The Millheim Journal,
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I|. 5L
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MILLIIKIM, PA.
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Offlc on Penn Street.
MILLIIKIM, PA.
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Practical Dentist,
Office opposite the Methodist Cliurch.
MAIM STREET, MILLHEIM PA.
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MADISONBURG, PA.
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most modern accommodations.
Shop opposite Millheim Banking House
MAIN STREET, MILLHEIM, PA.
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Millheim, Pa.
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Attorneys-at-Law,
BELLEFONTE, PA.,
Office In Wotrtlings Building.
D. H. Hastings. W. P. lteeder.
TTASTINGS &REEDER,
Attorney s-at-Law,
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Office on Allegheny Street, two dowrs east of
the office ocupied by the late Arm of Yocura &
Hastings.
J C. MEYER,
Attorney-at-Law,
BELLEFONTE PA.
At the Office of Ex-Judge Hoy.
rjnrM. c. HEINLE,
Attorney-at-Law
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Tractices in all the courts of Centre county
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J A.Beaver. J. W.Gephart.
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Attorneys-at-Law,
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Office on Alleghany Street. North of High Street
HOUSE,
ALLEGHENY ST., BELLEFONTE, PA.
C. G. McMILLEN,
PROPRIETOR.
Good Sample Room on First Floor. Free
Buss to and from all traius. Special rates to
witnesses and jurors.
QUMMINS HOUSE,
BISHOP STREET, BELLEFONTE, PA.,
EMANUEL BROWN,
PROPRIETOR
■ House newly refitted and refurnished. Ev
erything done to make guests comfortable.
Rates mode rat" trouage respectfully solici
ted 5-1 y
JTRVIN HOUSE,
(Most Central Hotel in the city.)
CORNER OF MAIN AND JAY STREETS
LOCK HAVEN, PA.
S.WOODSCALDWELL
PROPRIETOR.
Go<xi sameple rooms for commercial Travel
ers on first floor.
R A. BUMILLER, Editor.
VOL. GO.
Steerage and Cabin.
I was in the steerage. Sim was in
the cabin. Not that I wui not as much
astonishi il to see her, as, possibly, she
was to see me. 1 had no idea that she
was in the iVisi.i, though 1 know it
was settled some time befote that the
Dolours were going t Europe.
It was a glorious moonlight evening
the third night out. How well L to
nicmber it ! The fust mate was a good
It lend of mine. He had known me in
my callow days of spending at.d pleas
ure, for I had gone as cabin passenger
more than once. I was indebted to
him for the neat arm chair in which I
posed, nightly, to enjoy my cigar and
make mental aposlrophies to the moon.
Now and then I could goon the pass
enger-deck at night, through his cour
tesy; and as I was not yet seedy,though
my clothes were far from new, 1 fancy
I did no discredit to the aristocratic
loungers, who never noticed me, as, at
his leisure, I was always in company
with Alvord, the mate.
Musing, as usual, I sat on the lower
deck, my hat thrown back, my gaze in
tent on ber majesty, the moon, when I
heard a voice that sounded familiar. It
said :
'Oh, mercy !' and than a moment af
ter : 'Don't let's stay here, Lu.'
I looked up just as the beautiful,
proud face was turned, profile toward
me.
'Gracious heavens !' I said under my
breath. 'Lilly Dufour ! the banker's
daughter.'
I did not see her companion, and be
fore I could move or speak, if I bad
been so minded, both ladies had gone.
I smiled to myself, though my face
burned and my ears tingled. Only a
few months ago and 1 bad been her
partner in a german given at one of the
most aiistocratij homes in New York.
Her beauty impressed me ; the ac
quaintance ripened into love. She bad
accepted me, and I was the happiest
man in the universe. Then a great
misfortune occurred, involving me in
the disgrace of the head of the firm.
Inuocent though I was, I had to under
go many searching inquiries before the
true verdict was made public. Striu
ped of money, my good name under a
cloud, for a time, at least, I looked ror
sympathy from my lovely fiancee, and
I was astonished beyond measure at
the coolness of her reception, the al
most indifference with which she lis
tened to ray defence. And then again,
she declined to receive me, and wrote
me a cold little note in which she in
formed me, in a beautiful Italian band,
that our engagement was at an end. I
was absolutely petrified with astouish
ment. llow often she had talked of
Jove in a cottage ! How eloquently
had she declared that, tailing fortune
or failing health, and even honor, her
heart would be true to itself and me ;
her love the shield and the reward. I
could not believe it possible. I tried
to see her, but was always repulsed. I
wrote, but received no reply. I haunt
ed her walks, her drives. She never
looked at me.
Desperate and dishearted, I cared
not what became of rae. For weeks 1
moved, ate, and worked like an auto
maton. I was at my worst when a note
came from a young lawyer, formerly
my chum, and a good fellow to boot :
"DEAR llAL— There is splendid news
for you. Come down to the ollice as
soon as you can. Yours, FKKD."
What news wa3 there that mattered
anything to me V I scarcely cared to
obey the summons. That eveuitig
Fred stopped me on the street.
•Why didn't you come ?' he a3ked.
'Of course you got my note ? There's
millions in it !'
'Millions in what V I interrogated.
'Pounds, shillings and pence. I hap
pened OD an advertisement IU an Eng
lish paper yesterday. I'ye heard you
say your family name was Preston ;
that there was some coolness between
your mother and your English relations.
Now here is a certain II listed L'restou,
Esq , who has just died at the age of
seventy-two, and he leaves—well, e
nougli and plenty to the son of his sis
ter, who married a Thomas DeLong, in
America. Of course lie must be your
uncle, and they are searching for the
heir. So you see you are wanted.'
I looked at my much worn suit. For
a moment my heart beat as if it would
leap from my body. Now, if this were
true [and I knew I bad an uncle llal
sted Preston iu Devonshire—l was
named for liira,] I was the peer of any
banker's daughter in America.
'Keep quiet about this matter, will
you ?' I asked. 'Don't let it get in the
papers just yet. I have good reasons
for asking it. Above all don't talk it
among your friends. I have nothing
to do but to start at oi.ee.'
'You will let me help you ?' be said.
'Not a cent. I took an oath that, so
help me heaven, I would never borrow
again. It has nearly been my ruin
once. I have enough to take me there
and back, steerage. If on arriving
MILLHEIM, PA., THURSDAY, JUNE 17., 1886.
tin it 1 1 can establish my identity, m in
ey will becasy oa MI ;'i,ainl I shall have
incurred no obligatio i. I'll g> j• i-1 as
I am.'
la less than three days I had plenty
of proof concerning my identity—my
mntliei'a ma ri i<o cut illc te b-'ing the
most iinpirtant pip.u ; hat oagage I
my passage—steerage in the IVrsi i ;
and, deii lag to tie known to no one,
e j iyed my peculi.tr position with the
/.-st of one supeiior to oi:cumstances.
Did my heart throb I nt-*r, when on
that beautifol night I saw the l'ace ot
the giil I 1 ved V Well, >\s, for a mo
ment or two. Hut Iliad sdso learne
to despise her character too thoroughly
to give way to the sent iment. If 1 had
not quite conquered my infatuation, I
was master of myself.
She, over there, in her rose colored
reveries, speculating upon the possibil
ity of winning a duke at the lowest in
that marvelous London; I, in the steer
age, though kindiy cared for by my
sailor friend.
I smiled as I wondered what her
thoughts could be just now. I was
more than anxious to know her opinion
through some available means, and
taking advantage of uiy friend's per
mission, I haunted the upper deck
nightly.
For some time 1 was disappointed.
At last one evening she came up on
deck, a young lady following, carrying
her shawl and a pillow. They came
quite near where 1 sat, uiy face to the
sea, watching the wonderful gold-and
crirason gleams that mingled with the
ripples and wavelets left in her wake
by our good ship.
'Now, are you quite well fixed ?'
asked the young lady, who I suppose
was her companion.
'Yes, thanks. Sit down. I wish to
ask you something. Have you found
out about him yet V'
'No, indeed. llow can I talk of it ?
Nobody knows him but you and I.'
'Strange that we should meet her of
all things, and he in that horrid place !'
'Nothing strange, it he is poor,' said
the sweet, low voice of the other.
'1 hatt poveity! besides ' her
tones fell, her worda were inaudible.
'I hope you will never be sorry,' was
the answer.
'Sorry !' with a scornful laugh. 'He
has certainly lost his beauty,' she add
ed, with a bitterness in her voice that
I had never heard before, and in which
only her pride spoke. 'One can never
tell in these business troubles how far
dishonesty will lead a man. Probably
he is running away !'
I pulled my hat lower over my free,
which was oue burning llame. I long
ed to turn npon her and upraid her
with her treachery, but I controlled
myself.
'Never !' said the other,with empha
sis 'How can you speak of such a
thing ! I believe him to be the soul of
honor-a thorough gentleman ! lie
looks it.'
Who could this girl bo ? I tried to
steal a glanco at her, but could see on
ly the outlines of a very graceful figure.
I remembered then that Lily had once
or twice spoken of a cousin in such a
way as led me to think her a depend
ent upon her bounty. This must be
she. And how grateful I was for her
sweet, heartfelt defense of me! 1 won
dered if I should see her agaiu.
Night after night I waited patiently
in the moonlight, until at last I gave
up looking for her. She did come one
night, however, with an elderly gentle
man whom I did not know. I was in
my old place io the steerage. Some of
the other passengers were around,
lounging about, leaning over the rails,
but I had chosen my seat where I could
see without being seen.
I saw her face. It was as I had hop
ed, a lovely, youthful face, and I could
hear every inflection of her clear, low
voice.
'Quite nice people, I suppose, go as
steerage passengers sometimes.' I heard
her say.
'Oil, yes, even gentlemen in reduced
circumstances. Indeed I once had a
rich friend—you miglitca'lhim a crank
—who went f for the fun of the thing,'
he said, to see life in a new phase. I
believed he liked it best,' and the old
gentleman laughed.
'A girl with such a face,' I said to
myself, 'must he worth winning ; by
no means as beautiful as my former di
vinity, but more lovely in every way.'
Lilly was taller,more queenly, but this
girl with the sweet voice and glorious,
starlike eyes was, in every way but the
mere matter of fortune, her cousin's
superior. Of that I felt assured, and
was quite willing her image should
haunt me.
A few weeks had passed, and I stood
before the gates of a tine old mansion,
now my own AUate—in a Devonshiie
viHi r e, and looked up the long avenue
bordered by noble oaks. All that my
uncle had died possessed of was left to
me, money and lands. I certainly did
feel the pride of possession in the first
A IMI'KII I'OH THK MOMK CIIICLK
Ilush of propiiet u.ship-I held my head
civet, I was once morn even with tho
w 'ild. Tim country about w it excep
tionally beautiful. Rose lin'gos bor
dered the village l.mes-heio and there
i tin ii'iy firm lay smiling in the sun
shine —coll ages dotteu tho hillsides
Everywhere the laud spoke of cue ami
prospriili. Tho house was well pre
served, and filled with solid though
quaint furniture. There were li it
houses, and all the ievo at ions of this
utilitauan age needed lor farming n a
large scale, on the ground*. I saw tl e
houses of my tenants. 1 was a lord of
the soil.
Once more in London, my thoughts
turned back to my own country and
some unsettled business llieie. There
was yet work to do,mistakes to correct,
enemies to mo.'t and friends to reward.
Among my acquaintances iu the me
tropolis was a young German baron,
who had married a lovely English girl,
and with whom 1 had passed many
happy hours.
'You must come here to night,' said
the young baroness, one day ; '1 expect
some Americans whom perhaps you
know—the Dufours. The young lady
is exquisitely beautiful; there are two—
cousins, I thiuk.'
'I did know Dufour, the banker of
New Yotk,' I said, quietly, though my
pulse iluttered with a new thrill of
gladness.
'Oh,yes-it must be the same family.
Y'ou will come P
'On one condition,' I sai 1.
'And what is that ?'
'That you will not speak of me till I
come. As I have another engagement,
I shall not bo here until late in the eve
ning.'
'What ! may I not even tell the story
of your good fortune ?'
'Anything, so you do not mention
my name.'
She laughed—her quick woman's wit
comprehended, and promising to be
very careful, she said her adieus.
The reader perhaps anticipates. I
was spoken of as the young man about
whose extraordinary luck they might
have beard—the American nephew of
an old Devonshire gentbraan who had
quarreled with his sister, because her
marriage bad displeased liim, but who
at the last had relented and left mill
ions to her son—but she withheld my
name. Later o.i I came. They were
at tea, ray host told me. It was a
standing tea. I flatter myself, I made
my "debut" with singular coolness—
found myself, tea-cup in hand, face to
face with Miss Dufour,to whom I bow
ed with haughty cmpre&semcnt. To see
her start, grow white and catch htr
breath—to hear her unguarded say :
'Why, Ilal !'
Well it was almost worth losing a
fortune for, that experience.
'Miss Dufour !' I said with a chilling
bow.
Pen of mine cannot describe her dis
comfiture. It was almost like terror.
For once the reigning belle, the woman
of the world, was foiled, mortified, ex
tinguished.
Rallying at last, she tried in some
sort of way to regain her lost power ;
but I was in love with tho starry eyes
and soul-lit face of her cousin Lucy
had been ever since that eventful night
when /, looking up from the lower
deck —and on one other memorable oc
casion—saw her sweet face and heard
her speak for the poverty-stricken aud
almost banished man.
* * * * * *
We took our honeymoon trip back in
tlio Persia. Since the failure of the
great banking house of Dufour Bros.,
and the death of the banker himself,
Lily lias had a home with us, for I feel
that in some sort I owe to her my
treasure of a wife.
A PUZZLING*PRO3LEM.
A Citizen of London Anxious to
Know Where He Lives.
The local divisions of London are
somewhat puzzling. A householder in
a letter to a London paper thus illus
trates them : 'Where do I live ?' he
asks. 'Can any one tell me V I can
not for reasons as follows : The deeds
of my house state at Upper Tooting.
The postal authorities say at Balham.
The taxing masters say [Clapham. The
rating people say B ittersea. The local
directory says Wimbledon and Putney.
If I pay my taxes i must go to Clap
ham. If I pay the gas I must go to
Bermondsey. If I pay the water rate
I must do so at Kingston-on-Thames.
To pay local rates I must go to Batter
sea. If I give a vote for a member of
Parliament I must vote for Clapham
division. If I look out front of the
house,Wadsworth common is two hun
dred yards in front of me, ai d Batter
sea two miles beyond that. It I look
out of tho back of the house Upper
Tooting park is only fifty yards from
me. 7i 7 walk to the end of my road I
am then in the parish of Wandsworth.
li [go to the other end of the road I
aiu in Streatham. It 1 cross over the
road /am in Battersea. It I\ get oyer
tny garden wall I can sit on a post with
a part of my body in three or four par
ishes at to same moment.'
Webster and the Bartender
Mr. Quinrv narrated the following
characteristic anecdote of Mr. Web
ster : The route between Boston and
New York by the way of New Ha
ven bad just been opened, and Mr.
Quincy was occupying a seat with
Mr. Webster when the ears stopped
at the latter city. Mr Webster was
not quite well, and,saying ha thought
it would be prudent to take some
brandy, asked Mr. Quincy to accom
pany him in search of it. They ac
cordingly entered a barroom near the
station,and the order was given. The
attendant without looking at his cus
tomer, mechanically took a decanter
from a shelf behind him and placed it
near some glasses on tho counter.
Just as Webster was about to help
himself the bartender, happening to
look up, started as if he had seen a
spirit, and cried 'Stop !' with great
vehemence. He then took the decan
ter from Webster's hand, replaced it
on the shelf from whence it came,and
disappeared beneath the counter
Rising from the depths he bore to the
surface an old-fashioned black bottle,
which he substituted for the decanter.
Webster poured a small quantity into
a glass, drank it off with great relish,
and threw down half a dollar as pay
ment. The barkeeper began to fum
ble in a drawer of silver, as if select
ing some smaller pieces for change,
whereupon Webster waived his hand
with dignity, and with authoritative
tones pronounced these words : 'My
good friend, let me offer you a piece
of advice. Whenever you give that
good brandy from under the counter
never take the trouble to make
change.' As they turned to go out,
the dealer iu liquors placed oue hand
upon the bar, threw himself over it,
and caught Mr. Quincy by the arm.
'Tell me who that man is !" lie cried,
with genuine emotion. 'lie is Daniel j
Webster,' Mr.Quincy answered. The
man paused, as if to find words ade
quate to convey the impression made
upon him, and then exclaimed, in a
fervent half whisper: 'By heaven,
sir, that man should be President of
the United States!' The sdjuration
was stronger than Mr. Quincy had
written, but it was not uttered pro
fanely ; it was sittplv the emphasis
of an overpowering conviction.
Simple Duties.
After all, our gieatest vvotk is not
that which at the time seems to be
great; and the epocli3 of our lives are
not always heralded by a signal-flag on
theturrent-outlook of our anticipations,
nor are they al ways marked by a red
letter in the calendar of the memories.
The opportunities of doing an obvious
ly great thing are true, but the oppor
Unities of doing our simple duty,
which may have infinite consequences
of good or ill, are at every moment of
our lives, wherever we find ourselves.
A single sentence of counsel or of
warning to a child, in the home-circle
or in the Sunday school, may shape his
course for all tne future, iu a line of
conduct not thought of by us at -the
moment. An approving word, or a
hearty hand shake to a weary friend,
may be just the means of stimulus and
cheer to him in his need, which shall
enable him to do a work for others o
ver which he and we shall rejoice to
gether when the looks are opened. A
personal note which is written under
the pressure of a sense of duty, or a
brief paragraph prepared at the print
er's call for another "stick" of copy,
may have larger permanent results iu
the impulse it brings to its reader—
known or unknown—than an ambitious
yoluine which cost many toilsome days
of research and of writiug. In fact,the
best thing for us to do, in the hope of
greatest good, is the one thing that can
be done now. Nothing that we do is
great in itself. God can use our least
doing for great results. —S. S. Times.
Solomon in Tennessee.
A certain justice of the peace, who
lived in Tennessee, was onco trying a
negro for stealing. Among the defend
ant's witnesses was a girl, it was
very evident that she was not telling the
truth.
The magistrate stopped her in the
midst of her testimony and said : 'Do
you know whar you'll go ef you swar to
a lie V
'Yes, sir,' she replied.
'Whar V
'i'll goter torment!'
'Torment V \ r ou'll goter jail en from
thar you'll goter the plenipotentiary,
that 's whar you'll go !'
During the rest of the trial she spoke
the trutti, the whole truth aud nothing
but the truth. For the jail had more
terrors for her than 'torment.'—De
troit Free Press.
Terms, SIOO per Year, in Advance.
SomeTruo Snake Stories.
(11. C. Dodge, In Detroit Free I'icsp.)
1 have always had a passion for limit
ing snakes. I suppose living in the
country among them is Ihe cause of it.
In my boj hood 1 loved fishing, and
an old romantic broken-down mill dain
was a favorite spot where,with my legs
Gangling over the side, I would sit for
hours watching my cmk bob up and
down on the water. One sunny spring
day, while in this posh inn, I felt some
thing hitting my bar ? legs, but my ea
gerness in looking after a nibble pre
vented my discovering for some time
that several angry snakes were making
a target of me. How quickly I jumped
up, increasing my terror by tumbling
on a big copperhead coiled up behind
me, I'll never forget, nor the fight I
then had, tearing half the dam down,
before I succeeded in exterminating the
nest of seventeen snakes that I had been
sitting on so contentedly.
Another time, while bathing in a
beautiful brook in the woods, I noticed
a large fish Hopping in the shallow wa
ter just alove me. I had a moment
before captured with my hinds a ten
inch trout that had foolishly hidden in
a crevice in the rocks, and without a
thougtht of the danger before me 1
rushed, naked of course, to grab this
second one. I got within a yard of it
before I saw that an ugly, four-foot
long black racer had it in his mouth.
The snake dropped the fish, and with
uplifted head and darting fangs went
for me, Diking a mean advantage of my
defenseless condition. As I retreated
hastily a water snake that was basking
beneath a stone in the water luckily
shot between my feet, causing me to
look down and see a small stone lying
there. Picking it up I burled it at my
rapidly advancing and dangerous ene
my with such good aim that I cut him
nea ly in two. In triumph 1 bore him
and the fishes home, but 1 never went
swimming there again without takincr
a good look for snakes first.
Once I was high in a cherry tree, and
as I drew in a fruit-l.iden branch a big
snake glided into uiy arms and brushed
my face as he dropped to the ground,
more frightened than I was. lie was
probably charming the birds when in
terrupted.
Many times I've hunted snakes on
the edges of ponds, and on one occasion
killed twenty-seven. They made a hor
rid pile and, as the tails live till sun
down, they presented a lively appear
ance.
I've found snakes in the cellar, and
once, during a terrible thunder storm,
on going upstairs,put my hand on a big
black snake coiled around the bannist
ers.
One morning I came across two
snakes of different species fighting each
other. The larger one was swallowing
the little fellow and to save its life I
l *illed the big one. Then, for fear of
accidents, I dispatched the little one.
My sister and another girl were pick
ing flowers iti the woods opposite our
cottage when they saw a snake, and the
bo'dest of the two threw a stick at it.
This was a mistake, as they soon found
out,for hoop snakes are not to be tiifled
with. Putting its tail in its mouth and
making itself in the form of a hoop it
started after tliern , while they, shriek
ing, flew for the house, barely getting
in and closing the front door as the
sickening thud of the pursuer bangt-d a
gainst the outside. When any one
doubts their story they point to the
mark the serpent made on the door,and
consider that au overwhelming proof.
I don't vouch for this .affair, for I was
away when it happened. Still it may
be true, worse yarns than that are told
of snakes and eagerly swallowed.
One day I was in the brush hunting
for woodcock when the ugliest and
nearly the biggest snake I ever saw
stood straight up on its tail and stuck
his nasty face right in mine. In my
surprise my gun. went off and the
snake's head, too. I've always felt
proud of that shot though I don't want
to try another just like it.
In the garden one morning I found
a little snaker under a board, and man
aged to get it alive in a glass jar; I
had lots of fun with it, and, in fact,
made quite a pet of the handsome little
creature. He was very audacious, and
when I would put him on the floor and
excite him by moving my foot lie would
throw himself and spit at me and fol
low me up so closely that sometimes I
had to take refuge on a chair or table.
I think he was poisonous, but he es
caped before he killed me.
My little 5-year old boy came run
ning in frightened the other day saying
a big snake had chased him. I went
out and found a venemous flat head ad
der, which I killed to his, the boy's,
immense satisfaction. One morning
on my way to the train I stepped on a
four-foot pilot snake lying in ray path.
As he seemed chilled from the night
air I carefully lifted him on a stick and
carried him till I found an old tin can
to hold him in. I took him in the car
and placed the can on the floor. While
reading my paper I hear a lady scream
behind me and, looking around, saw
half the passengers white with terror
1 standing or climbing on the seats.
NO. 24
NI9WBPAPER LAWS N
. If BiibscvilMr* order Hip ilisonßliMtiuttati o
newspapers. Hie i>ullsliers may continue to
semi i lie in until all arrearages are paid.
If subserllwrs refuse <r nonlrei to late llielr
newspapers from the nfftee In u hicli they are sent
(Hey are held mqmnsiMe until they have settled
the hills ai.tl ordered them discontinued.
If subscribers n<ove toother places without In
forming lhe pii Mi slier, ami the newspapers are
sent to the former place, t hey are re*to!iblble.
t*. ".. -LL a.. 1!' I LU.Jggg
ADVEBTISINO BATBS.
1 wk. l ino. ISmos. fimos. lvei r
1 square t2 W) *4on | $6 W> |6 dO ut
Hi " 7(10 10(11 15 00 ;toui 400H
1 " 10 00 1500 | 25 00 45 00 75 CO
One inch makes a square. Administrators
and Executors' Notices *.\so. Transient iidvei
tlsements and locals 10 cents tier line for first
Insertion and 5 cents |s*r line for each addition
al insertion
It. was the liveliest kind of a time to
secure Mr. Snake, who had crawled out
of the can and had sought shelter under
a lady's <Uess, and I had the whole car
lo myself for the rest of I ho ride.
I took the sttako alive to the store for
the benefit or those unfortunate per
sons who never s e snakes-itnlest in
their boots. As the reptile grew warm
he became very savage, and everyone
treated liirn with the greatest respect,
particulary the colored men who work
ed there. We had him in au upright
cane waste basket, and there would
have been no trouble if some "smuit
aleck" hadn't clapped the basket with
slimy snake in oyer a colored man's
bare head, ramming it down so tight
that it wouldn't come off. This was a
shabby trick, for the man was nearly
frightened to death in his frantic ef
forts to rid himself of his horrible hat.
Then they let the snake out on the
street, where he distinguished himself
to the delight of the small boys until
a policeman clublied him to death and
began looking around for its owner—to
serve likewise I guess.
The same night, on my return
through the woods, I met my little boy
picking berries and noticed a movement
of the grass close by him. I knew it
was a snake watching him, and quickly
breaking a branch I killed what must
have been the mate of the snake I had
captured in the mojning.
But last summer I had an adventure
that nearly cured me or snake-hunting.
I was crossing a stubble field when I
saw the biggest black snqke I ever
heard of—over six feet long and as
thick as your arm. Picking up a stick
I hit him, and he turned on me. I
struck at trim again before he reached
me, but he was so quick I missed. As
he wound about ray legs and began
ciimbing up on me, I was powerless to
strike, and before I could help myself
he was around my throat, tightening
his powerful folds and choking ma I.
tried to tear him off, but couldn't.
Gasping for breatb, I tried again, but
he wound around my left arm and was
fast getting the best of the fight. Then
I thought of m} knife, and after a des
perate struggle managed to get It from
my pocket and opened it. I jabbed it
into him, wounding myself in doing so,
and then feeling his coils relapse, fell
down, Cor I was so faint from terror
that I couldn't stand. But 1 brought
hira home for the boy to look at, and
have never liked big black snakes
since.
Women Who Count the Change.
'We have a cashier now who is the
shrewdest woman I ever knew. She
sits up there where the cash balls roll
in, evidently kept busy making
change. But that young woman
knows all that is going on at every
counter in this large store. She
catches shop lifters, reports irregulari
ties among clerks, and detects every
little device invented by the salesman
to beat us or our customers. She is
not a spy. The crookedness she re
ports among the clerks would affect
her department if allowed to pass.
She often calls me up and points out
some mistakes in the cash checks, say
ing, for instance : That has occur
red five times this week. Mr. M
is vefy careless.' So jon see she does
not accuse him of willful mistakes in
making out his checks, but I under
stand her and apply the proper reme
dy.
'A cashier's place is a bard one.
She sits up there, generally alone ;
the air near the ceiling of a crowded
store is not wholesome. She must
be quick to make change, and the
knowledge that every cent lost comes
out of her $lO per week naturally
tends to make her nervous. She must
watch for mutilated, punched, and
plugged coins, and for counterfeit
pieces and bad bills. The checks ac
companing the cash are invariably
witten in haste, are often illegible,and
if she does not read the figures cor
rectly she is liable to send back too
much change.
'But you ask me do women embez
zle. Never have I known a single
case ; never have I heard of one. I
can not say that of men. There are
women shoplifters, cheats, confidence
swindlers, quacks, and even gamblers*
but a woman who is made cashier in
an establishment is always one that
is known, one who has earned the po
sition by being a good saleswoman.
Women are never placed in positions
ot trust as men are. Men of bad hab
its and character often obtain trusty
places without much inquiry into
their fitness. A woman's reputation
is the very first thing an employer
looks into, and the greater the trust
he intends to confide the more scrupu
lously he inquires. It should be so
in employing men, but it is an innate
feeling that makes men easily put
confidence in men."—New York Star.