SULLIVAN REPUBLICAN, W. M. CHEIi'EY, Publisher. VOL. VII. LIFE IS ALL RIGHjr. Tho summer winds is round- the bloomin' locus' --trees, And the clover in it he a. big dayfor tho bees, And they been la-swiggm' honey,, above board and- on>the sly. Till they stutterjiiiitheir 1 uizzin'fandt stagger j , as the fly. They'e been aheap\of rain, but thejsun'siout. to-day. And the clouds-of tlieftwetospell is . all clear <1 away. And the woods is all -W ho greener, and«the grass is-greener IstSll; It may rain again - twmorry,but Iwdon't think it will. Some sav the crcps is nlined,-andttho corn's drownded out, And propha-sy theivheat*will lie a failure,, without doubt; But tho kind Providence that,.has never failed us yet, Will boon hand oue't ♦ more - atSth o. 'leventh hour, I hot! Does tho medder-larlt«complain,ias hoiswims high and dry, Through the waves of thotwind and t the blue. of tho sky? Does the quail set up and-whistlednai disap-. pinted way, Er hang his head in silence and rsorrow all the day? Is the chipmuck's health a failure? Does he walk, ot does he run? Don't the buzzards ooze around rup tharc, jus* like they've alius done? Is there anything the matter with tho roos ter's lungs or voice? Ort a mortal be complaining when dumb ani mals rejoice? Then let us, one and all, be contented with our lot; The Juno is here this morning and the sun is> shining hot. Oh, let us fill our hearts with the gfory ol tho day, And banish ov'rji doubt and caxe and sorrow far away I Whatever be our station, with Providence for guide, Such tine circumstances ort to make us satis fied; ' For the world is- full of roses, and the roses full of dew, And the dew is full of heavenly love that drips for me and you. —James Witcomb Riley. GRANDFATHER'S CLOCK BY CORNELIA JiEPOS. I was coming up the street to-day, hurrying home to dinner, when a brass band struck up "My Orandtatlier's Clock." I -was in haste, but I stopped to hear it, not because I particularly ad mire the air, but because there came be fore my mental vision a most distinct memory of a childish adventure of my own, connected with my grandfather's clock. In recalling it, lam well aware that much of the story must have been told me by older people, but my own share will never leave my memory. I was six years old when my father died, and my grandfather offered a home to my widowed mother and myself. I know now that poverty alone would not have driven my mother to accept this offer, but she knew that she had an in curable internal disease that might spare her life for years, but would make it diffi cult for her to earn a living. She could take charge of my grandfather's house keeping, but was often compelled to re main for several days together in her own room. To sny that my grandfather was an ill- | tempered tyrant gives but a faint idea of his utterly unreasonable demands and love of power. Sometimes he would not speak to any member of the whole house hold for a week; he would refuse to come to the table when meals were served, and give way to furious rage when, two hours later, the food was set before him utterly ruined by delay. Only the ex treme gentleness of my mother's disposi tion made her life endurable, and she was happy only when alone with me, direct ing me to sew and knit, and allowing me to help her when she was able to make delicacies for the table. Our sitting-room was on the first floor, and was a combination of study, library, sewing-room, and school-room, for in the cold weather it was the only place in the house, excepting the kitchen, where we were allowed to have a fire. The dining room between sitting-room and kitchen shared the warmth of each. In one corner of this sitting-room, where every article was of the fashion of a century before, was the clock that governed the household movements. It was ten feet high, and four wide, with a mahogany case and two partitions as the sides where the weights hung. The pendulum swung Dy itself in the central division, and Above was the big white face with the dial. There was no mechanism about it, excepting the clock-work to record the time and strike the hour, but it was a reliable time-keeper and the especial ob ject of pride to my grandfather. I think LAPORTE, PA., FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 1889. my childish awe of it was so great that 1 should have expected to be hanged or otherwise put to death-if I touched'it. Every Saturday night my mother held the candle while my grandfather wound it up, and I stood and watched the two .heavy weights slowly rise from the floor to the top, -making "the ascent in a few momentsthat it would take them -a wliolo week to re-travel. My grandfather al ways spoke of it as a precious Jegacy that •would one day be mine, thereby filling me with horror, as if he were going to to leave me a skull or a skeleton. I was a timid child, and my greatest terror was that clock. The whirr of its-wheels be fore striking the slow, loud strokes, the solemn tick, all inspired me with a fright as great as it was entirely unreasonable. Our household' jonsisted of two women. 'servants and one ian besides4he family, and. our days were passed in a dreary mo notony. My gram. v ather was proprietor of a large calico 1 story that was man .aged entirely by at usted clerk, except ing the payment of the hands. Every "Friday he went to Stockton, the nearest town, to draw from .l bank the money for this purpose. And every Saturday after noon he drove to the factory and paid the .wages for the week. It was a custom of such long standing that no one associated any idea of danger with it, and no sick ness or weather had ever, to my knowl edge, .prevented the weekly journeys. I must explain here my own state o£ mind when I had been three years with my grandfather. I feared him with the most intense fear, having felt the weight of his heavy hand for every trifling of fence that came to his knowledge. I hated him as only a child can hate, hav ing no active sense of the duty of sup - pressing that emotion. I hated him for always speaking unkindly to my mother,. ,for his mean, saving spirit that kept us all half clothed and half-starved, when I knew he was a rich man. I hated him ►for denying me every childish pleasure, and trying to make my mother bring me up by his own iron rules. And with this hatred was the knowledge that"when he died I would have all his money, lie had a superstitious horror of making/his will, believing that it would be followed by his death, and I was his only heir-at-law. He made no secret of this himself, but delighted to taunt mc with his robust health and my sickly weakness, and tell me I would never live to spend his money, much as I might desire it. He had been particularly savage on that point one Friday evening in December, when he had returned from Stockton to find me lying on a sofa with ucrvous headache. He shook the tin box in which he had his money in my face, and told me that I would never spend it, as his life was worth ten of mine. "Lying there with your pasty, white face!" he growled, ''and eyes like goose berries. A nice substitute you are for my son! You are not worth your funeral expenses!" Something had made him more ill tempered than usual even, and he kept up a running fire all the cveniug of try ing speeches, scolding my mother for waste and extravagance, threatening to cut down the meagre housekeeping "al lowance still lower; swearing at me for a wretched, sickly mite, not worth iny salt. It was a miserable three hours, and at ten o'clock, when he went to bed, mother and I cuddled into each other's arms and had a good cry. It was a bitter cold night, and I was curled up in a nest of shawls in a warm room, and gave a little shudder at the prospect of the icy-cold chamber and sheets above us. Mother noticed it. "Suppose you stay here," she said. "I will come down in the morning be fore your grandfather is awake and call you; and you are so comfortable you will soon fall asleep." Stay there! Stay alone, with that hor rible clock in the room, all night! I, who had never slept alone in all my life! And yet, it was so cold up stairs, and my nest so deliriously comfortable. The .physical sense conquered, and I saw my mother depart with the candle, for we dared not have a light left burning. I tried to sleep in vaiu. The clock ticked as if every stroke was made with a ham mer on my brain; the darkness was in tense, and suddenly I heard stealthy steps in the hall. The climax was too much for my strained nerves, and I sprang to the door of the dining room, forgetting that it was always locked at night, and the key in my grandfather's room. No chance of a stolen crust, in that house. A hand on the hall door drove ine nearly frantic, and with the instinct of concealment only. I opened the clock case and curled down the door, holding the pendulum fast in my shaking hands. The door opened, and the steps came into the room. Darkness all around us, and my terror of burglars almost an insanity, my situation may be imagined. "He's- not asleep yet," a voice said, and I knew the speaker was. our man-servant, Robert. He always sits up o' -Friday night to count the - money and sort it sout." "Sure he's got itr?" said a strange .--voice. "Sure? Of-course yl'm .sure. Don't I drive him over every Friday of his blessed life to-dfaw it out o' bank?" "We can get it now, then. If we knock him on the head, there's only a lot o' .women in the house." "No," said Robert. "We'll get tho money, but I'm. not hankerin' for a rope round my throat vet. We'll wait awhile." "Let's go outside and-see if tho light is-burning in his room yet." Creeping.softly, slowly thoy crossed the hall to the-kitchen, and I lay almost un conscious, too much terrified to move. It was some minutes Inter when a light came across the room, striking the glass of the clockface, and I heard my grand father say: "H'm! 'I was mistaken! I thought only one of'em went to bed. That brat is coddled ?to death! Sleeping down here next!" , He pokediaboutiawhile, stirred up the shawls, on thei sofa and went off, having passed the enftire time in muttering abuse .of my mother; and myself. "Let themasteal his money!" I thought, in guilty delight. "Let them knock him-on the bead. Serves-him right!" Then in the darkness I seemed to see him with a great gaping wound in his gray hair, and the blood streaming down his face. Would I be hung, too, if the men killed him? 1 1 would have all his money! It was terriblii—was it not?—for a hesitate, but I did; and when I crept out of the clock-case and wont softly up the stairs, 1 lingered, half re solved togo to my mother'rmd let the robbers do their-worst. My timid knock was answered by a ! snarling permission to enter. Before the torrent of abuse I saw* preparing was uttered, I said: "Grandfather, Robert and another man are down stairs, waiting for you to goto sleep to steal your money and kill you!" A grim look came into his face. "That's a nice lie!" he said. "It is true! They came into the sit ting room, and I was getting warm. They did not see me, and they said they would wait till you were asleep, because Robert don't want to kill you." "Highly considerate of Robert!" "You don't believe me," I said, "but it is true! They are watching your win dow now, to come in when your light is out." "I do believe you. Will you help me 'to save my life and my money?" "Yes," I answered, afraid to refuse. "They cannot jump from these win dows, and there is only one door. I'm going for the police, to Stockton. I can slip down to the barn aud saddle Jupiter while they are at the front watching my light. Will you stand close to the door, and as they creep in, will you shut it on them, aud lock it? Wait until you hear me bark like a dog, then blew out the candle, stand close to the door, and trap them. Can I trust you?" "Yes! I will do it!" Cnlcl :is ice,mmrj r heart beating like a hammer, I saw my grandfather wrap up for his cold ride, take the cash box out of the room, and go softly down the stairs. In one hand he held a pistol. "In case I meet them," he said. But he did not. I could hear his stealthy steps cross the hall, creep through the kitchen, and, after a time that seemed hours to me, I heard the bark like a dog. I blew out the candle and pressed myself against the wall close to the door. Colder and colder I grew, my heart seemed chok ing me, my head ached frightfully, but I never stirred. After what seemed hours of time, the creeping steps came up the stairs, and two shadowy forms passed me into the room. I caught at the door, shut it, and turned the key. One shout I heard in side and then fell in a dead faint in the hall. My grandfather came at last with policemen and found me on my mother's bed, murmuring deliriously, but with the key of the door clasped tightly in my hand. I was ill for weeks, but came back, J not only to health, but to happiness. My grandfather never again spoke harshly to j ine, but would tell friends and neighbors I of his "plucky little girl, who was worth two boys." He forgave mo for stopping his clock for the first timu in his memory, and was gradually won to a sort of surly good nature to my mother, and more liberal ex penditure in housekeeping. Indeed, it was-soon remarked that I "could do any thing with the old gentleman," and I was his favorite until he breathed his last in my arms, leaving me his fortune, includ ing his clock.— New York Ledger. Two "Scoops." When the Prince of Wales visited America, the New York Herald m;.n got a scoop on all his esteemed contempora ries by holding a wire against all comers. This was at Niagara Falls, and there was but one wire at-that time to New York. The Herald reporter started sending in his messages, and until he had finished none of the other men could send in theirs, lie telegraphed every mortal thing that he could think of, described all the suits the Prince of Wales wore and what the Duke of Newcastle said and did, aud what, every member of the suite thought and were likely to think about, and finally he had to fall back on the only book available, a copy of the New Testa ment, most of which was telegraphed to the Herald in New York. By the time he had finished with the volume it was then too late for any of the other newspaper men to send in a special. If the men in the Herald office read all the dispatches that came in from the New Testament, the big sum of money paid for the tele graph bill would not have been alto gether wasted. In America the only trouble that corre spondents have is to get the news. Once they have that, there is no doubt about its being telegraphed. In Europe the correspondents have another difficulty to contend with, and that is, even after they have their special information, and after they hand it into the telegraph office, it is some times not pent. During the trouble some times in Spain a while ago, a news paper correspondent found that no matter what information 1.; managed to get it was never forwarded from the Spanish telegraph office. The Government of the day took care that no news that it did not wish togo abroad should be sent. This correspondent then wrote to his friend in London that when he received the next dispatch he \\as to count every fifth word and cable only every fifth word to New York. He wrote his dispatches after that on this principle. Whenever he got a good piece of news he telegraphed a long rigmarole to his friend in London, which when read as it was sent appeared to be a long talk of financial and domestic troubles which were bothering him at that inie, but when every fifth word was taken out it gave the news he wanted to send. This the Spanish people never got "onto," and so the correspondent secured many scoops for his paper.— Detroit Free Press. Parchment. The use of parchment was known at a very early period. The invention is ac credited by some historians to Eumenes 11.. King of Pergamos, who reigned 197- 159 B. C., but according to Herodotus the Indians wrote on skins before that time, and it is certain that parchment was made and used i i Egypt centuries before Kur.ier.es lived. Parchment that in color and delicacy might well compare with modern paper was manufactured in Syria and Arabia. The ancient processes of making parchment did not differ essenti ally, probably, from those now in use. For certain purposes to which parchment is applied no substitute for it has ever been found. The finer sorts are called vellum, and are prepared from the skins of calves, kids and lambs. The skin is first freed from hair, then putin a lime pit to cleanse it from fat. The pelt is then stretched on a frame where it is first scraped with a flesh knife, then care fully rubbed down with pumice stone. Lastly it is polished with finely powdered chalk or fresh slacked lime and then dried gradually, being stretched occa sionally to prevent its wrinkling. A green color is given to the parchment with a solution of crystalized verdegris, to which a little cream of tartar and nitric acid have been added, and a blue color with a solution of indigo. The heavier parchment that is used for drum-heads is made from the skins of older calves, he goats and wolves; that for battledores is from the skins of asses. The kind of vellum sometimes used in binding is made from pig skins. All of these are prepared by essentially the same process used in making vellum.— Chicago Jvter- Oceiin. Aluminum for dental purposes is said to be coming into favor. Terms— sl.2s in Advance; $1.50 after Three Months* POPULAR SCIENCE. The comet discovered by Professor Barnard in September, 1888, has lost its tail. Dr. Gyrus.Edson, of New York, de clares that tea is intoxicating and ex plains why. The great geological map of France, commenced in 1852, has just been com pleted, making .48-pages. AiSamaden, Germany, a hotbe. if they would only do as wc think they ought to do! Love is blind, and that's why lovers think lighting the'gas is unnecessary. —Boat-on Cotiric)'. Old Maid—"Don't tell such blood curdling stories; you make my teeth chatter." Old Beau—"Look out they don't fall out."— KpocK. "The brave Dame Fortune's smiles command," which brings this fact to view, that 'tis the man who has the sand who gets the sugar, too. Education without experience is of about as much use to a man as a lace pet ticoat would be to the wife of an Eskimo fisherman.— Boston, Courier. The following contradictory inscrip tion is on the door of one of our public offices: "Positively no admittance. Please close the door."— Life. Lady (who has just missed her train, to porter)—" Porter, how long will the next train be?" Pbrter—"Oh, er, six teen carriages and a van, mum."— Pick- Mc- Up. Mrs. Struckitt (who recently enter tained a Count) —"Have you ever had any foreign noblemen as gueßts?" Mrs. Manorborn (quietly)—"No; only as ser vants." Low Comedfan—"Ah, old friend, have you seen De Ranter in his new play?" Comic Villain—"No, by all things malt, I have not. Do the gods look kindly on him?" Low Comedian—"Well, he doesn't have much to do in the first or second act; it's in the third where he wins his laurels and the public heart." Comic Villain—"Ah, some happy stroke of gen ius." Low Comedian—(with touch of nature) —"Yes, he don't come on at a 11.'." —Time. A Sun Dial Formed of Flowers Probably nowhere in New England, and probably nowhere in the United States, are there more wonderful floral designs than on the grounds of the State Lunatic Hospital, in Danvers, Mass. The Italian florist and landscape gardener, Ettore Jassiuari, has completed his designs for the season, and shows over one hundred different beds, of which three large ones attract great attention. The main one is about seventy feet in circumference at the base, and the foun dation is a nuge mound, eight feet high. In each side is a grotto, with back and sides of masonry. Prom the top of each grotto a stream of water is forcibly driven and distributed in a trickling flow to a pool beneath, from which another foun tain sends a tiny stream into the air. Iu each interstice, also, are numerous plants —lobelia, century plant, palm, nirem bergia, geranium, vinea, ivy and manj other suitable varieties. On the front is a calendar, the year hemmed in by a scroll, and the day of week and mouth in an oval frame. The top of the mound is flat, and on it rests a great vase, made wholly of plants. The vase is five and one-half feet high and six and one-hall feet in diameter and contains about three carloads of loam. The vase is filled with choice tall plants, so that the whole mar velous design has quite an altitude. "Sol's Clock" are the words on anothei design at one corner of the principal driveway. A pole of growing housclcek, placed at the proper angle and toward the north star, casts a shadow on Roman numerals of St. Helena set in a horseshoe of althernnnthera, the center of which is a bed of blue lobelia. Another design is in the shape of a mound, surmounted by a handsomelj formed turret of houseleek, supporting a neat weather vane. In the bed beneath are letters of growing plants which mark the ]>oints of the compass. On the front the weather predictions are given daily. The word "weather" is permanent, and over it is placed each morning the word "fair," cloudy," or "rainy," according to the forecast in the morning papers, the boxes containing the words being porta blc, as are those used iu arranging the calendar on the main design. In thii bed the moon's phases are also given. A true-colored moon of proper shape repose! in a dark bed, and over it appears tin appropriate description: "New moon,' "first quarter," etc.—JVow York Mail a— ffrmw