The Millheim Journal,
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY BY
JL BTTlyfTfItLEf(.
Office in the New Journal Building,
Penn St., near Hartman's foundry.
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MILLHEIM, PA.
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MILLHEIM, PA.
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Physician ft Surgeon
019 on on Main Street.
MILLHKIM, PA.
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Office opposite the Methodist Church.
MAIN STRXBT, MILLHKIM PA.
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W. J - SPRmGEK -
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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,
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Corner Main E North streets, 2nd floor,
Millheim, Pa.
Shaving, Haircnttiog, Shampooning,
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tory manner. *
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BELLEFONTB, PA.,
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BELLEFONTB, PA.
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the office oeupled by the late firm of Yocum A
Hastings.
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BELLEFONTB, PA.
At the Office of Ex-Judge Hoy.
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Atterney-at-Lav
BELLEFONTB, PA..
PraeUees In all the eourts of Centre county
BpecUl attention to Collections. Consultations
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. 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
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OUMMINS HOUSE, S
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EMANUEL BROWN,
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erything done to make guests comfortable.
Rateamodbrat- ] troaage respectfully solid
..- . .... . s-'y
. floret,' '
. Ir-'hij, .-i JfXIK i.~I. V .'A . 1
JL
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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
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they are held resjMnslhle until they ua*e settled
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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.'