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Practices In all the courts of Special attention to Collections. Consultations In German or Kngftsh. oA, Beaver. * fr w * Op** 9 **' -GEAVER & GEPRART, Attorneys-at-Law, BELLEFONTE, PA. Office on AUegtony Street, ftorth of High Stree -gROOKERHOFF HOUSE, ALLEGHENY ST.. BELLEFONTE, PA. 0, G. McMILLEN, PROPRIETOR. flood SamnJe Room on First Floor. Free Bum* ami from aft trains. Special rates to witnesses aod lurors. . OUMMINS HOUSE, BISHOP STREET, BELLEFONTE, PA., EMANUEL BROWN, PROPRIETOR House newly refitted and refurnished. Ev .rvthin. lirtne to make guests corofortaDie. Ratestnodera** trouage respectfully solici ted fWSwvM S c* u >" R. A. BUMILLER, Editor. VOL. 59. A Slip of the Pen. Guy Guthrie was a town-bred youth who found, upou his father's death, that his position was not quito what it used to be when be had an overwork ed father to foot his bills and keep up appearances for himself and motherless sister. What tho careless boy would have done, had it not been for his father's maiden sister, Aunt Saphronia, no one knows, but she immediately sent for the brother and sister, cautioning them to bring all their belongings, for going to town was a luxury which she or her dependents did not often indulge in. "If it were anywhere but in the country," sighed Guy, ruefully, "I shouldn't feel so about it." "The green and blessed country," mused Susie, "I shall like it aboye all things." 4 'Yes, because you are a giil, and never have to do anything anyway. Now I'll have to plow and drag and transfer myself into a regular rustic, just for the sake of my bread and but ter—a glorious prospect, certainly." "Beggars cannot be choosers," re turned Susie. "And I snail have to work too ; Aunt Sopha wrote that she expected me to take care of the poultry." Quite a roostecratic appearance you will make, won't you ?" laughed Guy, ruefully. "I shall not listen to your fowl talk," said Susie,quickly,endeavoring to rouse Guy from gloomy feelings. "Gobble, gobble, gobble," sang Guy from the Mascotte. "Ba-a-a," came a merry voice from the doorway,and then George Maynard came into the room, saying : "Practicing up for the stage, Guy ? I thought I'd ruu in for a particular parting call before you left us." The young man addressed himself to his friend Guy, but his eyes were Oxed upon' Susie, and he drew his chair up to her side. "Very grateful, I am, sure," return ed Guy, mischievously. "But, as my attractions always grow small and beautiful less when compared with those of my sister, and as I cannot con • sent to play the wallflower, I will de camp to see you later." Quite a youthful couple were the two Guy Guthrie so considerately left to themselyes for a last chat before their long separation. Susie was a delicate little blossom of sixteen years, reared in all the idleness aod luxury of a daughter of wealth ; the change to the sunshine and activity of the country promised to be a god send to her,while George Maynard was the picture of health. He was but eighteen years of age, but possessed ey ery instinct of a refined and generous man. His true heart had been proved by his conduct toward Guy and his sister. When their reverse had become known he had faithfully followed them from their beautiful home to the cheap boarding-house which they now occu pied. "So yqy are really going into the country, Susie ?" said he, when the clatter of Guy's departure was no lon ger heard. "Yes," she replied ; "and we can never be too grateful to Aunt S&phro* nia for offering us a home at this junct ure." "I like the country myself, or,rather, think I would like it. I never passed a week outside of the city limits. Per haps some day, however, if you find a pleasant home there, I shall make you a visit and thus taste the pleasures of rural life myself." "Yes," said Susie flushing a little. "Guy will probably write you and you will know how we are getting along. The worse fear I have is for him. I am afraid he will not be contented there." "I shall certainly not lose sight of you, Susie. I think you knew that be fore I told you, and I want you to promise me before we part that you will not make any matrimonial en gagements for five years. It seems a little eternity doesn't it, Susie ?" The young girl made no reply, but the tears in her blue eyes, raised so trustfully to his, told George Maynard how deeply her feelings were stirred. "Won't you promise me, Susie ? And you may he assured,if we are both living, darling, at the end of that time, I shall find you, no matter wheie you may be." "I promise," said Susie, in a low tone. George drew the brown head to his shoulder and kissed the sweet face fondly. "That's a darling. See, Susie, what I have brought you." He drew from his pocket as he spoke a neck chain of elegant workmanship, and suspended from it was a locket of purest gold. He touched a spring re vealing a portrait of his own sunny , face hidden in the heart of the orna- MILLHEIM, PA., THURSDAY, mcnt. "You see 1 did not want yon to for get bow I looked, Susie. Will you wear this for my sake V" "Indeed I will, George. I shall treasure it as a memento of the happy lifo I have left behind mo." "And a token of the life of the fu ture, which will he si ill happier. Is it not so Susie V" A glorious rush of color was his an swer, which deepened as he clasped tho chain around her neck and kissed again her trembling lips. Guy's footsteps were now heard as cending the stairs, and Susie had only time to dry her eyes when he entered the room. "Ha, ha ! If you haven't both been crying. What a ptecious pair of spoons 1 Come, Susie and George, dowu to the parlor. Let's have oue more song before wo part." The brother and sister did find a change in the tenor of the'r lives, but it was a change for the better. Susie growiug strong and robust in her beau ty, and Guy, forgeting rusticity, delved away at farm work, as if he had been to the manor born. Occasionally they heard from the old friends, mostly through George May nard, who corresponded regularly with Guy, buy they never bad returned,even for a day, to the old scenes. Two years rolled rapidly into the past and then Aunt Saphronia left them for a better home. The two found themselves joint own ers of as lovely a home almost as they could desire. Guthrie Cottage was known for miles arouud for iis grand old trees, its ver dant lawns, climbing vines, and glor ious roses of every variety. Guy and Susie were entirely happy in their home, although sometimes they did look back to the pleasant days of their childhood. One day Susie received a letter from a frieud of the oldeu time. It read : MY DEAREST SUSIE : I have just been listening to some glorious reports of your rural borne, and another friend of yours and myself have determined to inflict our company upon you for a time. Who that other is I will leave for a surprise for you upon our arri val. Expect us Saturday. MINNIE LITTLE. Susie took the letter to her brother, where he was resting beneath a great oak in the twilight. "You remember Minnie Little, Guy ?" "Yes I remember her," he replied. "George writes me that she is a beauty and a belle. I shouldn't wonder if she had supplanted you, Susie." "Nonsense," ejaculated Susie, impa tiently. "Why can't you speak sensi bly ?" "You think it impossible for another to rival your charms ? What an exhi bition of vanity, Sue !" "Will you never cease your joking ? I want the ponies and carriage to go af ter Minnie Saturday." Impossible, the ponies will be in use." "Why, Guy, you wouldn't leave her to get here from the station herself, would you ?" "Why not ?" "What a tease you are. I repeat it. I want the ponies." "And 1 repeat it, you cannot have them." "Why, Guv, I don't believe there is a single reason why I should not have them." "But there is." "What is it ? "Because I want them to go after Minnie myself." "I might have known it,"said Susie, laughing. "Don't you want to do the housework, imd let me farm it while Minnie is here ?" •'Yes,'' replied Guy, with comical frankness. "That is exactly what I would like." "I thought so, but it would n't do you any good ; Minnie wouldn't never notice an old farmer like yourself." With this parting shot, Susie left her provoking brother to himself. But before Saturday there came an other note which read a3 follows : MY DEAR SUSIE : I have been dis appointed a day or two in visiting you. The friend who intended to accompany me was Mrs. George Maynard, but a sudden summons to New York has pre vented our visiting you together. I shall bewith you on Tuesday. MINNIE. Susie Guthrie read this note through the second time before she could com prehend its meaning. Mrs. George Maynard. Then George was really married, and his wife had thought uf visiting her. Thrice blessed Providence which had kept her away ! And she had fancied herself engaged to George Maynard. All too plainly she remembered George's words: "Pomise me not to make any matri monial engagements for fiye years." And the rest had been her own imag ination. [ Thank heaven, the new 9 had come to A PAPER FOR THE HOME CIRCLE. her as it had, for now Minnie Little ah nilil never know, for doubtless George's wife was a mutual friend of theirs, and if Minnie knew, George's wife might suspect liet secret also. She unclasped her chain from about her neck and was about to cast it from her. "I cannot! Oh, I cannot 1" she cried, and hid the long cherished souv enir upon her heart, Guy was thunderstruck. "I never imagined such a thing," said he ; "I haven't heard from him very lately ; but Sue one thing, don't question Minnie at all about him,or she may suspect something." The black ponies were at the depot the next Tuesday evening, and came home again bearing a vision of loveli ness in the person of Minnie Little. She was delighted with the couutry, going into ecstacies oyer Guthrie Cot tage.' "I never saw but or.e place as band some as thi3, and that is George May nurds, in the suburbs. You ought to see it, Sue." No reply from pale-faced Susie, and Minnie rattled away upon some newly discovered beauty among the flowers. After a time Minnie and Guy began to quarrel politely whenever they were together. Susie looked on in astonish ment, and sometimes she had to use her best endeavors to prevent an open rupture. Although Minnie doted on the coun try, she did not like the people who in habited it at all, she said, Guy, who had forgotten his own'old en tirade about the country, was al most angry. "Think of a man spending his whole life behind a yoke of oxen," she said. "But I dou't drive oxen," retorted Guy, making a personal matter of it. "I drive the best of thoroughbreds." "They are not like Mr.Nicholson's," sighed Minnie. "Mr. Nicholsou is a simpleton," said Guy, sotto voice. "Mr. Nicholson has a lovely turn out," returned Minnie, severely. And, oh ! he is just splendid, always ready to take one where she wishes to go." "But I am ready to take you wliere ever you wish to said Guy, look ing at her reproachfully. "Oh 1 I suppose so, but then I don't care to go anywhere," carelessly. And then Guy would hitch up the despised span and drive off to the vil lage and spend the whole day. "Sue," Minuie would say after a time, "when do you suppose Guy will come back ?' "I'm sure I do not know." "Do you suppose he went off because he was vexed at me ?" "I can't say. If you think you are to blame for his absence, why do you tease him so ?" "Oh ! I don't know," Minnie would reply, and then she would be so silent when Guy did return that he would be angry with her for that. "You Bre the strangest pair." said Susie one evening, when she had tried in vntn for an hour to make them talk. "I do believe you aie in love with each other." That must have hastened matters, for the next morning they where both missing. After her work was done Susie sat down upon the piazza to await their re turn. She was engaged upon some intricate fancy work, aud while busily counting her pattern she heard a step near her. She looked up to find George May nard's brown eyes fixed steadily upon her. "George 1" she exclaimed. "Susie 1" he cried, and caught her to his heart. For a long delicious moment she re mained there, and then she drew away. "Your wife I" she attempted to say severely. "Yes, if you will have me," ( replied George. "But—but, are you not married ?" "Why,, no. What made you imag ine that V" For answer Susie put Minnie's letter, which was in her pocket, into his hand. "I see," he replied. "I'll ask her what she meant by writing such non sense as that. But I think she meant me, for I proposed coming down here i with her." An hour passed by during which George told Susie of a piece of unex pected good fortune which had befallen him. He wished to be married imme diately and take her to the home Min nie had told her of. Susie had scarcely consented when Guy and Minnie were seen approaching them, the arm of the former thrown about the slender waist of the latter. All the mischief had come back to Guys blue eyes. He took off his bat to the couple on the piazza, and said, solemnly: • "I want but Little here below." When the laugh had subsided George turned to Minnie. "Look here, Minnie Little, what did you mean by writing to Susie about Mrs. George Maynard ?" "Guy has been telling me something about it," she replied. "I did not know that I had done so. Let me see the letter." George handed it to her. She read it and laughed. "It does look so, doesn't it ? But, my dear friends, that is nothing more than a slip of the pen." JULY 90., 1885. George W. Childs. Anecdotes of his Generosity to his Employes ana Others. 'Whatever may be said of tho Phila delphia Luli< r and its proprietor,' said President AmosOiimmitigs,in the Press cduh, the other day, 'George W. Childs is certainly tho most generous and wholcsouled editor and owner of a news paper in the world. No worthy journ alist or journeyman printer when in need ever applied to him and was refus ed. A year or two ago Mr. Cliilos saw that oue of his old editors was worn out, and his work lacked the polish that had always characterized it. lie called him into his sanctum oue morning and said : 'You have worked foi me forty years. You have always done your work hon estly and acceptably. lam now going to retire you at full salary. Take your wife and children, go into the country and enjoy yourself. Come or send to the office every Saturday and draw your salary. Hereafter your time, as well as your salary, is your own.' The old editor overwhelmed Mr. Childs with thanks, and departed. On the succeeding Saturday he went to the counting-room and tho cashier refused to pay him his salary. 'Wait,'he said, 'and I'll go and see Mr. Childs about it.' He went to Childs, and Childs told him to pay the man for a week's ser vices. 'But he is no longer on the paper,' the cashier suggested. 'That makes no difference,' Mr. Childs remarked, 'pay him his salary as long as he lives.' 'But, Mr. Childs,' broke in the cash ier, 'do you know this man is worth o ver three hundred thousand dollars ?' 'I hope ho is,' Mr. Childs responded, 'lt speaks well for him. The fact that lie is worth that money is no reason why I should not pay him his salary af ter his forty years of- faithful service. If lie had squandered his money in rum or dissipation you would have said that it would be all right to retire him on salary because he had no money. His prudence and thrift deserves at least an equal reward. Pay Jhim his salary as long as he lives, and say no more about it.' The old editor died three raoutlis af terward,leaving four hundred thousand dollars to his wife and children, but his salary was paid up to the day of his death. Another instance of Mr. Child's kindness to his employes is shown in the case of a man who was employed on the Lcihjcr when Mr. Childs first bought it. lie was a good workman, but a noted drunkard. When Mr. Childs assumed control he went to him and said, 'Mr. Childs, are you going to keep me 011 the paper at my present sal ary V 'What are you getting ?' Mr. Childs asked. 'Fifteen dollars a week,' the man re plied. 'I will double it on one condition,'his employer said ,* 'that is, that you shall never drink another drop of rum as long as you are in my employment.' The man accepted the proposition, lie afterward became a well-known temperance lecturer in Philadelphia, although he complained bitterly when adyertised as a reformed drunkard. Childs kept his eye on him, and he also has just been retired on salary. When ever he de&ires to do any special work for the Ledger, he is at perfect liberty to do so. Meantime he draws his sal ary regularly and his bills of expense are never questioned. lie, also, is said to be worth between three and four hundred thousand dollars. Another instance of Mr. CJhilds' be nevolence was shown in the case of Colonel John W. Forney. As tne twi light of life apioached Forney became very poor. llis good heart had been strained to the utmost tension by pre tended friends, and he was barely able to make a living. One day he met Childs. 'I am getting old,' the colonel said, 'and I owe a good]deal of money to per sons not able to loose it. If you could aid me in paying my debts, it would make the latter part of my life compar atively happy.' 'Go home and find out how much you owe,' Childs replied, 'and let me know in the morning.' The next day Forney reported that he owed about twenty-five hundred dol lars. Childs sat down to write a check for the money, when Forney said : 'Childs, you might as well make it five thousand while you are about it.' The good natured editor filled out the check for $5,000 and passed it to For ney. Within a week the colonel wrote him a letter, saying that he had no idea how happy the receipt of the money had made him. 'I do not now,' he wrote, 'owef a cent to anybody in the world, and I am twenty-five hundred dollars ahead.' The colonel, with prehensile friend ship, had accepted the generous man's check, as a gift, ana not. as a loan. Not long afterward the colonel died. He left his family in comparative pov erty. On learning'of this Mr. Child's Terms, SI.OO per Year, in Advance. remembered that while Mr.Forney was clerk of the House of Representatives at Washington, he bad paid $30,000 in to the public treasury on account of the defalcation ot one of his subordinates. Mr. Child's went to Samuel J. Randall, told him of the situation of Colonel Forney's family, and asked him to see whether the money that had licen paid to the government, by Colonel Forney on account, of the defalcation could not be returned. Mr. Randall investigated the case. It appeared that Colonel Forney, while technically responsible for the defalcation, was not actually to blame. Through Randall's influence Congress passed a bill returning the money to Forney's family, with inter est. On looking over her husband's pa per's Mrs. Forney discovered that For ney had borrowed the live thousand dol lars from Mr. Childs. On the next day she appeared at th * Ledger office and re turned the sum. Mr. Childs said : •I'll take the money,Mrs.^Forney,and place it to your credit. It is for your use alone. As long as you liye you shall have the use of it, but I want it placed so that it shall not be swallowed up in case of any misfortune to you.' It is not generally known that the re cent action of Congress in making Gen. Grant a retired gen era 1| of the army on full pay is due to the efforts of Geo. W. Childs; but such is the fact, as any one can ascertain by tr.lking with the Grant family.— -New York Journalist. A Romantic Incident. A Feeble Old Mother in Search ot a Daughter—At the Wedding. (New York Herald.) Among the emigrants who arrived at Castle Garden the other day, was an old woman, bent with age. She had lived her allotted three-score years and ten and her feebleness made her an object of universal pity. On the steamer she occupied stifling quarters in the steerage, but her companions were kind to her, and the voyage was made as endurable as possible. She said that her name was Janowski and that she came from Cracow, Poland. She told an interpreter that she had a daughter somewhere in the states, near the Atlantic ocean, but where she did not know. The government officials finally decided to send her back to Poland under the law which prohibits the landing of emigrants wo are likely to become public burd ens. The old woman protested, but in vain. The day for sailing arrived,and she was told that she must go onboard of the vessel. Age had made her child ish, and she sank upon the rude wood en seats and cried as if her heart would break. An official gathered up her bundle of clothing,when the shawl which was wrapped around it became loose and the clothing fell out. An envelope, torn and soiled, foil on the floor, and the official picked it up. It bore the postmark of Newark, N 4 J., and was addressed to the old woman iu Cracow, Poland. 'Where did you get this ?' asked the interpreter of the old woman. 'My daughter Jennie sent that,'she replied sadly. 'She is my only child, and all that I have on earth.' It was decided to take Mrs. Janow ski to Newark and endeavor to find her daughter. A gentleman, who had become interested in the old wo man, volunteered to go with her, and next morning they started. Arrived at Newark inquiries were made,and a Hebrew woman was found who said that she knew Jennie very well. 'Come this way, I will show you,' she said. The trio proceeded up Caual street until they came to a frame house in front of which a crowd had assembled. 'Jennie is to be married to-day,' said the guide. 'The ceremony is just being performed.' The old woman forced her way through the crowd in the narrow en try. In the neat but poorly furnished room the wedding guests had assem bled. The bride, attired in a dress of spotless lawn, trimmed with tresh daisies, stood besides the groom,a fine looking young Hebrew, awaiting the words which would make them one. A commotion was heard in the hall way, and, as the guests at the door separated, the bridb uttered a cry of "Mother !" and the old woman rush ed into her arms. The scene between the mother and daughter was very af fecting, and tears of joy were shed at the nuptial feast. SUBSCRIBE for the JOURNAL. NO. 29- HBW4WAP&& U.Wtt If subvert IK- IN order the dfeconthmttotl newspapers Um imollxbers may continue seitai i he rtflb* tp vepMi they arcs*?; they are hekl responsible until Uu-y tiAVesetlM the bills ai.d ordered them discontinued. If MiUscrjbcra move to other places without I forming the publisher, and the newspapers ai sent tp tie former pig ce, they,are responsible. i,,, ivi Kcolumn 400 6 001 10 00 15 00 18 Vt " 700 10 00 15 00 SOO 40 1 *.'' l 1000 15001 2500 45 UQ 75 One inch makes a square. Administrate] and Executors' Notices SASO. Transient advt tlsements and locals 10 cents per tine for fit Insertion and 5 cents per line for each additio aUlusertlou' A Low Valuation of Sis Life. I remember upon one aocaslon thi Boyton was called upon by the frai tic cries for help of a man who ha got beyond his depth and plunged ir tg the breakers, followed by a stir boat. The treacherous undertow.se ting strongly seaward, had caught th unlortunate swimmer, and he wi being rapidly carried out of the reac of assistance. Boyton seized him jus as he was about to sink for the las time, and Lad him banled aboard th boat. The man was utterly exhaust cd and it was nearly an hour befori he was fully restored. He took o his bathing suit, dressed himself an then with rare magnanimity took flroi his vest pocket a fifty cent note(silvc half dollars were not as plentiful the as now) and handed it to Boyton sa; ing.- 'I owe you my life, sir, and I hop you will call upon rae whenever yo want a favor. Take this money an treat yourself and your assistants to good stiff drink. You certainly mns be chilled through.' Boyton is of Irish extraction and a quick-witted as Philpot Curran. 'I think you have made a mistake he said. 'You put too much valu upon your life. Permit me to giv you your change,' and before the crei fallen miser knew what to reply, Boj ton had thrust into his hand forty nine cents in pennies, three-cent piec es and ten-cent notes. 'I will kee this note as a souvenir of the value c human life,' said Paul, coolly puttin it into his pocket. He has it to th day.— Pliila. News. Sanatoria! Snuff Takers. When Senator Thurman first learne to take snuff, says a Washington lett* to the Cleveland Leader , there wi hardly a man in the United States Sei ate who was not to it. Cls was an inveterate snuffer, and there a story that he once stopped in tl midst of an argument before thesi preme couit, and stepping to tiie fron asked Chief JusticeMarskall for a pine of snuff. Captain Bassett, the venen ble doorkeeper of the Senate, said tbei use SIRUP FOR CHILDREN TEETHING. Its value - incalculable. It will reUeve the px>r Uttle so ferer immediately. Depend upon it, mot hoi there is no mistake about it. It cures dysentei and diarrhoea, regulates the stomach at bowels, cures wind coUc, softens the gums, r duces inflammation, and gives tone and enerj to the whole system. MRS. WIN SLOW G SOOTI ING SYRUP FOR CHILDREN TEETHING is pleasai ao the taste, and is the prescription of one < the oldest and best female nurses and physic tus in the United States, and is for sale by a druggists throughout the world. Price I cents a bottle. —Deininger'B Beady Reference Td Receipt Book ts growing in public £ vor. Customers from a distance ai beginning to call for it. It is an ac mitted necessity for every tax-pay* who does his business in a practice manner. It it arranged to last for to years and sells at the low price of 4 cents. Call and see it at the JOURNA Store. t£ -Gospel Hymns, No. 12 & 3 combii ed,with or without music—at the Jou nal store. tf