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VOL. 59.
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MILLHEIM, PA., THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 5. 1885.
A IJTKKAKY EFFORT.
•Arc you satislh* 1, my daughter V'
'More than .satisfied, papa.'
'ls it all your fai cv painted it ?'
'Beyond anything I ever dreamed of;
indeed I nevei imagined that we should
have such a beautiful home.'
'Then, my dear, 1 hope that you will
lie inclined to favor my wishes, in re
turn for what I have done to please
you. I have spared no expense in try
ing to make your home everything that
the most fastidious taste could demand
and I trust that you will not refuse
some concession to my—whims,perhaps
you will call them.'
'What is it you desire, papa ?'
'Nellie, I have given you every ad
vantage in regard to education—hive
tried to make you a cultivated and ac
complished woman—and now I do not
want to see you throw yourself away
upon any one who cannot appreciate
you. In simple words, I want a clever
son in-law—a man able to write a good
essay, or poem, or paint a picture wor
thy of notice and admiration.'
'Hut, papa, I love Charley, and he
loves me.'
'Yes, my child, I suppose so ; but
you are both very young, and have seen
little of the world. He did very well
when we were plain, simple people, liv
ing in the country ; but now it is quite
different thing. We live in another
world altogether. I do not demand
money with your future husband - I
have enough for all concerned—but tal
ent 1 do require.'
'Oh, papa, I cannot give up Charley !
Where shall I find another like him V
—so good, and kind, and devoted V
'Thousands of them,my dear—thous
ands of them. lie may not prove any
better husdatul for being so devoted
now. Matrimony is the thing that
tries men's souls—and constancy.'
'I do not believe that Charley w ill de
ceive me—and he loved me too before we
were rich. We never shall know,when
a new lover comes, whether it is my
self or my monei he cares for.'
'Oil, well, my dear, young men are
not all mercenary. There are plenty
of fine, young ft llows, ready to love
you for your own sweet self.'
'Perhaps Charley can write !' mused
Nellie. 'lie never has tried, I know,
and he may be a great genius without
suspecting it. lam sure that he is
clever enough to do almost anything.'
'Geniuses do not live to bo t wenty
live years old without suspecting their
own powers. Tiie trouble is generally
that they are too eager to suspect them.
Hut I promise you this, my daughter :
If Charley can paint a good picture, or
furnish a successful article for the pa
per, I will consent to the match.'
'Oh, Charlie,' the young girl said to
her lover that night, 'can't you paint a
picture ?'
'Paint a picture, Nell ! Are you
crazy V
'No, dear—but papa is—or else be
lias got a new hobby, which comes to
nearly the same thing. I suppose he is
aesthetic, and I think it is just awful.
Hut now, dear, don't you think that
you could paint something V
'Nellie, why don't vou ssk me if I
can fly ? - like a bat, or a wing'd-squ:r
rel ?'
'Hut every one paints now.'
'lndeed ! llow do they do it V'
'They just buy paints, and brushes,
and paletts, and take one or two less
ons, and then they are ready to exhibit
their plates, tiles, and so on. It is
just as easy ! You can paint any
thing you choose—birds, fishes, cranes
—on one leg or two, just as you please
—or little, uncertain landscapes. Ev
ery body does it—children, grown peo
ple, and grandmammas. And they all
do it alike, pretty much—for I can see
scarcely any difference in then - lit tie
dauby things.'
'There is no use talking about it,
Nell. I could not paint one of your
little, dauby things if I took lessons
six years.'
Then you must write something. I
know by your forhead that vou have
latent talent, which only needs devel
opment."
'My deir Nell, all the development
in the world would never bring out
any talent in ray c ise. I hope that I
have good, common-sense—but clever
ness don't run in the Barrett family.'
'But, Charly, you must ejther paint a
picture 01 write a talented article !'
'My darling, lam afraid that you
are touched here—just a little, you
know and he laid his linger on her
white forehead with an air of such
deep concern that she butst into a fit
of laughter, in which he quickly joined-
As soon as she could speak, sho told
him what her father required, and was
surprised to see how gravely he took it.
'Why, how serious you do look !'
she exclaimed.
'lt is a pretty serious affair, I should
think !' he leplied. 'To lose you '
. 'But you are not going to lose me.
A PAPER FO'lt THE HOME CIRCLE
You will writs an aiticle for the paper
n successful one, too.'
'Nellie, I t"ll you again, dear, that I
have ut> literary talent whatever. It
has been pretty hard sometimes even to
write letters to you, whoin I love hot
ter than all the world. How then
could 1 write a successful story V
'Couldn't yon write a pretty poem
then ?'
'Horrible! Ask me something rea
sonable -to swim a thousand miles, or
killlialfadoy.ru tigers—but write a
poem ! Good heavens, Nell, it's e
nough to make a poor fellow commit
suicide! I could no mike a rhyme
to save my life—or even your lite, dar
ling.'
'Now it can pot be so very hard ! A
little poem upon spring, for instance,to
begin with. Something about bud
ding leaves, and perfumes of the sod,
and young men's hopes, and aching
voids, and all that sort of thing.'
-It gives me an aching void to think
of it 1 And the rhymes! Oh, Nell !
the rhymes !'
'Take a dictionary—some poets do
that. Find a number of appropriate
words to rliymo in pairs, put them
down on the paper, and then write up
to them.'
'But where does the sentiment come
in V
'()! i, that must work in of itself.'
'lt is a hopeless case, darling. I am
very sorry that I am not a genius—but
nature did not make me one,you know.
And a poem ? Oh, it's fearful !'
'A story then, Charley—you surely
could write a story ?'
'Stories must have plots, Nell, and
plots do reqiurp some Imagination."
'But cau't you tell something that
has h ipper.ed to your friends ? Truth
is stranger than fiction, you know.'
'Farmers' boys are not apt to have
many adventures, Nell. My friends in
the country did nothing more romantic
than digging turnips and potatoes.'
'But did you never have any thrill
ing experiences yourself, Charley ?'
'This is the most thitiling experience
in mv life, and 1 hope that it will be
the last one of that nature.'
'Perhaps you had better try an es
say ?'
'Jerusalem !'
'Charles Bayrett, if you GET PO near
to swearing as that, I shall leave the
room !'
'Forgive me, Nell ; but will you tell
me what subject you would suggest
for that—that—essay ?'
'Something metaphysical of course—
' Persistence of Force,' 'Pelativity of
Knowledge,'—something profound,you
see. I always did think that you had a
kind of metaphysical look about your
forehead.'
'Will you tell me what kind of a look
that is?' he asked going to the glass,and
examining his face with a somewhat
anxious expression.
'Well,' answered Nellie, 'it is a sort
of misty '
'OJi, no, dear—not so bad as that, I
hope !'
'Well, I wish you would not take me
up so quickly !'
'Oh, Nellie. I am an idiot—that is
the truth—but it cannot be helped.'
'lt must be helped, or we shall be
separated forever.'
'Let's run away, and get married !'
'No. I cannot do that—papa has been
too giod and kind. It would break his
heart. I could not be so ungrateful,
after all that he has done to make me
happy. Chnrley,you will have to write
a story,because that will b2 the easiest.
Co home now, and think harder than
you ever did before, and the ideas must
come. Remember that our happiness
is at stake."
Poor Charley went home in a desper
ate state of mind. After he had reach
ed his room, he locked his door, took
oil his coat, that he might breathe
more freely, lighted his meershaum,
placed a sheet of c'ean, white paper be
fore him, sharpened his pencil to the
finest point, and then knocked his head
violently in hope 3 that wit would come
After looking at the paper wistfully for
about ten minutes, a brilliant idea al
most took his breath away, and he
wrote quickly,for fear that it might es
cape as suddenly as it came.
'There was once a young and very
beautiful girl.'
But after writing that he stopped
short, and again waited patiently for
further inspiration. It did not come ;
and, throwing down his pen in disgust,
he cried:
The old man is crazy, and I am an
idiot: I'll go to bed !' which ho accord
ingly did ; and iu a few minutes was
sound asleep, literary efforts having ex
hausted him completely.
In the morning he woke up with that
uncomfortable feeling that we have at
times of something very disagreeable
awaiting us ; and after a few moments
he sprung from the bed exclaiming :
'lt is that confounded story.l wonder
if I can do anything this morning.'
Dressing himself quickly, he again
seated himself resignedly, and after
looking at the paper a short time, he
went to woik, anil absolutely wrote one
whole page.
lie was triumphant, and b >gan to
think that lie might have mistaken his
own powers after all.
'l'll take it to Nell after breakfast,'
he said, 'and let her read it It is not
such a bad beginning, I am sure.'
S>, with a more hopeful countenance
he ate his breakfast, and then started
off to show his liist effort to Nellie.
Iler face beamed as she took the paper;
but after reading a few words, she
looked up inquiringly.
'Eyes as blue as spring, Charley ?
What special part of spring did you
mean dear V'
'Skies, of course. Voir didn't sup
pose I meant grass and leaves,did you ?
I hate green eyes 1'
'Then let me put in skies. Iler lux
uriant yellow hair hung in heavy mass
es down to her heels !' Goodness !' you
wouldn't have her go round the streets
with her hair hanging down to her
heels ? llow she would look 1'
'lt would be splendid ! And see
here, Nell, if you're going to criticise
me in that way, it's a little too much.
1 don't believe you could do any better
yourself.'
'Perhaps not ; but I should know e
nough of ordinary propriety not to let
a young woman go marching round the
city with her saudy hair dangling down
to her heels.'
'I did not say anything about her
marching through the city. And I tell
you that I'll not try to write if you
make fun of me in that way. Sitting
up half the night to write a stoiy, just
because your father is such and old '
'Stop, Charles Barrett, right off !
I'll not have my dear good father abus
ed ; and if you're so awfully stupid
that you cannot even write '
'Yes, yes —now abuse me, because
I'm not another Bulwer or Dickens !
I'll go home,and you may fiod another,
and more clever '
lie had almost reached the door,
when Nellie sprung after him, and,
throwing her arms around his neck,
begged bis forgiveness in away that
would have melted the heart of Diog
enes himself.
Of course Charles capitulated imme
diately ; and a little o3culatory perfor
mance was gone through with, which
seemed to lie wondei fully soothiug to
both parties.
Then they went back to the story,
and Nellie continued :
''She was called Violotta, becauss
her eyes wore like the summer violets.'
lint, Ctiarley, dear, aren't we mixing
up the'seasons a little ? Just now yuu
said her eyes were like spring.'
'Well, erase it. if you choose —only
there'll be another space to fill up.'
'Say that they called her Violetta,
because her eyes were so blue. That
will take up nearly as much room.
'She was gentle,tender, docile and sub
missive.' Now, Charley, you need not
imagine that I am going to be so terri
bly submissive. I have a mind of my
own.'
'But I was not thinking of you.'
'Who were you thinking of then, I
Should like to know V 1
'Violetta, of course.'
'Oh, yes. I suppose heroines must be
docile and suhini ssive, unlees they are
regular shrews. But I cio like to see
women with a little spirit. 'She wore
a simple white muslin (that everlasting
white muslin ! she thought),with rose
buds fastened in her hair.'. But you
know she could not fasten 11 nvers in
her hair, unless it was braided, or tied
up in some way ! Braid it up ; won't
you, Charley ?'
'Now, my dear, if you are going to
alter eyerthing just as fast as I write it
1 may as well stop where I am."
At this Nellie finished the page with
out further suggestions ; but when he
had given her his twentieth good bye
kiss,she looked up in his face and whis
pered coaxingly :
'Braid up Violetta'* hair ; won't you
uear V
'Confound that girl's hair ! DJ it
any way you please. Braid it, bang it,
dye it—do what you choose—only
don't let ns have any more quarrels.'
And as Nellie went to her room af
terwards, she laughed to herself as she
repeated :
4 'Hair hanging down to her heels.'
llow slib would look ! It is just like a
man. It makes me think of the shav
ings I used to fasten on my head when
I was a little girl. Boor Charley lit is
hard for him ; but he will do it, I
know.'
And indeed it was hard for the poor
fellow. He never woiked so indefatlg
ably in all his life. He absolutely
grew thin over that article. But he
finished it at last. It certainly was a
very remarkable story. The plot was
quite equal to the details. The expen
sive and elaborate toilettes in which
Violetta indulged, would have ruined a
; first-class actress ; and the minuteness
with which each sash, ribbon and but
ton was described might have immor-
tali zed some disciple of Worth himself;
Terms, SI.OO per Year, in Advance.
but, as bo said, it helped to ii'.l up the
pages, which of course was the main
thing.
'You arc not going to kill Violetta,
are you, Charley ?' Nellie inquired,
one day, with evident concern.
'Kill her V ho repeated, savagely ;
'indeed I do intend it ! I should like to
stab her—poison her—torture her in
the most horrible manner—in return
for all the misoiy she has occasioned
me.'
'Oh, I would not kill her ! People al
ways take to have stories end well.'
'Nellie, I must have my own way in
this—for it will be the only satisfact
ion that I can have in the whole thing !
And it must be no easy death cither 1
I read once of a woman who was wall
ed up to her throat, and then left to
perish. If I could think of something
equally horrible I should begin to con
sider myself quite a genius.'
And he did kill Violetta, sure e
nough ; but he compromised with
Nellie, and allowed her to die respecta
bly and comfortably in her bed, with
her disconsolate friend weeping in a
circle around her.
When it was all finished, he literally
danced for joy.
Then he took it to his loving critic,
who copied it very neatly and eligibly,
making some discreet alterations, es
pecially in regard to the stupendous
toilettes, as she termed them.
'Now, Charley,' she said, 'it is ivery
nice, and will be a success, lam sure.
Where do you intend to take it ?'
'I shall take it to Rob Ilunter, who
has charge ot the story-department
of his paper ; and he will accept it, I
think. If he demurs at all, I shall
offer him fifty dollars to publish it.'
'Hut isn't that rather an unusual
proceeding, Charley ?'
'Well, this 5s an unusual story, you
know, and we cannot expect to make
our arrangements in the otdinary way
enliiely.
However, the desired object was ac
complished ; and then Nellie went to a
friend, in another editorial ofiice, and
asked her to copy the sketch, and to
try to get it copied by some Gther pa
pers also.
'But, Nellie,' said the lady, 'this is
not a striking effort. Did one of your
friends write it V
'Yes,'she answered, with a blush ;
and then she told the circumstances,
fully and frankly.
'Well, I will copy it.,' was the good
natured reply; 'but, if I were you, I
would advise Mr. Barrett not to write
anything more of the kind.'
'No fear of that,' she answered, with
a merry laugh.
The story being copied into the two
papers, Nellie took them all to her
father, who examined them very care
fully,but with a somewhat dubi jus ex
pression upon his face.
'Yes, daughter,' lie said,'this seems
a very successful story ; but if I were
Charley, I would not try another, be
cause he might not be as successful a
second time.'
He always felt that he had been
slightly imposed upon ; but when he
saw what a good,kind'husband Charley
was,and how happy lie made Nellie,the
old gentli man gradually became recon
ciled.
And when his little grandchild, at
the early ege of live years, absolutely
coui|)osed four lines of'poetry, he was
convinced that a genius had at last
been born to them, and his happiness
knew no bounds.
Popping Corn.
And there they sat a popping corn,
John Stiles and Susan Cutter, John
Stiles as fat as any ox, and Susan fat
as butter. And there they sat and
shelled the corn, and raked and stirred
the fire, and talked of different kinds of
ears, and hitched their chairs up uigb
cr. Then Sunsan, the popper shook,
and John he shook the popper, till
both their faces grew as red as sauce
pan madt of copper. And they shelled,
and popped, and ate, all kinds of fun
in poking, and he haw-hawed at her
remarks,and she laughed at his joking.
And still ttey popped, and still they
ate; John's mouth was like a hopper,
and stirred the fire and sprinkled salt,
and shook and shook the popper. The
clock struck nine and then struck ten,
and still the corn kept popping ; it
struck eleven—then struck twelve,and
still'nosign of stopping. And John
he ate, and Susan thought—the corn
did pop and patter; till he cried out:
"The corn's afire ! Why,Susan,what's
the matter ?" Said she.* "John
Stiles, it's one o'clock; You'll die of in
digestion; I'm sick of all this popping
corn—Why don't you pop the ques
tion ?"
It takes twenty-six years for a man
to become a physician iu Germany. It
takes a good deal longer than that for
some in this country to become phys
icians.
NO. TF.
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e.". 11 11 1 ■ 11 i.
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al Insertion
A New Crime Under tne bun.
When old Andcison Brumley an
nounced himself as candidate for jus
tice of the peace, the people of Back
Short township felt that the time when
they were to have an able and upright
administration of judicial affairs had
arrived. Old Brumley had never open
ed a law book; therefore he was regard
ed as honest. He had never hesitated
to take off his coat aud fight the best
man in the neighborhood ; therefore he
was considered able. lie had never
been backward in denouncing his ene
mies; consequently he was regarded as
a citizen of wisdom. With these ac
complishments, his election, in the ex
pressive parlance of politics, was a
"walk over." Shortly after Brumley
took his seat on the red oak woolsack,
a man named Billy Malone was arrest
f d for stealing a grindstone.
'This here is a mighty important
case,' said the magistrate, when the
culprit had been arraigned before court.
In lookin' oyer these here law books, I
don't find no mention of griud-stones.
It was a big oversight ir our legislature
not Ito put down grind-stones in the
books, fur it mout have been knowed
that some blamed lascal in this part o'
the state was agoin' to steal one. Fo'ks
in this here part of the country, let me
tell you, will steal anything. Wa'al in
the absence o' any statuary burin' on
tire subjeck, reckon I'll "make this here
charge manslaughter in the [first de
gree.'
'Your honor,' said a lawyer, 'that
would be impossible.'
'Would it V Wa'al I'll jes show you
I'm running this here court.'
'Your honor—'
'Call me jedge, if you please.'
'Well, judge, there is no such thing
as manslaughter in the first degree.'
'Ain't thar ?' Well,l'll jes show you
I'm running this here court. Prisoner
at the bar, 1 have longed fur a opportu
nity o' teach in' a lesson to the risin'
generation. You have given me that
chance. I don't delight in seein' a
man fall from grace, but when he does
fall, thar ain't nothiu' that pleases me
so much as to tangle my hand in the
ruffles o' his calico shirt. Manslaughter
is a mighty serious charge, young fel
ler.'
'I ain't slaughtered no man, yit,
jedge.'
'Shet your mouth, impudent violater
o' the sacred law o' the land. No mat
ter what you done, an' when a man dis
putes my word, w'y he'd better wish
that his bones was made outeu Injun
rubber an 1 his back kivered with the
skin o' a yalligator. Young outniger
o' the principles o' civilization, for this
great crime of manslaughter in the fust
degree, I sentences you to be hung next
Friday.'
'Judge,' exclaimed the lawyer,spring
ing to his feet, 'this proceeding is im
possible.'
'ls it ? Wa'al I'll jest show you I'm
runnin' this court. When you get to
be a jedge, I won't come aroun' tellin'
you what you can do an' what you
can't.'
'Great Caesar,judge, such a course
as you are taking is a violation of the
State Constitution.'
'lt it ? Wa'al I'll jes repeal the State
Constitution right here. This feller
oughter be hung, an' if I had catch him
ten days ago, whuther or not he had
committed manslaughter in the fust
degree or stol<? a grind-stone in the sec
ond, which is the came, I wuld have
sentenced him to be hung. Mr. Consta
ble take charge o' this man,an' see that
he is hung up in a respectable manner.
Any lawyer what don't wanter be sarv
ed in the same way had better keep his
mouth shet. I'm ruuhin' this court.'
A Frightened Lark.
We can vouch for the accuracy of
the following very unusual circum
stance : While Mr. Alexander Shaw
was in the fields the other day he
heard cries of a bird apparently in dis
tress. Looking up he saw a lark hot
ly pursued by a hawk, which, by a
series of fierce dashes, tried to secure
his prey; but the lark was successful
in evading the attacks. The hawk,
however, was gaining the mastery,
and the lark, terror-struck, seeing t,he
man below, came down like an arrow
and fluttered actually into his hand,
w here it cowered trembling. The pur
suer followed until within six yards,
but seeing what had occurred it flew
off in disgust.
u 0
The circumstance is remarkable as
showing the how greater terror con
quered the less, the instinct of preser
vation in the bird triumphing over its
natural timidity.— Elgin [Scotland]
Courant.
Strangers are surprised .to see New
Oil ans policemen in full uniform
drinking at beer bars with hoodlums
and smoking cigars on their beats while
on duty. The New York policeman
sneaks around to a back door to get his
smoke and drink; but he has some style
about him when he walks his beat.