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TO Correspondents tlKH iajr nhmtlfl lv fir' i. 1'."Hl.llH,l,?,,l,,'.,,'', "'Il"0', '"' "' ... im iiiiriKKiin nifi r til it ii mm iIKMiiii Prut !,,,:!:vriir!',:,l.1.'"'im1''"'-'-'' i-isiiffi THE MAIDEN AND THE BEE. "A r'TTfiKn lonncd whispering by her hlvoi le.lllIK linr lues si.lne news, IW Illcy lit ilnwi Alldititiriil.tiiin I. v ...... H.. i -..7 cTan"" " aB ' I'ordtrt of tViroioc ti. . """""'"Y " ',"'. b'tt" Itoliloii lion, . ..!!. ... i:u w uu UM, WUlCll-U' "M "f tliu Shot like n l.m'l frnm n.. II,- ..,,... . A"'' down """" "' """"t5"1' serenely Ht'him Bay'niflWnp ""!U"0 tlH" lll,orty' 0 Pretty "Hill But I have news to toll thoo, In roturn fur news of thine." ""tl'1t'.'"0"'!"'t ""Kr ,on" a-whlaporlng But Bt nick n f i t-'htf ul nlopndn, lior hair upon the breeze, And tin. howls that she emitted, as she i anted una pnuicecl mid ran, ore In mil, tho tii'lithhora tell me, oloarfrom j uisiicuu w nan. Cincinnati Enquirer. TWILIGHT'S HOUR. TlIK sunlight on a wavcless sea. In softi-nod rmllaiice ftiflolli slowly. UK' folded llowur, tho mint-crowned troo, Proclaim tho giitlicilnji twilight holy. It la the hour when Passion bows: A solemn stillness round us lingers Anil on our wll.lly.thiohblii brows We foe) tho touel. of angol tinners. It Is tho hour whon lovers fond (Km- love ItH unlive tilr Is lireathlna-) Drupe with fair hopes l,ifn'silr..ar beyond Ouy (furhuuls for thu futuro wreathing. It Is the hour whon In fur land. I Ho wanderer, th ud of i nnsuloss roamlnir. I.OnirX fill- I h. Klu.li nf LIh.I.. I I I ' And tho dour homo onwrapt in gloaming. It is tho hour when mankind hears. AmlitKHi-th'Hinim:lt.liuouiiand lamrhrer. a h W w """" ,vl'"" ",""1 jours ..Kivin n.-itTHiirr. L'ltnmlitrt'B Journal. SYLVIA'S SUITORS. Sylvia Exou-a-folded the totter she liad ), nruion, aim put it in tho envelope 1 hen Hhe ai'OHO from linr ...ml ... I.... but and micque, and so opened the letter and read the lust paes over. ' ' You need not wonder," she read, " why opnuti wewuer ai me sea-snore. IT you weio here I wish you were you would rather wonder why all the world Is not of my mind. But I am glad it Isn't. I'd like another woman to heln nntnrinin tu two learned men who Blso sojourn here, but I should object to the world. One of the s-uarms or ine place Is my sense of proprie tary rljht in the ocean. For me the tides come and go; for me the sea breaks and una, mine are ine sunsets and while caps, and mine, O Hachel, the spoil and the plun der! Kor know, my dear, that I do not stay only for the line weather and the ocean, nor for good oomradeship.bul for mosses I Never axuin will you say you are tired of 'Miss Knulos' cowslip china.' It, Huchel, has had ln ' io u succeeded nv mosses sea weeds, aUui. They will be tho rural ' am determined upon (Aaf. You and your fashionable friends can mako conversation, as you sip your chocolate, upon the variety and delicacy of my designs. No plato Is to """""i uupucawj, no cup its tellow. 1 shall not pamt very many, but I warrant you they'll be expensive I You will go wild whon you see my designs, but you need not hope to buy any of my china. It will bo dear, too . tuu me fa'mng to do married, you shall have a Ute-n-li-te set. In the mean tinio, won't you stop at niv studio anil tell tho Janitor that 1 will bo home the 1st of r'""1 ' 1 "u uiigiit suggest some du ing up. As ever, "S. E." "Now, "said Sylvia, " Ilaehcl will have news to ten," and then she put on her gloves, and started for the post-oillce. As she walked along Atlantic Avenue, and then down one of tho cross streets toward the ocean, she thought tho place looked as if it had been desolated by tho plague. The (.tores, the hotels, the pleasant sunny cot tagos, wore all closed aud silent. No one was to be seen upon tho long and sandy slrcels. On some of the avenues were rows if forlorn