SULLIVAN REPUBLICAN.
W, M. CHENEY, Publisher.
VOL. VII.
DROUGHT.
Prom weekto week thorn came no rain,
The very birds took flight.
The river shrank within its bed,
The borders of the world grow red
With woods that flamed by nighfc
No rest beneath the fearful sun.
No shelter brought the moon;
liean cattle on the reeded fen
Searched every hole for drink, anif met
Dropped dead beneath the noon.
And ever as each sun went down
Beyond the reeling plain,
the mocking sky uprist,
Like phantoms from the burning west,
Dim clouds that brought no rain.
Each root and leaf and living thing
Fell sicklier day by day,
And X, that still must live and see
Thaag»ny of plant and tree.
Grew weary even as they.
But oh, at last, the joy, the change;
With sudden sigh and start
I woke about the middle night.
And thought that something strange and
bright
Had burst upon my heart.
With surging of great winds, a lull
And hush upon the plain, i
A hollow murmer far aloof,
And then a roar upon the roof,
Down came the rushing rain.
—.4. Lampman, in Srribner's.
A Startling Experience.
BY 1.11.Y TYNEB.
.Tosic McClure was always plucky.
Every one said so, and what every one
says is pretty apt to have some truth in
it. She was plucky from the hour of
ber birth, when, a poor, puny, post
humous little creature, she was sent into
the world to assuage the sorrow of a half
heart-broken widow-mother—a delicate
creature whose near friends were few and
whose resources were slender.
Josie grew up the delight of her
mother's heart. A quick-witted little
red-haired termagant, some were pleased
to term her, but these were, as a rule,
such of her schoolmates as had cause to
fear her just wrath for misdoings of their
own. Big boys who tormented their
smaller brethren and girls who stooped
to petty meannesses were .Tosie's special 1
detestation. But Josie's school life could
not last as long as that of most girls. It
came upon her all at once one day that
she had a mission in the world, namely,
to assist in providing for herself and her
mother. I shall always believe that I
first put the notion in her head ofbecoiu- '
ing a telegraph operator. She used to
come up to the depot of that sleepy vil
lage nearly every day on her way home
from school and watch me at my work.
I was station-master, train-dispatcher and :
general operator all in one.
"I don't think I could ever learn to
send a message,"she said one day, as she (
stood watching me.
"Oh, yes, you could," I answered. |
"In fact, I think you'd soon become an j
expert."
She looked up sharply with her bright,
red-hazel eyes.
"What makes you think so?"
"Your quick nature and good sense,"
I said. "I don't believe you'd ever lose
your head."
"No; I am pretty cool. Remember
when Crittenden's horse ran away with I
Grace and me? I made Grace drop out
over the rear of the wagon. Neither of
us was scratched. I was just as cool that |
moment as I am now. Grace was scream
ing murder."
"If you had a position like mine," I
laughed, "there wouldn't be much to 1
scare you. It's all 1 can do to keep
awake—some days."
"I'd rather go farther West," said j
Josie.
Briefly it happened to suit her.
She took a few lessons of me. I gave ]
her something of a start. Then she went'
to the city and took a regular course of
instruction. The next I knew she had :
been assigned to a station five hundred
miles further toward the setting sun. i
Her mother and herself removed at once
from our midst and Josie was lost to me, j
save for a sparkling little epistle I used I
to receive every week or ten days detail- !
ing her various experiences.
I'm sure I don't know how I should
have gotten on without her letters,l
missed her so at first. It turned fright- i
fully dull and sleepy at my station, but I |
managed to keep awake and attend to
things as they deserved. Several months
passed. Winter slipped away and spring !
moved along slowly. Josie's letters came
regularly to gladden my heart.
"Haven't much excitement out here," |
she wrote. "No Indians and only an
occasional train robbery. No smash-ups, ;
no collisions, nothing lively. Not many j
messages. Sometimes I think I'll call
7<mi up and chat a little; then the round- |
about way puts me cut of the humor.
'Take a vacation and visit us soon.
• Mother will be so glad to see you. She's
£ crazy about her chickens; raising an enor
; mous number. And such luck! They're
! always falling into the soft-soap keg or
; something else. Mother's health is just
; splendid. As for me, I've gained fifteen
4pounds," etc., eke.
It was this that put the notion in my
head. I obtained a substitute and took
' my vacation in early June.
The evening of the next day I alighted
j from the way train at the town where
i Josie and her mother lived—at the sta
tion where Josie herself was a fixture.
1 A trim little figure came running
• toward me. It was she. She had on a
i plain gingham dress and a jaunty cap
; 'was pushed back from the auburn hair
■ curling on her forehead. She gave me a
good hearty handshaking and ordered me
into the station.
"Gracious!" said I; "not much more
than a shed. Do you have it all to your
self?"
"Pretty often. There's a man around
sometimes, but he's a lazy sort of a crea
ture and, to tell the truth, I haven't much
| confidence in him. I've got my eye on j
him pretty close, lie went ofl this after
: noon with a queer-looking character,
| some stranger friend of his. Where they
went to is a mystery; might have been
fishing, though folks don't fish at mid- j
! day. Now," she went on, changing her
subject with her old vivacity, "it's just
about half an hour till supper time. I'll
give you full directions how togo and
! you start at once. Walk fast and you'll
j be iu time. And won't mother be pleased,
I though! You see, I've got my supper
I here in a tin pail. I've got to stay and
see the express go by all right—
-1 interrupted her with the wish that j
she would allow me to remain with her. {
] But she shook her head.
"No, T haven't enough supper for two
and mother's all alone. You can come
back after me if you like, though I don't
mind the walk alone. Haven't the slight
est idea how it feels to be afraid. Start
right along now; it's a good mile."
She gave me the directions and I set
out, rather reluctantly, it must be con
fessed.
The station stood somewhat above the
village, the railroad wound past on an
embankment, crossing a river gulley on a
high bridge a short distance to the west.
I followed Josie's directions; went
down through the village and up the
road leading to her home. Mrs. McClure
gave me a delightful welcome and a sup
per beyond description. We had a pleas
ant talk of old times and new. She spoke
of Josie's goodness and filial affection un
til tears came into her eyes and my own
as well.
Then I rose to return to the station.
I shall never know precisely what
| thought it was came into my mind and
! caused me to hasten my footsteps. Time
: had flown. It was 8 o'clock and after,
j and growing quite dark. The sky had
] clouded over, as if a storm were impend
ing, and the quiet of the village was un
earthly.
I hurried on; I almost ran, and finally
reached the station. But what was my
surprise to find .Tosie was not there. She
had not gone home, for her tin pail stood
upon the table and a handkerchief lay on
the floor beneath. I glanced in the pail.
Her supper was yet untouched. The
place was growing dark and no lamp
lighted. Suddenly, "click, click," from
the table. I listened and knew that some
one was calling up this station. "T.
W.," "T. W." I knew that .Tosie was
"T. W." Whoever it was calling per
sisted so that I grew uneasy. Where
could the girl have gone? At length, as
she did not come, I answered the call.
"Well, what is it?" "About the ex
press," the answer came. "There is no
mistake?" I hesitated. What should I
say? "Repeat instructions. 'T. W.' is
out for the moment.'' I knew only that
the express would come from the west,
and this was a man talking at a station
fifty or sixty miles to the east. He an
swered after a moment: "Matter of life
or death. Express will leave A in
ten minutes. Should switch at P
(Josio's station) and wait for special from
east to pass. Other train blocked with
freight. For God's sake, fix it right. No
direct wire from here to A ."
A cold chill ran over me. Where was
■Tosie? How could 1 call tip the other
station? I made an attempt but got no
answer. I waited a little, but no Josie.
It was growing darker. I rushed out on
the platform and looked up and down.
There was a small shed across the track.
Iran over and wren-hed open the door,
but could see nothing for the darkness.
"Josie," I called despairingly. Hark!
LA PORTE, PA., FRIDAY, OCTOBER 4, 1889.
I What sound was that, faint and fa
\ miliar, click, click-click. "I listened
j without breathing. "I am here," it
| said. "Bound and gagged; tied down se
I can't get my hands free or stir. Un
loose me quickly."
I groped my way into the shed, stum
bled over piles of wood and came to
! something warm and human.
It was a moment's work to release her.
"Great God?" I cried, "who did
this?"
She caught her breath with a gasp.
"Back to the station," she cried,
"don't waste a second.' - We ran togeth
er. She caught the key and called up
the office Iliad spoken with. "Villainy,"
she telegraphed. "Wire to A cut.
Station man here in plot. Call up A
by D and G "
"Too late,"the answer came back.
"Express has left A by this. Flag
it!"
Josie turned and looked nt me for an
instant almost despairingly.
"What shall I do? The special has
left there. The express has started.
! They will meet on the same track. The
i scoundrels came on me just as I had
| taken a note of the special, so I should
make no mistake."
"We must flag the express!" I cried.
"We must flag both," she said. "This
may not be all that has been done."
While speaking she hail turned to light
the lamp and I could see how pale she
was.
"A lantern," I said then. Shehastened
to a box in the corner and took it out.
We trimmed and lighted it.
"This is only one," she said. "We
need two. Take this and go down the
track—you know, to the west. Stop the
express and tell them—that is all. 1 will
run to the nearest house, get another
lantern and go the other way."
I shuddered.
"Suppose those men come upon you?
No, you shall not go alone. I will
go "
"Hush!" she said. "Goquickly. The
express is most here."
And I obeyed. And as Iran I trembled
at the thought of her peril. I trembled
so that the lantern shook, but Iran on.
JOSIE ENDS THE STORY.
This was as far as Sam could write, j
poor boy. He always shudders when lie !
speaks of that night. But it was nothing j
after all so terrible. I got the other I
lantern in great haste, not from any neigh- 1
bor, for there was no time, but out from |
behind the box in the corner. Luckily I
I remembered in time. Then 1 ran— !
fast as I could, but feeling pretty shaky
as I crossed the bridge on the trestles and
heard the water far below. Sam turns
pale when I mention the bridge.
On and on 1 ran in the darkness with
my little lantern swinging until I heard a
low humming of the rails begin and saw
a distant light grow bright.
"Heaven give me strength," I prayed,
and stood there waving my lantern
wildly. The light came nearer. I kept
on swinging my lantern. I stepped from
the track, but kept on signaling. Thank
heaven the light came more slowly, the
special was stopping gradually—when at
my ear I heard voices of suppressed rage.
With a terrible oath some one seized me
and flung me with furious force upon the
ground.
Then I knew no more. But. it was all
right: the special picked me up and came
along slowly with men out ahead.
And Sam, dear boy, had met the ex
press, so all was well.
The people on the special made me a
nice little present, though I'm sure I
didn't want them to. Indeed, they made
a great fuss over me.
I had run so far I suppose they knew it
must have been exhausting. The scamps
who laid the plot made off, but after
ward were caught.
And Ham—Oh, well—Sam is my hus
band now.— Netn York Mercury.
A New Way to Catch Cod.
An interesting innovation in the method
of catching cod has just been made by
the French fishermen, coasting off New
foundland. They catch large periwinkles,
remove their shells, and use the creatures
for bait. The cod, it is said, have bitten
eagerly at. the new bait, and the owners
of the French vessels have caught fish so
fast that they were able to sail for France
in the first week of July, instead of Oc
tober, as usual. In England the whelk
has long been used for the same purpose
Soehetter Democrat- Chronicle.
The total production of pig iron and
steel, in tons, in England during 1888
was 11,304,170. The l.'nited States pro
auced 9,387,178 tons.
THE EASTERN POPE.
AN AUDIENCE WITH THE PATRI
ARCH OP JERUSALEM.
A Court of Glory Outshining the
Pomp of KiiißK —The I'atri
areh's Appearance—Si range
Court Formullt ics.
I have just had an audience with one
of the highest religious functionaries of
the Oriential world, says Frank Carpen
ter in a letter from Jerusalem. The Pa
triarch of Jerusalem has charge of the
Church of the Holy Sepulchre, and as
the head of the Greek Church in Syria,
Palestine and Arabia he is to his people
the Pope of the East. The reek Church
contains about fi2,000,000 members in
Russia—a number equal to the popula
tion of the United States. It has about
5,000,000 in Greece and Turkey, and it
is in Jerusalem the most powerful and
the richest church of all the denomina
tions represented there. There is no
King in the world who appears in such
splendor upon state occasions as the
Patriarch of Jerusalem. He wears cloth
of gold, and his great hat is covered
with magnificent diamonds, emeralds and
rubies. I lis bishops who march with
him have crosses of diamonds hanging to
their necks, and their dresses are of gold
and silver brocade, and the mitre and
other church implements are of solid
gold and silver. In the treasury of the
Greek Church here there are jewels which
would make the treasury of many a pal
ace commonplace, and the rich men and
the Kings of the world have for genera
tions been giving to this collection, think
ing that in so doing they have been buy
ing their way into heaven.
The Patriarch of Jerusalem lives in
one of the biggest and best mansions of
the Holy City. The American Consul
and myself ingoing to it wound in and
out through narrow vaulted streets. We
passed through arcades, and with the aid
of the consular eavttsses pushed our way
through the dense crowds of pilgrims,
Bedouins and Syrians, which are filling
the Holy City during this holy week.
We weut of course in Oriental state, j
dressed in our black morning coats, and J
preceded by the cavasses. The ca
vasses are the guard of the Consul on
state occasions.
At the Patriarch's mansion, which in
] deed is only a big, plain, stone house of
I two stories, we were met by several
priests in long black gowns, which fell in
j full folds from tlicir necks to their feet,
and in tall, round, blackcaps, with capes
falling down upon their backs. These
put their hands to their foreheads as we
entered and motioned us to come in. We
then ascended a wide stairway at the
sides, on which were brass railings, and
at the top of which stood more priests
similarly attired. Here we were taken
into a great hall where the portraits of
the Patriarchs of the past looked down
upon us out of gold frames, and then on
into a second grand salon in which were
u number of Turkish soldiers and church
dignitaries, and at the back of which in
a chair of state sat the Patriarch himself.
He rose as he saw us and moved toward
us. Tall, broad-shouldered and well
formed, he is one of the finest-looking
public men 1 have ever seen.
He has a magnificent head, well set
on a pair of broad shoulders; large, in
tellectual eyes, a big, straight nose and a
long, patriarchal beard of sable silver.
His high forehead was bordered with a
black cap of fine cloth, which rose for
full six inches above it, aud from the
back of which fell a cape of the same
color, forming a striking background to
his strong, intelligent face. He wore a
long, full gown of some fine sack cloth,
and he had two gorgeous gold medals
about his neck, each as big as the palm
of your hand, and between these hnng
a cross of diamonds. He met us in the
middle of the salon, shook hands with
us aud conducted us to a divan at the
right of his chair of state. We then
chatted through the interpreter, the Le
gation addressing him, according to
etiquette, as "Your Blessedness."
There was then some talk about the
Greek Church as to its extent and doe
tines, and while this was going on a
liveried servant brought in a silver tray
containing a golden bowl rilled with sil
ver spoons, several glasses of water, anil
two cut-glass dishes, one of which con
tained a brown mixture aud the other
was filled with preserved oranges cut in
small slices and floating in a molasses- j
like syrup. Luckily the tray was first
passed to the Consul, and I followed suit
in partaking of its delicacies. Liftiug one
of the silver spoons out of the gold
holder, I dipped it into the orange pre- I
Terms—sl.2s in Advance; $1.50 after Three Months.
serves, conveyed some to my mouth and
then dropping the spoon into another
dish reserved for it, took a sip
of the water. The preserves were
delicious and the water was good.
Then there was a little more talk about
the Greek Church and a second servant
came in with another tray more gorgeous
than the one preceding. Upon this were
wine glasses filled with a liquor the color
of the dark moss rose. It was flavored
with peppermint and it had the rich, oily
strength of age. Though scarcely more
than threo thimbles full, it brought a
pleasing warmth to the whole frame fivo
minutes after it was drank and the
doctrines of the Greek Church fell on my
ear like the poetry of Moore. This
I liquor was followed a few moments later
by a third waiter who brought in Turkish
coffee, served in little cups of fine china,
each the size of the smallest egg cup.
The coffee was as thick as Vermotji
molasses. It was sweet and delicious aid
was served without cream.
Coffee in Jerusalem is the same as
champagne in China. After the coffee is
served the caller can politely terminate
| his visit. We sipped the aromatic liquid
I and then telling the patriarch that we
| doubted not that he was fatigued with
j his labors of Holy Week, we arose to say
| good-bye. Before we did so the Turkish
Generals bade their adieus and to each of
these he handed an Easter egg from a
basket which sat on a table beside h ; s
chair. The Turks grasped his hand be
fore he could let goof the egg and bend
ing low, imprinted a kiss on his fist.
They then, with many crossings and
salaamings, bowed themselves out. We
said good-bye in American style, shaking
hands with "His Blessedness" and re
ceiving from him a present of a Bethle
hem egg.— New York World.
A Dog as Doorkeeper.
An Austrian banker went to Vienna on
business. lie arrived in the evening,
traveling with a large, handsome dog.
The two put up at a hotel, and next
morning the gentleman went out, bidding
care should be taken that his dog did not
stray from the house. The chambermaid
i went to make up the banker's room.
| Bruno was very pleased to see her,
I wagged his huge tail, licked her hand,
i and made friends thoroughly, until, her
business being done, she was about to
leave. Not so. Bruno calmly stretched
himself full length before the door, lie
explained, as perfectly as possible, that
I"he knew his duty." No one should
leave his master's room in his absence.
When the girl tried to pull the door
open sufficiently for her to slip out he
growled, showed his teeth, and finally
tried them on her legs. The woman's
screams brought another maid, and yet
another, and then in succession all the
waiters. Bruno was glad to let tham all
in, but he allowed uo one out. The
room became pretty well crowded and
every bell in the house meantime rang,
while the walls echoed cries of "Waiter!
waiter!" Finally, the lady who kept
the hotel appeared and pushed her way
irately into the room, asking angrily as
she walked in what sort of a picnic they
were all holding here. Bruno let her in,
too, but not out again—oh, no! When
the lady's husband appeared she called
to him loudly for heaven's sake to keep
outside, to send messengers scouring the
city for the banker, and, meantime, tr
endeavor to pacify the angry customers
downstairs.
That Austrian banker was a welcome
man when he arrived.—< \ll Mall Gazette.
Alpine Funerals.
A clue to the origin of the Irish wake
anil other funeral pomposities, may be
found in the funeral customs of some of
the Alpine regions. The circle of ac
quaintance of the more prosperous peo
ple of the villages often extends over
miles of country; and the friends of a
deceased propricto* vi 11 make long jour
neys to attend his jneral. The dictates
of hospitality require that their physical
wants be provided for, or, if not, they
will meet at the inn and naturally have
something very like a feast. In some
districts, even before death occurs and
the patient is in his last agonies, all
around are informed of the fact, and ex
pected to make a ceremonial last visit.
They enter the sick room, take a long
look at the dying mau and go their ways.
After death, when the body has been
prepared for burial, a table is spread
covered with refreshments, and open
house is held till the funeral,— yew YorP
St nr.
The Dowager Empress Frederick ol
O'rmany enjoys an income from all
sources of about 8360,000 a year.
NO. 52.
FUN.
Hens fire kept busy finding the means
for moving their crops.— Texas Siftivgs.
Ilay fever will make the most unassum
ing man blow his own horn.— Terra
Haute Express.
A man who owns a goat has only to
earn his bread; he has his butter for
nothing.— Rochester Post.
Mr. Edison is going to visit Krupp's
worke at Essen. He expects to meet therv
some of the biggest guns in Europe.—
Boston Herald.
"What are you laughing at?" "I was
thinking of how father's hand must have
burned after he boxed my ears to-day."
—Fliegcnde lilaetter.
Bride—"George, dear, when we rearh
town let us try to avoid leaving the im
pression that we are married." "All
right, Maude; you can lug this valise."
—Nebraska Journal.
Mr. Clubman—"My private secretary,
young Nieefellow, says he is an acquaint
ance of yours." Miss Citybellc—"What
impudence! I never met him except at
the seaside, and last summer I even re
fused to become engaged to him again."
—New York Weekly.
Modest.—"Doctor, will you let me
know how much I owe you?" "Oh, my
good woman, I know you are not in easy
circumstances, I will not charge you any
thing for my trouble." "Yes, that is all
very well, but who is to pay the apothe
cai„'?" — Fliegende Blaetter.
"Father," said the "boy, "I am going
to leave the farm. I've been rather
reckless, and I've decided togo out and
see what I can do for myself." "All
right, Sonny," responded the aged-sire.
"Good-bye; and I'll state I'll be ready to
kill a veal about next spring."— Washing
ton Capital.
Unearthing Ancient Skeletons.
A most remarkable story reached Den
ver from Aspen, Col., regarding an un
expected find in one of the principal
mines on the Aspen Mountain. On a
recent Thursday night the night shift in
the Minnie mine, Messrs. Donnelly,
I Mackey, Taylor and Gilfillan, putin two
l thirty-inch holes in the breast of the
! -tOO-foot level, and tired the blast just
before leiiving for the surface. On re
turning to the mine it was found that
the two shots had broken into a cave,
t which they explored.
Going in a few feet they found the
walls covered with crystalized lime and
lead that glittered like diamonds. Here
and there little stalactites hung from the
ceiling. The lime formation resembled
lace and frieze work of wondrous beauty.
The cave had a descent of about twenty
degrees, and they found rooms and
chambers grand beyond description.
They had entered about 200 feet when
they found a flint axe. A little further
was a pool of fresh water, and a strong
current of fresh air was felt. Further on
a chamber was discovered covered with
a brownish muck that was sticky. Gil
fillan, who was in the lead, suddenly
stopped and said:
"There sits a boy."
Sure enough there sat a human form.
The head was resting on the knees, and
the arms were drawn around the legs,
Indian fashion. A stone bowl and axe
were found beside the figure. The body
was well preserved, but in trying to lift
it one arm broke off. Other bodies in
different attitudes were found in the
chamber, but when disturbed they crum
bled. One body was brought out with
the loss of arms and feet.— New York
Sun.
Pampering Condemned Men.
Where the custom of pampering thfc
unfortunate wretches for a few days be
fore their execution originated has often
been discussed. The history of the re
ligious customs of the Aztec Indians be
fore the conquest of Mexico shows that
when a victim was to be led to the sacri
ficial stone to be deprived of his life as a
sacrifice to the gods, he was for soma
time before his death treated in royal
style. When they selected the subject
lor the sacrifice they bedecked him in
the richest manner, and showed him
every attentiou up to the lost minute be
fore the bloody sacrifice. An old ex-
Sheriff once gave it as his opinion that
the custom of the Aztecs might have
something to do with the practice of
feasting condemned murderers. The
general understanding is that it owes its
origin to the demand of humanity to
make the last hours of a person in this
world as comfortable and cheerful as
possible.— Graphic.
Queen Victoria has accumulated a for
tune of $20,000,000.