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',''<dw
S
DE3iSN_?OR A OfiOQMTIYfi PM£I/.
Terms—Bl.oo in Advance; 51.25 after Three Months.
Dairy Farms Under Free Trade;
Dairv farming can hardly bo a pro
fitable business for British farmers.
During the last thirty years the Brit
ish imports of lmtter have increased
bv $45,000,000 a year, of cheese by
$11,000,000, of eggs by $17,750,000 a
year. Free trade in England mast be
a good thing for tho farmers in foreign
countries who supply these dairy pro
ducts.
Out of Sight,
WHERE IS THE FREE TRADE DONKEY ?
Free Trade, Xo Money lor Clothes,
NO. 10.
I.OVE'3 SEASONS.
Fall flowered summer lien upon the land,
I kiss your lips—your hair—and then you'
hand
Slips into mine; 10, wetwo understand 4
That ir ."we'et.
The roso leaf : jlor fades tmc 1 die.->
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.