Millheim Journal. (Millheim, Pa.) 1876-1984, January 28, 1886, Image 1
The Millheim Journal, PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY BY JL BTTlyfTfItLEf(. Office in the New Journal Building, Penn St., near Hartman's foundry. SI,OOPBR ANNUM, IN ADVANCE, OR SX.B IF NOT PAID IN ADVAKCB. Acceptable Correspondence SsMel Address letters to MILLHEIM JOURNAL. BUSINESS CARDS HARTER, Auctioneer, MILLHEIM, PA. Y B. STOVER, Auctioneer, Madisonburg, Pa. B.RRIFSNYDKR, Auctioneer, MILLHEIM, PA. J. W, ST AM, Physician ft Surgeon 019 on on Main Street. MILLHKIM, PA. JOHN F. HARTER, Practical Dentist, Office opposite the Methodist Church. MAIN STRXBT, MILLHKIM PA. GEO. L. LEE, Physician ft Surgeon, MADISONBURG, PA. Office opposite the Public School House. P. ARD, M. D., •WOODWARD, PA. JG O. DEININGER, Notary-Public, Journal office, Penn at., Millheim, Pa. SWDeeds and other legal papers written and acknowledged at moderate charges. W. J - SPRmGEK - Fashionable Barber, Haoinq had many years' of experience the public can expect the best loorle and most modern accommodations. Shop S doors west Millheim Banking House MAIN STREET, MILLHEIM, PA. QJBORGE L. SPRINGER, Fashionable Barber, Corner Main E North streets, 2nd floor, Millheim, Pa. Shaving, Haircnttiog, Shampooning, Dying, Ac. done in the most satisfac tory manner. * Joo.H. Orris. C. M. Bower. Ellis L.Orris QBVIB, BOWEB & OBVIB, Attorncys-at-Law. BELLEFONTB, PA., Office la WoodtegeJßaiidlng. D. H. Hastings. W. F. Reed e TJABTINGS4 BEEDEB, iAttorneis-at-Law, BELLEFONTB, PA. Office on Allegheny Street, two doers east of the office oeupled by the late firm of Yocum A Hastings. J O. HETEB, Attorney-st-Lav, BELLEFONTB, PA. At the Office of Ex-Judge Hoy. M"M. C. HEINLE, Atterney-at-Lav BELLEFONTB, PA.. PraeUees In all the eourts of Centre county BpecUl attention to Collections. Consultations In German or English. . A. Rearer. J. W. Gephart. yyEAVER A GEPHART, Attorneys-at-Law, BELLEFONTB, PA. Ofllee en Alleghany Btreet. North of High Street HOUSE, ALLEGHENY ST., BELLEFONTB, PA. O, G. McMHiLEN, PROPRIETOR. Good Sample Room on First Floor. Free Russ to end from all trains. Special rates to witnesses and Jurors. OUMMINS HOUSE, S BISHOP STREET, BELLEFONTB, PA., EMANUEL BROWN, PROPRXRTOB House newly refitted aud refurnished. Ev erything done to make guests comfortable. Rateamodbrat- ] troaage respectfully solid ..- . .... . s-'y . floret,' ' . Ir-'hij, .-i JfXIK i.~I. V .'A . 1 JL (Most Central Hotel In the city.) CORNER OF MAIN AND JAY STREETS LOCK HAVEN, PA. S.WCX)DSOALDWELL ZEOPRIKTOB. Good saraeple rooms for commereUll Travel eo.oa first fioor. ®fw gtlleiii journal R. A. BUMILLER, Editor. VOL. 60. Little Sill's Woi'lv CHAPTER I. Little Bill had knocked off work ear ly; not because he was lazy; oh dear no; there never was such auother industri ous little chap as Bill; but the day had been a fortunate one, and he had sold off all his stock in trade [Bill was in the luclfer match line] and WAS return ing home with sevenpetice clear profit In bis pocket; no wonder he felt happy; no wondsr hia little dirty hand was thrust iuto his pocket,jingling the cop pers pleasantly. He made a call at a cook shop aud bought quite a tat of vitals with four peuce |it's wonderful what you cau do if you only know how to get to maiket] next be stepped into a baker's and pur chased a half a loaf, then left the shop and ran as fast as his thin legs would carry him, never once picking a piece from the bread, wbicb be cuddled un der his arm. Little Bill would not have been a pretty boy even had be been clean, which he decidedly was not ; his eyes were small and sharp, bis nose flat, bis mouth l&ige, and his general appear ance starved; probably be thought that dirt kept him warm, for it covered bim more effectually than did his garments, which bad large ventilation holes here and there, and he evidently made no effort to remove it. Little Bill lived in a court off Fleet street; I shall not commit myself by saying which court,suffice it that 'twas the most narrow and dirty ; probably had you asked Bill be would have said it was a very good court indeed, there was always plenty going ou, innumera ble small publishers brought out their peony papers there,which brought hun dreds of men into the court many times a week, and Bill had almost