SULLIVAN REPUBLICAN. W M, CHENEY, Publisher. VOL. IX. Twenty-three States now hare Bu reaus of Labor and Statistics. One of the largest manufacturing con cerns in Brazil says that American ma chinery is superior to anything made in Europe. Bradstreet's states that there are in New England half a hundred stock farms, ■where twenty years ago there wore prac tically none, and in California the breed ing of fast horses has become almost a craze. In 1890 the largest number of Italians arrived in the United States in any one year, being 52,004, of whom nearly eighty per cent, must be classed as un skilled; in fact, 15,235 stated to the in spection officers that they had no special gainful occupation. The New York Netot predicts that this will be an exceptional year for immigra tion. The figures for a recent month in dicate a larger influx of foreigners by twelve or fifteen thousand than we had during the same period in 1890. The Italians predominate. A citizen of St. Louis makes a good living by renting turtles to restaurants for advertising purposes. He gets $2 per day for each, and they are always in demand. They are left outside the door the day before turtle soup is served, and create a run the next day for the soup, J but they are not in it. A recent writer suggests that tho sciences might receive new names that would be self-explaining. He would give us birdlore in place of ornithology; iishlearning instead of ichthyology; plantlore for botany; starlore for as tronomy,etc. Some of these are occasion ally used already, and there is no good reason why we should not adopt all of them. A New Orleans paper reminds the Italian press that twenty-two English and American tourists have been cap tured by brigands in Italy during the last fifteen years, and of this number nine were murdered because tjiey could pay no ransom. The'ltalian Govern ment moved not a hand in any one casu, nor did England or America make any threats. The British Medical Journal, in an ar ticle commenting on a case of hypnotism described in a New York paper, insists that England shall pass laws to prevent the reckless practice of hypnotism in Great Britain. The article expresses re gret that reliable information is at hand that several physicians of standing are traveling in England under assumed names and practicing hypnotism upon all applicants, regardless of risk to health and life. An English engineer of high standing in a recent paper on our new navy said that in general workmanship and in many details the new ships built in this country •were equal to England's best, and that the armament of the battle-ships were more powerful than that of any ships of the same class built in Europe. In con cluding his address he declared that the work of the Americau contractors was worthy o: study by all Englishmen in terested in the subject. The German press is not allowed a special rate on its telegraphic corre spondence, the Government makiug no discrimination. In all other countries press dispatches are transmitted at greatly reduced rates, but Dr. Stephen, Director of the German Telegraph, re cently declared that he saw no reason whatever for favoring the newspapers thus. As a result of his illiberal policy, notes the Chicago Pott, the press messages of Germany constitute only li per cent, of the total traffic, and the German newspapers are among the dullest on earth. A groom's right to wear a moustache has been tried in England, with the court's decision in his favor. When Mrs. Grimshaw's groom was engaged ho was smooth-shaven, but after a cold ho grew a moustache by his doctor's ad vice, whereupon Mrs. Grimshaw ordered him to shave or go without notice. The Judge held that the demand was un reasonable. If he had been a house servant, wearing powder and white silk stockings, suggests the Boston Tran »cript, he might have been required to shave; but a grDoiu was an outdoor ser vant, and a moustache was a natural .protection against the weather. The plaintiff .got $25 damages. LIGHT. What does the blind man, blind from In fancy, Note in the vistas of his sleeping dream? Living in darkness 'neath light's glowing stream, I What can dreams show him that would lovely be? I Loud would he sing, joy-brimming, suddenly To know the blessing of day's faintest gleam— Brighter than bright dream pictures then would beam Life's radiant beauties in his vision free. And would not we, reposing in the gloom, Dreaming in shadow, reft by death of sight, In awe-struck joy and wonder wake to see, Like the day breaking into sudden bloom, About us burst the rolling sea of light That gilds the white shores of eternity? —if. K. Munkittriek, in the Century. misslhlloway. BY CARRIE A. GRIFFIN. Miss Dilloway locked the back door of her small house, and hung the key in plain sight near the kitchen window. How far the safety of her goods aud i chattels was ensured by this simple act ; she never stopped to consider; but noth ing would have induced her to leave the door unlocked. On her way down the narrow gravel walk she stopped to pull a weed here and there from the flower-bed, and to I pick up an obnoxious piece of paper which had somehow found its way into the midst of the flowers. She straight ened a young Balm of Gilead tree, and tied it more securely to the small stick which served as a prop; then, closing the gate carefully behind her, she walked briskly down the village street. She had walked rather timidly along the platform of the little railroad sta tion, and was about to enter the waiting room when she was accosted by a man standing near, who was checking a soli tary trunk. "Wal, wal, Miss Dilloway I Goin' on a journey?" "Not much of a one," she answered, curtly. "Wal, go right in, and I'll be in in a minute." He soon appeared at the ticket-office ! window, curiosity written all over his | face. Miss Dilloway noted it. "I want u ticket to Preston. How 1 much is it?" she said. '•Oh, to Preston! Eighty-five cents. ! Let me see; got any relations up that way?" "No. Can you change five dollars?" "Oh yes—twenty-five, if you say so! Wal, didn't Ezr/'s folks move up Pres ton way, or nigh there?" "No; they moved to Clar'mont. How soon'll the train go?" Old Mr. McQuestion leaned forward j and looked out through the office window at the clock on the wall. 4 -In 'bout fifteen minutes. Set down; set down over there in the rocking-chair, and ißiake yourself comfortable. 'Taint every depot that's got a rocking-chair. Ahem! Goin'to be gone long?" "No," answered Miss Dilloway, with a slight smile, lather enjoying the situation. "No? Il'm—h'm! Wal—" But the good man's curiosity was not <o be gratified that morning. A call from the baggage-room necessitated his hurrying away, and the ten o'clock accommodation soon bore little Miss Dilloway out of sight and hearing. In two hours' time she was standing before a large brick building, over the massive door of which were the words: "Home for the Friendless." She trembled a little as she ascended the granite steps, and waited a little time before she rang the bell. A white-capped servant showed her into a small reception-room. It seemed as if her nervousness increased with every moment's waiting, and when a tall, serious lady came slowly into the room. Miss Dilloway wished very much indeed that she were safe at home. "You came to see our little ones?" said the lady, with a smile which drove all the stern lines from her face. " Ye-es ; I did come to get one—to adopt ; but now't I'm here, I don't know that I'd ought to." "Perhaps you can tell better after seeing." "Yes, yes, I suppose I can. You sec I made up my mind rather suddenly. Mr. Thornton, our minister—l come from Rentham—preached a most power ful sermon last Sunday from the text, * Whoso shall receive one such little child,' and that sermon has been haunt ing me ever since. He had just come from a visit to Bos tan, where he saw an orphan asylum; and he said it made his heart ache to see so many little children who never knew what it was to have a mother's kiss on their foreheads." Miss Dilloway wiped a tear from her eye, and went on "And then he said, if the Lord was going to ask us by and by what use we had made of the talents He had given us, he didn't see why He shouln't ask us what use we'd made of our homes, es pecially those folks who had been given houses bigger than they needed. He asked them if the people didn't think it wasn't burying rooms, a3 the man buried the talent, to keep them shut up; and he urged them to open their hearts and homes—to be mothers and fathers to Borne little waif who didn't have any parents. •'Then he capped it all by saying tbat he and Mrs. Thornton had just adopted » five-year-old boy from that very asy- LAPORTE, PA., FRIDAY, MAY 22, 1891. lum. They're got seren already! »,t that's like Mr. Thornton; he always practises what he preaches. "Well, when I sat down that afternoon with my Bible and hymn-book, I couldn't get my mind off that sermon. When I heard it, it didn't seem as if 'twas meant for me, but for married folks; but some how the thought of Abby's chamber up stairs—Abby's my sister who died last year—kind of worked its way into my mind, and I wondered if the Lord would say to me, 'Cynthia Dilloway, have you kept that room of yours hid in a napkin?' "Then I thought of the cellar full of provisions, and moie than enough in the bank to take care of me if I lived to be a hundred; and before I knew it, I'd said aloud, 'l'll do it! I'll give one of those poor things a home, and I guess I can be a kind of a mother to it, if I am an old maid!' "It's surprising liow much company just the thought of having a little girl around has been, for I made up my mind, of course, it should bo a girl. Since then I've been kind of getting ready— and—well, here I ami" By this time little Miss Dilloway was wiping the perspiration from her face. She had talked au unusually long time for her. "My friend," said the matron, who had been listening with interest to her story, "I am sure you will be blessed in sharing your home with one of God's un fortunate ones. Come with me and let me show you my 'family.' " She led the way up a broad flight of stairs. Miss Dilloway soon found herself in a large room, which contained so many children that the first sight of them almost took her breath away. She had expected to see a dozen or twenty, perhaps, but here were surely a hun dred. How could she choose from among so many. Over in the corner one of the older girls was trotting a baby. Miss Dillo way 'was very fond of babies, and Bhe stopped instinctively to speak to this one. It looked up into her sweet face con fidingly, and then held out her small arm toward her. She took it eagerly, and pressed the little form close. "I do love babies so!" she said half apologetically, to the matron, who was looking on with a smile, "i often say to the folks at home that I don't envy them their husbands, their big houses, or their rick-rack, as they call therr ornaments nowadays; but I do envy them their babies. They seem to think it's queer, I don't see why old maids shouldn't love babies as well's married folks." "Why not adopt a baby." Miss Dilloway l*ad intended to adopt an older child, and the suggestion that the should take an infant took her so much by surprise that she hastily re turned the baby to its young nurse, and sat down in a chair. Then a strange thing happened; the baby's lip began to quiver; tears gathered in its eyes, and its arms were held out again appealing!)- to Miss Dilloway. She took it instantly, and asked the matron: "She ain't more'n six months old, is she?" "He was just seven months old yester day." "He! Is it a boy?" she almost screamed, looking at the child as if he were to blame for not beiug a girl. The baby seemed to realize that an important moment in his young life had arrived. Ho patted Miss Dilloway's cheek with his fat palm and then snuggled close to her side. Miss Dilloway cleared her throat. "Well, I never liked boys very much after they're grown up, but if I should take this one, I guess I should get used to his ways before that time. Do you anything about his parents?" "Yes. They were very nice people. The father died only eight months ago, r.'nd the mother was so affected by his death that she never rallied after the baby came. The littlo fellow seems to be wholly alone in the world." Miss Dilloway's mind was made up from that moment, and early in the af noon Mr. McQuestion, for the first time in his life, lost his voice as little Miss Dilloway got off the train with a baby in her aims. Of course the people of Rentham were surprised. It seems a very amusing thing to some of them that Miss Dilloway should adopt a baby, but those who knew her well and loved her, commend ed her worthy act and rejoiced in her new happiness—for happy she certainly was. It was certainly a beautiful sight to see Miss Dilloway with the baby in her arms. The child crowed, cooed and was unmistakably very fond of his foster parent. Donations of slips, stc~ . ad sacks for baby's wear came in st daily. One thoughtful neighbor sent a cradle. Children came in with toys in numerable. Miss Dilloway held council with the mothers in the neighborhood as to the merits of anise and the demerits of soothing syrup. Advice was freely given, but often of such a contradictory nature that poor Miss Dilloway was puzzled. Nevertheless, baby grew and prospered, and made sunshine in the lit tle old lady's heart. One day, about three months after baby's advent in Rentham, a very un usual sound rang through Miss Dillo way's dwelling. There were one, two, three clangs of the brass knocker on tile seldom used front door. When, with baby in her arhis. she opened the door, she faced a tall, well- built man of substantial appearance in more senses than one, with streaks of gray in his hair. The man glanced at the baby and -said, without ceremony: "I guess I've struck the right place. This is Miss Dilloway, ain't itt" Tremulously, holding tho baby very tight, and with an awful foreboding at her heart, she answered: "Ye—es. Will you walk in?" "Well, yes, I reckon I will, seeing I've come all this distance to see the lit tle fellow. There, now, don't get scared I I've no notion of taking him from you. I shouldn't know what to do with him if I had him." Miss Dilloway's face continued to ex press astonishment. "Well, well," said the man,"l guess I'd better introduce myself. I'm Reuben Russell, late of Minnesota, at present of nowhere in particular. I got to Preston three days ago, and went to work the first thing to hunt up my niece Clary. I didn't know she was dead until I reached the place where she used to board. I hadn't heard from her for over a year, and I was pretty well taken aback when they told me of her death and her hus band's, so nigh together. "But I was more taken aback when I heard she'd left a baby, and that it had been sent to an asylum. Clary Dayton's baby, my nevvy—or grand-nevvy- -in an asylum! "I traveled pretty quick to the place, and I don't know whether I was glad or sorry when I heard it had been adopted. Anyway, what I came here for's to see the little chap—look round here, sonny—and to make some arrangement with you about his—board—or whatever you call it. I don't want Clary's child to be living on charity." "But it isn't charity, sir, it isn't charity! You see it belongs to me." Miss Dilloway said this with a half-vin dicative air. "I had the papers regu larly made out." "Well, by and by, when he grows up, he'll have to bo educated, and clothes bought for him. I'll start him a bank account. What's his name?" "I—l've always called him 'Baby.' I haven't thought of any name yet," an swered Miss Dilloway, not just liking this "look ahead," when this bit of hu manity in her arms would need education aud boy's clothes. "Land o' liberty! Clary's baby with out a name! Well, well. Ahem! Wh— what do you say to calling him after me—lieuben?" •-*1 don't know that there's any objec tion," said thu little woman, somewhat meekly. "Well, you think it over. I've got a little business down this way that needs looking after, so I shall probably be round here for a day or two, and I'll come in again." Mr. Russell's business must have re quired more "looking after" than he at first supposed, for it detained him in Reitham more than a week. There seened to be an hour or two in each day. however, when it did not require his attention, and these were spent in "looking into seo how Clary's baby was j getting on." I would not have got on at all if Miss I Diloway had not been present to inter- ' few, when gingerbred horses and highly cobred sugar soldiers fouud their way ! fr«m Mr. Russell's pockets to baby's 1 miuth. Something was brought for ; bfbv's amusement at. every visit—a : jcnping-jack, a rattle or a woolly j sleep—until Mr. Russell and his ' snail grand-nephew became very good ftends. Mr. Russell returned to i'res toi, and was gone just two weeks. At tie end of that time he might have been s«a one afternoon going toward Miss Ullowav's residence, boldly pushing a hindsome baby carriage before him. lie was hardly seated in Miss Dillo way's small sitting-room before he cleared hs throat and began: "I've beeu thinking a good deal sinco I left here a fortnight ago, Miss Dillo vay, and I found I'd become a good deal attached to—to the baby; and—ahem! —it struck me that, as you're alone in tie woild, and I'm alone, and as the laby seems to kind o' belong to both of 13, it wouldn't be a bad idea to made one ftmily. What do jou say?" Perhaps what one of the neighbors said a short time after may throw some light cn Miss Dilloway's answer. "She's sixty, and he's sixty-five if he's i day; and it's too ridiculous to see them together—with that baby!"— Youth's Companion. Manhattan Sold for $25. According to popular tradition the island of Manhattan was sold in 1624 for the sum of $25. The conclusion one would naturally jump to would be that in the light of subsequent events the sum was a ridiculously small price. But let as suppose that $25 had been placed out at seven per cent, interest in tho year 1624 and had been allowed to compound up to the year 1884, how much would it then havcamounted to? Something in the neighborhood of $1,600,000,000. Is the Island of Manhattan worth much more than that to-day?— Pharmaceutical Era. Don't Sleep With Open Mouth!. "Do you know why so many people get deaf as they grow older?" said a doctor. "It is because they sleep with their mouths open. Any man or woman who does this persistently for years will finally grow deaf. But that is not the only disadvantage of so sleeping. It is the cause of a score of aflections of the the throat and lungs, not to speak of snotittjj."—JS«v> Qrltam Timet-Democrat. Terms—*l.Bs iiunce; *1.50 after Three Months SCIENTIFIC AND IND^M* Metal shingles are here, i Copper is melted by eloctf A railroad car registers tuition of the road. A. saw has been designed utting IroA, mild steel or other met fairly iargc sections. All the bridges over the B a * Rochester, N. Y., are tolerated aereafter by electricity. There are now 1034 com) loco motives at work or building being In England, 330 in Germani eight In North America. The steam-hammer used iqng the irmor plates of Bethlehem, ], has a plunge equal in weight to ljs. The »nvil that receives this blowbs 1400 tons. To prevent the evaporatiowater in sre pails it has been suggeshat fif teen to twenty drops of oil form a :oating sufficient to obviac diffi culty. There has been invented rfiine for jutting tubes of paper fojl-boxes. The operations are all auftic and She work is said to be Hy P er " formed. Proprietors of the Pullmair inven tion report that paper car fels have run 400,000 miles under theirs, while the averago running pow< au iroa wheel is but 55,000 miles. During magnetic storms q currents on the British lines of telph have oeen known to attain of forty milliamperes. This' stronger than the usual working curf- American shoe machinery 3 heen ln " Produced into Leicester, jland, 'aas created considerable i res '- atnnu o iho manufacturers. Awr ' n a Man ihester paper says that "pricans arc miles ahead" in shoe macpry i Fish are attracted by light ! :he same as insects and l£> anc ' " ' Jas : r>°cn found that the placl°f aa electric : lamp of high power in tlf oa i cv. Nat a part not frequented by fl cause." mem bers of the tinny tribe flock in great numbers. Lima (Ohio) oil is be) used success fully in a number of Piourg mills and factories. Rolling miJwners favor it because it docs not oxi<e the iron, and for that reason it is th<jht that natural gas will soon be superjed by it. The oil is shipped from tlieCld in tank cars, and a movement is < foot to build a pipe line to that city., Dr. Armand Jeann(M a young phy sician of Paris, is tho' a ' es '' 'he as a consumption cu# discoverer. His cure is by inhalat)n- His apparatus consists of a small tabula brass boiler, connected with a brass »an with a lid. When in operati'U, from finder the lid escape vapors ivhich sprdd about the room, one of the parts of vliich is prus sic acid. An ingenious Frenchmaj has discov ered a process of recoveriig the tin con tained in the wash watcrsof silk which have been weighted, and 10 has accord ingly received fiom the Irench Society for the Encouragement if Natural In dustry the prize allotted foithe utilization of residual substances. I. is estimated that Lyons alone will edict an annual economy of $60,000. Pineapple Juice for Dijhtlicria. "Nature has her own reme<y for diph theria," says a Chicago mai. "It is nothing more nor less than pineapple juice. I declare that I have found it to be a specific. It will cure the worst case that ever mortal flesh was aftlcted with. I did not discover the remidy. The colored people of the Soutli did that. ' Two years ago I was engaged in lumber ing in Mississsippi. One of ny children was down with diphtheria, aid the ques tion of his death was simply .he problem for a few hours to determine. An. old col ored man, to whom my wifahad shown some kindnesses, called at thehouse, and laying he heard of my little one's ill ness, urged me to try pineapple juice. The old fellow declared that ii Louisiana, where he came from, he had 3een it tried a million times, and that in each case it had proved effective. So I secured a pineapple and squeezed 018 the juice. After a while we got some of it down the boy's throat, and in a short ume he was cured. The pineapple should be thor oughly ripe. The juice is of so corrosive a nature that it will cut out the diph theric mucus. I tell you it is a sure cure." Abont Glaciers. Glaciers are composed of frozen snow and not masses of clear ice as is sup posed by those who have never seen them. On the surface there is tine, powdcr-liko snow, below that it is coarser, and beneath all is a thick stratum crushed and squeezed together by the pressure of the mass above. The contour of the mountaius is well adapted for keeping the accumulations of snow and when the mass is coagulated suffi ciently it begins to flow out in the form of' a tongue. At the surface the ice moves faster than below where friction retards it. In some cases glaciers move a few inches in a day, but in others they move several feet in the same time. Loose rock and debris of varying size collect on the surface of the glaciers, and this is carred down the mountain side until a valley is reached, where the ice melts, leaving the debris to cover the surface of the laud.—ifosUw Tranter u>t. NO. 32. SILENCE AND SOLITODB. Gods of the desert! Ye are they We shun from childhood's earliest, breath. Our passing joys are but your prey; Ye wait the hours from birth to death. Over soft lawns where blossoms-, sleep. Under warm trees where love born. I see your haughty shadows creep, And wait to meet ye there, forlorm. Afar on ancient sands ye rest, Carven in stone, where ancient thought Wrapt ye in terrors— shapes unblest. Dreadful by might of ages wrought. But not alone on Egypt's shores Sleeps the great desert: every where Where gladness lived and lives no more, There is a desert of despair. Strange messengers! Your brows of gloom Haunt every creature born of earth; Ye follow to the darkened room; Ye watch the awful hour of birth. Ye show the lovely way-side rose. Whose antique grace is born anew, To eyes of grief. Grief only knows How tender is the sunset's hue. Gods of the desert! By your hand Through the sad waters are we brougat Into a high and peaceful laud To drink of fountains else unsought. jinnie Fields, in. Harper's Magazine. HUMOR OP THE DAY. A soft snap—The baby's bite. A trunk line—"Handle with care." Bound to fill a drunkard's grave—The i sexton. — Puck. The man who deems his house his cas tle has the moat in his eye. One of the greatest of home comforts is the shirt which isn't made at home.— Puck. If you want to flatter a man, tell him he can't be flattered.— Philadelphia Time*. A stroke of misfortune —The one we have all along been using against Yale." —Harvard Lampoon. The fact that riches have wings may be the reason that they euable a man to "fly high."— Washington Pott. The colleges are not quite gone daft over athletics. They are still in posses sion of their faculties.— Pudc. There is nothing a man enjoys more than complaining of his great responsi bilities. — Indianapolis Journal. "Is your teacher a big man?" "Strap pin'," murmured Johnny, as he uncon j sciously felt of the sore spot, —liarcard t Tjitpwn. Judge—"What do you do during the week?', Tramp—"Nothing." "And on Sunday?" "Then 1 take a day off." Tejras Sittings. Teacher—"How would you describe Henry VIII. of E.igland?" Student — "I would describe him as a professional widower." — Harper's Bazar. Before you start out to attain a seat on the highest pinnacle of fame bear in mind that it runs up to a pretty sharp point.— lndianapolis Journal. The men who do not agree on any pos sible points of doubt are the ones that seem to find tbe most pleasure iu each other's society.— Washington Post. Along the shore the city girl Will soon be making freckles, And to the hotel her papa Will ante up the shekels. —Cloak lierten. "Some people," said a clever observer speaking of an oversensitive friend tb«s other day, "leave their feelings lying around for other people to 3tep on."— Boston. Traveller. They were talking about trees. "My favorite," she said, "is the oak. It is so noble, so magnificent in its strength. But what is your favorite?" "Yew," he replied. — l'ittnb urg Dispatch. There is a man in Atchison who is always good and kind and thoughtful of others, but he never gets any credit for it. lie is so homely that people seem to expect goodness of him.— Atchison (Kan.) Globe. How hard it is to believe a man after we have been lying to him ourselves. It has sometimes happened that an habitu ally untruthful man has kept up his reputation after death by lying instate. —Texas Siftings. Metamorphosis: An eminent surgeon says that with four cuts and a few stitches ho can alter a man's face so his own mother would not know him. Any news paper can do that with only one cut.— Cleveland Plain Dealer. "Clara became old almost in a moment the other night." "Nonsense!" "Not at all. She was sitting in the parlor with her young man when her father en tered. Her vouth departed immedi ately."—New Tor't Sun. "Like a woman!" "Like a man!" « But discriminate, who can? Let's to truth all homage render. Own, if we would be precise. Every weakness, every vice- All are of one common gender. Puck. ~\Vhat did the lawyer say to you, Bridget?" "He axed me did I know there was brass enough in me face to make a good-sized kettle, and I told him, shure, thin there was sauce enough in his tongue to fill it, the ould haythen. —Chicago News. "For all wc know there really may be a man in the moon," said the leather drummer. "There is," said the hard ware drummer, who was still indignant over having been sent to the top floor. "I leaned out of my window and had quite a talk with him last night."—in dianaaoli* JournaL
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers