SULLIVAN REPUBLICAN. W. M. CHENEY, Publisher. VOL. VIII. TheGood and the lIL Speak a.ba4 Word and it ecnoes forever UpWJIM ana downward the length or the -win jwsr " Speak eutood .word and its music will never Wafldfer awayirom the place or its birth. Write a bad sentence and nothing can han uh The freshness of words we would gladly nnao; Write a good thbugbt and in air it will van ish; The good we must ever and always renew. ALICE'S FORTUNE. BY HORATIO ALGER, JR. "Bister Theodosia," said a feeble voice from the bed. The Sister of Charity, a mild-faced woman of middle age, .apswerod the summons of the dying man, and ap proached the bedside. The dying man was Hector Moritz, a carpenter, who had fallen from a house which ho was building, a few days be fore, and so injurod himself that he could not recover. He lived jujrf. out side the village of B'. 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 collco and cook an omelet as skilfully as if she wore twice as old, and had acted as her father's little housekeeper. So it happened that, being alono, an unusual affection had sprung up between Alice and her father. The Sister of Charity approached the bedside. The sick 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 fnough not to betray her emotion lest it should distress her father in his last moments. "What can I do for you, M. Moritz?" askoi Sister Theodosia, 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 tlio sister, striv ing to interpret hii broken words. "Already provided for—money thero," and he pointed vaguely down wards. •'Poor man! He is wandering in mind," thought Iho sislcr, —for ho was pointing to the floor; but she thought it best to appear to have understood him. "Yes," she said gently, "havo no anxiety." He looked at her wist'ully, and then, soeming to think ho was un derstood, he fell back upon the pillow from which ho had lifted his head, and a moment after expired. When Alice realized that hor father was really dead, she gavo way to exces sive grief—so excessivj tint it soon wore itself out, loaving her pala and sorrowful. Sister Theodosia took her into her lap, and prossod her hcod against hor bosom in sad compassion, for littlo Alice was now without father or mother. In duo time Hector Moritz was bur ied, and the next tiling to be complet ed was, how should Alice be disposed of? Hector Moritz loft two near relatives, both One of these was a thriv ing tradesman in the next town, a man who had prospered, partly through his selfishness, which was excessivo. The 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 the children for whom he could do so little, and pop. ular in the village. These two cousins met at the funeral of Hector Moritz. "I suppose Hector died poor," said M. Ponchard, the tradsman, a littlo un easily. "This house is all he owne 1, so far as I know," said the notary, "and it is mortgaged for nearly its value." "Humph! that is bad for the child," said M. Ponchard. "1 suppose you will take her home, M. Ponchard?" said the notary bluntly. '■We all know that you are a prosperous man." The tradesman drow back. "If lam prosperou'," 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 peoplo' 8 children." "Then you won't do anything for the child?" "I didn't »«y that. I'll e iv« br.r t*t«»7«flvs-»nay, lifif fr«n«j, Thai's •01 I »g|U< is d«<" "And how long will fifty francs sup port her!" said the notary disdainfully, tho meanness of the rich Aradeiman. "That is not my affair. She need not starve. She can goto the alms house. M "Who speaks of tho 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 home to offer her," said the poor cousin warmly. "But, 51. Corbet," said tho notary "you are poor. Can you afford, with your many cb'Mien, to undertake an additional bur<J-»,«?" "I never look on them a? burdens— they are my joy and comfort," said M. Corbet. "I can't give Alice a luxuri ous home, but such as I have she 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 fooll" thought 51. Ponchard contemptuously. "Ho will always be miserably poor." But tho notary grasped his hand, and said, "5l. 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 briug much over. What little there should be would goto Alice. Several months passed without any opportunity to sell the cottage. Dur ing that time Alice remained at tho house of 51. Corbet, treated, 1 was about to say, like one of the furnily. 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, 51. Corbet fell sick, and haviug al ways been compelled to live to tho limit of his small income, had nothing saved up for the r.iiny day which had come upon him, and so tho family wore soon in a bad strait. '1 he notary hcarJ of it and was stirred with compassion. "If only Alice hai something," he said to Sister Theodosia, whom he met ono day at a sick bed; for tho good Sister of Charity spent her time in lending the sick without compensation, "if only Alice had some small property alio might come to tho relief of her poor relation." "And has she not?" askoa Sister Theodosia. "Nothing that I know of beyond the house, and upon that thero is a mort gage to nearly its full valuo." "But her father upon his doath-bod told mo that she was provided for." "Did he, indeo I?" askud tho notary, surprised. "Did he say anthing more?" "No, ho was unable to; but he pointed to the floor. I am afraid he was out of his head, and incaut noth ing." "Stop! I have an idoa," 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 they went to tho cottage, which chanced to bo close by. "Now," said the notary, when they were once inside, "to what part of tho floor did 51. 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 hatchot, and succeeded after a time in raising a plank of the floor, Sister Theodosia looking on, moauwhile, with surprise. But her surprise was increased when on the plank being raised, a box was discovered underneath. "Help mo lift if," said the notary. With the aid of the hatchet, ho re moved the cover of the box, and the two uttered an exclamation of surpriso when underneath they found a large collection of gold coius. On the top was placed a sheet of note paper, on which were written those words, in the handwriting of the deceased: "The gold in this box represents the sav ing* of many year". Jt is for my daughter, AI if**. Kor l)"r s«l»» 1 li«v« llvn.l frugally, and lit may *«v« l>ur from wmit when > I »» ICQII Hjttfl* UOBIT*" LAPORTE, PA., FRIDAY, MAY 16, 1890. "How much ia theioi" asked Sit to I Theodosia. "There «re two hundred and flftj Napoleons. Those make five thousand frac.cs. Truly, M. Moritz muit havi been frugal to save so much." "Then little Alice is an heiress," said Sister Theodosia. "It is as you say." "I am very glad. Now slic can pav her board to M. Corbet, and ho will lose nothing by his kindness." "I will go tonight and tell him." The poor shoemaker was still sick, and his money had wholly given out, so that the family had had no supper. "I am sorry you are sick, my friend," said the notary. "Yes," toid the poor shoemaker, sighing; "it is unfortunate." "31. Corbet, you are a good man,and truly charitable. But I have good news for you.'' "Good news? Well, it could never come at a hotter time." "You thought Alico was poor." "And 9he is not?" "On the contrary, she is an heiress." '•What do you mean?" "Her father left five thousand francs for her fortune." "Is that truj?" asked the 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." "Seventeen weeks. Now, as her father's executor, lam going to allow ynu eight francs a week, and you shall undertake to provide her with a homo and clothing. For seventeen weeks, then, that sho has been hero 1 owe you one hundred and twenty-six francs. I pay it to you at once." "But it is too much," said M.Corbet, surveying the gold with stupefaction, for he had never seen as much beforo. "It is right." "We arc saved!" said his wife, thankfully. "I will go out aud buy somo bread. Children, you shall havo some supper." At this there was a 3hout of joy from the children, aud tears of gratitjdo flowed dowu tho chocks of tho poor shoemaker, who pointed to Alice, and said:— "She has brought mo good fortune." Before tho money was half expended, tho fchoemaker had rccovorod, and went to work again. The eight francs a week lie received for Alice proved a gceat help to him, and enabled him to procure more comforts than before. Prom that time M. Corbet prosperol, ami was evon able to save up mouoy, and all through his unselfish kindnoss to little Alice, through whom ho be lieves good fortune has como to him and his.— Yankee Uhde. Confidence In the Old Horse. The little son of General Crittenden was devoted 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 mado during tho war, but at a certain poiut said, "Fathor, wcro you on John J. ?" Be ing answered affirmatively, tho young ster slid dowu from tho paternal knoc, aud was toddling off as fast as his littlo 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 tho foe with Cus ter and his men on the Littlo Big Horn. —Harper's Magazine. Freezing Process in Tunnelling. The freezing process is being effect ively used in tho cutting of the St. Clair tuunol under the Detroit River. Whenever water ie met with the freez ing mixture is proj ctcd by pipes, and the water and friable debris become solidified, anl tho work cun be 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 the hard blue clay, by digging out the centre with picks, and then pushing them forward eighteen inches at a time by hydraulic rams. And Not Half Try. Alonzo—Oh, Bessie, I wish I had ability enough to mako something of myself. Hobby—Papa lays y o u havo for ma*- * tool *»f yt»Ulnulf; —>■ H-jtuWta*. LADIES' DEPARTMENT. ROYAL LADIES. Queen Marguerite, of Italy, is not fair, but (tie is fat and forty. Aa a rule, to which t lie re are few exception*, the royal families are not models of physical beauty. The Count de Paris looks like an amiable green grocer, Quean Victoria like a prosperous middle class woman, the Prince of Wales like a good- natured bonvivant. The Queen of Italy affecta 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 declined with thanks. — N Y. Telegram. NEW IDEA IN JEWELRY. A now fashion in all sorts of jcweliy is to giro tho 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 tho concealed pin pierces the stuff. Tho effoct is that of the entire diamond shaped blade passing through the gown. Diamond hair pins are con structed on the same principle instead of having all the ornanisnts 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 tha men three or four to ouo, the men being killed off in tho wars and forays that are constantly be ing made by ono tribe on anothor, and by Arab slave-traders on all. The women are almost invariably slaves. Usually thore arc 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 universal. A BONNET PROVIDED FOR. y\ hen little Julia llonore Grant is led to tho 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 pny to soldiers in the Mexican War. Notice 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 receipt of iior letter General Sherman wrote to Colonel Fred Grant, suggesting that tho money be collectod and resorved to bfiy a wjdding bonnot for "your little daughter Julia." An application was sent to the United States Pension Agent and the eighty odd dollars of bock pay collected. A special investment, drawing 6 per cent., was found for tho amount, and princi pal and interest made payable to tho order of Julia llonore Grant. The lit tle girl is not yet in her teens, but by the timo the wedding bells chime her marriage there will be a fund of $l2B to her credit for a bridal bonnet. WOMEN 8 QUEEII WATS. The ways of women are queer. A woman can faint away at tha 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 be nervous for twenty four hours after, yet 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 tell 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 saying: "Come as soon as possible; your mother is sick." —New York Sun. TRUE WOMANLINESS. •«I was much struck by n little inci dent that occurred last year," says an English wrliar, "I, Among other*, be- IvNglDf It a largi party wm w«r« w»U. Terms—sl.2s in Advance; $1.50 after Three Months. lug at a railway itation for the train that waa to carry us down to a garden party at one of the many lovely places on the Thames, saw an old man, a decrepit creature, bowed and palsied, making 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 our party broke into an irresistible laugh. They were not so much to be blamed. Youth will see 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 parcels sho lifted them ono by one aud laid them in his arms. She was not a strictly pretty girl, but there was dignity and sweetness both in her face 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 matches of the London season. Supremo admiration showed itself in his face. Ho demanded an introduction. I gave it. In six montha they wore man and wife. Sho made n good match, and so did he in every Bense of the word."— La the > llome Journal. A BECOMING VEIL. The voil has always been au 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 red, the strip of illu sion becomes more than ever a neces sity. A veil is a coquetry to a pretty girl, a charity to au ugly ono. AU 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 tlie oyes give them a wandering look which is anything but piquant. One's eyes should show plainly through a veil, the duty of which may be 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 plaiD, very fine tullo, either Tn black, brown, dark scarlet or a shade that is between a gray and a green. If you want a "teaming black veil, how ever, do not take a plain one, as it will mako you look older and briDg 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 is supposed to hold a bang in place. And do keep the edges trimmed, for when they aro ragged or frayed they can mako you look horribly untidy.— N. Y. Hun. FASniON NOTES. Silver link belts and polonaiso dress ess go together. Numerous oddly tied knots are a foa turo of new black cord passementerios. Grelot fringes of metal-covered balls and pear-shaped drops are fashionable for trimming Spanish jackets and hats. Black lace collarettes fastened with a knot of green grass 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 suinmo r gowns. Some of the now Spanish laces for trimming grenadine or silk dresses are made with vandykod edges and finshed with fringe. To wear over colored dresses are Spanish jackets of black silk cord passe menterie without beads, and also jack ets of flat braid. Among the new 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 dressea are made with loops of jet on each edge, with a straight line of color through the middle, usually pink, gr««n or red ailk. A novel garniture to border summer bcngalinei, 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 I# vine ot flows* Ittiurot witk frtltt Him, NO. 31. The Strength of the Hills Is His. The Strength of the Hills, inexorable power! What might more stern 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 slernnoss 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 mountain! where Noiseless the cloud-drifts above them part. Raining 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.— 0 Friend. a Father reigns above, The strength of the bills is rest, is love. —Jessie F. O'Donnell , in /fonscteij'e. HUMOROUS. Railroad corporations are reticent— they keep their own counsel. Teacher—Which teeth does .nan get last? Johnny Kuowitall—Ths false ones, of courje. "You make mo tired," said the wheel to the wheelwright, as he unflinchingly hammered away. A tableware trust is to bo formed. Trust tho servant girl to break it—the tableware, we mean. Sometimes the office seeks the man, but generally tho man knows when the office is on his track. Do not regard with suspicion the man who adopts au alias. It is a proper ambition in any one to desire to make a name for himself. Sumway (with newspaper in hi« hand) —Hero art- some paragraphs head ed ''Police Intelligence." Gazzain—l didn't know they had any. Minister (to convict) —My good man, I'm very sorry to find you here in prison. Convict IIII—Yes, sir; but you ain't half so sorry as I 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 taßtcs are really becoming quite too expensive, my child. Remember that fine feathers do not always make fine birds. Maud—No, mamma; but you'll admit they make j tine bonnets. "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 I get this money, I'll havo goro from a beat." Michigan produces a larger number of shingles than any other stato in the Union. In spite of this fact it is very doubtful if the small boy of Michigan is any more 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 U9 that there are some dogs with more sense than their masters can boast ofi" "Certainly; I have ene." A Policeman's Life. Thcro is au opinion very commonly held that the members of the police forco have, as the saying is, a "regular picnic.'' To my mind nothing could be further from the truth. To thoee who ate thoroughly acquainted with the duties and tho life 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 avenue "dummy" train the other day, when I saw one member of the forco wbose lot, at least, was not enviablo. He looked liko a new re. emit, too, but he bore himself like • hero. He certainly possessed some of the spirit which enabled the earl martyrs to face the rack and the wild beasts of the Colosseum witb 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, whileonthe other arm he carriod an infant bundled up in rags- The mother was singing, the baby was crying and a crowd of ur chin* at tha officer's h«»ls ware hooting aqtf laughing. Hal* aerry fer the pan* ftimw,— frnkW* fo<w»
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