W. M, CHENEY, Publisher. VOL. IX. St The Drovers' Journal figures that tlio flaily mileage mado in cities of the Uni ted States by cars supplied with electric motors is now more than one hundred thousand miles and is growing rapidly. who live in San Francisco con gratulate themselves that earthquakes are not altogether objectionable, since they prevent the erection of high blocks of buildings, which keep air and sunlight Out of the streets. U Professor Simonson says that there arc Dow from 1,000,000 to 5,000,000 stu dents of Volnpuk in the world, of whom 1,000,000 arc competent to use it; 1200 business houses where it is employed, »nd 1200 Volapuk text and reading books, as well as thirty well regulated Volapuk journals. The number of cattle in Indian Ter ritory is now found to be only 500,000 head. This is a great falling of! from former years, and shows, argurs the Boston Cultivator, that hereafter the con sumers of beef must depend on stock fed with cultivated forage and grain, instead of relying on the product of pastures costing nothing. It will bo much better lor all branches of farming in all parts of tho country when the demoralization of ranching has finally had its day. The Chicago Herald says that "Florida and California are each making a strong bid for winter visitors by sending out cars filled with tropical and semi-tropical fruits attractively displayed. There is a car of this kind known as 'Florida on Wheels,' which made the tour of the Eastern resorts and did good missionary work during the summer months. A train of cars known as 'California on Wheels' and containing a superb exhibit of fruits, is now en route for the East for tho purpose of booming Southern Cali fornia as a winter resort, and will un doubtedly influence many people to cross the continent tho coming winter." Ono of the curious facts which work ingmeu and mechanics detailed to under take work in different towns notice, re marks th.e Chicago Newt, is that the small country places are frequently ahead of the metropolitan cities in the way of sci entific improvements. Many a rural vil lage of COOO or 10,000 inhabitants quick ly avails itself of the opportunities which the city inventors and scientists have been discovering for years. Thus it hap pens that little towns of a fow thousand population which have grown up within the last four or five years have electric lights, electric railways, cable lines, and water works more perfect than the big cities have. Several California papers recently con tained a matrimonial appeal, signed by •'a young and beautiful Hungarian maiden, an orphan without means, but well educated and with domestic tenden cies, who seeks a companion for life." The answers were to be directed to Paris, ■where the young lady was employed as a nurse. Incredible as it may appear a dozen oilers from marriageable young 'Frisconians came over the sea. A lively correspondence ensued, and finally each of the wooers received an exquisite pho tograph and an affirmative answer from the beautiful Hungarian maiden, with a request that the lovor should send tho necessary cash for a transatlantic ticket. The swindler or the syndicate of swind lers netted 6000 marks in all by the trick. And now the prospective bride grooms, among whom are some well known names, dare not whisper their misery. The experiments in the cultivation of plants under the electrical light, recently made by the botanical department of the Cornell University, at Ithaca, N. Y., have given some curious and interesting results, and results which arc in some re spects confirmatory of somewhat similar experiments not long ago reported from Russia. Tho first and' most noticeable effect of the treatment is an enormously increased rate of growth. The plants ■which aro lighted seem to work day and sight and to"run very much to leaf." Vegetables shoot up very quickly, and peas in a few weeks are two or three times as tall as those planted at the same time in daylight. In the case of seeds and fruit of any kind, however, the re sults arc entirely different, and the plants which had grown slowly and by daylight were ahead. It was observed that in every instance tho reproductive powers of the plant were strongly affected,being sacrificed to mere foliage and rapidity of increase in general sizfe. SULLIVAN REPUBLICAN. TO A. LITTLE BROOK, You're not so big as you were then, O title brook I 1 mean those hazy sutnmors when We boys roaniod, full of awo, beside Your noisy, foaming, tumbling tide, And wondered It It could be truo That there wore bigger brooks than you. O mighty brook, O jieerless brook 1 All up and down this reedy place Where lives tho brook. Wo angled for the furitivo dace; The redwing-blackbird