as much as he could do to give proper attention to the pictures which were posted up outside the offices ; then there was oft en an exciting row, whtah ended in a fight and the poliee; but best of all,now and again two men came with a harp and claronette and played sweet music wbicb almost made Bill ciy, while the other children danced. Little Bill reached the couit, aud, without waiting to look at any of the new pictures which were temptingly displayed, sped away to its darkest corner and entered the dirtiest house ; he staid a moment at the foot of the stairs, while a fit of coughing shook bis thin, emaciated frame, then he begau mounting the dark staircase till ho reached the very top of the house ; ar rived there he turned the haadle of a door and found it locked. "Is that you, Billy ?" said a childish voice. "Is 'at 'ou, Billy ?" said a more childish echo. "Yes, why's the door locked ? Ask father to open it." "Father's gone out; he took the key dowu with bim and said Mrs. Green would give it to you when you came home," said the voice which had first spoken. "When 'ou torn' 'ome," came the echo. Bill did not speak again, but he put down his provisions and retraced his steps as quickly as possible. Mrs.Green occupied the first fioor back. BUI look ed into her room; she was certainly not there. Probably he knew from previous ex perience where to find her, for without a moment's pause he went down the remaining stairs, ran out of the court, and public bar of a public house which stands at the corner of Fetter lane, A number of men and women were standing there drinking, talking and laughing loudly, but pleasantly. Bill went up to a great stout woman and touched her arm. "Please, Mrs. Green," he said, "will you give mo the key of our room ?" Mrs. Green startled and turned round. "Bless us and save us, if it ain't lit tle Bill," she said; "Why, child, how did you koow where to find me ?" "I guessed you'd be here," answered Bill; then, as the rest of the company laughed, he added quickly "'cause I know as you like pleasaut company." . * ' "Well, here's the key," she said, drawing it from her pocket, "blest if I hadn't qlein forgot it;bave a sip of this, Bill." She held a glass of steaming gin and water toward him as she spoke; if possible his face grew paler than be fore, and be turned away. "No, thank you, Mrs. Grsen." "Nonsense, Bill; it'll warm you." He looked up into her face. "I'd rather take a knife," he said, "and kill myself, than touch a drop of that—than learn to like it." He turned away as he spoke, and left the barroom. "Father has blue devils," said Mrs. Green, a& though in apology for little Bill, as she tipped off her beverage, "awful sometimes ; can hear him yell ing frightful; Bill minds him and the MILLHEIM, PA., THURSDAY, JANUARY 28., 1886. other children more like au angel than B human." "Where's the mother V" asked a man. "Lord knows; went oil two years a go; but, bless you,she had them almost as bad at times." Bill soon reached home attain, un* locked the door, left himself in, and was received with every mark of af fection by a small hoy and a smaller girl, both equally as dirty as himself. "I've got you such a prime supper," he said, taking the newspaper cover from the yituals which he had bought at the cook shop, "you must eat it fast, and then go to bed iu case father comes home; he don't like to And you up." He gave the children, each a portion of meat and bread, then sat watching them. "Ain't you going to eat nothing ?" asked Bill's little brother, looking at him in great surprise. "Not yet; don't feel hungry," and a gam the cruel cough shook him. Supper oyer, the children went to a mattress at the further end of the room and laid themselves down. Bill pulled the dirty coverings over them, kissed both their grimmy faces, then wished them good night, "and if father wakes you when he comes in," he added, "don't you let him know it." For a time the children were restless, but at length they sank to sleep, their dirty arms folded each other, their dirty cheeks pressed together. Little Bill sat watching them for a time then rose, drank some water from out a broken pitcher, and set one the remainder of the food. "Father may like it when he comes in," he thought,and then went back to watch the children. After a time he heard alstep upon the stairs, a heavy stumbling step, but he did not move,'and when a man rolled rather than walked into the room, he just lifted his eyes aud looked at him quietly, keenly ; then rose, crossed the room and gently drew the man to a chair. "Head bad, father ?" he asked. "Duoed bad," the man answered shortly. Something was evidently the matter with little Bill's father, ague perhaps, for he shook all over, only his head and hands jerked themselves more than the rest of his body, and now and then his arms shot out spasmodically ; bis face was gray, aud great beads of perspira tion rolled dowu it; his eyes wandered round the room, as though seeking for something fe.ufully. "I'll just put a bandage on y'ead," said Billy quietly; "there aiu't nothing like it. What are you tasking at, fath er ?" The man had risen aud stood gazing in horror at the floor. Bill made him sit down, and hastily bound a dripping rag round bis hedd. "Is it rats, father ?" he asked. The man shivered more than ever. "Yes, look, they're coming on to me." He gave a great scream, and would haye leapt up, but the child's hands re strained him. "There is many, father," he said, quietly and naturally; "but, bless you, they wou't hurt ; see, ihey are quite as close to me as they are to you." The mao's head shook so that the wonder was it did not drop off; and he glared up into the boy's face. "There was such strange things a bout to-night. Bill," be whispered, "lions and tigers—and all after me." Bill expressed no surprise, but thought a minute. "That's very like," he said at last, "I did hear as a menagerie had got loose; did you run, father ?" "And snakes," said the man, not heeding the question. "Ah, to be sure, there would be snakes," then following the man's eyes which opened wider and wider till they almost seemed as though they would drop out, "you don't happen to see auy of them now, do you. father V" He pressed his hand more tigtitly down upon thy man's shoulder, and wetted the rag once more. "There's mllltau's," the man an swered, "all a-coraing this way; let me go." He wrenched his collar from the child's hands, but he caught him by the aim. "Father," he said, "dear, dear fath er, stop a bit ; they wou't hurt you, they're—they're tame snakes, and I want to tell you what I think brings them here." The man sat down again, his eyes riveted toward the fatrher end of the room; the child coughed till he almost shook himself to pieces, then leaned heavily against his father. "It's kind of you to stay and listen to me, father," he said at last, "be cause of course it ain't nice to have rats and snakes, and—and sicii like a crawling about the room if it can be helped, and I think it can, for I believe father,it's the drink that brings them." A PAPER FOR THE HOME CIRCLE. "What 1" yelled llie man, "d'you mean to insinuate that I takes too much; that they ain't there really; that I only sees them in my mind, you—" "No, no, father," said the b >?, gent ly interrupting him ; "why, don't I Bee them as plain as anything, all a-run niug and a crawling oyer each other ?" "But they're gone now," said the man suspiciously. "Of course they is ; you frightened them when you leaped up and yelled. They can't abide uolse, but the Lord knows how soon they'll be back again. Why,l do believe,"watching the man's eyes, "that they're a-coming now Let me bath your head again, father." Once more the dripping cloth was bound around the mao's brow, once more the child was shaken witu his cough. "As I was a-saying, lather," the boy continued, "I think'lt's the drink, the smell of it, as draws them ; I've heard that snakes and rats and them sorts are uncommon partial to spirits, and you see, father,there's gen erally a little smell of it about you, though it's but one glass you've took." Again the man looked strangely iuto the child's face. "Partial to spirits, are they I Where did you bear that ?" 'Well, I can't exactly say, father; but I've heard that ia IndiaandFrance and—and Iceland, where sich things live, and bite, father, for they're not quiet and harmless like they is here, that they fill tanks with spirits over night, and in the morning there's hun dreds lying about as drunk as cau be, a-singing and—l mean a-hissing and a biting of each other like winkie ; then the people sweeps them up,*and bums them; so I thought father, that if that was the case there, may be you, though you ain't to say strong of spirits, yet do smell a little, might draw them var mints here, for they don't come when me and the little ones is alone ; and p'rhaps, father, if you just took a beer for a time, they might go away far enough not to be drawn by the smell, if you did have a glaas ot spirit*,now nod again.' Once more the child stopped to cough and again dipping the rag in water laid it on the man's head. 'Try and eat a bit, father,' be said, and silently the man turned to the vit- Udls, then, uttering a mighty scream, flung the boy from him and rushed out of the room. Bill fell, but was on his feet in a mo ment, aud after bis father ; the two children sat up in bed, tut he had no time to notice Ihern ; down the stairs he weut, through the couit, along Fleet street, up the Strand, on, on, keeping his father still iu sight till they came to Trafalgar square, then foi a moment the man stopped, then dashed toward one of the fountain ponds and sprang in; quick as thought Bill followed, and they beat about in the water together, the child pulled at the man, drawing hiin toward the edge, and at length they crawled out. 'How did it happen ?' said the man, sobering up at last. Bill coughed again and shivered. , 'Why,' he said, quite calmly and naturally, 'we was running a race, aud you fell into this 'ere water, and like a silly fool I couldn't stop myself and fell in alter. Let's go home, father.' CHAPTER 11. Little Bill was ill, in fact bad been ill for some time, but no one bad no ticed it ; the other lodgers thought his cough a nuisauce, as it often awoke them at night, but it never entered their heads that there was anything the matter with little Bill's lungs. How ever, some days after his ducking in the fountain pond in Trafalgar square little Bill found, to his utter amaze ment, one morning that it was impos sible to move from his mattress; it had been-a trouble often, but at last he re ally could not get up. 'Sid,' he said, giving his brother a push, 'Sid, aiu't it queer ; I can't get up ¥' Sid awoke from his slumbers slowly and rubbed his eyes. 'Can't get up, Billy,' he said, 'why not ?' 'Well, I don't know ; it's mighty queer, but it's because I cau't, I sup pose. I feel so strange, and faint-lise, that you'll best wake father, perhaps.' Father, strange to say, had stuck to beer for the last two or three days, and came home each night only moderately, almost respectably, drunk; consequent ly the snakes aud rats, not attracted by the spirit smell, had not put in an ap pearance. Siil ran to his father's bed and shook him. 'Father,' he said, 'father, Billy can't get up.' Father opened his eyes. 'What." lie said. 'Billy can't get up.' 'Why can't he ?' 'He don't know, bnt he cau't.' rather rolled out of bed, and went across to the children's mattress. 'Why can't you get up, Bill, my boy ?' he said. 'I don't know, father ; but I fee) so weak and strange.' lie coughed violently as he spoke, and then a crinism stream flowed from his mouth, and over the dirty cover ings; father's face turned very white, and he raised the boy's head. •Run Sul,' he said,'run for a doctor.' Sid paused a moment io horror, then left the room, fell rather than walked down the stairs, scampered through the court, on as fast as his little legs could carry him; he had no idea where to find a doctor, and probably would have run on forever, or at least till he dropped, had a policeman uot stopped him. 'Where are you going, boy ?' he ask ed. Sid looked up, and in bis agitation did not notice the man's uniform. 'Oh, please sir,' he said, 'are you a doctor ?' 'No, my boy; d'you want one ?' 'Oh yes, sir, please sir, Bill's cut his mouth without a knife,aud its bleeding frightful.' The policeman took the boy's hand, and hurried him aloug till he came to a chemist's shop : it was early in the morning and the shutters had not yet been taken down, so the policeman rang the bell. In a few moments one of the upper windows was raised, and a bead came out. 'Wanted, sir,' said the policeman. The window was shut, and in a few moments the door of the shop was un fastened. 'Where to ?' said the policeman, speaking to Sid. 'Oh, please sir, I'll show you.' He ran in frout of them, and they followed quickly; at length they reached the court. Sid rushed into the bouse, up the stairs and soon the doctor and policeman stood at little Bill's mat tress. 'Father' moyed away, and the doc tor knelt, took the thin hand iu his,felt the pulse, lifted the boy's head, looked into the white*face,then shook his head sadly. 'Nothing can save him,' be said. 'Father'threw himself down by Bill's side. 'Little Bill,* he said, 'little Bill.' Bill opened his eyes, the blood bad ceased to flow, and only the dark stain showed what bad happened. Poor lit tle Bill, he bad never had much blood in his weak, thin body ; it could not tang supply such a stream. 'You don't no rats, father,* he whispered. 'No, Bill, my child—my dailing.' •Nor snakes, father ?' 'No, no.' 'Nor—nor nothing, father ?' 'Nothing, Bill—but you.' 'lt's all along of beer,' said the child faintly; 'they don't smell nothing now. But father, dear, dear father—promise me you won't go back to the spirits ; Sid can't see as I see, and you have to look at them alone, for I'm—going,' he paused a moment, and his eyes half closed, then he opened them again and looked up. 'The little ones would be frightened if they saw them, father,' he said, 'stinging ones might come in time, and kill you all; sc promise me father, that you'll not go back to spirits ; promise little Bill.' Rouud little Bill 'father's' arms were clasped, and he drew him close, close to his side. 'I promise,' he said, 'and I will keep* my word, so help me Gcd.' A smile flitted across the child's face, his eyes closed slowly, till his lashes rested upon his white cheeks, one sigh broke from his lips, then all was still. For a moment his father looked at him silently, then ciied aloud : 'Little Bill, little Bill, speak to me.' But little Bill's work was done, and God had taken him. A Bird's Foresight. In California the woodpecker stores acorns away, although he never eats them. He bores several holes, differ ing slightly in size, at the fall of the year, invariably m a pine tree. Then he finds an acorn, which he adjusts to to one of the holes prepared for its re ception. But he does not eat the a corn, for, as a rule, he is not a vegetar ian. His object iu storing away,the a corns exhibits foresight and knowledge of results more akin to reason than to instinct. The succeeding winter the acorn remains intact, but, becoming saturated, is predisposed to decay, when it is attacked by maggots, who seem to delight in this special food. It is then that the woodpecker reaps the harvest his wisdom has provided, at a time when, the ground being covered with snow, he would experience a diffi culty otherwise iu obtaining suitable or palatable food. A California man has a defect in his eyes which causes him to see every ob ject multiplied nineteen times. He would be a treasure in a thousand ways. What a man to take the Chica go census. Terms, SIOO per Year, in Advance. Reawakened Memory. Two years ago a young man living in a Vermont village, having finished his academical education, was ready to en ter college. But just before the day appointed for his examination he was taken ill. After several weeks of suf fering he slowly recovered his health, but discoyered that his mind had lost the knowledge acquired by six years of hard study. Latin, Greek, and mathe matics, all were gone, and his mind was a blank in respect to his prepara tory studies. His doctor prescribed that he should rest his mind.and famil iarize himself with the few simple de tails of light work. He obeyed, and found, in his old habit of doiog things carefully, the school raaster that brought back his olcl know ledge. Before his illness the young man, in order to earn a little money, had taken care of the village church, sweeping it out, cleaning the lamps and doing the work of a sexton. He now resumed this work, and by the physician's ad vice tried to keep his mind from puzz ling itself about his memory. Several weeks went by without bringing any change in his mental condition. One Sunday eveniug a stranger en tered the church, and, as the sermon was a dull one, gazed carelessly around until his attention was attrcted by the lamps on the wall. He noticed that all the wicks were so carefully trimmed that there was not an irregular flame to be seen. He wondered as to who could be the careful sexton, and, happening to be in tbe place the following Sunday, he again noticed the same uniform trimming of the wicks. Passing the church next day, and see ing the door open, he walked quietly in, and saw the young sexton sweeping out the central isle. Looking closely at the young man, tbe stranger asked: 'Do you do all the work about the church ?' 'Yes, sir.' 'Do you trim the lamps ?' 'Yes, *ir.' 'Why do you trim them in such a pe culiar way?' 4 1 don't know what you mean ?' •Why, the flames are all alike.* 'Oh, but they ought to be. You would" not have them uneven, would you ?' 'No,' answered the stranger, with a smile. 'But it speaks well for your carefulness. Why, I should think one of the flames would fit all the others ex actly if it were superimposed on them/ 'Superimposed I Isn't that word us ed in geometry V 'Certainly If polygons, having equal sides and angles— 1 Before the stranger could finish his sentence the student threw down his broom, rushed frantically out of the church, ran across the street and into bis house, where he astonished his mother by exclaiming, in tones of tri umph, '.Mother, I know that the square of the hypothenuse of a right angle tri angle is equal to the sum of the squares of the other two sides !' In a moment his school knowledge had come back to him, flashed into his mind by the mention of superimposed figures. Kisses By Mail. A young postmaster of a village post office was hard at work, when a gentle tap was heard upon the door and in stepped a bashful maiden of sixteen, with a money order which she desired cashed. She handed it, with a bashful smile, to the official, who, after closely examining it, gave her the money it called for. At the same time be asked her if she had read what was written on the margin of the order. "No, I have not," she replied, "for I cannot mako it out. Will you please read it for me ?" The young postmaster read as follows: "I send you three dollars and a dozen kisses." Glancing at the bashful girl. he said: "Now, I have paid you the money and 1 suppose you want the kisses." "Yes," she said, "if he has sent me any kisses, I want them, too." It is hardly necessary to say that the balance of the order was promptly paid, and in a scientific manner at that, and eminently satisfactory to the country maiden, for she went out of the office smacking her lips as if there was a taste upon them she had never encountered before. After she arrived home she remarked to her mother: "Eh, mother, but this post-office sys tem of ours is a great thing, deyeloping more and more every year, and each new feature seems to be the best. Jimmy sent rae a dozen kisses along with the money order, and the post master gave me twenty. It beats the special delivery system all hollow." "How old are you V" asked a Justice of the Peace of "Jim" Webster, who was under arrest for stealing chickens "I dunuo," said the darky. "When were you born?" "What am de use of my tellin' you my buffday; you ain't gwine to make me no buffday present." NO. 4- HKWBPAPBR LAWS If subscriber?! order the dIMODHuHAtoo of newspapers, the publishers may continue to send them until all arrearages are paid, t If subscrllers refuse or ncgU ct to take their newspapers from the to whlohthey aresent they are held resjMnslhle until they ua*e settled the bills ai.d ordered thein rtisrontli.ut*!. If subscribers move toother places without in form In the publisher, end the newspapers *r* sent to the former place, they are rtsponblDle AD 7 B RTTOINO RATIO. 1 wk. 1 mo. 13 mos. 6 mos. 1 yea 1 square *2OO *4 00 *5 00 *G on **oo H " 700 10 00} 1500 30 00 40 00 1 " 1000 15 00 1 2500 4500 7500 Oue inch makes a square. Administrators and Executors' Notices *-/>O. Tcansleqt adter ttsenients aud locals lOeentarper line for imt insertion and 5 ccuts psr line for each addition al insertion' A STRUGGLE IN LIFE . Army Wrecks, and the Way in whioh They were Made. "You want to know why I gave the old fellow a dollar?" asked an ex-army officer, as I questioned the propriety of the donation that he had made to a rather rough specimen of humanity, who had asked for money enough to get him a dinner. "The case stands this way," he said ; "there are men who ask me to help them who cannot get their own consent to ask others. This is not beeause I am under obligations to them, but be cause tbey know that I know the stuff they are made of. Now, this poor fel low was always-run down at the heel in the army. I have seen him do a great many things that I felt at the time I could not have done. His one good quality was hi* capacity to do the right thing in time of battle or in time of great excitement, aud I nave compli mented him scores of times upon deeds of uncommon bravery. "While he was in the army his moth er died, and his father made a disrepu table marriage. In the yeiy last year of the war bis wife rau away with an old rival, and tbe boy that he cared most for went to the bad. The first thing this good fighter did when he left the service was to use his pay and extra bounty in prolooging a disgraceful spree. He got into all sorts of trouble and disgrace, and nobody cared to have mucti to do with him. I found him sick and ready to die.? Remembering what the man bad been, and remember ing the discouragements that met him when he came out of the service, I made an attempt to saye him. "I did save him in so far ae prevent ing him from becoming a drunkard is concerned, bat since the last engage ment in front of Atlanta tbe man has not had the spirit of a squaw. He has worked hard, but nearly always at a disadvantage. Wben be gets down be comes to me because he knows that I will understand that he Is in need. He is the sort of fellow, you know, who, rather than submit to any humiliation trom an old comrade, would walk out the pier and jump into the lake. My heart is sorely troubled over the ques tion of what we shall do with such men. "There is another type of the unfor tunate soldier of a higher grade than this that ought to be looked after. The young man who went into the army from the purest and highest motives, who lost his health and strength and capacity to do in the hard service of actual war, and who came out of the service saddened, proud, and highspir ited, as only a thoroughly educated soldier can be, and took up the burdens —the new burdens— of civil life, with out a murmer, with scarcely a hope such a man stands for % class. There are thousands of men whose army edu cation stimulated and cultivated a nat ural pride that was very great. Their experience in the army contributed also to the growth of a sensitiveness that has become morbid. "Their struggle in life since the war has not made them grumblers, but it has not blunted their sensitiveness. They have never asked for pension or for favor of any kind. csome of them are burdens to their family, or are de pending for their supporl upon appre ciative friends. They are dropping off by the hundred every year, going down without a murmur, without any credit mark, with simply a crooked leg or an empty sleeve or an ugly scar pointing to a record of rare courage in the army. It is not strange to me that such men would rather come to an old comrade for help than to go to a soldiers' home or to the public. I can't explain it, but I can understand it, and so I gave the man a dollar."— Chicago Inter-Ocean, AN ANBODOTB. A prominent Methodist bishop asked President Liucolm, early in the war, what was to be his policy on the slavejy question. 'Bishop,' said Mr. Lincoln, 'your question is rather a cool one, but I will answer it by telling you a story. You know Father 8., the old Metho dist preacher, and you know Fox Riv er and its freshets V Well, once in the presence of Father 8., a young Metho dist was worrying about Fox River, and expressing fears that he should be prevented from fulfilling some. of his appointments by a freshet in the river. Father 8., checked him in his jjpravest manner. Said he: 'Young man. I have always made it a rule in my life not to cross Fox River till I got to it.' And.' said the president, '1 am not go ing to worry myself over the slavery question till I get to it.' The bishop smiled but said nothing. A few days afterward a young .Methodist minister called on the president, and on being presented to him, simply said : 'Mr. President, I have come to tell you that I think we have got to Fox River 1* Mr. Lincoln .thanked the clergyman and laughed heartily, adding, with a smile, 'Some of us have been troubled of late about the stories of corruption * to be developed by investigations at Washington; bat now we have got to Fox River, ank it don't seem to be much of a storm after all.'