SULLIVAN REPUBLICAN.
W, M. CHENEY, Publisher.
VOL. VII.
A DROWSY DAY.
The butterflies flit here and there
About the tawny, dust-deep road,
Liko flakes of gold, in quivering glare.
Heat-shriveled vines, and leaves that
showed
Life in each leaf all breezy June.
Droops languidly along the way;
And a lone bee, with mutiled croon,
Seems moodily to say:
"It is a drowsy, drowsy day."
No silver ripple stirs the brook
Whose glassy flow slips noiselessly :
There seoms no life whore eyes may look;
The clouds are ships becalmed at sea.
The song lies hushed in panting throat
Of bird; grasshoppers tiro of play;
The cricket seldom chirps its note,
And only then to say:
"It is a drowsy, drowsy day."
So noontide lapses unto eve.
The farm-house panes flash ruby-clear;
And bats their secret places leave,
And katy-dids again we hear.
The fire-flies gem the gathering shade;
The swallows cheep, in circling play;
And wear}- flowers, in field and glade.
Seem whispering to say:
"It was a drowsy, drowsy day."
—Georr/c Cooper, in Independent.
THE NEW NEIGHBORS.
BY IIKLEX FOnnEST GRAVES.
"I hate those people," said Tinette,
■with a very emphatic nod of her curly,
yellow head.
"My dear, my dear! isn't that a
heathenish sort of speech?" reasoned her
mother.
"Well, it's the truth," declared Tin
ette. "And where's the use in disguis
ing it? A women who would drive my
darling little kitten out of the garden
with a broom! a man who don't like
dogs! and Mrs. Parry said they were go
ing to be such nice neighbors."
"You must remember, Tiny, that peo
ple don't like their flower-seeds and
young lettuce plants to be scratched out
of the ground, even by your pet kitten."
"But, mamma, Fairy wasn't scratching
—Fairy never does scratch. She was
only playing about. And you know some
people dislike cats, out of sheer deprav
ity."
"We must respect the prejudices of
our neighbors, Tinette."
"I have made up my mind, mamma,"
said Tinette, with the air of a martyr, "I
shall send Fairy to Uncle Bob. ile likes
cats. And then," with a sob rising
spasmodically up in her throat, "1 hope
Mr. Vallinger, and that ogress of a mother
of his will be satisfied."
"Nonsense!" said Mrs. Wylie.
And she went out to the butcher's cart,
which stopped daily for orders in front
of these little suburban cottages.
"Mamma can talk about sweetbreads
and veal cutlets, when poor Fairy's life
is in danger," said Tinette to herself.
"Oh, I do wonder if I shall grow as
callous as I get older!"
•lust at that moment, however, a trim
little maid servant, in a ruffled white
apron, presented herself, bearing a bunch
of radiant red and gold tulips.
"For Mrs. Wylie, please, miss," said
she. "With missus's compliments."
The tulips were so fresh and dewy and
fragrant, and the little maid looked so
smiling, that Tinette's heart melted for
the time being.
"I suppose, ' she thought, "she means
it for a sort of flag of truce. I suppose
she's ashamed of shaking the broom at
poor Fairy so spitefully. But it's too
late now; the die is cast; the carrier is to
call for Fairy at noon."
And—a sort of natural consequence of
her age and temperament—Tinette Wylie
rather enjoyed the thought of the sacri
fice she was making. She was only
seventeen, and very romantic at that.
Mrs. Wylie was fond of tulips. She
put the gold and scarlet treasure into a
vase of water and beheld them with ad
miring eyes.
"Very kind of Mrs. Vallinger, lam
sure," said she. "I wonder if she would
let me have a bulb or two, in exchange
for something that she might fancy out
of my flower beds?"
"I wouldn't ask «-y favors of those
horrid people," said Tinette.
" But that wouldn't be a favor; it
would only he an exchange. And really,
dear, this is such a pretty little attention
that 1 feel 1 must send something back.
Hun, darling, and gather me a basket of
those big strawberries, that are just be
ginning to ripen, down by the south
terrace. Put a few vine-leaves over them,
and tie the lid down with green ribbon
grass, and I'll send them over, by-and-by.
I do like to live in peace and harmrmv
with my neighbors!"
Tinette obeyed, reluctantly enough.
Down by the south terrace, however, she
found some delicious cream-colored roses
just opening, and discovered the tiny
LAPORTE, PA., FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 13, 1889.
perfection of a humruing.bird's nest, so
that, in the course of time, her mood
softened, and the strawberries were not
only culled of the largest and sweetest,
but were covered, under the basket-lid,
with half-open rosebuds.
"There may be something in the new
neighbors, after all," said she to herself.
When she had gathered the fruit and
flowers, she took a blue-and-gold edition
of Mrs. Browning's poems, and went
down into a certain woody nook that she
loved, to read and dream.
"I can't be there when dear little
Fairy is sent away," thought she, with a
quivering lip. "The darling! she is so
happy in her nest of cotton wool in the
basket. Little does she dream that she
will never see me again—or at least not
until I goto spend the day, next week,
with Uncle Rob at Eyrie Cottage?"
It was when she was trying to lose all
recollection of her sorrows in the musical
numbers of "Little Ellie and the Swan's
Nest," that Mrs. Wylie sent a neighbor's
chubby-cheeked child over to the Val
linger cottage.
"You'll find it on the dining-room
table, Bessy," she said. "Take it over
to Mrs. Vallinger with my compliments,
and if she'll hang it down the well for
half an hour, the fruit will be much
fresher and cooler for tea. And here's a
bunch of pansies for you. Bessy; and be
sure you do the errand correctly."
While Bessy was gone, the postman,
who was also general carrier,called for the
package for Eyrie Cottage. Mrs. Wylie
hastened to give him the basket.
"The little creature must be fast
asleep," said she to herself. "She's as
quiet as can be. Well, I'm glad to have
her taken away while Tinette is gone.
It will perhaps save her a pang; and
after all, a kitten is a very insignificant
thing to make trouble between neigh
bors, if only Tinette would think so."
Her olive branch was graciously re
ceived at the cottage next door.
"Strawberries, eh?" said Mr. Vall
inger. "Tell Mrs. Wylie we are much
obliged. We have heard of the exqui
site fruit she raises, and are glad to have
an opportunity of tasting some of it."
So she hung the basket down the well
with a loug, stout cord, and went to her
son's study to tell him what had hap
pened.
"The neighbors appear to be quite
friendly," said she. "I'm glad ladopted
your suggestion, Walter, and sent over
those tulips. If that crazy little yellow
haired child—"
"Gently, mother," said the young
man, smiling. "She is a very pretty
young lady!"
"Would only keep her mischievous cat
at home, we might get along nicely,"
said the old lady, without heeding the
interruption. "But I always did detest
cats! Don't you suppose, Walter, we
might poison the creature without any
one being the wiser?"
"The young lady with the golden
tresses, mother? I'm afraid a coroner's
inquest would bring the whole motter
out."
"Nonsense, Walter!—the cat, of
course! A little strychnine, now, care
fully placed between layers of fresh fish,
or just a grain or so of arsenic on a little
meat—"
"Mother, you are a second Lucrezia
Borgia," said Walter Vallinger, with a
gesture of mock horror. "I dare say the
cat won't prove as troublesome as you are
inclined to anticipate. And I prophesy
that we and the next-door neighbors shall
be great friends, after all."
When tea-time came, Mrs. Vallinger
prepared a modest feast—cold tongue,
edged around with a green fringe of
parsley; sponge-cake, daintily iced over;
and a glass pitcher of real cream, pro
cured from the people at the end of the
lane, who kept cows.
"Come, Walter," said the old lady, in
great glee. "Bring me the basket of
strawberries from the well. They have
hung there, within three feet of the water,
long enough to be deliciously cool. And
tea is quite ready now."
Walter obeyed. It was his habit to
wait on his mother, with a sort of loving,
unquestioning loyalty.
