SULLIVAN REPUBLICAN. W, M, CHENEY, Publisher. VOL. IX. The railroad capital of the world is estimated at $29,000,000,000. Tests of new and lemarkable guns are being made all over Europe. It is said, significantly observes the Mail and Ex press, that in times of peace nations pre pare for war. The British South Africa Company, it is reported, has proposed to its employes that any servant discovering a mine in the country covered by tho company's charter will be made a co-proprietor of it with the company. History shows that the closing ten years of each century have been years of calamity. "There is no reason to believe that tho coming decade will be an ex ception to the rule," is the gloomy view of the situation taken by the Atlanta Constitution. Mrs. Kendal, the English actress, paid a most glorious tribute to American men apd customs, thinks the Chicago Pott, when she told a newspaper reporter in London that she would rather her daugh ter should go alone from New York to San Francisco in America than walk down Bond street in London unattended. There are 200,000 women in the Wo man's Christian Temperance Union, 125, 00Q in the Eiug's Daughters, 100,- 000 in the Woman's Relief Corps, and 85,000 in the Eastern Star. An aggre gate of nearly 500,000 banded together under various names for loyal service to all manner of human need, exclaims the New York Sun. A Dublin correspondent tells the New York Mail and Express that the "manu factures that exist in Ireland can be counted on the fingers of oue hand. There is the linen industry, a famous brewing bouse and an equally famous distillery. The whole lot combined does not have as many hands employed as there are to be found in many single wards in Philadelphia. The proposition to abolish titles in France may be taken, declares the Chicago News, as a wholesome indication of the growth of republicanism among the people of that country. Francu has been a progressive nation since the days of Clovis, and in tearing off the bauble decoration of "nobility" she will be a long way ahead of the rest of Europe. It is time for the old world to Jearn that honor and glory do not reside in a decora tion, nor is there any nobility in wear ing a bit of metal danging from a ribbon. Verily, a policeman's star is of more use and has a deeper sigaificance. A recent article in Brndstreet's gives some surprising statistics of the com merce of the great lakes. During 234 days of navigation last year tonnage passed through the Detroit River to the •mount of 10,000,000 tons more than the entries and clearances of all the sea ports in the United States, and 3,000,- 000 tone more than the combined foreign and coastwise shipping of Liverpool and London. This does not include traffic between Lakes Superior and Michigan or Lakes Erie and Ontario, or local traffic between ports of these lakes. The growth of ship-building on the lakes has been very marked in the last few years. In 1886-7 there were thirty-one boats built, valued at $4,074,000, and in 1889-90 there were fifty-six built, valued at $7,- 866,000, the tendency being, as where, toward iron and steel for large ships. A startling number of suicides have lately taken place amoDg Portuguese authors. Last June the aged poet Cas tello Branco, the best-liked novel writer of the day, shot himself. He was well off and had a numeious family, but had lately suffered from a malady of theirs. Shortly before his death he bad writt&k a novel in which voluntary death was praised as the most beautiful close to an active life. His funeral was celebrated like that of Victor Hugo in France. A few weeks ago the author Silva dc Braga took his own life after writing many re alistic novels in which the hero always committed suicide. On July 23 a school director and secretary of the municipal ity of Almada, Professor Arthur Mattos e Lcmos, took his life in a hotel in Lis bon with a revolver. In a letter to his wife he declared that the earthly life of fered him no more room for the develop ment of his mind. On the 25th of tho name month Professor Frederick Augus tus Oom, director of the Royal Observa tory at Ajada, atsw shot himself. He.was uuly forty-five. KECLAIMED. . Where once there was a waste of desert sand. Now fertile gardens gladden all the land. Where the fierce simoon o'er the desert blew, Now falls at even heaven's refreshing dew. Within a sonl held long in error's snare, Dwells a free spirit in sanctified prayer. Poor desert land! Poor soul by error claimed! Once ye were lost, but now ye are reclaimed. —Hoses G. Shirley , in Youth's Companion. A BAD HALFHOITF BY EMMA A. OPPER. "I haven't known you very long," Marion faltered, looking down on the sand. "Long! Oh, Marion, can you count it by days? It has been a lifetime to me, Marion. I have lived only since I have known you!"' The sentiment was not new. And John Gordon was only a fine looking man, in a becoming summer suit, and a black silk , shirt and sash—for this was Rocky Beach. But to Marion Taylor— "l do like—l-1-love you, Mr. Gor don!" she said, bravely. "It hasn't been long, but I have come to care for you. You are the first man I havo ever been willing to marry." "And I'll be the last!" John Gordon cried, and pressed her hand hard. They were close to Marion's hotel now. If the imposing - , not to say for midable figure of Marion's Aunt Pauliua had not been apparent on the piazza, they might have lingered still. John Gordon turned his eyes to her. "She doesn't like me, Marion," he said, softly. "What will she say?" Marion was a soft faced and gentle- j eyed girl, but she held her chin high at that. "What she says can make no differ ence! Good-by, John!" "Good-by!" the young man uttered, rapturously. And a moment later Marion was drop ping into a bamboo porch chair—a small one; Aunt Paulina occupied a large one. A glance at her strong-featured, im perturable countenance was enough for Marion. She said to herself, slangily, that something was up. "You remember my saying, Marion," Aunt Paulina begau, "that I was dissatis fied with this place?" Marion's eyes opened. Aunt Paulina had once remarked that her bed was a ; little hard. "Well, -I have rather suddenly made . up my mind to leave. The Dawsous are ! at Ripley, and they write me that the 1 place is charming. It is only ten miles along the coast, Marion, and I have told Sarah to get our things together, so we can start this afternoon. I think wc shall both be better for the change." Marion looked down, ller impulses were many. She came near laughing, but gasped instead, not wholly with as tonishment. She was not unused to her Aunt Paul ina's methods, and her principal emotion now was a sort of admiration for her j boldness; for the case was a clear one even to unsuspicious Marion. "Murion," Aunt Paulina recommenced, with a surprising burst of caudor, "it's that young man ! Marion, you well know I that I wholly disapprove of him. I lay ' awake last night thinking of it. I must do something. The blame will be on my head if I allow you togo on!" Aunt Paulina declared, solemnly. "Marion, what do yoti know about him?" "Not very much, Aunt Paulina," said Marion, gently. "How long have you known him?" Aunt Paulina demanded. "Since we came. Six weeks, you know." "Six weeks!" said Aunt Paulina, tragically. "And you walk with him j every day, and boat and bathe, and ' dance in the evening. And you were introduced by the Lambs!" her lips clos ing grimly on the name. "Tho Lambs! , people who take up everybody and any body. Just that is enough for me! Do you know where he is from?" "Boston, I think," said Marion, dubiously. "You think! And his business?" "Something about glass,"l believe. j "Glass! And his property—has he | got any?" "I don't know," said Marion, frown ing at last. "He doc3n't talk about him self all the time." "For reasons, doubtless," said Aunt Paulina, looking rigid. "Marion, listen to me, child! I cannot consent to sit still and see A young man of whom we know nothing, and you, Marion,with k;our beauty and amiability and with my money secured to you! Murion,you owe something to ine—some consideration, some obedience " Aunt Paulina was growing flushed r.nd incoherent, and since Marion kuew about what she was going to say, it was as well that Sarah came just then to make an in quiry, and that Aunt Pauliua fouud it necessary togo back with her. Marion sat like a pale, wide-eyed statue. What should she do? The mild lines of her sweet mouth would have- made it clear to an observer what she would do. She would go with her Aunt Paulina, of course; what else? She had never yet thought of opposing her. She owed her everything, and she had always hitherto put faith in her judg ment. But as to this about John Gordon? She would have to go—have to leave Rocky Beach to-day—have to leave John. But give him up? Never—never! She LAPORTE, PA.., FRIDAY, DECEMBER 12. 1890. would write to him—do anything and everything. But go she must. Aunt Paulina was making preparations; Sarah was packing; and Marion looked off to ward the rolling surf with a distressed and sombre gaze, her red lips a-quiver. She did not see her Aunt Paulina again till three o'clock that afternoon, which was agreeable both to herself and to Aunt Paulina. For Aunt Paulina's plans went like clock-work. Trunks were packed and bills were paid and a cab engaged, and at three o'clock Aunt Paulina saw her niece into it and sat down herself., t and drew a sigh of relief folded her inds. "Ripley, Mrs. Dawson writes," she be gan, cheerfully, "is liveliness itself. The G'heevers are there, nud the Longs. Ilenry Cheever, you know, has just re turned from abroad—a very pleasant young jnan. And that young Long must be twenty-six or seven by this time. And there will bo othere, of course. lam sure you will be glad I thought of going. All young girls havo their foolish moments, Marion, and you have had yours, and you will yet bo grateful—" The station was close at hand, and Aunt Paulina's reassuring remarks were interrupted. "The thiee-ten," she said to the sta tion agent, as she sat down iu the wait ing-room—"is it on time?" "The three-eight, do you mean, ma'am?" he responded. "It's just gone, ma'am, this minute. The three-fitty is the next, ma'am." "Who told me it was three-ten?" said Aunt Paulina, sternly. But nobody had. "Forty minutes! What an aggravation! Sarah, get the tickets!" She settled into displeased silence— displeased and uneasy. Her brow was furrowed, aud her eyes roved toward the door apprehensively. She was ill at ease, quiet Marion reflected, for fear poor John Gordon would putin au appearance. John Gordon did not, but what was almost as bad, Mr. Lamb did. Mr. Lamb, iu a very tliiu suit, but perspiring still with the combined pres sure of the heat and a hundred and eighty pounds, Game pulling in, bought a ticket , and sat down and fanned himself with his hat and newspaper. "Ah, Mrs. Field and Miss Taylor!" he exclaimed. "Whither away? I'm bound for the city for half an hour. Hot day, but I've something I can't neglect. John Gordon promised togo with me. Where is the rascal? Train in ten minuter, Where is he, Miss Taylor? You ougl* to know." * ne came over and sat down beside them—large cheerful and smiling. Aunt Paulina frowned, but she might as well have smiled; Mr. Lamb behaved as though she had. "You ought to know, young lady," he insisted, jollily. "Keeps you informed, : doesn't he? llow do you like him, any -1 how? Nice fellow, eh?" Mr. Lamb rattled his paper, and looked ! at his audience beamingly. "Fine is the word for him! One of ; the brightest young fellows I know, j Good company every time, Gordon is. I Haven't you fouud him so?" "Yes," Marion murmured, though 1 Aunt Paulina looded like a thunder | cloud. "Jolly fellow, Gordon. And that isn't I all of him. He's clever—that's the new | word, ain't it? Smart's what I mean. First-class business fellow, but he goes ; deeper. He's what you might call lit- I erary. Insatiable reader—up to every thing. Even published an article once. I You know he ranched it for a year, for fun, and he wrote it up for the Arctic Monthly, audit made rather a sensation. Clever fellow!" Aunt Paulina raised her lowering brow, with a cough. Literary qualities ! had always been admired in her family. I Her grandfather had been a minister. ! "Well, he ought to be, I suppose," ' said Mr. Lamb, reflectively. "He was graduated at Yale, and had a year or two !at Heidelberg afterward. Traveled all 1 over Europe and took everything in. | You've noticed how well-informed he is i about all sorts of things, Mrs. Field? Astonishingly!" "Um-tn!" said Aunt Paulina, clearing her throat. "He's practical, though," said Mr. Lamb, with half-closed eyes. "He isn't ! all for theories and notions. He means to be a rich man yet, and he's