Sullivan republican. (Laporte, Pa.) 1883-1896, February 15, 1895, Image 1
SULLIVAN JSBFE REPUBLICAN. W. M. CHENEY, Publisher. VOL. XIII. New York, Paris and Berlin com bined lack forty-two square miles of having as great an area as London. Among tho European countries Ger many by far outstrips her neighbors in ths number of electric railways, both in operation and course of con struction. As the year 1895 advances, it will, in all probnbility, be found that man ufacturing, commercial and agricul tural interests will show signs of re turning prosperity. Cadetships to Woolwich and Sand burst, iu England, to St. Cyr, in France, to the German, Austrian and Russian military academies, are all obtained by open competitive examin ations or by appointments, tempered by the same. Night refuges iu Paris shelter the art?. Tho nine establishments in 1833 were used by 137 actors, forty-three singers, seventy-one musicians, twelve pianists, twenty architects, 393 artists (painters), fourteen authors and eight een journalists. Twenty years ago Dr. E. H. Dewey, of Meadville, l'enn., wrote a book proving that the way to be healthy was togo without breakfast. The 112 cult has lived since then, and, accord ing to the New London (Conn.) Day, thero are more than one hundred per sons in that town who cat no break fast. The proportion of women suicides to that of men is 6mall; whether be cause their moral courage is less, their moral courage more or their woes lighter, it would bo interesting to know. It may, however, be safely as sumed that tlia last named is not the reason, observes the New Orleans Pic ayune. The importance of forestry is urged by Professor W. T. Thistleton Dyer on account of tho probability that the supply of timber may ba exhausted before that of coal. It further ap pears in view of our completo depen dence upon the products of the vege table kingdom for the accessaries of our existence. The proposition of some romantic writers to put their romances to the test by actually living through tho ex periences described should be dis couraged, maintains the Chicago Rec ord. Anyone trying to live the ex periences of a romance of the modern sensational school would come into contact with the police before he had lived past the first chapter. One of the tendencies of the age in the way of railroad improvement, noted by the Now York Telegram, is the increased length of rails. The Penn sylvania has laid a few miles of sixty foot rails, and the Lehigh Valley has been trying forty-five-foot rails. Now the Columbus Hocking Valley and Toledo will lay a few miles of the sixty-foot rails as an experiment. The utility of the long rail is that it re quires fewer joints, and, in conse quence, affords, smooth riding. The growth of scholarships in the leading universities of this country is one of the best signs of educational progress, declares the San Francisco Chronicle. A scholarship can only bo obtained by a good student who has mastered his specialty, but at Cornell University the system is now tried of offering eighteen scholarships, each worth #2OO for two years, to freshmen who pass certain special examinations in addition to tho usual test for ma triculation. If many of our colleges spent less money on buildings and more on scholarships the work done would be greatly improved in quantity and quality. "Dime Novel" Beadle, the man who became famous as the publisher of "dime novels" long before cheap liter ature was so plentiful as it is now, died at residence in Cooperstown, N. Y., recently, announces tha New Or leans Picayune. Seeing tho immenso profit to be made on cheap and sensa tional literature, in 1853 Mr. Beadle established A printing ofllco for that purpose in New York, and thus became the forerunner of the mauy concerns which now flood the country with flashy stories —stories that fill the email boy's heart with delight and his eoul with crime. Parents and police who have been called onto discipline little boys whose heads have been turned by tho wild adventures of "Blue Mick, the Bowery Tough,' and stories of that ilk, hardly regartl Mr. Beadle as a public benefactor, but, on the other hand, one must remember with abiding gratitude that he inaug urated the movement that put the best thoughts—the greatest books—within the reaoh of the poorest. LTFE'3 CONTRASTS. Perfume of roses nnd warbling of blrJs, Sweetest of swoet June days, Kindliest glances and tenderest words, Shadiest woodland ways; Murmuring brooklets and whispering Iroes, Drowsiest song ol the soft humming bees ; Hope, love, trust, p -aca 1 and he, he an 1 I. And besides Wintry windsrustlingthe fallen, dead leaves, Sullen and lowering the sky ; Croopin.g mists hi ling s:id earth as sho grieves, Mourning for days pono by ; Cataracts foaming 'neith bare, loafless trees, Chilly blasts sweeping o'er lone, • barren leas ; Heartache, doubts, tears, And besides— I alone, only I. BREAKING* TIIITICE, fWw . HEN William Lar £j\/\F koc irrevocably ,\L V made \ip his mind Bl to take Mary Kuch enbach to the great county picnic at l vS*. Blue Bottle Springs, he did not tell his tJA. father, as was bis iv* custom iD most mat- Yy ters. To a straight laced old Dunkard like Herman Larker the very thought of attendonco upon such a carousal, with its round dancing and square dancing, would have seemed almost impiety. Henry Kuchenbach was likewise a member of that strict sect, but not quite so nai row is his ideas as his more pious neighbor. Yet to bim also the suggestion of his daughter be ing a participant in such frivolity would have met with scant approval. But William was longing to dance. For many years ha had secretly and fondly cherished the belief that he was possessed of much inborn ability in that art—a genius compelled to re main dormant by the narrowness, the strictness of his family's ideas. Many a rainy afternoon had he given vent to his desire by swinging corners and deux-et-deux-iug about his father's barn floor, with no other partner than a wheat sheaf, and no other music than that produced by his own capa cious lips. It was for this reason that when on one beautiful July day William Lar ker, attired in his best—a plain black frock coat, trousers of the same ma terial reaching just below his shoe tops, a huge derby hat no longer black, but green, as a rpg'ilt of long exposure to the elements, and a new pair of shoes well tallowed—steppod into his buggy, tapped his sleek mare with the whip and started at a brisk pace tDward the Kuchenbach farm, his stern parent believed that ho was go ing to the groat bush-meeting at Bunkertown, twelve miles up the pike, and was devoutly thankful to see his son growing in piety, and when Mary Kuchenbach, buxom and rosy, wear ing a plain black dress, the sombre - ness of which was relieved solely by a white kerchief about the neck, and a gray poke bonnet, as became one of her sect, climbed up and took the va caut place beside him, Henry Kuchen bach, standing at the gate with his wife by his side, called after them as the vehicle rattled away: "Be sure an' tell Preacher Book when he comes this way to stop in au' get that crock o' sausages we've be'u keepiu' fur missro." And good Mrs. Kuchenbach threw up her bands and explained : "Ain't them a lovely pair?" "Yes," replied the husband grimly, "an' they've be'n keepin' company six years now, an' that there fellow ain't never spoke his miud." Meantime the buggy sped along the smooth road, the rattle of its wheels, the clatter of the sleek mare's hoofs and the thrill call of the killdee skim ming across the meadows being the sole sounds that broke the silence of the quiet country. A mile was gone over and then the girl said fal teringly : "B-e-e-11, a'n't et wrong?" William in response hit the horse a vicious cut with the whip and re plied : "Et don' seem jest right to fool 'em, but you'll fergit 'bout et when we git dancin'." "I a'n't never b'n ter one o' them picnics an' I feel afraid." Then there was a silence between them—a silence broken only at rare intervals, when one of the pair ven tured some commonplace remark, which was always rewarded with a laconic reply of "Yais" or "Yer don't say.?" Up hill and down rattled the buggy, following the crooked country road across tbe wide valley. Over three low, wooded ridges, then several miles up the broad meadows that line the picturesque Juuiata it wended its way, until at length tho green grove in the centre of which lies the Blue Bottle Spring was reached. The festivities had already begun. The outskirts of the woo ls were filled with vehicles of every description— buggies, buckboards, spring wagons, omnibuses and ancient phaetons. The horses had been unhitched and tied to trees and fences, and were munching their midday meal of oats, gnawing the bark from limbs or kick ing at the flies, while their owners gave themselves up to the pursuit of pleasure. After having seen his mare somfortably settled at a small chest nut, from which she began playfully tearing all the foliage, and taken the iunoh basket on one arm and his com panion on the other, William Larker proceeded eagerly to the inner portion yl tbe grove, the portion from whence same the sounds of the fiddle and cor net. They passed through the outer cir cle of "elderly women, who were un packing baskets and tastfully arrang LAPORTE, PA., FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 15. 1895. ing their contents on table-clotb, spread on the ground—jars of pickless cans of fruit, bags of sandwiches, bot tles of cold tea, and the scores of other dainties necessary to pass a pleasant day with nature. They went through another circle of peanut, watermelon, lemonade and ice-cream venders, about which were grouped many el derly men discussing the topics of the day and exchanging greetings, and at length arrived at the centre of inter est, the dancing platform. The young Dunkards joined the crowd, which was watching the course of the dance with eager interest. An orchestra of three pieces, a bass viol, a violin and a cornet, operated by three men in shirt sleeves, sent forth wheezy strains to the time of which men and women, young, old and middle-aged, gayly swung corners and partners, galloped forward aud bask, made ladies' chains and gentlemen's chains, winding in and out and then back and bowing until William Larker and his companion fairly grew dizzy. The crowd of dancers was a hetero geneous one. There were young men from the neighboring county town, gorgeous in blazers of variegated colors; there were young farmers whose movements were not iu the least impeded by the sombre, heavy clothing, or the high crowned, broad-rimmed hats that they wore; thero were a few particularly forward youths in bioycle attire, and three gay young men from the neigh boring city of Harrisburg, whose shining high silk hats and dancing pumps made them the envy of their more rustio companions. The women, likewise, in beauty and dress, went to both extremes. Gayly flowered, airy calico, cashmere aud gingham bobbed about among shining, frigid satins and silks as modest as their owners iu demeanor. Now iu appar ently inextricable chaos ; now in per fectly orderly form —six sets; now winding into a dazzling mass of silk, calico, high silk hats aud blazers, then out again went the dancers. "Oh,a'n't et grand !" exclaimed Mary Kuchenbach, clasping her hands. "Thet's good dancin', I tell yer," her companion replied, enthusiasti cally. She had seated herself upon a stump, and he was leaning against a tree a few feet away. "Good dancin'. Jest louk at them three ceety feller 3, with their high shiny hats, a swingin' corners. Now a'n't they cuttin' it? Next comes 'a la-man all.' Jest watch 'em—them two in th' fur set, th' way they throw their feet—th' gal in pink with th' feller in short pants aud a striped coat. Now back. Thet there's dancin', I tell yer, Mary. 'Gents dozey-dough' next. Thet 'ere feller don't call figgers loud enough. There they go—bad in the near set —thet's better. See them ceety fellers agin—swingin' partners ! Grand chain ! Good all 'round—no—thero'6 a break. See thet girl in blue sating —she's turned too soon. Thet's bet ter —tother way—bow yer corners— now yer own. All over." The music stopped and the danoers, panting from their exertions, fanning and mopping, left the platform and scattered among the audience. William Larker's eyes were aglow with excitement. The opportunity of his life had come. He was to dance to real music, with a real flesh and blood partner, after all those years of secret practice with a wheat sheaf in the seclusion of his father's barn. He would put his arms around Mary Kuchenbach, a feat for the accom plishment of which he had probably longed more than the other. While his companion, seated upon the stump, gazed curiously, timidly, at the gay crowd around her, he, his hands thrust deep in his pockets, stood frigidly be fore her, mentally picturing the pleas ure to come. His feet could hardly keep still when a purely imaginary air floated through his brain, and he fanoied himself "dozy—doughing"and "goin' a visitin' " with the rosy girl beside him. The man with the bass viol began to rub resin on his bow; the violinist was tuning up and the cornetist giv ing the stops of his instrument the usual preliminary practice, when the floor manager announced the next dunce. One after another the couples sifted from the crowd and clambered upon the platform. "Two more couple," cried the con ductor. "Come 'long, Mary. Now's our chanc'," whispered the young Dunk ard to his companion. "Oh, B-e-el, really I can't. I never danced in puberlick afore." "But yoa kin. Et ain't hard. All yer'll hev ter do is ter keep yer feet a-inovin'an'do what the foliar that's callin' Aggers says." The gil hesitated. "One more couple!" roared the floor master. "You kin dance with th' best uv 'em. Come along." "Really, no. I'm too narvous. Jest wait." The 'twang of tho fiddle com menced ; the cracked, quavering notes of tho horn arose above the buzz of conversation. "Bow yer partners—corners," cried the leader. And the young man sat down on the stump in disgust, '"We'll hev ter git in th' next," he said. "Why it's dead easy. Yer see, this 'eres only a plain quadre-11. Youse orteo Bee one 'et ain't plain. One of them where they had such fig gers cz 'first lady on th' war dance,' like they done at the big weddin' up at Bunkeric wn three years ago. These is plain. I've never danced before meself, but I've seen 'em do it, an' I've be'n practice'. All you'll hev ter do is miud me." And so the following dance found the pair on the platform among the first. The girl trembling, blushing and self-conscious; the young man self-conscious, but triumphant and composed. "Bow yer partners," cried the floor master, when tho orchestra had start ed its scraping. Down went the gray poke bonnet; down went tho great derby, and a smile of joy overspread the broad face beneath it. "Swing yer partners!" The great arms went around the plump form, lifting it off its feet; their owner spun round, carefully re placed his burden on the floor, bowed, smiled and whispered, "Ain't et grand?" "Corners!" The young woman in blue satin gave a slight scream that was meta morphosed into a giggle as she felt herself swung through space in the arnn of the muscular person toward whom she had careened. Her partner, one of tho young city men with a high silk hat, grinned and whispered in her oar, "Oat cake." "Leads for'a'd an' back !" William Larker seizod his partner's plump hand and bounded forward, bowing and twisting, his free arm ges ticulating in unison with his legs and fcot. Ho was in it now, in the thick of the dance; in it with his whole heart. Whenever there wasanydozy doughing to bo done William was there; if a cousin went ' visitin' "he was with them ; when "Ladies in tho center !" was called he was there ; in every "Grand chain" he turned tho wrong way; he gripped the ladies' hands until they inwardly growned; ho tramped on and crushed the patent leather pumps of the young city man, and in response to a muttered some thing smiled his unconcern, bolted back to his corner and swnnghis part ner, and whispered: "Ain't it grand." The young women giggled facetiously, and winked at their acquaintance] in the next set; the forward youth in the bicycle costume talked about road sweepers, and the city young man said "Oat cake." But the young Dunkard was uncon scious of it all to the end—the end t hat came most suddenly and broke np the dancing. "Swing yer partners!" bawlod tho floor master. William Larker obeyed. A ragged bit of the sole of his shoe, worn through by shuffling, caught in a craok end over he went, his partner ciasped tight in his arms, off the high platform. There was blood on the big boulder and a gash in William's scalp when he was picked up a moment later and car ried down to tho spring. The doctors poured water over him and bandaged up his head, and when he recovered his senses ho found himself the center of all eyes. His first glance fell upon the white face of Mary Kuckenbach, who, seated on a stump, was weeping heartily, despite tbe efforts of a large crowd of sympathizing women to allay her fears. He looked up and hiß eyes met those of the youug woman in blue satin, who was looking down on him, and he 6aw her giggle, and turn and speak into tho crowd. He thought that he noticed n high silk hat and heard the word "Oat cake," and then and there he resolved to return and never again depart from the quiet ways of bis lathers. They drove home in the early morn ing. William Larker and Mary Kuch enbach. And they had crossed the last ridge and were looking out over the broad valley toward the dark mountains at the foot of which lay their homes, when the first word was spoken. Tho girl looked at her companion and said: "80-el, ain't dancin' dang'- rous?" 'young man cut the mare"with the whip, blushed, and with much confusion, replied : "Yais, kinder. Bnt —but—l'm sorry I drug you off th* platform like that." Sho covered her mouth with her hand and giggled. William just saw the corner of one of her eyes as she looked up at him from undor the gray bonnet, and replied: "Oh! I didn't min' that. Et was jes' lovely—tell we hit." The mare swerved to one side to ward the fence and the driver seized the rein he had dropped and pulled her back into the beaten track. Then the whip fell from his hands and he stopped and clambered down into the road and recovered it. But when he regained his seat in the buggy he wrapped the reins twice around the whip, and the intelligent beast trotted home unguided.—New York Sun. Jacketing Guns. The officers at the Washington Navy Yard have decided to return to the old system of jacketing guns. The re cent test of tho Sellers method has proved somewhat unsatisfactory. It was triod in the case of an eight-inch nickel steel gun, and while the jacket was put iu place, the operation was attended with some difficulty. Under tho Sellers plan the jacket is heated in a horizontal furnace, and the tube is then inserted in it. Hereafter all the big guns will be assembled in the old way by heating the jaokcl in a vertical pit and then dropping it over the gun tube. The workmen have become so expert in the oporation under the old system that accidents rarely occur, and the officers have concluded that better results can be obtained under it than under the Sellers plan. —Wash ington Star. Unfinished Work. Stevenson left a half-finished novel. Dickens left "Tho Mystery of Edwin Drood" unsolved. Death came to Thackeray as he was writing these words in "Dennis Duval": "Behold Finis itself oame to an end, and the Infinite began." Wilkie Collins had not conolnded "Blind Love" when he was seized with his fatal illness.—Home «nd Farm. SPEED THE DAY WHEN THK HOPE WILTi BE LONG ENOUGH TO HANG DE MOCRACY. A Southerner's Vigorous Denuncia tion of the Wilson Monstrosity- Iniquity of tho Democratic Posi tion—A Party Which Stands tn the Way of American Prosperity. The free trade party opened their last National campaign with the re markable declaration that protection was "unconstitutional." Of course no schoolboy who had ever read the Constitution of his country gave any serious thought to this unfounded .as sertion. If he had ever studied the history of the party thot originated this new doctrine, he knew this was the last desperate objection always brought against any measure which it opposes. As Mr. Keed said in bis great speech against the infamous Wilson monstrosity and sugar coated hybrid between protection and free trade, *'They don't really mean that it is unconstitutional; they simply mean tbey don't like it." But it was left to Senator Hoar to expose the full iniquity of this Demo cratic position. He clearly showed tbut tbe Wilson-Gorman bill gives home protection on a few articles, as collars, cuffs, rice and 6Ugar, which, to every Democrat who believes the Chicago platform told the truth on tbe Constitution, is a violation of that great instrument. Therefore, every Democrat who voted for tbe bill, after haviug taken an oath to bupport tho Constitution, violated his oath of office and became a perjurer. But, of course, tho men who waged war against that Constitution for four long years, and tried to dissolve the proud Nation over wbich its flag floated, can easily be. guilty of the small offence of perjury without al lowing it to disturb their slumbers at night. Many young men in the South who nre not imbued with prejudice engen dered from "tbe late unpleasantness," are thinking favorably of protection, especially since the present Adminis tration has given us a practical object lesson on the subject. Were it not for the sail plight that Demooratio ascendenoy has cast over our fair land, we could stand by in the greatest enjoyment while behold ing the blunders of Grover Cleveland and his Cuckoo Congress. This is the first time for over thirty years that tbe Democracy has had ropo enough with which to hang it=i lf. This it is doing nicely, and it is ouly a matter of time till its corpse will be ready for tho grave of oblivion. May God speed the day when this greatest of obstacles will be removed from the pathway of American prosperity. M. E. MORKOW. Lynnville, Tenn. Wilson Wants a Job. Carpet Wools. Carpet wools are the coarsest, cheap est grades of wool imported. The im port] valuo of clothing wools, 1881- 1893, ranged from 23 to 19 cents, and combing wools from 25 to 22 cents per pound, while the carpet wools were imported at an average of 13 oents in 1884, at 10 in cents 1892, and only 8 cents in 1893. The very low price of carpet wools in 1893 may account in part at least for tbe enormous import of this grade in that year. Note the great inorease indicated by the uplift of the 1893 dot in the carpet wool import. Do we import carpet wools because our climate is not adapted to their growth? This question may best be answered by an extract from the let ter of a wool dealer, to the Secretary of Agriculture of the United States, published in 1889. The Secretary re ported that this was but a sample of many such letters. The extract is as follows: "I beg to say that our house some years back received millions yearly of the best carpet wools that the world can produce. These wools were raised in Colorado, New Mexico and other localities. While sime of the fleeces were small, much of it was long staple wool, weighing about eight pounds per fleece, and had not the harsh working qualities of much of tho for eign carpet wool. It would take a better color in dyeing than the for eign, and was admitted by the large carpet factories to whom we sold it to be superior in every respect for their uses, exoepting in prica. Tho duty on clothing wools being BO much higher than on carpet wools, the grower was forced to cross his sheep with a finer grade, and consequently domestic carpet wool has gradually al most disappeared." This evidenoe corroborates what , would seem to l>e a common sense judgment, viz. : that a country having auch a wide range of climate, both au Terms—-SI.OO in Advance ; 51.25 after Three Months. to heat and moisture, is naturally adapted to produco wool of all vari eties. A Red Herring Scent. * In the course of Chairman Wilson's speech on the Wilson bill, delivered iu the House of Representatives last February, he told a story of a Scotch man who had written to Sir Robert Peel, when the latter wa* leading the cause of tariff reform in England, pro testing against the lowering of the duties cn herriDg. The writer said he was afraid if the duty wan lowered that th* Norwegian fishermen would undersell him. The canny Scot added that in every respect but herring he was a thorough free trader. Mr. Wil son pointed tho moral by saying that he hoped that no Democrat would that day think more of his herring than ho did of the great cause of "tariff'reform." We wonder if Mr. Wilson remembered this story of bis when he urged, a few mouths later, the passage of the Gorman bill, all of whose 631 amendments smelled very strongly of Democratic herring, sugar cured? Mc and My Parly. It Favors Ilic Foreigners. Mr. Retired Wilson lias stated that under protection tho Government re ceived little and the protected indus tries much, while under "tariff re form" the protected industriesreceived little and the Government much. Mr. Wilson was right in ouo part of his statement. American industries do receive little under "tariff reform." They receive nothing, in fact. So far, indeed, nobody in this country seems to be getting anything out of "tariff reform." Tho Government is running behind every day, our people liavo been out of work and our industries are at a standstill. The only ones who seem, so fur, to have succeeded iu getting anything out of "tariff re form" are tho foreigu manufacturers and exporters, judging by tho statis tics of our increased imports. Too .Much Wilsonism. The tariff was claimed by those in power to have been excessive on for eign trade and productive ol too much revenue, but the protracted agony and Cpesarian delivery of tho tariff re form bantling, and the progressive Treasury deficiency thus provoked, far transcends the sentimental agony o? a surplus, which long ago ceased to vex any financiers. It is always some thing too much, whether of a surplus or of a deficiency. Two years ago some thought wo had too much of Mc- Kinleyism. More now think we have got too much of Wilsonism. The tariff pendulum swings to and fro be tween protection and free trade, tiring out even the President ip dreaming dreams, alas! of "iron and coal."— Senator Morrill, of Vermont. (>ive Us the Chance. The launching of the new ocean liner, tho St. Louis, is the direct result of the partial extension of the postal subsidies to American steam ship companies that was advocated by Postmaster-General Wanamaker. Had such a policy been adopted a quarter of a century ago, and maintained in ascordance with tho growth of the country, the American merchant ma rine would by this time have been of presentable size. Our shipbuilders can build the vessels, but the capital that orders and uses thom must be placed upon the same footing as the steamship owners of foreigu countries who, while paying lower rates of wages to their sailors than we do, receive sub stantial subsidies from their respective Governments. Wider Market lor Englaul. We may now hope to see some re vival in a number of tho British in dustries which suffered most under the McKinley ban. It is pointed out that on certain classes of woolen dress goods imported to tho value of $lB,- 000,000 last year tho duties were $lB,- 250,000, but will now bo rather less than half of that sura. It may follow that the United States will continue to buy such goods to the extent of $36,- 000,000 a year, iu which caso the value of tho stuff imported would be $24,- 000,000, and tho dntics only $12,000,- 000. Thus, on this one class of goods a much wider market shonld be openod to our manufacturers. —London Finan cial News. The Verdict Was Plain. The Nation uttered its ver.liot in jplain language. It will have no free trade. The verdict cannot bo mis taken or misunderstood. All the in dustrial States of the Union have de clared in trumpet tongues that they will have none of a policy that seeks to degrade free American labor to the level of tho pauperized labor of Eu rope.—Brooklvu (N. Y.) Times. It Takes tho Cuke. Gorman, Wilson. Johnny Bull, Can tnke n parting slink ■; Tiu.tr cup of Brief Is nearly lull, Protoction takes tho cake. • -J. a NO. 19. A HAPPY FELLOW. From the meadow whore I sit, gee a sky o' bine, • God was six days palntia' It Jest fer me an' you Every time It strikes my eye I keep sayln': "There's your sky I Blue an' bendiu' An' unendin'!" Bo I sing, an' never sigh. Sunshine over hill an' glon— Birds in every tree ; Wnen God made the country, teu Acres camo to me ! Every lime It blossoms fair I keep sayiu': "That's your share! Koses growin'— levers flowln'!" So I'm happy evjrywhere! Spring or winter—rain or shine, Don't care whcra I'm at, So mnch of the country's mine- Praise tho Lord fer that! Sky nn' meadow, high or lour, I keep sayin' as I go : "There'syour birthright!" Got the earth right— That's why I'm a-singin' to ! —Frank L. Stauton, in Truth. HUMOR OK THE DAY. "Takes after his father"—Tho boy with sawed-off trousers. —Puck. When a man is resigned to fate, fato usually accepts the resignation.—Puck. Things are not what they seem. Free lunch, for instance, is not frt e.-- Atchison Globe. Tell a girl that she writes an inter esting letter, and she begins to dream of writing a book.—Atchison Globe. It is all right to court the Muse : bnt her editorial guardiaus make it awfully hard to get hold of any of her money. —Puck. If wo may judge by wigs and shaven faces, the barber seems to have been the most important eighteenth-cen tury personage.—Puck. The tide taken at the flood only bears a man ou to fortune when he is emart enough to walk ashoro before it can take him back.—Puck. Caller -"Where are you going for your vacation, dear?" Mrs. Make bread— "Going to let cook go for a couple of weeks.luter-Ocean. Mistress (thinking about dessert) "What kind of pios are you most ia miliar with?" New Girl "Bakers pies, Mum."—New York Weekly. "I einuot live without yoo," The love-lorn 6Uitor signed ; "And I could not livu with you," The wealthy maid replied. —New York Morulng Journal. Harry—"l understand she gave you aflat refusal?" Jack—"Yes; nothing but a four-story brownstone would satisfy her."—Kato Field's Washing ton. . You can not raise flowers with last year's sunshine; but tho rosiest flow ers of fancy often spring from the glowing warmth of last year's over coat. Jinks—"l understand you were pretty well off before you were mar ried." Blinks—"Yes; but I didn't know it."—Smith, Gray & Co.'s Monthly. Little Boy—"How old aro von?" Miss Antique (confusedly) "fou should not ask a lady how old she is." Little Boy—"Oh, 'xcuse me. How young are you?"— Good News. "Blamed if 1 see any fun in having to put up at a hotel," muttered Bilk er to himself as he handed his watoh and chain over to the clerk as security for his board.—Buffalo Courier. The ancient knight leaned lightly Upon his lance. "Marry—" The modern maid was on his neok in an in stant. "Oh, Roderick," she cried, "This is so sudden!"— Pick Me Up. ■ Y'oung Sculptor—"Well, Bronscn, what do you think of that bust?" Broiison —"H'ui—it may be a good bust—but, really, Chizzle, it strikes me as a bad break.Harper's Bazar. Ob, don't you remember Sweet Alice, Ben Bolt. Sweet Alice with hair so brown ; How she clipped it all off and bought a blonle wig As soon as she got Into town. —Philadelphia Record. (|Maude (at the piano) —"I do hate these finger exercises. I think they're just horrid." Edith "Why, I think they're lovely. They *do show off one's rings to suoh advantage, you know." —Boston Transcript. Nettie—"What did Mr. Knowall write on the card he putin the basket of flowers?" Blanche—"For the one I love best." Nettie—"The horrid creature has bought them for him self."—Chicago Inter-Ocean. If marriage is a failure, as tho critics oft have said, And the wedding-bell but tolls Love's elegy j If marriage is a failure, and love so soon is dead. A cloar case of heart-fat ure it must be. —Carolyn Wells. First Pater—"Loaded down as usu al." Seoond Pater—"Yef. It's piano music for my daughter." First Pater "Apparently she gets it by the ton." Second Pater (wearily) —"Yes, bat she delivers it by the pound."—Pitta burg Bulletin. "I can tell you, baron, that when my offer of marriage was rejeoted by the prima donna I was so utterly mis erable that I was on the point of throwing myself out of the window." "What prevented you?" "The height."—Karlsbaden Woohenblat*. In Active Practice at Jilnety-elfht. Dr. West brook Farrier, of Biddeford, Me., is said to be a physician in active practice, though ninety-eight years old, and, still more remarkable, to be in tho habit of visiting his patient* regularly on a bioyole. He attributes his exceptional vigor at this advanced age to the use of wintergreen tea, o! which he is said to be an ardent ad vocate.—Chicago Times.