He brought the basket in, untied the
knot of pale-green ribbon that fastened
down the lid, and out. leaped a half-fro
zen kitten into the midst of the lettuce
salad, which formed the centre dish of
the banquet.
"Kill the creature!" shrieked Mrs.
Vallinger, recoiling. "This is one of
those people's practical jokes, I suppose.
I never knew anything so dreadful in all
my life."
But Walter had rescued the kitten
from his mother's avenging hands.
"It's a pretty little creature," said he.
"And it's bad luck to maltreat a present,
no, we'll keep the little shivering ball of
snow, mother, and try and teaeh it to
respect our garden-beds. But it is rather
a singular proceeding on the part of our
neighbors—now, isn't it?"
**»##***
Three days afterward there came a
knock at the door and Tinette Wylie
stood there with pink cheeks, sparkling
eyes, and hair all instinct with the gold
of the declining sun.
"Is this Mr. Vallinger?" said she.
"Miss Wylie, I believe," said Walter,
who had the kitten nestling in its cottor>-
lined basket on his study-table in full
view.
Oh, treacherous Fairy,who was already
so entirely reconciled to her new lot that
she had not even a recognizing purr for
the little mistress who had loved her so
dearly!
"lam so sorry—so ashamed!" began
Tinette. "But I never even Rnew it until
this morning. Oh, what must you have
thought ? What sort of people must you
have supposed us to be?"
"I beg your pardon!" said Walter,him
self beginning to get a little confused.
"The kitten, you know," explained
Tinette—"l feared—that is, I was quite
certain that she was going to be an an
noyance to you, so I packed her in a
basket to send to my uncle, who lives on
the other side of the mountain. And I
gathered some strawberries ou the same
day, and mamma thinks she must have
sent the wrong basket—because, when I
went to Uncle Hob's to see how dear
Fairy was getting along, there was no
Fairy there, and I couldn't understand
what he meant when he thauked mo for
the lovely strawberries and roses. So
then it flashed over me all of a sudden,
and mamma can't think how she could
have been so careless, and oh, please,"
with a pretty clasping of the hands that
had a pink dimple in every knuckle, "do
forgive us, and let us have Fairy back
again!"
"But I don't think," said Val
linger, "that I can spare her I've be
come very fond of that kitten, do you
know, Miss Wylie?"
"I thought you hated cats," said
Tinette."
"So I did," said Walter—"at least ~
didn't liko 'em. But I have changed my
platform in regard to this particular cat,
She is the dearest, gentlest, most sagac
ious little creature—"
"Oh, isn't she?" cried Tinette, with
kindling eyes. "I knew you would find
it out in time!"
"And my mother is as fond of the kit
ten as I am, strange to say," he went on.
"You will let us keep her, I am sure?"
Tinette's eyes fell; her color rose; this
was too severe a trial of her loyalty.
"Couldn't—couldn't we own her to
gether?" she murmured.
Walter Vallinger could _.ot resist this
appeal. He took the basket and placed
it in Tinette's hands.
"You have the best right.to her," said
he.
"How can I ever thank you enough?"
said she.
She was almost ready to cry, but she
laughed afterward, while he related their
amazement, when the kitten leaped into
the midst of the lettuce salad, their per
plexity and their gradual conversion to
the cat question.
And it was a full hour before she went
home to tell her mother what charming
people the next-door neighbors were!
"And I am to take Fairy over to see
them every day," said she.
"I declare," said old Mrs. Vallinger,
"I didn't think it would be possible foi
me to miss a cat so much! She was a
deal of company for me. By the way,
Walter, how very pretty that young girl
is?"
"Very," said Walter.
Mrs. Vallinger said no more, but her
thoughts traveled afar into the future.
Like all women she was a born match
maker.
"Who knows what may happen," she
said to herself.— Saturday Night.
Lynchers Spare a Praying Burglar.
There were a number of burglaries ai
Tulare City, Cal., and Tom Egan was
arrested and imprisoned, charged with
housebreaking. The next night the dooi
of the jail was opened and he was told
to come out. He did so and was con
fronted by twelve masked men, who tooV
him to a grove, put a rope around hi)
neck and told him to pray before he dice
if he wanted to. Egan fell on his knees
and prayed so ferventlv that the would-bi
lynchers relented, took him back to th<
jail and locked him in again.
LIFE IN EGYPT.
THE SAD CONDITION OF THE
TAXKIDDEN FKLiLIAHS.
A Nation of Peasants Who Dwell in
Squalid Murt Houses Their
Wretched Food and
Poor Apparel.
Out of the six and a half million people
of Egypt, fully six millions are peasants,
writes Frank G. Carpenter. They are
known as "fellahs." They are the tillers
i e t>" soil and tlicy are the people who
do the work, and make the money which
pays the immense yearly debt of Egypt.
These "fellahs" are the ancient Egyp
tians. They have been oppressed through
out the ages until they have no spirit left
in them, and they are happy if they can
get enough to keep themselves alive. You
see their mud villages everywhere, and
they slave from morning until night in
the fields. Their houses are rarely more
than ten feet high, and often not more
than eight feet square. In an Egyptian
village the houses are built close together.
There are no pavements, gas lamps nor
modern improvements of any kind. The
furniture of each house consists of a few
mats, a sheep skin, a copper kettle and
some earthenware pots. The bed of the
family is a ledge of mud built in the side
of the room. There are no windows,and
the cooking is usually done out of doors
in a little earthen pot-like stove.
The fuel is of dried cow, camel or
buffalo manure, and the food of the fam
ily is a mixture of sorghum seed, millet
and beans ground up into a flour and
baked into a sort of a big, round, flat
cake. A large part of the food of the fel
laheen consists of greens, and I watched
one eating a turnip yesterday. He began
at the tip of the root and ate the raw, in
digestible vegetable to the very end of
the green, leaving not a visage of it. I
have seen them eating clover and I am
told that they seldom have any meat. Out
of the milk of the buffalo and cow they
make a sort of n curd like, cheese, which
is extensively used. They use no knives,
forks nor spoons, and at supper they have,
in addition to their vegetables, a sauce of
onions and butter, into which they dip
pieces of bread and eat it.
These Egyptian peasants wear little or
no clothing while working in the fields,
and here in Cairo the apparel of the men
consists of a long blue gown which comes
below the knees and a brown skull cap
of wool. The women have gowns of blue
cotton, and the better class of them cover
their faces with a long veil, which is fas
tened just under the eyes so as to hide
the lower part of the features. Between
this veil and the cloth head-dress there
is a brass spool about three inches long,
on each side of which the eyes show out.
Some nf the girls are beautiful, but I
imagine that many of them look better
with their veils on than off. The Egyp
tian eye is large, black and sensuous.
The eyelashes are very long on both lids
and the edges of the eyelids are often
blackened with kohl. The eyebrows are
straight and smooth, and never bushy.
The cheek bones are high, the fore
head is receding and the nose somewhat
inclined to fatness. In the country you
find much darker women than you do in
Cairo, and I see scores of them working
in the fields without veils. These fella
heen are Mahommedans. Very few of
them attain riches and but few rise to
power. Arabi Pasha was a "fellah,"
and he was one of the few exceptions to
this rule.
It. is no wonder they remain poor.
They have been taxed for ages to such
an extent that they could barely live.
Ismail Pasha, the last Khedive, would,
I am told, often collect taxes twice a
year, coming down upon the farmers for
a second sum after he had demanded the
regular amount. If they were not able to
supply it the tax-gatherers sold their
stock at auction, and he had the right to
make such as he pleased work for him
for nothing. At present there arc about
five million acres of land under cultiva
tion in Egypt, and there is an agricul
tural population of more than four mil
lions. This gives less than one and
one-fifth acre per person, and the taxes
amount to from $4 to 89 an acre. The
best lands of Egypt pay §9 an acre, and
this is only one form of Egyptian taxa
tion.
