The Millkeim Journal, PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY BY R. A. BUMILLER. Office in the New Journal Building, Penn St., near Hart man's foundry. •1.00 PER ANNUM, IN ADVANCE, OR fl.ae IF NOT PAID IN ADVANCB. Acceptaide Correspondeace Solicited Address letters to MILLHEIM JOURNAL. BUSINESS CARDS. AIIARTER, Auctioneer, MILLHEIM, PA. y B. STOVER, ~ Auctioneer, Madisonlmrg, Pa. YF H.RKLFSNYDER, Auctioneer, MILLHEIM, PA. JD* JOHN F. BARTER, Practical Dentist, OfDoe opposite the Methodist Church. MAIN STREET, MILLHEIM PA. JYI DII MINGLE, ~~~ Physician & Surgeon Offliee on Main Street. MILLHEIM, PA. GEO. L. LEE, Physician & Surgeon, MADISON BURG, PA. Office opposite the Public School House. GEO. S. FRANK, Physician & Surgeon, REBERSBURO, PA. Office opposite the hotel. Professional calls promptly answered at all hours. P. ARD, M. D.. Physician & Surgeon, WOODWARD, PA. O. DEININGER, Notary-Public, Journal office, Penu at., Millheim, Pa. JVDeeds and other legal papers written and acknowledged at moderate charges. J. SPRINGER, Fashionable Barber, Having had many years' of experience. t he public can expect the best work and most modem accommodations. Shop 2 doors west Millheim Banking House, MAIN STREET, MILLHEIM, PA. OEORGE L. SPRINGER, fashionable Barber, Cornet Main St North streets, 2nd floor, Millheim, Pa. gftarioff, Haircutting, Sbampooning, Dying, Ac. done in the most satisfac tory manner. Jno.H. Orvts. O. M. Bower. Ellis!L.Orvis. QBYIS, BOWER & OBVIS, Attorneys-at-Law. BKLLEFU NTE. PA., Office In Woodings Building. D. p. W. P. Beeder YYASTLNGS A REEDER, Attorneys-at-Law, BBLLEFONTE, PA. Office on Allegheny Street, two doors east of the office oeupied by the late firm of Yocom A Hast Lags.r . ; J C. MEYER, ' Attorney-at-Law, BELLEFONTE, PA. At the Offloe of Ex-Judge Hoy. C. HEINLE, Attorney-at-Law BKLLKFONTE, PA. Practices in all the courts of Centre county ffSuiSntiSl toCoUections. Consultations in German or English. A. Beaver. J - w - Gephart. "DEAVEB A GEPQART, Attorneys-at-Law, BELLEFONTE, PA. Office on AUechany Street. North of HighStree JgROUKKRUOFF HOUSE, ALLEGHENY ST., BELLEFONTE, PA. O, G. McMILLEN, PROPRIETOR. Annd Samrde Room on First Floor. Free BwSto andYrom all trains. Special rates to witnesses and jurors , OUMMINS HOUSE, BISHOP STREET, BELLEFONTE, PA., EMANUEL BROWN, roOPBIBTOB - Hrwite newtv refitted and refurnished. Ev- to ma*e guests comfortable. Ratesinodera** tronage respectfully soUch ®lw mmrnm EHitmutL R. A. BUMILLER, Editor. VOL. 59. An Bvontful Night. lias any of us, 1 wonder, a distinct ly dual nature—the one dispassionate and just,the other unreasoning and im petuous V Or in some remote and uu guessed niche of our souls does there sit enthroned a small and potent de mon, which sometimes breaks restraint and lets loose among our better senses the hounds of anarchy to deafen con science with their yells and hunt our dearest loyes to the bitter death ? I can moralize and marvel now, since all is over and done ! I can marvel if I were possesed by same unguessed and j puissant spirit not my own, in one mel ancholy episode of my life ; or if some , uncanny and unworthier duality of my beiug had quickened to volition within | me. For certainly what I had been be- \ fore and what I have been since, I was not in that deplorable time which I shudder to recall. I was not ill, nor harassed, nor des pondent ; I was strong of body, my j mind was content, my heart at rest, when I was suddenly impelled to tire maddening belief that I was wronged as mau had never been wronged before, and when every impulse of soul aud sense seemed goading me on for ven geance and human blood. That particular evening I was sitting alone in the yet unlightcd library of my aomewhal isolated suburban resi dence. Outside was a deliciously fresh and balmy dusk—a serene and beguiling hiatus between the settiug of au un clouded sun and the rising of a stormy moon ! The wiuds were still ; the great maples were motionless ; there were no sounds save those of occasion al hoofs and wheels along the uueven and ungraded highway, or those of the uneasy river complaining with the bur den of the prolonged Spring rains. Nothing was visible but the formless shadows where all*was shade—nothiog more but the dim gleam of the scented lilac bloom, and of one narrow beam of light which issued from a window of the music-room at the far end of the long and low veranda. As I sat there gazing dreamily out into the balmy dusk and listening drowsily to the grumbling of the res tive river —somebody began softly in toning some fanciful operatic air, aud then presently an exquisite voice arous ed the hushed gloaming with strain af ter straiu of happy melody. With a sense of influite peace, of se renest delight, I leaned back in my luxurious chair aDd closed my content ed eyes. My Lyre was singing—my wife—the beautiful songstiess I bad lured from ao anticipated carreer of conquest and splendor,and caged in the calmer and prosier stronghold of my wedded affections. I had neyer wondered if Lyrie might some time regret her marriage with a man neither particularly young nor especially attractive ; I had never ques tioned if she might some time regret the love for which she had renounced a more dazzling life ; I loved her, and she was mine. And in the yet undi minished charm of our loving, I hdd never cared to speculate of what might be—of what might have been in a time of which I had no knowledge ; of what might be if for her the charm were dis solved in the alchemy of latent ambi tions or undivined illusions. I distrusted nothing. I apprehended nothing ; my mind was content and my heart at rest, as in the dreamy dusk I leaned luxuriously back in my li brary chair and serenely listened to the exquisite voice singing : "A passionate ballad gallant and gay, A mental song like a trumpet call ! Singing of Death and Honor which cannot die 1" But as I listened the song ceased— ceased abruptly with a sharp disson ance and with a little janflle, as if her lingers had come down with a startled crash upon the resplendent keys of the piano. Then all was silent. And in the midst of the silence, with a flash and a shock, the unguessed demon unlashea the turbulent jealousies and madden ing doubts ; or the unreasoning duali ty of my beiDg quickened to a volition which belied my sober senses. At the instant I was assailed by neither a cra zy suspicion nor a morbid premonition but by a vivid and impellent conviction that some concealed and gruesome thing was about to be disclosed to me. "Something startled her from her singing, and she is not one to be star tled by what threatens no evil." whis pered the voice which was so unlike my own. "Some person has sulked through the garden and through the veranda casements, and so, unseen and unheard, has gained her presence. Shi has been too suddenly confronted by some phantom from her past, by the ghost of some ill starred thing which she had deemed forever buried from her sight. And perhaps even now she is bewailing what might have been and planning for what might be." MILLHEIM PA., THURSDAY, AUGUST 27., 1885. Such was the summary of those and* de i and inexplicable convictions. I had no souse of hesitancy or scruple ; and 1 was possessed by the deliberate and sanguinary cunning of a crafty maniac. I neither sighed nor muttered execra tions. Bub I smiled grimly as I arose from my chair and with i stealthy tread walked from tho library and down the yet unlighted corridor toward the music-room. The door was ajar, and I felt not the minutest surprise as 1 peered into the apaitment and beheld the confirmatory scene which was being enacted there. There indeed was an intruder—a tall man cloaked like a brigand of ro mance—a handsome man, whose broad rakish hat flared hack from a counte nance impressively pallid and haggard 1 His arms were about my Lyrie, her golden head dropped against his breast and she was weeping bitterly. "I could not believe you would r6- main from mo so long if you were a uiong the living," she was sobbing just audibly. "Can nothing be done ? Can we not plan something that I may bo near you V—that you may come to me sometimes V" "You wero happier to believe me no longer among the living. Yon will be happier, too, if we shall moot again no more," tho man answered with some tierce passion kindling in his haggard black eyes. He lifted her dropping face,ho kissed ttie beautiful brows, lie unloosed her pleading hands—and then ho turned swiftly away. As lie vanished through tho opened casement of tho veranda, she glanced up aud perceived me advancing toward her. With the glance her great blue eyes dilated and darkened with unmistaka ble terror. Perhaps my accusing g*ze affrighted her and she feared, she kuew not what ; foi with a scared little cry she shruuk back aud hid her paling fuco in both her trembling hands. But I did not heed her ! Any emo tion of hers -whether of fear or ie morse or shame—was ndthing to me then. I was intent only in tho pursuit of a cloaked figure vanishing outside— a flying shadow whero all was shade. I had been impelled to the belief that I was wronged as man was never wrong ed before ; but I had no upbraiding just then for her —my vengenance was meant for him for whom she had cared before I met aud loved her, perchance, and for whom she still cared I The stormy moon was just visible a mong the thickening clouds ; the wind was begiuning to sigh among the great maples ; the gumbling oi the river sounded nearer and more near, so I hastened onward, hearing now and then the uncertain thud of reckless footsteps, or seeing a rakish hat loom ing like a black silhouette ngainßt a gleam of white moonshine. On and on I hastened in stealthy pursuit,through the extensive grounds, across a wooded incisure of knolls and hollows, and so emerged upou an aban doned road—a deeply excavated curve which somewhere intersected the high way. The cloaked figure with the rakish hat had become altogether invisible, but of his propinquity I was certain. For a saddled horse was nibbling the lush swampy grasses in a hollow down the roadway, and there were vaguely suggestive rustlings among the vines and elders between me and the river, which just there widened to a sullen and almost bankless current. "The clump of elders is his last co vert," I thought, grimly, as I descend ed into the curving roadway and stalk ed toward the marshy crescent of ground which flanked the river. And he was there, indeed ; but not erect and hostile and defiant. He lay prone upon the earth, moveless, as if he had composed himself for slumber, and totally unaware that a Cain had tracsed him to his retreat. What denunciations I uttered I do not kuow ; I only know that I clutch ed his brigandish cloak, that I dragged him to an upright posture, and that some murderous thing glittered iu my determined gup. "A man with broken bones and emp tied veins is not likely to defend him self," I was at length conscious he had said in strangely strengthless tones. And as I glared upon him I perceiv ed that his garments were drenched with blood, and that one stout foot dangled uselessly beneath bis cloak. "I stumbled over the brink of the excavated roadway, and some splinter ed rail has forestalled your bullet," he explained with a sort of satiric humor as I in voluntarily Jo wered the murder ous thing which menaced him. At this juncture there was an ap palling crash like the booming of thun der, and then a rumblilng and roaring like an onset of artillery. Instinctively I turned my gaze to wards the neighboring bills. I knew what had happened ; burdened with A PAPER FOR TH E HOME CIRCLE the prolonged Spring rains, the restive riyer had rent assunder some fettering dam above, and tho mighty floods were already deluging the land. In another half hour the roadway would be au impassable torrent, the marshy crescent would bo a plunging sea, and my helpless arch-enemy must persisli if nothing intervened to spare him. I would leave him to his doom, as suredly ! I should be an idiot to do otherwise ! And thou with a shock and a flash, the demon, tho lunacy, tho unworthier duality, or whatever it might have been, was extinguished within me. Perhaps I had lAen un idiot already, 1 began to reflect I If my girlish bride had loved hitn in a time of wi.icli I had no knowledge, even If she still loved him, even if she had meditated wrong to me, I should indeed be idiotic lo do ought which would lie joy to my foes and grief to them that esteemed me, and an eternal ignomy to myself! I would instead he his deliverer ; I would take him back to her, and then I would leave them to themselves ; I would have done with them forever, and I would go my way alone l My reflections# if comprehensive, were of short duration. Already a vast avalanche of seething water was tumbling down the valley, already the rebelious river was rioting over knolls and hollows, and down yonder in the streaming road-bed a riderless horse was whinnying for his welluigh insen sible cavalier. "Come," I began in my own natural voice, "life is as dear to you as to me, and I shall not leave you to perish here. Arouse your courage a bit; if you can keep the saddle for a half mile, you will be safe." I had fancied a few moments before that my vehemence and menaces only mystified him : but he understood dis tinctly euough BOW. My task was sufficiently perilous, and accomplished none too soon. We had scarcely gained the elevated ground above the roadway when the watery avalanche thundered down aud sub merged even the precipitous brink over which be so unltlckily stumbled. He was safe ; but of my own safety I had been too incautious. For even as I momently lingered on tho brink my footing failed me, the flood smote me, and then I knew no more. When consciousness was restored to me, I was lying in my own chamber, aud my darling was kneeling beside my bed her beautiful beloved face all wan and anguished with a trouble which 1 knew was for me alone. "Life was worthless to my poor brother.and you would have giveu your own that he might live," I heard her murmur. I needed no more to understand the truth. The night was gone like some weirdly distorted dream ; and in the glory and gladness of the dawning, I put an arm about her and drew her to my heart. "You have never told me about your brother—tell me now," I said. The explanation was sufficiently lu cid. No doubt her brother had been more sinned against than sinning ; but all the same be had teen condemned for a grievious offense, and he was a fugitive from pursuing justice. For years she had believed him dead, nnd now I did not marvel she was so star tled by the phantom from the past. And now when all is over and done, my mind content, my heart at rest, I can calmly marvel and moralize upon the chaotic misery of that eventful night ! I can wonderingly question if I were possessed by some frenzied spirit not my own, or if some unreasoning and inconsistent duality of ray being had been quickened to uncanny volition within me I Two for a Cent Apiece. A young editor, bright,poor and pun sterous, had won the affections of a rich man's daughter, and they fixed a day for him to call on the father, and on that day ho was promptly at tho old gentleman's office. 'Good morning, sir,' ho said, confi dently, but ready to run; 'I have called on you on a matter of—' 'We don't want any advertising to day,' interrupted the old gentleman, looking up quickly over his glasses. 'I am not oa that business, sir. I came to ask you for your daughter.' 'What do you want with her ?' 'Marry her.' 'What for V 'For better or worse.' 'What does tho girl say V 'She says she will be my wife.' 'Uh ! l r ou haven't got a cent in the word, haye you V 'Yes, sir. She gave assent, and if you will do the same, that will make two, and we can buy a postage stamp and . write to you for the balance of our salary.' It was a wretched attempt, but be got the girl. Hickory, Dickory, Dock. Weezy was so auxious to help that she made it hard for hersell and for the family. She burned her fingeis to stir i ing hot apple sauce fur Bridget. She woke np the baby in trying to curl the few hairs on his little bald head. She meddled with mamma's knitting work till she had lost every needle. Papa llaynes laughed at these things ; but when Weezy learned to open his writ ing desk he looked grave. "This'll novor do," said lie lo mam ma. "Tho child will ho tearing my pa pers next." So no locked tho desk, and hung tho key above the tall clock beside it. "There my young squirrel, you won't reach that in a hurry," he said to him self, kissing his little daughter good by. After he was gone mamma stepped into the kitchen to tell Bridgot about dinner. Weezy stayed in the sitting room to sing Sambo to sleep. Every time she rocked back in her small chair she could see the key shinuiug over the clock. It loooked very much out of place. She wondered why her papa had put it there. She wanted to whist le with it. Oli hum ! if she was a lit tle speck of a bird she would fly against and brush it down with her wiugs. Or if Sambo was only au angel ! She dan ced across the floor, and threw him up as high as she could. Instead of knocking down the key she knocked poor Sambo's stocking yarn head a gaiust the wall, and he fell fl it upon the top of the clock. "Lio still. Sambo," cried Weezy, mounting a chair. From tho chair she easily climbed to tho broad shelf of the desk. There she rested a moment, leaning her chin on the top of the desk and patting Sambo. But she did not take him to her arms, for not far above hung the key. She had set her little heart on getting it. What do you think tho little sprite did next ? All by berself she scram bled to the very top of that big desk. Standing on tiptoe she tried to reach oyer the clock ! Even tbeu she was not quite tall enough to grasp the key with her chubby little fingers ; but by perch ing upon Sambo she got it at last. By the time mamma came hack Wee zv had opened the desk and cut one of papa's deeds into paper dolls. Papa was vexed enough at noon when he saw them. "The loss of that deed will give me a great deal of trouble," said he to mam' ma. "How did Weezy come by the key of my desk V" " 'Hickory, dickory, dock. The mouse ran up the clock I' " answered mamma, laughing. "Why, why, is it possible 1" said papa, turning pale. "I'm thankful she didn't break her neck—our little mouse of a Weezy."—Oar Little Ones. A Chinese Printing Offloe. Iu a San Francisco Chinese printing office the maimer of putting a newspa per on the press aud printing is yery priraitiye. The editor takes American newspapers to frießds, from whom he gets a translation of the matter he needs, and after getting it written in Chinese in a matter satisfactory to liim he carefully writes it upon paper chem ically prepared. Upon the bed of the press, which is of the stylo that went out of use with the last century, is a lithograph stone. Upon this the paper is laid until the impression of the char acters is left there. A large roller is inked and passed oyer the stone after it has been dampened with a wet sponge, and nothing remains but to take the imprfssion upon the newspaper to be. The Chinese pressman prints three pa pers every five minutes, five papers in tho same time less than Benjamin Franklin had a record fot. The life of a Chinese journalist is a happy one. He is free from care and thought, and al lows all the work of the establishment to be done by the pressman. The Chi nese compositor has not arrived. The Chinese editor,like the rest of his coun trymen is imitatiye. lie does uot de pend upou his brain for editorials, but translates them from all the contempo raneous American newspapers he can get. There is no humorous department in the Chinese newspaper. The news paper office has no exchanges scattered over the floor, ana in nearly all other things it differs from the American es tablishment. * The editorial room is connected by a ladder with bunks on the loft above, where the managing ed itor sleeps, and next to it is,invariably, a room where an opium bunk and a lay out reside. Evidences of domestic life aie about the place, pots, kettles, and dishes taking up about as much room as the press. In all cases, no disposi | tion is shown to elevate the position of the "printer" above his surroundings. If an editor finds that journalism does not pay, he gets a job washing |dishes :or chopping wood,and he does not think I lie has descended far, either. i SUBSCRIBE for the JOURNAL. Terms, SI.OO per Year, in Advance. A Sand Storm. . Midday, everything sweltering and seething in the sun that happens to be exposed to it; everybody bubbling —positively bubbling—with perspira tion that happens to be in the shade ; thermometer looks as if it would burst —I am afraid to say how high the mercury has risen—in fact, the perspi ration jiours so Into my cyos that I cannot sec the small figures. Rock and t and pain the eve by their glare. A black, dense, mud-colored cloud suddenly appears on the horizon at the south, a first a speck, thon grow ing larger and larger, rolling rapidly toward us, r.ow in the distance, now nearer and nearer. Down go tents, and up in the air go straw huts and sheds, while the palm branches wave and nod like the plumes of a hearse caught in a gale, or cf the helmet of a knight at a mad gallop. On, on it rolls, that grimy, fast-rid ing cloud. Now I cannot see twenty yards ahead of mc. The landscape is suddenly enveloped in a black shroud. It bursts upon my hovel. Away, a \vay,away go my half-answered home letters. Who shall catch them ? 'Go run after them; quickly, quickly, boy.' lam enveloped in sand. Over goes my only globe lamp—crash ! My bot tle of seven dnjs' allowance ot lime juice—it totters and capsizes, Down come the spiders, and away bolt the rats—whom I encourage to run about and eat the scorpions, centipedes and white ants. In comes a flock of little crimson-headed bats,and tumble exhausted. In have no doors or win dows to be blown in, and there is no fear of a shower of broken glass, such as I havo seen during a sirocco on the shores of the Levant. Books, sketch es, writing paper, manuscript, linen, lie scattered on the floor, I was going to say, no, the earth—we have no floors here in Ethiopia, buried in a moment in black dust; and over goes my only bottle of cognac, kept for medical purposes. I put my head out ot my window, was I going to write ? I mean a square hole in one of the four mud walls forming what is called by court esy a house. I was blinded as quick ly as any inhabitant of the cities of the plain was by the hand of the an gel. My eyes w T ere instantly filled wlth saud, every molecule of which was a burning spark, every particle a scintillation. It wearied mc to find my way to my washing-stand, I mean my pile ot old wooden cases,on which was balanced my basin, an old biscuit tin, with a classically shaped red am phora in it. Finding it at length I cleanse my eyes, smarting with the fiery dust, and put on a pair of huge green goggles, all glass; these are the ouly kind that keep out the sand. Thus armed I looked forth into the moving mountain of sand. A burn ing blast like unto the breath of a fiery furnace, scorches my face, dries up my skin, stopping eyery pore. I look into the heavens. The sun was a blood-red ball of fire floating "all in a hot and copper sky," while along the horizon hung a lurid light, such as one sees on the ocean before a storm. In the distance trees, huts and tents were invisible, but near one could just make out the winding, lead colored Nile, lashed into billows. A dense cloud, which enveloped all seem ed raining fire, the atmosphere as if seething, boiling, sputtering. And now waltzing, whirling along the banks came the "devils" (shaytams), as the Arabs call them, the sand spouts aerial giants—each in<? ulging in a pas seul, their high, fantastic figures rear ing their heads from earth to heaven. One is reminded of the djin of the "Ar abian Knights" let out of the casket in which King Solomon had sealed him up, and rising as a tall column of smoke. How grim and grewsome are they! No doubt the fanciful ghouls, efreets aenii of the Arab folklore drew their origin from such as these. And a destructive element are these rolling spiral sand billows—powerful agents of disintregation,haying a grinding,rough ing action on rocks and stones —as they ride the whirlwind, accelerating de struction in a country replete with de caying pedigrees of decaj—a country where all changes are no't of life, but of destruction —where the characteristics of the scenery around are heaps of rocks breaking into fragments. And these gusts of sand penetrate everywhere, into clefts and fissures of stones, eating into and sapping their foundations and acting with immense mechanical strength, lifting and rolling rock over rock. There is a wierd and tioa(ln danoa nil arnnnd .in dllll and NO. 33* lurid glare. Now I am enveloped in a heaving mountain of sand ; the air is stifling, my mouth is parched, speech is impossible without wetting the lips, the tongue is swollen. I never before propperly understood u tht J darkness of the Egyptian plague" which "could be felt." Half an bour-the sand tornado has swept by. I can hear the rush of scared horses, mules, donkeys and cat tle, as they rush madly by, having broken loose; the tremendous guttural roar and grunting of eatnels, the howl ing of dogs, and the sbdllscreaching of vultures and kites flyhtfclbeforethe gale. All nature groans. Half an hour—the Dongcla carnivel of the wild elements of the "Soudan" is oyer. Lost in a Squall. A Small Steam Yaoht Swamped In a Minnesota Lake. A Minneapolis (Mian.)dispatch gives the following particulars of a sad drowning caauality wlifoh occurred a few days since at a well-known sum mer resort: Shortly after 5 o'clock this afternoon a heavy wind and rain storm passed over Lake Minnesota. The small steam yacht Minnie Cook, || with ten persons on board,was capsized and every one was drowned. Two bod ies baye been recovered. The storm is described by eye-witnesses on the larg er boats as terrible. The waves were high and rain and hail filled the air. The larger steams* pot in to shore with great difficulty and it was imposs ible for thesmall craft to live in the terrible sea. Other boats aud lives are belieyed to have been lost. The storm was alsb severe at White Bear, but no lives are reported lost from there. Ex-Mayor Rand ownes a cottage on the lake and yesterday he organized a small party for a saUL When the squall ! where the lake is narrow to Breezy I Point, where his cottage stands. The boat keeled over and went down with- I out warning not a hundred yards from shore saw the boat when the squal ter Mary Rand, aged; J. It. Coykendali and wife and daughter Lu ald, engineer of the boat, aged twenty, seven, and R. C. Hussey. A special train went out to the lake with friends of the dead as soon as the hews arrived. Ten steamers began dragging for bodirn. Mr. Baud owned a large property in Minneapolis, and represented some millions of Boston capital invested here. The Tribune here will appear in mourning to-mor row. The boat was old and known to be dangerous. Mr. Band was bore in Boston in 1834, and went to Buffalo when young; he was educated there.and married Oline Johnson of that place. He was in the oil business in Pennsyl vania and afterward in New York as a manufacturer of gas out of oil; he then became a banker m Aurora, 111., and came to Minneapolis m 1874. He has served as mayor of that city three terms and was president *of numerous companies, Mr. Coykendali being his son-in-law. Seven deaths are virtually in one family. Two married sons sur vive. Not Quite Beady. A negro and his family living on the Decatur division ot the Louisville $ Nashville railroad recently attempted one of the most sensational swindles of the day. There are ten children in the family, and the husband and wife find it hard work to teed so many mouths. At a family council it was finally de cided that one of the children should sit down on the railroad track and be run over by a passenger train. The parents would theu sue the company for damages, with which the remaining youngsters could be ted, clothed and educated. Oue of the boys was so much struck with the project that he volunteered to sacrifice himself for the ood of the others. Shortly before the train was due he took his place on the track and waited. The train came thundering along. The little chap held the fort. He was true grit until the engine got within a few feet of him, when he gave an unearthly yell, and with a bound into mid-air made tracks. The authorities invested the matter and the above facts all Came out. f' 1 1 .'i A SATE PLACE. A prominent citizen of Austin has a hopeful son, who is a student of a uni versity. A few days ago the distressed parent said to an intimate friend : % I don't know what to do to keep my money safe. Since my son Tom has been attending the law lectures at the University of Texas he gets away with it every time. I'll have to get a bur glar-proof safe and sit on it with a shot gun.' TU tell you what to do,' replied the intimate friend ; put the money in one of his law books. He will never find it there. I know how much studying those students do.'— S%ltin(j&
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers