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Shop opposite Millheim Banking House MAIN STREET, MILLIIEIM, PA. L. SPRINGER, Fashionable Barber, Corner Main & North streets, 2nd Boor, Millheitn, Pa. Shaving, Ilaircutting, Shampooning, Dying, &c. done in the most satisfac tory mauner. Jno.H. Orvis. C. M. Bower. Ellis L.Orvls QRVIS, BOWER & ORVIS, Attoriieys-at-L aw, BELLEFONTE, PA., Office in Woodings Building. D.H.Hastings. W. F. lteeder. -J-JASTIXGS & REEDER, Attornejs-at-Law, BELLEFONTE, PA. Office on Allegheny Street, two doors east of the office ocupied by the late firm of Yocum & Hastings. J C. MEYER, Attorney-at-Law, BELLEFONTE PA. At the Office of Ex-Judge Iloy. C. HEINLE, Attorney-at-Uw BELLEFONTE, PA. Practices in all the courts of Centre county Special attention to Collectious. Consultations In German or English. J A.Beaver. J. W. Gepbart. ~P>EAVER & GEPHART, Attorneys-at-Law, BELLEFONTE, PA. Office on Alleghany Street. North of High Street JGROCKERHOFF HOUSE, ALLEGHENY ST., BELLEFONTE, PA. C. G. McMILLEN, PROPRIETOR. Good Sample Room on First Floor. Free Buss to and from all trains. Special rates to witnesses and jurors QUMMINS HOUSE, BISHOP STREET, BELLEFONTE, PA., EMANUEL BROWN, PROPRIETOR House newly refitted aud refurnished. Ev erything done to make guests comfortable. Katesinodera** trouage respectfully solici ted 5 -!y JRVIN HOUSE, (Most Central Hotel In the city.) CORNER OF MAIN AND JAY STREETS LOCK HAVEN, PA. S.WOODS~OALDWELL PROPRIETOR. Good sameple rooms lor commercial Travel ers on first floor. R. A. BUMILLER, Editor. VOL. 60. The Two Charity hoys. 'Daniel, I tell you the best thing we can do is to adopt some little boy, and bring him up as our own. Here we ate, you and me, in Missoury, hun dreds of miles from kith or kin,among persons as was a time ago unknown to us. We've worked and scratched and saved until we've as nice a home as the whole of Clinton holds. Now, then, Daniel, when we get old and stiff, who's there to take care of it ? Do you remember the day when we came here from Fulton V I reckon you haven't, forgot it no more than I. We drove that pair of mules you bought of Joe Smith. They were the balkiest critteis anyone ever drove. Them were the only hoises we bad then, and everything else was packed in one load. Daniel wasn't it in our lower creek them 'ere mules kept, us a whole night ?' 'No, it was in Ford's creek, about a mile from here,' answered Daniel. 'You remember, Keziab, that you kept fussing and worrying all the way, for fear we wouldd't be home before night. Just before we got to that creek 1 told you we'd be home in less than an hour. I didn't calculate then on spending the night there, though. When we was about half way across, them 'ere mules stopped, and not a peg did they move till morning.' 'Y'es, Daniel, a madder man than you couldn't be found, just then. You sorter cooled down after a while, ai.d went to sleep. Well, we started as soon as the mu'es was willing, and when we got to our log cabin,way back in the woods, I broke down and cried. This was the loneeomest, dreariest place anybody ever made a home out of. Y'ou talked kiud of cheering to me then, Daniel, and I soon took heart again. We started out hand to hand. Now at the end of a score years we can look around on well-fenced fields and a handsome house and barn, all paid for except the mortg ge you're to pay to morrow. Now, Daniel, it ain't more than just to show our good feelings to the Lord in some way, knowing that he helped us to all this. He has prom ised to reward us for anything we do to His Lambs, meaning the children that overflows our asylums. Now, Daniel Allen, don't you think you'd better bring home one or two little or phans with you to-morrow ?' 'Yes, Keziab, I think I will. Any way, I'll go down and see them. There, wife, the clock is striking nine. Time to go to bed. I'll be sure to bring you a pet or two to morrow night.' Five o ; clock the next morning foun d Daniel Allen behind a pair of splendid bays, on his way to Clintonville. The good old fatmer felt at peace with him self and all the world. His last pay ment was due to-day, and the money to pay it was securely packed in his montrous wallet. Henceforth the broad fields and comfortalle home were to be all his ,* he could raise his hand and say,— 'I owe no man a dollar.' 'During the time which elapsed ere he reached the city Mr. Allen thought over every possib'e result of his wife's proposition. llis heart longed for the sound of children's voices and laughter resounding through his home, driving away the gloom there and bringing sunshine instead. But he knew that Keziah's warm, motherly heart would be bound up in whatever child she should adopt, and that she would gratify Its every thought if possible. He finally concluded that he would take home two little boys, in order that Keziah and he might have one apiece. When his business at the bank was finished, he started for the 'Lowood' orphan home. This was a large char itable institution for boys, uuder the immediate supervision of a friend named Goodly. This gentlemau was very much pleased with the object of Daniel's visit, and immediately sum moned the boys to his presence, when the farmer picked out the two he wish ed to adopt. The necessary papers were made out, aod Daniel took his de parture wiih the little boys, hence forth to be Known as Bertie and Harry Allen. Both of them weie bright, haudsome children. Bertie was a shy, blue-eyed child of six, Harry a bold, dark laddie of ten years. The boys were so very anxious to hear about their future home that Mr. Allen had to tell many times about the barn full of hay and straw to play on, and the orchard with the creek run ning through it. They listened with delight to a description of Flora, the black colt that would shake hands with Mr. Allen. They were glad to hear of the swing in the woods beyond the d ii sy strewn meadow. But when Daniel spoke of the little woman at home who was going to be a kind, fond mother to them, they burst into tears of joy. The description exceeded anything they bad ever imagined. MILLHEIM, PA., THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 11., 1886. They nad both spent most of their previous lives behind "the high walls of the institution, and under the rigid discipline of a m ister. They knew of no other life, expected no different fu ture. It was no wonder then that the bright, pleasant home which loomed up before them so suddenly wis thought to be a dream. ' Harry,' said little Bertie, 'I can't helieve that we are going to live in such a home. I think we must have died, and that there h an angel taking us to heaven. Don't you think so Har ry ?' Mi. Allen laughed heartily at this idea. lie told Beitie that he was most there then, for the house yonder among the trees was his home. Very soon they were drawn up he fore ihe porch,where they found Ktziah impatiently waiting their arrival. She came out to meet them, kissed both little toys, and half carried them into the house. After supper was over, Mrs. Allen took Bertie on her lap, drew Harry's chair close to her own, and asked her husband to tell her about his visit to the city. Mr. Allen did so, not forget ting to mention that lie was taken for an angel for once in his life, anyway. The children's bedtime soon arrived, and Mrs. Allen took them to a cozy room above. She tucked theui careful ly under the snowy covers, and gave each a good-night kiss. When she went below again she found Dauiel nodding over the fire. 'Now, Daniel Allen, I feel as though I had something to live for. Ido think Bertie is a darling. I don't like Harry at al'. Them big black eyes look too crafty lor a child of his years.' 'That's the reason I brought two, Ktziah, so you and me could have one apiece. Y'ou can haye Bertie. Under my directions Ilarrv'll make a fine hoy, miud what I tell you. If you want Bertie the same, I'd advise you not to pet him too much,' returned her hus band. The boys were up early, and before night there were not many inches of the farm that they had not traveled. They found everything quite ai nice as Daniel had pictured it to be,and passed the day out of doors. Harry soon noticed that Bertie was Mrs. Adieu's favorite, and there arose in his passionate heart a strong dislike for his brother. He did not attempt to urive it out. He let it take root and grow until his whole soul was filled with a hitter hatred of innocent Bertie. They had not been at the fai m a year before Harry commenced to abuse the child. He was very careful in his con duct before Mr. and Mrs. Allen, conse quently they both regarded him with great pride and affection. Mrs. Allen often told Daniel that Harry would make more of a mark in the world than Bertie, who was of an easy, gen tle disposition. They did not know that he treated Beitie as he did. The child had such a fear of Harry that he dared not complain of his ill treatment to any one. To add to his troubles, Harry, who was decidedly Mr. Allen's favorite, contrived to shake the farmer's confi dence in him by representing that he was not always truthful and honest. Several times he threw his own misde meanors upon Bertie's shoulders, and the child dared not tell the truth for fear of the punishment he knew his cowardly enemy would iullict. As a natural consequence, Mr. Allen's treat ment of the poor little victim of cir cumstances was stern and hard, Keziah being his only friend. She never lost faith in her pet. For years this cruel course was con tinued, then its desired object was ac complished. Bertie was just fifteen when he made up his mind that tie would run away— that he could not live in this atmos phere of injustice another day. So one night he tied a few things in a kerchief and took a sorrowful departure from the only home he had ever known. Not unperceived, as he had supposed, however. Every movement was view ed by Harry with the utmost satisfac tion. Mrs. Allen wondeied much, when breakfast was over, and Bertie who was an early riser, did not appear. After a time, thinking that he might be ill, she went up to his room, and found that the bed had not been slept in. She looked around, but found no clew to his whereabouts. She imme diately called Daniel and Harry, and a thorough search was commenced. Their efforts were, however, in vain. Bertie had disappeared as completely as if the ground had opened and swal lowed him. Mrs. Allen was nearly heart broken at the loss of her boy. Daniel, too, missed that sad, patient face from the fireside, and did all that he could to find him. 'Keziah,' said Daniel, a few days af ter Bertie's disappearance, 'have you A PAPER FOR THE HOME CIRCLE been to my wallet lately ? Thar's fif teen dollars gone somewhar.' 'Lor' no, Daniel, I never did such a thing. When did you miss the mon ey V' 'Only this morula', but it might have been gone afore. The fust mon ey I ever had took, too.' 'Father,' said Harry, 'maybe Bertie took It. It seems as though we would have fout.d him before if he had been without money.' 'No, no, Harry," said Mrs. Allen, quickly ; 'do not hint sue!) a thing a gain. That poor dear boy'd lose a baud, sooner'n touch a cent us didn't belong to him.' 'Well,' said Daniel, after a long pause, 'the money's gone, and the more 1 think on't, the more I think he took it. No one else could have took It, wife. I don't begrudge the money to the hoy. 1 would ha g'in him more, if he wanted it ; hut if them's his principles, I'm glad he's gone.' Mrs. Allen remonstrated with her husband on the injustice of the accusa tion. In her own mind she felt sure that she knew the thief. She dared not mention it to Daniel, however, for he would hear nothing against Harry. A year wore away, and still no tid ings of Bertie reached the farm. Har ry had gained his point in driving him away, lie was now sole manager of all Mr Allen's business. Ilis word was law with Dauiel, hut not with Ke ziab. She could hardly tolerate him, feeling perfectly sure that he had then hardened the old man's heart against him. Y'ears rolled by. The hand of age commenced to stamp his indelible marks on Mr. and Mrs. Allen. Keziab could no longer attend to the house work, so a trusty girl was engaged to take charge of the kitchen. The old people felt that they could now enjoy a quiet, happy old age together after their years of toil. Such was not to be the case. Mrs. Allen was taken yery ill. Noted phy sicians were summoned from all parts, hut their skill was unavailing. One bright, s'unnv day in early autumn they laid her away forever. She who had been a fond mother to Bertie was gone. lie was iudeed an orphan now. A short time after this sad event, Mr. Allen had a desirable offer made him for put of his farm. He had long been thinking of selling, in order to dispense with hired help. He also felt that the sands of life were running out and the money thus realized would make him comfortable while he lived. He finally conclued the bargain, and received most of the money for his land at once. It WHS impossible for him to deposit the money in the bank the day he re ceived it. Although lie felt that it was very unsafe to keep so much cash in the house oyer night, he could not go to the city until the next day. The hired girl spoke of spending the night with friends, so Daniel supposed he and Ilarry would be sole inmates of the house. When bedtime came, the old man placed the package of money under his pillow and retired to rest. Some time during the night he was dimly conscious of a cloth being press ed tightly against his nostrils. lie knew no more until he felt somebody shaking him violently, and calling on him to awaken. He found standing at his bedside his housekeeper and three men, a neighbor and his two sons. 'Poor man !' said Lizzie. 'Look quickly and see if your money is where you put it. You have been robbed by your beloved son, Ilarry.' 'Don't say Ilarty took it girl ! You will kill me if you do. Call him quick ly, and we will find the robbers. May be you're mistaken. I'll look myself and see.' He raised his pillow and found nothing. Ilarry entered the room at this crisis, and asked hurriedly If the money wero gone. 'Harry,' said Daniel, 'you have stung the heart that loved you. Lizzie saw and heard all. Tell us about it, girl.' Mr. Leeds, the neighbor, was a jus tice of the p°ace. He now proceeded to arrest Ilarry, who stoutly protested bis innocence. 'I did not go over to Mr. Leeds', as I spoke of doing,' said Lizzie. 'Being very tired, I went right to bed, but not to sleep. I kept thinking of the dan ger the place was in on account of that money. Twelve o'clock found me wide awake. Soon after this I thought I heard voices in the garden. I rose and went to my window. Fortunately it was open, and just then the moon • came from under a cloud. I looked out, and not three feet from under ray window stood Ilarry Allen and a strange man. I heard Harry say, 'The coast is clear, old fellow; you wait here and I'll bring out the bag.' I stepped out into the hall and heard him enter Mr. Allen's room. In about fifteen minutes be came out and went out doors. As soon as I dared, I went out the back way and ran oyer to Mr. Leeds' and woke them up.' By this time Harry was aware that it was useless to deny his guilt. He begged Daniel to have mercy on him, and he would restore the money. 'Harry.' said Mr. Allen, who was sternly just, 'you must stand your tii al. If the judge and jury have inercy on you, all right. I have none of it.' Harry was lodged in jail, there to await his trial. A lawyer from St. Louis was engaged for him, by name, Robert Dobson. Although a young man he was said to bo the smartest lawyer in the State. The day of the trial came at last. The court room was crowded. Mr. Leeds and the girl, Lizzie, were the main witnesses. Their evidence was strong enough to couyht the prisoner. Everything was proven against Harry. Presently, his lawyer arose to make his plea. Something in that resolute face and in those firm, quiet tones made Daniel look more closely at Robert Dobson. After a long, piercing look he threw up his hands, and, with the cry of 'Bertie 1' fell fainting. As soon as he had been removed, the lawyer continued his eloquent appeal. So effectual were his words that Harry received only two years in the peniten tiary. Daniel was right. It was Bertie who pleaded Harrj's cause so warmly. He had remembered well the christian pre cept : "forgive, if you would be forgiv en." It is impossible to say how proud and happy Daniel felt when Keziah's lost boy was restored to him in the rich and noted Robert D >bso:i. The errors of the past were forgiven and forgotteu by the young man,who only remember ed that Daniel had once been kind to him. And from that time to the day of the old man's death, he was to him a faithful and devoted son. How Tweed Escaped. The account of the extravagant price paid tor human hair to Mr. Dibblee re calls to the mind of that gentleman an incident of Tweed's escape from Lud low street jail. Mr. Dibblee had had a wig of superior quality and beauty made to cover the temporary baldness of his son, whose head had just been shaved. The son failed to go for the wig at the hour agreed upon, and the father kept his place of business open later than usual, waiting for the bald delinquent. Suddenly an excited man rushed into the store, exclaiming : "Mr. Dibblee, have you a wig that will about fit me ?" "Certainly, what color do you want?" "Oh, any kind. Show me one,quick!" Mr. Dibblee took the wig waiting for his son, and handed it to his impatient customer. lie hastily tried itr on, in quired the price,paid a reckless amount, seized the wig, and went away in great baste. That night the wily Tweed disappear ed. The next day New York was all agog with amazement at his bold flight. When it was discovered that he had fled in disguise, Mr. Dibblee thought full put two and two together. lie soon after met one of the persons who had been accused of assisting in the flight, and, to yerify his suspicion, said to him : "So you succeeded in getting the old man oft ?" • Yes,* but we should not have done it if it had not oeen for your wig."—New York World. General Grant's Horses. General Grant was particularly proud and fond of his 'stud of horses. His war charger was an especial favorite. He took great delight in exhibiting his horses to his friends with whom he was intimate. Once at his stables with a friend he said : "Perhaps you would like to see the horse I rode during all the campaigns I commanded ?" The animal was ordered to be brought out. The gentleman was surprised to find the horse 110 larger than a lady's palfrey —small, slender, agile-limbed, black as a coal, intelligent, mild, an eye like a hawk, and a lick on the mane for all the world like a boy's cowlick. It was such an animal as women and children would make into a family pet. The gen tleman pronounced the animal a beanty but expressed a doubt as to its endur ance. "Endurance 1" said the general, "this animal exceeds in endurance any horse-flesh I ever saw. I have taken him out at daylight and kept in the sad dle till dark, and he came in as fresh when I dismounted as when we started in the morning. There isn't gold in America to buy him. He is an import ed horse of fine breed and was once on Jeff Davis's plantation." This was just before Davis was caught, and the yisitor said, "I presume you would ex change the horse for Jeff Davis.'' "You have said it," exclaimed Grant, "I would exchange him for his old master, but for nothing else in the world." THE value of the pig iron produced in this country last year was $73,000,- 000 a sum nearly as great as the com bined value of the gold and silver pro ducts. Terms, SI.OO per Year, in Advance. Wine with a History. Twelve Preciouo Battles That Once Came Across the Atlantic. J. A. Murray, of Butte, Montana, is the possessor of twelve bottles of wine with a histcry. The earliest known of this wine is that it was found in a subterranean vault inside a sealed stone receptacle, in a Jesuistical monastery, that was demolished dur ing a local feud among religious fana tics. It so happeued that the eye of an epicurean fell upon it and he secur ed it as the most valuable of the treas ures, and carried it into Poland ; pre sented it to the crown, for which lie was rewarded by the highest honors and titles that could be conferred up on an ordinary citizen. At the mar riage of the Princess Decherniz of Po land to the heir apparent of the crown of France, the only remaining basket of this priceless vintage was present ed to the prince for the nuptial occa sion. An unprincipled adventurer by the name of Bouforte, who had secur ed the position of second steward to the crown, stole twelve bottles of the precious nectar aud replaced these with twelve of an inferior article. These twelve bottles he brought with him to America in the year 171)0. lie communicated the nature of his special treasure to his most trusted friend, Henry Coatway. The cupidity and avarice of the latter overpowered his reason, and he killed Bouforte to se cure the wine. The deed was no sooner done than he feared the venge ance of the law, and resolved to fly to distant parts, for a time at least, until the excitement of the murder would die out. Before leaving he buried the twelve bottles with their history far down among the roots of an ancient oak. Fifty years after, on uprooting this same tree,a newly converted Mor mon found the treasure and took it with him when he migrated to Utah. When Brigham Young was made acquainted with the nature of the val uable article contained in the twelve bottles, he informed the owner that God had made him the instrument to find this treasure that he might give it to the head of the church,aud forth with took the vintage. The wine was in turn stolen from Brigham by an apostate Mormon,who brought it to Montana, and on his death -bed, at the mining camp of Pi oneer, he bequeathed to J. A. Murray this wine of such an eventful history, as a testimonial of his gratitude to that gentleman for his having loaned him SSOO atone time for the purpose of calling a hand for Julius Levy, by which he took down a pot containing $1,309. When She Spoke. She was a sweet-faced, blue-eyed young girl, with great waves of gold en hair brushed carelessly back from a noble-looking, snow-white brow. Her ruby lips-were full and sweet. In nocence itself was in her great blue eyes Fair and sweet was she in all the purity and guilelessness of her fresh young womanhood. Two young men had long been watching her with eager Her glorious beauty had enthralled them. "What a superb girl !" said one. "Never was lily fairer 1" "llow I would love to hear her speak 1" said the other. "No 'sweet bells angled' could be like the words she must utter with lips like those, and a face like that!" She spoke. A friend came down the aisle, and said carelessly— "A cold day, Miss D The full red lips parted slowly, the beautiful head turned with superb grace, a smile of seraphic sweetness illuminated the noble features ; soft and sweet was her artless answer : "Well, I should smirk to twitter. Cold ain't no name for it!'' FIFTEEN minutes a day devoted to self-improvement will be felt at the end of the year. Good thoughts and care fully gathered experience take up no room, and may be carried about as our companions everywhere, without cost or incumbrance. An economical use of time is the true mode of securing leisure; it unables us to get thro' busi ness and carry it forward, instead of being driyen by it. On the other hand, the miscalculation of time involves us in perpetual hurry, confusion, and diffi culties, and life tecomes a mere shuffle of expedients, usually followed by dis aster. NO. 44 NEWSPAPER LAWS If subscribers order the discontinuation newspapers, the nunilshers may continue scud them until ail nrrearaees are paid. If hu bsoribers refuse or neybet •<> take their newspapers from Ufe imtru to wiiteh th \ they are held responsible until tie \ the bills and ordered them discoid in ue i. If subscribers move to other places without in forming tlie publisher, and the newspapers are sentto the former place, they are responsible. ADVERTISING RATEH. 1 wk. 1 mo. 3 mos. C> niys. I yea 1 square *2 00 *4 00 *5 00 ♦6 0 *8 00 % •' 700 10 00 15 00 30 to 40 0.1 1 " 10 00 15 00 25 00 45 00 75 00 One Inch makes a square. Administrators and Executors' Notices f'2.50. Transient adver tisements and locals 10 cents iter line for first insertion and 5 cents per line for each addition al inseition Irish Landlords. Everything They Own Squeezed From the Poor Peasant. Dublin would be the most beautiful city in Europe but for two tinners —its buildings and its people. The aristoc racy, so-called, live in tumble-down villas, which, though their white walls sparkle in the sunshine, prove, when approached, to be painted shells sur rounded by gardens in ruins. The in habitants of all these villas are a set of broken-down landlords, who have been compelled to close their country houses and come to town for economy sake; widows living on the dowry paid them by their elder brothers, and mortgaged creditors, who live on the mortgages that they or their ancestors have placed on the land/ for in Ireland, with the ex ception of a few distillers and brewers, who live on the drunkenness of the people, there is no possible mode of ob taining'money save from the peasant farmer. The Socialistic axiom that capital is only a useless value, the toil of the worker being unpaid, is iu other countries mitigated and almost lost sight of iu the multiplicity of avenues througn which money must flow before it falls into the pockets of the rich, But in Ireland the direct and rude transfer of money from the horny hauds of the peasant to the delicate Angers of the landlord has a horrible smell of slavery. In Ireland the landlord does absolute ly nothing save to grab all the money that the peasant can scrape together. An Irish landlord said: "I baye always done, now do and will continue to do just as the other landlords, for it is as impossible for me as the rest of my class to