FREELAND TRIBUNE. PUBLISHED EVERT MONDAY AND THURSDAY. TIIOS. A. BUCKLEY, EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR. OFFICE: MAIN STREET ABOVE CENTRE. SUBSCRIPTION RATIOS. One Year $1 fiO Six Months 75 Four Months 50 Two Months 25 Subscribers are requested to observe the date following tho name on tho labels of their papers. By referring to this they can tell at a (fiance how they stand on the books in this office. For instance: Grover Cleveland 28June95 means that Grover is paid up to June?', 189&. Keep the tlguros in advance of the present date. Kcport promptly to this office when your paper is not received. All arrearages must paid ■when pajier is discontinued, or collection will be made in the manner provided by law. Honor and shame from no condition rise, Act well your part -and widely advertise) The New York Advertiser confesses that it is becoming tiresome to read how celebrated authors wroto theii first books. Philadelphia has her school chil dren observe Penn Day. The anni versary falls on October 27th. The year of the lauding of the good ship Welcome was in 1082. England seems, to the New York Telegram, to lie recovering from its impression that marriage is a failure, for tho register of marriages for ISO J exceeds that of any year since 1881. "Romance never dies iu Germany, exclaims the New York Tress. At Frankfort on the Main a lady just de ceased has bequeathed 40,000 marks to "tho widow and children of my first love." There is a movement in London to j provido help for the less fortunate ; members of the legal profession and their widows and children. Existing law charities provide small pensions and gifts of money, and there are also homes where annuitants with a small income can be received. The aim is to supplement these agencies and to grant relief in cases where they do j not touch. •'There is a glimmer of light iu the ! domestic horizon shining to the over- j worked and over-worried women of New York aristocracy," announces i Truth. "Seemingly thero is a remote chance that Bridget and her success ors from Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Germany and other over-populated countries may be thrown down from the throne they have so long occupied. The revolutionizing agent is the little, bright, industrious Japanese woman servant." Lipton, the big provision dealer of London, declares that "in Ireland there is a magnificent future for the fruit-growing industry if only its op portunities wero turned to account. Even now most of the blackberries that come to tho English markets are grown in Ireland. But thero are enormous possibilities thero of which no one has yet taken advantage. Properly worked, its fruit trade mighl yet do much to insure Ireland's com mercial prosperity. South Germans are fond of com plaining of the tendency of the Berlin Government to Prus sianize everything and to avail itself of Emperor William's position as head of tho Confederation known as the German Empire to encroach upon tho independence of the Federal States. A cursory glance around tho various great departments of the State at Berlin conveys tho impression, to the New York Tribune, however, that these allegations are unfounded, aud that, instead of Germany becoming Prussianized, it is Prussia which is becoming Germanized. Thus it is u Baden statesman, Baron Marschal von Bieberstein, who is Prussian Minister of State and Foreign Affairs. It is a Hessian, Dr. Hoffmann, who is Presi dent of the Royal Chancellerie of the Kingdom. A Hanoverian, Dr. Miquel, is Prussian Minister of Finance, while a Bavarian, in the person of Princo Hohenloho, holds the joint offices of Prime Minister of Prussia and Chan cellor of the < '■! nun!! Ki:<plre May Grow l! Hero. Americans import from Japan about 40,000,000 pounds of tea a year and 45,000,000 pounds from china. If the tea market eventually becomes much disturbed, there will be an Increase of Interest iu the tea-growingexperimeuta in South Carolina ami Florida. Roumanian Humility. According to i Roumanian custom, when a servant has displeased his master the offender takes his boots in his hands and places them before the bedroom door of his noisier. It is a sign of great submission. —"Do poets wear long hair?" "Notall of them. Some of them are married." A WINTER FANCY. Agnlnst the pane the fsnow drifts fast; The cold night wind goes sobbing past, Alone I sit. and close my eyes. And think and long for summer Jskies# I have a vision— strangely sweet— A field of waving summer wheat; Hills clothed in green from top to basee; A silver lake, across whose face I'he breeze make smiles, while to and fro The white swans slow and stately go. An orchard all flush with bloom : A dark wood, and within its gloom A thrush that sings onco and again His madly sweet and ecstatic strain : 'Tis answered by notes clear and strong, 2 And all the air is filled with song. How tho birds sing ! And well they may j Who would not sing on such a day? 0 world so fair, O life so dear, Just now Clod's heaven itself seems near! I The dream is past; I wake alone ; ! I bear the cold wind's angry moan, And sob aloud, "Be swift to bring, Most gracious Lord, our life's sweet spring.'' —Virginia Franklyn. THE HOUSE ON THE HILL. BY MAY M'IIENKY. tHE two women shut the door carefully nnd looked it as tli e y went out. They did not say iiuythinguntil they bud climbed tbo rickety fence and wero out in the , j road. Thoughts of fl' what they had left, .hut up alone there iu tho bare, silout cubiu, silenced even their loquacious tongues. When they were halfway down the hill Mrs. Sutton drew a long breath and pushed hack her sun bonnet. "There, thank goodness, that's over 1 ft was a task, but some one had so do it; and I'm glad I'm not one of them that's afraid to take nholt. Not that t minded layiu' out the poor thing, even if she was a foreigner. I like to do what's my duty to do; but when it jomes to takiu' pauper children to raise, why I don't believo it's required at me. What Ide Bowman wanted of them I can't see, jjoor as they 'are. Bnt I wasn't going to tell her no't to take them, for then they would come on the rest of us somehow; aud the poor tax is high enough already, good uess knows." "It'savrful foolish of her," said Mrs. Burt, severely. "Ide always was a soft thing, and it's just like her, taking a couple of little scarecrows liko thai that haven't any claim at ull on her, just because sho pities them. And, land sakes, just think how poor they are, aud Steve a cripple 1" "Oh, it takes your real poor folks to afford the luxury of being charitable, and they're the sort that are likely to end up ou tho township, too," said Mrs. Sutton, tossing her head. "That sort think them that work and manage and have a little money ought to give it all away. Ide had the audacity to say that siueo Sutton and me had no family and had the farm aud tho store both to fall back on, it would he nice for us to take the little dagos to raise. But I soon give her to understand that 1 hadn't been workin' all these years to throw away what I'vo got ou no account paupers." "Steve is going to have a steady job this winter ou Mr. Plunkin's mill. I suppose she is counting on that. She told mo about it when she came to tell about the Italian woman being dead," observed Mrs. Burt. While tho two matrons from down in the valley walked leisurely toward their comfortable homes, the subject of their discourse was hurrying through the woods in an opposite di rection. She carried a burden much too heavy for her slender frame, and a little boy, scarcely able to toddle, clung to her skirts and weighed her down. She hurried, panting, along the rough path and kept looking back over her shoulder in a frightened way, as though she was carrying off, con cealed under her shawl there, a treas ure from the dead woman's cabin. Her head was bare ; sho had taken her faded hood to tie about the little boy's shivering shoulders, and you could see that her face had tho waxy pallor of extreme ill-health. Tho skin was drawn so tightly over her high, nar row forehead it was a wonder the bones did not push through. Her prominent light eyes had a weary, helpless stare, and the heavy masses of her lustreless brown hair made her head seem too big and heavy for the pitiful little pipestcm ol" a neck that supported it. The small one-story house at the end of the path up the hill was homely and unpretentious euoiigh, but after the wretchedness and squalor of tho placo where the poor stranger had lived with her children, it looked com fortable and inviting." 44 We have lots to bo thankful for. There are so many that are poorer," said Ide Bowman to herself, as she pushed open tho door of her home. There were but two rooms in the bouse, both as bare and empty as they well could be to contain ail the furni ture of a household. Ide passed through tho kitchen into the bedroom, where she placed her burden, a sleep ing girl baby, upon tho bed, and set tho boy on the faded coverlet beside her. Without stopping to takeoil'hcr shawl, she drew a box irom under the bed and began to take out the little garments with which it was packed. With what bitterness and rebellion she had thrust those patched and darned baby dresses out of sight iu the hour of her groat desolation. Sho could not bear the sight of them then. Now sho lilted them out with linger ing caro and passed her hands caress ingly over the folds and creases that spoke so eloquently of theplunq) buby limbs that hud worn them. "They will fit exactly," said Ide, looking np at the waifs on the bed. She washed and dressed the mother less little strangers and fed them the scraps she could find in the bare cup board. Then she sang them to sleep in the long disused trundle-bed. They were not particularly pretty children, they had never been well enough fed and cared for for that; but Ide hung over the trundle-bed and feasted her hungry eyes. An empty place in her heart 6eemed to be filled at last. The poor little peaked-faced things! She would take such good care of them; she could keep them so much cleaner and warmer than even their own mother iiad kept them. She was almost glad the poor woman had died. "I will keep them for my own—my very own !" she whispered exultingly. Night came on, but Ide was ab sorbed in her day dreams, and failed to notice the gathering darkness and the howling wind. Hinging footsteps along the path roused her at last. She hurried out into the kitchen, shutting the bedroom door carefully. Stevo was corning! Steve—what would he say? The man lot in a great gust of wind and rain as he entered. The long drought was ended at last. "What anight—what a night!" said Steve, in his loud, cheery tones; and Ida's hands shook as she lighted the lamp, for fear he would waken the children. He WAS a big fellow, tall and broad and well knit, with a suggestion of strength in every line of his sinewy body. His good-natured face was half covered by a bushy black beard; aud his crisp, black hair curled from the very stiengtli of it. But this strong man had been par tially shorn of his strength. The right sleeve of his blue cotton blouse was pinned across his chest, limp and empty. An accident on a sawmill three years before had robbed Stevo Bow man of his strong right arm, and since then things had not been going so well in the little weather-beaten house on the hill. "I'm wet to the skin," ho said. "Tho fire is out! Why, Ide, woman, what are you doing without a lire such a night? There is plenty of wood. No wonder you're sick if you sit iu the cold." Ide commenced to put wood in the stove with nervous haste. "In a min ute, Stove; I'll have fire in just a min ute," she said. 4 4 And supper isn't ready. How docs it come you haven't supper ready?" "I forgot it," stammered Ide. 1 Steve did not say anything, but he pushed awny aud proceeded to kindle the fire himself. Ho was hungry and cold ; he had worked all day with noth ing to eat but a couple of apples and a piece of hard bread for dinner. Ide spread the cloth and put a plate and a knife and fork on the table ; then sho stood still and wrung her hands in silent dismay. Sho had nothing to give him; sho had fed everything to the children. He worked so hard ;he was so good to her, and she took the bread from his mouth to throw it to strangers. 4 'Just some of tho bread and pota toes left from breakfast, Ide. What ever you can get quickest," said Steve, drawing up his cliair to the table. Two red spots burned on Ide's thin cheeks. The little boy had eaten the last of tho bread—the very last mor sel,fund she had smiled to see him de vour it so greedily. 4 'There's some boiled potatoes, that is all," sho said. "I'll warm them up for you. You like potatoes so, Steve." "Is that all there is to eat in tho house?" "Potatoes—that's all," said Ide, faintly. 44 We11, let me have them. That way —it doesn't matter if they are cold. I could eat them raw. That's the advantage of going hungry a while. It cures one of squeamishness. I never thought wo would get down this low; did you, Ide?" Steve said, with a pitiful attempt at a smile, as he finished the potatoes. He sat down with his back to the stove, and leaned his head on his one hand. Ide looked at his broad, steam ing shoulders in dull wretchedness; RIIO could not find courage to tell him what she had done. Perhaps ho would be angry. No ono could blame him even if he were to beat her. Other men sometimes boat their wives for ranch less. He had so much to bear, and she had added another burden, j Two more hungry mouths to fill, when they could not get enough for them selves. "Are you hungry too, Ide?" Steve asked, turning suddenly to look at her. Ide shook lier head ; sho could not speak. The man laid his head on the back of the cliair and groaned aloud. "I tell you it's hard. It's too Hard when things go against a man this way,'' he said, between shut teeth. "But I won't knock under so easy. There's fight in mo yet, if I nm lop sided." "You got the job on the mill, didn't you?" Ido asked, huskily. It meant so much, that job on the mil!. "No; they gavo the place to Jake Mortz. Plunkius said ho did not think a cripple would do. It was his carelessness made me a cripple. What's that crying, Ido?" "I hadn't told you yet. It's the Italian woman's children," Ido said, quickly and nervously. "The poor foreigner whoso husband worked on the railroad and got killed, you know. To-day, nor yesterday nor the day be -I'oro I didn't see any smoke coming from her shanty, and something moved mo to go down and see what was the matter. Stove, she was dead. There she laid, stiff and cold, and the two little children huddled up in the same bed, half starved and half froze, a wait in' for her to wake up. Such a wretched sight it made mo sick to see —and the woman dead with only a fow rags over her and her glassy eyes star ing. I run for Mrs. Burt, and her and Mrs. Sutton come and helncd inc lay her out. I had to take my boat shimmy, my wedding one that 1 always saved to put on her. They're going to fend word to the poor over seer to come and bury her. But I had to bring the little ones home with me—just for to-night. The township will take them to-morrow. Mrs. Burt says there's where they belong ; they're afraid in there in the dark, that's what makes them cry. I couldn't leave them alone with their dead mother, could I, Steve? So I thought just for cne night—" "Let's see them," said Steve. The children stopped crying when Steve and Ide entered the bedroom and leaned over the trundle-bed. They blinked at the sudden light, and the little girl reached out her arms toward it and laughed. "Chirp-looking little kids. A boy and a girl, about the age of our two, ain't they?" said Steve, getting down on his knees so ho could see them bet ter. "The boy's just the same size our Tommy was when ho died, and the baby, she's younger than littlo Ida, but not much," Ide answored. She stood behind Steve and her face was drawn and gray. She had been so happy in her dream of keeping the littlo waifs. The awakening was bit ter ; it was like a second bereavement. But they were so poor, and only Steve's ono arm to keep starvation from the door, and now he had failed to got work on the mill. "It'B going to make it pretty hard for you, Ide. They'll make Borne work ; but maybe they'll be some com pany for you," said Steve. "VVe can't do as well by them as Homo could, but they haven't been brought up in the lap of luxury, I reckon. They won't need much for a while, so I guess we'll manage to get along. I got a job to-day husking corn over at Squire York's. I can do that pretty well by tisin' my teeth, even if I have only ono hand. There's always some thing, if a man's willing to tako what ho can get. Yes, we'll manage it somehow." "What do you meau, Stove?" cried Ide, shaking all over. "We can't keep them ; we're too poor. They'll have to go on the township—we're too poor." "We're poor, but they are poorer," said Steve. "There aren't many folks in the world poor enough for us to help much, I guess; but here's our chance. Poor folks must help each other. If these were rich people's kids the rich would bo ready to tako caro of them. And the township makes a cold mother. I was left on the township myself, and I'd rather have a child of mine dead—and they are dead, aren't they ? There, don't cry, Ide. I didn't mean to make you cry, my poor girl. I thought when I saw you had dressed them up in our little one's clothes, of course you would want to keep them in place of your own. You do want them, too, don't you! There, there, don't cry so ! i f you wanted them so bad, Ide, why didn't you say so?" But Ide could only try to put her arms around him and the little girl on his breast and the boy on his knee all at once, and cry: "Oh, Steve—oh, Steve!" The storm raged outside; the wind anil the rain joined hands, and the roar of the tempest filled the darkness. The forest creaked and groaned, and great trees were twisted out like flower stalks. -The house rocked and trembled, and the driving rain beat in and lay on the floor in creeks and puddles. But the fury of the storm passed unheeded. Peace and happi ness reigned undisturbed under the leaky roof of the house on the liill.— Independent. Yawning as a Remedy. Yawning, though contrary to the canons of good society, is undoubt edly very beneficial to tho individual. Muscles are brought into play during a good yawn which otherwise would never obtain any exercise at all, and its value as a sort of natural massage is considerable. The muscles which movo the lower jaw and tho breathing muscles of tho che3t are the first ones used during the process of gaping, then thetouguo is rounded and arched, tho palate tightly stretched, and the uvula raised. The eyes generally close tightly towards the termination of the yawn, the ears are raised slightly and the nostrils dilated. Tho crack some times heard in the ear proves that the aural membranes are also stretched and exercised, something impossible by any process but a yawn. It has recently been recommended by some doctors that sufferers from nasal catarrh should make a practice of yawning six or seven times a day and good results will follow. It is also considered valuable in inflammation of the palate, sore throat and earache. New York Herald. In Cases of Croup. A standard medical authority snyp that the first tiling to do for the child is to put his feet into as hot mustard water as he can bear, and be sure that the room is very warm. If possible, put him into a lmt bath, and then quickly drying him, put him 111 bed between blankets. Even before put ting him in bed give him sirup of ipe cac in teaspoonful. doses until he vomits. For external applications take two tablespoonfuls of turpentine, and four tablespoonfuls of goose oil, or sweet oil, or lard oil, mix well, and rub thoroughly on the outside of the throat. Saturate a flannel and lay it over the chest and throat. Hot bricks, or bottles filled with hot water, should bo placed at the child's feet and at the sides of his body to induce per spiration. Keep them carefully cov crod. Alter the vomiting tho must bo kept open with sirup of squills. The best drink for the child is slippery-elm water. Give plouty of nourishment to keop up tho strength. UNIQUE CHARACTERS. TRAITS OF HUMANITY CONSPIC UOUS ON ELECTION DAY. A Day "When Every One Is u Poli tician—The Man with a Tin Horn- The Man Who Wins a Bet-Fair Woman at the Polls. Many Kinds of Voters. Every movement or event In which large numbers of men are interested has its humorous side, and an election is no exception to the rule. The grave historian who looks upon the ebb and flow of politics with as much calm philosophy as the boatman watches the movements of the tides does not see the undercurrent of fun, for he regards all nE WON A BET. events from a standpoint so lofty that Ihe little funny doings of life, those that go towards making life worth liv ing, are all, so far as he is concerned, completely lost. Nor do even the newspapers, that tread so closely on the heels of happen ings that they present us to-day the history of the world's doings on yester day, always take the trouble to record the fun of the passing moment, proba bly for the reason that they are so closely engaged In presenting the facts that the fun must be left to take care of itself. But the neglect of the liisto rians and scribes to tell all about tlie humors of an election does not in the least affect the humorists who, con sciously or otherwise, furnish the fun on such occasions, for, whether their exuberance of spirits is the subject of notice by others or not, they go on en joying themselves at such times as though the sole purpose of an election were to enable them to be funny. And they are sometimes very funny, in deed, even when they do not intend to be. Somebody says that any one who Is much in earnest about anything is always funny, for the reason that his own menial absorption in the task be fore him is such as lo excite the humor ous emotions of those who have less in terest, so much less as to render his own incomprehensible to tliem, and therefore ridiculous. It is 110 easy mat ter to be as deeply interested in anoth er man's business as in your own, and when you see him intensely absorbed, or, perhaps, greatly worried by some (hing that to you is a matter of no con sequence, it is sometimes a hard mat ter to refrain from laughing. It is generally a safe thing to do, however, especially in matter of poll tics, for, although two men out of live can assign no valid reason why they vote one ticket rather than another, they are generally much in earnest in their political opinions, and the fact that these have no tangible, or some liPl A POPULAR CHARACTER. times even sensible basis, renders thcii possessors all the more earnest in thcii support. Men may jibe at the looks of the American citizen, may turn up tho nose at his wearing apparel, may even shoot out the lips at his hat, and escape with impunity, but the moment you touch his politics he is in arms, for once in every two years he is a polllicao all through, brimful of interest' in the success of his party, and ready, with either tongue or list, to espouse Its cause. Tho young fellow who, for the firsl time, essays to exercise the right of suf fntgc, is always an interesting figure, lie is just at the age when a youth b neither lish nor fowl; that is to say, he is neither boy nor man. lie has just quit going to school, in all probability, and has got a good start on a mustache his voice has changed, and lie no lon ger speaks in the broken gaiuler-gos ling fashion that distinguished his ut terances three or four years earlier but for all that, he is not yet a full grown man. He generally comes intc the polls with some degree of emlmr rassmont. lie has seen polling place? before, but commonly from afar, foi the big policemen admonished him that "kids are not needed here." This time however he is part of the show, and feels a due sense of his own import ance. lie votes; is transformed into a citizen; goes out, and stands on the sidewalk telling people how he voted, and tendering any amount of advice or. the subject to inen who were voter* twenty years before he was born. A popular polling place develops dur ing the course of an election day 6 large number of uuiuue characters The man who stands on his rights is generally the first to come and the last to go away. In the old days of separate tickets he was much more of a figure than lie is now, for he knew exactly what the law was as it applied to him self, and was prepared to go to any length of argument to justify the stand he had taken. If he came as a voter, ho •ame in bristling like a porcupine, and felt really disappointed if nobody chal lenged his right to vote, for that would have offered him exactly the opportun ity he was itching for—to show that he was an American citizen, and as good :is any other man, if not a little bettor, it was as a ticket holder, or distributer, however, that this individual always distinguished himself, for lie knew ex actly how near lie could come to the polls, and if by chance a policeman ordered him back, lie stood ready to prove to the minion of the law that he was right and the policeman was in the wrong, even if he did wear brass but tons and carry a club. A curious study is afforded at a poll ing place by a modest, diffident man whose vote for some cause has been •hallenged. He is angry, of course, for very probably he is suspected of being a repeater: but lie lac&s the flow of lan guage that is the common gift of the professionals at such places, and, con sequently, can not properly uphold his ?nd of the argument. Still lie can not afford to bo out-talked at such an emer gency by the men who would gladly "throw him out of the polling place 011 the least pretext, so he does liis best, and generally gets worsted, and by dint of bullying ami browbeating he is most commonly cheated out of his vote. Then there is the man who knows all about tlie Australian ballot, for he has read about it in the newspaper. lie scorns the idea, of advice or assistance, and generally makes out his ticket so (is to render it worthless for voting purposes. A less well-informed man, W fl|i r f M © THE LAST EDITION. with also a trifle less conceit, would ask the judges for information, for flic intelligent man is always ready to learn, but the; self-sufficient voter, like the critic in Lalluh ltookh, prefers his J own ignorance to the best information any one else can give him. When the women take an active in j terest in the election, the chances for j excitement are materially increased. J It does not often happen that the ladles i interest themselves to such an extent as to go to the polls for the purpose of | laboring personally with voters, but when they do, tliey generally carry their point—not by means of argument, ' but purely on personal grounds. A man appealing to another to change liis vote will present reasons more or less valid, according to the character of the speaker and tlie merits of his case, but a woman's best reason is "Because," and tills she gives out with a degree of dogmatism that exhausts the subject. She can not be made to see that "Be cause" might properly be supplement ed with other considerations; it is enough for her, and she can not. for the life of her, see why it is not enough for everybody else. But there is no such thing as escaping her if she goes to the polls to persuade voters, for even if they be determined to vote against her side, they may as well make up their J minds to listen to her, for if she can not vote for herself, she is bound to do wnat she can to have her way, and that is why she came to the polls. jtixcitlng as the day limy be, the in terest rises to fever beat in the even ~ § iiFi tfj. WOMAN AT THE POLLS, ing, when the returns begin to come in As the darkness increases, crowds, ni first small and quiet, grow in size ant 1 noisiness, while the bulletins are dis played and one side or the other ID turn seem to triumph. Joint celebrations were common, says the St Louis Globe-Democrat in re ! fcrring to the recent election. Half 0 dozen young men would buy a largq, horn. In some cases 8 or 10 feet long, , and bear it on their shoulders, while | Ihe most leather-lunged of the party ; would walk behind the Instrument of j public torture, and from time to time, 1 applying liis lips to the mouthpiece, j omit a roar that could easily be board I from Fourth street to Jefferson avenue. There is some mysterious quality in American human nature that renders CONSOLATION. it impossible for our citizens, espe cially those of more or less tender years, to enjoy themselves without making a noise. Whether the occasion be an election or the marriage of an old widow to a man young enough to be her grandson, noise is the prime ne- * cessity, and, in one way or another, must be had. A few years ago the fire cracker was the accepted medium of rejoicing at any and all events that called for a display of popular enthu siasm, but at present this importation from China is considered sacred to the Fourth of July and the tin horn has forged to the front 011 election nights as the proper means of expressing en thusiasm. It is at once simple and ef fective, combining the greatest possi ble racket with dimensions so reason able as to bo comprised within the limits of an overcoat pocket. Armed with this ingenious device, the intelli gent voter is prepared to do any amount of execution, and his presence in a crowd before a bulletin board is one of the certainties of election night. But he is not the only certainty. The man who has won a bet on the election is with him, and may be "spotted" in the mob by his general air of content I and satisfaction with his surroundings. Life, for him, is worth living, for the time at least, and as he cocks his hat on the side of his head and twists his cigar tip Into the corner of his mouth, he sheds a radiance over the whole neighborhood, and is looked 011 not only as a man of profound political wisdom, but also of the courage to back liis opin ions with his cash. The man who loses the bet is also there, but gets neither sympathy nor admiration from tlie by standers, any one of whom could, as a matter of course, have told him exactly how the tiling was going to be, and sev eral of whom in turn remind him of what lie already knows well enough— that lie was a fool to bet his money on one candidate, when tlie election of the other was a dead certainty. Fair woman is generally not more numerous in tlie bulletin crowds than at the polls, but when she does come she is a tiling of beauty to the men who surround her. She generally comes in twos and threes, accompanied by some* body else's brother, and while inani festing immense enthusiasm, displays also the densest ignorance as to the candidates' names, and whether they are Republican or Democratic. She is always one or the other, either because her papa is or because some feminine of her acquaintance is on the other side, and after the display of a bulletin inquires with eagerness: "Is that Dem ocratic V" in order that she may know when to squeal. And when her turn comes and the crowd emits a bellow that may "be~beard" for twenty blocks in every direction, she opens her rosy lips and gives vent to a squeak not greatly different from that which would have resounded in her vicinity 011 tlie sudden discovery of a mouse un der tlie chair. Her appreciation is in tense, but not intelligent; she knows she is glad, but does not know exactly why. Her enthusiasm is also consid erably hampered by limits, and if she chances to stand close by the show win dow of a dry goods store questions of public policy and of candidates must immediately give place while she ex amines tlie goods and speculates how she would look in a pair of the new sleeves. But, after all, perhaps she knows almost as much about the wliolo matter as her brother, who blows a big liorn and takes home more beer than he can comfortably carry, and as long as she is content no one else need com plain, for of all the figures of an elec tion night she is certainly the most pic turesque. —Friend —"Why do you send your husband's clothes to a tailor, when all they need is a button?" Mrs. Manio fem—"Well, the fact Is my husband married so young that he never learned how to sew on a button."-
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers