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MAPLETON DEPOT, PA., WEDNESDAY, APRIL 23, 1890.
NO, 3.
BUSINESS   CARDS.
ft
I     J*   G. SPANGLEB, M. D.,
j   —PHYSICIAN & SUBGMON,--
^-^Office on Main Street, near Juniata
HouSei	
i    W. SWOPE,
^JUSTICE OF THE PEACE.—
Al! business entrusted with him will receive
.proper attention.   Collections made and im-
' mediate returns given. Legal writing promptly executed.
*_**01Bce on Main street.
J   B. SIMPSON,
Huntingdon, Pa.
S.FIBE and life insurance,
IN SOLID BELIABLE COMPANIES.
a-H6T"Call at office, or send for circulars.
""•wr   H. & J. S. WOODS,
ATTOBiraYS-AT-LAW,
He. S37 Penn Street.   Opposite First National
Bank.
Huntingdon. Pa.
T  P. WIIaSON,
—DEALER  IN—
■aNTHBAOITE, BITUMINOUS, _
CANNEL COAL, & OONNELLS-
VILLE CEUSHED COKE.
_    JHB~ All orders promptly filled at the lowest
pr icea possi ble.
ft  P. STUBBS,
—CARPET WEAVER.—
and Healer in all lands of Carpet Chain and
Materials.
Prompt attention to business and satlsfac-
"""ii-iti guaranteed.   Charges reasonable.
_. M. Green.   H. E. Green.   W. t). .. Green.
IG. M. Green & Sons,
DEAJaBItS Ut
All Kinds of Lumber,
JPat*3     "  and Manufacturers of
Flooring*, floors, Sash,
Frames, Lath,
Shingles, &c, &c.
Bill Stuff Cut to Order.
f_fr._ll Mils ProroptiyFillaM.,
ADDRESS,
G. M. GREEN & SONS,
CASSVILLE. PENN'A.
t
j_P_,
„-. ANTHRACITE
«3C0AL1I>*>
■^5*5^"
Twill fill orders for Anthracite Goal, delivered off the
■oar, until a change of price at the
mines, at the following prices:
JVllI, (Net Tons) $4 40
Stove,        "     " 94.40
IV©. 4,         «     " 9tg.es
Leave yonr orders at the office.
Main Street Near Depot.
.;   II. L. BEL    :
New Stage Route
 BETWEEN	
Mapleton & Cassville.
Trj^eekly—Monday, Wednesday,
and Friday. Leave Cassville, on each
of the above named days, at 7.80
o'clock, a. m., arriving at Mapleton
at 11 o'clock, a. ni. Returning, leave
Mapleton at any time to suit convenience of pitasengers. Fare, 50 cents.
•Merchandise carried at reasonable
ifaa. W. A. HIGHT.
, Cassville. Pa,, July 3,1889.-tf.
8hIbscribFfori>
«<ithe item.
I^
Diana's True laore.
I often told Adam that onr home
on tbe Bald mountain was exactly
like living on a solitary island ont
at sea. We were all surrounded
"with floating wreathes of fog.
which looked for all the world like
wbite capped waves.
For weeks at a time nobody
came near ns, bnt I did not mind.
The doctors had told Adam that
the restoration of his health depended on his living for a few
years at tb's high altitude, and
what sort of a sister should I have
been to let him stf«y alone in the
little brown cabin, where the smoke
from the charcoal pits ascended
night and day, as if the place were
an extinct volcano, and never had
left off belching fire and smoke f
We took turns, Adam and I,
like a vigilance committee. I
worked all day in the little stonewalled garden, trying to make the
rose-bushes and the holly-hocks
believe they were down in some
sheltered valley, and singing about
my little odds and ends of house
work; and when the sunset died
away on Bald crag, and the whip-
poor-wills began to sing below us,
Adam, who had slept all day, sallied out to the charcoal pits to
keep his lonely vigil—for we were
poor people, and had to earn onr
living as best we conld.
And all went very smooth nntil
old Uncle Pomp, the colored mau,
suddenly announced his intention
of abandoning the charcoal business.
"I's gettin' old," said Uncle
Pomp, "an' I ain't neider a bald
eagle nor yet a lizard to lib atop
o- de mountain no longer. It's too
desprit lonesome fur ole Pomp!"
•'But think what it is for us,"
reasoned Adam.
"You'8 young folks," obstinately uttered Unele Pomp. "T'ings
is altogedder different wid yons."
So we were left alone,which made
matters pretty hard for Adam.
Nobody cared to come np Bald
mountain if they could possiby
make a livelihood anywhere else.
But one evening just as I was
getting ready to take a chicken
sandwich and a pail ot tea to tbe
charcoal pit for Adam's supper, a
tall, red-shirted man came swing,
ing up the stony path toward our
gate.
--Heard yon wanted help np this
way," said he, taking off bis cap
and inclining his head not ungracefully.
My heart leaped within me.
"Oh," cried I, "we do!"
-•What sort of work is it ?" be
said, looking curiously around
him. --There don't seem to be
much chance for farming np here,
and I haven't seen any mill machinery nor shafts for ore."
"Tending the charcoal pit," I
explaiued. "Sit down and rest a
little, and I will show you where
my brother is. Will yon have a
drink of tea and a sandwich 1"
He drank eagerly; be ate as if
he bad not tasted food for a week.
I watched him the while. He was
dark, strong-featured, sinister-
looking, with a close-shaven face,
yet I felt no aversion to bim.
"Now," he said, at last, "I am
ready."
He tended the fires that night
while Adam slept.
"Can you board him, Di *?" said
Adam.
"Why not? He'd be a much
pleasanter   boarder   than   Uncle
Pomp, I'm sure," said I, laughing.
"See those beautiful red lilies he
has transplanted so carefully Into
my garden that they haven't
dropped a leaf! See the funny
little turtle he brought from Black
Brook for my acquariuro ! Oh, by
the way, no one has told me his
name."
"It is rather an unusual one—
John Smith," Adam answered.
"What brought him on top of
Bald mountain ?"
"He was out of work, and heard
that I needed a hand up here. He
is very bright and intelligent and
has traveled a good deal.. I rather like the fellow."
John Smith remained a month
with ns. He did a great deal
more than bis share of tbe work.
"The squire isn't over strong,"
he said, * nodding toward Adam,
"and he ought to be favored. He
shall be as long as I am here."
It was in the spring of the year,
and John Smith helped me with
my little flower garden. He
brought home rare birds' eggs for
my collection; he evinced a knowledge of plants that quite surprised
ine ou one ocoasion, when we unexpectedly .came across a rare
orchid in the woods.
"I should think you would be a
good gardener, John," said I.
"I was a gardener once. I had
charge Of a house full of Jamaica
ferns, and looked after a forcing
house for early peaches tbat
brought one dollar apiece in tbe
market."
"Why did yon leave yotar placet"
"Ob, for a variety of reasons.
Look here, Diana, you've set this
lily too far in the shade. Bring it
forward a little."
I colored a little. I felt that
perhaps I had asked an impertinent question. But, after all, he
did not seem offended, because he
worked along after dusk making
the border of wild violets for my
flower bed, so that the newly transplanted roots should get the benefit of tbe Coming shower that muttered along the west.
It was the very next day that
Balph Maddoz came up Bald
mountain and asked me to marry
him.
"Of course you said -.yes!"'
cried Adam, when he questioned
me abont it afterward.
"Of course I said nol"
"Why, I thought you liked
Balph Maddox!" said he.
'-One can't marry every man
one likes," said I, pettishly.
"But we are poor, little sister,
and the Maddoxes have the liuest
house in tbe village—and it is a
desolate sort of life for you to live
up here on Bald mountain."
"I never was so happy in my life
as I am on Bald mountain, now 1"
cried I.
Adam whistled,
"There is no accounting for
tastes," observed he. Wsp
I sung merrily over my work as
I got tea that evening—tbe simple tea, at which Adam was my
first guest, John Smith my last.
For it was Adam's night at the
charcoal pits. The fragrance of
the tea, the appetizing odor of the
wild strawberry short-cake, tbe
waffles tbat I myself had" baked—
how plainly I remember it all! I
was clearing off the table; John
sat on the door-step reading the
weekly paper.
"What are you reading!" I
asked, as I stopped to give the cat-
tier saucer of milk.
He laughed.
"It teems the Baldville villagers
have had a dreadful panic," said
he. "There's a rumor thet Mad
Mortimer is somewhere in biding
in their midst.   Think of that!"
"Who is Mad Mortimer t" I
asked.
"Haven't you beard of him T A
famous safe cracker and forger-
one of those genteel highwaymen
yon read abont—"
"I don't read about them."
"Well, that otber folks read
about—who make polite speeches
to the ladies while they pocket
their silver spoons and cameo eardrops. Bah ! the hnmbng there is
in this world!   1 say Di I"
"Well!»
"If the fellow really wanted to
hide himself, where could he do it
better tban in just such a place as
this?" said Smith. "Who ever
comes here ?"
"Well, I hope he won't," said I.
"You're a plucky girl, Di. I
don't believe you'd be afraid even
of Mad Mortimer I"
"Yes, I should," I persisted.
"Remember that the devil isn't
always as black as he's painted."
"John don't talk that way I"
"Di, put down that dish towel 1
Oome here!" "^jM.
"Why 1"
"I've got something to tell you.
I've been a lying scoundrel all
these weeks. I am the runaway
scamp that men scotch as they
wonld a snake! I tell you tbis because the chase is getting too hot
in my vicinity.   I must go away."
I looked at him in surprise. Was
I dreaming ?
"I'm not such a villain as folks
would believe," he went on. "If I
could explain all, you wonld understand that I've been more
sinned against than sinning, Di,
But there's no use in talking about
that. Good-bye, my girl! Tell
Adam how it was. Tell him to
keep my secret." w,\
"John, you are not going to leave
us!"
"Would yon have me to stay to
be hunted down as the ferrets hunt
a rat?"
I burst into tears.
In a moment be bad me clasped
in his arms. .
"Di 1 you don't mean to say that
you care whether I live or dief
Di, was it because of this tbat you
said '"No' to Balph Maddox ?"
My brimming eyes must have
betrayed the secret that my lips
refused to frame, for he -drew one
short quiok breath, his face
glowed.
"My girl," said he, "this is like
a new life to me. I'll make myself worthy to claim you yet—see
if I do nott One kiss—do, my
brave girl!   And now, good-bye I
So he left me.
This happened years ago. The
next spring a new mill proprietor
bought tbe, Allaire property and
settled down at Baldville.
He was dark, with a heavy black
beard, softer tban any silk, covering his face. I am not sure I
should have known him myself
had it not been for a certain
bright look—a smile—a trick of
utterance.
His father came with him to inspect the purchase—a fine, gray-
haired gentleman—-one Dr. Bur-
goyne, from New York.
"We are going to pnt, up some
conservatories for yoa, my dear,"
said be. "John tells me you like
flowers. John is a great amateur
gardener in his way also. I feel
a deal safer to have him here, now .
that he has had the good fortune
to win you for his wife. He bas
been wild in his day—a little wild
—but be always loved his old father, and he has had the sense to
choose a wife like you. He'll do
well now, I don't doubt."
And John came np and placed a
bine orchid in my hand.
"Your favorite color, Di," said
he.
So we were married, and, like
the people in children's story
books, "lived  bappy ever after."
Tbe only reference to my husband's past history that I ever
heard, outside of onr home, was on
oue summer evening when I chanced to meet two of the mill bands
gathering blackberries on the
rocky side of Bald mountain, as
our pony carriage wound along the
steep road—the pony carriage tbat
John always allowed me to drive
for myself.
"There's a queer story," said
one to the other, "tbat tbe famous
cracksman, Mad Mortimer, once
hid a month in this very cave, behind these wild clematis trails,
that time the New York detectives
Were bunting him for tbe Bigley
bank case. I wasn't living there
then, But I often heard of it."
"So have I," said the otber.
"But I didn't know that was the
place. Plucky follow, wasn't he?
By the way, how did it all end ?
Tbey treed him at last, didn't
they ?"
"Not they. Game pretty near it,
up in Maine, bnt be gave 'em tbe
slip, once tor all."
"Give them tbe slip?   How?"
"Didn'tyou ever bear? Bode
off a precipice, forty feet bigh, with
his loaded revolver in his hand,
just as tbey were chuckling to
•think of the reward tbey were going to get. Body never was recovered. And that was the end
of Mad Mortimer. He died as he •
had lived—clear grit to the end."
"Mamma, do stop Fox a minute I" cried my little boy, breathlessly. "Let me look at the cave
where the robber chief hid from
his enemies. Only one minute,
mamma I"
Presently he came back, panting.
"Such a jolly deep cave," said
be. "But I shouldn't think a man
conld hide there a month, should
you ?"
"No," I answered, absently, "I
should not think he conld."
■ '    *» » an    ..
Wtaa* 'We're all Blow In' About.
"This fuss about tbe grip is all
unnecessary," said tbe Mason.
"I've had it for years and nobody
ever beard me complain."
"i don't mind it, either," chimed
in the wrestler. "Were it not for
the grip I'd have to give up business."
"And wouldn't I look well meandering abont the country without
it ?" added the drummer.
"I'm not sneezing at it"—this
from the cold in tbe head—"see
the prominence it has given me."
"That's all very well," expostu
lated the Market street cable, "but
this continual grip is wearing me
out."
■"Yes, and just think of the way
it ia mussing me np," concluded
tbe handkerchief.
m