SULLIVAN REPUBLICAN. W. M. CHENEY, Publisher. VOL. VTII. A Presage. 1 have a friend, a dear one. Her name—but why I confesst You very rarely hear one More fascinating—gnessl Her merry voice is sweeter Than any rillet's flow; Her laugh has more of metro Than any song I know. Her lovely eyes that lighten When robins softly sing Are like the skies that brighten At dawn in early spring; Her cheeks —his brain is duller Than dunce's who'll not own They've all the pinky color Of apple buds half blown. You will agree it's pleasant That such a one should send Each year a charming present To me, "her dearest friend." And this year I've a presage- It makes my pulses start- That with a tender message She'll give to me her heart. — £i ssell Clinton in Harper's Magazine. "A NICE OLr WOMAN." BY FLORENCE ALLEN* "Oh dear!" It was a pretty little face which was all puckered up into such a lot of wor ried little wrinkle; pretty in spite of the shadow of care in the fair blue eyes, and the tired drop at the corner of the girlish mouth. The owner of the face and the wrinkles and the blue 3yes and the mouth in question, was a flight, rather delicate-looking girl of about 18 who stood, attired in a faded calico dress, in the doorway of a small wood-colored cottage (or "cabin" as lliey more truthfully call such edifices in the mountains) looking out at the sunny slope of the road before her. Two fresh-faced smiling girls of her own age had just gone by, stopping to lay a pleasant word or two as they passed; and the sight of their pretty, though simple, lawn dresses and float ing ribbons had brought, as they de parted, those worried wrinkles to the face that should have been as bright as theirs, and the impatient exclamation with which our story begins to her generally uncomplaining lips. As a general thing Phrosy Miller (she was Euphrosyno by rights, through the instrumentality of her father, who had found the name in his somewhat limited reading, and had delighted in its long drawn sweetness,) was a very cheerful and contented girl in spite of the troubles and hard work that had come into her young life so early; but, just it present, thero was something especial upon her mind, and that was the pic uic. It was to be in just four weeks from today, and all the girls were going; and she, who had stayed at home so much and so patiently for the last year, felt as though she rea'ly must go, too. But bow? Tiiat was the question that brought the worried little wrinkles to the front so conspicuously. All the girls were going to have new lawn dresses and fresh ribbons for the occasion, and "do U])' her blue muslin as best she could (and she was something wonderful in the laundress line all her neighbors tail,) it would not look any way but aid and faded; and her ribbons—well, tier small stock thereof had been cleaned and dyed and "done over" so often that they were merely a travesty upon their kind. Of course a new dress and the requisite adornments would cost very little; but, as Phrosy said, tersely but truly, "If diamonds could be bought fo» a nickel apiece and one didn't have '.ho nickel, where would be the comfort of it?'' Money had been very tight in the Miller family ever since Mr. Miller's long ilness, ending in his death, had put :he little household under a load of 3ebt which seemed at first, simply over whelming. Ben Miller—a wild and reckless young fellow he had been while his father was well and strong and able to ore for the mother and sister—had steadied down wonderfully and taken tho burden of ex istence on his shoulders patiently and manfully. Mrs. Miller and Phrosy had sconomized in every way, even to tho extent of taking some of the many wootl- Dhoppers about as boarders, and they hud worked early and late and sewed and ienied themselves until the debt was paid, and the future began to look a lit tle brighter. Then fate frowned on them #nce again. Mis. Miller, a large, heavy and somewhat unwieldy woman, ingoing ilown the back-steps one day mule a misstep and fell, receiving an injury to her side which ma le her utterly help less. Since then Phrosy had found life harder than ever. Additional doctor's bills piled lu uyou them; Mrs. Miller instead of helping as before was now as helpless as a baby and so nervously irri table that keeping boarders longer was an impossibility even had Phrosy been able to do the work. So it was that every cent that came into the family had to be earned by Ben; and so it was that the new lawn dress, so ardently desired, seemed to be among the impossibilities of existence, for Ben's wages were small at best and there were at least a dozen ways for every dollar. And Phrosy thought altogether too much of her patient and kind-hearted brother, who denied himself so much to keep her and his invalid mother from want, to add to his burdens by telling him her own troubles. "If there was only something that I could do myself to earn a little money," she said to herself, "but there doesn't seem to be. Mother wouldn't hear to my running the machine steadily, even if 1 could get sewing to do, and there is nothing else. It's a hopeless case, 1 guess." And, sighing heavily, Phrosy turned to enter the house in answer to a fretful call from within, but as sho did so her eyes fell upon the clothes-lino in the side-yard. "In one minute, mother," she said cheerily. "I'll just bring Ben's shirts in as I come by,—they're all ready to raw-starch and I can iron them by the supper fire." How whito and clean and sweet they were! As Phrosy gathered them into a stiffly awkward bundle in her arms she could not help bending her head to in hale the "smell of outdoors" (as she called it) that came from them. "They smell different from Chinese washing," she thought. "There's one thing certain, —poor as we are Beu's shirts are always the nicost done up in town," and then as that thought passed through her mind it left an inspiration behind it. That night after supper, when Ben was resting himself from his day's labor by "puttering" around the chicken houso and back-yard generally, and Mrn. 'Miller was chatting with a neigh bor who had opportunely dropped in, Phrosy, pleading an errand at the store, slipped away from them all and pro ceeded to put her inspiration to the test of practicality. "It might be a good idea," said kindly Mrs. Jenkins, to whom she had gone in her emergency, "but there's so many o' them plaguey Chineso around that it brings prices down dreadful, and most folks don't carc how a thing is done so it is done cheap." "But my things don't smell of opium and nastiness as tho Chinamen's do," averred Phrosy stoutly, "there must be some one who would rather pay a little higher and have things nice." " Such folks is scarcer than dia monds in dust heaps,'' was the senten tious reply. "I would myself, of course, but old Ma'am Gilman has kind of got a mortgage on me, and though she's failing dreadful and don't send things home fit to be seen some weeks, I kinder can't go back on her all at once." "Of course not," assented Phrosy unhesitatingly, ' 'that isn't what I want at all. But—see here—you ask Joe to inquire around up to Loren's mill and Ido believe he'll fiud something for me. I don't care to say a word to Ben or he'd fly all to pieces—nor you needn't tell Joe who it is that wants the things—just let him say 'some one who'll do them the best they can be done and needs the money.' " * 'All right," said Mrs. Jenkins, "I'll keep it as still as mice, whether it turns out well or not. You come by tomor row night and I'll tell you the verdict." And so, full of hopes and fears and fond imaginings, Phrosy wont home. The next night Mrs. Jenkins met her with her broad face beaming. "I've got six for you," she said, delightedly, "and six times two bits is a dollar and a half! you are in luck, Phrosy! 'Tain't one of the mill hands either, but a young fellow that has bought out the old Bradbury ranch. He's been up to tho city for tho last week and more and come homo with about a carload of dirty things—its been that hot up there, Joe says, that you can't keep nothing decent two minutes, and old Mrs. Bul gal that cooks up there don't know beans about doing up, so the grist naturally comes to your mil!, and I'm glad of it for one." "And I for two," answered Phrosy gleefully, and then, with a light and thankful lieart she took possession of her somewhat bulky bundle and w<nt merrily homeward. LAPOIITE, PA.., FRIDAY, JANUARY 24, 1890. The next day six whito shirts fluttered upon the Millers' clothes-line; t'us next day—stiff and shiny and odorous only of Heaven's pure breetes—they went to their owner, and Joe brought back to his mother in return tho silver which looked to Phrosy brighter and better than silver ever looked before. lie brought something else, too, an over grown bundle of shirts which had evi dently seen sorrow and had not lived tho lives that aristocratic white shirts ought to live. ' These belong to tho mill boys," he explained, "they got a sight at the others and nothing to do but thoy must send these down. They're a pretty hard lot," (meaning tho shirts and not the mill boys) "but I guess your old woman can get 'em clean, mother." And his mother, chuckling a little as she thought of "her old woman" took tho bundle and informed her son that anything of the kind was welcome until further orders. That week, in tho neighbors' estima tions, Ben Miller fairly blossomed with shirts, for tho number of those useful and ornamental garments that huug on the Millers' lino was something abso lutely unprecedented. "Thirteen shirts for one poor work ingman is tho worst I ever heard!" as severated tho woman next door, whose propinquity gave her, in her own esti mation, a right to criticise the Millers with more frankness than "manners." "I wouldn't slave myself to death for the sako of Ben's vanity if I was his sister!" But Phrosy smiled serenely. "I don't call Ben over vain myself,'' she answered, "and I'm sure lam not slaving myself to death or near it for any one, and as long as I'm satisfied 1 don't seo what difference the size of my washings ought to mako to any one else." And with this tho officious and would-be inquisitive neighbor was forced to retire discomfited. Phrosy went to the picnic under Mrs. Jenkins' protecting wing (ono of jfirs. Miller's whilom cronios consenting gUd ly to come and spend the day with her) and sho had on a fresh pink lawn and ribbons to match and looked for all tho world like a poach-blossom. The picnic was near tho "old Brad bury ranch" aud its new owner—a tall, sun-burned, masterful young fellow with a plain, sensible face and a pair of eyes that seemed to Phrosy tho kindest that she had ever seen—made them wel come to his home and was as hospitable as a true California!! always is; aud some way Phrosy was shyly conscious, after tho first, that thoso kind eye 3 looked a trifle more kindly upon her than they did upon some of tho more noticeable girls. Phrosy was always one of the useful ones, and when it fell to her lot to oversee tho arrangement of tho lunch her new acquaintance very quietly dis engaged himself from the others and devoted himself to her assistance, and Ben Miller, looking on from a distance, saw aud approved. "Phrosy's worth her weight in gold," he said to himself, "and Dalton is just tho kind of a follow that sho ought to have. I'd givo four bits to have it turn out that way." That night Phrosy enme home tired but radiant. John Dalton had har nessed up his two-horse team and brought part of the picnickers down to the village himself, "just to bo socia ble," he had said; and he had invited her to sit besido him on the front seat, and he had, moreover, told Ben that ho was coming down to play him a game of checkers now and then when the evenings got a little longer. What wonder was it that tho world seemed rose-colored to Phrosy? and what wonder was it that when John Dalton—not waiting for the evenings to lengthen perceptibly—made his appear ance in her home and, after making frionds with her mother, proceeded to devote himself especially to that lady's daughter, that sho thought herself the happiest girl in tho world. Only one thing shadowed her heart. Supposing that ho should be angry when he found out that tho shirts, which still came, through Mis. Jenkins, to that mysteri ous "old woman" wero her task, and that he was making love to his washer woman? That fear made her almost cowardly after sho began to feel that she was growing to care for this quiet, manly, young fellow as sho had never cared for any one else before; and al though sho knew that she must tell him some day, she put that day off as long as possible and grew, girl- fashion, as nervous aud feverish and miserable as possible over her innocent little secret, until even her mother noticed that Phrosy was ' 'fretting" as she called it, aud wondered thereat. One day, John Dalton brought mat ters to a focus by simply and seriously asking Phrosy if she could make up her mind to come to him, and let him take care of her as he had longed to do ever since he first met her. "I think that I fell in love with you at first sight," he said, in his straight forward way, "and ever sinco then I have been hoping that you would let me mako things easier for you somo day. Do you care for mo enough to be my wife, Phrosy?' 1 Poor Phrosy I —sho blushed and hesi tated and then put out her hands like a frightened child. "I—l am afraid I do," sho faltered, j "but first I must tell you about—about the shirts!" John Dalton was mystified, but cer tainly thero was nothing about shirts that could separate them. He prisoned tho pleading hands lovingly and smiled down into her blushing face. "Never | mind tho shirts," he said, "Ben must j get some one else to do his up for the I future; and, as for me, you'll never j have any trouble about mine, for there ' is a nice old woman who does mine up j like new—you couldn't get the job j away from her if you wanted to, my | dear. " Phrosy's face was a sight to see now, j between laughing and crying, cmbar- I rassment and half-frightened amuse- ! mont. "Oh, John Dalton!" she said, j pushing him away very feebly, "you'll j never want to marry me now, for it j isn't Ben's shirts I am thinking of at j all—it's yours; and I—l never meant to deceivo you at all, but I wanted a new dress so badly, at first; and then, after wards, it was such an easy way to earn a little, and it helped along so. Pleaso don't be angry, aud pleasj don't laugh, ' but I'm the 'nico old woman,' John, and I am very sorry!" « * » * » Phrosy Miller is Mrs. John Dalton now, and is as happy as possible in hor i lovely home, where her mother has grown strong and well, and where Ben has always a room and place of his own. She doesn't "do up" shirts at all now, ! for the babies claim her attention; but ! as her husband's linen is always im maculato it is to be supposed that somo other "nico old woman" has been fouud who gives satisfaction in that line. The Ilvuseietfe. How tho Trout Was Caught Otis Goddard of East Hill, walko 1 j into Blakcsley, Penn., the other day to have his oxen shod. Whilo wait ing in the blacksmith shop, the brawny | young backwoodsman told this fish story, declaring that Jack Hayner, who was with him when ho caught the trout, would swoar to every word of his statement. For months God dard had triod to land a wily old trout that lurked in ono of tho deep pools in Tobyhanna Creek. Ho had I angled, ho said, with flies, grasshop- ' pers, worms, minnows and other kinds ! of bait, but ho couldn't gat tho big j trout to notice any of them. He had \ seen the cunning speckled fellow timo and again and he wanted him ever so much. One day in July ho caught a little deer mouse in the pasture, and 1 ho stuck his hook through the looso skin on the mouse's neck and threw it into tho pool. It was a lively swimmer, but it hadn't swam six feet beforo the trout gobbled it with a dash that sent his snout out of the | water. That was an unfortunate move for tho trout, because within fivo sec- i onds Goddard had him flopping on dry land, with his hat over tho fight- { ing beauty. Tho trout weighed two i pounds and fourteen ounces, Goddard declared. A Touching Episode. A statue commemorating a touching little episode in the life of the late Ger • man emperor, Frederick, is about to be erected at Kaiserslauton. When Fred erick was crown princo ho visited one of tho orphan asylums of that town. Among the children was a sickly an.l ! sad-faced little boy. Frederick noticed him, took hiin in his arms and thereup on agreed to become his godfather. Th< child, to whom a caress was a stranger, I appeared somewhat frightened at first, but soon got over his difficulty and be gan to play with the Priuce's medals and decorations. Tho statuo in ques tion will represout tho Princa with a baby in his arms, aud tho youngster tugging at his cordons and crosses. 1 Terms— sl.2s in Advance; $1.50 after Three Months, Japanese Hatred of Foreigners. An incident occurrod in Yokohama only a few years ago which will serve to show how intenso the feeling against foreigners may become. A dispute had arisen between one of the foreign firms and a native tea merchant as to the price the former was to pay for the fragrant herb. A public meeting of the native tea men was called to discuss the matter (boycotts of native against the foreign houses aro common) and two foreign merchants who understood the languago were present. For a few minutes everything went smoothly, when suddenly an eloquent young Jap anese launched forth a torrent of in vective and abuse against foreigners in general, calling them a curse to Japan, i a race whoso only God was dollars and j cents, aud hoping that tho fair Land of l tho Morning would ono day be rid of thoir accuncd presonco. Tne assembly became very much excited; threats were uttered, and the two merchants, remem bering tho fierce passions hidden be neath tho polite exterior of the Japan ' ese, deemed it prudent to leave, and re ! treated in good ordsr. The story of I tho affair ran over Yokohama like fire ! in cottou, gathering energy as it went, t Next day the native journals referred | to it. Knots of people collected on the streets to discuss it. Foreigners, whose business or pleasure took them into the ' native town, were met with scowls. The jinrikisha-men, usually the meekest I of mortals, assumed airs of importance ! and waxed impudent. Tho servants in : the homes of tho foreigners showed its i influence. Small aud unimportant was tho beginning, in 24 hours this swelling wave of national feeling had swept through the lower classes, stirring overy hoart and serving to show how intenso and near tho surface is tho dis liko to the foreigner. The Japaneso have been for centuries a nation of soldiers, and their courage is beyond question. But thoy are gentle, hospitable, kind and polite. Those who know tho t<*mpor of tho peoplo havo long bollevod that tho largo sums which havo for years bocn spent upon war material, military and naval, have not been intended for tho ordinary defenso of the country alone, but wero preparations for the day when Japan, having exhausted every effort to expunge tho hated extra-territorial flaujo, would tear up tho treatios and demand freedom or nou-intercourse and stand ready for the alternative of war.— New York Times. How to Tako Care of the Eyes. Dr. Lincoln of Boston formulates the following rules for the care of the eyos for school work: 1. A comfortable temperature, aud especially let tho feet be warm and dry. 2. Good ventilation. 3. Clothing at tho neck loose; tho same as regards tho rest of tho body. 4. Posture erect; never read lying i down or stooping. 5. Little study beforo breakfast or directly aftor a hoarty meal; nono at all at twilight or late at night. 6. Great caution about study after j recovery from fevers. 7. Light r.bundant, but not daz zling. 