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<i vlutitpi W« ifu» work until
Terms—sl.2s in Advance; $1.50 after Three Months.
after midnight, but eating the comfort
able meal is the last thing we do every
night of the year. This fs not an un
tried experiment or one depending on
|the testimony of a single witness.—
American, Analyst.
They Split the Difference.
Adjutant-General Mullen was in a
reminiscent mood. "I will tell you a
little experience I had down in Louis
iana in 1862," he said. "I was a mem
ber of tho Connecticut Volunteers. The
opposing armies had come into protty
closo quarters, and Confederate out
pickets, stragglers and skirmishers
were around us and doing considerable
mischief. Three companies of our reg
iment wero ordered out on skirmish
duty. We marched down, five paces
apart, according to regulations, into a
perfect morass. Tho wator was waist
deep everywhere.
"I am not very tall, and found it
necessary to hold up my cartridge belt
to keep it from getting saturated. The
Confederates were scattered through
this swamp, and we to :k u number of
prisoners without opening fire. I mot
with a misfortune. My foot caught bo
ncath a couplo of parallel branches be
neath tho water, and I was securely
pinioned. My companions continued
on their way while I struggled hard to
extricate myself from my uiploasant
predicamen*. I finally pulled my foot
out with a desperate effort, but my shoo
was left behind. I could only secure
it by plunging my head beneath tho
surface of slimy, noxious, muddy
water, but it had to bo done. Iha I
no sooner got the shoe tied on again
than a Confederate cams in sight from
behind some bushos. Intuitively our
muskets were simultaneously raised.
"Surrender!' thundered tho Confed
erate.
"Surrender yourself?' I roturuod at
the top of my lung*.
"Then we stood nnd eyed each other.
Each had his gun cockod and levelled
at tho other, but neither pulled a trig
ger. Why wo hesitated is more than I
can explain. By delaying, you sea,
each was practically placing himself at
tho mercy of tho other, or so it would
seem. Suddenly the Confederate's gun
dropped and I brought iniue down
also.
4 "See here, Yank,' he began, in a
much milder tone, 'if I should shoot
you my side wouldn't gain much; and,
again, if you should shoot me your side
wouldn't gniu much. Now, I've got a
wife and two babies over yonder, aad
if youdroppod mo they wouldn't liavo
nobody to take care of them. Now,
it's a blamad mean man what won't
split tho difference. I'll let you go if
you'll let me go, and we'll call the thing
square. What do you say?'
"Well, what should I say ? I walked
over half way, and we met and shook
hands and parte 1. About a year after
a lettor came to our camp addresicl to
'Little Yankee that split tho d.ffjr—
cnce.' 1 had told him my regiment,
you sec, but not my name. The letter
was a cordial invitation to visit tho man
at his home in Louisiana. He wanted
me too see tho wife and babies whoso
mambers had prompted him to propose
to split the difforcnca, and I have al
ways regretted that I was unable to ac
cept tho invitation."— St. Paiol Pioneer
Pn»s.
Tho Child of the Future.
It is a dreadful point about these
microbes that the only way to avoid
having them in a virulent form is to
have them in an artificial or attenuated
form. The children of the future will
not run through the present gamut of
infantile disease, but they will probab
ly be subjected to inoculation with
various microbes ever/ few months.
First, thoy will bo vaccinated for small
pox; when they have recovered from
that they will bo taken to a Pasteur in
stitute to have a mil l form of rabies.
Next, they will be given a doso of the
comma baccilli to prevent cholera, and
so on throughall the ever-growing series
of disease microbes. 0;i! luckless child
of the futurel you will never be ill and
nover be well; your health will never
be awfully monotonous; you will never
know tho weariness of tho first night of
measles, when it was so nico to lie in
mother's lap and feel her cool hand on
your forehead; you will never know the
joys of convalescence, when oranges
were numerous aad every one was kind
to you because you were not well; and
your end will be to die oi debility.
How gUd we tro that wo lira In th«
pratanl, with ail it* up« aad downs of
hikltk tc l«ad vtritfj to Ufa aad dittU, I
The Voice of the Void.
I warn, like the one drop of rain
On your face, ere the storm;
Or tremble in whispered refrain
With your blood, beating warm.
I am the presence that ever
Baffles your touch's endeavor,—
Gone like the glimmer of dust
Dispersed by a gust.
I am the absence that taunts you,
The fancy that haunts you;
The ever unsatisfied guess
That, questioning emptiness,
Wins a sigh for reply.
Nay; nothing am I,
But the flight of a breath—
For I am Deathl
—George Lathrop in the Century.
HUMOROUS.
Flowor girls—The miller's daughters.
Hailstones intended for publication
arc usually as big as hens* eggs.
When a man knows that ho cannot
get out oftho mud his next impulse is
togo in deeper.
That silence is golden is proved by
the fact that it is sometimes a very cost
ly article to buy.
It was a waggish physician who ad
vised a man afflicted with kleptomania
to take something for it.
Landlady—Will you pass the butter,
Mr. Johnson? Mr. Johnson—That
butter will not pass, madam?
The quantity of paper that jewelers
wrap around their goods strikes most
people as a great was to of tissue.
A sailor is considered a good skipper
when he understands tho ropes. The
samo may be said of a little girl.
An American girl in France who
wanted to save cable tolls, telegraphed
to her father: "Marseilles Tuesday."
Writing poetry is recommended as a
mental exercise. You can get physical
exerciso by attempting to read it to the
editor.
Little drops of water.
Little grains of sand,
Make the grocer's business
The finest in the land.
Foreman—What's all that racket over
there; somebody pied a formi Printer
No, sir. The towel fed on the floor,
that's all.
Photographers aro tho most charita
ble of men, for they are always anxious
to take the best view of their follow
crcaturcs.
Button manufactories cannot bo very
profitable for tho button business is a
thiug that sooner or later is bound to
got into a hole.
Miss Gabble—l liavo had that parrot
for throe months now and ft has nevei
spoken a word. Caller—Perhaps you
have never given it a chance.
Mrs. Hardhead—That's our milk
man's wife. Mr. Hardhead—She's very
becomingly attired. Mri. Hardhead—
How so? Mr. Hardhead—She wears a
watered silk.
Young Wifo—Oh, John, tho rats
liavo eaten all my angel cake! Hua.
band—What! All of it? Young Wife
—Every piece. I feel like crying.
Husband—Oh, pshaw! Don't cry over
a few rats.
"No," remarked Sonosby, enthusi
astically, "there's nothing liko tho hoi
water euro! It will braco a man up
when all other remedies fail—er—Mrs.
Slimdiet, just let mo have a cup of tea,
is you please?"
Student (writing to his father): ]
beg you, my dear father, not for i
minute to think that I need this money
to pay debts with. I givo you my
word of honor that I want It only foi
myself, and that there if no question of
debts.
Teacher (promenading with his pupil
in tho field) —"Nature's works nr«
marvelous," oxclaimed the pupil.
"Yos, indeed," tho teacher replicsi
"when you como to think, for an ex
ample, that tho humblest insect has its
Latin name."
Homely Women of PortogAl,
The Portuguese ram are rather be
low tho medium height, of olivo com
plex;on and liavo brilliant black eyes.
For tho most part they are vory hand
some. The women, on the contrary,
are excessively homely, but dress in
very good tasto. Both gentlemon and
ladies copy the Parisian fashions. Thi
prettiest women are tho fisher maids,
who go about the street* barefooted
with their baskets of fish on their heads,
after tho fashion of tho Egyptian women
with their pitchers of watqe. Some ol
tl:e?e girli are remarkably pretty, and,
Ittange to »ay, thair f»tt qfnoll MH>
d«iicst« locking uA ttiMvw jrw
full * *