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<mmi
z i ..t ■ vt'ii now nruiy anecdotes illustra
tive ol tlu kind lie li t ami line. eouiteSy
of I heir oi l idol, Henry ('lay. Tho fol
lowing wo do ii >' 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•
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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.