SULLIVAN JM & REPUBLICAN. W. M. CHENEY, Publisher. VOL. XIV. SONG CF THE F.OAD. | All the mills in the world nro grinding gold grain, All hearts in the world like my heart must be fain, For my foot goes in time to a holiday meas ure, And the bird in my bosom is singing for pleasure. I know not what end to my wandering shall be. Or what fairy prince rides a-sooking for me; Ho may be a gallant iu graithlng of gold, Or a graybeard who tarries for young maids and old. Meanwhile I go trumping tho merry world over With the flower of my heart folded close for my lover; Folded safely nuil close till my prince comes to claim The bud long asleep, and the llowor turns a flame. Meanwhile I go tramping, a masterless maid, With llowers blowing for me in sunshine and shade, White poppies, red poppies, sea-poppies of amber And a wreath for my head of all wild vines that clamber. I am one with the world and the flowers in the corn. And I and the world laugh aloud in our scorn At the bedesmen who quarrel its meadow lands over While there's rosos on bushes and honey in clover. -Nora Hopper, in Black and White. THE LASTCUAI'TKR IN MISS IVITTEMORE'S ROMANCE. BET. W. HALL. - t ISS WITTEMORE fcT MBT wns giving a small 3 I W M gardeD party at her country yIW I home. There was iff/M B Bothing unusual j about it exoept (if*. Eg that she was to y tPk 3 '0 meet, on this oc '— H casioD, for the 0 H rß *' time, the i fiancee of her orphaned niece, Maud Buchanan, a young lady of beauty and wealth to whom Miss Wit temore had been, for many years, a mother. Although Maud's fiancee was a count (Count Kanolky, a young Frenchman of Polish ancestry), there was but a slight fluttering of the wings of society. For those who were interested in counts had gone abroad to seek them; and those of Miss Wit temore's set who remained had met counts before and had found them to be like all the rest of mankind, good and bad—mostly bad. There was a largo attendance at the garden party, however. There always was at any function given by Miss Wittemore. She was an old maid it is true, but she was the sweetest, most lovable and youngest old maid in all Christendom. And besides, there was about her the atmosphere of that most interesting thing, a romance in real life. Indeed, Miss Wittemore, in .her day, hid been the belle of all Amer ica ; sho had been, and still was, a very rich woman, and she was of the very innermost social circle of New York. She was an old maid. Yes, she laugh ingly acknowledged tho fact herself. But her friends considered her such more because they thought she would eventually become a prim, old, un married woman, tban because she was really so very old. No one could have criticised the pink of her complexion, the lustre of her hair, or the brill iancy of her eyes; and her figure, her bearing, her manner, were royal. Old Colonel Tom Apploton used to > declare that she had received an aver \ age of a proposal a day for over ten years. And there was probably some foundation for the statement. The frank old soldier was alleged to know more about the rich girls of New York than all the young fellows in town put together. Having no daughter pf his own, he maintained that he had a right to be fathsr confessor to all of them. But it was darkly hinted that the Colonel based his statement moro on his intimate knowledge of the ac tions of his friend and boon compan ion, Charley Thornton, than on any thing else. And Charley was noted for but one thing—that was his life long devotion to Laura Wittemore. Bat that is part of the romance. The story is short and not so very uncommon. Lanra Wittemore when a young girl had spent several sea sons abroad. During a winter iu Paris she had met a young Frenchman, who, although untitled, was of an excellent lamily and a Lieutenant of Engineeis in the French army. They had loved each other at-first sight and soon be came engaged. She had returned to America for the season preceding their appointed nuptials. He had resigned his commission in the army and be come an engineer on the Panama Canal. There was a long period of correspondence between them, fol >wcd by a period of silenoe on his art—the conventional percurser of n estrangement. One day she iceived information that he had ecome an embezzler. A year .ter the news came that he had ?oome a swindler in a South Ameri n State. Later, through the alleged idness of friends, she had learned of continued degradation, until at last heard of him no more in any way. e average woman would have speed "->rgotten such an experience. Not h Laura Wittemore. The men lieved that she was like the or •y run of women (there were many men) and proposed, with the de ful hope of winning a celebrated and a fortune at the same time, ■t "No" for an answer. And am ever bad the courage to meat ber again—always excepting Charley Thornton. His was a case of such blind devotion and such courage that even Laura Wittemore respeoted it; and in time he became, not her ac cepted lover, but her tolerated ad mirer, and he was quite satisfied with the role. People said it was because ho was the poorest of her admirers that she gave him the uuusual privi lege. It seemed a trifle cruel. His case being hopeless, it appeared as if she were making the situation all the moro tormenting. The years rolled ca. Miss Witte more never mentioned the name of her recreant lover, but there was no one who did not believe, who did not know, in fact, that she still believed in him, still loved him. She was waiting for him to come back to her. All women have faith in the men they love. Hers was an unusual example of the faith of a perfectly organized woman. In the meantime she changed but slightly. A gray hair or BO appeared above her temples and sho had oc casional lapses into melancholy. Dur ing these stie was usually rather dis tant to the everfaithful Thornton. He, naturally, would be thrown into the depths of despondency on such oc casions. But his friends agreed, to a man (and even ton woman), that these were the most hopeful signs he could desire. And they instilled this idea into him to such an extent that he took anvantage of one of these melan choly periods and proposed again. It was for the last time. The result was quite the usual one, but more de cisive. She said, "I think, you might spare me a repetition of this,"and left tho room. And then Thornton, in his turn, gave up all hope. After that Miss Wittemore seemed to interest herself in but one being—her niece, Maud. It was the night of the garden par ty. The gathering was interested in the little romance that was culmina ting that evening, mninly because rumors of a somewhat disagreeable nature had preceded the arrival of the count. But every visiting foreigner, in these fin de oiecle days, is regarded in America with more or less suspi cion ; and, by virtue of that fact, he had found, from pure sympathy, many admirers and supporters. During his stay in New York, before his trip to the country for this garden party, he had made no better friend than Char ley Thornton. The fact that ho was engaged to the niece of Laura Witte more may have accounted for this. Or Thornton may have been careless and unsophisticated as usual. At any rate they were everywhere togeth er—which militated very much in favor of the count. Still retaining some of the rights of a "friend of the family," even though he had aban doned all pretensions to the hand of tho hostess, Thornton was at the count's side when ho was presented to Miss Wittomore. He saw the varying expressions of surprise, terror and de termination in her face. He, perhaps he alone, heard her gasp almost inar ticularly, "Raoul!" For the first time in his life ho was brilliant enough to divine the truth, and by cleverly over turning a table loaded with flowers he turned silence into confusion, sus pense into laughter, and climax into anti-climax. It was a feat very far re moved from the heroic; but it was successful. Miss Wittomore, leaning upon the*arm of the imperturbable Count Kanolky, was enabled to escape from tho laughing throng, while Maud Buchanan helped the supposedly un fortunate Thornton to rescue the flowers. Miss Wittemore and the count strolled away to a remote corner of the lawn. They had the appearance of being old friends—or old enemies. "So," sho said, oponing the conver sation when they had reached » seat under an old shade tree, "so you have dared, Raoul, to come even to my house and under an assumed name, as the fiance of my niece?" "Yes," he laughed, with a shrug of his little, half stooping shoulders, "I have dared. It is but a little trick in the game. It is nothing. You see it was very convenient to leave France just when I did. 1 needed money and thought it would be as well to take it from Americans as from others. And I could not ask a better opportunity than being introduce:! as the fiance of your niece." "You do not mean," gasped Miss Wittemore, anxiously, "to marry Maud?" "Well, not now," he answered. "I did intend to, until I discovered that you were a feature in the gamo. Then it became too complicated a mat ter to bother with. All I want, you understand, is money." "You have sunk so low as that?" "Oh," ho replied with a disagreea ble laugh, "I have sunk much lower than that. In fact lam improving my situation daily. As you see, lam tho fiance of a beautiful and rich young girl. I will release her. But you must help me in return. I want money. I have obtained notes from one of your set. You understand. I must not be interfered with, or every thing shall be known." "You dare to threaten me, then, with the exposure of your own in famy?" "Certainly. That is a card that never fails to win with women. Not knowing that you were the Miss Witte more of whom Maud spoke so often, I did not suppose it woald be necessary to use it. But it is a card I always carry, where I laugh—up my sleeve. And it will serve my purpose now very well. You wonld not care to have another chapter added to your j story, would you? And you certainly ; would not care to send your niece i through tho world covered with the same mantle that has been such a mor tification to yourself." Miss Wittemoro was silent a moment and looked wearily at the grass at her feet, as a blush of shame and disgust spread over her face. Such was the LAPORTE, PA., FRIDAY, DECEMBER 13, 1895. man, then, to whom she had been true all tehse years. "Money," she said finally, "money then, is your only object?" "The only object I have in the world," he answered. "And from whom do you expeot to get the money?" "From one of yonr smart Ameri cans, one of your friends. In fact, Mr. Thornton. I understand that he loves you. Oh, what a fool he is I Why, he did everything I suggested. I was engaged to your neioe. That was all that was neoessary for him to know. I unfolded my scheme. I talked mines in Brazil, I wanted a partner. Ho was only too glad to be of service to me. Ha, ha!" "How much," she asked, anxiously, "dc you expect to get from Mr. Thornton?" "I have his notes," he answered, coolly, "for $75,000." "Will you let me have those notes if I give you their full value?" "Too late. They are being nego tiated. O, I have to be quick. To morrow I realize on them and to-mor row I sail for Brazil." "Do you know that such a sum will probably ruin him?" "Perhaps," he answerod. "But what do I care? He is not tho first man I have ruined, and he will not be tho last. And you will let me do it. You will not expose me, or—" he pointed menacingly to Maud, who sat engaged in conversation with Thorn ton. "liaoul," said Miss Wittemore, suddenly, "if I do not reveal your true character, if I permit you to swindle this poor man who has never harmed you or any one else in this world, will yon go away and find some way out of this, so that she will never know?" "I will," he answered. "Nothing could suit me better. We will make a compact, an agreement to swindle. You and I who have been lovers. Ha, ha, it is too good! To-morrow Count Kanolky will be suddenly called to Brazil, and on the way he will dis appear. He will be washed over board, quite accidentally. It is a trick I have used before. Mr. Thorn ton can goto work as a clerk, and Maud will bo a tearful but beautiful bride that was to be. She will wear mourning for me, of course. Other wise you would have to tell her. How charming! It is agreed?" "It is agreed," said Miss Witte more. Some ten days after the garden party Mr. Charles Thornton sat gazing blankly out of the window of his club. He already felt uncomfortable, as though he had no Tight to be in snch a place, for ho had just realized that he was not only a ruined man, but without the experience necessary to make a living. Count Kanolky had been accidentally drowned at sea. The money he may have had with him had undoubtedly been on his person and would never be recovered. Even though it were, Thornton would have no claim against the man's estate. Ho was vaguely running over in his mind the few men to whom he might apply for some sort of work, when a note was handed to him. It had been a long timo since Miss Laura Wittemore had done him tho honor to write to him, but ho knew at a glance that it was from her. Wonderinglv, but hurriedly, ho opened the note. It re lated, very simply, tho fact that Miss NVittoinore had told him never again to ask her to marry him as she wished to square a long account by asking him to marry her. It is unnecessary to say that tie went immediately to her to tell her of his poverty. And it is quite as unnecessary to say that she (lid not seom to be at all disappointed at this confession of his, and finally succeeded in convincing him that she had a great deal more money than enough for both of them.—New York Truth. The Constable's Perquisite. A marriage took place in the office of a well-known Justice of tho Peace a few day ago that, while a mo3t im pressive ceremony to the contracting parties, had a very humorous side for the spectators. Tho couple were evi dently from the rural districts and were both seemingly covered with con fusion at their having to stand up be fore the four or five present. After the form had beet) read, the blushing pair standing hand in hand, the mag istrate announced in a serious tone that, as it was the custom for the con stable to kiss the bride, she would pro pare herself for the osculation. The constable stepped boldly out and, being a good looking young fel low, the young woman seemed not averse to being bussed. All doubts of tho propriety of tho act were soon set at rest, for the husky groom stepped before her with air of deter mination upon his face that showed it was life and doath to him. He gave his hands an imaginary washing and said: "Squire, this yero lady b'longa to me now an' what she did afore I took her ain't my business, but if this con stable is willin', I'll give him a dollar and call it off." The server of writs signified his as sent and the jealous countryman paid the amount.—Columbus (Ohio) Dis pa fcJ- A Curious atitl Interesting RMIc. A curious and interesting relic of tho old days was unearthed iu Ger mantown a few days ago. Johu B JU- It.ige, a contractor, who is nut tin,' iu a new sewer, discovered a pick of curi ous design imbedded fifteen feet un lar tho ground. It was covered with n »«, aud, after cleaning it off, tho J 1772 was clearly discernible. The pick, which is consequently 123 years old, was presented by Mr. Bonhage to P. Martel, of Homer ville, who displays it with i>ai.Jouablv pride.— NOT 7or': World, YORKSHIRE PUDDING. A VISIT TO THE ENGLISH SHOD DY MANUFACTURING CENTRES. Working Day and Night to Supply the American Market—Cheap Goods Made From Haxi, Shoddy and Waste—Free Wool a Good Thing for Bradford. BRADFORD, ENG., NOV. 12, 1895. What is commonly known as the heavy woolen district of Yorkshire, comprising; principally Dewsbury, Batlev, Motley and a pood dozen large villages, have very great reason to be thankful for what the Gorman tariff has done for them. These centers, situated about eight miles from Leeds, are at ibis moment "sweltering" in the heat of activity, and many manu facturers in that neighborhood are literally "choked" with orders. Since the inauguration of the Gorman tariff, manufacturers of heavy shoddy wool ens have been able to get a footing in your American markets, from which, prior to the passage of the bill, they had been excluded for many years. To this alone the increased activity of the heavy woolen manufacturers is almost entirely due. Presidents and low wor steds have been shipped, and are being made for shipment, in large quanti ties. Said a woolen buyer to me two days ago: "You cannot buy in Batley at this moment presidents or even any thing else for immediate delivery for neither 'love nor money.' Manufac turers, even with many of them run ning their factories day and night, find they have their full capacity taxed to execute their orders up to timo. In fact, their difficulty is not to securo orders but to refuse them." Any stranger putting his foot down in Dewsbury for the first time, would be at once struck—not with palatial shop windows loaded with tasty things —but with an nrmv of signboards an nouncing that the firms inside were rag dealers, mungo merchants, cotton dealers, woolen manufacturers, leald unit slay makers, and all the rest of businesses connected with that of tex tile manufacturing. It is just the same with Batley and Morley, and as one looks down upon the varied towns he can see nothing else but smoking mill chimneys. This is indeed the greatest seat of wool manufacturing in all the world, and it is also the greatest seat where, in point of cloth adulteration and a blending together of foreign products other than wool in the production of cloth, it likewise stands unrivaled. From morn to night and from night to morn, scrib bling machinery is rolling together every conceivable raw product, from a pulled old castaway felt hat down to an old thrown away folt carpet, which some poor beggar has picked up from a dung heap and carried to a rag deal er that he might make Rn honest penny, or else the same has been cast into the bag of the rag seeker or pot dealer by some disgusted housewife, to find its way ultimately back to the rag puller to be converted again into ' 'raw material," known here as "cheviot mungo." "How long is it since Batley and Dewsbury were so busy?" This ques tion was put the other dav to one of the leading makers in that district and he frankly replied, "Over twenty years have elapsed since tho woolen manu facturers of Batley experienced such a busy timo as they aro now enjoying." "But what do you consider has been the greatest factor in bringing about this present state of prosper ity?" "The repeal of the McKinley tariff and the substitution of a lower scale of import duties have opened tho Ameri can markets, for a timo at any rato, to our heavy woolens." "Then yon really have found that the opening of tho American markets, under this present low tariff, has been tho means of causing more of your dis trict class of manufacture to be sold on American account?" "Undoubtedly, presidents andbeav er eloth aro being shipped to tho Uni ted States in very large quantities, but when the McKinley bill was in force there was a duty imposed upon them of nearly 200 per cent., which really meant total prohibition." "What per cent, think you of your district goods is being shipped to America?" I asked. "Well, that is hard to say, but everything in the sliapo of presidents, pilots, naps, Devon?, serges, curls, low fancy worsteds and woolens have found a ready sale." "Could you give me a few of the lowest prices per yard at which these goods are being made, together ■with weights and widths?" "Well, now, presidents are being made as low as 13 pence (2G cents) per yard, weighing twenty-six ounces, and fifty-four inches in width. Serges have sold well at any price from 9 pence (18 cents) and upward for fifty four inches wide. Low fancy woolens can be bought at 1 shilling 10 pence in width. Until recently you could buy a worsted coating weighing twenty-three ounces, tifty-four inches wide, at the nominal figure ol 1 shill ing 9 pence (42 cents); but this ad vance in the price of yarns has oaused the maker to put up his figure to 2 shillings (48 cents)." "Have you any idea what profit the shippers get on your goods after they leave your plaoe?" "Well, I believe that thoy, too, have of late had to work for very lit tle, for one responsible man in a very large shipping house in Bradford told me very recently that their turnover, although very large, was simply done on a email commission." "And what are your future pros pects? Do you think that your mak ers of heavy woolens will be able to maintain your present hold in the American inumuts' 1 " "On that point," he said, "Dews- bury makers have a divided opinion, bnt it appeass to the majority that some years must elapse before the Americans can produce low worsteds and mantlings of such a quality and price as to shut English goods entirely out of their markets. So long as this low tariff exists we shall be able to do some trade, and we sinoerely hope that its existence will continue." YANKEE. L'APTURINti THE MARKETS OF THE WORLD. • v.w (Scale)-. v.'v»-BUSDCIS: Bushels/ Busnelsv. Bush '•" •' 1 — 1 " '"«*j \ FatflloeS jromiruth.e .United tales and lharketed \n Foreign Countries? i during the (two Jiscol jj. '••• . --! -•; • -I "^>^s >v!v - B^h Let Southern Flags Fly. The Manufacturer's Record, a good Southern authority, says that the num ber of cotton mills projected in the South, during tho last throe months from June to August, inclusive, ex ceeds that of any similar period in the history of cotton mill building in that region. There were projected seventy seven mills which will have an aggre gate of over 300,000 spindles. These, with the new mills projected prior to May 81, will make an addition of 800,- 00() spindles to be added to the num ber now in operation in the South. "If these mills," 6ays the Manufac turer's Record, "l>e all built as indi cations promise, tho aggregate invest ment will represent over $15,000,000." Now, we ask the people in the South, do they suppose that if the duties on cotton goods were swept away, that capitalists, largo or small, would in vest $15,000,000 in new cotton mills? We are sure they would not. Lanca shire could undersoil tfcem in their own markets and the investment would not pay. In the faca of such consid eration, Southern politicians and jour nals clamor for that free trade policy which, if carried to its logical conclu sion, would abolish cotton and woolen duties and raise revenue by imports on sugar, tea, collee and the like. There should be a great Southern uprising for protection. Now that the South is coming to the front as a great manufacturing region, all the States should follow Maryland and Kentucky and fling to the breeze the bauiier of protection and rally around it. _____ Wheat n Free Trade Curio. As the production of wheat is do creasing so rapidly in free trade Eng land, a correspondent of the Mark Lane Express suggests that before this crop becomes entirely a thing of tho past, samples should be secured to place in the British museums. THE LITEST THIXU IN ART. [Now York Morning Advertiser.] VWNUFAtIfc X A 1 M A ' NUf rrßlES f!onrF°l-'sC','' Tho sunlight fuaes, me summer, bird like, flies; There eomes a shado across your wistful eyes— Is k>ve so sweet? The flowers are dead, the land is blind wit I) rain, Tho bud of beauty bears the fruit oi pait Can any note revive tho broken strain? Is love so sweet? The world is cold, and death is everywhere. I turn to you, and iu my heart's despair Find peace and rest. We know, through fou or lair, That love is sweet. ■ -Pall Mall Gazette. HUMOR OF THE DAY. A preferred creditor—One who never presents his bill.—Texas Sittings. Anxious Versifier—"Do joa pay for poetry, sir?" Exasperating "Yes; but this is verse." —Somervillo Journal. Taylor—"Can your stenographer write as fast as you can talk?" Naylor "Sure 1 Why, she can write as fast an she can talk !" —Puck. Jaok—"Well, I called on her father last night." Tom —"Ah, what did he say?" Jack "Not a word. He fired me in profound silence," Softliegh—"Will you marry me? I would die for you." Miss Pert " Well, then, get your life insured in my favor."—Philadelphia Record. "Why do yon suppose they always represent Cupid as a boy?" he asked. "Because he never arrives at years of discretion," she replied.—Houshold Words. Jones —"I've always been sorry for one man who didn't have an opportun ity to see much of the world." Brown—"Who was that?" Jones "Poor Atlas; he ha 1 it on his bask." Truth. "Bigbee has a nerve." "Why so?" "I threatened to sue him for those ten dollais he owes me." "Yes." "And he asked me to sue him 'for twenty dollars and giv.3 him the othar ten."—Puck. Johnnie—"What's the difference between a visit and a visitation?" Pj. —"A visit, my sdq, is when we goto see your grandmother on your mother's side." "Yes." "A visita tion is when she comes to see us."—■ Tit-Bits. Foatlierstone —"I wonder if your sister realizes, Willie, that during the last month I have given her ten pounds of candy." Willie —"Of course she does. That's why slio is keeping her engagement with Jica Burling a secret." —Harper's Bazar. Hicks—"l hear that Miss Jitter lvu thrown over Dr. Pulseleigh." Wicks "Yes; but ho will have his revenge. He hassent a bill for sls0 —fifty visits at J3 each that he has made her dur ing the past year. His next move will bo to sue, not her, but her father."— Boston Transcript, Mrs. Slitnson (severely)—"Willie, this lady complains that you have been fighting with her littlo boy, and wants you to promise never to do so again." Willie (to lady) "You needn't be afraid, ma'am. Your boy will keep out of my way after this." harper's Bazar. Muggins—"Do you think smoking is injurious?" Buggins—"Wei , I know a man who smokes 1500 a day a day and—" Muggins—"impossible! Fifteen hundred cigars a day ! Bab !" Buggins —"Who said anything about cigars? I referred to herring."— Philadelphia Record. First Italian Count—"Why, my dear fellow, where have you been for the last six months or so?" Second Italian Count —"Over in America hunting heiresses." First Italiau Count—"Did you bag anything?" Second Italian Count —"Yes; my trousers." —Somerville Journal. A Mind Surgeon. Whon Dr. James R. Cocke, of Bos ton, Mass., was two months old boMi of his eyes were ruinod by a blunder ing doctor, who administered a wrong medicine. Since then he has been to tally blind. Ho is now thirty-two years of age. He locates a disease by his sensitive touch, an.l he tells the color of goods iu the same way, singu lar as it may appear. A lady, who had eight or ten samples o' dress goads, each about three inches square, handed them to Dr. Cocke the other day, anl he at once told accurately the color and even the shade ot' color of each, and selected the samples of the best quality. When handed several Na tional bank and Government currency bills, he at once told the denomination of each and the color, whether green or black. He tells tho somplexion of a person by touching the skin. It is difficult to believe that 'a blind mau could do this, but he is seen to do it, and accurately, too.—Hartford Times. Only Bird o<»ucst!ca:eil. Our barnyard fowl, says tho Chi cago News, is the only species of » large family of birds that has been truly domesticated. In its wild state this bird had already to a great ex tent lost the power of flight, usin? its wings only to escape from its fonr footed pursuers or to attain the branohes of the trees in which it sought safety in the night time. With this measure of loss of the flying power the creature abandoned the habit of ranging over a wide field and thus was made more fit for domestic** tion. Moreover, in their wilderness ' life these birds dwelt in more estab lished communities thu-i ?<>' kindred upecios.