigners gold dust
and ivory are given in lieu of coined
money. So wampum which was the
ordinary currency of our American In
dians in the days of their freedom, has
been superceded by the barter of furs
for articles they obtain ftotn their civi
lized neighbors. In the interior parts
of northern China slips of the bark of
the mulberry tree, bearing the impor
tant stamp, to denote their value have
long been used as we use our bank
notes, the legal yalue being just what
appears on the face Marco Parlo found
them in his time and they still are used.
A .stamped leather currency Ims ob
tained among many nations, beginning
with the caithaginians; and historians
tell us of leather coins, with a silver
nail in the centre, that were usedby
France by King John, the Good, in IG
-30. In some small villages of Scotland
in olden the laborers carried
nails in their pockets to buy ale, beer,
bread, etc., just as the native Austral
ian divests himself of his string of
beads for the purchase of some coveted
luxury. A Scotch misssonary found
bits of read flannel used in some of the
island in the South Pacific, the only
money in circulation there. Many na
tions have selected for their currency
some product of their own country,
that was both abundant and high priced.
Thus, Sicily, Italy, having plenty of
copper, their first coinage was of that
metal. And for the same reason in
i
Asia Minor gold coins were the earliest
kind issued. Ilerodotns records that
the Lydians were the first people known
to introduce gold and silver coins, in
circulation 90(1 years B. C. Gold was
first coined by the Romans iu the year
B. C. 288: silver, B.C. 281. In some
oriental cities no bank notes are used.
There are coins on opaque glass, the
stamp on the same representing the val
ue of it. Space does not permit me to
dwell on our own American coins, on
which much might be written of their
value, etc.
Bex BiiOCn.
Lock Ilaven Jan. 12, ISB3.
Talking About "Butter."
At a party, the hostess said lias
lily to a guest, 'I want you to en
tertain Mr.Blank a little. He looks
boa red to death. I will introduce
him, and you must tiy and amuse
him. You know his strong point is
butter, on which he has written a
book. I wouldn't for the world,
have him remain a moment here
unanuised'He becomes so sarcastic
when out of temper.* .The lady
guest graciously undertook the task
of entertaining the man, inwardly
wondering that he should be so
much interested in butter—of which
she knew very little when his face
indicated a mind given to much pro
found thought. However, with but
ter in view,she began on the weath
er gradually she got to the country,
then on to i. farm, from that to cows
and at last to butter. The man
seemed more bored than ever, the
word produced no effect, aud he left
her somewhat abruptly, and soon
withdrew from the house. 'I did my
best,' she explained to the hostess.
'I went to much trouble to prove
that I was deeply interested in but
ter,but it was all in vain.' 'Butter'"
exclaimed the hostess. 'What pos
sessed you to com verso with that
man, of all men, on butter? I told
you he had written a volume on Bud
dha and J knew how deeply you, too
were interested in the same sub
jut.'And they all said in chorus,
'Gracious!'
AN Irish lad complained of the harsh
treatment received from his father.
"He treats me," said he, mournfully,
"as if I was his son by another father
and mother."
NO. 5.
NEWS PAPERLAWB.
If subscribers order the discotitimutt 100 of
newspapers. the lwllshers way couMuoe to
wnd fhem until all arrearage* are paid.
If subscrilers refuse or n(fleet iotakeffelr
newspapers from the office to whleh they areient
they are liehl responsible until they hare settled
the hills rti.fi ordered them discontinued.
If sut>scrilHrs move toother places without In*
formiui the publisher, and the newspaper* ar
sontto the former place, they arc resi>oii&iblc.
1 ! ill
ADVERTISING RATES.
1 wk. 1 mo. 3 mo*. 6 mo*. 1 yea
1 square *_* oo 11 00 ♦ .* 00 #6 00 $ 810
K " 7U 10 00 15 00 30 00 40 00
1 14 10 no 15 00 25 00 45 00 15(10
One Inch makes a square. Administrators'
and Executors' Notices #2.50. Transient adver
tisements ami locals 10 cents per line for first
Insertion and 5 cents per line for each addition
al Insertion.
- -
HUMOROUS.
BUGGY BIDING.
"Suppoae," said he, In accents olt
"A feline. J.jst like me,
Should axle little girl to wed—
What would the answer be ?"
