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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