in a fair way to be. It's oue of the greatest glass and china businesses in New England, and the income is pretty big. It was a i fine business when his father died, but Gordon has built it up wonderfully. He ' owns good property there in Boston, too. ' Well, I suppose Gordon is worth seventy | five thousand anyhow." "llow much?" said Aunt Paulina. "About seventy-five. The Gordons have been a rich family since the flood, j 1 reckon. Good old family, the Boston j Gordons. He's Higgins on his mother's ' side. She was a Philadelphia Higgins. : Let's see—you're from Philadelphia, Mrs. Field?" "I am," said Paulina, agitatedly. She was, and knew the Higginscs to be blue-blooded, exclusive and irre proachable. "Well,'here I'm blowing about him like a house afire. But there's ample ex cuse for it. Miss Taylor—excuse me; I'm a rough old customer—but if things ! do come out all right, accept my cou i gratulations. He's the finest fellow in the country." Silence for a moment, which the rattle of Mr. Lamb's paper—he was fanning Aunt Paulina—alone disturbed. Aunt Paulina looked fixedly into ipace. "There he is now!" said Mr. Lamb, at footsteps outside. "Here you are! Don't care a bit about going in with me, do you? Well, it is hot. Guess I'll have to let you off." John Gordon bowed low to Aunt Paulina, and smilingly to Marion, and sat down beside her. He had a red-and white cap now, and a red sash instead of the black one, and he looked handsomer than ever. But he looked astonished and alarmed. "Where are you going?" he said to Marion, anxiously. "To Ripley," she answered, her eves lowered. "Ripley 1 Goodness, is that where?" Mr. Lamb cried. "Not for good, Mrs. Field? Why, typhoid fever has broken out there within a day or two, and there's six cases already. It's lower land than 'tis here, you know, and theie'a standing water back of the village." "It's a malisrnant form of it, I under stand, Mrs. Field," said Mr. Gordon, mildly. "Ripley! What have you got togo lor?" Mr. Lamb demanded. "What's the matter with the Beach? It's a jollier place any time; and now, with typhoid fever up there AVhy, this morning's paper said everybody's leaving the place!" "Mercy, Aunt Paulina!" Marion mur mured; the corners of her mouth were twitching. "My train!" said Mr. Lamb, getting to his stout legs with no small effort. Well, I haven't the heart to drag you " oflg, Gordon. It's too warm; aud there's another consideration—a more powerful one. I doubt whether you'd go if I wanted you to," said Mr. Lamb, with a rumbling laugh, and made the laborious bow of a fat man and boarded his train alone. "Surely, Mrs. Weld," said John Gor don, turning his honest, bright eyes upon her, "you are not going to Ripley? You wouldn't think of such a thing? You'll give it up, Mrs. Field—you cer tainly will?" Aunt Paulina looked him over from head to foot. Did she smile? | Marion almost thought she did. At any rate she looked calm and bcuignant. »'I think I shall give it up," she re sponded. "I think it seems advisable." "I'll run and call a cab," John Gordon said, joyfully. "Or wait—won't you take a drive with me, Mrs. Field? Let me get a carriage and take you and Miss j Taylor for a drive. For the breeze, you know. Say yes, Mrs. Field!" But he was off baforc Aunt* 1 Paulina could say yes. It was daring that drive that their engagement was announced, aud well received. Marion loved her Aunt Paulina, and was scruplously respectful to her ever: and the true history of that Ripley plan she never divulged. Wheu her lover would say dubiously, '•And your Aunt Pauline positively dis liked me at first, Marion!" she would ! merely answer: "But who could dislike you long, John, dear?"— Saturday Night. A Sand Storm in Utah. William 11. Ballou, the author of"The Upper Ten," "Tho Bachelor Girl," etc., related this story at the Fifth Avenue Hotel to a group of interested gentlemen: "When I was in Salt Lake City recently I followed the fashion there and went every afternoon with long train loads of people out to Great Salt Lake, twenty miles distant to float on the surface and enjoy the salt bath. One afternoon as the train drew near to tho station at Garfield, one of those extraordinary sand storms, prevalent there, came whirling down through the mountain ravines. It is these storms, I think, that will one day till up the lake bed and leave a small imitation of Sahara. This particular storm was terrific and terrified the pleas ure seekers. It passed directly in the path of the train, and in less time than I can tell it the engine and cars were cov ered with a deep bank of sand from which there semmed no hope of getting out with our lives. The atmosphere within was hot and stifling; we were literally buried alive." "How did you finally get oat?" asked a gentleman. "Why, the train had scarcely stopped before the storm changed in direction and blew every graiu of saud back up the mountain sides. Then wo got on our bathing suits and enjoyed ourselves."— New York Press. Who May Wear the Title "Hon." In England the title of "Honorable'' is bestowed upon Earls, Viscounts and Barons, both sons aud daughters; also upon members of the House of Com mons, Mayors of principal cities and other persons occupying positions of trust and honor. In tho United States the title is more freely bestowed, judges of courts, members of both branches of Congress, members of State Legislatures, Govornors of States, Mayors of cities and many other persons occupying pub lic positions being designated by the pre fix. There is no limit to the application of the title in this country. It Ls not official, and no one eau claim it of right, j It is simply a mark of favor, aud on« that, of late years, hits been applied so indiscriminately that it can hardly be longer considered a mark of especial Uis Unction. — Detroit Free Press. The first formal observance of Decora tion Day occurred iu W City on May 30, 1868. Terms—ftl.26 in Advance; $1.50 after Three Months. i, Tho Finest of Shawls. The finest shawls that are used in this or any other market, said a well-informed representative of the shawl trade to the Saunterer, are those made in India and known as the India shawl. There is an. imitation India shawl made in France, but while it is an excellent product of the loom, it does not in any way compare with the genuine article. The real India shawl is made from the wool of the Cash mere goat ly the natives of that land. The India shawl is made in strips or pieces by hand and colored and then sewed together, and the greatest care is observed in its manufacture. In the imi tation India the wool of a species of the same animal is used, but it is of an in ferior quality, and the goats that furnish the French market with the material are raised in Australia. England produces the camel's hair shawl, the velvet and the beaver shawls. The camel's hair shawl is not made from the hair of a camel, as a good many people suppose, but from the combings of the wool of a certain kind of sheep. These combings are woven loosely so as to secure the peculiar effect that is a characteristic of this make. Besides the imitation India, France manu factures a great quantity of broche shawls in singles and doubles. The material used in them is all pure wool. Another kind of shawl imported from France is a pattern like the real Paisley. Formerly these Paisleys were made in Scotland only, but the French shawl manufacturer pilfered the design from the Scotch, and as a result very few ol the Paisley shawls come from the laud of the plaid and the bagpipe. Those that are made are to fill special orders, as they are an expen sive luxury. In the real Paisley the wool is the purest and finest selected, and no chemicals of any kind are U3ed iu its preparation.— Chicago Post. His Heart Was on His Right Side. A man with his heart on the right side and his internal arrangements generally wrong fell under the knife of the doctors at the University of Pennsylvania a few days ago, says the Philadelphia liecord. Dr. Thomas C. Clark, while dissecting »nd demonstrating upon the body of a man, probably fifty years old, discovered i complete inversion of the abdominal and thoracic viscera, the peculiar nature of which is that the heart, instead of be ing on the left side, was found to bo on the right, and the aorta, or great artery, instead of arching to the right, turned to the left. Upon further examination it was found that the stomach and spleen wei;e also on the right side, while tho liver, instead of being on the right, was