The Millheim Journal, PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY BY * a.. su^TitiiEij. Office in the New Journal Building, Penn St., near Hartman's foundry. •1.00 PER ANNUM, IN ADVANCE, OR SI.OO IF NOT PAID IN ADVANOI. Acceptable Cemspoifeace Solicited Address letters to MILLHEIM JOURNAL. BUSINESS CARDS- HARTER, Auctioneer, MILLHEIM, PA. J-j STOVER, Auctioneer, Madisonburg, Pa. H.RKIFSNYDKB, Auctioneer, MILLHEIM, PA. W.BTAM, ~~ Physician a Surgeon Offleo on Mam street. MILLHEIM, PA. J-JR. JOHN F. HARTER, Practical Dentist, Office opposite Ute Methodist Church. MAIM STMET, lliiumi PA. GEO. L. LEE, Physician & Surgeon, MADISONBURG, PA. Office oppoulte the Public School House. M.D., WOODWARD, PA. U DEINLNQEB, nuutrj-ruouc, Journal office, Penn at., Millheim, Pa. 4WDeeds and other legal papers written and acknowledged at moderate charges. wJ. SPRINGER, Fashionable Barber, Having had many years 1 of experience. the public can expect the best work and most modern accommodations. • \ Bhop 2 doors west Millheim Banking House MAIM STREET. MILLHEIM, PA. QEORGE L. SPRINGER, Fashionable Barber, Corner Main ft North streets, 2nd floor, Millheim, Pa. Shaving, Haireattinf, Sbampoonlng, Dying, &c. done in the most satisfac tory manner. Jno.H. Orris. C.M. Bower. Kills L. Orris QRVIS, BOWER A ORVIB, Attorneys-at-Law. BELLEFONTB, PA., Ofttoe In Wood Ingslßoiidlng. D.H.Hastings. W. F. Bee de JJASTINGS & REEDER, Attorneys-at-Law, BELLRFONTE, PA. Office on Allegheny Street, two doors east of the office ocupied by the late Arm of Yoeom ft Hastings. T C. METERj Attorney-at-Law, BELLEFONTB, PA. At theOffloe of Ex-Judge Hoy- o. heinle, Attorney-at-Law BBLLSFONTE, PA. Practices In all the courts of Centre county Special attention to Collections. Consultations In German or English. . A. Beaver. J. W. Gephart. "jgEAVEB GEPHART, Attorneys-at-Law, BELLEFONTB, PA. Office on Alleghany Street. North of High Street HOUSE, ALLEGHENY ST., BELLBFONTE, PA. C. G. McMILLEN, PROPRIETOR. Good Bamn}6 Room on First Floor. Free Buss to and from all trains. Special rates to witnesses and jurors- OUMMINB HOUSE, BISHOP STREET, BELLEFONTB, PA., EMANUEL BROWN, PROPRIETOR House newly refitted and refurnished. Ev erything done to make guests comfortable. Ratesmodera" tronage respectfully iolici ted . 5-ly -J-RVIN HOUSE, (Most Central Hotel In the city.) CORNER OF MAIN AND JAY STREETS LOCK HAVEN, PA. Good sanu pie rooms for oommsmial Travel - onion. But floor.. PS? ffo milMm Smwmi R. A. BDMILLER, Editor. VOL. 60. The Woi<l\ii]giqqiVs Wife. "Don't fall in love with her, Jun ius." "Your caution comes too late, old man. I'm in love witli her already." Franklin Bartley looked solemnly at Dr. Junius Dale ; shook his head as if to say, " 'Tia true, 'tis pity ; pity 'tis, 'tis true." "My dear fellow," said Bartley, the aged mentor of the pair, "you cannot more afford such a wife than you can afford a steam yacht or au iyoiy mounted billiard table." "There's no occasion to tell me that," mournfully replied Dr. Dale. "I'm quite aware of it already. If I was rich I'd marry Miss Clarke to-mor row always providing that she thought me worthy of acceptance ; but as I am only a struggling young doctor, I'll do my bast to keep away from her fascinations in the future." **A sensible decision," observed Bartley. "But she is so pretty," yearningly remarked Dr. Dale. "Granted." "And she sings like a nightingale." "She ought to. with all the cultiva tion that her voice has received." "And she has sneh a winning way with her." "What difference does that make to you ?" said Bartley. "Haven't you resolved that hereafter she is to be nothing to yon ?" "Y-yes; but—" "Stick to your colors then, man," eried Bartley. "Clissy Claike is noth ing on earth but a society belle.. What you want la a helpful, williog, working bee of a wife—one wbo can aid yon with heart and hand to climb life's hill. You saw Miss Clarke at tbeWin field masquerade last night, in white satin and pearls ?" "And very beautiful she looked," cried the young physician, firing sud denly up at the recollection of Miss Clarke's auburn hair, all twisted with ropes of Seed pearl, and violet blue eyes, sparkling with girlish animation. "Did she look like a poor man's wife ?" "Not a bit of it "Then be warned," said Bartley, shortly. "Remember the old story of tbc moth scorching its wings in the candle flame." Dr. Dale was silent. He had prom ised himself the pleasure of a call on Clarissa Clarke that very afternoon. There was something about lite girl that attracted nim with almost mag netic force. The tender light of her eyes, the sweet intonation of her voice, the rosy flushes of color that over spread bar cheek when he talked to ber, were all separate attractions ; and yet he knew that be, like the hero of French romaoce, was "a poor young man." He recollected, now, that he had even said something to Clissy about going to the Clarke cottage that day. "It won't do," he said to himself. "I bad better keep away." And so, instead of following the dearest inclination of his heart, he be took himself with Spartan resolve to the pnblic library. "I'll read up that case on the inves tigation of cholera microbes," he thought. "If a man expects to make any mark in his profession, he must keep posted up in these modern dis coveries of science." So he disappeared into one of the al coves ol the library, with his medical quarto and bis memorandum book, and set to work in good earnest. But be had not fairly entered into the merits of the microbe question when the twitter of sweet girl voices from the adjoining alcoves struck upon his ear. "Oh, Clissy Claike !" said one. "I called for her, and she wouldn't come. It was baking day, and there was Clissy up to her elbows in flour and spices." _ "Well, I never !" said the other, with a giggle. "Oh, she does all the housework," said the first speaker, scornfully, "like any hired servaut. Even the fine washing—for they only keep one little bound-girl—and Mr.Clarke won't wear a shirt unless Clissy has ironed it." "How does she find time for her mu sic and oil painting ?" asked the sec ond. "Ob, she rises at dawn. She says the best time of the working-day is be fore breakfast. She finishes the house work, sews for the family—" "Makes all her own dresses, don't she ?" "Yes, and her mother's too. That satin dress she wore at the party last night was her grandmother's bridal gown made ever, and the pearls were borrowed from Miss Layton. It don't cost her anything to dress. She'll take the borridest old affair and remod el it with a scrap of ribbon or a panel of velvet until you'd think it was made MILLHEIM, PA., THURSDAY, JANUARY 21., 18861 by a French dress-maker. I declare, I wish I had her knack. Papa is always grumbling about my bills. But that ain't all. Do you know, she gives Bes sie Layton music lessons, and earns quite a nice Dttie income for herself ? And she writes bonk reviews and things for the newspapirs, and keeps Mr. Clarke in books that way." "Dear me I" said the other, with a yawn, "who at the party last night would th'uk it ?" "Humph 1" remarked tie other, "She'll live and die an old maid, see if she don't. Such girls always do. Come, here are our uovels at last. Let's go." The perfumed silken flounces rustled out of the library; the sound of chatter ing voices died away, and still Dr. Dale sat, with his pencil iu his hand,staring down at bis memorandum book. It seemed that the gloomy veil which dropped between him and his future life were lifted. In his heart he could have blessed the agile tongues of these idle, gossiping girls. Clissy, then, was no mere butterAy, but a true, noble-hearted working girl 1 He carried back the ponderous medi cal tome to the assistaut librarian. "Much obliged," be remarked, suc cinctly. "Got through with it pretty quick, haven't you ?" said the assistant li brarian. "Yes, I've bad very good luck this moruing," said the doctor, cheerfully. He went straightway to the cottage on the outskirts on the village, where Clarissa Clarke lived. An apple-cheek ed little brother came to the door to answer the knock. "Yes, Clissy's at home," said he. "But she's fixing a chicken for papa's dinner. And then she's got my trous ers to mend. Clissy can't come up stairs." But Dr. Dale laughingly pushed his way across the threshold. "I'll come in and wait," said be. And in five minutes Clissy came is, looking even prettier, if it were a pos sible thing, in her calico morning dress than she had done in the white satin and pearls ou the evening before llow he managed to speak out the dearest wish of his heart, Dr. Dale never quite knew. He had prepared a form of words on the way, but they vanished utterly out of his mind when the eventful moment came. He could only remember that she stood before him in all her fresb, young beauty, like n human apple-blossom, and that he hivrd her. But after be had her hand in his, one arm carelessly thrown around her waist, he told her of the moruing oc currence. "Until then, dearest," he said, "1 looked upon you as a sort of unattain able luxury—a star to worshiped afar off only. I knew that I was noth ing more than a village doctor, with more ambition than practice—for the present, at least. But now I feel that I may venture to hope. Will you run the risk of sharing my scanty fortunes, Clissy ?*' "Willingly, Junius," she answered, looking up into his face with her frauk blue eyes. "And to tell you tbe truth," she added, smiling a little shyly, "I'm almost glad that you are not a rich man. Because,dear, I shall be so glad, so proud to help you a little in my hum ble way." So they were married. A few weeks subsequent to their bridal, Franklin Bartley married an heiress. "It's like Bartley," said Doctor Dale. "He always looks out for the maiu chance." At the end of five years, however, Franklin Bartley came back to his na tive village, a moody, and disappointed man. His 'money had all been dissi pated in unwise speculations, bis wife bad returned to her friends, minus her fortune. " 4 A young man married is a young man marred,' " he quoted, gloomily. "Except, perhaps, in Dale's case. He seems to haye grown rich by degress. And he is happy, too, even in the ob scurity of a country physician's life." "Thank! to my helpful little wife," said Dale, with a glanco of pride and tenderness toward Clissy, who sat on the dodrstep with two chubby children playing about her knee. "We have worked together, Clissy and I, and our reward has not been withheld from us." A white man from away dowu South in tbe Okeechobee Lake region came up to Gainesville last week on business at the United States Land Office. While there he saw the first ice he had ever seen. He manifested great inter est in the frigid substance, and put a half-pound lump io his pants pocket to take home to his family. lie soon took it out of his pocket, however, and as he did so said : 'l'm afeered it will spile my terbacker.' r* 'V ; 7K I ' ~ —SUBSCRIBE for the JOURNAL. A PAPER FOR TIIRHOME CIRCLE. Applications for Passes. When a reporter entered the office of au official of one of the trunk lines iu New Yoik recently, he found seated in an armchair a young woman with a pretty little girl in ber arms. The young mother was crying softly behind her handkerchief. When a clerk ask ed what she wanted she said she had been deserted by her husband, and she wanted a pass so as to overtake him and made him support her and the lit tle girl. She was positive her husband had gone to a Marge city several hun dred miles from New York, and if she oould only get a pans to go on and catch him she was sure they would be happy together again. Bhe said her parents lived 200 hundred miles in a nother direction. Her request for a pass was denied, and she was adyised to go home to her patents. 'Then you refuse to give me a pass ?' she asked, as she put her handkerchief in her pocket and straightened herself up in the arm-chair. 4 Yoa will not help me in trying to find my husband?' 4 No, madam, we cannot aid you,' was the polite reply. 'lt is against the rules.' Her cheeks grew several shades red der, and her bright blue eyes snapped as she aiose and stalked out of the of fice. 'That kind of a woman is a perfect nuisance to us,' said one of the rail road officials. 'We have sometimes a dozen or fifteen of thera a day. That woman was a fraud. She wanted a pass to go visiting on, and her story a bout desertion was false. Her cheeks were plump and full of color, and her eyes were bright and clear. Now if she had been deserted by ber husband she would have worried and cried so that she would haye looked as if she had not slept for a week. I've seen too many cases of this kind before. One of the most curious things in con nection with applications for free trips is the fact that the officers of all the charitable associations within a radius of 300 miles labor under the impression that our road is run as part and parcel of each one of their societies. They pester the life nearly out cf us for pass es to all points for persons they are in terested in or whom they want to favor. Just glance over this drawer of letters and see what you think of the requests of some of the writers.' Tbe reporter saw in the drawer near ly 100 letters frotn benevolent associ ations and charitable institutions beg ging for trip passes to all parts of the country. One letter asked for a pass for a thousand-mile trip and return for four persons, on the ground that the writer had been assistant secretary of a benevolent society in a neighbor boring city for several years. "That is our charitable drawer. Look over our official drawer,' said the railroad man; 'it is the next one a bove.' This drawer was packed with letters from municipal, county, and Uuited States officials of all kinds. 'What do you do with these applica tions ?' inquired the reporter, tapping the two drawers ; 'do you grant any of them ?' 'Yes, we grant tbe request of those who we think are entitled to passes,' was the reply ; 'but it is very hard work sometimes to tell when to give them or when we ought to refuse. The reasons given why passes should be is sued are countless. We very frequent ly have fellows come in here who tell pathetic stories of how they have been robbed of their last cent in tbe city) and they must have a pass to go homo on. Every one of these will solemnly promise to send tbe money to us by the Aral mail after reaching home. They never send us the money, and they do not expect to send it when they prom ise. Another class of persons who bore us for passes are our personal friends. Hundreds of persons who have no claim upon the company, ex cepting tiieir friendship or acquaint ance with one of its officers, are con stantly annoying us with requests for trip and annual passes. Men who say they are veterans of the war are here daily to get passes, If we are convinc ed by their documeuts of the truth of their statements we give them a trip pass. The laugh was raised at my ex pense a few weeks ago. A fellow who produced papers showing an honorable record of four years' service in the war asked me for a trip pass to a Western city. He had a heavy cold and looked very weak. I gave him a pass, and he left with a hearty 'God bless you, sir, for your kindness to an old soldier.' Within fifteen minute 3 he was detect ed trying to sell the pass in the depot. He had never seen a Confederate sol dier. Men and women who have just been discharged from the hospitals in and around New York come here at the rate of a dozen a day, and want us to pass them to towns or cities where they have friends. See that pile of letters I have to sign. They are in auswer to requests for passes. They are from clergymen, hotel clerks, freight shippers, and persons who say they have been injured on our line. If we have an accident on tbe road of the most thrilling nature, within a week several persona will want passes on the ground that they were hurt ou that paiticular occurrence. There are few persons in this country who cannot rakeupßome reason why they should not have an occasional free pass over a railroad line.' Josh Billings and the Drum mer. The late Josh Billings was once on a passenger train bound for bis old home at Lanesborongh, Massachusetts. On the train were several commercial trav ellers, who, to while away tbe time, proposed a game of whist. A fourth man was wanted, and a gentleman sit ting near was requested to take a hand. 'No; Ido not play. But there is an old fellow who is a capital player; try him'—pointing to the 'old fellow,' who sat demurely on the seat in front. 'Good player, is he?' said the com mercial man. 'Then we'll have some fun with old Hayseed;' and accosting the quiet, farmer-like passenger tbe youug man, whose c h eek was his for tune, blandly said: 'My venerable friend, we would like to have you take a hand in a game of cards with us, just to while away the time. Will you o blige us ? Looking tbe young man in"he face a moment,'old Hayseed' answers, 'Ya as, we'll be there in about three hours.' 4 You dou't understand, my friend; we want you to take a baud—' 4 Ya-as, the stand o' corn is yery good —oncommen handsome.' The commercial man was annoyed. 4 Speak a little louder,' suggested the gentlemdn in the seat behind; 'he is somewhat hard of hearing.' 4 My friend !' shouted the young fel low, 4 will —you —take —a —band —in —a —game ?' 4 Ya-as, game is uncommon plenty; all you want is—' 4 0h, go to the deucel You're as deaf as a post!' and the man of cheek sub sided, amid tbe laughter of his compan ions. When Lanesborough was reached, ( cld Hayseed' arose to depart, when he quietly .handed his card to the com mercial man, who sat glum in his seat, and in a particulaly comical way re* marked: 'Young man, when you trav el on your cheek, dou't get hay-seed in your eye. See? 1 The youDg fellow glanced atthe card. The superscription was—'Josh Bil lings.' Josh got off the* t train, and the man of cheek had,to find a seat in another car to escape the 'run' ou him by his companions.— Harper's Magazine. The Laugh was on the Olerk 'Ef it ain't writin' an' it ain't print in', wat kinder stamps do you put on ?' queried an urchin, whose head barely reached to the window ledge, at the postoffice yesterday. Tho clerk at the stamp window smil ed at the youngster's question, and winked in evident enjoyment at the by standers. Then he said: 'Sonny, I suppose you've got third class matter ?' 'I dunno, 1 was the dubious reply. The clerk laughed, and repeated his winks at tbe interested spectators wbo had overheard the dialogue. 'Well,'he said finally, and mimick ing the boy'B manner, 'ef it ain't writin' an' it ain't printin', I guess we'll have to call it third-class matter and send it along for you pretty cheap. What does it weigh ?' •Nuthin',' said the boy, as his mouth stretched into a grin that threatened to fracture his ears. 'Nothing ?' repeated the clerk. '1 ump,' muttered the boy, reefing bis smile slightly. In that case, then, sonny,' said the clerk, with hilarious animation, we'll send your package through for nothing.' 'Sure pop ?' questioned the boy, as he edged back a little from the window. 'Sure pop,' repeated the clerk. 'I pledge tbe honor of the government. Hand over the matter that weighs nothing.' 'Here it is, mister,' and the boy push ed an inflated toy balloon through tbe window opening. ' Jfind yer, I'll bold thegoy'ment 'sponsible—yer said so.' And then tbe boy and spectators did tbe laughing and the winking, and the clerk devoted himself to chunks of lan guage which weighed more than the mailable four-pounds allowed by law. 'The candles you sold me last were very bad,' said Jerrold, to a tallow chandler. 'lndeed, sir, lam very sor ry for that.' 'Yes, >ir; do you know they burnt to the middle, and then would burn no longerV 'You surprise me! What, sir, did they go out ?' 'No, sir, no; they burnt shorter THE more honesty a man has the less he affects the air of a saint. Terms, SIOO per Year, in Advance. A Forgotten Veteran. Left Behind in the Desert by All His Comrades. He had been thrown out as a videtle, and for hours he had peeped into the darkness around him to watoh for the slightest sign of danger—listened like one who realized that the wily "Arab of the desert steals upon his prey with all the silent cunning of the American In dian. As the stars of the night began to pale before the advance of dawn be felt like one reprieved. While he watched, the enemy had, for once, seemed to sleep. Daylight would bring a continuation of the march, and eveiy hour would witness a skirmish, but ev en a battle does not unnerve a man like standing vidette on a lone and danger ous post. Whatl Has he became blind ? Day light now covers the desert, and the vidette is looking towarks the camp of the nignt. There is no camp. At midnight he left 800 of his comrades. This morning there is no sign of lire, lie looks to the right, but there is no vidette. lie looks to the left—no liv ing thing meets his eyes. He stands and peers and stares and 4 blinks. Is he awake? If so, is he blind? Has tbe night played some strange trick on him in this land of strange things and strange fancies? He moves toward tbe spot where the night halt was made, but he advances slowly and cautiously, and he hesitates now and then as if to reason with him self. Ah! He is neither blind or daft. Here is a cap—there a belt— here a rope—there a sack, tokprove that the camp had been here. Here are tracks of men and camels, there a broad trail leading away to the south. In the stillness of night a messenger bad come to the little band, ordering an instant change of march. Quietly and without alarm the men had turned out, j the beasts made ready, and the yidettes called in. Allbutoue! In tbe hurry and tbe darkness he had been overlook ed. Leading on his carbine and looking over the trail left to show the change of march, the soldier reasoned it all out. His command had been gone for hours. He was alone and on foot. Overtake them! He smiled grimly at the thought. The sun and sand and thirst of Egypt were as deadly enemies as the spears and bullets of the Arabs. He had neither food nor water. A hund red mi'es of burning sands, and hot winds lay between him and a blade of grass—a single drop of water. The soldier turned to survey the des ert plaiD. To the east, nothing but sand; to the north, nothing but sand; to the west, nothing but sand; to the south—ah! He straightened up, shad ed his eyes with his hand, and for a long minute continued his gaze, then he let his arm fall. A score of Arabs were riding down npon him. Without undue haste —with the dig nity befitting an old vereran—the sol dier took from his breast and pinned to his coat a medal. Upon its bright side were the words: "The Boer War." He pinned on another which said: "For Services in Zululand." Tnere was a third-a fourth—a fifth. In his twenty years of soldier life the old man had a thousand times been a target for bullets. This was his last campaign. Death was riding down upon him, and he would die like a soldier—as a Brit ish soldier. TWhen the savage horsemen were a half mile away they halted. The old soldier was ready and waiting. There was no thought of taking him a priso - ner—no thought of surrender. There was a moment of consultation, and then the bunch of horsemen deployed in line and advanced at a gallop.l Steady, now! Crack! Crack! Crack! Two horsemen tumbled from their sad dles—a third reeled about in his seat like a man mortally hit. Before anoth etshot could be fired the murderous lances drank blood and the old soldier lay dead. On the hot sands, his face upturned to his foes, and his medals shining as never before in a morning sun, lay the old man dead. And then not by the hands of friends—not by the hands of comrades—a sixth medal was placed upon his brawny breast. It was not of gold or silver, but something of more priceless value. It was the words of an Arab chieftain; • "Comrades, a brave man lies here!" —Detroit Free Press. Mr. Beecher on Oo oking. At a concert given for the benefit of the Working Girls' Society, Mr. Beecher, after describing the object of the society to be the education of the working girls in useful branches of knowledge, such as dress-making, cooking, type writing, millinery, etc., said; 'Of dress making, there is no need for me to speak. It comes by nature. But cooking; In all the ef forts that are being made known to economize and lift up tbe ignorant and the working classes of the com- NO. 3. NEWSPAPER LAWS If subscribers order tlie dlsooniUmathm of news|u|K rs. tlic luioHshcrs may coutlnue to Send iliem until all arrearages sire i.rfd. If subscribers refuse or neglect to tatetlielf newspapers from the nfltoa to which tbeyare sent t hoy at e held responsible until tliy have setttod the bills una ordered them discontinued. If subscriber* u'ovo toother places without In formliijr the publisher, and the newspapers aie sent lo the former phiee, they are responsible. ADVERTISING RATES. 1 wk. 1 mo. Smos. Gmos. 1 yea 1 square $2 00 *4 00 $5 00 S6OO S6OO H " 700 10W lf 00 3000 4000 1 " 1000 15001 tf> 00 45 00 75 0$ One Inch makes a square. Administrators and Executors' Notices $2.50. Transient adver tisements and locate 10 cents per Hne for Ant Insertion and Scents per line for each addltioc al Insertion* muaity there are a great many fund amental elements that must enter in. But the one neglected element of econ omy is cooking. It is astonishing to think what sort of thing we have to eat, and in what condition. I consid er the kitchen as being the devil's own organized kingdom against the king dom of health in the human family. The want of economy springing from the want of knowledge; the gross food, the greasy food; the want of delicacy and of regard for the fine ele ments of health and life—it is amaz ing, it is piteous, it is heathenish. The heathens live better than we do oftentimes in that regard. We do not want any French morality, but we should like some French cuisine— the art of one onion to make a dozen soups, every one of a different flavor; the art of rendering the poorest meat and the cheapest, such as are within the reach of all, into such tasteful and relisbful dishes as shall perfectly sat isfy the men that gorge themselves with pork and rnde beef and all that; and to teach young women how to wisely and economically aqd delicate ly to cook is to lay a foundation un der their future married life that will avail very much. I would not bold back any moral or religious element, but the kitchen has a great deal to do with grace in civilized circles. \ What the President and the Cabinet Read. 'Who is the best reader in the Cab inet?' a Washington bookseller was asked the other day. 'Folks say La mar is,' replied the dealer. 'He may be, but I never beard of his buying a book. If be reads he doesn't keep pace with the times. I reckon Bay ard is the best reader. He buys a great many books and keeps right a long with the best writers. His read ing is of a sober,. statesman-like char acter, and he does lots of it He comes in to boy his own books, and I have nfever seen bim look at a nov el. The President, I understand, is a good reader, but the only book I know of bis having bought is Blaine's. Hfc bought that a few days after he came to Washington. A great many books go to the White House. Col. La mout buys many good books and nearly all tbe popular periodicals, but I don't know who reads them. I suppose many are got for Miss Cleve land. Secretary Whitney reads a great deal. He doesn't confine him self however, to politics, history or philosophy. He is very fond of nov els and reads many. Some are the * best and some are the lightest. He reads such novels as 'The Vagrant Wife,' 'The Tinted Venus,' 'Called Back,' 'Struck Down,' Ac. Secre tary Endicott reads novels, too. But he never buys anything in English. He always gets French novels and reads a great many of them. The other members of the Cabinet we don't see mnch of. I guess there is no one in tbe Cabinet who buys so many good books as Blaine does. He buys everything on sober subjects by well-known anthors. He gets much the same books as Bayard does, only the range of Lis research is wid er. Logan isn't anything for baying books. Historical Trees. The tree under wbieh William Peon made his treaty with the Indians. The tree on Boston common, where, tradi tion says, seyen tories were hung. Elm tree on Oambridge common under which general Washington first drew his sword as commander'in-chief of the continental army. The charter oak. Pine tree near Fort Edward, N. Y., where Jane McCrea was murdered by the Indians. Tne thirteen trees planted by Gen. Alexander Hamilton on his estate near New York, repre senting the original thirteen States. The oak tree at Franklin, N. H., on which Daniel Webster, when a boy, hung his scythe and said to his father, 'Now the scythe hangs to suit me.' The apple tree at Appomattox under which General Grant received the sur render of General Lee. ,Old man Pennybaker has married again.' 'You don't tell me so.' 'Yes, and be has married a right youug girl, forty years younger than be is.' 'Well, I declare. His other wife on ly died six months *go and he went on so at the grave that I expected that he would loose his mind. 1 'Well, you see your prediction has come to pass.'— Teocas Siftings.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers