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.