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."