SULLIVAN REPUBLICAN
W. M, CHENEY, Publisher.
VOL. X.
There arc now 3715 places in the
ITnited States which have & population oi
xnore than 1000.
Tolstoi, the Russian philosopher, says
that the least complicated and shortest
rule of morals that he knows is to get
others to work for you as little as possi
ble and work yourself as much as possi
ble for them ; make the fewest call upon
the services ot your neighbors, and ren
der them the maximum number of ser
vices yourself.
Few people perhaps are aware of the
fact, believes the Boston Transcript,
that there was once a Postmistress-
General. She did not servo iu this
country or iu the present century, but
the fact that a woman ever served in
that capacity is indeed remarkable.
Denmark was the home of this remark
able woman, whose name was Countess
Gyldenlore, or Dorothea Krag, as she
was called during her term of office,
which extended from the year 1703 to
1711. The present postal system in
that country, waic'.i Is considered one of
the best in the world, was inaugurated
by her.
Professor Jauiesou, of Brown Univer
sity, is lecturing on the historic colonial
mansions ou the James River in Vir
ginia, especially those at Shirley, West
over and Upper and Lower Brandon.
This region and the country about Will
iamsburg, which the professor designates
as "the quaintest placa in the English
portion of America,"was once a virgin
field of discovery for the seeker after old
colonial furniture. Many a rare find of
ancient mahogany tables and sideboards
has been made thereabouts, and quaint
Chippendale chairs used to be found
there in numbers—interesting objects of
treasures-trove that could be secured for
the proverbial song. But time has
changed all that, and such articles when
discovered there now arc held at fair
price. It is said that much of this sort
of colonial furniture may be obtained
nowadays in parts of Kentucky, rare
pieces having been inherited by the
present generation af Kentuckians from
their Virsrinia ancestors.
People who think th:it the free-pass
business is carried to extremes iu tho
United States should note how they do
it iu Russia. The Railroad Gazette says
that the Russian railroads have been ac
customed to give free passes not only to
their employes, but to relative of their
employes, a practice which may have
been heard on this side of the Atlantic.
The term "relatives," however, has been
found to be extremely elastic, and re
cently the Great Russian Company put
its foot down and issued positive orders
that hereafter passes will be granted to
no other relatives of employes thau their
wives, though a trifling reduction of
seventy per cent, on the prices of tickets
will be made to parents, brothers and
sisters of employes and of their wives,but
all aunts, cousins and stepmothers must
pay full fares. If your brother receives
a salary of as much as I?7S0 from the
company, you can get your disccunt only
on tlrst-cla«s tickets; if he has from £l5O
to $750, you have second-class tickets;
if less than £l5O, third-class tickets.
The idea of the bicycle railroad finds
favor at Seattle. A lino is soon to be
constructed between that city and Taco
ma. The contract calls for its comple
tion within a year. The following de
scription is given ol the road: "There
will be two tracks, each of a single line
of steel rails. A timber will be laid ou
the ground across the width of both
tracks at intervals of twenty feet, an 1
across these, leugthwise of the track,
lOxl'J-inch stringers will be laid, to
which the rails will be spiked. To each
end of the sills will be bolted upright
timliers 2xlß inches and eighteen feet
high, with Jxti-inch br.tcas. These up
rights will lie connected overhead by a
cap, which will support a ii6-inch
wooden guide-rail, directly above eacn
line of rail*. The cars will ruu on
wheels under their centre ou the
line of rail*, and, when running ou a
straight track, will hu held upright I»y_
their own itnpetU". When rounding
curves, however, the cars will be held
upright by two ruooet wheels MIHXO 1 to
their rool* and rutr.un • one on i ich side
of the guide-rail, while a third rubber
wheel will revolve :i i the underside
ol this rail, pressing .i; liint it and keep
ing it In po-itiuo. I> i intended in the
com*e «.f a few years t>. replace the tiui
Iters with "tr-1 super**tucture. Steam
fiowei will IH- IIM I, bit ultimately elet
tricity will be the motive power."
A COLDEN HOUR.
A beckoning spirit of gladness seemed
afloat.
That lightly danced in laughing air before
us;
The earth was all in tune and you a not*
Of Nature's happy chorus.
'Twas like a vernal morn, yet overhead
The leafless boughs across the lane were
knitting:
The ghost of some forgotten Spring,wo said.
O'er Winter's world comes flitting.
Or was it Spring herself, that, gone astray,
Beyond the alien frontier chose to tarry?
Or but some bold outrider of tho May,
Some April-emissary?
The apparition faded on tho air.
Capricious and incalcu able comer—
Wilt thou too [>ass, and leave my chill days
bare,
And fall'n my phantom Summer?
—William Watson, in the Spectator.
THE RUNAWAY.
BY PATIENCE STAPJ.ETON.
. | * . . OULD they put her
I I AI/ in the asylum," she
lii i"\/.1/ wondered, "if they
1 T j y[V caught her?"
Si | 'J JJ J Polks would sure
t I ly think she was
\|[ I crazy.
She stopped at
III4 1 "TaI t. the stone wall to
y*i V rest ' an( * looked
back timorously at
' arailiar
Par behind her streched the meadow,
a symphony of olive and green in the
iate fall. Here and there the sunken
boulder stood soldiery, golden rod, or
berry bushes clothed now in scarlet and
gold. At intervals in the long slope
stood solitary trees, where fluttering,
brittle leaves fell in the gentle, chill air.
Iu summer, time she remembered well the
haymakers rested in the shade, and
the jug with ginger water she made for
the men was kept there to be cool.
She seemed as she sat there to re
member everything. The house was all
right, the was sure of that; tho key was
under the kitchen door mat, tho fire was
out in the stove and the cat locked in
the barn.
She held her work hardened hand to
her side, panting a little, for it was a
good bit of a walk across the meadow,
and she was eighty years old on her last
birthday. The cows feeding looked
homelike and pleasant.
"Goodbye, critters," she said aloud;
"meny's the time I've druv' ye home an'
milked ye, an' I alius let ye eat by the |
way, nor never hurried ye as the boys
done."
With a farewell glance she went on
again, smoothing as she walked the
scattered locks of gray hair falling under
the pumpkin hood and keeping her
black scant gown out of the reach of the
briar*. Across another field, then
through a leafy lane where the wood
was hauled in winter, then out through
a gap in a stump fence, with its great
branching arms like a petrified octopus,
to the dusty high road.
Not a soul in sight in the coming twi
light. John, the children and the scold
ing wife who made her so unhappy,
would not be home for an hour yet, for
East Mills was a long drive.
Down the steep hill went the brave
little figure, followed by an old shadow
of itself iu the waning light, and by the
tiny stones that rolled so swiftly they
passed her often and made her look be
hind with a start to see if a pursuer was
coming.
"TheyM put me iu the asylum, sure,"
she muttered wildly as she trudged
along.
At the foot of the hill she sat down
upon an old log and waited for the
train.
Across the road, guarded by a big
sign, "Look out for the engine," rau
two parallel iron rails that wero to be
her road when the big mouster should
come panting around the curve.
At last the dull rumble sounded, a
shrill whistle, and she hurried to the
track, waving her shawl as a signal.
This, in the conductors' vernacular,
was a cross-roads station, where ho was
used to watch for people waving articles
frantically. The train stopped and the
passeiiger was taken aboard. He noticed
she was a bright eyed old lady, very ueat
and precise.
"How furf" he asked.
"Hostio."
•'Oil there in the momin'," he mid,
kindly, waiting for the money, as she
opened a queer little reticule, where,
under her knitting, wrapped in a clean
cotton handkerchief, was her purse with
her cavings of long year* —the little
aunt* Sam had sent her when he first be
gun to prosper in the West, and some
money she hud earned herself by kuittiug
and berry pick lug.
At a cross road, as they went swiftly
on, she saw the old sonel horse, the
rattling wagon ami John and his family
driving hoinew»rd. Hhe drew back
with a little cry, fearing he micbt see
her and stop tin- train, but they * ut ou
•o last that could not be, and '.he old
horse jogged into the woods, and John
never thought his old Aunt Hannah, his
charge for twenty long years, was run
uing away.
At Itoston a kindly conductor bought
hei a through ti< ket lor lietcw.
"It's a long |<>uruey lor au old lady
Uk« you," he said.
"But I'm peart ol my age," the said
LAPORTE, PA., FRIDAY, APRIL 29, 1892.
anxiously; I never lied a day's sickness
»ince I was a gal."
"Going all the way alone?"
"With Providence," sho answered
brightly, alert and eager to help herself,
but sileut and thoughtful as the train
took her into strange landscape where
the miles where the landscape went so
swiftly it seemed like the past years of
her life as she looked back on them.
"Thy works are marvelous," she mur
mmed often, sitting, with her hands
folded, and few idle days had there been
in the world where she had sat and rested
so long.
In the day coach the people were kind
and generous, sharing their baskets with
her and seeing she changed cars right
and her carpetbag was safe. She was
like any of the dear old grandmas in
Eastern homes, or to grizzled men and
women like the memory of our dcSid
mother, as faint and far away as the scent
of wild roses in a hillside country bury
ing ground. She tended babies for tired
women and talked to the men of farming
and crops or told the children Bible
stories, but never a word she said of her
self, not one.
On again, guided by kindly hands
through the great bewildering city by
the lake, and now through yet a strange
land. Tired and worn by night in the
uncomfortable seats her brave spirit be
gan to fall a little. As the wide, level
plains, lonely aud drear, dawned on her
sight she sighed often.
"It's a dre'ful big world," she said to
a gray bearded old farmer near her; "so
big I feel e'enmost lost in it, but," hope
fully, "across them deserts like this long
ago Providence sent a star to guide them
wiie men of the East, an' I hain't lost
my faith."
But as the day wore on, and still the
long, monotonous land showed no human
habitation, no oasis of green, her eyes
dimmed, something like a sob rose under
the black kerchief on the bowed should
ers, and the spectacles were taken off
with trembling hand and put away care
fully in the worn tin case.
"Be ye goin' fur, mother?" said the old
farmer.
He had bought her a cup of coffee at
the last station, and had pointed out on
the way things he thought might interest
her.
"To Denver."
"Wal, wal; you're from New England.
I*l be bound."
"From -Maine," slie answered; and
then she grew communicative, for she
was always a chatty old lady, and she
had possessed her soul iu silence so lo.ig,
and it was a relief to tell the story of her
weary years of waiting to a kindly lis
tener.
She told him all the relations she had
were two grand nephews and their fami
lies. That twenty years ago Sam (for
she had brought them up when their
parents died of consumption, that takes
so many of our folks) went out West. He
was always adventurous, and for ten
years .she did not hear from him; but
John was different and steady, and when
he came of she had given him her
farm, with the provision that she should
always have a home, otherwise he would
have gone away, too. Well for years
they were happy, then John married, and
his wife had grown to think her a bur
den as the years went on, and the chil
dren when they grew big did not care for
her; she felt that she had lived too long.
"I growed so lonesome," she said
pathetically, "it seems I couldn't|take
up heart to live day by day, anVyit I
knowed our folks was long lived. Ten
years back, when Sam wrote he was doiu'
fair an' sent me money. I beguu to
think of him; fur he was allusgenerous
an' kind, au' tlio gratefulest boy, an' so
I begau to save togo to him, fur I
knowed 1 could work my board for a
good many years to come. Fur throe
years he ain't hardly wrote, but I laid
that to the wild kentry he lived iu. 1
said b'ars and Injuns don't skeer me
none, fur when 1 was a gal up in
Aroostuk Kentry there was plenty of
both, an' as fur bullalers them horned
cattle don't skeer me uoiie, fur I've been
used to a farm alius. But the lone
sumucss of these medders has.sorter up
sot me and made me think every day Saui
was further off than I ever • calc'lated
ou."
"But what will you do if S au ain't in
Denver?" asked the farmer.
"I hev put my faith in Providence,"
she answered simply, anil the stranger
could nortnar that trust by any word of
warning.
He gave hor his addreis is he got oil
at the Nebraska liue, and told her to
seud him word if she needed help. With
a warm hand clasp he |iarted from her to
joiu the phantoms in her memory of
"folks that had been kiud to her, Uod
bless IUC," aud then the traiu was rum-•
bliag on.
Hut mauy of tiie passengers had lis
tened lo her story aud were interested,
aud they came to sit with her.
One pale, little lad in a seat iu front,
turned to look at her now and then aud
her smile. He was goiue to
the new country for health and wealth,
poor lad, ouly to tlud eternal re.tin the
suuny land, but his last days bright csed
by the reward for his thoughtful acU of
kindness,
"She probably brought th»*e N>y»
up," hi thought, "nu«l tUlilwl Uerlifu
(or them. I* tie to tile win wurle l, 1
WWdrrl Thriu ' UIHOt l*» •»"»
Ibe worlit l( tluit Im< «>." Hp • li«»u«ht of
h«i in.l took out hi* i»ii« ' l'liurtf»«<i
(II llltlf motley 111 it. too, evriy Ci-iit
inmli « liiif Imlt hi tit» »t iff, Igl tli»*
eofcu'twMßWi of * ijo'i't t|eei| wa «.ntli
tuiucibiujf. "I unyu i lnvu lk« ebtun
to do m«ny more," thought the lad, but
toning his worn overcoat.
He slipped on without a word at a
station and sent a telegram to Denver.
"To Samuel Blair"—for he had caught
the name from her talk—"Your Aunt
Hannah Blair is on the W. and W. train
coming to you."
It was only a straw, but a kindly
wind might blow it to the right one after
all.
When he was sitting there after his
message had gone on its way, she leaned
over and handed him a peppermint drop
from a package in her pocket.
"You don't look strong, dearie," sho
said, "hain't ye no folks with ye?"
•'None on earth."
"We're both lono ones," she smiled;
"an' how sad it be there ain't no one to
fuss over ye. Aur' be keerful of the
drafts, aud keep flannels alius on your
chist; that is good for the lungs."
"You are very kind to take an interest
in me," he smiled, "but I am afraid it
is too late."
Another night of weary slumber in the
cramped seats and then the plain began
to be dotted with villages, and soon ap
peared the straggling outskirts of a city,
the smoke of mills, the gleam of the
Platte River and a network of iron rails,
bright and shining, as the train ran
shrieking into the labyrinth of its des
tination.
"This is Denver," said the lad to her,
"and I'll look after you as well as I
can."
"I won't be no burden," she said
brightly. "I've twenty dollars yet, an'
that's a sight of money."
The train halted to let the eastward
bound express pass; there was an air of
excitement in the car, passengers getting
ready to depart, gathering up luggage
ond wraps, and some watching the new
comers and the rows of strange faces on
the outward bouud.
The door of the car slammed suddenly,
and a big bearded man with eager blue
eyes came down the aisle, looking sharply
from right to left. He had left Denver
on the express to meet this train. His
glance fell on the tiny black figure.
"Why, Aunt Hannah!" he cried, with
a break in his voice, aud she—she put
out her trembling hand and fell into the
big arms, tears streaming down the
wrinkled face.
"I knowed Providence would let me
find ye, Sam," she said brokenly, and no
| one smiled when the big man sat down
; beside her and with gentle hand wiped
her tears away.
'•Why, I've sent John twenty d t'w
j a month for live years for you," he said
! angrily, as she told him why she rat
! away, "and he said you could not write,
for you had a stroke and was helpless,
and I have written often and sent you
money. It's hard for a man to called his
i own brother a villain.
"We wun't, Sam," she said gently,
"but just furgit; and I wouldu't be a
burden to ye, fur I oau work yit, an' for
years to come."
"Work, indeed! don't I owe you
everything?" he cried. "And my wife
has longed for you to coine. There are
8.1 few dear old aunts iu this country,
they're prized, I tell you. Why, it's us
good as a royal court of arms to have a
dear handsome old woman like you for a
relation."
Then he found out who sent the tele
gram and paid the lad, who blushed and
stammered like a girl and did not waut
to take it.
"I suppose you want a job," said the
big man. "Well, I cau give you one.
I'm in the food commission business.
Uive you something light? Lots of your
sort, poor lad, out here. All the refer
ence 1 waut is that little kindness of
yours to Aunt Hauuah."
"Here's the depot, Aunt Hannah, and
you won't see 'bars and Injuns' nor the
buffaloes; sunniest city you ever set your
dear eyes on."
He picked up tho carpet bag, faded
and old fashioned, not a bit ashamed of
it, though it looked us if Noah might
have carried it to tho ark.
They said goodby, and {he last seen of
her was her happy old face beaming
from a carriage window as she rolled
away to what all knew would bo a
pleasant home for all her waning years.
New i'ork Herald.
The Astronomers Are Puzzled.
Due of the most mysterious caanges
witnessed in the ever-changing solar sys
tem is the variation in the brightness of
the moons of Jupiter. Two of the four
satellites occasionally cross the planet's
disc as dark objects, although it is known
that their sunny sides arc presented to us
and should appear no less brilliantly il
luminated than the piaoct itself. The
third and fourth satellites often make
these dark transit* ami the first is so rue
time* seen as a brown object, but tho
second has nevtr l»eeu noticed otherwise
than as a bright disc. The phenomenon
still remains without satisfactory e*plaua
tion.—St. l.ouis Republic.
Masterpiece of Humes* Art.
Prince liitmarck has just received a
valuable present fruui the Herman colony
in liurmali. It consists of a centre piece
of solid »>!\er two fre» long and three
feet high The pedestal is entirely cov
ered with beautifully worked figure.-, and
at each voruer are artistically wrought
dragon-, each of which carries a huge
ivory I lull, winch is bellowed out and
decorated Willi Murine »e carvings. I'tn*
gift is prunouuceit by etperts to Im< tlm
' moat |wrlect masterpiece "I Burmese
art industry which has ever reached
KiUopt'.-- N«W York Poet,
Terms—sl.2s in Advance; 51.50 after Three Months
SCIENTIFIC AND INDUSTRIAL.
Electric welding is now applied l«
the work of manufacturing iron wheelfl.
Zinc expands up to the melting point.
A bar of h.fk>mcred zinc six inches long
v.-i 11 expand 1 1-100 of an inch in rais
ing the temperature 100 degrees F.
The average mortality of unmarried
men between the ages of twenty and
twenty-five is 1174 iu every 100,000,
while that of married men is only
597.
It is stated that a German firm has
perfected a means of making a profitable
disposition of sawdust. An acid is
mixed with the sawdust and tho whole
mass molded into blocks or any other
form, resulting in a fine material for
building purposes.
A new machine is being used in
England to level the tips and nails in
the bottoms of boots and shoes and to
produce a fiue polish and finish hitherto
impossible by hand work. The machine
is arranged to run by power and is firmly
placed on an iron base, with counter
shafting and pulleys.
A design of an electric boat, pro
pelled by a sea-water battery, has been
exhibited before the French Academy of
Scieuces. The battery plates are under
the boat, in the form of a keel, and the
current generated drives a motor oper
ating the screw. The plates (copper or
zinc) are raised or lowered by means of
pulleys.
In the Electricity Building at the
World's Fair, Chicago, there will be
forty thousand panes of glass, or mc
than iu any other exposition structure.
This building will be especially con
spicuous at night, as, owing to its ex
tensive glass surface, the brilliancy of
its electrical exhibit will be strikiugly
visible from the outside.
Thomas Median says that striking
variations in plants occur at times sud
denly by bud variation as well as .by
seeds. The curled-leaved weeping
willow suddenly assumed this character
on a tree of the ordinary kind; the red
sweet potato is also a bud variation from
the ordinary white variety; the double
flowered tuberose is believed to have
originated by bud variation.
One of the most attractive of the ex
hibits at the Frankfurt Exposition is
that in which the process of manufactur
ing the celebrated Sevres chiua is shown
to the public. Bohemian gil ls, attired
in their national costume, mnuipulate
the plastic cloy and wax int» Ute-like
leaves and birds. The mass is then
placed iu a furnace and the heat- is so
regulated as to solidify the substance
without the least fracture. A second
furnace evaporates all that is left of the
wax, leaving a very friable dead white
china flower. On this the coloring artist
reproduces the delicate shading of the
natural flower and the article is again
placed in the furnace to burn the color.
A Philadelphia scientist has made an
analysis of the brains of a gordla, and
the results of his investigation are calcu
lated to give little comfort to those who
have maintained there is only a "missing
link" between man and the gorilla in the
chain of evolution. It was found that
the brain of the gorrilla was really of a
much lower order of developeuient than
that of the ourang-outang or the chim
panzee. The gorilla's frontal lobe, in
stead of being round and convex, was
pointed aud concave, and the lower
portion of the brain, visible in the
chimpanzee as well as man, is missing.
The gorilla, instead of standiug at the
head of the monkey tribe, is lower than
nt least two other members of it.
No Wonder Indians Are l>yiii£ Out.
The conversation had drifted onto
Indians, ami apropos of the topic a lum
berman in the office remarked that at the
last camp on Prairie Hiver, from which
he had just returned, he had seen a
goodly uroup of these noble aborigines
camped near the lumber shanties.
"They came to look after a horse," said
he. "Lost a horse/" "No,we lost one;
got killed, and they came down to cut
him up." "What for!" "Why, to eat
him. They stayed right by the carcass
aud hung up ami dried every pound of
meat ou him. IJucer haw they found it
out. The horse hadn't been dead twenty*
four hours before the whole tribe were
after him; crow* cou dn't have done bet
ter."
••That's nothing," said an old logger
standiug by. "I.ast winter six horses
died in our camp of epizootic, aud I'll
be hanged if they didn't pick the bouea
of every one of them clean. There is no
trouble iu accounting for the rapid re
duction of the Indian population when
you kuow what they eat. —Minneapolis
(Minn.) Lumberman.
f'rnlt Prices in Pioneer Hays.
The early fruit growers of Oregon had
a wonderful market for a few years at
San PrauciM-o. Iu ISM 300 bushels ol
apples were shipped from Oregon to
California, auil returned a net prolit of
from $1.50 to $9 |wr pound. Iu 1h53
the shtpnicu.s rote to tl.)00 bushels,
whn h sold at from to *.1 1 » * bushel.
Iu l*.M> the shipment* ro»e to 'JO 0(H)
buns. Kvcu iii tiii* year big price» were
received, and for choice fruit fancy flg«
lire* oil! lined, one bo* of K»npil*
.<pit/riitK-i - oltiim fur »itlo. The Pali
fill mans pUutr I apple trees, mi. i altei
iMto the tliipmruiH u( apple* from Ore
AOU IK .01 ||» drelll.l Apple ljil!B({ Mas
o«>r« profitable Hutu gold mini it); for the
loot lialf do/ u )r*i« of the industry V)
Kugci i (iuard.
NO. 29,
■WHEN THE COWS COME HOM(
With the klingle, klangle,
Far down the dusky dingle
The cows are coming home.
Now sweet and clear, and faint and low, *"
The airy tinklings come and go,
Like chimlngs from a far off tower.
Or patterings of an April shower
That makes the daises grow.
Koling, kolang, kolingelingle.
Far down the darkening dingle
The cows comes nlowly home. 7
And old time friendß and twilight plays,
And starry nights and sunny days,
Come trooping up the misty ways
When the cows come home.
With jingle, jangle, jingle.
Soft tones that swelling mingle.
The cows are coming home;
Malvine, and Pearl and Florimel.
DeKamp, Red Hose and Gretchen Schell,
Queen Be«s and Sylph and spangled Sue,
Across thetield I hear their 100-o-o
And clang of silver bell.
Goling, golang, golingelingle.
With faint, far sounds that mingle,
The cows come slowly home.
And mother songs of long gone years,
And baby joys and childish tears,
And youthful hopes and youthful fears, '
When the cows come home.
With ringle, raugle, ringle.
By twos and threes and single,
The cows are coming home. ,
Through violet air we see the town.
And the summer sun a-skipping down.
And the maple in the hazel glade
Throws down the path a longer shade,
And the hills are growing brown
Toring, torang, toringleringle.
By threes and fouis and single,
The cows come slowly home.
The same sweet sound of wor.lless psalm,
The same sweet June-day rest and calm.
The same sweet smell of buds and balm,
When the cows come home.
With tinkle, tanklt', tinkle.
Through fern and periwinkle.
The cows are coming home;
A-loitering in the checkered stream.
Where the sun's rays glance and gleam,
Clarine, Peachbloom, Phebe and Phillis,
Stand knee-deep in the creamy lilies.
In a drowsy dream.
Tolink, tolank, tolinklelinkle,
O'er banks with buttercups
The cows come slowly home.
And up through memory's deep ravine
Come the brook's old song and its old-time
sheen,
And the crescent of the silver queen,
When the cows come home.
Withklingle, kl angle, klingle,
With 100-oo and moo-oo and lingle,
The cows are coming home;
And over there, on the Merlin hill.
Sounds the plaintive cry of the whip-poor
will,
And the dew-drops lie on the tangled vines,
And over the poplars Venus shines
And over the silent mill.
Koling, kolang,
AVith a ting-a-ling and ajA \
The cows come slowly home.
Let down the bars, let in the train *
Of long-gone song and Bowers and ra ..
For dear old times come back again
When the cows come home.
HI'MOR OF THE DAY.
Startling figures—Ghosts.
A catch phrase—Sick him I
A ruun may be lantern-jawed and yet
his face never light up. —Kaston Free
I'ress.
The astronomer who has made a tele
scopic discovery is naturally proud of his
good looks.
The moon is above all human follies
nnd always looks down on lovers.—El
uiira Gazette.
A coal dealer can't be a musician. Ho
can never learn to run the scale accurate
ly.—Binghnmton Republican.
The most dangerous "charge of tho
light brigade" is that made by the gas
office clerk.—Columbus l'ost.
When •» man is "beside himself' he
generally demonstrates that he doesn't
like the compauy.—Boston Courier.
Plenty of tall men are "short," loose
men "tight," co d men "warm" and big
men "small."—Puilai'ilphia Record.
From the prescriptions of some physi
cians, it is evident that thev have for
gotten their boyhood.—Columbus Post.
"Will the comiug man use both
arms'" asks a scientist. "Yes, if he
can trust the girl to handle the reins."—
I'tiihtdelphia I'ress.
Prominence hits its drawbacks. Tho
drum major doesn't see near as much of
the parade as the mau on tho eurbstoue.
—lndianapolis News.
Anarchist—"We expect to argue our
cause with bombs, sir!" ijuiet Citizen
—"A bomb, my friend, is an argument
that has been rxpioded long ago."—
Chicago Tribune
Jobson (at the restaurant) "Waiter,
give me some chicken talid aud a buttle
of >oda." Jagsoa—"Give me the
same." Jobson (who is from llontou)-
••Excuse me; it caunot be the same
my, similar."—filiou aud Leather Re
porter.
liuliiuch—"How is that little mining
scheme of your getting along I Any
■lone) in a'" Wooden—"Any inouey
in it' Well, I should say so! All of
mini , all >f my wife's, and about fifty
thouaaud thai 1 got from uiy friends."—
Httstou Courier
A World's K.tir envoy to Africa as
tuuished the natives with an Kdisou
lihonvitfiaph and talkiug dolls.