Just outside of Cairo there is a
Government office, through which every
piece of produce brought into the city
for sale must pass, and every article is
taxed. The farmer who brings a donkey
load of grass to the city for sale must
Dav a Dercentaife on its value before he
Terms—sl.2s in Advance; $1.50 after Three Months,
can go in with it. It is the same with a
chicken or a pigeon, a basket of vegeta
bles or anything that the farmer raises.
Then there is a tax upon date trees
amounting to $200,000 a year, upon sidt
of more than a million, upon tobacco
and slaughter houses, aud in fact upon
everything Under the Egyptian sun. The
donkey boy here pays a tax, the doctor
pays a tax, the storekeeper is taxed, and
there is in addition to this a general
tariff of eight per cent, on all imports.
There are taxes upon sheep and goats,
which arc paid whether the animals are
sold or not. There are taxes on wells,
taxes on fisheries and taxes paid for land
which Egypt once owned, but which she
gave up with the loss of Soudan. It is
no wonder that the Egyptian people are
poor. It is a wonder that they can exist
at all.
Hat Finishing is Unhealthful.
Hat finishing is conceded to be the
most unhealthy branch of the hatting
trade. Statistics on the subject show
that a larger percentage of finishers dies
every year than in any other branch of
the business. The semi-annual report of
the Hat Finishers' International Union
shows that during the past six months
twenty-one members have died. Of that
number eight died of consumption, and
the deaths of the majority of the re
maining were directly traceable to the
unwholesome surroundings in which a
finisher had to work.
Hat sizing is a far healthier occupation
than hat finishing. The large number of
finishers who die of consumption would
seem to bear testimony to this. And then
again, one very rarely sees an old man
working at finishing while you can see
men of sixty and seventy years of age
rubbing away on hats at a sizing kettle.
One of the journeymen explained this to
me in a different manner not long ago,
and said that the reason old men were not
seen working at finishing was that nobody
wanted them, nobody would have them.
"Foremen nowadays will not shop a
man if he has any gray hairs in his head;
they have an idea that ho cannot do his
work properly, and it is getting so that
we are all like old horses—turned out to
die." That was his idea of the situa
tion, and probably he is not far away
from the truth. He said that there were
plenty of finishers of mature years, but
that they were not in the hat shops. They
have to look out for some other means of
earning a subsistence, or else get into
some shop where the work is not of too
high a grade, and as a consequence does
not requiie such a very great amount of
skill to perform it.
Some years ago when women's napped
hats were all the rage some very old men
putin an appearance at the sizer's kettle.
They had learned how to nap a hat iu
their young days, and their good right
had not forgotten its cunning. It is
said that it was a common thing
four or five years ago to sec men of sev
enty or eighty years of age napping hats.
This was particularly the case iu Connec
ticut. Very few finishers live to be sev
enty or eighty; none are ever seen work
ing at that age. About forty years is the
average duration of a finisher's life.—
Hatter and Furrier.
Sending a Map or Picture by Telegraph.
The fac-similc telegraph, by which
manuscript, maps or pictures may be
transmitted, is a species of the automatic
method already described, in which the
receiver is actuated synchronously with
its transmitter. By Lenoir's method a
picture or map is outlined with insulating
ink upon the cylindrical surface of a ro
tating drum, which revolves under a
point having a slow movement along the
nxis of the cylinder, and thus the con
ducting point goes over the cylindrical
surface of a spiral path. The electrical
circuit will be broken by every ink
mark on the cylinder which is in this path,
and thereby corresponding marks are
made in a spiral line by an ink-marker
upon a drum at the receiving end. To
produce these outlines it is only neces
sary that the two drums be rotated in
unison. This system is of little utility,
there being no apparent demand for fac
simile transmission, particularly at so
great an expense of speed, for it will l>e
seen that instead of making a character,
of the alphabet by a very few separate
pulses, as is done by Morse, the number
must be greatly increased. Many dots
become necessary to show the outlines
of the. more complex characters.
The pantclegraph is an interesting type
of the fae-simile method. In this form
the movements of a pen in the writer's
hand prod tire corresponding movements
of a pen at the distant station, and
thereby a fac-simile record. ScrAme*.
NO. 49.
FUN.
An electric spark—Milking love by
telegraph.— Washington Capital.
"How're yer chills?" "Awful." "So
arc mine." "Shake." They shake.— Life.
It is already stated that the Earl of
Fife's bride calls him "tootsie."—Stalei
iiuin.
There is one book at which critics
never turn up their noses and that is the
pocketbook.
"Yes," said the literary man with a
sigh, "style is a tiue thing for a writer to
have, but when his wife's got it too, it
takes all the profit away."— Rnxton Post.
Latest from Niagara Falls: Hackman
(on a very warm da}') —"Fifty cents,
boss." Buffalo 'i rist—"What for?"
Hackman—"You an* v T gal has been
standin' in der shade fci- * minutes."
A peripatetic musician pia-ing upou
au accordion, is interrupted by i. police
man: "Have you a license?" "No."
"Then accompany me." "Certainly.
What would you like to sing?"— French
Paper.
A chiropodist will henceforth be at
tached to every German regiment. Here
tofore it has not been considered neces
sary to employ a corn doctor to put the
German soldier on a war footing.—Nor
rit town Herald.
Trumble (at the Snake Creek House) —
"What do you charge for first-class accom
modations?" Clerk—"Well,we will board
you for fifteen dollars, but if yer sleeps
in yer trunk, we knocks off tree dollars a
week."— Time.
Inquiring Youth—"What are those
waterproof gloves for, Mr. O'Patrick?"
Mr. O'Patrick—"Why, me jewel, sure
and they're for the convanienee of thim
folks as wants to wash their hands wid
out wetting their skin at all, at all."—
Fun.
Mean Contractor (to workman who fell
from a three-story wall that he was tear
ing down) —"I'll have to dock you for
lost time." Workman (unhurt) —"I
thought I was saving time coming down
that way. Next time I'll take the lad
der."—New York Sun.
A Trick of Paris Newsdealers.
In French newspaper-slang, "bouil
lon" means that portion of any day's is
sue of a paper that remains unsold. The
French papers have the custom of taking
back from the keepers of the kiosks the
whole, or a part, of this surplus every
day. This seems to have suggested to
the kiosk-keepers a little trick by which
to increase their revenue, and some of
them have been in the habit of lending
out copies of the various journals to
cafes and wine-shops in their neighbor
hood, receiving them back at night, and
returning them to the newspaper offices
with the "bouillon" next morning. A
few weeks ago the Figaro engaged a
sheriff's officer to make a round of the
wine-shops in a suspected quarter, call
ing for a "bock" and the newspapers in
each place, and leaving a private mark
on each copy of the Figaro that was
given him. The next morning he went
over the same ground with the "bouil
lon" gatherers, and discovered many
marked copies of the paper in the "bouil
lon." The Figaro thought, best not to
proceed in a criminal suit against the
fraudulent kiosk keepers, but sued them
for damages before the tribunal of the
Seine, which h;is just compelled five of
them to pay from ten to thirty-five francs
apiece.— New York Evening Post.
What Royalty Eats.
In Italy, the court dines around a table
covered with a magnificent service in gold;
it is the only luxury; there are no flow
ers, and the dishes of the country are in
variably served—above all, the fritto,
composed of a foundation of artichokes,
liver, brains, and cocks' combs. At the
German court, the finest table is that of
the Grand Duchess of Baden; she has an
excellent French cuisine and a Parisian
chef. The Queen of Sweden has a very
tempting table and bill of faro—soups,
almost always milk, and beefsteak; one
of her favorite dishes is composed of balls
of mincemeat, cooked with oil and sur
rounded with a garnishing of poached
eggs; then there is almost at each repast
the national plate, salmon preserved in
earth. Queen Victoria's favorite wine is
pale sherry, which she drinks front a
beautifully carved silver cup, inherited
frojn Queen Anne. The royal dinner is
very complete. The table is lighted with
{fold candelabra, furnished with candles;
orchids, placed in epergnes, rise up to
the ceiling. The Queen eats a special
bread, square, well cooked, and of a
mastic color.-- -Argonaut.