8. Sun not shining on desk or on objects in front of the scholar. •). Light coming from the left hand, or left and rear, under some circum stances from iu front. 10. The book held at right ang'et to the lino of sight, or nearly so. 11.' Frequently rest by looking up. 12. Distance of book from the eye ! about fitteeu inches. Ancient Babylon. Babylon, tho groat city of the Chal - deans, was fivo times as largo as the London of today. Its walls were as l.igli as lofty church stoeples—34o feel from the ground. The palaco of Nebuchadnezzar, the destroyer of Jeru salem, was seven miles in circumfer ence. The bad of the groat Euphrates was paved with bricks. Tho palaces and temples wero full of wonderful : triumphs of painter, sculptor, and of libraries of history, science and letters. The Babylonians were astroaomors at great proficiency, considering the ago 1 in which they lived, and they watched the movements of the heaveniy bodies with intenso interest and rocorded them with accuracy. The moon was the ob ject of the r especial regard, and her changes wero note.i with unflagging assiduity and recorded in calendatr. 1 Thev called her the father of the im NO. 15. Old Bongs. Over and over again, In every time and tongue, In every style and strain Have the world's old songs been sung; Since the sigh from the soul was stirred, Since the heart of a man was broken, Dave the notes of despair been heard And the rythm of pain been spoken. Tie song that you sing today, Sweet on the printed pages, Was sung in the far away, In the youth of the worn-out ages; The charm of your love-born tune, The gems that your lines uncover, Were set in some savage tune By the heart of some pagan lover. The fancies that fill your rhymes, The visions that haunt your lays, Are the spectres of olden times And the ghosts of forgotten days; Ye players on notes of woe, Ye dreamers of love and sorrow, They sang in the years ago The songs you will sing to-morrow. But what if the rhymes are new, And what if the thoughts are old, If the touch of the chord be true And the flight of the singer bold! Let them come to us still again, To-morrow and yet hereafter, Fresh as a morning's rain, Old as the sob and the laughter. HUMOROUS. A flourishing man—The professor of penmanship. Why not call a balloon a tramp? It has no visible means of support. First Cucumber—l'm in bad shape. Second Cucumber—You do look seedy. It is not surprising to find th»t air ■hip schemes arc supported entirely on wind. The eagle is dear to the American heart, but the doublo eagle ia twice as dear. The monkey goes to the sunny sido of the tree when ho wants a warmer climb. Borne bard should arise to sing the mourning caused by the individual's inhumanity to himself. It would seem that when seamen get tired of ship's faro they would try to gather some ocean currents. The Bentcnce "Ten dollars or thirty days'' is another proof of the truth of the adage that time is money. "I never explain my jokes, sir," said the humorist, curtly. "That's where you'ro wise, old boy," a bystander re marked. The Philosopher at the Boarding house— "Mrs. Brown, am I so very large today, or is it the slice of bread that is so small?" Sarcastic Individual (pointedly) Well, tho fools uro n't all dead yet. The Other Man—What's the matter— don't you feel well? Wo know men who insist at every point upon beating their way through life, but we observe that they all draw the line at a carpet. Stanley has taught the Africanssome thing about exploration, but ho has not taught them how to spell. • The names of some of the places ho ha 3 visited would break a Russian's jaw. She got herself wedged in tho door way and kept a score of people waiting. "Just like a woman," muttered a male growler. "Yes," replied the woman, sweetly; "of course, you do. What a pity the sentiment isn't returned." The correspondent who wants to know "how to cook cabbage without having an odor in the house," is in formed that it can be accomplished by boiling the cabbage in tho back yard, keeping the doors and windows of the tightly closed while it is cooking. The Triumphs of Snrgory. A remarkable instance of surgical progress which occurred in the practice of Prof, von Bergman n of Berlin the other day is reported. The Professor had two patients who were simultane ously brought to him for operations, one requiring amputation of the thigh at the hip }oint, the other needing a portion of the humerus removed on ac count of the bono being extensively diseased. The tirat operation to be done was the amputation, and imme diately afterwards the surgeon pro ceeded to excise the diseased portion of the humerus. The result of this latter procedure was necessarily to make a gap in the bone, but a piece of the thigh bone was taken from the limb which had just been amputated and fixed in the gap, by which the con tinuity of the humerus was completely restored. Perfect union took place, and the patient recovered with a useful arm.— l'alL Mali UautU.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers