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