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.