SULLIVAN REPUBLICAN. W. M. CHENEY, Publisher. VOL. VIII. TheGood and the 111. Sneak a,b«£ Word and it ecnoes forever Upwvra ana downward tbe length of the -wn;is» - v> Speak MNod word and its music will never Wan Mr awaytrom tbe place of its birth. Writ* a bad sentence and nothing can ban lib The freshness of words we would gladly nnao; Write a good thbught and in air it will van ish; The good we must ever and always renew. ALICE'S FORTUNE. BY HORATIO AJ.GER, JR. "Bister Theodosia," said a feeble voice from tho bed. The Sister of Charity, a mild-faced woman of middle age, .answered tho summons of the dying mun, and ap proached the bedside. Tho dying man was Hector Moritz, a carpenter, who had fallen from a house which he was building, a few days be fore, and so injurod himself that, he could not recover. He lived jujd. out side tho village of St. Barbo, with his little girl, Alice, now seven years old. Hi* wife had died three years before, but Alice, child as she was, could make coffeo and cook an omelet as skilfully as if she were twice as old, and had acted as her father's little housekeeper. So it happened that, being alone, an unusual affection had sprung up between Alice and her father. The Sister of Charity approached the bedside. The tick man's face expressed anxiety, and his oye turned from the nurse to his little girl, who was pale and grief-stricken, yet had self-control enough not to betray her emotion lest it should distress her father in his last moments. "What can I do for you, M. Moritz?" asked Sister Thoodosia, in a gentle voice. His glanco wandered to his little girl once more. "Alice," he gasped, "provided for." "Do you mean that you wish Alice provided for?" asked tho sister, striv ing to interpret his broken words. "Already provided for— money thero," and he pointed vaguely down wards. "Poor man! Ho is wandering in mind," thought iho sister, —for ho was pointing to the floor; but she thought it best to appear to havo understood him. •'Yes," she said gently, "have no anxiety." He looked at her wist'ully, and then, soeming to think he was un derstood, he fell back upon tho pillow from which he had liftod his head, and a moment after expired. When Alice realized that her father was really dead, she gavo way to exces sive grief—so excessivj tint it soon wore itself out, leaving her palo and sorrowful. Sister Theodosia took her into her lap, and pressed her head against hor bosom in sad compassion, for little Alice was now without father or mother. In duo time Hector Moritz was bur ied, and the next thing to be complet ed was, how should Alice be disposed of? Hector Moritz left two near relatives, both cousini Ono of these was a thriv ing tradesman in tho next town, a man who had prospered, partly through his telfishncss, which was excessive. Tho other, also residing in the next town, was a poor shoemaker with a large fam ily, who found it hard enough to make both ends meet; out was, withal, kind and cheerful, beloved by tho children for whom he could do so little, and pop. ular in the village. These two cousins met at tho funeral of Hector Moritz. "I suppose Hector died poor," said M. Ponchard, the tradsman, a little un easily. "This house is all he ownel, so far as I know," said the notary, "and it is mortgaged for nearly its value." "Humph! that is bad for tho child," said M. Ponchard. "I suppose you will take her home, M. Ponchard?" said the notary bluntly. '•We all know that you are a prosperous man." The tradesmau drew back. "If lam prosperous" he said, "I have had to work for my money. It is all I can do to provide for my own fam ily. I can't support other people' 8 children." "Then you won't do anything for the child?" ••I didn't say that. I'll gi*« h«-. r twtttj'flvs~»nay, liUj frisnei, Thai'# »U 2 »M|bt ♦» <Ui" "And how long will fifty francs sup port hert" said the notarj disdainfully, '? tho meanness of the rich ftradeiman. "That is not my affair. She need not starve. She can goto tho alms house. v "Who speaks of the almshouse?" spoke up M. Corbet, the poor shoe maker. "M. Ponchard suggests that Alice go to the almshouse," said the notary. •'Not while I have a homo to oiler her," said the poor cousin warmly. "But, M. Corbet," said the notary "you aro poor. Can you afford, with your many cb : M'en, to undortake an additional bur<J-«t?" "I never look on them as burdens— they are my joy and comfort," said M. Corbet. "rcan't give Alice a luxuri ous home, but such as I have sho is wel come to. lam sure the good God will not let me starve, if 1 undertake the care of my little orphan cou<in." "He's a fool!" thought M. Ponchard contemptuously. "Ho will always be miserably poor." But the notary grasped his hand, and said,—"M. Corbet, I respect you. If you are not rich in money, you are rich in a good heart, and that is the best kinrt of riches." So, ,o opposition being made, littlo Alice went home with the poor shoe maker. As for the cottage, that was left in the hands of tho notary to sell. As already intimated, thero was a mort gage upon it to nearly its full value, so that it was not likoly to bring much over. What littlo tliero should be would goto Alice. Several months passed without any opportunity to sell tho cottage. Dur ing that time Alice remained at tho house of M. Corbet, treated, 1 was about to say, like one of the fumily. This, however, would not be strictly correct. She was not treated like one of tho family, but bettor than one of the family; in short, like a favored guest, for whom nothing was too good. But unfortunately at this juncture, M. Corbet fell sick, and having al ways been compelled to live to tho limit of his small income, had nothing saved up for the rainy day which had come upon him, and so tho family wcro soon in a bad strait. The notary heard of it and was stirred with compassion. "If only Alice ha l something," he said to Sister Theodosia, whom he mot ono day at a sick bed; for tho good Sister of Charity spent her time in tending tho sick without compensation, "if only Alice had some small property she might como to tho reliof of her poor relation." "And has sho not?'' askoa Sistor Theodosia. "Nothing that I know of beyond tho house, nud upon that thero is a mort gage to nearly its full valuo." "But her father upon his death-bod told mo that she was provided for." "Did he, indco I?" askod tho notary, surprised. "Did lie say anthing more?" •'No, ho was uunble to; but he pointed to the floor. I am afraid he was out of his head, and meant noth ing." "Stop! I havo an idea," said the notary suddenly. "Can you leave for a few minutes, and go with me to the cottage?" "Yes, I can bo spared fo naif an hour," said Sister Theodosia. Together tlicy went to tho cottage, which chanced to bo close by. "Now," said tho notary, when they were onco inside, "to what part of the floor did M. Moritz point? Can you remember?" "There," said the sister. 'Very well; wo will soon see whether there is anything in my idea. The notary procured a hatchet, and succeeded after a timo in raising a plank of the floor, Sister Theodosia looking on, meanwhile, with surprise. But her surprise was increased when on the plank being raised, a box was discovered underneath. "Help me lift it," said the notary. With the aid of tho hatchet, he re moved the cover of the box, and the two uttered an exclamation of surprise when underneath they found a large collection of gold coins. On the top was placed a sheet of note paper, on which were written these words, in the handwriting of the deceased : "The gold in this box represents tbe sav ing* of many yror«, Jt i; for my daughter, Alice. for i)«r sak« t b«v« llvmt frugally, •ml 1 bop. IV may *»>'■ liar from want when I MB iooii Hhiqr Mpaiflt" LAPORTE, PA., FRIDAY, MAY 16, 1890. "How much is there!" asked Bistol Theodosia. "There -are two hundred and fiftj Napoleons. These make five thousand frac.cs. Truly, M. Moritz must havi been frugal to save so much." "Then littlo Alice is an heiress," said Sistor Theodosia. "It is as you say." "I am very glad. Now she can her board to M Corbet, and he will lose nothing by his kindness." "I will go tonight and tell him." Tho poor shoemaker was still sick, and his money had wholly given out, so that the family had had no supper. "I nm sorry you are sick, my friend," said the notary. "Yes," raid the poor shoemoker, sighing; "it is unfortunate." "M. Corbet, you arc a good man, and truly charitablo. But I havo good news for you." "Good nows? Well, it could never come at a better time." "You thought Alico was poor." "And she is not?" "On the contrary, sho is an heiress." "What do you mean?" "Her father left five thousand francs for her fortune." "Is that tru'i?" asked tho shoemaker and his wife, bewildered. '•Yes; and therefore it is only fitting that she should pay her board. How long has she been here?" "Four months." "Soventcen weeks. Now, as her father's executor, lam going to allow you eight francs a week, and you shall undertake to provide her with a homo and clothing. For sevontecu weeks, then, that sho has been hero 1 owe you one hundred and twenty-six francs. 1 pay it to you at once." "But it is too much," said M.Corbet, surveying tho gold with stupefactiou, for he had never seen as much before. "It is right." "Wo are saved!" said his wife, thankfully. "I will go out nud buy some bread. Children, you shall havo some supper." At this there was a shout of joy from the childrcu, aud tears of gratitude flowed down the chocks of the poor shoemaker, who pointed to Alice, and said:— "She has brought me good fortune." Before tho money was half expended, the shoemaker had recovered, and went to work again. The eight francs a week he received for Alico proved a geeat help to him, and enabled him to procuro more comforts than before. Prom that time M. Corbet prosperoi, and was ovon able to save up money, and all through his unselfish kindness to little Alico, through whom ho be lieves good fortuno has como to him and his. Ya/iiet BUde. Confidence in the Old Horse. The little son of General Crittenden was dovoted to his father's war-horse, that was named for the illustrious John J. Crittenden, of Kentucky, the child's grandfather. He asked his father to tell him of a retreat ho made during tho war, but at a certain point said, "Fathor, were you on John J.?" Be ing answered aflirmativoly, tho young ster slid down from tho paternal knee, aud was toddling off as fast as his little legs could carry him, when his father, said: "Where aro you going, my son?" "Father," he said, turning and show ing a face full of reproach, "John J. never would havo retreated if you hadn't turned him 'round." This same boy grew to manhood, and died with his faco to the foe with Cus ter and his men on the Littlo Big Horn. —Harper"a Magazine. Freezing Process in Tunnelling. Tho freezing process is being effect ively used in tho cutting of the St. Clair tunnel undor the Detroit River. Whenever water is met with the freez ing mixture is proj :ctcd by pipes, and the water and friable debris become solidified, atil tho work can ba pro ceeded with. The tunnelling is pro gressing at the. rate of seven feet per day at each end. The shields are being used, in thi hard blue clay, by digging out the centro with pi<ks, and then pushing them forward eighteen iuches at a time by hydraulic rams. And Not Half Try. Alonzo—Oh, Bessie, I wish I had ability enough to mako something of myself. Bobby—Papa aay» yoll havo for ma'.<- itlif •• tool uf JfuUNiil'i — LADIES' DEPARTMENT, « ROYAL LADIES. Queen Marguerite, of Italy, is not fair, but sfie is fat and forty. As a rule, to which there are few exceptions, the royal families are not models of physical beauty. The Count de Paris looks like an amiable green grooer, Queen Victoria like a prosperous middle class woman, the Prince of Wales like a good- natured bonvivant. The Queen of Italy affects literary tastes, but her success as an amateur author has not been very brilliant, for tho story goes that having written a story, she sent it to one of the Italian journals, under an assumed name, and that it was declinod with thanks. — N Y. Telegram. NEW IDEA IN JEWELRY. A now fashion in all sorts of joweliy is to givo the effect of a pin passing through the material. This is done by a concealed hingo and pin. For exam ple, a chatelaine on which is suspend ed a vinaigrette has a diamond sword as a belt pin. Tho diamonds are found In the hilt and in the end of the pin, and the concealed pin pierces the stuff. Tho effect is that of the entire diamond shaped blade passing through the gown. Diamond hair pins aro con structed on the same principle instead of having all the ornamonts lavished on the top. The effect is one of care less oppulence and is exceedingly pretty. WHERE WOMEN ARE ALL SLAVES. Throughout Central Africa the wom en outnumber tho men three or four to ouc, the men being killed off in tho wars and forays that are constantly be ing made by one tribe on anothor, and by Arab slave-traders on all. The women aro almost invariably slavos. Usually thore are not more than three or four free women in a village. Tho price of women is less than the price of pigs or goats. There was, until re cently, one district ruled by a woman, and there that sox was supreme. With in the last fow years, however, that tribe was exterminated, and now the degrodatiun of woman all over Central Africa is univcrsnl. A BONNET PROVIDED FOR. When little Julia Honore Grant is led to the altar she will wear a bridal bon net with a history to it. Not long after the death of her grandfather a bill was passed granting full pay to soldiers in the Mexican War. Notico to that effect was sent to General Grant's widow, who refused to putin a claim for the few dollars the Government owed her hus band. On raceipt of hor letter General Sherman wrote to Colonel Fred Grant, suggesting that tho money be collected and reserved to btiy a wadding bonnot for "your little daughter Julia." An application was sent to the United States Pension Agent and the eighty odd dollars of back pay collected. A special investment, drawing 6 per cent., was found for the amount, and princi pal and interest made payablo to the order of Julia llonore Grant. Tho lit tle girl is not yet m her teens, but by the time the wedding bells chime her marriage there will be a fund of $l2B to her credit for a bridal bonnet. WOMEN* 8 QUEER WAYS. The ways of women are queer. A woman can faint away at the sight of a bit of blood on her finger, have all the children in the house screaming with fright, require eau de cologne to bring her to and ba nervous for twenty four hours after, yct the same woman can, in perfect silence, stand by and help a doctor perform an operation that may mean death to some one she loves. A woman can scorn what she calls made-over clothes, can laugh at indis criminate charity, and yet the samo woman can cry as if her heart would break and take all her spending money to buy an overcoat for a newsboy she met in tho street cars because his face was so pitiful. She can take two hours and a half to dress togo the theatre, and then teli Charley she knows she looks like a dowdy, but the same woman can pack a trunk with things enough to last her for two weeks in twenty minutes when she gets a telegram saving: "Come as soon as possible; your mother is sick." —York Sun. TRUE WOMANLINESS. "I waa much si ruck by a little inci dent that occurred last year," says an English writer, "I, among others, lie. : 'uftfluf a largi party wm w«r« wsit« i Terms—sl.2s in Advance; $1.50 after Three Months, lag at • railway station for the train that was to carry us down to a garden party at one of the many lovely places on tho Thames, saw an old man, • decrepit creature, bowed and palsied, malting his way to where the third-class com partment would be. His arms were full of bundles of various sizes. Coming near a truck, the old man, who was half blind, marched against the edge of it, and all his little bundles fell helplessly to the ground. Most of the young people belonging to ourparty broke into an irresistible laugh. They were not so much to be blamed. Youth will sea amusement in even trifles, but there was one among us who did not laugh. The old man's chagrin seemed to touch her. She went quickly forward, and as he groped nervously for his purcelssho lifted them ono by one and laid them in his arms. She was not a strictly pretty girl, but there was dignity and sweetness both in her faco and in her action. I no ticed that a young man, ono of our party, watched her intently. He was rich, titled, one of the matchos of the London season. Supremo admiration showed itself in his face. Ho demanded an introduction. I gavo it. In six months thoy were man and wife. Sho made a good match, and so did he in every sense of the word."— Laditt' llomt Journal. A BECOMING VEIL. The veil has always been an impor tant adjunct to the toilet of a woman, and just now, when lovely woman stoops to folly and looks upon tho rouge when it is rod, the strip of illu sion becomes moro than ever a neces sity. A veil is a coquetry to a pretty girl, a charity to au ugly one. All the fashion writers to tho contrary, tho veils with big spots on are not fashion able. In the first place, they aro not becoming, for the huge black spots make you look utterly without a com plexion, and because of their closeness to the eyes give them a wandering look which is anything but piquant. One's eyes should aliow plainly through a veil, the duty of which may bo to tono down the complexion, but is never to do anything but intensify tho bright ness of the eyes. Tho preferred veil is a strip of plain, very tine tulle, cither Tn black, brown, dark scarlot or a shade that is between- a gray and a groen. If you want a "beaming black veil, how ever, do not take a plain one, as it will make you look older and bring out | every wrinkle, but choose instead one with tiny dots that aro far apart. Wear your veil below your noso and not in such a way that it it supposed to hold a bang in place. And do keep tho edges trimmed, for when they aro ragged or frayed thoy can mako you look horribly untidy.— N. Y. Hun. FASHION NOTES. Silver link belts and polonaise dross ess go together. Numerous oddly tied knots are a fea ture of new black cord passe men terios. Grelot fringes of metal-covered balls and pear-shaped drops aro fashionable for trimming Spanish jackets and hats. Btack lace collarettes fastened with a knot of groen glass will suggest a sty lish combination for alpaca, glorioso or silk. Ribbons have not lost in popularity, but are spoken of wi '1 as great confi dence as ever as garniture for summe r gowns. Some of the now Spanish laces for trimming grenadine or silk dresses are made with vandykci edges and finshed with fringe. To wear over colored drosses are Spanish jackets of black silk cord passe menterie without beads, and also jack ets ot flat braid. Among the now trimmings for mourn, ing toilets are passementeries made of crape bands, also wide crocheted points of black silk, and narrow ones for edg ings. Pretty narrow gimps for trimming dresses are made with loops of jet on each edge, with a straight line of color through the middle, usually pink, grean or red silk. A novel garniture to border summer bcngalines, surahs and cashmeres is white embroidery, like open-netted lace, inserted in the midst of colored embroidery. Shoulder decorations, which are deep enough to be worn as capes, are made of jet, or of black silk cords intermixed with silver or gold la vine or Hn«o* I»t|«ro| Willi #Mlt» «4g«i. NO. 31. The Strength of the Hills Is Hts. the Strength of the Hills, inexorable power! What might more stem than their granite breasts ? Sky-ward in their pride the mountains tower, Tossing pine-plumes on their stately crests. Gray cliffs gleam out from the chasms where Sudden the hill-tops were wrenched apart, Leaving the rock in its sternness bare, Strong and silent, the mountain's heart, Above their purple grandeur. lie Whose strength is theirs, unbounded free, Sits in resistless majesty.— Dear heart! Thy grief Jehovah wills, His is the awful strength of hills. The Strength of the Hills, beneficent power! Cradling the light on their tender breasts, Gently as mother-germs cradle the flower, Softly as dew on the violet rests. Rose-lights transfigure the mountains where Noiseless the cloud-drifts above them part, liaining the sun on their foreheads bare, Light and love to the mountain's heart! Throughout their blossomed beauty, He Whose strength is theirs, protecting, free, Whispers his boundless sympathy.— O Fricnu, a Father reigns above, The strength of the hills is rest, is love. —Jettie F. o'Donnelly in Housewife. HUMOROUS. Railroad corporations are reticent— (ley keep their own counsel. Teacher—Which teeth does jaan get last? Johnny Kuowitall—The false ones, of court e. "You 3iake mo tired," said the wheel to the wheelwright, as ho unflinchingly hammered away. A tableware trust is to bo formed. Trust tho servant girl to break it—the tableware, we mean. Sometimes tho office seeks the man, but generally the man knows when the offico is on his track. Do not regard -with suspicion the man who adopts an alias. It is a proper ambition in any ono to desiro to make a name for himself. Sumway (with newspaper in his hand) —Hero are some paragraphs head ed "Police Intelligence." Gazzain—l didn't know thoy had any. Minister (to convict) —My good man, I'm very sorry to find you here in prison. Convict 1111—Yes, sir; but you ain't half so sorry as 1 am. I'm sure there's little I would give for The man who from his cares would fly. For When you have nothing left to live for, You still have something less to die for. Mamma to Maud—Your tastes are really becoming quite too expensive, my child. Remember that fine feathers do not always muko fine birds. Maud—No, mamma; but you'll admit they make lino bonnots. "No use," said an impecunious debt or to an importunate creditor, "you can't got blood out of a turnip" "I know that," responded the creditor, "but unless 1 got this money, I'll have goro from a beat." Michigan produces a larger number of shingles than any other state in the Union. In spite of this fact it is very doubtful if the small boy of Michigan is any moro obedient than the small boy in any other state. The intelligence of animals became one of tho subjects of discussion at a little dinner party. An enthusiastic advocate of tho dog was asked: "Do you mean to tell us that there are some dogs with more sense than their masters can boast of?" "Certainly; I have *ae." A Policeman's Life. There is an opinion very commonly held thnt tho members of the police force have, as the saying is, a "regular picnic." To my mind nothing could be further from tho truth. To those who are thoroughly acquainted with the duties and the lifo of a policeman it is perfectly plain that those public servants earn every dollar they receive from tho city treasury. I was riding on a Third avenuo "dummy" train the other day, whon I saw one member of the forco whose lot, at least, was not enviablo. Ho looked liko a new re. cruit, too, but ho boro himself like a hero. He certainly possessed some of the spirit which enabled the ear) martyrs to face the rack and the wild beasts of tho Colosseum with a smile. It was, if I remember rightly, at Fifty sixth street or thereabouts. The officer was with one arm supporting and lead ing an intoxicated woman, while on the other arm he carriod an infant bundled up in rags- The mother was singiig, the baby was crying and a crowd of ur chin* at tho ofHc.r's bawls Worn hooting and laughing. if«U sorry ter the peat fiiivw— ifmtil** Wim
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