The Millheim Journal,
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY BY
Office in the New Journal Building,
Penn St, near Hartman's foundry.
SI.OO PBR ANNUM, IN ADVANCE,
OR $1.96 IF NOT PAID IN ADVANO*.
e •- .
Acceptable Cormjosta Solicited
Address letters to MILLIIKIM JOURNAL.
BUSINESS CARDS
\ BARTER,
Auctioneer,
MILLHEIM, PA.
y B. STOVER^
Auctioneer,
Madison burg, Pa.
H.REIFSNYDKR,
Auctioneer,
MILLHEIM, PA.
J. W. ST AM,
Physician & Surgeon
Office on Main Street.
MILLHEIM, PA.
JJR. JOHN R HARTER,
Practical Dentist,
Office opposite the Methodist Church.
MAIN STREET, MILLHEIM PA.
~QR. GEO. L. LEE,
Physician & Surgeon,
MADISONBURG, PA.
Office opposite the Public Sch 00l House.
T P. ARD, M. D..
WOODWARD, PA
O. DEININGER,
Notary-Public,
Journal office, Penn st., Millheim, Fa.
49*Deds and other legal papers written and
acknowledged at moderate charges.
T jn~ J. SPRINGER,
Fashionable Barber,
Havinq had many years' of experiencee
the public can expect the best v>ork and
most modern accommodations.
Bhop 2 doors west Millheim Banking House
MAIN STREET, MILLHEIM, PA.
L. SPRINGER,
Fashionable Barber,
Corner Main & North streets, 2nd floor,
Millheim, Pa.
Shaving, Haircutting, Shainpoor.irg,
Dying, &c. done in the most satisfae
tory manner.
Jno.H. Orvis. C. M. Bower. Ellis L.Orvis-
QRYIS, BOWER & ORVIS,
Attorneys-at-Law,
BELLEFONTB, PA.,
Office in Woodingslßnilding.
D. H. Hastings. W. F. Rueder -
JJASTINQS & REEDER,
Attorneis-at-Law,
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Office on Allegheny Street, two doars east of
the office ocupied by the late firm of Yocuin A
Hastings.
J C. MEYER,
Attorney-at-Law,
BELLEFONTE, PA.
At the Office of Ex-Judge Hoy.
C. HEINLE,
Attorney-at-Lav
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Practices In all the courts of Centre county
Special attention to Collections. Consultations
In German or Kpsllah.
. A.Beaver. J. W.Gephart.
JGEAYER & GEPHART,
Attorneys-at-Law,
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Office on Alleghany Street. North of High Street
HOUSE,
ALLEGHENY ST., BELLEFONTE, PA.
C. Q. McMILLEN,
PROPRIETOR.
Good Sample Room on First Floor. Free
Buss to and from all trains. Bpeclal rates to
witnesses and jurors.
OUMMINS HOUSE,
BISHOP STREET, BELLEFONTE, PA.,
EMANUEL BROWN,
PROPRIETOR
House newly refitted and refurnished. Ev
erything done to make guests comfortable.
Rates mode ra* # tronage respectfully solici
ted 5-U
"J~RVIN HOUSE,
(Mo3t Central Hotel in the city.)
CORNER OF MAIN AND JAY STREETS
LOCK HAVEN, PA.
S.WOODS~CALDWELL
PROPRIETOR.
Good sanieple rooms for commercial Travel
ers, on first floor.
R. A. BUMILLER, Editor.
VOL. (JO.
'I'HK TWO I(Kf{OKS.
CHAPTER I.
Tsn't that fellow at ycur house rath
er prosy V' asked one young hank clerk
of auother as they sallied oil' together
for an evening walk.
'Prosy ! that isu't half ; he is one of
the pokiest fellows in the world. Have
a cigar, Fred ?'
'Thank you. llow did you get such
fine cigars ?'
'By paying for them.'
'You are growing daintier and finer
every day. It is a wonder to me how
you get so much out of five hundred a
year. Of course, you do not have to
pay your board as I do; and there is no
need of a sou of a president of a bank
to depend wholly upon himself iu any
way, I suppose.'
'The president of a bank does not a
gree with you, I am sorry to say.
Father gives me a lecture every once in
a while. But one can't be young hut
once, and I intend to enjoy myself.
Going to the party, Fred ?'
'I want to go badly enough ; but
what with a new suit, a girl, etc., it
would more than swamp me. I am in
debt already for a suit I have half
worn out. I tell you, Wal, five hundred
a year is not hall enough to live on if
one can't have it all for spending mon
ey, as you do. They don't give us e
nougb.*
'Of course they don't. I Can't begin
to live on my salary. I think I have
earned twice as much as I have receiv
ed eyery year I have been in the bank.
There is one good thing about being
prosy, as you call it, like Holloway ;
since he has no genteel habits, and is
contented to be a common drudge, he
can not only live on his salary,bu; saye
two-tbirds of it. The shabby, stingy
fellow is actually putting money in the
bank; although he hasn't a decent suit
of clothes to his name,and looks so like
destruction that he is not fit to sit at
the first table, much less to be in a re
spectable bank.'
'How did he happen to get the
place ?'
'His giandfather did something for
my father when he was a boy, I be
lieve. After Uolloway's parents died,
father heard that he was Eft poor, and
sent word that if he would come here
he could go into the bank, and pay his
board at our house by doing chores
He sees to the furnace, helps about the
horses, etc. Father will not let any
one cl3e say anything, but I heard linn
tillinc Hall way a mv.tli ago that he
had better get some new clothes. Hal
loway didn't say much ; but he hasn't
auy new clothes yet, although be is
gettiog shabby enough to disgrace the
family.'
'He is too young and green to suit
you. I neVer saw you speak to him.'
'I didn't care so much about his be
ing two years younger than I am ; and
as to his greenness, I was good-natured
and foolish enough, to begin with, to
think I would initiate him a little. But
his verdancy proved to be so hopeless
and his tastes so common that I soon
gave up my benevoleut efforts. His
primness, too, was utterly discouraging.
I offered him a cigar once, and what do
you think the dingy ragamullia said ?'
'I cannot imagine.'
'He said he could not afford to
smoke, arid if he could he should not
like to soil his mouth witli tobacco.
Now isn't that a good j ike for a fellow
who has his hands in coal and hay a
good part of the time, and not a decent
coat to li 13 hack ? Afraid of soiling
his mouth !'
'I should think so ! Tlah ! Has he
eyer been to the theatre V
; No ; although at the time I under
took to be good-natured I offered him a
ticket. I did not ask him to go with
me, because he wa3 so avvkard and
shabby ; but I thought I would do the
best I could.'
'Didn't he want to go ?'
'I presume he was too bashful to go
alone; but the excuse he gave was that
he did not want to take presents. He
said that if he should ever make up his
mind to go to the theatre he would bny
his own tickets, although he thanked
me for the offer. I gave him up after
that; he goes his way and I go mine.
AH I know about him is that he plods
away at sornetniug in his room all the
spaie time that he lias, and that he has
saved nearly a hundred dollars this
year, although his salary is only a hun
dred and fifty. Father says such a
steady, saving young man will be rich
some day, and I tell him he will be dull
and uninteresting into the bargain.
Why, the fellow never went to dancing
school in his life, and he would not
know what to do if he were in compuiy
with a young lady. The girls never
take any notice of the poor fellow, and
even mother can't bear to have him a
round, he is so shabby and so sober. If
it were not for father he would have a
hard time of it.'
'By the way, Wal, I heard you gave
Jennie French a diamond ring awhile
ago. Isn't that rather steep ? You
MILLHEIM, PA., THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 18., 1880.
must be made of money. It is all 1
can do to take u girl t.a. theatre once
in a white, or to a festival. 1
4 All, Fred. you don't know the tricks
of the trade yet. There are games in
life that young men can play about as
well as o'der men play theirs. Do you
know how half the rich men get their
money V Why, they get it by tricks of
some hind.'
'Did your father tell you so ?' .
'Father I Not much ! 1I is not
very rich, and never will he ; ho is not
shrewd enough, an! he is too nonsensi
cal. If I thought you would not he
silly, I would tell you something that
would give you a hint how to increase
your ialary to the full worth of your
services.'
'Do tell me, if you have any compas
sion. To own up, Wal, I am badly in
dent, and afraid enough that my father
will find it out.'
•All right. Let us get out of this
crowded street first. (-01110 over into
the Park.'
II
Just after Walter and his friend left
the house together, a middle-aged gen
tlemau rang the bell and inquired for
John Halloway.
'He is not in,' replied the servant.
'May I see Mr. Emmons, then V
The visitor was ushered into the
library, where sat a fine-looking,affable
gentleman, who greeted the stranger
cordially, and to whom the latter in
troduced himself as Mr. Andrews. He
said he had been a neighbor of John's
father, and after Mr. Halloway lost his
wife and was in a bad way himself,bad
lent him a little money—about a hun
dred dollars.
After Mr. Halloway died, the sale of
his effects barely served to pay the bills
for his sickness and funeral. As no
one was left but the boy of fifteen, Mr.
Andrews had not presented the note he
held for the loan, or as much as men
tioned lh Ul>L t* auy uoo. 1L uppcaiud,
however,that John had found a memo
randum of the debt among his father's
papers, and had come at once to Mr.
Andrews to express his determination
to cancel it as soon as he could earn
enough.
'Nevermind. John,' said I. 'Your
father would have paid it had he lived
and regained his health ; but you are
ui.der no obligations to do so. If you
can earn your own living you will do
well. Be sure I shall never ask you for
the money, or tell any one that your
f ither owed P. In f;ct, I would will-
i'-tl'v hnv- given s good a .una as
IUUC i i:i his necessity, and ho was al
ways a kind aiul obliging neighbor.'
•After John went away I forgot all
about it, for I felt very sure tho boy
would have too much to do in earning
his living to insist upon the payment of
! this old debt o? his father. But here,
i yesterday, I received money for the
payment of the debt, with interest to
date. I have come in post-haste to see
about it. I do not want the money
from the boy, and I certainly will not
take any interest. It is too bad.'
'Too bad ? Not at all, sir. It is
jnst right. I knew nothing about the
debt, but I am very glad to hear this
account of John's honesty. It is what
i I should have expected of him under
the circumstances ; and this explains
why ne has denied himself everything
ihe could do without. I have just sent
him on an errand, but he will be back
soon. Hapny the man, living or dead,
who has a son like that ! lie will make
his mark in the world in moro ways
than one. Why, he has read half the
books in this library since he has been
here, besides doing his work at the
hank and chores at home and running
of errands for every one of us. Our
delicately-nurtured city hoys are fail-
I ures compared with a boy like this.
My son Walter is a fine fellow in his
way ; but I should no more think of
! asking him to do the things that John
does than I should think of asking him
I to fly. Ah ! here comes the hero.
A plainly dressed boy of between six
teen and seventeen, with a fine open
countenance and modest appearance,
entered the library, and his rather so
her face brightened into radiance when
i he saw Mr. Andrews.
In the conversation which followed
John said he could not see that he de
served praise for paying the debt ; his
father had brought him up to be honest
and to consider it a disgrace to leave
any debt unpaid; as his father's death
' prevented him from canceling the debt
himself, that duty devolved tlie
son, not only in justice,but for keeping
! good his father's name and his own.
He not ouly would not consent to his
friend's request that he would allow
i him to return a pait of the sum, but
i he would not accept back the inteiest
which he had added.
! After the admiring creditor had
gone, with the remark, 'let no one say
hereafter that there are no honest per
: sons in the world,' John said gaily :
| 'I think I can pretty soonaff.ud some
new clothes, and look more respecta
ble.'
A PAPER FOR THE HOME CIRCLE
'Those old clothes have been a credit
to you, John,' replied Mr. Emmons
with emotion'-—''more credit, l>y fir,
than many of our young dandies'
clo'hes are to them. At some future
day, when many of them go thread
bare, you can wear your broadcloth
with honor.'
At that moment another Ciller was
announced, and John left the room.
111.
The visitor was the cashier of the
bank of which Mr. Emmons w.is presi
dent, lie looked sad and anxious, and
asked Mr. Emmons if he was sine that
no one could overhear their conversa
tion.
'We are quite alone,' replied Mr.
Emmons ; 'but what is the matter ?
Has anything happened to the batik V'
'Almost the worst. One of our
clerks is a defaulter; he has during the
past year appropriated money to lite a
mount of several thousand dollars. It
has been done so gradually and m such
ail ingenious manner that the embezzle
ment might have gone on undiscovered
but for a singular int ideat this after
uoon.'
'Who is the thief ?' demanded Mr.
Emmons.
The cashier was si'ent, but his awed
and sorrowful countenance was answer
enough.
'Can it be my son ?' exclaimed Mr.
Emmons.
'lt is he,' replied the cashier, wiping
his face with his handkerchief. 'But,'
he added quickly, T have come as soon
a3 possible, Mr. Etnraons, before the
matter has got beyond the bank, to see
if it cannot be paid and hushed up.'
Mr. Emmons looked like a man who
had received a heavy blow ; but lie an
swered firmly, though in a terribly
broken voice :
'lt can be paid, but it cannot be
hushed. I said the list time that an
affair of this kind was hushed up in
tMsctty, after more than one young
man had been tempted to embezzle
ment by just such cloaking of fraud,
that I would never connive to let any
young man go free of his country's
laws. I said it openly, and now I will
not shield nfty son from the punishment
he so richly deserves. There is but one
thing to be done at present, and that is
to arrest the culprit at once.'
The cashier liggged Mr. Emmons not
to he hasty ; to consider the mother's
and sister's grief, Walter's youth, and
tiie ineffaceable blot which would he
cast upon his future. Tie spoke of the
young man's amiability and generosity,
ot his being such a favorite in society.'
'Not to save my own life, or that of
wife or daughter, will I be more leni
ent to my son than I would be to any
other man's,' replied Mr. Einmous,
firmly. 'lf you will not inform the
sheriff I will go myself.'
'No, I will go,' replied the cashier.
'You will be needed here to prepare
your family for the blow.'
When Walter reached home, it was
to find his mother and sister in tears
and sobs, his father looking ten years
older than when he last saw him at the
supper table, and the sheriff solemnly
awaiting him in the midst of the ago
nizing group.
After a brief but distressing scene
the young man was led away by the of
ficer,an 1 his mother sank tainting into
his father's arms.
As boon a3 possible Mr. Emmons
followed his son to the jail, and there,
in the quiet of the dreary cell, the
young man confessed all, even to the
fact of haying told Fredrick Copp how
to add to his salary by theft, and per
suaded the young man to think serious
ly of an attempt to do so. Now that
Walter was brought to view hi 3 act
from his father's standpoint, he began
to realize the enormity of his crime,not
only against the bank,but the common
wealth and the family whose happi
ness depended on his honor and his
good name.
lie humbly promised Mis father to a
bide strictly by the latter's advice,
whicli was that lie should declare him
self guilty, and take his State Prison
sentence as the best thing for himself
and the community. During years of
solitude and hard lab ir there would be
opportunity for the iron conviction
that honesty is one of the most necess
ary foundations of manly character to
sink denp into his soul. Then, if he
could come out purified as by fire, and
face the community he had wronged,
with the a.'termination to live down a
disgrace so terrible, and firmly carry
out that determination,"let the world
sneer as it might at this error of the
past, it could not rob him of the satis
• faction of having suffered for his sin,
and become heroically manly on ac
count of it.
Walter Emmons was taken away
from the jail to serve out his sentence
in State Prison, while John Halloway,
whose honesty had been as accidentally
and clearly established as had Walter's
guilt, was, upon Mr. Emmons' repre
sentation, promoted to the place Wal
ter had held in the bank.
During tho years that followed John
took the place of a kind and thoughtful
son and brother in that sorrowing fam
ily.
IV.
After five long years had passed,
Walter returned home, a grave,sorious,
earnest man, with the one purpose In
life to win back the conlldenca of his
friends and the community in general.
He declined to accept any position of
irust, although several such positions
were offered by those who were confi
dent that he, of all men, would now be
honest; he prefeirad to go into a man
ufacturing establishment and perform
manual labor, as this was a position
not calculated to awakeD remarks re
garding his past breach of trust. He
applied himself steadily to his work,
dressed plajnly, and laid aside all that
he could to repay his father for the loss
which the latter had made good to the
bank. It was slow work, but lie re
fused to accept his father's offer to
throw off the interest ; and as he rose,
by his fidelity and careful study of the
interests of the concern, to a paaition
which commanded a good salary, he
accumulated the amouut in the course
of eight years
Walter declared that it was the hap
piest moment of his life when he pre
sented his father with the last spay
ment due ; aud he certainly looked as
happy a* a serious young man of thirty
could look. It was thirteen years since
he had laughed with his friend over the
plainly-dressed, bashful young country
boy, who was now an honored cashier
in the bank of which the young man
who had once pronounced him "pro3y"
was now a teller. John Halloway was
shortly to marry Eiith Emmons, the
noble and beautiful daughter of the
family, who had not been too old to sit
upon his knee when he first came to
live at her father's.
'I am thirty old to-day,' said
Walter, 'and I hope to live as many
more, that I may have time to as fully
retrieve the past as it is in human pow
er to atone for a wrong act. I know
I do not stand as well with the world
in general as 1 didbefore these thirteen
years of suffering aud hard work and
honest endeavor to do well, but in my
own sonl I know that, thanks to your
firmness, father, I have more character
to-day than I had when I wa9 a self-in
dulgent, dandified young man, and
thought it manly to smoke and dress
finely and make a show in society.'
'And with all that lies between, my
son, I am prouder of yon than I ever
was then,' replied Mr. Emmons brush
ing away a tear. 'He who has retriev
ed an error by patient suffering and
well-doing may wear a crown that shall
not only conceal the brand that was
given for his crime, but eventually ob
literate it.'
'God grant it may be so,* said the
young man fervently.
Mrs. Smith—l am very sorry, Mrs.
Hendricks, but I consider it my duty
to inform you that I saw your husband
coming out of a saloon last evening.
Mrs. Hendricks—What time was it,
Mrs. Smith ?
Mrs. Smith—About 8 o'clock.
Mrs. Hendricks—Did you say he was
coming out or going in ?
Mrs. Smith—Coming out.
Mrs. Hendricks (positively) You
have mistaken him for some one else.
John never comes out of a saloon as
early as 8 o'clock.
V.
A year later the terrible storm of ciy
il war burst upon the United States,
ana the bugle call to arms resounded
through the land.
Walter Emmons was among the very
first to enlist- John Holloway would
gladly have done the same ,* but one of
them was needed at home, and Walter
entreated that this opportunity might
not be denied him. By his own exer
tions and enthusiasm he collected about
liira men enough to form a company,
and his cool and fearless bravery in
many engagements soon raised him to
the rank of colonel.
Upon one of the battlefields whose
name will not die out of history, yolun
teers were called for to lead a desperate
attack upon a very formidable battery.
Not more than one out of twenty of
the leading force could probably sur
vive the charge.
Co'onel Emmons replied: 'lf my men
will follow me I will gladly lead the
charge.'
The regiment, who had learned to
love their commander, not only for his
bravery, but on accouAt of his kindness
of heart and genial manners, immedi
ate'y wayed their hats, cheered, and
cried :
'We will follow you.'
•It will be a fearful charge,' said the
General.
•For that reason it is well fitting that
I should undertake it,' replied the
Colonel firmly audcheerfully. 'I would
be glad to spare my men, if it were a
soldier's duty to spare in time of need ;
but for myself no risk can be too great;
I should be happy to die for my
country.'
The charge was immediately made,
Terms, SIOO per Year, in Advance.
with galLuit fearlessness and determi
nation.
Colonel Emmons was scaling the
parapet, amid the itmnant of those
who had followed him, while the aiding
column was pressing on behind over
the bodies of his men, who lay thickly
in the path up to the battery. His left
arm hung useless by his side, his face
was covered wth powder and blood,
his uniform was wet with the life-blood
of men who had fallen by his side ; but
he waved his hat and cried in trumpet
tones :
'Press ou, boys ! press on 1'
Just then a well aimed bullet entered
bis left side, aud he fell mortally
wounded, just as the Uuion flag was
planted within.the battery and fresh
troops were pouring over the parapets
to make good the victory.
Tenderly he was borne to a place of
safety, but he survived only long
enough to know that the battery had
been securely taken.
'Tell my father,' said he, with blanch
ing lips, 'that I died happy in the hope
that my service for my country might
in part atone for the sin and foliy of
my youth.'
*-*1 * * *
On the Emmons lot. in the beautiful
cemetery, there arose a granite shaft,
upon which was inscribed ;
To the Memory of
COLONEL WALTER EMMONS.
He Died In the Service of his Country.
Below is inscribed iu Latiu, which
few who do not know his early history
take the pains to trauslate and inter
pret :
By one virtue some have covered amu Ititude
'ofsins ;
By the practice of many v irtues did this man
patiently strive to cover ona sin
of hU youth.
To this place every Sabbath for yeirs
a white-haired man came with a Wreath
of pure white flowers, which he placed
tenderly upon the smooth green sod in
summer, and in winter upon the whiter
snow. Sometimes he camealone; some
times he was accompanied by a lady
with gray hair, and often by a fine look
ing man with a beautiJul lady on his
arm.
But oftener a little boy was with
him, and then it was he who carried
the white flowers. The child's name
was Walter Emmons Halloway.
One duy Walter asked his grandfath
er to read the Latin inscription to him,
but his grandfather replied :
'Not yet, my boy—not yet; you are
not old enough.'
'When shall I be old enough, grand
father V
' 'When it is time for you to take any
position ot trust, ray child* '—Christian
Union.
A RARE DOGh
How He Ran Up a Tree After the
"Boas of All the Goons."
[Philadelphia Call.)
It is very rare that a raccoon falls
a victim to the hunter after cold
weather ha 3 set in, tor it is a hiber
nating animal, and stow 9 itself away
at the approach of winter. The aver
age weight of a coon is twenty
pounds, and the hunter who captures
one in the height of the most favora
ble coon feeding season which weighs
more is looked upon as having accom
plished a notable feat. James San
dys, of Hunter's Range, during the
fall killed thirty-nine coons, and re
cently surprised the community by
fetching in the 'boss of all coons,' a
mammoth fellow that weighed thirty
five pounds, the largest by eight
pounds ever captured in this vicinity.
Sandys hunts with an unusually ac
tive and intelligent dog. On Saturday
he was out after pheasants, when the
coon sprang out of a stone wall and
gave the dog as lively a chase, with
the thermometer at zero, as any coon
ever did in September. After a run
of a mile the coon ran up a large tree,
the trunk of which leaned at an angle
of about forty-five degrees. When
Sandys reached the spot he found thst
the dog had not only treed the coon,
but had also treed himself, for he had
run up the leaning trunk of the tree
and reached the very top, where the
coon had crept out on the extremity
of a branch beyond the reach of the
dog. Sandys brought the coon to
the ground with a charge from his
gun, but had greater difficulty in re
covering his dog. The animal could
not descend the tree trunk, and the
hunter had to 'shin' up and bring him
down. The dog was sixty feet in the
air, and the lowest branch of the tree
was twenty feet from the ground.
When Sandys got down to that
branch, with the dog's neck grasped
in one hand, he found that he
couldn't descend any farther without
using both hands. But the dog set
tled the matter by squirming loose
and dropping to the ground on his
feet.
NMWBPAPBB LAWS
if subscribers order the discontiuiutiou of
nttHi>np"r. the puolishers may continue to
send ihnn until all arrearages are paid.
Jf ftubftcrllMTS refuse or neglect to take (heir
newspaper* fronit lie office to which th-y reeii4
they are llekl responsible until they luvc-cttled
lln* 14U* and ordered then; •({"Continued.
If subscriber* move toother placid without In
tnruubg the pulrtWcr. ao.i tit newspapers are
rentlo tlv former pine He> .*!•*• iwpouUbte,
.■.!*" ■
▲DVBKTUUNO BATIM
1 Wk. I nto. 1 n tiiufl. tit mm. Ifm - •
1 square $2 J #4IW | 9 SUP SOOO 98 00
Ucolumu 400 001 10 00 15 00 1*99
2 " 700 10 00 15 00 5000 4000
r '• 10 00 1500f 2500 4500 7509
One Inch makes a square. Administrators
and Executors' Notices 92.50. Transient ad vet 9
tlsements and locals 10 cents tier line for first
Insertion and 5 cents per line for each addition
al insertion'
NO. 7-
a i ■ w liiT ■ ■ ■■
A FIVE-DAY MAP.
Young Mr. Banks Appears to Hart
Needed a Long Sleep.
[N. V. Times.]
Alva Banks, a clerk in the grocery of
George Washburn & Co., in Pleasant
ville, Westchester County, X. Y., is
twenty-two years old. gowd looking and
popular. On last Thursday morning,
while at work in the stow be began to
get drowsy. He kept walking about
to keep awake, fie had kad a good
sleep on the mgnt before. At noon he
went home to dinner, but he fell asleep
while he was eatlug. lie awoke and
finished his dinner, but after dinner he
thought lie would lie down and take a
nap. On reaching hl room he felt so
sleepy that he undressed himself and
went to bed. He went directly to sleep
and kept on sleeping. On Saturday
morning he was sleeping as peacefully
as a child. He had not moyed a mus
cle after he went to bed. His brother
punched him and tickled him, pulled
him oat of bed and threw him back in
to It. ile showed no signs of waking.
Dr. Dell art was called in on Satur
day forenoon. A pin stuck into Banks'
leg had no effect upon him at first, but
when the doctor pushed the pin in near
ly to the head the leg drew up, but
Banks slumbered on. Spannish fly
blisters—a kind of slow torture—were
spread over the whole length of bis spi
nal column and on the back of his neck.
The doctor also gave him some cathar
tic treatment. Bank's still slept.
On Sunday morning members of the
family, by vigorous treatment, arous
ed him. He rolled over, yawned and
went to sleep again. They kept slap
ping him, and floally he sat up, rubbed
his eyes and said he was tired. He
was pul'ed out, and he walked into an
other room, where be sat down ia a
chair and went off to sleep again: He
swallowed mechanically some food
which was forced into his mouth, and
he drauk a little water. Oa Sunday
afternoon be was awakened more easi
ly. It was not until Tuesday morning
that he woke for good. He had no in
clination to sleep farther, and seemed
to be as bright and as strong as ever.
His long sleep had been a quiet one.
He had not even dreamed when the
blisters were gnawing at his neck and
back. On Wednesday night he was
about the store in bis usual condition,
except that bis back was so sore that be
couldn't bend it.
Banks had had a long sleep twice be
fore. The first time was about ten
years ago, when mumps developed into
inflammation of the covering of the
brain. After a day of delirium he
went to bed and slept soundly and un
interruptedly for six days in spite of a
council of doctors. Three years ago he
had another sleep of three days. It *
came on like the one last week. It is
said they are due in part to over-exer
tion. Banks is an energetic young •
man, and he has a great deal of respon
sibility in the store, which jost now is
busy filling the orders of men at work
on the new aqueduct.
The Indian Question.
A tall and commanding-looking In
dian from the Canada side, having a
big back load of door-mats on bis back,
was tramping up Randolph street yes
terday when a man in a saloon beckon
ed bim in. The red man's face lighted
up with a 1 ten-cent apiece' smile of sat
isfaction as he walked in. There were
three men present, and they seemed to
be in a hilarious state.
'See here old copper-face,' said one,
as he shut and locked the door. 'l'm
down on Injuns, first, last and all the
time. They shot an uncle of mine, and
I've sworn revenge. Maybe you are
ready to take the ail firedest licking a
redskin ever got!'
'Hu 1' replied the Indian, as be look
ed from one to the other.
'And tne vermints scalped and roast
ed my grandmother 1' put in the second
white man. 'I didn't care particularly
about the old lady, but it's the princi
ple of the thing I look at. I've got to
have Injun blood 1'
'Hu 1' said the Indian, as he seemed
to catch on.
'And I,' put in the third man, 'am
down on Injuns in a general way. Af
ter these other two fellers have got
through with you I propose to walk on
the mangled remains. Let the perfor
mance now begin I'
It begun. People who looked in at
the windows could see nothing. Peo
ple who got a look through the open
door saw hats, door mats, saw dust
and chairs hovering in the air, but not
for long. In about three minutes the
red man stalked forth, somewhat flus
trated and a little bit worn away, but
he had not lost a drop of blood nor a
door mat.
Inside the saloon all was peaceful and
serene. The man whose uncle was
shot was lying under the table ,* the one
whose grandmother was shot seemed
trying awful hard to remember how the
affair began, and the one who went in
on general principles was looking out
of two black eyes at a ruined pope.
•Hu?'called the Indian as be wae
ready to move on.
But no one hewed.— Detroit Fret
Press.