THE MILLHEIH JOURNAL, PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY RY Deininger & Bnmiller. Office in the New Journal Building, Pen n St., near llartmnn's foundry. •1.00 PER ANNXJM, IN ADVANCE, OR $1.26 IF NOT PAID IN ADVANCE. Acceutable Correspondence Solicited Address letters to Mtllttetm Journal. Don't Let Mother Do It. Daughter, don't let mother do it! ]>o not let her slave and toll. While you sit, a useless idler, Fearing your soft hands to soil: Don't you "see the heavy burdens: Dally she Is wont to bear, "Bring the lines upon her forehead, Sprinkle silver in'her hair? Daughter, don't let mother do it! Do not let her hake or broil. Through the long,bright summer hours Share with her the heavy .toll. See, her eye has lost its brightness. Fade*l from her cheek the glow And the step that once was buoyant Now is feeble, tired and slow. Daughter, don't let mother do it! She has eared for you so long. Is It right the weak and feeble Should be tolling for the strong? Waken front your listless languor, Seek her side to cheer and bless. And your grief will be less bitter When the sods above her press. Daughter, don't let mother do it! You will never, never know What were home without a mother, Till that mother Hetli low; Low beneath the budding daisies, Free from earthly care and pain; To the home, so sad without her, Nerer to return again. MISSING. Mining—so many are missing, The old as well as the young. The poor and the rich together. The weak alike with the strong. r Missing—our loved ones wander. We never know how or where. And pass from our sight as surely As smoke fades into the air. Missing—a man; it may be A citizen famed and well known, Whosiuks in the human ocean As sinks in the pool a stone. Missing—our care and riches So vainly are used and spent: We know that the dear ones left us. But know not whitlter they went. Missing—at day time or night time. And under the stars aud the sun: They vanish ont of our knoledge As sands from an hour-glass run. Chased by Wolves. A STORY OF THE EARLY SET TLERS. "Tell us a story grandpa." It was a youngster who spoke, and as the words fell from his lips he came forward with a chair, and seated him- ' self by the side of a little old mau,witb a kind expression, whose hair and beard were of snowy whltenes3. "Ob, yes, grandpa, please do 1" cried two or three flaxen-haired urchin i, as they eagerly shoved their chairs up be fore the hearth. "Tell us about the ' bears and wolves, that used to be so numerous when you aud giaudma first ; moved into the big woods." "No, grandpa, tell us about the pan- 1 ther that you shot in the big tree !' I put in a blackeyed boy of some twelve years. "I think that story's just boss." "I think the story about the old In- : dian man is the best," said a kind lit- ' tie girl of ten summers, as sha placed her hand upon the aged man's knee,' aud looked up into his face. "You'll tell us that one—won't you, grand pa ?" The old man arose aud placed a couple of sticks of wood on the fire, in the good old New Englrmd fire-place and then went to the front window and gazd forth ioto the darkness. It was a night of storm and gloom, and the howling wind shook the windows spitefully. "Well, boys and girls," said he, coming back and resuming his seat, "to-night carries my mind back to the time when we passed such a terrible hour in the forest." Little Mary climbed up iuto the old man's lap, and with an anxious group of young listeners about him, he told the story. "We had been in the wilderness nearly three years ; and we had a good log house and log barn, and a clearing of some twenty acres. One afternoon in mid-winter, my father requested me and James to go oyer to Bilcher's and get a quarter of venison that he had left there the day before. "And mind you, boys," said he, 'you must be back before sunset. This is imperative." "We promised obedience, and with light hearts hurried away. "The distance to Mr. Blecher's was about two miles ; oyer a rough, log rood, and all the way through the woods. But to hardy, frontier boyt, of fourteen and sixteen years of age, this was nothing ; and at an early hour we arrived at Belcher's cabin, where we were kindly received by the family ; after which we were soon engaged in sport with the Belcher boys—riding down hill, chasing each other across the stumpy fields, and yisiting their traps and snares. "Time passed rapidly, as it always does when pleasautly engaged, and in the fullness of our joys we thought not of returning until nearly night ; when the loud roaring of the wiud a mong the trees on the hill, and the an gry whirling of a few feathery flakes of snow, warned us of an approaching squall. "Hurriedly we repaired to the house, aud. wrapping up the venison, in a clean cloth that we had brought with* us, we started homeward. "Boys," said Mrs. Belcher, coming to the door, "you had better stay with us to-night. It's a going to snow like fury, and the woive3 will catch you in the dark before you get home." DEININGER & BUMILLER, Editors and Proprietors. VOL. 58. "No, thank you, Mrs. Belcher," said 1 ; ' father commanded us to be back before sunset, and it must be that time now. How thoughtless we have been that we did not start before !" "But it's d ulcerous, b>ys" she ex postulated ; "the wolves may devour you. Stay with us, and start early in the morning." "She could uot induce us to stay, however, for our guilty consciences were inwardly reproaching us for stay ing so long already. What would our kind parents say when daik night should come on without bringing our return ? "Pshaw !" said James who was some two years older than I ; "the wolves won't trouble I" and with these words we started into a brisk trot. "Already it was dusky in the thick woods, and soon the snow commened to fall very fast. We reached the top of a high, wooded ridge, oyer which the road wound, and were plodding a long, facing the stormy blast, when a low, dismal howl greeted our ears from the swamp below. "Jim," said I, "thats a wolf, sure's the world ! I don't know but that we'd a done better to have stayed at Mr. Belcker's." "Come on !" he returned. "Who's a going to ha afeard of one wolf ? They never attack auything unless there's a gang together ; and we'll be home before they get congregated ; we're most half way home now." "A few moments later the same dis mal howl raug mournfully through the thick forest again. And this time an answer tag how came up from the val ley on the other side. Another rao meut, and then a prolonged echo re sounded behiud us ; and then another, from the glen away beyoud the head of the swamp. "A cold shudder ran through my quivering frame aud my panting breath seemed to come in fitful gasps. What would become of us ? We should be devoured by the wolves. Father, a larmed at our absseuce, would come to find us and they would kill him too ! And mother and sister would mourn and perhaps starve aud die alone in the wilderness ! And it would all be on account of our wicked disobedieuce. The thought was withering, and it racked my very scul with mental a gouy. "We had been carrying the venison by turns. James snatched it from my arms, and we fled like frightened deer down the hill. "As we neared the low ground, the sombre hemlocks shut out the little lin gering light of day and we could but just decern the road. Louder a- d mora fierce sounded the blood-curdling howls, as the cruel beasts gathered neare rabout us, and we began to re alize that a terrible moment was ap proaching. "Suddenly a dark, tawny object dash ed across the r.ad directly before us. The dried twigs snapped, and the bushes rastled, as it leaped to one side and sent forth a quick, hoarse growl, causing us to quake with terror. "James threw down the venison. He grasped my hand, and we sped a long the road with all our might. A moment later such a commingled snar ling and howling arose as I pray heav en I may never hear again. "They were fighting over the veni son ; and now, if we would save our lives, we must do our utmost to escape during the few moments they would be engaged in devouring it. "But ere we had proceeded a hun dred rods they were coming again in swift pursuit. We were now running up hill; and we soon became so tired it seemed as though we must drop from exhaustion. Panting for breath, we staggered on. It seemed as though we should never reach the summit. We broke over the height at last, however; and, as we commenced to descend, a bright light glimmered through the forest, like a brilliant loue star in the darkness. To us it was indeed a star of joy. It wa3 the light from our own cabin window in the quiet little yalley below. "It raised in our despondent breasts a new ray of hope, and we darted on with renewed energy. The blinding snow dashed in our faces, and winter's frozen blast roared through the naked forest like a huricane. The wolyes were now close upon us again, and in a moment we might feel their sharp fangs pierce our flesh. "We felt sure, if we could reach the clearing, they would pause in their pursuit, and then we should escape. By turning into a rude, log path, we could reach a corner of it within thirty or forty rods from where we were . It was the nearest point ; though to reach it we would have to Gross a deep, rocky gully, through ran a small, tur bulent stream of water. "We did not stop to argue, but dash ed down the steep 'declivity, regardless of hurts and bruises, and 30011 reached the creek. I know I would not have MILLHEIM, PA., THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 28., 1884. dared to rush down that precipitous bank in thj way I did if it had been in | the daytime and 1 could have seen where 1 was going. "As we scrambled up tho opposite ! bank, wt heard three or four of the J scvago beasts crossing the creek behind ! us, and by the time we had readied the ! top they were upon us. "James hurriedly dtew off his coat and threw it down into the gulch. "My soul ! What a fearful noise en sued, as they leaped upon the tattered garment and tore it into shreds It seemed as though all the fiends in Pan* demonium were let loose. But it, oc cupied their attention only for a mo ment, and then they came on again. "We threw our hats behind us, but they did uot stop for them. A huge gray wolf, uttering an angry snarl, leaped over my shoulder, his sharp teeth snapping close to my ear as he dashed past. The next moment he leaped to one side,snapping sayagely at my legs ; and, fastening upon my coat, he tore off the skirts in an instant. "James screamed with pain as anoth er leaped past him, biting bis hand as he went, and at the same instant I re ceived a shai p bite on my leg. We were surrounded by the snarling pack, now emboldened to des peration, and eager to leap upon our shoulders an .bury their teeth in our heads and necks. "Suddenly there came a blinding flash, almost directly in our faces, and then the stunning report of the old Continental musket awoke the eclioe? of the gloomy forest. "Father had come to rescue. The sound of the musket at that moment was more joyful to our ears than the sweetest strain of music. The wolves vanished from before us. as if by mag ic, and their loud, unearthly yells im mediately ceased. "Ivuu, boys—run for your lives I" father cried out, in a clear tone of voice. "They will certainly kill you if they over take you !" "Aye we knew it, and we bounded forward with alacrity. As we enteiei the clearing our courage rose, and we flitted past the blackened stumps with the speed of frightened fawns. "We could hear the furious animals collecting again on the edge of the clearing, and we knew we could not trust them. Dashing up to the house, we excitedly called ont, between our panting breath : "Open the door for the love of heav en !" The door swung back on it's wooden hinges, and we staggared in and sunk down upon the floor,before the hearth, bleeding and exhausted. "Father followed close behind us ; and, raising us to our feet, kindly in quired if we were badly hurt. If 1 should live to be a hundred years old, I shall never forget the looks of my dear mother, as, with streaming eyes, she clasped us alternately in her aims ; and the angels must have been moved to tears as her fervent prayer of thanks giving ascended to heaven. "Father did uot say a word to us a bout our disobedience then ; but the wolves had taught us a bitter lesson, and one long to be remembered. We hari tasted the retributive fruits of dis obedience. and from that hour we were more careful to obey a kind father's commands." Peculiar Courtship A French peasant girl of spirit and determination was deserted bv her lover, who had promised to marry her. Some time afterwards lie called and found her washing clothes in the gar den, near a well. Tlicy had been chatting a while, when suddenly the girl, as if by accident, dropped a cloth into the well, and exhibited great grief over the loss of it. Her com panion volenteered to lean over in the well and fish the garment out ; but while he was so engaged, the girl caught him by the legs and threw him in. In reply to his cries, she told him if he would promise to marry her she would pull him out. He did promise; but no sooner was he out than he brought suit against her for trying to murder him. Then at last he withdrew it and married her. He came to the conclusion that he had met his match. A Michigan girl told her young man that she would never marry him until he was worth SIO,OOO. So he started out witli a brave heart to make it. "How are you getting on, George?" she asked at the expiration of a couple of months. 'Well,' George said hopeful ly,'l have saved twenty-two dollars.' The girl dropped her eye-lashes and blushingly remarked: 'I reckon that's near enough, George.' She was willing to trust him for the little bal lance. J V PAPKU l OU THE lIOMK CIIU U A Sparkling Spasmodic Spec tacle. A Plumbor nearly Drowned by our little Boy—his Failure to do so a to tho World. "Now, then," said tho panting plumber, addressing the colored cook in her kitchen, "I hive dug down six teen feet in tho hack yard and have at last found and cut the waste pipe where it leaks. Don't disturb the mounds of earth, or pour any water or slop in the kitchen sink, for, if vou do, it will run out tho pipe at the other end and instantly make a well of wa ter in the back yard deep enough to drown vour old man." Cook—"For dc Jaw, honey,him needs somefiu of dat kind ; but whar I'se gwine to pour all de dirty slops, eh V" Plumber—"Oh, dump the slops down your old man's throat or out in the street gutter. G >od- bye,Biiowbal I, tell your mistress I'll finish tho job next month." C.—[Yelling at the top of her voice] "Nex' inomf J white man ! What for you done gone and cut dc pipe for now, if you ain't gwine to fix it lite away. Think I'se gwine to tote slops for a whole nioiuf ?" P. —"Well, aunty, you see the pipe must thoroughly dry on the inside be fore we can make a first.class job, and, besides, if we fixed it now, it might breed sickness in the kitchen." C. -Oh, dal's it, am it ? Well I'se got de lheumatiz already, and thank de good Lord dot's enougn for dis nig ger. I'll tell missus, sir, Good-bye." Six weeks elapse. P.—"Well, aunty, the month'a up. I've been here every d iy, you know, but this time I'm going to ft fish the job, for my cnarges already amount to SSOO, and 1 don't want your master to think that I'm putting up a job on him. Wh it's all this in these tubs, buckets, pitchers ?*' C.—"Oh, dey's all ob dem full ob greasy slops, dat arter a little, I'se gwiue to dump out'n de street gut ters." P.--"Confound you ! you ace of spades! II >ve y>u poured any down tlie sink siuce 1 was here V" C.—"Nary a drop. No sir. It's as dry out dere and inside de pipes as am de top ob dat stove dere, and you just sit on top ob dat and sec how dry it am. Dese receptions all obtain de boil ed down accuuilations ob greasy slops since you was here. My ole man's a* feard and 'spiciotis ob rue, an my poor ruinatick back has obstructed me in dumpin' de slops out'n de stieet gut ters." P.—"Well, I'm going to let myself down on my hands and knees to the bottom of tlie narrow hole out there. Be careful now, old woman, and don't pyur a drop of your "boiled down greasy slops" in the sink, until I get through soldering the pipe*" No sooner had the plumber reached the bottom of the narrow hole and withhis right eye was examining the condition of the pipe, than our mis* chivious little boy of three and a half years, unobserved by the cook, pushed over an immense tub of greasy slops that was merely balanced on the rim of the sink. A merry laugh from the little one ; a shout of utter astonish ment and a "bless de Lord 1" from cook ; a terribly loud gurgling, sucking noise, caused by the rapid 11vv of es scaping water ; a volume of language, not in the revised edition,from the per fumed and drenched planter, yelling for some one to 3ave him, and at the same time vowing vengeance on the in. nocent old cook, whose excuse and explanartous for our naughty boy he would not heed. Emerging from the hols with not a dry or clean stitch on, tlio plumber slipped and went flying back into the hole, with a revolving motion never to be forgotten. Rescued again, the old cook, with tears streaming her happy face, leads him into the darkest corner of the kitchen, where, assisted bj? a pile of old newspapeis, he waited for his clotties to dry. The old cok, as if to add further insult to injury, and with no thought now of a lame back, throws a poker at her old man, and "dumps" the slops in the stieet gut ters, muttering something about soap grease having called her snowball ; while the spectators of this sparkling, spasmodic spectacle rushed in a body to our dumb-founded litt'e hero as if they would annihilate him,but instead, to predict that if he had only succeed ed in drowning the plumber, the peo ple would one day, by acclamation, have rewarded him by making him President of the United States.— A gents Herald. 'lt's a very solemn thing to be mar ried,' said Aunt Bethany. 'Yes, but it's a great deal more solemn not to be,' said her niece. BEHIND TIME. A Railroad train was rushing along at almost lightning speed. A curve was just ahead, and beyond it was a station, at which the cars usually pass ed each other. The conductor was late, so late that the period during which the down train was to wait had nearly elapsed; but he hoped yet to pass the curve safely. Suddenly a locomotive dashed into sight right ahead. In an instant there was a collision. A shriek, a shock, and fifty souls were in eterni ty ;and all because an engineer had l>een behind time. ! A great battle was going on. Column after column had been precipated for eight inoi tal hours on the enemy posted along the ridge of a hill. The summer sun was sinking to the west; reinforce ments for the obstinate defenders were already in sight; it was necessary to carry the position with one final charge or everything would be lost. A power ful corps had been summoned from a cross the country, and it it would come up in season all would be well. The great conqueror .confident in its arrival, formed his reserve into an attacking column,and ordered them to charge the enemy. The whole world knows the result. Grouchy failed to appear; the imperial guard was driven back; Wate rloo was lost. Napoleon died a prisoner at St. Helena because one or his mar shals was time. A leadingTu in in commercial circles had long struggled against bankruptcy. As it bad enormous assets in California it expected remittances by a certain day; and, if the sums promised arrived, its credit, its honor, and its future prosperity would be preserved. But week after week elapsed without bring ing the gold. At last came the fatal day on which the firm had bills matur ing to enormous amounts. The steam er was telegraphed at daybreak; but it was found, on inquiry, that she brought no funds, and the house failed. The next arrival brought nearly half a mill ion to the insolvents,but it was too late; they were ruined because their agent, in remiting, had been behind time. A condemned man was led out for execution. lie had taken human life, < but under circumstances of the greatest ; provocation, and public sympathy was active in his behalf. Thousands had i signed petitions for a reprive; a favor- ; able answer had been expected the night before; and, though it had not; come, even the sheriff felt confident I that it would yet arrive in season. Thus the morning passed without the appear ance of the messenger. The last mo ment had come. The prisoner took his place on the drop, the cap was drawn over his eyes, the bolt was drawn, and a lifeless'body swung revolving in the wind. Just at this moment a horse man came into sight, jgalloping down hill, Insisted covered with foam. lie carried a packet in his right hand, which he waved rapidly to the crowd. He was the express rider with the re piive. But he had come too late. A comparatively innocent man had died an ignominious death, because a watch had been five minutes slow, making its bearer arrive behind time. It is continually so in life. The best laid plans, the most important affairs, the fortunes of individuals, the weal of nations, honor, happiness, life itself, are daily sacrificed because somebody is "behind time." There are men who always fail in whatever they undertake, simply because they are"behind time." There are others who put off reforma tion year bj year,till death seizes them, and they perish unrepentant, because forever " behind time." Five "minutes in a crisis is worth years. It is but a little period, yet it lias often saved a fortune or redeemed a people. If there is one virtue that should be cultivated more them another by him who would succeed in life, it is punctuality; if there is one error that should be avoided.it is being behind time. He Tried the Pass. A few days ago a man with a meek and humble expression and wearing a summer suit of clothes applied to one of the railroad passenger agents for a deadhead pass to Toledo. 'Why do you want to go to Toledo?' 'To git married.' 'And you havn't any money?' 'Not above twenty-five cents.' Hadn't you better be worth your faie to Toledo before taking a wife on vour hands to support?' 'You don't understand the case,' pro tested the man, 'l'm going to marry a widow worth at least $5,000, and the first tiling I shall do will be to remit you the pi ice of a ticket, l'ui poor and the widow Knows it, but she marries me for love.' lie protested so long and earnestly that he was finally passed down the road. Two days elapsed and then a let ter was received from him, saying: 'Heaven bless you for your kindness ! Reached here all light,and married the widow according to programme. It turns out she isn't worth a copper. In this emergency may 1 ask you to pass us both to Detroit,where I have hopes of striking a job?'— Detroit Free Press. Terms, SI.OO p3r Year, in Advance. Iho Duck Hunter's Story. "Speaking of cluck shooting on St. Clair Flats," sighed an old citizen, as he took a seat, in a gun store yetserday, "I don't think there are as many birds up there as were ten or fifteen years a go. Why,sir, the channels used to he just black with 'em, and they wero so tame that you'eould knock Vtn on the head." Kveryoody sighed to think those good old days and ducks could never return, and the veteran hunter contin ued: "I remember 1* was out one day in April. I got in among the bi| eds, and how many do you suppose 1 counted?" "Three hundred," ventured one of the audience after'a long interval "Three hundred ? Why, I always killed over a thousand every time . I went out ! No, sir, 1 counted over six teen thousand, great, big, fat, plump, delicious ducks, and then I had only counted those on one side of the boat!" "llow long did it take you ?" "I don't know, sir, 1 had no watch with me. Time is nothing to a man counting ducks. 1 counted aloud, and when the ducks were small I counted two for one. By and by I got tired of counting and got ready for the slaugh ter." "How many did you kill ?" "Well, now, I suppose I could lie a bout it and say 1 lulled nine out of ten hundred, but I'm getting too near the grave for that. No, I didn't kill a blasted one, r and that's where the strange part ot the stoiy comes in. When I began to lift the gun up, those ducks knew what 1 was up to just as well as a human being, and what did they do ? Why, sir, about two hundred of 'em made a sudden dive, swam un der the boat, and laised up her port side at once and upset her ! Yes, sir, they did, and there I was in the North Channel, in ten feet of water, lw>at tip set, night coming on, and I in my wet clothes." "Well V" "Well, I climbed tip on the bottom of the boat, floated five miles, and was picked lip by two Indians. We towed that unset boat to an island, and here another curious thing comes in. Un der the boat were two.hundred and six ty-four large, plump, ducks. They had been caught there when she upset, and all we had to do was to haul 'em out and rap 'em on the head." "Why, why didn't they dive down and get fromjunder the boat?" asked an amature duck shooter. "Why didn't they, sir?—why didn't they ? Well, sir I might have asked 'ein why they didn't; but it was late, a cold wind had sprung up, and I didn't feel like talking ! All I know is that I counted over sixteen thousand ducks, was upset, captured two hundred and sixty-four, and have affidavits heie in my wallet to prove everything I have stated. Docs any man here want to see the documents ?" No man did. They all looked out of the windows and wondered if they could lie that way when they had pass ed three score years. Children and their Infiuenoe. Nearer to glory they stand than we, in this world and in the next! It wrs a gentle and not unholy fancy that made the Portugese artist, Siquiera, in one of his s.veet pictures, form of mill ion of infant faces the floor of heaven ; dividing it thus from the fiery vault be neath, with its damned and lost. For how many women has this image been realized ! How many have been saved from|despair or sin by the voice and smile of these unconsious little ones? The woman who is a mother dwells on the immediate presence of guardian angels. She will heat on for her chil dren's sake. She will toil for them— die for them— live for them—which is harder still. The neglected, miserable, maltreated wife, has still one bright spot in her home ; in that darkness a watch-liglit burns • she has her chil dren's loye—she will strive for her chil dren. The woman tempted by passion has still one safeguard stronger than all with which you would surround her —she will not leave her children. The angry and outraged woman sees in those tiny features a pleading more el oquent than words ; her wrath against her husband melts in the sunshine in their eyes. Idiots are they who, in family quarrels, seek to punish the mother by parting her from her off spring ; for in that blasphemy against nature they do violence to God's own decrees, and lift away from her heart the consecrated instruments of His power. 'When,' asked a superintendent, fix ins: ins eyes on the teacher of a young ladies Bible class, 'when does man most keenly realize his own utter nothingness?' And the young man, who had led himself to the altar only two short weeks ago, blushed painfully and said with faltering voice: 'When he's being married.' NO. 9- NEWSfPAPERLAWS. If subscribers order the discontinuation o newspapers, the nuMlshers may continue t send them until all arrearages are paid. If subfk:rllH*rs reTuse or neglect Io take the! newspapers from the office to which they are ren they are held responsible until they haveseitiet the bills and ordered them discontinued. If subscriber* more toother places without in forming the publisher, and the newspapers ar sent to tlie former place, they are regponbible. L ADVERTISING RATES. 1 wk. 1 mo. 1.1 inns. 6 mos. 1 vea 1 square *2 no sion | *:> on sti oo SBO •/♦'column 4on fiOOl Minn 15 00 18 C( !t " TOO 10 (101 15 00 30 00 40 0 1 " 10 00 15 00 | 25 00 45 00 75 0 One inch makes a square. Administrators and Executors' Notices #2.50. Transient adver tisemenls and locals 10 cents per line for flrsi insertion and 5 cents per line for each addition al insertion. A IIARTER, Auctioneer, MILLITEIM, PA 1 w. SPRINGER,? fashionable Barber, Next Uoor to JOURNAL Store, MaliTßtreet, MILLHEIM, PA. DR. I). 11. MINGLE, Physician & Surgeon, Offliee on Main Street. MILLHEIM, PA. DR. JOHN F. HAHTEB, Practical Dentisl, Office opposite the Millheim Banking Housa MAIN STUEKT, MILLHEIM, PA HUMOROUS. A paper announce?! that at a recent boiler explosion in the neighborhood, "between t-hree and four men were j killed." A wealthy bank officer being ap plied to for aid by a needy Irishman answered petulantly,'No, no; I can't help you. I have fifty such applicants as you every day.' 'Sure, and ye might have a hundred without costing you much,' was the response. 'Jennie/ said a man at a Cortland hotel, 'what is this?' ami he held up an objeet on the end of a fork. 'That is a buckwheat cake, sir.' 'Oh, it is, eh? I didn't know but it was a new kind of postage stamp, or an old-fash ioned letter wafer. Do you nse a 3- eent piece for a griddle and bake a dozen at a time?' A "masher" is said to be composed of the following ingredients : Bi-car bonate of cheek, 980,230; essence of gall, 2560/ nitrate of stare, 2500; tincture of conceit, 3500; oxatate of collar, 230; acetate of toothpick shoes; .267: sul phate of smirk, .500; chloride of coat tail,.oo2;cyanide of brain—doubtful.ool. Total, 20,000, "No," said a man who applied for a pension,"! must acknowledge that I wis never in the army, but I once fell off a post-and-rail fence and broke my leg, while watching a militia company drill. It seems to me,a man who watch es a militia company drill for an hour, to say nothing about breaking his leg, ought to have some compensation from his eoantry." 'Gentlemen/ said the professor to his medical students assembled in clin ic,'l have often pointed out to you the remarkable tendency to consumption of those who played upon wind instru ments. In this case now before us, we have a well marked development of lung disease, and I was not surprised to find, on questioning the patient, that lie is a member of a brass band.' 'Now, sir,' continue the professor, addressing the consumptive,'will you phase tell the gentlemen what instrument you play on ?' 'I blays der drum,' said the sick man. 'llo.v much do you charge for the pants,anyway ?' asked the rural cus tomer. 'Dot makes some difference off you vants uem vor Suntay or efery tay, replied the vender, studying the sub ject carefully. 'lf you vant a sheap pair yor efery tay. dot bair vi'l pe two tollar; bat, if you vants dem bants yor Suntay, dey vill pe tife tollar und a liel luf. Subbose vou dakes um vor suntay, und ven dey vos a little vorn you vears dem vor efery tay. By dot, you safe two dollar on a fife tollar bair of bants?' Against which argument the countryman had nothing to offer, and the transaction was closed. The Bad Boy's Last Oaper. 'What's that?' said the groceryman, turning pale and starting for the door, where he found a woodsavvyer taking a pear. 'Getaway from there,' and lie drove the woodsawyer away and came in with a sign in his hand, on which was painted, 'Take one.' "I painted that sighti and put it ou a pile of cbro mo3 of a new clothes wringer, for peo ple to take one, and bv gum, tlie wind has blown that sign over on the basket of pears, and I suppose evely darn fool that has passed this morning has taken a pear, ana there goes the profits on the whole day's business. Say, you didn't change that sign, did you?' and the gio eryman looked at the bad boy with a glanee that was full of lurking sus picion. 'No, sir-ree,' said the boy, as he wip ed the pear juice off his face on a piece of tea paper,'l have quit all kinds of foolishness, and I wouldn't play a joke on a grave image.,
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers