SULLIVAN JSS& REPUBLICAN.
W. M. CHENEY. Publisher.
VOL. XIV*
Three-fourths of the total population
of Russia nro farmers.
Britain brags that tho guns now used
by her army will send a ballet through
four ranks of mon at a distance of 450
yards.
Tho Attorney-General of New Hamp
shire has decided that tho appoint
ment of women as notaries public in
that State is unconstitutional.
The horseless vehicle has taken root
in France nnd Germany. Tho steam
carriage brought out by M. Serpolot
between 1802 and 1893 is running in
all parts of France.
By tha law of Scotland tho bushes
or shrubs planted in tho garden be
long to tho landlord, nnd the tenant
cannot remove them at the end of his
touaucy. Tho English law is the same
on this point.
The trouble with the magazie poets,
the Chicago Times-Herald concludes,
is that they are writing from copies.
Good copies—but copies. "One gon
uine, original singer Frank Stan
ton gets nearer to the pooplo than tho
whole raft lood of sonneteers."
Buddhism of late is gaining quito a
number of adherents a.-nong the intel
lectual leaders in Germany, writes
Wolf von Schierbrand, such as Georgo
Ebers, Gabriel Max, Julius Stinde, F.
Hartmann, and they havo just begun
to issue a monthly at Brunswick un
der the titlo "Sphinx."
The Referee, one of the most influ
ential sporting papers in Euglaud, de
clares that tho gauio of football thero
is being ruined by professionalism.
Jeromo J. Jerome's Weekly paper in
dorses this opinion, editorially, and
says "football as played in England
now ie simply a trade. Tho sooner it
ceases to call itsolf sport tho better."
Potatoes were selling for two cents
a sack in Sau Frauoisco a week or so
ago, and sold slowly t™?" at that
price. Tho potato crop all over tho
country last season was enormous, aud
most growers lost money on a consid
erable part of their crop. In some
regions tho "potatoes wore not taken
out of tho ground, tho prico got down
EO low.
The Board of Education of Wilming
ton, Del., had a knotty problem to
solve tho other day, [but thoy were
equal to the situation, records tho
Trenton (N. J.) American. It appears
that a Hindoo boy had been brought to
ouo of tho public schools and was ad
mitted under protest. Afterwards tho
parents of somo of the other children
raisod objections, claiming that tho
Hindoo lad came under the law in re
lation to colored schools. The Board
decided that the boy was not a negro,
und had as much right to attend a
white school as an Italian or any oth
er foreigner.
An Omaha letter to tho New York
Post says there is littlo doubt that
there has been a heavy emigration
from Nebraska, South Dakota, an.l
Kansas during the past two or three
years as a result of the three years of
dry woather. This is especially true
os regards Nebraska. Even a fair ap
proximation of the statistics of this
movoment is possible. Most of these
people aro farmers and most of thom
have gone South. Tho past year was
a disappointing one for tho Nebraska
farmers. The orops Jwero neither a
failure as in 1801 nor a big success as
in 1892. They made a small yield
over the whole State, and tho pricos
which have obtained have precluded
any idea of piofit. With tho record of
three years in succession staring tho
peoplo in the face, it is not at all won
derful that they should have become
discouraged.
Steel wagon roads, as advocated by
Martin Dodge, Stato Road Commis
sioner of Ohio, are likely to have a
thorough trial in several States this
year, predicts the American Agricul
turist. These roads consist of two
rails made of steel tho thickness of
boiler plate, each formod in tho shape
of a gutter five inches wide, with a
square perpendicular shoulder half au
inch high, then an angle of one inch
ontward slightly raised. The gutter
forms a conduit for the watar, and
easy for the wheels to enter
or TP|VO the track. Such a double
track steel railroad,lG feet wide, filled
\in between with broken stone, moeadam
fize, would cost about 86000 as against
S7OOO p»r mile for a -nnradam roadbed
pf the same width, but tha cost of u
urol one-track steel road would be
inly about S2OOO o mile. It is claimed
hat such a road would last muoh
onger than stone and that one horse
K-ill draw ons steal track twenty times
fcs muoh as on s d'fl road, and fire
tinu n. mnnli «■» nr> mo <Mnra
IN ABSENCE.
When shailows dial tho meaiow-sold,. and
mignonetto and mask
Perfume through every scented fold tho gar
ments of tho dusk,
When all tho heavens aro yearning to tho
first faint silvor star,
My spirit loans across to you, beloved, from
afar.
When courier winds begin to rido the high
ways of tho dnwu.
And up tho orient hills, in pride, the car of
day is drawn.
Even as tho bridegroom. Sol, appears, and
Earth's dismays are done,
0 lovo from out tho dark and tears,arise and
bo my sun!
—Margaret Armour, in Black nnlWhito.
A CHILD OF SILENCE.
BY iIYRTIiS KEED.
IGHI at the ond of tho
street stood tho littlo
i whito house Jaok Ward
(JC\ W? V' was l'' to ca 'l his
lrT~, own. Fiveyears heliad
~x> W J lived there, he and °ol
°ol Dorothy. How happy
they had been ! But
things seemed to have gone wrong
some way, since—since the baby died
in the spring. A sob came into Jack's
throat, for tho littlo face had haunted
him all day.
Never a sound had tho baby lips
uttored, and tho loudost uoise3 had
not disturbed his rest. It had seemed
almost too inuoli to bear, but they had
loved him more, if that were possible,
because ho was not as other children
were. Jack had nover been recon
ciled, but Dorothy found a world of
consolation in tho closing paragraph
of n magazine article on tho subjeot.
"And yet we cannot bolieve these
Children of Silence to bo unhappy.
Mrs. Browning says that 'closed oyos
see moro truly than ever opon do,'
and may thero not be another world of
musio lor those to whom our own is
soundless? In a certain sense they aro
utterly beyond the pain that life al
ways brings, for never can they hear
tho cruol words beside which physical
hurts sink iuto insigniticance. So
pity them not, but believe that Ho
knowoth best, and that what scorns
wrong und bittor is often His truest
kindness to His children."
Dorothy read it over and over until
eho kuew it by heart. Thero was a
certain comfort in tho thought that ho
need not suffnr— thftt ho need never
find what a wealth of bitterness lies in
that one little word—life. And whon
tho hard day came she tried to be
thankful, for sho knew that ho was
safer still; tried to see the kinlnoss
that had taken hira back into tho Un
known Silence of which he was the
Child.
Jaok went up the steps this mild
winter evening, whistling softly to
himself, and opened tho door with his
latch key. "Where are you, girlie?"
"Up stairs, dear; I'll be down in a
minute," aud even as sho spoko Dor
othy came into the room.
In spite of her black gown and tho
hollows under her eyes sho was a
very pretty women. Sho knew it, and
Jack did, too. That is, ho had known,
but ho had forgotton.
"Hero's tho evening paper." He
tossed it into her lap as slio sat down
by the window.
"Thank you." Sue wondered
vaguely why Jack didn't kiss her as he
used to, and then dismissed the
thought. Sho was growing accus
tomed to that sort of thing.
"How nice of you to come by tho
early train ! I didn't expect you till
later."
"There wasn't muoh going on in
town, so I loft the office early. Any
mail? No? Guess I'll take Jip out
for a stroll." Tho fox terrier at his
feet wagged his tail approvingly.
"Waut togo, Jip?"
Jip unswered dcoidedly in the affirm
ative. "All right, come- oa," and
Dorothy watched the two go down
tho street with on undefined feeling
of i)ain.
She lit tho prettily shaded lamp
and tried to read the paper, but the
political news, elopements, murders,
and suicides lacked interest. She wou
dored what had come be Lween her
aud Jack. Something had ; there was
no question of that, but—well, it
would oomo straight some time. Per
haps sho was morbid and unjust. Sho
couldu't ask him what was the matter
without making him angry, and she
had tried so hard to make him happy.
Jip announced his arrival at the
front door with a series of sharp
barks and an unmistakablo scratch.
Sho opened it as Jack sauntered slow
ly up tho walk, and passed her with
the remark, "Diunsr ready? I'm as
hnngry as a bear."
Into the cozy dining room thoy
went, Jip first, then Jitok, and then
Dorothy. The daintily served meal
satisfied tha inner man, and ho did
not notice that she ato but little. She
liouestly tried to bo entertaining, and
thought she succeeded fairly well.
After dinner ho retired into the depths
of the evening papor, and Dorothy
stitched away at her ombroidorv.
Suddenly Juak looked at his watch.
"Well, it's half-past HOVOU, and I'vo
got togo over to Mrs. Brown's to
practico a duet with her for to-mor
row."
Dorothy trombleJ, but only said,
"Oh, yos, the duet. What is it this
time?"
" 'Calvary,' I guess. That seems to
take the multitude better than any
thing we sing. No, Jip, not this time.
Good-by —1 won't be gone long."
'?bo door slntuiue,_, and Dorothy
was ulone.
She put away her ombroidery aud
walked the floor restlessly. Mrs.
Brown was a pretty widow, always
well dressed, and she sang divinely.
Dorothy could not sing a note, though
she played fairly w«ll, and Jaok got
into a habit of taking Mrs. Brown new
1 music and going over to sing it with
LAPOKTE, PA., FRIDAY, MARCH 20, 1896.
her. An obliging neighbor who had
called that afternoon had remarked
maliciously that Mr. Ward and Mrs.
Brown seemed to be very good friends.
Dorothy smiled with white lips, and
tried io say pleasantly, "Yes, Mrs.
Brown is charming, don't you think
so? lam sure that if I were a man I
should fall in love with her."
The noighbor rose togo, and by
way of a parting shot roplied, "That
seems to be Mr. Wurd's idea. Lovely
day, isn't it? Come over when you
can."
Dorothy was too stunned to reply.
She thought seriously of telling Jeck,
but wisely decided not to. These sub
urban towns were always gossipy.
Jack would think she didn't trust him.
And now he was at Mrs. Brown's
again!
Tho pain was almost blinding. Sho
went Jto the window and looked out.
Tho rising moon shono fitfully upon
the white signs of sorrow in tho little
ohurchyurd far to the left.
She threw a shawl over her head
and wont out. In feverish hasto sho
walked over to tho littlo "God's Acre,"
where the Child of Silence was buried.
Sho found tho spot and sat down. A
thought of Mrs. Browning's ran
through her mind:
Thauk God, bless God, all yo who suffor not
More grief than yo can weep for—
then somo way tho tears came; a
blessed rush of relief.
"Oh, baby doar," sho sobbed, press
ing her lips to the cold turf above
hiiu, "I wish I was down thero besido
you, as still and as dreamless as you.
You don't know what it means —you
never would havo |known. I'd rather
be a stone than a woman with a heart.
Do you think if I could buy death
that I wouldn't take it and come down
there besido you? It hurt mo to loso
you, but it wasn't tho worst. You
would have loved mo. Oh, my Child
of Silence! Como back, come back I"
How long she stayed there sho never
knew, but the heart pain grew easier
after a while.
She pressed her lips to tho turf
again. "Good night, baby dear. Good
uight. I'll come again. You haven't
lost yourjuothor, even if she has lost
you!"
Fred Bennett passed by the unfre
quented spot, returning from an er
rand to that part of town, and ho
heard tho last words. He drtfw back
into the shadow. Tho slight black
figure appeared ou the eidewalk a few
feet ahead of him, and puzzled him
not a little. He followed cautiously
and finally decided to overtake her. As
sho heard his step bohind hor eho
looked around timidly.
"Mrs. Ward!"
His tono betrayed surprise, and he
saw that hor eyes wero wet aud her
white, drawn faco was toar stained.
She shuddered. A new troublo faced
her. How long had ho boon following
hor?
He saw her distress and told his lie
bravoly. "I just came around tho cor
ner liore."
Her relioved look was worth tho sac
rifice of his conscientious scruples, he
said to himself afterward.
"I may walk homo with you, may I
not?"
"Certainly."
Sho took his offerod arm and tried
to chat pleasantly with hor old friond.
Soon thoy reached tho gate. She
dropped his arm and said good-night
unsteadily. Bennett could bear it no
longer, aud he took both her hands in
his own.
"Mrs. Ward, you aro in trouble.
Tell mo; porhaps I can holp you."
Sho was silent. "Dorothy, you will
let me call you 60, will you not? You
know how much I cared for you, in a
boy's impulsive fashion, in tho old
days when we were at school; you
know that I am your friend now—as
true a friend as a man cau bo to a wo
man. Toll me, Dorothy, and let mo
help you!"
Thero was a rustle of silk on tho
pavement, and her caller of the after
noon swept by without speaking. Al
ready Dorothy knew tho story which
would bo putin ciroulution on tho
morrow. Bennett's clasp tightened on
hor cold fingers. "Tell, me, Dorothy,
and let mo help you !" lie saidagaiq.
Tho impulse to tell him grew
stronger, aud sho controlled it with
difficulty. "It is nothing, Mr. Ben
nett, I—l have a headaoho."
"I see, and you came out for a
breath of fresh air. Pardon me. I
am sure you will be better in the morn
ing. Good night, and God bless you
—Dorothy."
He walked away rapidly, nnd she
liugored on the porch till sho could no
longer hear his footstops. She left a
lamp in the hall and wont up to bod.
"Jack won't bo home till late," she
said to herself, "and ho will want the
light."
So tho tired hoad dropped on its pil
low, and sho stared sleeplo3sly at tho
ceiling.
Meauwhile Bennett was on his way
to Mrs. Brown's cottago. His mind
was made up, and ho would speak to
Jack. He had heard a great deal of
idle gossip, audit would probably cost
him Jack's friendship, but he would at
least huvo tho satisfaction of knowing
that he had tried to do something for
Dorothy.
Ho rang tho bell, and Mrs. Brown
herself answered it. "Good evening,
Mrs. Brown. No, thank you, I won't
come in. Just ask Jaok if I may see
him on a matter of business."
Ward, hearing his friend's voice,
was already at the door. "I'll be
with you in a minute, Fred," ho said.
"Good night, Mrs. Brown ; I am sure
we shall got along famously with the
duet," and the two rneu went slowly
' down tlio street.
They went on in silence [till Jaok
said, "Well, Bennett, what is it? You
don't call a fellow out like th.s unless
it is something serious."
"It is serious, Jank; it's Dor —Mrs.
Ward."
"Dorothy? I confess I'm as much
in the dark as ever,"
"It's this way, Jaok. She's in
trouble."
"Jaok, yon know I'm a friend of
yours; I havo been ever sinoe I'vo
known yon. If yon don't tnke what
I'm going to say as I mean it, you're
not the man I think you are."
"Goon, Fred, I understand you. I
was only thinking."
"Perhaps you don't know it, but
the town is agog with what it is
pleased to term your infatuation for
Mrs. Brown." Jack smothered a pro- ;
fane exolamation, nud Bonnett con
tinued : "Dorothy is eating her heart
out over the baby. She was in the
cemetery to-night sobbing over his
grave, and talking to him liKe a mad
woman. 1 came up the back street,
and after a little I overtook her and
walked homo with her. That's how I
happen to know. And don't think for
a moment that sho hasn't heard the
gossip. Sho has, only she's too proud
to speak of it. And, Jack, old man,
I don't believe you've neglectod her
intentionally, but begin again and
show how much you care for her.
Good night."
Bennett left him Abruptly, for tho
old love of Dorothy was strong to
night ; not the fitful, fluming passion
of his boyhood, but tho deeper, ten
derer love of his wholo life.
Jack was strangely affected. Dear
little Dorothy! Ho had nogleeted
her. "I don't deserve her," he said
to himself, "but I will." He passed
a florist's shop, and a tender thought
struck him. Ho would buy Dorothy
some rosos. Ho went in and ordered
a box of American Beauties. A stiff
silk rustled beside him, and he lifted
his hat courteously.
"Going home, Mr. Ward? It's
early, isn't it? But," with scarcely a
perceptible emphasis, "it's—none—
too soon 1" Then, as her eager eyo
caught a glimpse of the roses, "Ah,
but you men aro sly 1 For Mrs.
Brown?"
Jack took his package and respond
ed icily, "No. For Mrs. Ward."
"Cat!" ho muttered under his
breath as he went out. And that lit
tle word in the mouth of a man means
a great^leal.
He entered the house, and was not
surprised to find that Dorothy had re
tired. Sho never waited for him now.
Ho took tho roses from the box aud
went upstairs.
"Hello, Dorothy!" as tho polo face
rose from the pillow.in surprise. "I'vo
brought you some rosos !" Dorothy
aotnally blushed. Jack hud n't brought
her arose for three years; not siuco
the day tho baby was born. He put
them in water, and tam'e aud sat down
beside her.
"Dear little girl, your head aches,
doesn't it?" Hr drew her up beside
him au.l put his cool on tho
throbbing temples. Her heart beat
quickly and happy tears tilled her eyes
as Jack bent down and kissed her ten
derly. "My sweetheart! I'm so sor
ry for tho pain!"
It was tho old lover-like tone, and
Dorothy looked up.
"Jack," she said, "you do love me,
don't you?"
His arms tightened about her. "My
darliup, I lovo you better than any
thing in the world. You' aro tho
dearest littlo woman I ever saw. It
isn't much of a heart, doar, but, you've
got it all. Crying? Why, what is it,
sweetheart?"
"The baby," she answered brokenly,
and his eyes overflowed, too.
"Dorothy dearest, you know that
was best. Ho wasn't like—"
Jaok could not say the hard words,
but Dorothy understood and drew his
faoo down to hurs again.
Then she closed her eyes, and Jack
held her till sho slept. Tho dawn
fouud his arms still around her. and
when tho early church bells awoke her
from a happy dream sho found tho
reality sweet and beautiful, and tho
heartache a thing of tho i>ast. —
Muusey's Magazine.
Benri lu Cornllc'.ds.
In tho district of Bachinsk, in tho
Trans-Caucasus, bears aro regarded as
the worst enemies of tho maize fields,
and when the eoason for the maize
cobs to ripen comes round, the popu
lation take all possible steps to pro
tect the fruits of their toil. In the
evening, says our consul at Batoum,
tho peasant, armed with a gun, a kin
jal, a stout oaken cudgel, or whatever
other weapon ho can secure, takos all
tho dogs ho possesses with him and
goes off to the field, where he sleep
lessly guards his maize during the
whole night, sometimes at tho risk of
his life. He passes the night in firing
ofl his gun and continual shouting,
while during the day he is forced to
work to the utmost of his powers, see
ing that it is just at this period, i.e.,
when the maize is ripening, that ho
has to throsh his wheat, gather in his
crop of beans, repair his winnower,
and make ready the places for storing
his maize. If a bear gets into a maize
field in which he does not expeot to
bo disturbed during the whole night,
ho first sets to work and gorges him
self ; then, feeling heavy, he begins
to roll and sprawl on his baok. Hav
ing sprawled about a bit, tho boar be
gins to feel playful, and it is then
that tho maize stalks suffer mo3t se
verely ; tucking his legs under him,
he rolls head over heels from one end
of the field to tho other, aud iu his
course he naturally bleaks and rolls
down everything in his way, render
ing the whole crop useless.—London
News.
Claimed HA Invented Matches.
Johann Irinyi dio.l a few days ago
in Hungary, at tho age of seventy
nine. He was one of the five or six
persons who claimed to be the in
ventor of matohes in their present
form. He brought out his invention
in Vienna in 1830, aud a faotory was
started to wort it. Far tho last few
years be acted as Government in
spector of match factories in Hungary.
He died a poor man.
raE MERRY SIDE OF LIFE
STORIES THAT ARE TOLD BT THE
FUNNY MEN OF THE PRESS. I
A Remedy Heroic—Parent and Off
spring—The Worm Turns—A Re
flection—A sure Sign, Etc.
"My lips aro sore, but camphor Ice
I will not have," said May.
"Of course 'twould cure them, but, you see,
Twould keep tho chaps away."
PARENT AND OFFSTRINCI.
Mamma—"What aro you playing
with, Essie?"
Essie—"A caterpillar an' two little
kittenpillars."—Judge.
C' " THE WORM TURKS.
Mm Scrapleigh (during tho fight)
—"Now, hftve I made myself plain?"
Mr. Scrftploigh—"No; you were
bora that way ?"—Puck.
KNOW ALL ABOUT IT.
'That new baby of Youngfather's is
a remarkably wido-awake child."
"So I'vo heard. Wolivo next door
to it."—Dotroit Freo Press.
GRANDFATHER'S CLOCK,
"Yes, my boy, it's over a hundred
fears old, and goes for eight day with
out winding."
"And how long doss it go whou you
wind it?"— Judy.
: A SURE SIGN.
T«ro blind mon were in a train.
Suddenly loud smacks were heard in
the compartmont.
"There," said one to tho other,
"that's tho fourth tanuel wo are pass
ing through."—Pick-Me-Up.
PROGRESS.
"How is your daughter getting on
with tho piano, Numson?"
"First rate. Sho can play with
both hauds now. Says she will bo
able to play with her eav iu six
mouths."—Household Words.
THE DIFFERENCE.
Biggs—"l am so stout that I know
exercise would do mo lots of good."
Tarns-"Then why don't you get
out and Bhovel that snow off tho
walk?"
Biggs—"That's not exerciee; that's
work."—Truth.
A REFLECTION.
Father—"Yon s'u'oujd "not bo so
angry at Cholly for proposing to you.
His lovo is a complimont to your
beauty."
Daughter—"Yes, but his asking me
to be his wifo is nn insult to my intel
ligence." —Truth.
HER REASON.
Husband—"Why do yon pay tho
newspapers at advertising cates to cx
agerate tho success of our party,
Helou? It was a colorless affair, anil
fomo of our guests seemed really mis
erable."
Wife—"So many sent regrets and
stayed away, dear; I wan't to moko
them feel miserable, too."—Truth.
TRESCIENCE.
She stood before tho glass, gazing
earnestly, "lteally," she said, "I do
believo I have a mustaeho coming."
And yet sho seemed rather pleased
than otherwise.
In auother moment tho young man
sho had seen through the window had
entored tho room, bringing his uius
taoho with him.—lndiauupohs Jour
nal.
THERE'S A TIME FOR EVERYTHING.
Exasperated Citizen—"Lo6k here,
I want to make a complaint against
yonr confounded cable cars. Yestor*
day I got caught in a blockade, and
had to sit and wait for nearly an
hour."
Superintendent —"That's just liko
you follows—nover satisfied. Why,
another man just cams iu and com
plained that tho cars went so fast he
couldn't get on."—Life.
HE MEANT IT, ANYWAY.
An old gentleman reproved his
nephew ior fighting with another boy.
"But," said the lad, "ho called my
eieter names."
"Why, you haven't any sister, and
never bad one," oxclaimcd the uucli,
in astonishment.
"I know it," replied the boy, dog
gedly, "but he thought 1 had, aud said
she ,was squint-eyed, and I thrashed
him."—Weekly Telegraph.
ON AN ENGLISH RAILWAY.
First Old Lady—"Guard, open this
window ; I shall smother to death."
Second Ditto—"Guard, shut this
window, or I'il freeze to death."
First Old Lady (again)—" Guard,
will you raise—"
Irate Male Passenger (interrupting)
—"Guard, open that window and
freeze one of those old women to
death; then shut it and smother the
other one."
Silence ia tho sar.—Tit-Bits.
NO PLATFORM FOR HIM.
; The politician shook his head em
phatically.
"Theie is no use getting up a plat
form, as far as I am concerned," he
said. "I shall not run for office on a
platform this time."
"But, my dear sir," protested the
party manager, "it is necessary in or
der to get the votes."
"Nonsense," replied tho politician.
"I shall make my race this time on a
pneumatic tire and endeavor to cap
ture the bioycle vote."—Chicago Post.
The Siberian Uallwar.
Two sections of the great Kttssian
railway across Siberia aro now in op
eration. The aggregate of tho two \s
761 miles. The total leugth_
road ia to be 4000 miles. •w '*
Terms.-SI.OO in Advance; 51.25 after Three Months.
CAFTUHIXU OUR MAUKETS.
Gloves modem Foreign Countries,ftarkcted m llie
United States
dimiy tfie two j/scol jjeorsj
— . ending June 30
IfnportoJ IB9H IB9fand 1895
ij
t1.1J13.597 ) V
fentil-'v"' : ni ill ion -V : .< > .""XV v ; .?+ ?J1 iViiorr .-"v:- }''■■■' ■
- VQoM aT s, ;/•;;;:■,,■■■ •• Dollors• : Dollars; ;:
„ Import of 1895
3
•—=
. , _>
Gor/nairi laviff i
/p.-iA r 2 ffli'llion" 1 ' ' '6TniMiort'-.-
' Qotlors > . l -. Dollnrs Ooilpr^;
GOT IT IS THE NECK.
A DEMOCRATIC RMZZARII OH
STKOYS AMKRICAX SUKKI*-
Y \ltl»S.
Clips of Citlifoi'niit. Oregon, Montana
and Texas Displaced—Kully 84,-
000,000 Pounds of Foreign Sub
stitutes Used—Our litimbs bed !
to the Slaughter. ,
The excess of raw wool imported in
1895 over the average importations of
tho years 1891, 1892, 1893 and 1891
was over 115,000,000 pounds.
Tho increase in the importations of
"manufactures of wool" in the first
full year of the present law over tho
average of the yoars 1891, 1832, 1803
and 1594 13 nearly 28,000,003, equiva
lent to nearly 84,000,000 pounds oI
GOT II IN TnE NECK.
raw un was hod wool used iu tho con
struction of these goods. That is to
say, tho wool grower has lost tho tale
to American manufacturers of 84,000,-
000 pounds of wool heretofore sold to
them, by reasou of tho loss to tho
homo manufacturer of about $28,000,-
OCO woith of woolen goods, requiring
in their production 81,000,000 pounds
ot raw wool, previously manufactured
here, but now manufactured in En
ropo and exported to America, a
quantity greuter than tho entire an
nual unwashed clip of tho States of
California, Texas, Montana and Ore
gon.
The feature, however, that is most
striking and the ouo causing tho most
regrot is the incroase in tho importa
tions of shoddy, wasto, rags, etc. Tho
mcreaso iu tho importation of these
wool adulterants in flio year 1895 over
the average of the four years of 1891,
1892, 1893 and 1894 (all but four
months of which wero under the Mo-
Kinley law) was over 19,000,000
pounds. This was almost as clean as
scoured wool, und required in its pro
duction over 58,000,000 pounds of un
washed fleeces, equal to the annual
wool crops of Pennsylvania, Ohio, New
York aud Michigan or the western
wool growiug States of Utah, Califor
nia aud Texas.
The to.tal increaso of foreign raw
wool imported in the raw stato, in the
shape of cloth, or in tho form of waste,
rags, etc., amouuts to ovor 270,000,000
pounds, a quantity greater than tho
eutiro American wool clip shorn in tho
summer of 1895. These figures aro
the result of the first full calendar
year of the present law. What has
been gained? A paltry increase o?
810,000 in tho expoits of woolens
whilo our homo mills have lost busi
ness ropreseute 1 by an increase of
$47,000,000 in imports of all sorts of
"manufactures of wool."—Justice,
Batcinau & Co., February 5, 1890.
Auothev Bond Sale Coming.
Tho polioy of tho Nation, during the
past two years, has been one of in
debtedness. And so it has been, in
too many instances, on tho part of the
individual. We are confronted now
with a pioposition for a now loan. If
this be put through, thon the com
bined payments for prinoipal and in
terest of new bonded debt, incurred
under the present Administration, will
approximate half » billion dollars.
T.'iis in time of peaoo, and following
so olosely upon a time of unparalleled
prosperity, as we had ia 1892, is ap
palling. And if the meosures of relief
provided by the House of Representa
tives bo killod in the Senate, or vetoed
by the President, then it is almost
morally certain that another additional
issue of bonds rill become part and
parcel of the business of tho year 1896.
Additional interest payments without
additional opportunities for earning.
—Springfield (Mass.) Union.
Fact Knocks Out Theory.
The highest previous record, in 1890,
bus been more than doubled by the
iu«rease ic our imports of foreign
woolen clothes under the great boon
of free raw material to our mouufao
turers. Tho great boon theory is
knocked out by the actual condition
—fsct.
NO. 24.
Fanners anil tree IVooI.
American farmers, who are inter
ested in sheep raising, havo been watch
ing very closely ench month'B returns
of our imports of foreign wool last
year, noting with anything but satis
faction how the product of foreign
/arms is supplanting their home grown
wool in the American market. As we
now have the complote imports for
1895, the first yonr of freo trade in
wool, wo can compare them with the
imports of wool during the foiir pre
vious calendar yoars, uuder MoKinley
protection:
IMPOItTS Of WOOL.
Calendar
year. Pounds. Vidua.
1891 ' 139.317,571 $18,798.(145
3892 .167,784,49.1 21.190,039
189 111,752,308 13.953,546
189 115, ?30,820 13,862,513
Protection av0rage.133,647.812 10,951,276
1895 248.989,217 83,770,155
Freo trade iQCreosel 15,341,405 $10,818,883
-?ree trade in the raw material of
woolen manufactures means nearly
donble the quantity ot foreign wool
used hero to the detriment of Ameri
can wool, and just doublo the amount
of gold sent abroad to pay for it. The
extra $16,818,883 shipped to foreign
farmers would have served much bet
ter purpose had it been distributed
among American sheep raisers. It
would havo helped our own people
wonderfully in paying interest onjtheii
farm mortgages, perhaps in prevent
ing the mortgage of their farmp, or iu
improving them, or in paying off a lit
tle of tho villago store account. .But
farmers must not expect this under
free trade. They can only wait pa
tiently till we havo a Rrpublican Con
gress and a Kepublicau President iu
1897, when, we trust, Eiich a tariff
law will be euactod as will exeiudo
every pound of foreign woo', and en
able American farmers to secure the
whole of the thirty and odd millions of
dollars of gold that we shipped abroad
last year to pay for it.
Tlio Value ol Wheat.
On January 1, 1892, the market
price of wheat was $1.05J per bushel.
Granulated tugar was then worth 4
ceits a pound. A bushel of wheat
bought nearly 265 pounds of sugar.
1896.
On January 1, 1896, wheat was worth
09 conts ufld sugar 5 cents, n bushel
of wheat buying less than 14 pounds
of sugar. Under MoKinley protec
tion tho farmer's bushel of wheat
bought over 12 pounds more BUgar
than it did this year nuder oar Demo
cratic free trade tariff.
It All Injures Labor.
The most appalling feature of the
workings of the Democratic free trade
tariff law is its opening of our markets
to the world, thus increasing imports
and thereby displacing so muoh of the
American produot. This has oansed
the suspension of business in the United
States and has led to a surrender of
the opportunities for labor here, to
other countries. All this has worked *
moat datnagjngly to labor throughout
the United States.—Albany (S. Y.l
Jotirofil. s