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 <Mi the left side
—a complete inversion of these organs.
Dr. Joseph Leidy, LL. D., the eminent
scientist and professor of anatomy in the
University of Pennsylvania, visited the
the dissecting-room, and after a thorough
examination, said there was a complete
transversion of the organs and a most
wonderful anomaly. He stated that in
all probability there was not a similar
case in existence.
The cadaver was afterward presented
to the university and placed in the
museum. —Chicago Herald.
The Last War Horse.
The last war horse is not dead yet.
"Old Dave" still lives. He is owned by
Uncle Ed King, who rode him iuto the
war the second year. Mr. King belonged
to Terrell's regiment of Texas cavalry.
The horse is hands high, a dark
brown, well proportioned, and in good
fix now. The horse was thirty-two years
old last spring. Nothing is known of
his ocdigree. He was taken to Kaufman
County, from Goliad, when a colt, by
horse drovers.
Mr. King is a citizen of Kaufman
County. He attends all reunions within
his reach, and rides the horse and saddle
that he rode through the war. On August
8, 1889, ata reunion,"Old Dave"' seemed
as though possessed with supernatural
instinct, as was shown by his movements
during the procession. When the baud
was playing he would stand erect and
paw, and if moving, incline to prance.
His food has to be ground. The miller,
Pat Hogan, will not toll the grain that
is being ground for the old horse, because
they were iu the war together. Mr.
King's weight during the war was about
165 pounnds; now it is 220 pounds, and
"Old Dave" carries him wherever he
goes.— Atlanta Constitution.
A Rain Tree.
Augusta, Ga., has a curiosity in the
shape of a "rain tree." In describing
it the Augusta Chronicle says: "Herein
the city, with electric cars flitting back
ward and forward every few minutes,
almost under its shadow, is a veritable
rain tree, which, for the past ten days,
has been throwing off a slight shower
and the ground lieueath it kept in a state
of moistness equal to that after a steady
shower of considerable duration. Cit
izens eye it curiously, and many of the
more ignorant, especially darkies in that
neighborhood,affirm with all the strength
of firm faith, that the tree is visited with
some uncanny potency."
A Valuable Volume.
There is now iu San Fraucisco a vol
ume thau which there are few more
valuable in the world. It is worth ex
actly $30,000. It is a registry of the
whereabouts and identity of 3000
Chinese corpses in the city cemetery, all
of which havo to be dug up and returned
to China indue time, while a disinter
ment permit costs $lO. — Chicago Times.
One tree in the Sierra Nevadas u\eas
ures 1294 feet in circumference.
NO. 9.
DREAMLAND.
On the other side of on plac?.
And traversed by mirroring stream*.
Is the land that belongs to no race.
The land that we see in our dreams.
'Tis a country of Sowers aud fountain^
With landscapes fair to behold.
Where green hills and grey mountains
Stretch away toward a sunset of gold.
There are fruits that mortals ne'er tasted.
There are skies of beauty most rare,
And, although it is time wasted,
We long for this land of the air.
'Tis a place we never shall visit.
Though often we gaz3 on its charms,
For it comes as a pleasure exquisite,
Whon we rest in old Morpheus's arms.
—E. H.Pritchard, in Arkansaw Traveler.
HUMOR OF THE DAT.
Castles in the air do not bring in any
rent.— Galveston. Neirs.
You can easily fill the public eye if you
only have the dust.— Neie York News.
She—"He talks like a book." He—
"What a pity he doesn't shut up us
sasily."— Life.
Clever tact will win in business, and
:lever tacking will win a yacht race.—
Pittsburg Dispatch.
They fill our dally cup with gall
As through the world we go,
These two: The man who knows it all
And he who "told you so."
A level surface is flat, yet there is a
distinction between a level-headed man
»nd a flat-headed one.— Pittsburg Chron
icle.
A dead man is given more charity than
he can make use of; a living man isn't
given as much as he deserves.— Atchison
Globe. '
"This is the worst snap I cvcrrtruck,"
remarked the woodchuck when he got
caught in a steel trap.— Binghamton Re
publican.
Goslin—"l just gave hint a pieee of
my mind, douchorknov?** Dolly (anx
iously)—" How could }'3S spare it?"—
ifunsey's Weekly.
She—"l hope you do not remain in
the parlor when your sister receives her
fiance" He—"No; 'cause I'm afraid of
the dark."— Life.
She—"lf you attempt to kiss me I'll
call mamma." lie—" What would happen
then?" She—"Oh, nothing, for mamma
isn't at. home."— Chicago Post.
The iceman now doth count with glea
The gold o£ sumujer's winning;
The coal man, too, exults; for n«
Will now enjoy an inuiug.
—Mw.isnfs Weekly.
We all want the elevator to wait for
us, but when we are in we don't like to
see it kept waiting auy longer for any
body else.— Somerville Journal.
"Uncle Jacobs, aren't you ashamed to
he'seen here so often?" "Laws, y'
Houah, dis place am respccable ter some
plr.ces where I am seen."— Backet
Snivcly—"Have you ever sailed in a
birch canoe?" Snodgrass—"No; my only
experience with the birch was when I was
paddled with it."— Munsey's Weekly.
"Irreverent? Yes, indeed. Why, if
it were possible, it would be just like
him to sit around and munch peanuts at
his own funeral."— lndianapolis Journal.
Laugh, and the world laughs with you,
Weep, and you weep alone;
Fail, and the world laughs at you;
Don't, aud it's all your own.
Washinqton Star.
"What is the difference, papa, between
a tour and a juuket!" "A number of
our own party makes a tour. A junket
is the trip of a number of the opposition."
—New York Herald.
"Aud oh, Uncle Silas, I had such a
lovely time last summer. Four other
Vassar girls and myself took a tramp
through the Oatskills." "Um-m-m!
But do you believe, Elizabeth, that the
tramp enjoyed it?"
"And does that please you, Mrs.
Brown, that your husband calls you a
Xnntippe in public?" "Oh, I don't
grudge him the little pleasure of trying
to make the world believe that he is a
Socrates."— Fliegende Blaetter.
Watts—"Now, if I understand cor
rectly, the first principle of socialism is
to divide with your brother man." Potts
—"Then you don't understand it correct
ly. The first principle of socialism is to
make your brother divide with you."—
Indianapolis Journal.
Teacher—"Explain the difference be
tween law aud custom." Boy (who
owns a sailboat) —"Accordin' to law, a
steamboat must givo the right of way to
a sailboat, but 'cording to custom the
sailboat lias got ter make tracks or get
smashed."— Good News.
"I tell you, Mr. Jenks is a nice man."
"So?" "Yes. I talked to him over an
hour, and he agreed to everything I said,
and never interrupted me bit once, and
that was to say that there was a bug on
my dress collar, and even then he apolo
gized."—Dansville Breeze.
A Reckless Promife.—"Wife (who is
goiug to the country)—" Will you couie
to see 1110 next Buuday?" Husband—
"Why, of course. I'll speed to you on
the wings of love!" Wife—"You come
then on the express train?" Husband—
"Oh, no; the slow local train will suit
me well enough'?"— Fliegtnde Blaetter.
"These barbed wire fences ain't no
good," said the farm hand. "I wouldn't
have one of "eiu around the place if I
had my way." "'Why not!" inquired
the stranger. "They're cheap and
strong and keep cattle in better than
anything else." "That may be," re
plied the farm hand, "but theu a feller
can't sit down on "em."— Chicago Light.