SULLIVAN REPUBLICAN.
W. M. CHENEY, Publisher.
VOL. VIII.
The Song.
The poet gang of War, that mighty king
Whoso crown is flame, whose oath is thun
dering,
Whose sceptre pteel. The p.xan shrilled
unheard
Of fiery souls by battle-fury stirred;
And screaming shells out-sang his minstrel
ing.
Again he sang the glories Gold can bring;
Ort-voiced him now the coins' metallic ring;
And, mad for gain, men heeded not a word
The poet sang.
Then softly to his own heart did he sing;
And trembling-sweet a song of Love took
wing,
As tender as the call of mating bird:
The smoke-grimed soldier in the trenches
heard,
The flushed goid-henper caught each whisper
ing
The poet sang!
[Dorothea Dimond in Frank Leslie'!.
HER PARTY.
BY SHIRLEY BROWNE.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you, little
girl," said Doctor Deemer, "but I am
afraid this party of yours is quite out
of the question."
Stacy set down the quaint old Chinese
eofl'cc-pot and looked at him with
large beryl-blue eyes of disapproval.
"Uncle," said she, "you promised
it to me."
Doctor Deemer retreated behind the
stronghold of tho weekly paper.
Stacy's reproachful eyes were too
much for him.
"Yes," he acknowledged, "I know
I did. And I meant to keep my prom
ise, but I couldn't foresee then how
things would turn out. Our funds are
very low; in fact, we seem to be in
debt everywhere. I don't really know
what is to be the end of it."
"Yet," said Stacy, with slow, severe
accents, "you went to the book sale
112. . paid forty dollars for that old
edition of 'Beaumont and Fletcher.'"
"Ye~-, I know, Stacy; it was a great
bargain."
'•Forty dollars would have furnished
music and refreshments for my
party."
"Don't scold, child," said the doc
tor, stirring his egg. " I'm very
sorry! I forgot all about the party."
"You're always forgetting me,"
6aid Stacy, a big tear balancing itself
on each reproachful eye. "My poor
party—and I'd told so many people
about it, and promised to invito all the
girls! I shall never accept any more
invitations, now that 1 can't repay
them!"
Plash—plash! went the big tears on
the old Canton china breakfast plate.
Doctor Deemer was a tender-hearted
man, and the two diamond drops went
to his very soul.
"Don't cry, Stacy," said he."Have
your party just the same, with cake
and lemonade. Deb' >y can make very
fair cupcake, and lemons arc only
thirty cents a dozen. And Simeon
shall bring up his fiddle."
"Cupcake, and lemonade, and
Simeon," scornfully uttered Stacy.
"No, Uncle Deemer, 1 haven't fallen
so low as that. I can do without a
party, but 1 can't condescend to second
rate invitations."
And she ran out room in the
tempest of tears, coming into collision
with old Debby as she did so, and
scattering a plate of graham gctns on
the floor.
Doctor Deemer and his niece, Anas
tasia, lived all alone in Koslyn Hall,
one of those great echoing houses where
everything goes to prove the empty
glow of the past. Doctor Deemer had
lost his fortune, and Anastasia's too,
in a series of disastrous speculations.
He had all the lasts of a man of
wealth, and a blind adoration of his
ancestry. He himself was quite con
tent to dwell in life's shadow; but
sometimes it seemed to him as if Stacy
ought to have a little more sunshine.
Stacy thought so, too. Her 18-year
soul revolved against the sort of life
she led with a yreat rebellion.
"Louise Melton is engaged to be
married," thought she, "and Emily
Eldon spends her winters in New
York. But I shall live and die an old
maid, for I never see any one, nor
travel anywhere- Louise was going
to bring her Chicago cousins to my
Easter party, and Emily was going to
write to Mr. Vavasor to come down
from New York for it. Emily said
Mr. Vavasor thought 1 was the pret
tiest girl in Claneonnell. I don't be
lieve that; but I should lil.e to have
him see n* 4a a white serge dress with
kaby-b)wM£* ribbons. 1 wor« a hid
eous blue seersucker that day when he
came to see the prize chrysanthemums
in the garden."
Up and down, up and down the long
oak-floored gallery tore Stacy with
flaming cheeks and yellow curls stream
ing out behind. It was Stacy's way
when she got into a passion to walk
herself out of it. Just opposite a por
trait of her great-grandaunt, whose
name she had somehow inherited, 6he
came to a sudden stop.
"Well," she cried, "why do you
stare so steadily down at me, Aunt
Anastasia, with those big blue eyes?
It really does seem as if you had some
thing you wanted to say to me and
somehow couldn't get it out. Really,
one don't wonder that old Debby slur
ries past you in the twilight and says
the family portraits haunt her worse
than any ghost. Oh, it's all very well
for you to smile in that simpering,
inane fashion," .she added, shaking her
little dimpled list at the counterfeit
presentment of her dead-and-gone an
cestress. "You were an English
beauty, and danced at General Wash
ington's state balls, and Gilbert Stuart
painted your portrait, and you were
married at eighteen and went to the
West Indies. That was life and hap
piness enough, even if you did die
young. People say your eyes and
mine are exactly alike, but I'm sure I
never was half as pretty as you. But
perhaps it's the string of pr«rl« and
the satin gown that makes you so
lovely and—"
She stooped suddenly and picked up
an opened letter lying on tho dark
oaken floor, directly under the tar
nisl 1 gilt frame.
"What's this?" 6he cried, "Oh, a
letter from the picture dealers in New
York. They want a genuine example
of Gilbert Stuart for a private collec
tion, and have heard of 'The Lady
with the Pearls' in the old Koslyn Hall
gallery. 'Anastasia Koslyn, 1789.'
Are prepared to give two hundred dol
lars for it if Doctor Doerncr will kind
ly consider their offer. And here's
Uncle Deemer's pencil writing upon it.
'ltec'd March 3d, 18— Mem. To
write back that, the Koslyn pictures are
not in the market I' Oho! But l.'n
cle Deemer never consulted me—and 1
am the owner of the Koslyn pictures!
Two hundred dollars—that's a deal of
money. What do you say, Aunt An
astasia?" looking up with eager blue
eyes at the dim pictured face—"will
you help me with my party? It isn't
that 1 have no family feeling, but
you're dead and buried, you see, and
you went to parties and danced when
you were a girl, and you must know
c«actlv how I feel."
Stacy Deemer rushed upstairs to her
room, wrote a hurried letter to the
New York picture tlealcr, ran to the
postoffice just in time to save the mail,
and came dancing back, her yellow
curls afloat, her cheeks pink as roses.
The wreaths of snow were melting
away from the hillsides, the maple
trees were bursting into red stars of
bloom, the lilac and white crocuses
lifted their tiny heads along the shel
tered edge of the path, and an adven
turous bluebird shrilled his tiny trum
pet from the old cedar grove. Stacy,
too, could have sung aloud in the full
ness of her girlish glee.
"I shall have my party, aLcr all,"
said she.
" What's this, Stacy?"
Dr. Deemcr stared first at her, then
at the slip of pale-green paper in her
hand.
'•lt's a check, Uncle Dcemer, for
two hundred dollai-6. Can you cash it
for ine?"
"A—check I"
"Yes. I've 6old my aunt Anasta
sia," calmly admitted Stacy. "She's
going to help me give my party, the
darling 'Lady With the Pearls."'
It was 6ome time before the old
gentleman could be made to under
stand the full extent of his niece's der
eliction. Then he grew pale.
"Stacy," said he, "you don't desrvc
to have any ancestors! I would re
deem this picture with a thousand
dollar bill if I had it! lias it gone?"
"A week ago, Uncle Deemer."
He threw the check back to her.
"I'll have nothing to do with it!"
said be. "It's almost equal to trading
in human tlesh and blood! You'll be
selling me next, you wicked girl!"
"But, I'ncle Deemed—"
"Please leave me, Stacy; I'd rather
be alone."
fctacy went away rather awed. There
LAPORTE, PA., FRIDAY, JUKE 13, 1890.
was something in Uncle Deemer's pale
old face tliet frightened her.
"I—almost—wish I hadn't sent the
invitations," thouglitshe. "But, after
all. Aunt Anastasia was my very own
grandaunt, and I'm quite sure sho was
willing. I could read it in her eyes.
Sho was a girl once, and I know she
liked parties."
But Stacy had not calculated for all
that followed. Uncle Deemer was an
old man and very feeble, and the
shock was too much for him. He took
to his bed. A physician was sent for,
who shook his head and looked un
utterable things.
"Something 011 his mind," said he.
"It's Aunt Anastasia," faltered
Stacy; "and it's all my doing. I—l
sold a family portrait that he is
especially fond of."
"Get it back again, at all hazards,"
said the doctor. "I can't light disease
as long as all tho mental forces are
against me."
"Do you think he'll" die?' said
trembling Stacy.
"I hope not," said the man of
medicine.
For the first time in her life Stacy
went to New York, to interview the
picture-dealer. The picture-dealer was
sweeter than milk, smoother than oil;
but it was beyond his power he said to
help her. The picture was already
hanging in the private collection, No.
Fifth Avenue.
"Can I go there?" said Stacy.
"Well I suppose you can,"
doubtfully observed the picture
dealer. "But I don't believe it will
do any good."
Stacy, however, was resolute in try
ing to undo the mischief she had done.
She went straight to No. —, Fifth
Avenue.
"I have called abut a portrait,"
said she. "A Gilbert Stuart, 'The
Lady With the Pearls.'"
The butler eyed her closely. She
had 110 leather bag in her hand, nor
did she appear like a solicitor of sub
scriptions.
"I'll ask master," said he.
"Take him my card," said Stacy,
loftily. "Miss Deemer of Koslyn
Hall."
The butler showed her into a recep
tion-room with crimson crape curtains
festooned between pink marble col
umns and a great, grinning Japanese
idol in old ivory and cloisonuee, and
leparted noiselessly.
Presently another footstep crossed
the threshold.
"Miss Deemer."
Stacy uttered a little cry.
"Oh, Mr. Vavasor, is it you? Oh,
please, I want my grandaunt back
again, and hero is the picture-man's
check. 1 haven't even cashed it, you
see."
"But," said Mr. Vavasor, looking
with artistic admiration at the sun
shine glinting on her golden hair,
the shifting light in her wonderful
blue eyes, "I don't think I quite un
derstand."
And then Stacy, blushing and em
barrassed, made her confession. Poor
little wrong-headed, impulsive Stacy.
"I didn't know uncle Deemer was
so fond of her," murmured she, "or 1
never would have sold her. And
please, may 1 have her back."
' I don't think you realize, Miss
Deemer, how much 1 value that 'Gil
bert Stuart, 1 " hesitated Vavasor.
"Oh, but she's my ancestress,"
urged Stacy. "And she was my
namesake, and people say I am like
her, and when I sold her I sold the
luck of Iloslyn. Please, please," cried
Stacy, wringing her poor littlo hands,
"let me have her back."
"Oil one condition only," said Mr.
Vavasor. Stacy looked terrified.
"That you allow me to give you that
party. You arc to supply the old hall
for dancing and the evergreens, and I
aui to send down the music and the
supper, and mind, you are to give me
the very first dance of ail."
Stacy clapped her hands.
"And I shan't have to recall the
invitations after all," said she. "Oh,
how splendid it will be! If only Uncle
Deemer gets better!"
Uncle Deemer did get better, dating
from the dav when the "Gilbert
Stuart" was hung up on his bedroom
wall.
"The luck of Roslyn has come
back," said he. It was very kind of
Mr. Vavasor to tiavel (.'own with you,
child. 1 suppose ho knew the picture
must b« carefully guarded."
The party came oft' with eclat. Stacy
looked like a newly opened rosebud.
The music was delightful—the supper
such as onty Charezzi could get up.
"But Starr," said Emily Eldon, who
was of a rather critical turn, "mamma
says yon shouldn't acccpfc so many
favors from any gentleman who is
neither your relative nor your ac
cepted lover."
"Does she?" said Stacy, with a mis
chievous sparkle of the eyes. "Well,
then, tell her to 6et her mind at rest;
Mr. Vavasor is my accepted lover I He
asked me to marry him last night, and
I'itt sure Aunt Anastasia knows it"—
with a bright upward glance at the por
trait—"for see how she smiles down
upon me."
And for a moment it did seem as if
there was a smile on the face of"The
Lady With tho Pearls." [Fireside
Companion.
Ran Ills Train Through the One Ahead.
"There are heroes and heioes, and
there arc heroines and heroines," said
Chauncey M. Depew in speaking of
personal bravery. "There arc blue
shirted men who go over our railroad
lines every day in engine cabs who
would laugh at you if you intimated to
them that they are heroes, and who in
spite of all are as brave as any man
who ever drew a sword or carried a
musket. Kailroad men have seldom
much time to think. They are cowards
or heroes in a second. Not long ago
one of our engineers of an express
trail! rounded a turn in the road and
saw that another train had been derail
ed, and lay right across the track. A
collision was inevitable. The engineer
might have taken chances and jumped,
but he didn't. As he said afterward:
"'I saw right away we were in for
it, and like a Hash it struck me that our
only chance was togo right ahead and
cut through if we could. So I threw
her open and let licr go.'
" Tho exnerimcnt was perilous, but
it was successful. He did 'cut through,'
and no 0110 was injured. This act of
the engineer was that of an exceedingly
courageous, cool-headed man.
"Another engineer on a Western
road performed a similar act sometimo
ago with tragic results. He tried to
—or in fact was forced to try to —cut
through a freight train that had been
thrown across the track. Non; of the
passengers were injured, but the engin
eer and his firemen were killed. This
is but too often the reward of bravery
11 all walks of life."—Philadelphia
Press.
(Jol«l From Siberian Minos.
A very heavy consignment of gold
from the Siberian mines recently ar
rived at St. Petersburg. Our corres
pondent telegraphs that the caravan,
which left Irkutsk on the 9th of De
cember, took 18:5,840 ounces of gold.
The wagons containing it were escort
ed by 300 Cossacks, under tho com
mand of Lieut. Cols. Mekrassoft' and
Karneyoff. Part of this gold was
from the Atnoor fields.
Very Timely.
Stranger—"l have here a poem, sir,
on 'The Beautiful ' "
"My dear sir, wc have 10,-
000 on 'The Beautiful Snow' on hand
now, and we don't want any more."
Stranger—"Then perhaps, sir, you
will allow me to continue. My poem
is on 'The Beautiful Mud. 1 "
Editor—"We'll take that, young
mail."—Judge.
Helping an Author.
A French millionaire who wanted
to help a French author to somo
money, in an indirect way ordered 75,-
00( copies of his book and burned
thorn for fuel. Then he learned that
the author had sold his right, title,
and interest before publication for the
sun of $l5O.
To Be Inferred.
A Michigan weekly says of a sub
scr.bcr who died the other day : "Had
he maintained a different attitude to
wards water, wc have no doubt that ho
would have lived on for a score of
years to come." Wc infer that he
drank too much water—altogether too
much.
A Fine Distinction.
Under the laws of New Jersey "a
disorderly person" may be a person
wLo "stands and looks over a fence at
at a woman standing on a step-laddei
to wash a kitchen window." A man's
privileges arc being whittled down
pretty thin nowadays.
Terms—sl.2s in Advance; $1.50 after Three Months,
LADIES' DEPARTMENT.
VANITY AT THE TABLE.
From Paris comes tho information
that an essential to a perfect dinner
service at the present time is a small
mirror, handsomely mounted, placed
upon tho table in front of each lady.
This singular appurtenance enables the
lady to gratify her natural solicitude
as to the condition of her coiffure and
as to her general appearance; further
more, by an adroit manipulation of
the mirror one is able to see what is
going on around her.
SPANISH WOMEN'S MANTIU.AS.
A Spanish woman's mantilla is held
sacred by law and cannot be seized for
debt. There are three kinds of man
tillas which form tlu toilette of the
Spanish lady. Tho first is composed
of white blonde, used only on state
occasions, birthdays, bull lights and
Easter Monday. The second is black
blonde, trimmed with deep lace, and
the third for ordinary wear is made
of black silk trimmed with velvet. —
[Dry Goods Chronicle.
BLUSHING POWDER.
A perfumer has not only invented a
face powder that will not come oft" 011
gentlemen's coat-?lceves, but lie has
patented a blushing powder. You en
ter a ball room, ladies, looking quite
interesting by reason of your pallor,
and gradually your cheek will warm
to an engaging flush, and your young
man will exclaim: "That marvelous
complexion is, indeed, her very own.
No doubt of it, for I have seen her
change color."—[Argonaut.
PAINTING A HOUSE TO MATCH DRESSES.
Tte idea that women should dress in
such colors as will match their sur
roundings has its advantages, and again
it has its disadvantages. The writer
knows of a young woman whose hus
band recently purchased an artistically
painted Anne cottage in a de
lightful suburb of this city. Last
summer, the lirst in the new home, his
wife would never sit upon the veranda
without being dressed in a gown which
contrasted harmoniously with the color
of the house. The long winter inter
vened and this spring the color of the
house was allowed to escape from her
calculations in buying her summer
dress goods. When they were all
bought it was discovered that they
contrasted vileiy with the veranda.
Now she insists that the house be re
painted.— [New York Tribune.
A HEART DINNER.
A debutante had a heart dinner giv
en to her tho other day in New York
city. The tables were heart shaped
and covered with pale pink satin over
laid with a drawn linen cloth. At
each plate was a heart-shaped, pink
satin bonbonnicic and the menu had
stuck through it heart scarf pins for
the men and brooches for the girls. A
single heart of moonstone framed in
diamonds formed the pins, while two
hearts of the same style fastened to
gether with a tiny arrow of gold made
the brooch. Tho centre piece was a
huge heart of pink carnations, with
an arrow of white lilies of tho valley
transfixing it. The hostess wore a rose
crepe gown and had a silver heart as
the buckle at her waist ribbon, while
about her neck was s narrow silver
chain and a little silver heart on which
was inscribed: "To my heart's de
light." "Well, hearts have been play
things from time immemorial, and if
it is really true that for once hearts
are again trumps then Cupid Esquire
can laugh at money and sing again :
•' 'Tis love that makes the world go
round.'' —[Philadelphia Inquirer.
HAIR DRKSSED IN JAVA FASHION.
An entirely new style of hair-dress
ing is thieatened, says a fashion
writer. In Paris the frizzy bang has
meekly subsided to give the Javanoise
head dresses a chance. Fashion ap
pears to have gone daft on those pe
culiar ornaments, and the great jew
ellers of the Rue de la Paix have been
ordered to reset diamonds of more
than one grande dame after the pat
tern of those flat metal ornaments.
At the opera a few weeks ago a daz
zling light in Parsian society appeared
with her hair dressed perfectly tlat to
her head, on one side, right over the
ear, an ornament as large and as flat as
an individual butter plate, composed
of diamonds and pearls, and medallions
as larife as an JEiunisli ueuuy. of the
NO. 35.
same gems, going round to the other
ear, across the forehead just at the
line of the hair. How those gorgeous
jewels were kept in place waR a secret
known only to madame's coiffeur and
jeweller, but it was "Javanoise," and,
therefore, a beautiful and distinguished
innovation on the diamond star and
butterfly ornamentations. Such is one
of the results of the Paris Exhibitions
where the fashions of Java dancers
were first introduced to Western imi
tators.
TnF. SUMMKFt BODICE.
In nothing is the range of ideas more
observable than in the bodice. The
basque is by 110 means dispensed with,
it is freely optional. The Empire
waist is also retained, with its shorten
ing effect of wide, soft gash, so becom
ing to young figures.
Bat there is also a distinct revival of
the lengthened, slender, moyen-age
bodice of the sixteenth and seventeenth
centuries, which reappeared in a modi
fied form, forty years ago. It is now
outlined upon the hips with a shaped
band of silk or velvet, taking the place
of the girdle, which, however, is alio
revived in magnificent designs, and
occasionally displayed inartistic cos
tumes. Such styles arc only suitable
for the ceremonious dresses of ladies
110 longer very young; soft materials,
gathered skirt, and surplice waist and
the Swiss corslet bodice, suit better
the light fabrics worn by young girls
during the spring and summer season.
The pretty plaited ruffles for the
neck will be used as much or even
more than last year, but young women,
in fact all women who want them of
the desirable, soft, India tone in white
muslin and Jisse, should make them
for themselves, or the plaiting will
not be tine enough for elegance. A
light summer cotton, or spring woolen
dress is wonderfully becoming with
one of theso rullles surrounding the
r. ther low-cut round ncrk, which so
charmingly frames the throat.—[The
Housekeeper.
FASHION >*OTKS
There is no decrease in the length of
the sunshade sticks this season.
Velvet ribbon an incli and a half
wide do well for bonnet strings.
Armurc and faille Francaise silks
are appropriate for elderly ladies.
Perfumes are worn any place and
every place but on the handkerchief.
Fans to match the costumes are
out in all the new colors; thanks to
Japanese industry.
The latest stylos in bedroom furni
ture are very beautiful, introducing
several new woods.
A new material for summer dresses
is the Japanese grenadine, which is
said to "wear forever."
Little wraps of black lace and jet
and of netted passementerie in cords
promise to become popular.
Dresses of wool arc combined free
ly with colored silk or with striped
satin in harmonizing colors.
Many of the new suitings brought
out for tailor gowns have fringed bor
ders in a contrasting color on one sel
vage.
All the new bonnets are very small.
The front have sometimes wired lace
lappets for trimmings, which look like
butterflies' wings.
All the little bonnets and toques
have strings of narrow velvet ribbon
in the back, and from the knot some
buds and bits of foliage peep out.
The marvclo.is excellence of the
French flowers this season almost sur
passes belief and is the delight of the
ladies. They come into play in nearly
all styles.
The latest fancy in floral bonnets is
a study in hawthorn and briar roses
surrounded by aigrettes of light green
foliage and tied with black or moss
green velvet strings.
A new style of glove, with the
stamp of Paris on it, has the top or
arm made of alternate rows of kid
and flat Val lace. Proportional to the
novelty is the price.
Cream, dove, ecru, reseda Milan
braids are all in favor, but are led in
popularity by Tuscan yellow, which in
turn is surpassed by black hats and
bonnets, these easily leading.
A neat hut for a n»s» is a poke
shaped leghorn with silk crown and
trimmings of white velvet forget-me
nots. The facing is of lace, with a
wreath of the same fOl set-me-nots.