Qvmillheim journal, pttJlished every thvrsday by Deininger & Bumiller. Office in the New Journal Building, JVnn St., near Hartman's foundry. SI.OO PER ANNUM, IN ADVANCE, OR $1.26 IF NOT PAID IN ADVANCE. Acceptable Correspond Solicited. Address letters to Mili.heim Jot rnal. NIGHT. Over the world, as it droo >s to sloop, Softlv the shadows of evening creep; Over'the hilt and vale and town, Softly,softly tne night comes down. Clasping the earth to her sable breast: Whispering, gently, "Peace and rest," \nd the silent dews fall sott and milil As a mother's tears o'er her wayward child. Thicker and thicker the shadows grow. And aloft in the blue nrc the stars, aglow; And over the earth comes a silence deep. As her weary creatures sink to sleep. Peace and rest till the morning breaks. And strong and fresh the world awakes. Oh. blessed night! with thy balmy air, Gentle and low as a whispered prayer, Wafting all weariness away. Leaving us stroug for the coimning day. Like thee be that night which comes to all. When swiftly and dark the shadows fall; When in the'east shine the guided bars, And the morning breaks beyond the stars. OLD SAYINGS. As blunt as a beetle. As sharp as a lance, As grave as a preaching, As gay as a dance. As late as the gloaming. As ltke as two peas. As erook'd as a ram's horn, As round as a cheese. * As flat as a flounder. As sticky as gum. As wide as a common, As tight as a drum. As white as a miller. As black as a crow. As lean as greyhound. As bent as a bow, As frail as a bandbox. As stout as au oak. As queer as aquaker, As game as a cook, As cute as a lawyer, As square as a die. As keen as a razor, As warm as a pie. As drunk as a piper, As sober's a judge. As clean as a shaving, As filthy as smudge, As swift as au arrow, As slow as a snail. As blithe as a linnet. As right as the mail. Yes, Make Them Happy. How dear to the heart of the house keeping woman Are comforts of which so few architects tell ! Nice children, good servants, and plenty of room in The well-fitted mansion in which they must dwell. But the first of the blessings kind fortune can give her. If she in the city or country abide, Is that which she longs for anil covets forever, The big airy closet, her joy and her pride— The roomy, clean closet, the well-ordered closet. The big, airy closet, her joy and her pride. The house may be perfect from garret to cellar, Well lighted, well aired, with coid water and hot, And yet. to the eye of a feminine dweller, If closetless, all is as if ii were not. How oft she has sunk like a dove that is wounded! How oft she has secretly grumbled and sighed, Because sue saw not, though with all else sur rounded. The big, airy closet, her joy and her pride— The roomy, clean closet, the well-ordered closet. The big, airy closet, her joy and her pride. Fond husbands who fain would have home like an Eden For you and your Eves, all complete as a whole. To read in, to write in, to sleep in, to feed iu, Forget not the closed so dear to the soul; But build them iu corners, in nooks and in crannies— Wheerever a closet may harbor or hide; And give to your Marys, your Katies and your Annies, The big airy closets, their joy and their pride The roomy, clean closets, the well-ordered closets The big, airy closets, their joy and their pride. THE LAWYER'S SECRET: It was io a luxuriously furnished room where a glowing grate threw geu ial light and warmth upon the occu pants that General Langton, lawyer and millionaire, listening with bated breath and pallid cheeks to a low and •melodious voice that told a story of a life. The speaker, a beautiful woman of about thirty, yet ten years younger than Mr. Langton, reclined in a low •cushioned chair, her attitude both speaking of the ease wealth gives, but her face was full of the deepest anguish as her lips recounted the story. "You love me," she said gently, yet sadly, "and I love you as I never loved any one before,although I am a widow. That you know, but you did know my husband's name. By my uncle's'last Tequest I dropped it and took his with the property he had left me. Do not look at me tenderly, Gerald, do not shake my voice or my heart, for when ;you know who I am you will not re peat the offer you made me, and which beaveu is my witness I tried to di vert." "Let your conscience be at rest there," said her listener in a grave, yet tender voice ; "you have nevers given me one hope, Maude. By what in stinct I kuew that you loved me I can never tell. Something in your eyes— some tone of your voice betrayed you. If, as you say, something in your past life does seperate us, you have been uo coquette to torment me with filse hopes. But, Maude, tell me again, whatever stands between us, you love me ?" "I love you," she said gravely; "and it is because I love you tbat I will not let you link your honorable name with that of the wretch who was my husband. I was very young—not sixteen—when he came to make a visit to some friends living at Grassbank. Uncle Richard Las a country seat near the village. I first met Alexander at a picnic, where 1 e was the very life of the party ; everybody's cavalier ; coui teous to all ; full of wit and animation and service to all. I believe every girl ■pn the grounds thought had captiV' DEININGER & BUMILLER, Editors and Proprietors. VOL. 58. sited him, his attentions were so well divided and yet s.i impressive to each one. He claimed to tie no more than a salesman in a large wholesale house with a good salary,hot he had the man ners of a gentleman of education, and the most pei feet beauty of f.iC3 and form that 1 ever saw in a num. It was not long before it was evident ho wish ed to win my love, and he had an easy task. Such love as a child of sixteen can give I gave him. He was the im personation of every hero of poetry and fiction with whom my limited reading had made me familiar. School-girl like 1 turd made an ideal hero, and fitted this my first admirer, with all his im aginary perfcctiins. "Fiom the first, Uncle Richard dis liked him pronouncing him false and shallow, and assuring me that my per sonal attractions had not won his heart ; but the fact of my being an heiress to a large property had gained me the protestations in which I so firm ly believed. "It is a painful story to me now, Ge rald. Let it suffice that I have lived in a world of pleasant dreams while Alex ander remained at Grassbank. When he left me he carried my promise to be his wife at Christmas. "I think if my money had depended on Uncle Richard, my marriage might have been prevented by his threatening to disinherit me but both from my father and mother I had inherited mon ey that mada me independent in a pe cuniary sense of his control or consent. "Most grudgingly, however, uncle did consent, after searching inquiry a bout Alexander, resulting in no worse report than that his employers thought him fast, idle, and just the man to be a fortune huuter. Even then my dear uncle would have protected my fortune by settling it upon myself ; but with the reckless generosity of extreme youth I refused to have this done. Never, I was firmly convinced, would my adored Alexander wrong me in any way. "For a year after the splendid wed ding that made me Alexander's wife I wits very happy. I was too ignorant of value to understand that we were liv ing far beyond our income—enjoyed to the utmost the luxuries around me - the constant gayety that was in such strong contrast to the school routine from which I had beeu released. "Then began a life of neglect, often of quarreling, when I objected to my husband's course of conduct— hio drinking, his extravagance and his late hours. Still I found my own pleasures in society. "It was four years after cny mar riage, when I was thunderstruck by Alexander asking me to request a loan of money from Uncle Richard,with the information added that every penny of my property was gone. 1 "Since then I have known that a large portion of it was lost at the gam ing table. "Long before this I had lost all love for my hii3band. Itespect had died out when I knew the dissipated life he was leading, and foolish as I was, I could not continue to love a man whom I despised. I refused the errand, and brought down a torrent of such great abuses that I really expected that Alex ander would end by striking me. "Day after day the request was re newed, but I would not yield. Upon my marriage, Uncle Richard had sold the city residence and taken a perma nent abode at Grassbank, where,know ing my husband to be an unwelcome guest,l neyer visited him. I wrote oc casionally, but the h>ve of pears, like that of a father and child, had been so sadly strained by my persistence in marrying Alexander that even our cor respondence was languid aud common place.. "I would not, therefore, write to him to ask a favor that I knew would not have been neccessary without crim inal recklessness of expenditure, and each refusal made my husband more furious. Then came an overwhelm ing blow. Alexander forged a check and drew £2,000 of Uncle Richard's money from the bank. I don't think my uncle would have prosecuted him had he guessed who was the forger ; but he handed the whole matter oyer to the law as soon as it was discovered that check was forged. It was then traced to Alexander, and at the same time it was found that he had robbed in the same way his former em ployers. lie had given up all work up on his marrirge ; but when lie found himself without money, his knowledge of the business enabled him to forge the name of Dei kiss & Co. Even if Uncle Richard had spared him for my sake the other forgery would have en titled liirn to penal servitude. He wis sentenced to seven years, and uncle took me home full of heavenly pity and forgiveness for the child who had treat ed him so ungratefully.'' "Then your husbanu i 3 in prison ?" said Gerald, in a hard, strained voice. 1 "No, no, he is dead ! He died with- MILLIIEIM, PA., THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 7., 1884. in the first year. Uncle Richaul saw the death in a paper, and sent the mon ey for the burial. No, lam free ; but none the less 1 am the widow of a con victed felon." "Rut, none the less," quoted Gerald, ' the woman I honor and love above all others, and hope still to make my wife." It took.however, more than one inter view, full of love's pleading, to win- Maude trom lu r ressolution. She so honored her lover, and was so proud of his good name and the position he has attained by bis talent, that her sensi tive nature shrank from even the shad ow of her misery upon his life. But the victory was won at last, and the lawyer walked home ono evening full of a proud glad joy, for Maude had than promised to be bis wife. "If you are willing to take Alexan der Hull's widow to be your wife," she said, "I will not oppose you any lon ger, for I love you with all my heart." lie had no thought but of that glad triumph when he turned up the gas in his office. He was in the habit of making a late visit there before going up to hi 3 bedtoom, in case notes or messages were left for him. One lay there on this evening, a shabby looking envelope, but directed in a bold, hand some hand which he recognized at once. lie tore it open. After a few words of introduction, the note ran : "You did the best you could on my trial, but ttie facts were too strong for you. I have now a last favor to ask of you. I die, as you know, at noon to morrow. You, as my lawyer, can sre rao any time. Will you come as soon as you receive this, and with the gratitude of the man you know as JAMES FOX." "The man I know as James Fox," muttered the lawyer ; "the smooth, plausible scoundrel who actually m l ie me believe him innocent of the hideous murder for which he was convicted. I can find extenuation for some mur ders, but this cold-blooded assassina tion of an old man for money only was revolting. How he dceived me, though, for a time. And how he ex ulted over his success in doing s > when he saw facts were too strong. Shall I go to him ? 1 suppose I must. It is still very early." It was not yet midnight when Ger ald Langton was ushered into the eel of the man who, in a few short hours, was to meet the extreme penalty of the law for the worst of all crimes. Yet there was nothing revolting in the ap pearance of the criminal. His dress was neat, his hair carefully arranged, mustache faultless,his hands white and refined looking. He rose from his seat upon the bed as his lawyer entered the cell. "I knew you would come," he said, courteously, "though you were offend ed at my want of franknesss. Well, that is all over. You will not refuse the last request of a dying man, Mr. Langton ?" "Not if ! can grant it," was the re- piy. "This," said the murderer, "is not my first offence against the law. Some years ago I was sentenced to a term of years for forgery. By a strange acci dent T escaped the penalty. On the same day Jam s Fox was sentenced to two years for petty larceny, and we were sent together to prison. James Fox—my companion, understand, not myself—was deranged, but his lawyers had not been able to save him, as his aborration was not always apparent. When we were entered upon the books of the prison, imagine my amazement when ray fellow prisoner gave my name for his own. a flash I saw the advantage to be gained by the de ception, and allowed the error to pass. My companion committed suicide, and I escaped with two years' imprison ment instead of seven. But 1 feared recognition and went to Canada. There I lived by my wits until a year ago, when I returned to try and raise money from my wife, and thought I saw an easier plan by committing the crime for which I die to-morrow. But 1 want to see my wife. 1 wronged her — I robbed her—but heaven is my wit ness, I love her. When I was in pris on she dropped my name aud took her own again. So it is not for Mrs. Alex ander Hull you must ask, but for Mrs. Maude Temple." Was the room reeling-the ceiling falling—the wall closing around him V Gerald Lmgton feli that they were, as the name fell upon his ears. Maude— his Maude—the wife of this cool villain who talked of his hideous crimes as if they were ordinary events V Well, he knew that to carry this man's message was to seperate himself from Maude forever. Never would she let him marry the widow of a murderer ! Very rapidly all of the terrible facts passed one after the other, and lie sail: "if you love her why add a misery to her life V She may have lived down the old pain you have caused her ; why,for A RARER FOR 'l'llK HOME UKt'Ll a selfish gratifle iiit>n,\vill you make her whole life a mi wry ?" "She is my wife ! 1 would bid her farewell." "She is not your wife. Your own .•l imes have released her from any alle giance to you." "You kno.v her ?" "W# ! I know what she has suffer ed, ami beg of you to let her still be lieve you died years ago." "She is happy V" "Scarcely that. Such wounds as hers never heal entirely, but ii is cruelty to tear the n open when they are quiet "Has she nvirrit d V" 'No ! She is si ill your widow." "It is hard to deny myself one more sight of her face and the hope 1 had she would say she forgave me." "Think of her, not yourself." There was a Lug silence in the cell. Every throb of (.Setaid Langton's heart was pain to him, but Alexander rlull sit in moody silence ; evidently reluctant to give up his wish. At last he spoke. "You, have been very good to me. Tell me, now, if you have any personal reason for your request. Perhaps you love her V" "I do !" was the reply. "She has promised to be my wife." "Tlnn I will be James Fox who is hanged to-morrow ! I meant to give my re d name, but I will carry my se cret to my grave. It may be in anoth er world tiiat tho little last self-denia! will he a plea for mo. Go now. You may trust mo." He kept his word, and Gerald Lang ton his secret. When Maude, a few weeks later, be came his wife, she little guessed the terrible ordeal which he had spared her, to the added disgrace that belong ed to the name she had given up.—Ex change. - - The Backbiter and Slanderer. We have no syinyathy with that vile class of men whose naturally puny minds can never allow an idea to soar above and beyond the affairs of their neighbors, and whose chief pleasure is in exposing th • folium an I detecting the faults of others. Heaven knows we all have too many peculiarities and idosynerasies, which perchance, if ex amined into carefully, do not count to our credit, but rather the reverse. What right Jius any man to judge the intentions and weigh the thoughts and acts of another? 4 Am I my brother's keeper?' may in this instance be ap propriately asked, because it is imposs ible to tell the motives, without bring acquainted with all the particulars, that at times drive men to drink and women to hell. Thedcvine command that stands forth in all its glorious majesty,—'Judge not that ye be not judged,'—should be the rule and guide of all men's action. The man that tra duces his neighbors, that sneers at a nother's faith (Whatever the creed may be) that ridicules the actions of the good; that scoffs at honor in a man; that decries the purity ir. women .is a foul outcast, a Pariah that should be driven forth like the leper of old, foi his breath is fested, his touch is pol lution, his word is a crying insult a gainst tlie gieatness and goodness of an Omnipotent, Omnipresent Father. Such men are too coutemptable,—the backbiters of society, the slandeiers of immunity, the scoff era of religion. The true man is morally bound to hide from view, to cover with the cloak of charity, the misfortunes, perchance the errors of others. Who can tell but that if placed i: similar circumstances, tempted by similar allurements, and surrounded by similar influences, he or she too might have hesitated, might have tasted the cup of pleasure and haye fallen. The man that assumes to himself the attributes of the Deity, is eithei a shallow-brained egotist or a blasphemeous cur. God alone is able to weigh the thoughts and judge the ac tions of men. What a miserable insiginificantcreat uro is lie who delights in the shortcom mings of his friend and the downfall of his neighbor! Yet such is the slan derer and backbiter, who, preventing the truth, robs his acquaintances of their character. The midnight robber, who steals your gold and jewelry, is pure in the eyes of God in comparison with him who. under the garb of friend ship, drags into dust the honor of his friend,and by foul and lying assertions, robs his daughter of her fair name. Such a man is too degraded, too debas ed. lie is the misiable, wretched spawn ot Satan, that delights in the foil slime of low slander and b.tse scandal. A creature of such a cast of character is not a man, lie is only the scum of cre ation, without a mind, without a soul. Ilow can such a vile reptile even con template . the grand, pure and holy thoughts that tho Creator has im planted in the breasts of all who study the works of the Deity? An old acquaintance:— 4 I say, X, lend mo $-3.' 'lmpossible.' 'What, you refuse this favor to your second 'self?' 4 Yes, I know myself too well.' REMEMBERED. The Kcntuckian* tell about U' ieiii' iob r having s -en in print. ():i one occasion, when a young man, CUV was travelling up the Ohio on a small steamboat. Ha was taken sick with violent cramps ami colic. An old colored woman who was on board took charge of liiin, administered medicine, etc., and nursed him faithfully until the boat touched at Wheeling, where he could be put under a physician's care. Ten years afterwards CI ay, then at the zenith of his fanv\ was making a political speech at Louisville, from the steps of a public building. Tne square was crowded with public men, while a line of black faces fenced them in. In the cheers that rose when the orator had finished a shrill voice was heard,— 'Gol bress Mars Henry!' Mr. Clay, who was surrounded ly his eager friends, paused. l A moment, gentlemen. I think I bear the voice of one who has been very kind to me,' glancing around searcli ingly. 'There! That old mammy on the edge of the crowd, I should like to see her.' He stepped down into the street, and way was eagerly made for the old woman, who was brought Lip to shake hands with the great man. it was the pioudest moment of her life, and tin happiest. Hut Mr. Clay was not satis fied with confering this simple pleasure. He procured situations for her husband amljsons, which enabled her to spend her remaining years in comfort. —— According to a Huston letter in the New York Graphic General Hutler is not always the victor at repartee: The late Henry F. Durant was at onetime a student in Hutler's otlice, and so became well acquainted with him and his convivial habits, which were at that time rather pronounced. Afterwards he set up 111 law for him self. and while still young was opposed to his former employer in a rather tick lish case. Mr. Hutler had very little law on his side and depended greatly 0:1 the inexperience and ? opposed awe of his opponent for his own success. His first question was: •This is Mr.Dnrant, 1 believe?' 4 Yes, sir.* 'Mr. Henry F. Durant?' 4 Yes, sir.' 'Mr. Smith also, I believe?' (Mr. Smith had Lis name changed by law to Dnrant ) •Yes, sir.' '1 thought so. 1 think you are the two men whom I once knew.' Having by such means worked up Mr. Durant to a point of almost asphyxia his opponent said, in a rather confiden. tial way: '1 think I have heard it stated, Mr.— Durant, that you always prepare your speeches before the glass.' Like a tl ish the answer came. 'Better that tb in after one,like your self, Mr. Hutler.' Wasp Stinga and Union Juico. A correspondent writes to the Lon don Tim s : "When my son was a bout fifteen, he went out one evening with the men to take wasp's nest. Soon lie rushed into the drawing-room, looking the death,saying lie could hard ly get up to the house. He had been stung in Hie eyeball. Theie was a great commotion, and of course sal volatile was got ; but one cf the maids urged me so pertinaciously to put in onion juice, that I said, "Get some quick,and put it in." This she did le lore l.e became insensible. The eff'Ct was marvelous. llis color began to re turn, and before long he jumped ui> to go and finish taking the nest. In this case there was no fear whatever. No year passes without his taking wasps' and hornets' nests, although every spring I offer rewards for every wasp and hornet brought to me. I have known other cases of f lintness and vio lent sickness from a wasp's sting where there was no fear; but 1 strongly rcc commend the onion as al ways 'o be had. Cut a fiesli one, scrape the juice, and put it on the sting. It is not often a wasp leaves its sting, but it is easily seen. Bees always leave their stings, so can defend or offend but once, which is to 1110 one of the mysteries of na ture." Man that is married to a woman is of many days and full of trouble. In tue morning lie draws Ins salary, and in the evening behold it is gone. It is like a tale that is told; it vanislietli and no one knows whither it goeth. He raiseth up clothed in the chilly gar ments of the nights and seeketh the somnambulent paragoric wherewith to sootii the colicy bowels of his infant postery.lle becometh as a horse or ox and draweth the chariot of his offspring, lie spendeth his shekels in the purchase of fins linen to cover the bosom of his family, yet himself is seen in the gates ot the city with one suspender, Yea, he is altogether wretched. Terms, SI.OO psr Year, in Advance. A Rag-Bag Team. In the rarhfMqys of Buffalo, a lead ing lawyer was arguing a cause in lire i Court of Common Picas, where one of the H;U' j ulges presided, the first judge not Being on the bench. To show his superi nity, tin* jurists often pat irritat ing quest ions to the counsel. To help the mailer along, the two other side ! judges on the bench annoyed the law yer in a similar manner. At last he I could endure this no longer, and paus ing in the midst of his arguments he j said, "If your honors will excuse me, I would like to s..y that this court re -1 minds me of u Vigiuia rag-bag leant." 1 "Well, sir, what kind of a team is that ?" asked the judge. "It is a team your hopor, composed cf two mules and a jackass." Fr this the lawyer was fined fifteen dollars and two day's impi isonment. Young Life in Old Bodies. Our good friends of three score years and beyond will suffer a few kind hints —not new in substitute, but suggestive and useful. Don't grow old and rusty and cross, afraid of nonsense and fun. Tolerate the follies and crudities of youth. Gray hairs and wrinkles you cannot escape, but you need not grow old in feeling unless you choose. And as long as your ane is only on the out side yon will win confidence from t" e young, and find your life is all ll e brighter for contact with theirs. But you have too many grave thoughts, too many weighty anxieties and duties, too much to do to make this trilling pos sible, you say. The very reason, my friend, why you should cultivate fun, nonsense, lightness of heart, because you are 'weary with thinking.' Then do try to he young, even if you have to be foolish in sojdoing. One cannot be wise all the tun •. "Did vou husband consider that he was gwine tor die ?" inquired an Austin colored parson of a recent le --roaved widow of the same kusky com | plexion. "Did lie consider that lie was gwine tor die ? Wal, I should say he did. IB* was the most con siderate husband I eblier had. De night he passed away I was done worn out. I had boon sotting up wiflT an'watching wiflf him for nior'll a week, an' I said, 'Clein T'se gwine tor try an' git a little nap, an' if yer think yuse gwine ter die, just punch me,' and would you believe it dat man was so considerate dot he died with out waking me tip. He was the nios' considerate man I ebber saw in my life."— 7V.rx S;f'(fir fs A Dejeotecl Physician. A capital story is told in Parisian circles to the "discomfiture of a certain physician of that city. lie had atten ded tno only child of rich parents, and had with the aid of providence saved the infant's life. A day or two after her darling was pronounced out of danger, the grateful mother visited the man of science at his establishment. 'Doctor,' said she, 'there are certain services which money cannot remuner ate. Scarcely knowing how to dis charge my debt to you, I have thought you might be willing to accept this pocket-book, which I myself have em broidered, as a trilling token of my gratitude.' , 'Madame,' retorted the disciple of Esculapius, somewhat rudely, 'the practice of medicine is not a matter of sentiment. Time is money,and we ex pect our time to be paid in cash. Pret ty presents may serve to perpetuate friendship, but they do not contribute to the cost of house-keeping.-' 'Well, then, doctor,' replied the lady, much wounded by his tone and manner, 'be so good as to name the sum at j which you value your professional ser -1 vices.' 'Certainly, madame. My charge in your instance is two thousand trances.' Without further remai'K the lady open ed the rejected pocket book, which she held in her hand, took two of the five thousand franc notes stowed inside, placed them on the great man's table, and quietly bid him good morning. The doctor lias not yet recovered his ; equanimity. A colored gentleman who was crip pled 111 a railroad accident, sued the company. When the case came up for trial, it was proved that the colored ; gentleman was stealing a rids at the time he got hurt. 'What Uilfreuce do dat make?' lie | asked. 'Makes so much difference that you 1 cannot recover damages.' 'Wall, how much will yer gimrae ter withdraw the suit?' 'A 2-cent stamp.' ! '(Jin it here. BMI waitiu' ter sen' a letter fur some time. Thankee, sail. De railroad am now free.' NO. 0• NEWS PAPBRLAWS. If subscribers order the discoutiuuation of newspaper* the imHkhm may continue to send tin-in until all arrearages are paid. If subscribers refuse or neplect totaketholr newspapers from the office to which they are sent they are held responsible until thev ha*oettied the bills and ordered them discontinued. If subscribers move toother places without in forming the publisher, and the newspapers ar sent to i lie former place, they are responsible. L " . ADVERTISING} RATER. 1 wk. 1 mo. 1 .linos. 6 moo. 1 ye 1 square * 2| 25 00 45 00 75 (0 One Inch makes a square. Administrators' and Executors' Notices t.:.50. Transient advor. tisemenls atisl locals 10 cents tier line for first insertion and 5 cents per line for each addition al insertion. II ARTE It, Auctioneer, MILLHEIM, PA. J. SIMHN'GEff," . Fashionable Barber, Next n.>:r to JOURNAL Store, Main Street, MILLHEIM, PA. D. 11. MINGLE," Physician & Surgeon, oflllce on Mam Street. MILLHEIM, PA. T"\& JOHN F. IIARTER, Practical Dentist, Office opposite the Millheim Bank log Hoone, MAIN STREET, MILLHEIM, PA J-yt. GEO. S. FRANK, Physician & Surgeon, REBEUSUURO, PA. Professional call* promptly answered. 3in C. T. Alerandej. C. M. Bower. ALEXANDER A BOWEK, AUorney-at-Law, BELLKFONTE, PA. Office in Carman's new building. - 1 -■ HUMOROUS. 'What station do you call this?' asked a man as he crawled out of the ruins of a carriage after a railway ac cident. 'Devastation, sir,' replied a fellow passenger. At a medical examination, voung as pirant for a physician's diploma was asked. 'When does mortification en sue?' 'When you propose and are re jected,' was the reply. 'Walk slower, papa,' cried the little girl whose slioit steps were no match for the strides ot ner masculine pro genitor; 'can't you go nice and slow, like a policeman?' •Is it true that when a wild goose's mate dies it never takes another?' .asks a young widow. 'Yes but doii't'worrv about that. The reason it acts that way because it is a goose.' A little girl was sick, and her moth* er wanted her to take some medicine in which there was a quantity of creosote. 'Oh no, mamma,' the child cried, 'I don't want to take that; it smells too much of toothache.' Dumley came home one night and declared that he had been so busy dur ing the day that he hadn't time to draw a lpng breath. •Yes,' remarked young Brown, 'I noticed when \ T ou came running up the steps that your breath was very short, but according to my way of thinking, what it lacked in length it more than made up in strength.' A cynic's mockery: 'How old would 3011 take me to be?' asked a bewigged and siiperamiated coquette. 'Several years older than your hair, madame,' was the remorseless answer. A burly, weather-beaten tramp re cently entered a bank, and addressing the urbane cashier, asked for fiye dol lars. 'Five dollars,' exclaimed the cashier: 'isn't that rather steep? 1 should think a quarter would be about your size, wouldn't it?' 'Well,' said the tramp, 'lf you think you under stood this begging business better than I do, perhaps we had better change plao s. If it suits you, I'm agreeable.' The pupils had got as far as the word, 'hypocrite.' None of tbeciiildren could explain what it meant. * One guessed that it meant 'big feeling,' and another thought that 'hypocrite was 'a big animal that wallers in the mud.' So the teacher explained: 'A hypocrite, children, is a person who pretends to be what lie is not; such as one who may be pleasant to your face, but speaks ill behind your back.' 'Please, marm,' cried a little boy, eagerly, raising his hand, 'then my pa ain't a hypocrite, 'cause lie said you was a confounded old uiaid, and he'd just's leave tell yer so to yer face!' As my wife was cleaning house one day, she engaged an old gray-haired man to varnish some furniture. Casting his eye 011 a beadstead she was taking apart, he asked-' 'Are there any bugs?' 'But very few,' replied she. 'Well, I liaye a good receipt for get ting rid of the verraints,' said he, and I will give it to you if you would like it,' 'Yes,' said she, 'if it ? s good, tell me what it is.' 'Just go down to the lake and get some fine white sand,' said he, 'and when you catch a bug put one grain in his mouth, roll him over on his back and tickle him with a feather. It'll choke him to death in a minute. D->n'fc give it awav.' My wife lias dona with receipts.