SULLIVAN JHB REPUBLICAN. W. M. CHENEY, Publisher. VOL. XIV The whole English press is full of ridicule for Poet Laureate Austin, A Georgia paper complains that the Atlanta Fair "scatteied measles all over the State." It is claimed that the "honor sys m" in colleges originated in the Uni v of Virginia. 1 Campos says of Weyler's Cuba that "tho dead will ■ t u;,r> " oklyn is e greatei copula in the . unc announces is moting again, former wonder moting cash out o' pockots." ngressman Lawler, oi jld a Chicago audience y of the people of this .uted the bulk of tho ud was vociferously ftp- A London weekly paper recalls the fact that at tho breaking out of the Napoleonic wars, which lasted, in all, twenty-two years, Englaud had about 10,000 mercantile seagoing vessels. During the wars no less than 10,871 of them were destroyed or captured, by tho enemy. The Southern States Magazine, ol Baltimore, publishes reports from over 500 correspondents iu all parts of the South as to the financial condition oi farmers. 'These reports show that the Southern farmers as a class are less burdened with debt than thej havo been at any previous time since the war." I "In a hundred years," said Napo leon the Great at St.-Helena, "Europe will bo Cossack or Bepublican.'' Bussia has been doing her part to realize the prediction for the Cossaok, observes tho Chicago Times-Herald. The Bussiau irontier has been moved toward Berlin, Drosden, Munich, Vienna and Paris about 700 miles. It has been moved a thousand miles in the direction of Teheran, 1300 miles nearer British India and 500 miles on the road to Constantinople. Professor Becker, of the United States Geological Survey, who has just returned from the Alaska gold fields, states that although the precious metal abounds in different parts of Alaska, gold seekers should take into account tho hardships and chances of ill-for tune that they will encounter. Food and other necessaries are very expen sive. Notably rich mines already developed are the Treadwell, on Doug las Island, which produces 8500,000 worth of ore yearly, and the Apolle mine, near Delaroff Bay, with a yearly output of $300,000. Mutual fire insurance among farm ers has proven wonderfully success ful, remarks the American Agricul turist. The Legislatures of tho Mid dle States have done much to aid this movement by passing about all the laws they have been asked to. Tho hundicds of farmers' mutuals in New York and Pennsylvania represent many millions of dollars' worth of property and withDut exception the members .report adequate protection and a great saving in premiums. Actual losses and the necessary operating ex penses are ' very small. The money is retained in the community and does not goto fill the coffers of those al ready rich. It is a practical demon stration of co-operation "which can be practiced in other lines where farmers are honsst and can trust themselves and each other. Dr. Jameson is reported to have said in an interview that "our Maxims could have knocked the spots out of them, but we had no ammunition." That is going to be the trouble with the machine guns, especially for armies of invasion, predicts the Atlanta Con stitution. No ammunition train, no matter how long, can carry cartridges enough to feed these greedy corn poppers which shoot away in a min ute as many rounds as a soldier oan oarry. The Maxims and Gatlings are all right in their place, but they will not lessen the importance of accurate small arm fire. A beleaguered fortress With big magazines might be able to fill the air so full of lead that no liv thing could approach, but an army in the field wilt still find it nec essary to shoot to hit, and it will jftce sharp oversight to keep the soldiers from wasting too much lead even with it magazine rifle, to say nothing of a machine gun spitting from 000 to 1000 bullets a minute, AS VE WOULD, If I should 800 A brother languishing: in soro distress, And I should turn and loavo him com fortless, When I might be I A messonger of hope and happiness— How could I ask to have what I denied, In my own hour of bitterness suppliod?j If I might share' A brother's load along the dusty way, And I should (urn and walk nlono that day, How oould I dare- When in the evening wateh I knelt to pray— To ask for help to bear my pain and loss, If I had heedod not my brother's cross? If I might sing A little song to cheer a fainting heart— And I should seal my lips and sit apart. When I might bring A bit of sunshine for life's ache and smart- How could I hopo to have my grief re lieved, If I kept silent when my brother grieved? And so I know That day is lost wherein I fail to lend A helping hand to some wayfaring friend; But if it show A burden lightened by the cheer I send, Then do I hold the golden hours well spent," And lay me down to sleep in sweet con tent. —Edith Virginia Bradt. THE LITTLE OLD MAN. BY CAROLINE CAMBLOS, tUHE high tip in a high house, in a poor quarter of Paris, lived a little old man. He blew a horn every night in the orchestra of a theatre. It was rumored he had saved considerable money. What he would do with this money no one knew; only the mothers in the house hoped ho would remember their ohiklren when he died. For ho loved the children in the house. There were many children, for many families lived there, so he had much to love. When he went to rehearsal he had to clear a passage on the stairs, the little ones crowded so to meet him. Ho usually had a paper of sweetmeats for them. Again, when a ohild of the house was missed, its mother would trudge up the many stairs to the top most. room and say: "M. Clerville, my little one should bo here," and, sure enough, there it would be. When the little ones were disobedi ent, you had but to say: "Ah, if M. Clerville could see you now," and the naughtiest ono became an angel of goodness. His love for their children made the mothers hope he would some time bestow some of his savings upon Jaqueline, Armand, and the like. For he had lived here for nearly eighteen years, had worked all that time and spent but little, so he must have saved much. And for what? No one ever came to see hira, ho went no where but to the theatre, and ho had no friends save tho children. They did not know that the little old man was hoarding and saving for a child he had never seen. It was like this: He had once thought that ho could eompose a great opera. For years and years ho had dreamed about it, worked at it. In these years he had earned but little money, his wife toiling hard to sup port herself and her daughter. At last, just before the daughter's mar riage, M. Clerville finished his opera, sent it to a manager, and had it re turned to him. His wife was angry; sho had stood so much. Sho and hnr daughter left the disappointed man, and ho had never seen them from that doy to this. He knew that his daughter had mar ried, that a little child had come. He determined to work and save for this little child. He put away his opera, and went into an orchestra. This was eighteen years ago. He had lost sight of his wife and child, and grandchild; thoy had drifted somewhere. But one ilream remained to him; he would some time have a goodly sum of money, and then he would hunt ont his grand child and give it to her, thus proving he had not been entirely useless in tho world. He always thought of her as a little child. For this reason he loved all children. Now, one night as he returned from the theater and wap going up to his room, he heard a sw et voice singing a tune ho had not heard for years. He stopped on tho stairs. The" Bong rose on the quiot air; it was an old Provencal song his mother had sung years ago, the .tune he had sung to his wife iu the early happy days, the tune she in turn had sung to their child. The door opposite where he was standing opened—a young girl stood there. "Mademoiselle," he said, "I thank you for the song ; my mother gang it to me when I was very young." In his garret he thought of the song and o£ the young girl—what a sweet faco hers was. Was it really like a face he had once known? He thought and thought about it until he fell asleep. Now Marie, the young flower makor, wns alone in the world, and had moved into the house that very day. It pleased her that she had pleased the little old man. Bo the next night when sho heard him toiling up tho stairs she again sang the old song. "It must be pleasant for him to be remindod of his mother," she thought. "My mother sang it to me, too, and now she is dead." The old song took the old man way back to happier days. "And where have I seen a face like this young girl's?" thought ho. Night after night he heard the song when he came home from the theiter ; he would leave his room door open that ho might hear it to the cud. Once—it was a soft spring night, and LAPOBTE, PA., FRIDAY, MARCH 13, 1896. the lilacs were blooming—be felt it more than ever, "Ob, my dear grandchild," he said, "will I ever, ever find yon? And will yon ever, ever love me?" Again, one day he met Marie as he went down the stairs, the children all about him. "Aro yon quite alone, mademois elle?" be asked. "Quite alone," she answered. "My parents are dead. I had a kind grand mother, but she died, too. And this is my birthday, monsieur. lam sev enteen years old." He stepped up to her, raised him self on his tip-toes, and kissed tier pure white brow. "It is thus I would havo embraced my grandchild," he said to himself, as he hurried away. After that he did not see her for a long while, though ho often heard her singing the old song when he came back from the theatre. Yet, when he was practicing, up in his room, when the children were with him, when he was blowing his hofn in the theatre— at all times ho thought of Marie, and the thought of her brought back the old feelings he had once had, till ho brought out his opera again, and dreamed once more of being success ful. One day, when ho held a sleeping child in his arms and looked down upon its flushed face, he thought, "Marie is young, and should have some one to protect her. lam old—why, I am old enough to be her grand father. Her grandfather! How strange. "My own granddaughter may be as old as she ! I never thought of that before." Ho leaned over the sleeping child, and presently something sparkled on its round check. May be it was a tear that fell from the little old man's eye. Just then, Marie, making flowers down in Uer room, lifted up her voice and sang the old song of Provenco. After that the little old man was braver in his clothes, and some times he even had a flower in his ooat. "I must look well," he said. "Marie shall teach me how my granddaughter would like me to look. My grand daughter ! Ah, soon I shall goto her. I havo saved a good deal." Bat he did not see Marie for a good while, and only her song told him she was near. It bade him be hopeful of yet meeting the granddaughter who should love him as he already loved her. Then one night became home and the song was silent. Startled, he hurried up tho stairs. In the doorway of Marie's room stood a young man. Marie stood there, too, and seeing M. Clerville, she began to sing tho well known song. But the little old man passed onto his garret. "Ob,"ho thought, "my granddaugh thor may not love me when 6he knows mo—there may bo someone else." The nest day the room was locked ; the children knocked on the door and called, but he did not heed them. At night, when In went home, Mario was singing tho song, but ho hastened to his room and closed the door. Three weeks went on, and M. Clerville often saw tho young man talking with Mario, and he thought that it might be thus with his granddaughter, and then she would never love him. At the end of the three weeks Marie spoke to him as he came home from rehersal. "The good people in tho house re member that to-morrow is your birth day, monsieur," sho said. "I was telling Baymond here that you kissed me on my birthday." The young man at her side nodded. "I kissed you as though you were my granddaughter," said tho little old man, "as though I were your grand father." "My grandfather !" and she frowned. "My grandfather was a useless, fool ish creature, not right in his mind, with tho insane idea that he could write an opera. I should despise him if I knew him." It all flashed upon the little old man —her old song, her familiar look. Here is the grandchild he had been saving for for years; the grandchild whom ha had longed for for years, and whom he had loved and whose love he had been sure of. And she called him useless, foolish, not right in his mind, aud vowed that she should despise him if she knew him! "How old and feeble he is," said the young man, Baymond, watching M. Clerville go up the stairs. On tho morrow Marie and Baymond went up to the garret. Marie had a parcel in her hand. The old man's room was full of smoke—he had burned his opera. Marie handed him the parael. With trembling fingers he opened it. There was a little wreath of forget-me-nots. "I made it for your birthday," said Marie. "It is my last work. For to morrow I shall be Baymond's wife, caring for no one else." "Caring for no one else !" repeated the old man. "Now suppose your grandfather should be living—" "1 should despise him," interrupted Marie. "He was useless in the world." M. Clerville took a paper from his breast and gave it to her. "The savings of many years," he said ; "it is your wedding gift." He put the two happy young people ou t and closed tho door. Ho heard Marie Binging the old song as she went away. He held the wreath of forget me-nots in his hand, and he looked at the grate where smouldered the ashes of his opera. He listened to Marie's song growing fainter and fainter ; he did not know that the children had opened the door and stood looking in at him. In vain Marie waited to sing fo. ..'m that night; his step did not sound on the stairs. She grew uneasy. At last she had Baymond go with her up to the garret. She carried a caudle, and that was the only light in the room when they reached it. And there on bin bed Jay the little yl.l in »u, Xb° wreath of blue forget-mo-nots was pressed up against his heart that beat no more. Under the candle light he looked almost young. The house was roused, and men and women sorrowed. Had he not loved their children? The clock struck twelve. "It is not too late,"said Marie, with streaming eyes. "He kissed me on my birthday; I will kiss him on his— as his grandchild might do." She leaned over and placed her face beside .the white one on the pillow. "No one to love him," she wept, "and loving nothing but the memory of his mother who sang the old song I sing." Ah, but Marie did not know.—Home Queen. Statue Hidden by Verdigris. An Egyptian statue, the finest of the kind existing, and as a work of art ranking with the Venus of Milo and the Venus de Medici, has just been discovered in the Egyptian Gallery of the Louvre, almost by accident. It is in bronze, and is the portrait of a queen of the thirteenth dynasty, named Karomnna. This statue was covered with a thick coating of verdigris, which concealed its most striking beauties, so that visitors constantly passed it without even suspecting what a treasure was before them. An almost invisible trace of gold having been detected on the surface, it was thought that perhaps some gild ing lay under the verdigris, and the statue was scraped a little with extreme care. Something was brought to view far different from gilding. Whon the beautiful queen was relieved from her verdigris she was found to be clothed in a robe damascened in gold and sil ver. The workmanship is of the most exquisite description, surpassing any thing known in ancient or modern art. Indeed, tho artists in work of tho kind in Paris often stand for hours before this marvel in an ecstacy of ad miration and despair. The face has a caressing fixity of purpose, not unliko that of the wonderful Venus of Milo in the same building, but even greater delicacy of outline. It sets one dream ing as to its meaning and mystery.— Boston Traveler. Artisan's Disieruin? Eye. A stranger in the city stood in front of a Columbus avenue apartment houso in process of construction, ap parently interested in what he saw, and picked up a brick which be turned over in his hand once or twice. "I will give you a job if you want it," said the foreman, who had ob served tho stranger. "What kind of a job?" asked the other, as he shook tho brick dust from his gloves. "Laying brick, of course," was tho answer. "I know from the way you picked up that brick that you are a brick mason, and wo are short handed, with the cold weather on us." ' 'Thank yon," answered the stranger. "Once I would have jumped at your offer, for thirty-five years ago I wandered these streets looking for such a job and couldn't find it, though I needed it as much as any poor fel low in tho city. I took Greeley's ad vice, and went West, where I have laid tens of thousands of bricks, and employed men to lay millions for me. Now I don't need the work, but am pleased that you recognized in me a member of the craft." Tho stranger was William McManus, one of the largest contractors in St. Louis.—New York Herald. Mexican (.'emetery. A correspondent desoribos tho queer cemetery of tho Mexican city of Gu anajuato. There is hardly room in Guanajuato for the living, so it be hooves tho, people to exerciso rigid economy in the disposition of her dead. The burial placo is on the top of a steep hill, which overlooks the city, and consists of area inclosed by hat appears from the outsido to be a \igh wall, but which discovers itself irom within to be a receptacle for bodies, which are placed in tier?, much as the confines of their native valleys compel them to live. Eich apartment in the wall is large enough to admit one coffin, and is rented for $1 per month. The poor people aro buried in the ground without the for mality of a coffin, though ono is usu ally rented in which the body is con veyed to the grave. As there are not graves enough togo round, whenever a new one is needed a previous tenant must be disturbed, and this likewiso happens when a tenant's rent is not promptly paid in advanoo. The body is then removed from its place in tho mausoleum, or exhumed, as the case may be, and the bones are thrown into the basement below.—Boston Trav eler. One ol the Charms ot Music. "Do you find your orchestra a pay ing investment?" I a iked of the pro prietor of a restaurant. "Indeed I do," he answered. "It's the best investment the restau rant. It makes my patrons more com fortable and bettor pleased with them selves. People always feel more liberal when heariug music; so they eat more. Then the rhythm of the music increases the appetite, particularly for delicacies, and materially increases the ordeis. Besides, the music both draws customers from the street and holds them after they have entered. Yes, it does pay."—New York Herald. Natural Reins aud tiridlo. Certainly the bearded freak of the United States is James Brown, who lives near the village of Bealington, Braxton County, W. Va. His mus tache is the; longest in the world, be ing exactly six feet from tip to tip. Brown hasn't shaved since the war. He is more than six fp.jt tall apd has the built of a Hercules. THE MERRY SIDE OF LIFE. STORIKS THAT ARB TOZ.D BT THE funny men of the press. The Cavalier's Lament—Not Inconsol able—An Odd Antediluvian—Re taliation—Us Value, Ktc., Etc. I canuot tune my mandolin, Havana! My lady's smiles I fail to win, Havana! For Just when I begin to sing The insurgent bullets round mo ring, And "snap!" goes every blessed string, Havana! My lady from her lattioe shrinks, Havana! Of shells and flashing swords she thinks, Havana! The wild insurgents rear and rip! I would not make a skyward trip, And so, my lovo, I'll skip, I'll skip- Havana! —Atlanta Constitution. ITS VALUE. "Now that you've heard the poem tell me what you think? Oughtn't I to get $lO for it?" "Y-e-e-e-s. Ten dollars or thirty days." FEE BO HIGH. Spencer—"Did you feel any pain at all when you went to that painless dentist's?" Ferguson—"Only when he present ed his bill." AN ODD ANTEDILUVIAN. Teacher—"Noah sailed forty days and forty nights." Dick Hioks—"And did it all without a yachting cap." WHERE TO FIND THEM. "This age demands men who have convictions," shouted the impassioned orator. "Where shall we find them?" "In the penitentiary," replied a man in the gallory. NOT INCONSOLABLE. Passenger —"Man overboard I Man overboard 1" Mate (oarelesaly)—"lts on'y a deck hand ; had more'a we wanted, any way. " —Boston Courier. RETALIATION. "Hurry up, Maud. Mr. Jones has been waiting an hour already." "Humph! Let him wait. Didn't ho keep me waiting three years before ho spoke?"— Harper's Bazar. INCREDIBLE. Mrs. Snaggs (reading from a news paper)—" Gas meter manufacturers have formed a trust." Mr. Snaggs—"l can't believe it. No trust is to be placed in gas meters."— Pittsburg Chronicle. A HIGH OLD ONE. Teacher—"Tommy, you may define the difference between a while and a time." Tommy—"Wy—wy—when paw says ho is going downtown for a while, maw says she'll bet he is going for a time." —Cincinnati Enquirer. PURELY IMAGINARY. "Maria," said Boggles to his wife, with an idea of instructing her in political economy, "do you know what civil service is?" "Jasper," said Mr 3. Boggles, with memory of recent contact with tho cook, "there isn't any."—Boston Transcript. A HOME GUARD. Bazzle—"That Major Durham you introduced me to doesn't look like a soldier. I'll bet he never drew a sword in his life." Dazzle—"You are really mistakeu, old man." Bazzle—"Well, ho may have drawn one m a rafile." JNDIWENBABLE. "You have left out an important statement in this rescue story," said a professor in the School of Journalism to one of his students. "Indeed, sir?" "Yes, you neglect to say that the boy was rescued just as he was going down for tho third time." INSIDE KNOWLEDGE. Timdiddie—"l think Hugh Bnugh has more assurance than any man I ever knew. I've seen hiui where a man of any sensibility ought to show a little embarrassment, but it didn't come out on Baugh." Humgruflf—"No? Well, I wish you had my account against him. I tell the man is always embarrassed." THE GERM AGE. Scene. — A schoolroom in the vear 1900. Teaoher (to new boy) —"Have you got your certificate of vaccination against smallpox?" "Yes, sir." "Havo you been inoculated tot croup?" "Yes, sir." "Have you a written guarantee that you are proof against whooping oough, measles and scarlet fever?" |j"Yes, sir." JV'Are you providod with your own drinking cup?" "Yes, sir." "Will you make a solemn promise never to exchange sponges with the other boys and never to use any other pencil but your own?" "Yes, sir." "Do you agree to have your books fumigated; with sulphur and your olothes sprinkled with chloride of lime onco a week?" * "Yes, sir." "Hans, I see that you fulfill oil the requirements of modern hygienics. Now you can climb over that wire, , place yourself oiian isolated aluminum srtt', uud commence dpin& jcur sums." Terms>--SI.OO in Advance; 51.25 after Three Months. ■ '"] V [ _* *. ' 1 l'^ c I I' l lillllf I*23IT2SCT^V !|B9jrwjß9s' Dp^w:%^#.^Sg'^ P? 1 ln T?^ , V>'-'V. v : *; :: ?i :.:.Qollors-; A "CHEERFUL IDIOT." FOOLS PLAY WITH FIGURES TO THKIR OWN DISMAY. More of the New York Herald's Ktblcs of Economics—livery Fact Directly Opposed to Kree Trade Arguments Protection Period Always the Most Prosperous, The "cheerful idiot" is gibbering away again. This time his one idea is focused on our trade for last Decem ber. Of course ho looks at but one side of tho ledger and compares it only with the previous December, in 1894, when tho Gorman tariff was also in effect. Recollecting how all the Democratic papers howlod about its being "unfair" to mako comparisons with 1894, only a few months ago, it does seem ridiculous to note how they grasp at any straw in their vain effort to stop the death gurgle of their freo trade foundling that was foisted upon them in the dead of night without a name and without a father's recogni tion. But, as James Gordon Bennett wants December statistics, by all means let him have them. DECEMBER IMroBTB. Year. Free of duty. Dutiable. Total. 1890.. #23.654,550 *37,139,690 $60,794,240 1891., 88,664,526 30,783,497 69,448,023 1892 . 31,253,999 33,872,357 65.126.35 C 1893.. 29,913,190 19,981.671 49,924,867 Protec tion average. 30.879.057 30,444,306 61,323,373 1894.. 30,745,718 31,389,713 02.135,431 1895. 29,453,827 32,753,530 62,207.357 Free trad» average. 30,'99.772 32,071,023 62,171,894 DECE3IBK.It EXPORTS. Domestic g^oJs. Year. 18)0 $97,410,015 1891 118.576.126 189 8j,215.!)-:2 189 !)1,5E6.!12H Protection average .. 9M50,5!2 189 83,661.053 1893 91.1f!),".84 Free trade average 87,386,918 Our December trade, in the four Mc- Kinley tariff years, averaged] imports of 861,323,373. In the two Gorman tariff years they average:! $02,171,394, or 5748,021 a year more money sent out of the couutry each "tni'ifi' re form" December than in the protec tion period. Less work for American labor and a less cheery Christmas was "sad news"to the wage earners. But tho "cheerful idiot" gloats over it. We also got less freo goods an 1 more dutiablo goo.ls each gleotnly Gorman December than in the McKinley happy Christmases. But no Democratic paper that we have seen gives any oredit to the McKinley law. Now turn to the export table. In the four McKinley years the average December exports of American pro ducts reached §98.450,512. The two gloomy Gorman Decembers averaged exports of only §87,386,920, or over 811,000,000 less of American products sold in the markets of tho world, and that much lesß money for us to receivo *nd remind us of the cheery McKinley Dhristmases. No wonder Christmas trade has been dull in 1894 and 1895. The storekeepers had good cause to complain of that free trade tariff bill. Let "the country ring with the an nouncement of these statistics" Pub lish these "oheering fasts" in tho Herald if you ara honest enough tp tell the whole truth. ANOTHER MONTH'S «U0!)D TIMES." How Business Prosperity Increases Under the Free Trader's Tariff. [A summary of special telegrams to Brad, street's. February 1, 1896.1 The features of tho weak are con tinued retarded demand tor merchan dise and cheeked industrial operations. Least satisfactory is the waiting atti tude of some of the more important industries. Some faotories at Phila delphia are shutting down or running on part time; cotton goods makers re gard the outlook for their product un promising ; there is a reaction in tho price 'of steel billets; among fifty pig iron furnaces in the Pittsburgh and Shenango districts fourteen are idle, and the position of woolen goods manufacturers is shown by the fact that foreign woolen goods aro rela tively more aotive. An indication of the continued shrinkage in the volume of business in December and its extension into January is £|}own by the prolonged NO. 23. decline in totals of weekly bank clear ings, that for this week—Bß9l,ooo,ooo —being tbo smallest since the last week in November, 9 per cent, less than last week, 5.5 per cent, smaller than one year ago, although 19 per cent, larger than in the last week of Jan uary, 1894. When comparisons are made with corresponding aggregates in 1893 and 1892 (when the volume of business was exceptionally large) the failing off is respectively 36 and 32 percent. As compared with the clear ings in the like week of 1891, this week's total is 10 per cent, smaller. {From Dun's Review, February 1, 189C.J Domestic trade recordod through clearing houses is 6.5 per cent, smaller than a year ago, which has aot hap pened before for about two years, and 36.4 per cent, smaller than in tho Fame week of 1893. Buyers show no increase of confidence and most of the shops in operation are working part time. The cotton mills are discussing curtailment of production, as good« continue weak, with an output largely exceeding distribution, though tho week has brought considerably more inquiries, and a larger spring trade is still hoped for. Woolen 3 are practi cally unchanged, as oach passing wee!; of open weather diminishes tho pros pect of profitable busiuess, while job bers, clothiers and retailers have con siderable stocks of heavy goods re maining. Thero is an increase of about SI,- 000,000 for the month in imports at New York, the increase in dry goods boing that much in the last week alon?. His Heavy Foot. "Tho next President must be a Democrat. Grover Cleveland would put a heavy foot on Billion Dollar ism."—Now York World, Juno 24, 1892. He did. He did. In the first fifteeu months of the Gorman tariff he made the business of the country'almost six 1896. billions of dollars less than in the first fifteen months of the McKinley bill. Study the figures, Mr. Pulitzer, aud congratulate your editorial council upon the accuracy of their forecast. BANK CLK\ri.N(IS. Fourth quarter, 1890 $15,612,000,000 Full your, 1891 .. 55,715.575,509 McKinley period, 15 m0nth5. .571,327,575,509 i'ourth quarter, 1894 12,638,000,000 Full year, 1895 52,823,539,24!) Free trade period, 15 m0nth5.f 05,461.539,24'J "UUllon Dollarism" business decrease under his "heavy loot" 5, 50u.030.26) To Trust is to Bust. "Tho people do want a revision of tho tariff upon the lines marked out by the loaders of the Democratic party, but they want tho work well (ione, and they will trust the judg ment of their elected agents as to the conditions under which the revision tan best be made."—New York Times, November 3, 1892. This was a case of to "trust" is to "bust."
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers