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VOL. 59.
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TERMS OASH!
ON A GATE POST.
CHARTER 1.
Ambrose Net'lesou baa what be
tbinks ia a valuable manuscript. He
thinks Sc, doubtless, because it records
a part of his life. One night recently,
while I was at bis bouse, bo brought
out the manuscript and read it to me.
Although I did not ask permission, vet
Ido not feel that I violate bis confi
dence by giving, as nearly as I can re
member, the contents of the paper
which lie treasures with such affec
tion :
The prospect was not cheerful. I
was riding a horse across a country
whose loneliness was rs deep as a sigh
which bespeaks the long absence of
someone. Night was coining on and
a storm was gathering its forces. A
frightened owl flitted past me, scream
ing in my face. The time of year was
when nature hesitates whether to con
tinue winter or begin spiing. My
horse almost shook me off when he
stopped and shivered. The owl scream
ed In my face again. Head leaves, for
a moment would whirl before me, and
then fall, scattered and torn as though
they had, by an angry hand,been swept
from their long, damp rest, only to be
mocked. "What a dreary, dreary
place it is 1" I mused. "I feel as
though something terrible is goiug to
happen. The air, just before the great
agitation which must come, seems
quivering in its desire to bear the
sound of murder, murder 1 As I live
yonder is a light. Is it possible that I
shall receive shelter ?"
Urging my horse forward, I soon
reached a small liouss, near the sum
mit of a desolate peak, overlooking the
Arkansaw river. I dismounted near
the door—there was no fence around
the bouse. My horse looked appealing
ly at me and without asking permis
sion from any one within, I led the an
imal to a stable close at hand, took off
saddle and bridle. As I was returning,
the storm burst upon the river. When
I approached the door, I heard a wail.
I knocked and heard the wail coming
slowly toward me. The door was o
pened by a girl scarcely more than
twelve years old. Her face was the
picture of despair. She said nothing,
but pointed io a bed, upon which lay
au old man, gaspiug for breath. Ap
proaching him, I saw that he had but a
few moments to live. The girl knelt
beside the old man. lie tried to put
his hand upon her head. Failing, he
looked at me and I assisted him lie
tried to speak, but could not. The
girl sobbed frantically. The rain pour
ed down and the storm shook the
house.
"lie will never get well I l ' she cried.
"My graudpa will die."
Yes, her grandpa would die. Ilis
life had already passed away. The
hand lying on her head was growing
cold. She looked at him and shrieked.
What a night we spent in that house.
The storm howled and the rain fell un
til nearly daylight. The girl, who I
saw was intelligent, with an impres
sive face, said that her name was Mun
ette Loggeraon, and that since her ear
liest recollection she had lived with the
old man who had spent the most of his
time, since she had begun to talk, in
teaching her.
"I have no relatives," she said in
answer to a question.
"Any friends f"
"No friends."
"You have neighbors ?"
"None. The nearest house is near ly
eight miles away."
I knew not what to do. Surely the
situation was serious. Early at morn
ing, we buried the old man in the yard.
As best I could, I made a coilin of a
trough which I found in the stable.
After the burial, I went on and found
enough corn for my horse. I left Mu
nette at the grave, on which she had,
sobbing bitterly, thrown herself.
"Where are you going, little girl ?"
I asked when I returned, still finding
her on the grave.
"llow can I go anywhere V" she ask
ed. "I have no friends, I told you."
"You cannot remain here."
"I cannot go away."
"1 will not leave you here. You
must go with me. My mother has no
little girl. She will receive you."
Still lying on the grave, and without
looking up, she replied :
"I will go and work for my board."
"You will not have to work. When
I tell my mother of the circumstances
under which I found you, she will take
you in her arms. Come, get your
clothes. It is time we were leaving
here. See, the sun is shining beauti
fully. It is a new dav for you."
Without replying,she arose and turn
ed toward me. Her face, even aside
from her grief, was so sad, and her eyes
wore a look of such tender appeal that
even though sin had relatives I would
haye thought it my duty to take her
home with me. She went Into the
MILLIIEIM, PA., THURSDAY, APRIL 2., 1885.
A PAPER FOR THE HOME CIRCLE.
house and soon returned with a stuulj
bundle.
"I Inven't much to take," she said.
"Grandpa and I were very poor, and
you see, having inherited his poverty, I
am pooier than ever."
I was not surprised to hear her make
such a remark, for I had discovered
that she had never associated with chil
dren,and was consequently wise for her
age.
"You shall have some nice dresses
after while," I replied.
"Pretty red ones V"
The child was asserting itself.
"Yes, and blue onesu '
She wept anew as we mounted the
hoise—she seated behind me. As long
as we were within sight of the house
she said nothing, but when we had de
scended into the thick woods, she
said :
"I won't cry any more if I can help
it."
"Your grandfather must have been
good to you ?"
"Yes, but he made me read many
booka that were very dull—great law
books. I don't like tbein. His eyes
for many years have been so bad that I
had to do all his reading for him. He
wrote a book full of awful curious
things and murders, but one day when
he found me reading it he took it away
from me and but ned it up. It must
have been bad, and be must have been
sorry that he wrote it."
The day passed rather pleasantly,
with the exception of the influence of
the night before, which naturally e
rough she could not dispel and which
I could not keep from arising occasion
ally. We sat on a log and ate dinner,
and Munette's remarks gave me addi
tional insight into her close habit
of observation. When evening came
we stopped at a farm-house, where the
sad story of the little girl awoke sueh
sympathy that the kind-hearted house
wife begged me to allow the child to
remain with her.
"It is a question that she must de
cide." I rejoined. "What do you say,
Munnette ?"
"I am surprised that you should ask
me such a ques ion," she replied, ap
proaching the /hair where I sat and
taking my hand. ''Would it not be
ungrateful in me to desert you so soou,
or to ever desert you
"She's got more sense than an old
womaD right now," said the host, ad
dressing his wife. "Our twenty-eight
year-old daughter that married last
month ain't a patchin' to this girl."
"W'y, jespeison,*' said his wife, in
mild censure, "Margaret ain't twenty
eight years old."
"She's mighty nigh it."
"An' beside that," continued the
woman, "she never had no chance."
"Didn't go to school three months
outen nearly every year, eh ? What
show does a gal want, I'd like to
know ? This little creetur, I warraut
you never has been to school."
"Oh, yes, sir. My whole life has
been a school. The old house where I
used to live contains many books. If
you want them you may go there and
get them. I shall never go after them,
I could never read them again."
"Well, blame my buttons if I don't
mosy up that way. I ain't m-uch of a
scholar, but I reckon I can worry
through with a lot of them."
CHAPTER 11.
My mother welcomed Munnette, and
when I related the sad story of how I
found her, the sympathetic woman
took the child in her arras and kissed
her. A few days afterward, when I re*
turned home after a short absence, she
flashed upon me in a gay red dress.
She was more of a child than I had e
ver seen her—more so than I had
thought it possible for her to become.
My mother was delighted to see her in
nocent pranks,and I, for the first time,
kissed the child.
"You have kissed me at last," she
said. "Is it becausj I look better in
this dress ?"
"It is because you look more like a
child Before, you reminded me so
much of a woman."
"Do not women like to be kiSHed ?"
1 laughed and my mother, shaking
her head -I can see her gray hair now
—said ; "Ah, Ambrose, our young
girl has a yery old head."
We sent Munnette to school. The
teacher, a man who had the reputation
of being profound, met me one day aud
said :
"Munnette is the most remarkable
child I ever saw. She has read so
many books and makes me such wise
observations that I am constantly sur
prised. To tell you the truth, I can-
I uot advance her. Not that I am not
intellectually able—but er—because I
do not think that at her age it would
ibe safe. Therefore I would advise you
to take her from school. I know the
| effect that too much learning has on
! youth. I know how narrowly I esoap
' ed."
When I spoke to Munnette, she said;
"That school is a very dull place. It
is a constant hum of arithmetic. I
don't like to cipher, as the children call
it. Fractions make my head ache and
miscellaneous examples make me sick.
Let me study at home."
I took her from school. She was a
devoted student, hut waa never so ab
sorbed that she was oblivious to the lit
tle attentions which a woman of my
mother's age prizes so highly. Mun
ette grow rapidly and I was pleased to
see that she was daily becoming more
graceful.
CHATTER 111.
The war came on. How natural it
is in writing a story, to say 'The war
came, on but this is not a story, and
nothing can be more natural than
truth—although it is said to be stran
ger than fiction. Therefore, when I
say that the war came on, I intend
that the declaration should have its
full meaning. I left home full of
pride. I was captain. My mother
prayed : but Muunette did not seem
to be very much affected. "Good bye,"
she said. "War is one of the incidents
of civilization, as well as a feature of
barbarity. I know that you will do
your duty, and that you will not for
get the little girl whom you once saw
sobbing under the hand of a dying
man. When you return. I shall be old
enough to kiss you."
I looked at her in astonishment.
Merriment sparkled in her eyes.
"You don't like to kiss children, it
seems."
"Munette, you are strange. I once
said that I did not kiss you because
you looked like a woman."
"Oh, yes, that is true. I thought
that you did not want to kiss me be
cause I was so small. There, now,cap
tain don't swell up like a toad."
I turned away. She called me when
I was about a hundred yarus away and
said : "When you pass the big gate,
look 011 the right hand post "
I did so and found the words,"l love
you." Under this I wrote, "And I
love you."
I aid not receive but one letter from
Munette, and that might just as well
have been written by a professor of
geology, for its four pages were devoted
to a desoription of a lot of pebbles she
had found in a cave.
I returned home ragged and ill. Mu
nette was delighted to see me. She
was so peculiar, though, that 1 could
not tell whetfter or not she still loved
me. It seemed that she did not, for
whenever I attempted to remind her
of it, she changed the subject. Like
all true loyers, 1 felt that without her
mv life would be abl ink. I spoke to
my mother concerning my trouble.
"She is a very strange girl, but I al
ways found her frank, except when I
asked her if she loved you, and s e re
pli< d that the hawks had carried off
three of the domiuicker hen's chick
ens."
One day, in passing tbe gate, I wrote
on the post the following :
"Will you marry me ?"
Two days afterward I visited the
place and found the word "yes."
Without further communication, ex
cept to appoint the time by "post,"
we were married. I did not find her
disposition to be peculiar, only in the
intensity of her love for me. "Why
did you treat me so ?" I one day ask
ed her.
"The dominicker has a great deal of
trouble with her chickens,"she replied.
Shortly afterward, when she thought
that I was not looking, she threw back
her head and laughed.— Arkansaw
Traveler.
Strango Freaks of Lightning.
Mrs. Gesner, who lives in a two
story frame house at Nanuet, Rock
land Co., N. Y., was sitting in her
kitchen with her babe in her lap one
evening recently when a heayy thun
derstorm struck the town. While
watching the lightning which flashed
into the room through the windows,
a ball of fire suddenly appeared in
I front of the stove close to her feet.
The ball was a vivid brilliancy, and
made a noise like Ja humming fop.
Mrs. Gesner did not move, although
thoroughly lrightened. A moment
later the ball exploded with a slight
report, but did no injury either to the
mother or her child or the furniture
in the room. In a room on the next
floor, however, Mrs. Gesner found
that a mirror stand bad been shatter
ed. Several persons who visited the
house the next day and made an ex
amination of the place were unable to
find where the ball had entered the
building. It is supposed that it came
down the stove pipe.
SUBSCRIBE for the JOURNAL.
Terms, SI.OO per Year, in Advance.
AN ARMLEbS LADY'S WAY.
Deprived of Arms, but Not a
Helpless Woman.
How Sho Threads a Needle, Writes
ana Eats by the Aid of her Toes.
"Now, let me show you what I can
do; dinuer'll le here in just a mo
ment. Thread a needle ? Of course I
can ; see V" and suiting the action to
the word, Mrs. Thompson picked up a
fine needle with the large and second
toe of the right foot, held it tightly be
tween the tips and, taking some yarn
in her left foot, lolled the end deftly on
a small smooth stone, put it in ter
mouth by bending her body almost
double and deftly inserted the yarn in
the needle, more easily than a bachelor
threads u large needle with a very fine
thread. Next she took a handsome ti
dy on which she was crocheting and
with remarkable deftness held tbe work
with her right foot, while with her left
she guided the needle in and out,catch
ing the thread with ease and fashioning
the figure as fast as "my lady" in the
sittingroora does with her soft hands.
Her right eye giving her some trouble
during this work, she deftly pushed
back the spectacles which she wore and
with the second toe rubbed the eyelid.
Then she bent forward and brushed
back a few stray hairs from her fore
head. Taking up the pen between the
large and second toe of her left foot,
and holding a slip of paper with her
right toes, she wrote in a feminine
hand, small and rather neat : "He
that lends to all shows good will but
little sense. Ann E. L. Thompß3n.
Born witnout arms, December 23. 1939.
Ga." This written, she put the pen
down, took up a blotter with her left
foot, placed it over the "writing and
dried the ink. Taking up a pair of
large scissors with the large and third
toe of the left foot she cleverly cut off
the portion ot the piper on which she
had written.
"Here comes my dinner. Now you
can see me eat—not that it's such a
sight,but you may find it odd to see one
eat with toes instead of fingers."
Mr. Thompson spread out a napkin
on the platform, and placed on it the
dinner of a person in good health.
Mrs. Thompson turned around in her
seat, took up a cup of tea in her foot,
stirred it up with a spoon held in her
right toes, and half bending, half rais
ing the cup to her lips, drank off the
tea and placed the cup on the platform.
Then she grasped a flat handled silver
I<> ife In her left toes, caught a fork be
tween the first two toes of herrightfoot
and cut some steak into pieces. Part
of it was tough, but she had no more
trouble in cutting it than an ordinary
person would have, A piece of meat
held on the fork was transferred to her
mouth and was followed by a piece of
bread broken from a slice by her large
and second toes.
As soon as she had finished this nov
el meal Mrs. Thompson continued : "I
forgot to tell you about my schooling.
Oh, yes, I went to school. The pupils
were and and I had a little raised plat
form for my use. I held my books in
my toes and read and studied as well
as the rest of the girls. 1 held a slate
in my right foot and a pencil between
the toes of my left and managed to fig
ure as well as anyone. My right limb
is shorter than my left,and I learned to
write with my left foot, as you have
seen. I learned all that was taught in
the common schools of Georgia before
the war."
AN AGREEMENT.
'1 am tired of life,' said a young fel
low. *1 have met with nothing but
continued disappointments, and I can
see no use in prolonged existence.'
'I don't see why you should live,' re
joined an acquaintance. 'I don't know
that you have ever done any good in
the world, and can't see why you want
to live.'
'What!' the disheartened
man, who had been looking for sympa
thy. 'Don't see why I should live ?
Confound your ugly picture, I've as
much right to live as you have.'
There are times when it will not do
to agree with a friend.— Ark,Traveller.
\
Martial Expenses.
Sato Perkins, of Ilearne, Texas, is
somewhat of a philosopher, and is al
ways giving good advice to his friends.
He is somewhat cynical on the subject
of matrimony, having had some sad ex
perience in that line.
Not long since his nephew, Sam
Stinchcomb, told him that he intended
to marry Mary B irtlett.
. 'Has she got any money ?' asked
Sam.
'No.'
'Have you got any ?'
'No.'
'My dear boy, don't you know that it
takes a great deal of money to carry on
war V—Texas Sifting's.
NO. 13.
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assertion
I , ■ .
Thurlow Weed's Story.
How a Lawyer Came to His De
fense—The Secret Out.
The late Thurlow Weed, who was
sometimes called 'The Priam of the
Press,' because he was the father of so
many newspapers, once-told me an in
teresting incident of his life which has
been anadvertently ommitted from bis
memoirs. It was during the war of
1812, when he was livibg in Coopers
town, N. Y., the home of thej yet un
fledged novelist, and was setting type
as a journeyman -printer. *1 was 19
years old and I fell in love with Cath
erine Ostrander, my landlady's daught
er, two years younger than I was. Her
folks objected, very properly, to her
marrying a strolling printer, without
money or anything else, and I agreed
to wait.
'About this time I got into a bad
scrape. I, with three other young fel
lows, who were rather a hard lot, was
arrested on complaint of four girls
whom we met at prayermeeting. I bad
never seen them before, but we walked
home with them, and they made a
charge of improper conduct against us
all. The others got bail, but I had uo
licit relatives, and prepared to go to
jail. At the examination I told the
justice I had no lawyer and no money
to pay one, when, to my great surprise,
a leading attorney of the town, whom I
had never spoken with and did not
know, stepped forward and gave bail
for me and offered to defend me. II
was Ambrose L. Jordan. i;was de
lighted. I did not go to jail, and at
the trial tbe girls voluntarily declared
that I was not a party to the offensive
transaction. I left town for a while,
but came back in a year or two and
Catharine Ostrander accepted me and
we were married. I never forgot Jor
dan.
'Some fifteen years after that when I
was m Albany in a position of some in
fluence, we were making up the Whig
state ticket in convention. The princi
pal officers had been placea in nomina
tion, when somebody said, *Now for
attorney general. We must have a
man down in the middle of Ibe state;'
'I named Ambrose L. Jordan and he
was mad • our candidate and elected.
4 When he came up to Albany he said
to me: 'I have some conscientous
scruples about accepting this office.
You gave it to me because I defended
you in Cooperstown when you wanted
a friend.'
'Not entirely or exactly,* 1 said. 'I
merely reasoned that a man who would
come to the rescue of an unknown and
penniless youth for the sake of seeing
justice done had the right Ideas to make
a good attorney general.'
'Well,' he answered, 'I am not enti
tled to the credit you give me for either
sagacity or right feeling. I gave bail
for you and defended you because Cath
arine Ostrander came and made a fuss
about you and wouldn't giye me any
peace till 1 did it. Better appoint ycur
wife attorney general!'
'lt was the first I knew of her agency
in the matter, She had never told me
during all those happy married years.'
Bill Nye's Philosophy.
To the young the future has a roseate
hue. The roseate hue comes high, but
we have to use it in this place. To the
young there spreads out a glorious
range of possibilities. After the youth
has endorsed for an intimate friend a
few times, and purchased the paper at
the bank himself later on, the horizon
won't seem to horizon so tumultuousiy
as it did aforetime. I remember at one
time of purchasing such a piece of ac
commodation paper at a bank, and I
still have it. I didn't need it any more
than a cat needs eleven tails at one and
the same time. Still the bank made it
an object to me, and I secured it. Such
things as these harshly knock the fluff
and bloom off the cheek of youth, and
prompt us to turn the strawberry-box
bottom side up uefore we purchase it.
Youth is gay and hopeful, age is cover
ed with experience and sears where th 6
skin has been knocked off and had to
grow on again: To the young a dollar
looks large and strong, but to
dle-aged and old it is weak and ineffi
cient. When we are iu the heyday and
fizz of existence, we believe everything,
but after awhile we murmur : 'What's
that you're givin' us,' or words of a
like character. Age brings caution and
a lot of shop-worn experif nee purchased
at the highest market price. Time
brings vain regrets and wisdom teeth
that can be left in a glass of water over
night.
■ ■ - —'- 1 *
TIMS TO CALL THIS IN.
'Mrs. Sharp can't you find anything
else to do than blow me up continually,
whenever I say that Dinah isn't a good
cook, aud you should discharge her and
get another ?'
'Well, John,if you don't like the way
I take it, I'll tied some other way to
'blow you up,' as you call it.'
'How V'
•Well, Diuah might, for instance.'