did his best To make us think he'd built his nest Hard by tho stream, when like P*A not, He'd hung it in a secret spot Far from tho brook, the telltale brook I And often, when the noontime heat; Parboiled the brook. We'd draw our boots and swing our fecfc» Upon the waves that, in their play, Would tag us last and scoot away; And mothornover seemed to know What burnt our legs and chapped them so— But father gnessed it was the brook' And Fido—how he loved to swim The cooling brook. Whenever we'd throw sticks for him; And how we boys did wish that we Could only swiin as good as lie— Why, Daniel Webster never was Socipient o{ such great applause As Fido, bottling with the brook I But once—O most unhappy day For you, my brook— Come Cousin Sam along that way; And, having lived a spell out west, Whero creeks aren't counted much at best, Ho neither wadod, swam, nor leap, But, with superb indifference, stopt Across that brook —our mighty broo'.c! Why do you scamper on your way, You little brook. When I come back to you to-day? Is it because you flee tho grass That lunges at you as you pass. As if, in playful mood, it would Tickle the truant if it could, You chuckling brook—you saucy brook! Or is it you no longer know— You fickle brook— The honest friend of long ago? The years that kept us twain apart Have changed my face but not my heart- Many and sore those years, and yet I fancied you could not forget That happy time, my playmate broo>' Oh, sing again in artless glee, My little brook. The song you used to sing for me— The song tliat's lingered in my ears So soothingly these many years; My griof shall be forgotten when I hearyonr tranquil voice nguiu And that sweet song, dear little brook! —Eugene t'iehl, in Chicago Xeivs. A LAST CHORD. Madame Lnngelot, a comely, smiling woman of thirty-six, was humming mer rily as she went to and fro in her dining room, and giving the last glance, the careful housewife's glance, to the family table. Whatever the season might be, there was always a bunch of flowers to enliven the board and testify to the deli cate touch of woman. Suddenly Madame Langelot stopped, a3 she recognized her husband's step, and he hail hardly entered tho room when she exclaimed; "What is the matter? Yon look up set." "I have rearon to be, darling," he re plied, "when a man hears at the same moment of the failure and the death of his only brother " "You brother, oh, my poor dearl" cried Madame. "His marriage, as you know, was an unfortunate one," continued the husband, "ho was an artist in heart and soul, and forgot everything in his love for an Italian lady, who had a madonna-like face and wonderful musical talent. Her dark eyes bewitched him, and iu spite of my entreaties, and our father's opposi tion, he married her. lie was utterly incapable of managing his business, and was made reckless by the death of his adored wife. Yesterday, in despair, he tool; his own life, and on me devolves the task of settling his affairs in an hon orable manner. I must do this dear, for he was a Langelot." "Of course," was the reply, "it is your duty." "There is something else, said Mon sieur Langelot slowly, and his wife, startled by his hesitation, exclaimed anxiously: "What do you mean?" "My brother has left a son, he is twelve year 3 old, but delicate and de formed, and will never be able to provide for himself." "And you think it is our duty to adopt him?" "My dear " "You aro perfectly right," cried tho young woman, kissing her husband fondly, "how good you are, dear! Bring the poor boy home, and he shall bo our Clairetto's elder brother." And thus the orphan's fate was settled by theso two simple loving souls. Monsieur and Madame Langelot, who had been married twolve years, idolized their only child. Clairette was three years old, a frail, delicate little creature, highly nervous, treated like a queen, and gomcwhat dospotic, as spoiled children usually are. In u few days Lucicn Langelot nrrived at his unclo's home. He was painfully deformed, pale and delicate, and of bis nvrther'* radiant beauty had inherited nothing except the large dark eyes,which LAPORTE, PA., FRIDAY, OCTOBER 24. 1890. Illumined his thin face with thair bril liant flashes. Close against his breast he pressed a violin, his dearest treasure. At sight of this stranger tho little Clairetto began to cry and sob convul sively. Her cousin looked timidly at the fair-haired and gaily dressed little crea ture for a minute,'then raising his instru ment, said softly, "Listen, tho violin will sing to you— do not cry." And beneath his young fingers the ar tist's bow moved wondrously, the sound of a gay yet tender air burst forth, and the improvisation like a caress suddenly soothed tho child's fears, and she was silent. •'More, more! Sing again, pretty * iusic!" cried Cluiretto when the player stopped, and she clapped her little hands in glee. So tho wonderful violin played on, seeming to speak words of enchantment, and showing plainly what the poor hunchback had received as his maternal inheritance. From that day a tender af fection united the two children, and the years passed on. Luc'en has become a man, and is asso ciated with his undo in business. He is a most valuable assistant, being gifted with extraordinary intelligence. He has not neglected his musical talent, and has had the best instruction. "Do you know, my boy," said his uncle, 4 'that you will some day be a great composer, our pride and glory?" "My only glory," replied Lucien. softly, "is in knowing that Clairette is pleased with me." lie speaks the truth, poor fellow; his whole happiness in life depends upon his cousin's smile. She too, the petted sensitive child, is now grown up, and lias become a lovely woman. She loves her cousin with frank sincere affection, and prefers to all other music the nir he played for her when first they met, so that in the family the melody is always called "Clairctte's Song." It is a composition worthy of a master-musician, and sinco drying the child's tears, has become the souveuir of her earliest joys. What happened next was inevitable. One day Lucieu acknowledged to him self that he loved Clairette, and called himself a fool for dariug to raise his ey< s to the daughter of his benefactor. True, she was his cousin, but how could he, the poor hunch-back, hope to marry the beautiful blooming girl? He concealed his grief within his heart,and the violin, his only coufidaut, wept and sobbed f6r his hopeless love. Claire Langelot, a gentle, affectionate girl, treated Lucien as her dearest friend aud counselor, confiding to him her in most thoughts. One day she artlessly told him of her love for Raoul Darboz, and then in a sudden burst of happiness, exclaimed: "Here, Lucien, take your violia anil play CJairette's Song for me!" All, what bitter irony that was! The instrument was forced to sing her happy love, under his martyred fingers! A little later, Kaoul aud Claire were married. Lucien played the wedding march. It was his own composition,and all through the music a mystic strain was interwoven by the master's skill, and filled the vaulted edifice with its tender melody. The bride started when she recognized her favorite air. "Poor dear cousin," she thought, "it is all for uie that he is playing." At tho wedding breakfast they awaited the musician, impatient to congratulate him on his new composition, but he did not appear. "An artist's caprice," said Uncle Lancelot. "I'll wager that he is busy writing out his latest improvisation." Clairie was grieved at Lucien's ab sence, but that eveniug she and her hus band set out for Fontainebleau, which was the first stopping place of their wed ding tour. On arriving at the hotel near-the grand old forest, the young brido sat looking out of the window to enjoy the view and the scent of the fir trees. Night fell, calm and quiet, tho trees wero rustled by the caresses of tho breeze, a sweet perfume came from the forest, and tho only sound was a soft in definable murmur that seemed like the breathing of nature. Clairo turned to Kaoul, saying: "Do.you know, I am anxious about Lucien. lie may bo ill. I did not see him, even to say good-bje." Kaoul clasped her in his arms as he re plied with love's jealousy: "Forget him and every one, my wife, all your thoughts now belong to me," and beneath tho blue slty where the golden stars were sparkling, sho forgot all else in the embrace of him to whom she had given her heart. Suddenly there arose on the still night air a soft strain of music that sounded like a sigh, a lamentation, and Claire, roused from her ecstacy of love ex claimed : "Ilark! That is Clairette's Song. Dear Lucien! I know that he has come to celebrate my happiness, to play for inc on my wedding-night. But, ah, how sad the music sounds." "You aro dreaming my love," said Kaoul, as 110 closed the window, "I did not hear any music." She listened again, but the silence was unbroken and once moro she forgot everything but her love. At dawn the next day, in a pathway near the hotel there was found lying across his broken violin, tho dead body oi Lucien Langelot. The brief lament of unspokon hopeless love had floated up for a moment to the young bride's ear, but the last chord from LucicnV violin had awakened only the birds of the for est.—Th« Epoch. "" Joe, tho Worm Man. Joe Pierce,the "only worm merchant," died in this city a few days ago. Joe was well known on tho water front. His store was a portable bucket and gunny sack. llis place of business was nearly always open, for Joe slept but little. lie liaid no partner but a diminutive Scotch terrier that was constantly at odds with the whole world, and his only stock in trade was worms. Four years since Joe, who had an In terest in pure politics, determined to register as a voter. The Registrar's decks subjected him to a closo cross-fire of questions because his mien was sus piciously humble and his garb seedy and worn. "What is your business?" he was finally asked, and, drawing himself to gether, Joo answered in all seriousness: "I am a worm merchant." lie was passed, and the story of his tilt with tho commissioners traveled through the mazes of the water front, and honest Joe was thenceforth known as "the worm merchant." I It was ten years ago that Joe appeared on the water front and inaugurated his enterprise. lie took up his stand at the corner of Clay and East streets, with his slimy wares concealed in a bucket bear ing tho advertisement in prominent let ters made with shoeblack: "Wirma, Fresh an tiud." "You've spelled that wrong, Joe," remarked a sailor to him one day. "Nover you mind," was Joe's reply. "Wirms is worms, and people as wants 'cm knows where to get 'cm." Late at night, when noisy revelry reigned high in the brilliantly lighted saloons along East street, Joe would go down to the wharf and push out through tho muddy water in a small boat. Next to au asphaltum cover Joe was the next best friend to the terodo-strickcn piles, for he searched diligently for the long, wriggling things until his gunnysack was almost nlivo with them. Next morning he would take lip his position ,m East street and wait for customers. Nearly cvevy lover of the rod patronized liim, and the superstition spread apace that Joe was a sort of piscatorial mas cot, and that his worms were "sure to fetch." He contributed by his thrift to tho support of his mother and sisters. When the nows came that he was dead the whole water front mourned his loss. —San Francisco Chronicle. An Opportnnc Thirty Cents. "I had a most extraordinary piece of luck last Sunday," remarked a young broker to a I'ribun* reporter a day or two ago, "aud for it I have been thanking a kind Providence ever since. I invited a Kirl cousin togo down to Long Beach for the afternoon, take supper there aud return in the early evening. After we started I discovered that I had somehow brought only $2.90 with 1110. I had one railroad ticket, but with another required, two suppers, car fares and ferriage, fig ure as I wanted, I was just about twenty cents short. It was one of those horri ble cases of smiling and joking without, and a sort of whited sepulchre within, wondering wildly how to pull through. We reached the beach, and I was re volving tho plan of throwing myself on the mercy of the clerk and offering a check, when we stopped in our stroll along shore to examine some shells and seaweed, when blamed if lying right at my feet wasn't thirty cents—a quarter and a nickel. "I stooped down and picked them up iu a hurry. " 'What have you found?' asked my companion. " 'A little silver,' I said, carelessly. " 'Oh, how lovely. llow much?' " 'Only thirty cents,' I said, as though I was disappointed at not finding n bag of it. I wasn't disappointed. Never was so happy iu my lifo. It was just enough to pull me through, and I reached homo with ten cents, but I tell you it don't do to lean on your luck like that every day."— New York Tribune. Why tho Dayaks Hunt Heads. Many Dayak tribes of Australia are still addicted to head-hunting, a prac tice which has made their name notor ious, and which but lately threatened the destruction of the whole race. It is essentially a religious practice—so much so that no important act in their lives seems sanctioned unless accompanied by tho offering of one or more heads. Tho child is born under adverse influences unless tho father has presented a head or two to the mother before its birth. The young man can not become a man and arm himself with tho mandau, or war club, until he Jias beheaded at least ono victim. Tho wooer is rejected by the maiden of his choice unless he can pro duce one head to adorn their new home. The chief fails to securo recognition un til he can exhibit to his subjects a head secured by his own hand. No dying person can enter tho kiugdom beyond the grave with honor unless he is accom panied by one or more headless compan ions. Every rajah owes to his rank the tribute of a numerous escort after death. —Popular Science Monthly. Prime Minister Crispi, of Italy, is a millionaire, though poorest among Italian revolutionary exiles thirty years ago. Terms—sl-25 in Advance; $1.50 after Three Months. HOUSEHOLD AFFAIRS. j- drytno fruit. Dried fruit is one of tlie by-products of the farm, and although it will not pay the farmer to hiro labor to dry fruit, it will pay to make arrangements in advance for it, so that members of the family can occupy their spare time in this kind of work. In this way a very considerable amount of fruit that otherwise might be bad can be turned into an article not quickly perishable, and for which a market can alway be found, writes aQ Ohio farmer. Good apple-parers should be provided for expediting the work, which should bo done in such a manner that the fruit when dried will be clean and attractive in appearance. Nothing detracts so much from its value in the eyes of a purchaser as to find the pieces with bits ef core sticking to them and poorly pared besides. I do not favoi bleaching any kind of fruit, whether it is dried in the ordinary way or evapor ated quickly. If the fruit itself is good to begin with, I would give more for it for my own use when it has been slowly and cleanly dried than for that which has been hurriedly evaporated and bleached with sulphur. Nice dried peaches I consider as good as those that are canned.— New York Worltl. THE WINTER WINDOW GARDEN. The housewife who loves flowers must now begin preparations for the stock which shall bloom in the winter gardef during winter. This is done by making cuttings of such plants as may be de sired. Geraniums of all kinds and other soft-wooded plants may be started from cuttings made in the summer. Indeed, the flower garden may be duplicated in the windows indoors through the winter if the right preparations are made now, and the garden may be restocked in the same way. Fuchsias, heliotropes, salvias, coleus, verbenas, bouvardias, and chrys anthemums (and no other flower than ihe last mentioned will offer so much pleasure) tnay all bo propagated in this way. Roses may also be added to the | list. It is not that such plants may not bo purchased from the florist 3 easily and cheaply, but the pleasure of growing them and rearing them to pleasing and successful maturity is far greater and more satisfying than the mere possession of plants bought from tho florists. Be sides, home-grown plants are generallj I more robust and enduring than those ! forced under glass. Elsewhere will be ! found full instructions for growing plants 1 from cuttings and for their management i up to tho time for taking them Indoors. | Potted plants sot out of doors will send I their roots through the drainage opening of tho pots, and when they are taken up i the severance of these feeding roots will j give a serious, if not fatal, check to the plants.— Ncto York Times. RECIPES. Apple Cream Custard—Bake five ap ples and then remove cores and skins; beat whites of three eggs to a froth, add apple and beat. Serve with boiled cus tard made of one quart of milk, yolks ol three eggs, small cup of sugar, quarter of a cup of flour, little salt. Cream Pic—Line a plato with crust, stir to a cream one-half cup of sugar and one tablespoonful of butter, add two well-beaten eggs, two tablespooufuls of flour and two cups of milk; mix all to gether well; flavor to suit tho taste, pout into tho lined plate and bake like a cus tard pie. To Make Raspberry Salad—To a quart of ripe raspberries you need half a pint of red currant jelly and a gill of clear syrup, made by dissolving a gill of sugar in a saucepan with a tablespoon ful of hot water; when melted add the currant juice; when cold pour this all over tho raspberries, and set on ico till morning. Flannel Cakes—One quart of flour, one gill of cormneal, four eggS, one ta blespoonful of butter melted in u pint ol fresh milk, salt to taste, and two tea spoonfuls of baking powder, or half a pint of sour cream and one level tea spoonful of soda. Tho eggs mast be beaten separately, very light. Bake quickly, as you would buckwheat cakes. Apple Shortkake—Make a crust as for baking powder biscuit; butter a pie tiu, take a piece of tho dough sufficient to press out with the hands to half an inch in thickness aud the size of the tin; place in the tin, and spread the top with butter; mold out another similar piece and lay on the top of this, and bake. Prepare tart apples, as for sauce, adding a piece of butter the size of a hickory nut. When the crust is done, carefully divido tho layers, spread with butter, and put tho hot apple sauco betweeu. Serve with sugar and cream, or other sauce as preferred. Veal Cutlets—Steam the cutlets for a few minutes, so as to parly cook them, then wipe them dry. Have ready a dish with finely-powdered cracker-dust. In another dish have four egg yolks, beaten light and mixed with two tablespoon i'uls of rich, sweet cream. Soa3<\u cut lets and egg mixture with salt aud pep per. Have ready a frying-pan half full of boiling lard. Dip tho cutlets, first one side and then tho other, in the eggs, and then iu the cracker dust, aftei which put them iu the boiling lard; do not disturb them until the under side is brown, then carefully turn, aud when the other nide is brown, remove to a. hot dish and servo at once while crisp. Do not attempt to serve gravy with cut lets. NO. 2. "KNEE DEEP! KNEE DEEP!" ••Knee tleop! knoo deep!" I am a child again! I hear the cowbells tinkling down the lane. The plaintive whippoorwills, the distant call Of quails beyond the hill where night hawks fall From lambent skies to fields of golden grain. I hear the milkmaid's song, the clanking chain Of plowman homeward bound, the lumber ing wain. And, down the darkling vale 'mid rushes tall, "Knee deep! knee deep!" We're all at homo—John, Wesley, little Jane- Dead long ago!—and the boy-soldiers twain That sleep by purling stroam or old stone wall In some far-off and unknown grave—we're all At homo with mother!—heartache gone and pain! "Kneedoep! knee deep!' 1 —Henry J. Stockard, in the Cosmopolitan, HUMOR OF THE DAY. Goes into tea without being askod—• Milk. Society leaders are in the swim every where but at the seaside.— Puck. Arbitration gives two parties the halves of a pretty stale and bitter loaf.— Puck. Ladies' change—that found In the pockets of husbands at night.— Boston Courier. It may bo said of a man who Invests in a quarry that, his lot is a hard one.— Yonkers Gazette. Some men stand on principles, othors trample on them. The latter, naturally, make the most noise. Silver is sold in France by the "kilo." In this country it comes in quartz.— Commercial Advertiser. A man must necessarily have a sharp eye in order to cast a piercing glanco.— Binghamton. Republican. "A gooil lathering is the first requisite of ft good shave." "It is also the best thing for a bad shaver."— New York Herald. "Do you dictate to vonr typewriter?" "I used to do so, but I matried her and now she dictates to me/'— Boston Courier. There U reason in all things. Few never call thjfr vnves "old hens" until they became broilers.— Commercial Ad vertiser. Dedhed-»-"Say, doctor, what kind of medicine will cure my cold?" Doctor Smart—"The kind I prescribe."—Yan kee Blade. An uptown man recently left his family and has not since been foun<l, al though his uoso turned up.—Philadel phia Times. If money could be borrowed as easily as trouble, the world would be full of round-shouldered people.— lndianapolis Ham's Horn. W;>ggin' Their Tongues.—"Did you ever know that a wagon spoke?" "Yes, I heard one complain about being tired." The Bostonian. "Will you love me when I'm old?'' sang a maiden of uncertain age. "Will I?" murmured a crusty old bachelor. "Do I, you mean?"— Washington Star. "You'll bo a President, perhaps, If well you run life's race." "I'd rather bo," the boy replied, "The mau who plays first base." Washington Post. "The new assessor is a very honest man." "You don't say sol What has he been doing?" "Why, he told me he often taxed his own memory."— West Shore. "Judge," said the prisoner, who had robbed an art store, in a pleading tone, "there ain't any law to prevent a man's taking photographs, is there?"— Chicago Tribune. Groom—"A ring around tho moon is the sign of rain." Brido (sweetly)— "And a ring around a woman's flnger is the sign of " Groom—(sadly) "Reign."— Jewelers' Weekly. Miss Amy—"Now I'll sing you 'Only a Lock of Iler Ilair.' " Young Dolley (after she has made several false starts) — "You don't seem to have the right key for that lock."— Lippincott's. Susan (reciting)—" Haifa league, hall a league, half a league onward—" Fa ther—"There, Susan, that'll do. We don't want any of that baseball nonsense in this house."— Boston Transcript. If progress, now so fresh and fleet, Keeps on, it's just as like as not We'll tuko our baths, and shave, and eat By putting nickles in the slot. Washington Post. First Citizen (at a street row) —"Is that man lying in the ambulanco one of the fighters?" Second Citizen—"No, he was passing at the time and tried to stop tho fight. There go the fighters wulking off now."— Boston Herald. "No," said Professor Fcelem, the eminent phrenologist," my profession does not yield a life full of suushine, as many suppose, I tell you;" and he wiped away a tear. "I've felt some pretty hard bumps in my life."— Light. "Arc you a student or a practicing physician?" asked the young woman of the young man who had been known as "Doctor" since last June. "Neither," he said, with a depth of disappointment which she could not fathom.— Washing ton Star.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers