W. M. (JHENEY, Publisher. VdL. VIII. Goodbye! There's a kind o' chilly feelin' in the blowln' o' the breeze, And B seme o' saaness stealin' through the tresses o' the trees- And seems fallin' dreary on the mountains towerin' high, And I feel my cheeks grow teary a3 I bid you all goodbye! „ "Goodbye," the winds are sayin'; "good bye," the trees complain, As they bend low down an' whisper with their green leaves wet with rain; "Goodbye," the roses murmur, an' the bendin' lilies sigh As if they all felt sorry I have come —come to say goodbye. 1 reckon all have said it some time or other soft And easy like, with eyes cast down, that dared not look aloft For the tears that trembled in them —for the lips that choked the sigh, When it came a-swellin' from the heart an' made it beat goodbye! I didn't think 'twas hard to say; but standin' here alone. With the pleasant past behind me and the < future dim, unknown, A gloomin' yonder in the dark —the tears come to my eye, And I'm weepin' like a woman as I bid you all goodbye. ttie work I've do#e is with you; maybe some things went wrong, Like a note that mars the music in the swe?t flow of a song; But brethren- when you think of me, I only ask you woulu Pay as the Master said of one: "lie hath done what he could." And when you sit together in the time as yet to be, By your love-encircled firesides in the val leys fair and free, Let the sweet past come before you, and with something like a sigh, Just say: "We ain't forgot him since the day he said 'Goodbye!' " THE TIN BOX. "It is a very mysterious business," said Lawyer Simpkins, rubbing his nose, and adjusting his spectacles. "Hiram Green sent for me, ten days before he died, and gavo me his bonds and securities to draw the .July interest for him. 1 put them all back in the tin box myself, , and lio couutcd and examined them. The day ho died he tried to tell me something about Jerry and that box. 'Jerry—tin box—all in the box—Jerry,' was about all I could make out." "And the tin box was stolen," said Tom, the lawyer's sou and partner. "Well, it has disappeared. If it was stolen, it is of precious little use to the thief. Every paper in it could bo traced. Trust old Hiram Green to look out for that." "What was it worth?" "To a lawful owner, about twenty thousand dollars." "Then Jacob Green is so much poorer! I ain glad of it." "Tom! Tom! Jacob Green is our client!" "All right! I shall not proclaim my opinion on the house-top; but, between ourselves, I think ho is the meanest man I ever met. Why, he must be a rich man, and he grudges his family the necessaries of life. Look at Allic! There is not a servant at Rye Ilill who has not a better wardrobe tliau Alice Green 1 Just so!" said Lawyer Simpkins, with a twinkle in lm eyes. Her husband can make that all right though. Eh Tom?' Then Tom, blushing crim»on, began to ta'k again about the tin box and old Hiram Green's will. "Left everything to Jacob," said the lawyer; "the house, real estate, and personal effect*." "And Jerry?" •'Was not even mentioned in the will. Iliram Green never forgave Jerry for failing in business, declared he had no head, and wasn't fit to bo truitei with money. "lie was his nephew, though, just as much as Jacob, aud he nursed him faithfully at the last." '•But Jerry is a dreamer. Jacob will double every dollar the old man left, while Jerry would probably spend a legacy in a year or two." It was not alone in the lawyer's office that the subject of Hiram Green's will and the disappearance of tho tin box were topics of conversation. Every body at Rye Hill had an opinion to ex press, a theory to advance. Mrs. Jacob Green and Mrs. Jerry Green were talk ing the whole matter over on the porch of the old house where Hiram Groen had died, while J;rry sat on the steps, looking moodily down the garden path. "Jacob »ay*," ««ld that worthy's ■wife, "that b« will Had that box, if it's ifc.wi SULLIVAN REPUBLICAN! "I wonder what he'll do if it ain't," muttered Jerry, unheard by the others. "Ho says," continued Mrs. Jacob, "that it will take a heap of money to put this house in decent repair, and settle the businessl Dearl Dear! 110 talks as if his uncle's legacy left him poorer, instead of richer." "I wish it did!" muttered Jerry. Aloud he said, "Maria, if you'll get me a hammer aud some nails, I'll save Jacob twenty-fivo cents by fastening these steps. See here!'' and ho rattled the steps on which he was sitting, and which were wholly dotachcd from the porch. "I wish you would," said his sister in-law; ', I'm in a panic evory timo I go in or out, especially if I liavo tho baby in my arms. I'll get the ham mer. " "Dear me, Jerry," whispered his wife, a little later, "you go at them steps as if you wero trying to lininmcr the house down. Anybody would fan cy you had a spito against tho nails, you give them such vicious blows." "Hold your tongue," growled her husband. "1 am only making them 9nfc!" lie rose ns ho spoke, and straighened himself, mutter.ug. "That,s a good job done!" "Como, Sally," he said, presently, "we'll be getting home! I only came over to see if there was auy news of the tin box." "Not a sign to bo found,'' said Mrs. Jacob, " and Ido believo Jacob will be in a lunatic asylum it it doii'tturn up soon." Jerry tucked his wife's hand under his arm, and walked down the road to his own cottage, a small, shabby house where Sarah Green vainly strove to make old things look now, and stretch a dollar to the needs of two. Since his uncle's death Jerry had been more moody and shiftless than ever. Brooding over his injuries was not the way to improve his fortunes, and Sally had hard work to make her needle supply the daily wants. It was just three days beforo his undo diedthat Jjrry learned that Hiram Green had left his entire property to Jacob, already tho richest man at ltyc Hill. Tnen the bitterness cf his disap pointment seemed to literally turn his brain, and Sally trembled for his rea son. With all his faults, if faults they were, his disregard of money and want of business capacity, Jerry Green was a man to win strong affections. And it was tho fact that even Hiram Green kept up a sort of grudging affection for him that made Jerry hope he would not entirely forget him iu his will. When bis last illness attacked the old man, it was to Jerry ho turned for the affection Jacob's harder nature could not mako acceptable. It was Jerry and Sally who nursed tho invalid day and night with faithful, unwearied care, and it was with a bitter sense of wrong that Jerry knew himself to be disinherited. Still the man's gentle naturo overruled his anger, and the last threo days of Iliram Green's lifo were ns tenderly nursed as if Jerry knew himself to be his sole heir. But afterward the whole naturo of tho man seemed changed. Knowing tho sympathy of the people about him was with him, he was never weary of telling of his wrongs; and he made no secrot of his delight at tho disappearance of the tin box, and tho large slice of property it contained. A year passed away, and then all ltyo Hili knew that Jerry Green lay ill with a fever, and the doctor had given him up. Very sick indeed he was, and Sally was heart-broken, when one day he whispered a request to see Lawyer Simpkins aloue. Seeing a lawyer seemed to poor Sally a death- warrant, though Jerry had no fortuuo to will away. Wondering, but ready to humor tho whim of a dying man, the lawyer an swered tho summons at once. "Mr. Simpkius, will you promise to keep secret what I tell you now?" Jerry asked iu a hoarse whisper. "Certainly I will; lawyers have to do that every day. "Then I will toll you where Uncle Hiram's tin box is. You bava the key." "Yes, but—Jerry Green, don't tell me you are the thief." "I did not take it away, but I was half mad, Ido believe, and I wanted to spite Jacob. So I buried it under the porch »tep», I nevar opnnud It. Kv»iy thing Is thoro, and J auppoia Juob might it fill km It BOW," LAPORTE, PA., FRIDAY, MAY 9, 1890. "I'll keop your secrot, Jerry, for 1 believe you when you say you wero half mad." Great was the excitement at Rye Hill when it became known that lawyer Simpkins had had a communication from the party who had stolen the tin box, confessing tho theft, and revealing tho hiding place. There was a group of half the people of the village in front of Jacob Green's porch when Jer ry's carpenter's work was torn away, and the earth that covered tho buried treasure romoved. Lawyer Simpkins took a small key from his pocket. ' Stop a moment," he said, as JacoL Green was about to take tho box, "as executor of Iliram Green's estate, 1 must open this box and seo if tho con tents aro all right." There was a sudden catching ol breath audible as tho lid of tho box fell back. On tho top was an open paper, and Lawyer Simpkins road nloul: "I, Hiram Green, do give and bequeath this box and all it contains to Sarah, wift of my nephew, Jeremiah Green. I leave it to her as a token of my love for both, and because I think she will be more care ful of it than my nephew. And Ido ask of my lawyer, Robert Simpkins, that he dc see my wish carried out, and give to Sarab bis advice about investing the money. "HIRAM GREEN." There was one moment of intenso si lence and then a cheer rent tho air. Every man there was glad that the miserly, grasping Jacob Green was dis appointed, aud every man rejoiced fot Jerry and Sally. Isut the sick man was humble ns a child when the lawyer told him the news. He did not die, nor did anyone but Lawyer Simpkins ever guess hil secret, but bo was a broken, premature ly aged man, creeping humbly about and living on the income his wifo drew from tho contents of the tin box, which ho had hidden from spite, and by so doing, overreached himself. "If I had died without telling," he thought often, "Sally would never have had the money, and Jacob might have found the box, after all." Cats and tlie Moon. Everybody knows tho suporstitions of sailors, par:icularly, of course, in re gard to their sailing on Friday; but they are also superstitious on other points, and from this fact we get the saying, "Rats dosert a sinking ship." Again, they resent tho presence of a cat on board, aud usually that of a corpse, although as regard» both of these in stances tho superstition is not suffi ciently widespread to altogether pre vent the occurrence. Speaking of cats, it is well-known that they wero held in such high respect by the ancient Egyp tians that thoir mummies ara mot witb about as frequently as human beings, and this was from a superstitious belief in their intervention in the affairs of men. A special goddess among tho Egyptians was rep resented with the head of a cat, and a temple was erected to her at a town of the name she bore—Bubastis. In tho Egyptian mythology Bubastig was the child Isis and Osiris and the sister ol Horus. What is not so generally known is the fact that tho cat among the Egyptians symbolizod tho moon. As to tho moon thero was in ancient times many superstitions. Our word "lunacy" is derived from tho latin name of that planot, and the disorder is still believed by many to be caused by it at its full. Sailors in the tropic; have been known to becomo temporari ly deranged becauso of sleeping with their facjs exposed to the rays of the full moon, while fresh fish hung up on deck under the same conditions are said to spoil in a short time.— Star -Sayings. Costly Cnninc Collars. "Some dogs in this town wear collars that co it said a dealer in tlioso articles to me yesterday. ''Oi course, such valu ibles aro worn only by the pampere 1 pets of the rich; the average owner of dogs thinks ho or she has done well in investing $3 dollars in a collar, and by a good many a plain leather strap, with name plate, i« deemed ample for safety an 1 identity. Of Course, a dog with a SIOO or a S2OO collar has got to bo watched pretty care fully, and they usually ride in the cjr raige of the master or mistress. Tha existence of a good many Fifth avenuj anil Madi-on avenue dogs might well be envied by the poor of our city. They have nil /.he advantages of w.altj in tho way of luxury and ea-v living, without nny of tin- attendant ansieLie*, from *hiuh even CJoulili and VinUaf- MITI MO Ret frw.— Jfsv Y*rk Star. EAT BEFORE SLEEP. It is the True Way to Obtain Refreshing Slumber. To Sleep on an Empty Stomach Is to Awake Exhausted. Going to bed with a well-filled stomach is the essential prerequisite of refreshing slumber. The cautions so often reiterated in old medical journals against lato suppers were directed chief - ly to tho bibulous habits of those early times. When at every late feast the guests not unseldom drank themselves under the table, or needed strong as sistance to reach their couch, tho canon against such indulgence was not un timely. Nature and common sense teach us that a full stomach is essential to quiet repose. Every man who has found it difficult to keep awako after a hearty dinner has answered the problem for himself. There are few animals that can be trained to rest until after they arc fed. Man, as he carnes into tho world, pro - scnts a condition it would bo well for him to follow in all his after-life. Tho sweetest minstrel ever sent out of para dise cannot sing an infant to slcr;p on an empty stomach. We have known reckless nurses to give tho littlo ones a dose of paregoric or soothing syrup in place of its cup of milk, when it was too much trouble to get tho latter, but this is the one alternative. The little stomach of the sleeping child, as it be comes gradually empty, folds on itself in plaits; two of theso mako it restless; threo will open its eyes, but by careful soothing theso may bo closed again; four plaits and tho charm is broken; there is no more sleep in that house hold until that child has been fed. It seems to us so strange that with this examplo beforo their eyes full-grown men are so slow to learn tho lesson. Tho farmer does it for his pig, who would squeal all night if it were not fed at the last moment, and tho groom knows that his horse will paw in his stall until ho has had his meal. But when he wishes to sleep himself he never seems to think of it. To sloop, the fulness of the blood must leave the head: to digest tho eaten food the blood must come to tho stomach. Thus, sleep and digostion nro natural allies; one helps tho other. Man, by long practice, will train himself to sleep on aa empty stomach, but it is more tho sleep of exhaustion than tho sleep of refreshment, lie wakes up after such a troubled sleep feeling utterly miserable until ho has had a cup of coffee or some other stimulant, and he has so injured tho tono of his stom ach that he has little appetite for break fast. Whereas, one who allows himsolf to sleep after a comfortablo meal awakes strengthened, and his appstito has been rpiickcncd by that preceding indul gence. The difficulty in recovery comes from the fact that we are such creatures of our habits it is impossible to broak away from them without persistent effort. In this case tho man who has eaten nothing after C o'clock and re tires at 10 or 11 takes to bed an empty stomach upon which the action of tho gastric juices makes him • uncomforta ble all the night. If he proposes to try our experiment he will sit down and cat a tolerably hoarty meal, lie is unaccustomed to this at that hour and has a sense of discomfort with it. He may try it once or twico, or oven long er, and then he gives it up, satisfied that for him it is a failure. The true course is to begio with just one or two mouthfuls tho last thing be fore going to bod. And this should bo light food, easily digested. No cake or pastry should be tolerated. One mouthful of cold roast beef, cold lamb, cold chicken, and a little crust of bread •will do to begin with, or, what is bet ter yet, a spoonful or two of condensed milk (not the sweetened that comes in cans) in three times as much warm water. Into this cut half a pared peach and two or threo ltttle squares of bread, tho whole to be one-fourth or one-sixth of what would bo a light lunch. Increase this very gradually, until at the end of a month or six weeks the patient may indulge in a bowl of milk, two peaches, with a half hard roll or a crust of home-made bread. When peaches are gone take baked apples with the milk till strawberries corno, nod eat tho latter till peaches return •gain. This It the lecret of our hoalth M d«iicst« locking uA ttiMvw jrw full * *