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The Millheim Journal,
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY BY *
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.
Physician a Surgeon
Offleo on Mam street.
J-JR. JOHN F. HARTER,
Office opposite Ute Methodist Church.
MAIM STMET, lliiumi PA.
GEO. L. LEE,
Physician & Surgeon,
Office oppoulte the Public School House.
Journal office, Penn at., Millheim, Pa.
4WDeeds and other legal papers written and
acknowledged at moderate charges.
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.
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Corner Main ft North streets, 2nd floor,
Shaving, Haireattinf, Sbampoonlng,
Dying, &c. done in the most satisfac
Jno.H. Orris. C.M. Bower. Kills L. Orris
QRVIS, BOWER A ORVIB,
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JJASTINGS & REEDER,
Office on Allegheny Street, two doors east of
the office ocupied by the late Arm of Yoeom ft
T C. METERj
At theOffloe of Ex-Judge Hoy-
Practices In all the courts of Centre county
Special attention to Collections. Consultations
In German or English.
. A. Beaver. J. W. Gephart.
Office on Alleghany Street. North of High Street
ALLEGHENY ST., BELLBFONTE, PA.
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Good Bamn}6 Room on First Floor. Free
Buss to and from all trains. Special rates to
witnesses and jurors-
BISHOP STREET, BELLEFONTB, PA.,
House newly refitted and refurnished. Ev
erything done to make guests comfortable.
Ratesmodera" tronage respectfully iolici
ted . 5-ly
(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.
"Don't fall in love with her, Jun
"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,
"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
"But she is so pretty," yearningly
remarked Dr. Dale.
"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
"What difference does that make to
you ?" said Bartley. "Haven't you
resolved that hereafter she is to be
nothing to yon ?"
"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
"Not a bit of it
"Then be warned," said Bartley,
shortly. "Remember the old story of
tbc moth scorching its wings in the
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
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
"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
_ "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
"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
"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
He carried back the ponderous medi
cal tome to the assistaut librarian.
"Much obliged," be remarked, suc
"Got through with it pretty quick,
haven't you ?" said the assistant li
"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
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
But after be had her hand in his, one
arm carelessly thrown around her
waist, he told her of the moruing oc
"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,
"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
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
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
" 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
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
Her cheeks grew several shades red
der, and her bright blue eyes snapped
as she aiose and stalked out of the of
'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
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
'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
Josh Billings and the Drum
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
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
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
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
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
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
'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
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
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
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
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-
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.
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
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
'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
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
'You don't tell me so.'
'Yes, and be has married a right
youug girl, forty years younger than
'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.