THE MILLIIEIM JOIRXAt,
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY BY
R. A. BUMILLER.
Office in the New Journal Building,
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BIRDS OF SPRING.
They are come, with flutter, aiul chirp, and song
To the earth. lain barren and cold so long:
And a beartsotne. lightsome cheer they bring,
These wee adventurers, birds of .niing!
Oh! 1 love the little boid breasted tlihurs
Braving the snow-scarfs—which winter flings
Spitefully back on the northern blast.
When forced to flee from the spring at last,—
Daring the rain clouds, heavy and gray,
Which chill the life of the sweet young May ;
Through frosts ami storms they blithely sing-
Bright little, brave little, birds of spring.
riumeri augurs of nearing summer days:
Of perfumed breezes; of blossom sprays;
Of strawberries, red as your lips, little maid;
Of bare-bells, as blue as your eyes, in the glade
Of emerald billows everywhere.
And swinging scythes in the sun-bright air;
Of mellow, slumberous, August noons;
Of hazy sunsets, and golden moons;
% Of purpling vintage; of harvest sheaves;
Of boughs full fruited; of ripening leaves;
Prophets clear of this shifting ring.
Do they warble and twitter— my birds of spring!
And these dainty denizens of the air.
In their prudence, and patience, and loving care
Are images sweet, so it seems to me.
Of a provident, tender humanity.
They fashion the;r dwellings, cosy ami wee.
All lor tk? younglings yet to be;
And soon, for the wants of the callow brood,
They will forage the garden,and field.and wood
From dawn until darkness of summer days,
They will wing their busy, voicelul ways;
And my heart will swell with t lie songs they sing
My early, my cheery, birds of spring!
WHEN THE SUN IS SHINING.
Pouting, my darling, because it rains,
And the flowers droop and the rain is falling,
And drops are blurring the window-panes,
Aiula meaning wind through the lane Is calling
Crying and wishing the sky was clear,
And roses again on the lattice twining!
Ah. well, remember, my foolish dear,
•'Tis easy to laugh when the sun is shining!"
When the world is bright and fair and gay,
And tne glad birds sing in the fair June w eath
er,
And summer is gathering, night and day.
Her goldeu chalice of sweets together,
When blue seas answer the skv above,
And bright stars follow the day's declining,
Why, then, 'tis no merit to smile, my love:
"Tis easy to laugh when the sun is shining!"
But THIS is the time the heart to test.
When w inter is here and storms are howling,
And the earth from uhder her frozen vest
Looks up at the sad sky, mute and scowling; -
The brave little s; irit should rise to meet
The season's gloom aud the day's repining;
And THIS is the time to In? glad; for sweet,
"'Tiseasy to laugh wheu the sun is shining!"
Four Yeass Old.
What makes it night ** I want to go
Way off behiud the sky and see.
The world's as round as it can be.
Somebody told me, so I know.
You yellow Moon, how bright you are!
Have all the stars been put to bed ?
And is it true, as nursey said,
That you are the baby- stars' mamma •
And are they sometimes naughty too ?
I cried a little bit to-day;
The tears would come— where do they stay,
Wheu people's eyes won't let them through ?
My dolly's in in the grass out there.
Be quiet. Wind! you rustle so,
I'm 'fraid you 11 wake her up. you know,
Please hush, dear Wind?—l wonder where
That four-leaved clover is that grew
Dowu by tbe fence t his afternoon.
I'm four years old, too. Tell me, Moon,
Wheu shall I be as old as you ?
The clocks are striking in the town.
Oh, dear, I haven't said my prayers.
The little birds, I think, s.ng theirs—
I beard them w hen the sun w eut down.
Where d'd it go, and why ? Some day
I'll know a great deal more, I guess,
When I m not quite so siee >y. Yes,
Mamma, I'm coming right away!
A' REVOLUTIONARY
REMINISCENCE.
The following story was told a num
ber of years ago, by an old Revolution
ary soldier, to bis children and grand
children, as they sat around the festive
board of a Thanksgiving dinner. The
writer, then quite a youth, was present
—though not as a relative—and heard
it, and treasured it up ia his memory,
and now gives it to the public, as near
ly as he can remember, in the lan
guage of the yeteran, suppressing only
the names of the parties introduced,
which for various reasons he does not
wish here to state.
The 19th of April, 1775, (began the
aged narrator,) was a day long to be re
membered, not only by myself, but by
all who take a pride in our glorious
institutions. The ever-to-be remem
bered morning dawned bright and
beautiful, the sun rising in calm glory,
as if it were not to witness the bloody
opening of that great drams, upon
which the eyes of the whole civilized
world were instinctively turned, aad
whose closing scenes haye left us a free
and independent nation.
I was at that time about two-and
twenty years of age, and was in the
employ Mr. S****, of Lincoln, as a
farm-band. I had gone down to the
field alone, about the usual hour :
but had not been there long, when Mr.
B**** came hurrying down, and, in an
excited tone, said :
"David, there are great things going
on ; and the time has now arrived
when we must either take a bold stand
and defend our rights with our Lves,or
tamely submit like cowards to British
oppressiou."
I asked him wJiat he meant, and he
replied :
"A messenger has just passed by
here, on his way to ah.rm tbe country,
who says that a large body ot British
troops, on their march from Boston to
Concord, passed through Lexington
early this morning, and, without pro
vocation, fired unon the militia aud
citizens, killing and wounding quite a
number."
lie futher said that great alarm pre
vailed throughout the country round
about—that the bells had been rung
and the drums beat to arms—that men
were everywhere leaving their woik
and huiryiug to the field of action—
and asked me if I was willing to take a
part in the coming struggle.
"Yes," I replied, "if matters haye
come to such a pass, X would rather be
R. A. BUMILLER, Editor.
VOL. 58.
on the field of battle than here."
"Then quit your work at once," ho
said ; "take your gun, and go and do
your duty ; for if you fe.-l as I do, you
would much rather die a freeman than
live a slave."
Accordingly 1 left the field, and hur
ried to the house, where I equipped
myself as well as 1 could, only being
delayed some half an hour in running a
few extra bullets, my powderhorn hav
ing fortunately been filled a few days
before. Then putting up some provis
ions, for I did not know when I should
return, 1 bade Mr. * and bis fami
ly good-bye, and told them,if they nev
er saw me again, I hoped at least they
would hear a good account of me.
I had net gone far, when I met a
horseman, riding at full speed. 1 ask
ed him the news, and he sung out,
without stopping his horse :
"A large body of British troops, aft
er shooting down several men in Lex
ington, have marched upon Concord,to
destroy the town. Hurry on,for every
man is wanted !"
He said something more, but this
was all I caught—for his hoise, being
ou the run, had carried aim beyond my
hearing.
I then struck across tlie fields to the
Concord road, running most of the
way ; and when I came in sight of the
road, 1 saw many persons hurrying tip
from every direction, each man I ring
ing with him his gun and whatever
else ho thought needful—sometimes a
loue, like myself—but mostly in par
ties of two, three, and four—seldom
more.
Boon after I got into the Concord
road, 1 met a couple of men, partially
uniformed, hurrying towards Lexing
ton. I stopped and asked tlietu the
news ; and one replied very excitedly ;
%; Dreadful times, friend ! dreadful
times 1 A large body ot British infan
try and grenadiers have marched on to
Concord to destroy the place, which
they are doing al this minute."
"Then why are yon not there to de
fend it ?" inquired I.
"Because the citizens and militia
are at present too few to cope with the
British ; and we, with many others,
have been dispatched by Colonel B****,
to act as scouts, alarm the country,and
get full reports of the doings below."
I then asked them if they thought I
could be of any service at Concord ;
end they answered that I had better
go and see for myself ; but that every
body wa3 greatly alarmed, and so far
there was no unity of action.
After this I did not. hurry as before,
but walked, keoplng a sharp look-out,
and wondering to myself Inw the af
faii was going to terminate.
Not thinking it exactly prudent to
approach the village by the road, and
not caring to be mixed up with other
parties, I once more turned off into
the fielc'o, ascended some high ground,
whence 1 could get a partial view of
the place, and form some idea of what
was going on.
It was little I could see, however,
save a dense smoke, rising from the
center of the place, and here and there
a glimpse of British soldiers, and some
of our own volunteers, as they march
ed iu companies to take different posi
tions.
In an open lot, just back of the vil
lage, stood quite a collection of women
and children ; and on what is now call
ed Burying-ground Hill, were a uum
ber of British officers, apparently sur
veying the place through their glasses ;
while from every direction, I could see
citizens huirying up. but more in bod
ies than before, to join their country
men, ana. if neccessary, assist in re
pelling the invaders.
As 1 thus stood looking, I heaid the
report of guns, but apparently only
some three or four.
Next I heard a single discharge, and
then what appeared to be a volley.
This was followed by loud cries, and
another volley, and for a few minutes
by rapid and continual discharges, by
which I knew that an action had fair
ly commenced on both sides.
While I stood hesitating, not know
ing in what manner it was best for mo
to act, the firing ceased ; and soon aft
er, to my great joy, I saw the head of
the column of British infantry filing
down the road.
I now hurried round to the rear of
the evacuating forces, and on entering
the village,found some hundreds of our
men collected on the common, almost
without order, companies apparently
being disbanded, and the greatest ex
citement and indignation prevailing.
Some half a dozen or more had been
killed and wounded on both sides, aud
a considerable amount of property had
been destroyed by the enemy ; but tiie
latter, having suddenly become alarm
ed at the determined action and the
rapidly in creasing numbers of the citi
zens, had beat a full retreat, leaving
two of their dead where they had fall
en, and were now filing down the road
in fine military order, with strong
flanking pur ties thrown out on either
MILLHEIM, PA., THURSDAY, APRIL 3., 1884.
side, their splendid uniforms and burn
ished arms glittering in the bright sun
shine and making an imposing show.
But thinking only of their dastardly
and wanton acts, and that they were
only vulnerable men like themselves,
the excited crowd ap >edily revolved to
follow and harruss them.
"Let us have revenge !" cried one :
"revenge for our comrades, shot down
in cold blood !"
"Aye, let us follow and shoot them
down in the same way !" exclaimed
another.
"Who is to lead us ?" asked a third.
"We want no leader !" shoutsd a
fourth. "Let every man do his duty
by himself, and shoot the scoundrels
wherever he can reach them."
With this the people set up a wild
shout of approval ; and immediately
the crowd began to scatter, most of
them taking direction of the retreating
army, I following with the majority.
Oil coming up within bullet range of
the rear gaurd, we opened upon them a
general fire, and saw some live or six of
them drop from the ranks.
They immediately icplied with a vol
ley, hitting four of our party and kill
ing two, one of whom foil dead beside
me.
Upon this we immediately scattered,
leaping tlie fences and taking to the
fields, each man acting tor himself.
Loading my goo, 1 ran forward ;
and, getting under coyer of some
bushes, I selected my man, and filed a
gain—tlie others generally acting ia the
same manner.
Thus, without concert, and without
any regular leader, we began a mode of
warfare be3t suited to our circumstan
ces and condition ; and which, during
that long, hot day—aud it was uncom
monly hot for the season— cost many a
soldier, the very flower of tlio British
army, his life.
I shall make no attempt to give you
a detailed account of that day's fight ;
in fact, I do not think I could if I
would ; for I am getting well advanced
in years now, and my memory is be
ginning to fail me. Indeed, so far as I
was concerned, it would only be a rep
etition of loading, getting n new posi
tion, firing, and keeping out of the way
of tie flanking parties—-which did all
in their power to protect the main
body—running down, shooting, and
bayonetting the provincials wherever
they could. Our men completely lined
the way of the retreating army—fired
from every bush, house,fence,or covert,
and even the open fields—and some
times maintained a running fight,
where the lmrrassrd enemy had a good
opportunity for pursuit.
From being in the rear, I gradually
made my way beyond the head of the
advanced column ; ami having secret
ed myself behind a large lock, I was
waiting for the n to come up to a cer
tain aim, when suddenly two soldiers,
who had been thrown forward as scouts,
approached me unperceiyed. The fust
intimation I had of their presence, was
by two shots, fired at a distance of less
than twenty yards—one ball passing
through my hat, and the other through
the fleshy part of my left arm, the scar
of which ! still retain.
By the time I had got upon my feet,
they were in the act of rushing upon
me with their bayonets, one a couple of
feet or so in advance of the other.
There was no time to he lost ; and tak
ing a rapid sight at the foremost,! pull
ed the trigger ; but, from some cause,
my gun for the first time that day miss
ed fire.
I was now so situated, with the rock
behiud me,it that was impossible forme
to escape ; and as my foes came bound
ing forward, with loud yell? and bitter
curses, I thought my last hour had
come.
As quick as lightning I cocked my
gun again and again pulled the trigger,
with the muzzle almost touching the
breast of the nearest.
This time, thank Heaven ! tlio piece
did its duty, and lodged tlie contents
in the very heart of my foe, who fell
back dead, without even a groan.
The next moment the bayonet of Lis
companion passed through my side,
with so much force as to drive me back
against the rock, inflicting a severe and
dangerous wound, and holding ine
completely in his power.
For a few moments I struggled to
extricate myself,but rapidly grew weak
and faint ; when, finding me sinking
to the earth, the soldier withdrew his
weapon and made another quick
thrust.
In his haste he missed me nearly al
together, but passed his bayonet
through my clothes, where it became
momentarily entangled.
[ Throwing down my gun and seizing
! his, I now feebly attempted to foil his
fell intent;but being the stronger of the
two, and himself unwounded, he fairly
tore the weapon from my grasp.
As, fairly foaming with wrath, he
drew back for the fatal lunge, a bullet
passed through his head, and he fell
dead at my side, I had only time to see
A PAP Kit FOR THE HOME CIRCLE
a friendly form hurrying up to me,
when I fainted and knew no more.
XV hen I recovered consciousness, I
found myself lying upon a bed, in the
house of a Samaiitun, and leai ned tha;
the British had been met at Lexington
by a largo reinforcement, and had ef
fected tbeii retreat to Chnrlestown, be
ing followed to the very Neck bv some
of cur men, and suffering continual
losses all the way.
I also learned that my good host was
the friend who had so providentially
come to my rescue. Being a little dis
tance behind me, lie had heard the fir
ing, and had hurried up just in time to
save me. Taking up my apparently
lifeless form, he had borne me bick
and secreted me in some bushes, stand
ing guard by me til! the enemy had
passed ; and then with the aid of some
friends, had carried tue to his own
house, about half a mile distant.
Here, under the best of care, I re
mained for teveral weeks ; and just as
1 bad once more begun to get abroad in
the fresh air, news came of the glor
ious battle of Bunker's Hill, and filled
me with new vigor and life.
A few days after, though still far
from c nnplete recovery, I joined the
army at Cambridge, and once more
took an active part iu that great and
righteous contest, whose glorious re
sults, my children, we all now enjoy.
NOTES AND COMMENTS.
CACKLING. —All eorts of incredible
stories are told of the ostrich farms of
California. The latest is that in the
morning,during laying time,if the wind
is in the right quarter, the cackling <>f
the hen ostrich can be heard at a dis
tance of forty miles. •
A BRIGAND. —Black Bart lias robbed
more than a score of stages in Califor
nia single handed. He had a habit of
writing doggerel verses and pinning
them to rifled express I sixes. The re
wards offered for his capture amounted
to nearly .815,0 X), and a stray bit of
hi* versification finally betiaycd him.
A BODY OF WATER.—When it is
considered that the Ohio drains a basin
of mote tii m two bundled thousand
square miles in area, and that the esti
mated weight of an inch of rain over a
single square mile is about sixty thou
sand tons, the mental effort to reckon
up the devastations wrought by tiie lat e
floods seems useless.
Too Much "Vim."
Riding on the cnr.s one day last
week, on one of the roads out of Chi
cago was a man, not yet in the prime
of life,so far as years go, but who \Va<
in his old age, so far as mental and
physical condition is to be considered.
He was what might be called a total
wreck in person and appearance. A
few years ago tiiis man was consider
ed one of the most promising young
business lneti in the city. lie was
full of getuptoitivness pluck, push aud
energy. But he lacked one thing
needful—caution. In an evil hour he
became excited in speculation, and for
a while he made money hand over
list. Everything he touched seemed
to turn to moncv. He finally sold
out his legitimate business and went
into speculation exclusively, lie bad
the finest of everything. But one day
stocks began to tumble. The man
knew what he was about ; invested
more and finally lie too, with his
stocks took a terrible tumble, and
when he looked about he found him
self a bankrupt. He was too proud
to take a clerkship, but pawned his
line clothes, jewelerv, etc., and took
to drink. The result of all of it is
that man to-day is deep down in the
mire of despondency, and the friends
he had in his prosperous days, those
who feasted at his expense, aud those
whom he had helped in time of need
only point their finger at him and
snecvinglv call him "the fool." Vim
and energy is a good thing. Ambi
tion and desire to better one's self is
an excellent trait in any man's compo
sition, but with these traits a young
man is very apt to get "rattled," if he
lets his ambition run away with com
mon sense or when he refuses to list
en to reason. A young horse gener
ally stands a better chance to win a
hurdle race than an old one, but in its
eagerness to jump the hurdle it often
breaks its neck. Better be a little old
and fogyish than to let reckless youth
run at will unbridled. Let well
enough alone, young man, and stick
to legimate business, and you will,un
der ordinary circumstances, come out
the winner. Young man,if you would
win a fortune,work and wait,but work
a good deal more than you wait.—
Peck's Si(7i.
Youug Warriors
j At the first battle of Bull Run
John Meigs, a son of General Meigs,
and a West Point cadet, seeing no
I ' o
generals about, assumed and for some
time directed the movement of the
troops, the officers supposed lie was
tiid-tle-eamp, and that the orders came
from the generals. Seeing the Con
federates massing in the wood to take
Green's Battery, Meigs ordered
Colonel Mathewson to move quietly
with his regiment to the support of
the battery. The movement was
promptly executed by the First Cali
lornia, and then two other regiments
were brought up. Later in the day
the youthful general, seeing the field
was lost, said to Colonel Mathewson :
"You had better fall back toward
Ccntcrville."
"And by whose authority do you
give me such orders as that?'' inquir
ed the colonel
"Well, sir," sani young Meigs, "the
truth is for the lust two hours / have
been unable to find anv generals, and
have been commanding myself."
I saw young Meigs on the field,
and ho was wounded through the
knee, but remained on duty, although
in terrible pain and faint from the
loss of blood. He was afterward kill
ed in the Shenadoah Valley.
In the First lowa there was a lit
tle mite of a drummer boy named Kd
ward or, as lie was more commonly
called, Eddie Lee. At Wilson's
Creek he had both feet shot off by a
cannon ball. A wounded Confeder
als,who was shot through the bowels
and lay near Eddie had taken off his
suspenders, and making of them liga
tures, tied up Eddie's stumps to stop
the flow of blood. During the night
the soldier died and Eddie lay on the
field all night beside him. In the
morning, as soon as it was light, the
First lowa were surprised
to hear Eddie's drum beating
the reveille down in a ravine. One
of the men,following the sound of the
drum, went to him and found the lit
tle fellow seated on the ground vigor
ously beating away, his drum fasten
ed to a bush by his side.
"Good morning, corporal," lie said;
"oh, get me some water, / am so
thirsty."
The corporal got the water, and
while lie was giving the boy a drink,
the Confederates came up and captur
ed them both. A horseman took Ed
die up tenderly before him and carried j
him to the Confederate camp, where '
his stumps were amputated and the !
wounds carefully dressed, but lie died
in a few hours after the operation was
performed.
BETRAYED BY BAD GRAMMAR.
"Three of these girls say they goto
school regularly," remarked Justice
Power in the Tombs police court the
other day, as four children were about
to step down. Agent Chiardi, who
had arrested the three as delinquents,
and the other for picking up bones,
took the fourth girl to one side and
said he "knew the others did not go to
school.
"Aren't they all together ?" asked
the court.
"No, sir," answered one of the trio.
"Us don't belong to she!"
"What ? The next girl who goes to
school!—was that , sentence correct ?"
"No, sir."
"What should she have said?"
"Her ain't one of we."
"Horrors! The next try it."
"She ben't one of us three."
The justice groaned and asked the
fourth girl to repeat the sentence. She
had said nothing about school, but she
replied, "She is not one of us."
"You arc discharged," said t he court
"The others will have a chance to study
in a reformatory."
HOUSES. —An idle team may be win
tered upon good hay alone, but when
lightly worked, a little grain at noon
may be needed. They are to be kept iu
good health and flesh, and the amount
of grain should be goyerued-accordlast
ly. Horses doing heavy work will need
a few quarts of ground oats and corn
daily, in addition to an abundance of
the best bay. Young colts should have
excellent care, for their future useful
ness depends largely upon the growth
they make the first winter. Linseed
oil Ciike in small doses is one of the
best remedies for costiveness in the
young farm animals.
Terms, SI.OO per Year, in Advance.
Secret of Sheridan's Luck.
How a Little Quaker Schoolma'am
Helped Him to Win Winchester.
1 saw by the Philadelphia papers the
other day that the Grand Army posts
in that city had given a reception to
Mrs. 11. M. Bonsai, and happening to
walk down the street with General
Sheridan, I asked him if he knew her.
"Do I know her ? he replied with a
surprised look on his face. "I should
say 1 did. That woman was worth a
whole brigade of soldiers and several
batteries of artillery down in the Win
chester campaign, and she was one of
the genuine heroines of the war." ,
"Tell me about her?''
"Well, you seel always believe in
lighting on information. People said I
was reckless and daring, and all that,
and when I happened to win a fight
they said it was Sheridan's luck. But
I tell.you there wasn't any luck about
it. I neyer went it blind. I always
knew what 1 was going to hit before I
made a strike, and generally tried to
strike at the right time."
"And down there in 'G4," continued
the general, "when 1 lay bfeore Win
chester I wanted information of what
was going on in the enemy's lines, and
I wanted it awful bad. I must have it,
don't you see, but how I was going to
get it I didn't know. Crook was pretty
well acquainted in all that country,and
one day 1 asked him if he didn't know
some one in Winchester we could de
pend on. He said there was a little
Quaker girl in the town that he
thought was all right, and I concluded
to try her. There was an old darkey
who had a garden patch about fifteen
miles from my headquarters, and he
had a pass to go into Winchester three
or four times a week with vegetables
for the Confederate olflcers and towns
people. I had hi in brougnt to my
headquarters one night and asked him
if he knew the schoolma'am. He said
he did,and then I asked him if he could
get a note to her without giving her a
way. He said he could, and then I
wrote her a letter on tissue paper, ap
pealing to her loyalty and requesting
her to give me some information of
what was going on in the rebel camp.
1 wrapped the note up in the foil, in a
little wad, dou't yon know, and made
the old darky carry it in his mouth.
The next day he went into town with a
load of vegetables and gave it to her."
"What was her name?"
"Rebecca Wright was her fiame then,
but she is married now and her hus
band's name is Bousal."
"Did you get an answer?"
"Yes, the darky brought me back a
reply in which she gave me some very
important information and promised to
send me more from time to time. We
kopt up a correspondence lifter that
ami I knew everything old Early was
doing. After a few weeks she sent me
word that Kershaw's division of 8,000 or
10,000 had been detached and was going
to join Lee's army. As soon as I learn
ed that lie was gone and was far
enough off to prevent his getting back,
1 made the attack and captured Win
chester."
"Did yon find the girl when you got
into town?"
"Indeed I did, and my report of that
battle was written in her school room."
"Was she ever rewarded?"
"Well, I got her a place in the treas
ury department, and it was there she
got acquainted with her husband, but I
think she is entitled to a pension."
A LOVE STORY.
A romance of A. T. Stewart's life is
told by tho New York coi respondent of
the Pittsburg Dispatch. About sixty
years ago Cornelia Clinch was one of
the prettiest girls of New York. Iler
father was a rich ship chandler who
lived in a big bouse in a fashionable
quarter. He was a self-made man and
thought every man ought to be the arch
itect of his own fortune. So he frown
ed away every wealthy young fop who
came to woo Cornelia, and sent her
regularly to school to learn to be a sen
sible, useful woman. Old Clinch atten
ded St. Mark's Church, and on Sunday
young Steward saw the daughter there.
He fell in love with her and became a
regular attendant at the church. He
got acquainted with Cornelia, and as
he was poor but industrious, the old
man smiled upon him and inyited him
to call and take dinner with them.
After awhile Steward asked Cornelia a
very interesting question, and she,like
a good girl, blushed and said:
"Y-e-e-s —if papa says so."
Then Steward visited old Clinch,and
he said:
"Want to marry Nelly, eh? Think
she's got a rich father,eh? Aud you'd
like to come in for a share of his earn
ings, eh?"
"No, sir, you needn't leave her or me
a cent.' I'll soon be richer than you
anyhow."
" You will, will you? Well, Hike that.
Go ahead and take her then, and Heav
en bless you both."
So the young folks, who were tre
mendously in love with^other,were mar
ried and went to live in a modest little
cottage on Reade street, and were .glad
to be able to cover the floor witli rag
carpet. There.it is said, they lived an
ideally happy life,
NO. 14-
NEWSPAPER LAWS.
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the bills ami ordered them discontinued.
If subscribers move toother places without in*
forming the publisher, and the newspapers ar
sent to the former place, they are responsible.
t—s--—-5 —-"-sswa-- —
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Jg ROCKER II OFF HOUSE, •
ALLEGHENY ST., BELLEFONTE, PA.
C. G. McMILLEN,
PROPRIETOR.
Good Sample Room on First Floor. Free
HUMS to and from all trains. Special rates to
witnesses and Jurors.
QUMMINS HOUSE, I
BISHOP STREET, BELLEFONTE, PA.,
EMANUEL BROWN,
PROPRIETOR.
House newly refitted and refuruisbed. Ev
erything done to make guests comfortable.
Rates moderate. Patronage respectfully solicl
ted. s*ly fjjj
JRVIN HOUSE, ~ I
(Most Central Hotel in the city.)
CORNER OF MAIN STREETS,
LOCK HAVEN, PA.
S. W OODS~CALD WELL I
PROPRIETOR.
Good Sample Rooms for Commercial Travel
ers on first floor
w. J. SPRINGER, ; | . HI
Fashionable Barber,
Next Poor to Journal Store, Main Street,
MILLIIEIM, PA.
lIIMOROIS.
"Let me dream again:" So you were
arrested and lined yesterday for being
drunk and dis orderly, and here you are
again to-day for the same offense! Pris
oner (who has been pumped on): Yes,
Judge, but can you arrest a man twice
on the same charge? Judge: Certainly
not. Prisoner: Then lemrne go, Judge,
this is the same old drunk!
She—"l think it's a sin and a shame
to kill the dear little feathered songs
ters. If I had my way I'd make a law
against killing birds. Guess people
wouldn't starve if they let the birds
aloue." He—"But what would the
ladies do without hat ornaments?" She
—"Oh, that's an entirely different
thing. Of course when there's an ac
tual necessity for shooting the dear
creatures one must stifle one's feelings,
you know."
A crowd of sitters were occupying
their usual positions in a grocery store
swapping stories, aud watching for a
chance to "catch" somebody, when
one of them carlessly remarked:
"It is a very high-toned affair."
"What is?" ;quickly interrogated a
young man from the suburbs.
"A thunder storm," was the reply.
The man who ,was caught merely
said: "oh," and congratulated himself
on the fact that lightning seldom
strikes twice in the same place.
A scientific doughnut maker:
"Bread!" exclaimed a Vasser College
girl. "Bread ! Well, I should say I
can make bread. We studied that in
our first year. You see, the yeast fer
ments, and the gas thus formed per
meates everywhere and transforms the
plastic material into a clearly obvious
atomic structure and then—" "But
what is the plastic material you speak
of ?" "Oh ! that is commonly called
the sponge." "But how do you make
the sponge ?"" Why, you don't make
it; the cook always attends to that.
Then we test the sponge with the ttaei
mometer and hydrometer and a lot of
other instruments, the names of which
I don't remember, and then hand it
back to the cook, and I don't know
what she does with it then, but when it
comes on the table it is just splendid."
Ten Million Oar Wheels.
"There are more than 10,000,000 iron
car wheels in use on American rail
roads," said the master mechanic of
one of the trunk lines, "and it requires
about 52-5 pounds of pig iron to make
one wheel. About 1,250,000 wheels are
worn out every year,and the same num
ber of new ones must be made to take
their places. The iron men are called
upon for only a small proportion of the
312,500 tons of material required for
these new wheels, however, for nearly
290,000 tons are supplied by the worn
out wheels themselves. Formerly the
life of a car wheel was estimated at
eight yeais, but the reduction of the
railroad generally to the standard guage
and the improvements in loading aud
unloading facilities,have materially de
creased the length of service that a
wheel may be depended on to perform.
The uniformity in gauge keeps cars in
more continuous use,while the decrease
in time of loading and unloading en
ables them to be put to more active
service even where they are run only
on short local routes.
"These figures do not include the
wheels on palace c 3 aches and the betfc
class of passenger coaches. The wheels
on the grade of rolling stock are now
made almost exclusively of paper. They
are as servicable as iron, and combine
lightness with strength a gieat desider
atum where speed and ecootmy in mo
tive power are of paramount import
i ance."
•B ' *-&&&> JIIUB