The maiden drops her llqnid eye*—
Met Hindi** with blu*hos mingle—
"Why seek the bridle halter when
You may live on snrcingle ?'•
And then he s|>oke: "Oh! be my bride—
I ask you onee again;
You are the empress of my soul,
And there shall ever rein.
"I'll never tire of kindly deed*'
To win jour gentle heart;
And saddle be the shaft mat rends
Our happy live* apart f
Upon her cheeks the maiden felt
The mantling blushes glow;
She took him lor her faithful hub—
To share hh wheel or whoa.
A reporter who attended a banquet
concluded his discription with the can
did statement that 'it Is not distinctly
remembered oy anybody present who
made the last speech.'
'I am going to put my foot down,'
said the lady of the house in wrathful
tones.' What 'yer going to raise, corns?'
interrogated the man of the house from
behind his paper.
A rather frivolous lady told her hus
band not to go hunting, as, in her o
pinion, it was a cruel pieasure. 'How
can it be a cruel pleasure?' returned her
spouse. 4 I enjoy It and my dogs enjoy
it. I know you enjoy yourself when I
am absent; and even the quail enjoy it,
for I can't hit one on the wing to save
my life."
The feelings of a new member under
go a change after be is sworn in and
finds himself one of three hundred and
thirty-two on the fl<>or of the House.
A new member from the West said the
other day; 4 Why, at home I seem to be
somebody, aud I'm used to hearing the
question, 'Where is Blauk; what is
Blank doing?' But here nobody asks
about Blank or cares about him.'
'My dear,' said the aunt of a young
widow to her niece one day, 'is that
your husband's portrait on the wall?'
'Yes, auntie.' 'How blissful happyi
and what a heaven on earth must have
been his life below,' simpered the aunt.
'Ah, ves,'said tne widow, 'but we di
vided the thing up, so that when be be
came blissful in heaven I became happy
on earth.'
'O, pa! there's a big fight down on the
street, and one man is nearly killing
t!ie other!' 'Yes, my sou, I see them.'
'O, pa J what are those two big blue
spols up on the street two squares?'
The backs of two policemen, my son,'
'Well couldn't they come and stop the
fight, pa?' 'No.''Why, pa?' Because
they are going the other way, ray sou.'
•Butwhy do they have to go the other
way, pa?' 'Because, my son their beats
are so large.'
- —.
At a Postoffloe Window,
Of all public positions that of a post
master seems t® us to be the least en
viable. We have been annoyed by
book agents and commercial travellers,
solicitors of free puffs, ticket sellers,
and every other nuisance in the cata
logue; but for downright impudence
commend us to have the average vis
itor to the postofiice window. A ten
minute experience last week satisfied
us that our postmaster and his assis
tants should be made the heroes of a
Sunday school book.
Following are a few of the questions
and requests during the ten minntes;
'Please Mr. Ilohrbach, I came away
without mv key; give me papa's mail."
'ls there anything m our box? I atn
too small, I can't see in it.'
'ls there anything for me?' 'No."
4 Anything for Mrs. ?' 'No.'
'Anything for Mr. ?' 'No.'
'Anything for Miss ?'
P. M.: 'I have orders not to give you
Jier mail/
'Dear me! she needn't be so particu
lai; she never gets a letter anyhow!'
'I dropped a letter in the box with a
three-cent stamp on it; please give me
the penny change.'
' What time does the mail east close ?
• What time does it go west?'
'lf I deposit this letter now will it
go before morning?'
'Hocv.long will'it taae this letter to
reach its destination?'
'Will a three-cent stamp be good on
this letter, same as a two-cent stamp?'
•Is the postage reduced on papers?'
'I ordered some things by mail; do
j ? ou think they went to some other Sun
bury?'
'Will you please direct this postal? 1
ean't write, you know, with my gloves
on.'
'Will you please put this stamp on
my letter? the horrid gum on it makes
rae sick.'
The reader may think the above is
slightly exaggerated, but if you have
any doubt about the matter go to the
postofiice some pleasant day about
noon, or in the afternoon directiy after
school is dismissed, take up your posit
ion near the "stamp window, and you
will find that the above is drawn mild.