THE MILLHEIH JOURNAL,
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY RY
Deininger & Bnmiller.
Office in the New Journal Building,
Pen n St., near llartmnn's foundry.
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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.
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sent to tlie former place, they are regponbible.
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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.,