and dingy bath-houses, moved away from the beach and from winter tides. The long board walk by the shore, the pa vilions, which at their best suggested Samp son Brass's summer-house, were gone, and the very signs of gay lifo silenced made the place doubly desolate. But Sylvia was too full of vitality to feel depressed, and indeed rather enjoyed the loneliness that left ber free and happy. She was pretty, she had abundant interests In her life, and she had half made up her mind to marry. She was not young for she was thirty-six; but she had had a very good time, and she meant never to have a bad one. She had Once lived abroad, and had studied art in Home aud Paris, and she was wise in toehnlcal terms, aud knew all about the schools; and when she wrote pretty little poems she turned them with many a neat al lusion to both Dante and Raphael. She was never worried because she could not paint great pictures, and when she was in Paris she used to go among the studios, and with out any envy admire ambitious Americans working at Pompcilau interiors and Arabs at prayer. When she came bomeBho refused all pupils, and aiiDlied herself to mtintfn.r little girls. Her pictures Bold, but with mildness; yet her day of triumph came. It amo with "decorative art," and a panel and a tea-service established her reputation, and made Sylvia the fashion. After this all was easy. The man she thought of marrying was Professor Arnold. 1 le was a widower with ouo child, aud Sylvia had now been ut the sea-shoro for two months with them. She had always meant to marry, and any one could see that 1 his would be a suitable match. He had position and monoy, and Sylvia liked both, and thought she deserved both. The child, little Joie, was fond of her, and she liked to have the tender little creature do pend on her, run after her, and play the ty rant over her. When Sylvia reached the beach she found Josie busy making a well in the sand, while l)r. Konucdy walked up and down. His long ulster was buttoned over his slender, tall figure, and he wore a huge blue and white scarf tied over his hat to protect his ears. " Oh, hero you eome !" he cried. " I have been watching for you. Just come here, Miss Sylvia. Now look over the Water. What do you see?" Sylvia wont to him. "I see the waves breaking on the shore," she replied. "It is high tide, but the breakers are not rough. It is a tranquil sea." "What else!"' he asked " no ships, no boats, no gulls!"' "Only water and sky." " Now look along the shore." " I see sand a long, level stretch of gray sand." "And the sky V "There are clouds. They are white and many-piled. The sky Is soft and blue, and over there," pointing, "tho sunsot colors are rellected from the west." "Then," said he impressively, "look at that child I You have not mentioned her a mere speck of humanity, a creature not three feet high, a small bit of color, red and white; and yet she is all we see between here and Portugal 1 Think of it! Nearly four thou sand miles of space, and hers the only life in sight! Miss Sylvia," and the Doctor's voice deepened, "this Is whatlcull solitude!" "And you like IU" Yes," he said, "I do. x rmiuuiuii uui,wnea i nave a pieasantcom panion with whom to share It." " Very well," said Sylvia, taking out her watch, "If 1 come under that head, I will Btay wlthyou nftv-three minutes. By that time Thomas will be ready to sound his gong Xor supper, and the Professor will be walk lug on the porch looking for us." "Suppose, then," said the Doctor, "that we sit down by the anchor. I don't like this wind, and I have a shawl there." The anchor, which in the summer was at tached to a bathing-line, was now drawn up on the shere, and deeply Imbedded In the eand made a snug, recess, of which Sylvia was fond. The Doctor hung hit shawl upon the arms of the anchor, and offered Sylvia the cosy, tapestried seat; but she, de clining It, sat in the open air, aud he went far back in the shelter. " Tins," be said. "I call comfort 1 And now Miss Sylvia, when are you going away?" "In two weeks," she said. " And the Professor a week after. I shall be lonely I See here, Miss Sylvia, why don't you stay here all wluterf You have no idea how charming it Is. No loe, no snow, the ulr a visible tonio exhilarating, sparkling! In of Yon ooulit p.int anil get new Inspiration. 'Htav, Hvlvln, stay." i nm inspirations would not he of much use here," silil Sylvia; "and do you sup pose Mr. IMiniT would take a panel In ex. change for my board i" " Hut, my ili ar, said the Doctor, "an art Ni ls free. II,. need nut live in his shop his studio, I nu'an. Paint ynur pictures here, and semi them your agent." " 'Pictures)"' said Sylvia. " It Is teaeups! ir fashion patronizes me, I must be on hand. ) oil ought to see me receive, Doctor," she went on. " I wear a long, monkish brown gown, anil on It is many a spot of paint. My studio Is lovely, and I glvo nislhi tlc teas sometimes. lean fancy you atoucl Will you ciiniel1 " Nonsense!'' said he, flushing. "How frivolous you try to make yourself I I won der you paint at all." "I don't" said Hylvla. "I wouldn't like to be minion-than the basket handle; 1 know too well all the Joys of Independence! Still, you see, I haven't monev, so 1 earn It." " That Is Just It!" orfed the Doctor, com ing a little way out of his niche. "You worn because you must have a living. Very good. And your occupation is genteel and lady-like." " Don't say ' genteel I" cried Sylvia. "That Is a very giod word. Would re portable bo any better? No. Well, this Is what I meant to say a pretty, domestic woman like you ought to get married. In fact, you ought to have beou married some time ago." "How do von know I am domestic f" said Sylvia, slightly coloring, and ignoring his last remark. "Artists are generally considered Bohemian rather than domes tic." "Oh. but you aro not an out-and-out artist." " Indeed I am !" cried Sylvia. " I haven't much genius, but you don't suppose I spend my life painting Urn-cups!1 I paint pictures, and I exhibit them, and, what is more to tho purpose, 1 sell them." " 1 don't doubt it," said the Doctor, " but all the sumo you ought to got married. There's that child's father; why don't he marry?" "I am sureldon't know;" and now Sylvia did really color. "Ho ought to do It," pursued the relent less Doctor. "That child can not be prop erly brought up by servants, and he has no sisters. Do you know, Miss Sylvia now. I suppose you'll get mad I I had a great mind to advise him to ask you. It seems a pity ui null iu lunu mo ciiaucc or so good a mother for Josie. Y'ou see I have an oh. servant nature, nnn 1 nave watched vou will ner. l ou are fond of her. vou have nimuem little WI1V8 With her. and she Is eertninli? fond of vou. Y'es. vou would mulcA & vru good mother for her." Sylvia laughed at this. She did not mean to oetray any reeling again. ine reason wuy I am so candid, and mi, nm him. vou uo uunK me abrupt r ." I do." said Svlvia. " Well, the reason Is thnt ihm mitt.. I- a nine involved, wnenl first thought of it, juti nun mu i-romssor were nigging active for the child In the sand, and she was tuim- iis nuuui in uin giee. iroyou remember?" l es, Sylva remembered it very well. "It was a nrettv nletnrn. T thnm.hl in.t ft nnnucu mi llic I.IiaL LI1H r rOTPSKOI Well I (I lu. uiina ii ne urn not see what he ought to do Ask you to marry him, I mean." I ought to bo very much obliged to you," Bttiu ttiiia ciiuuy. " Oh. but that isn't all 1" the TWtnr enn. tinned, pushing the scarf off his ears. "You don't understand yot how the matter Is in volved. When I went back to tho hotel It occurred to me that I was a very great fool. i nau mucn oettor asg you to marry ine. am sure I need a good wife." very wen," satu Sylvia, with admirable gravity. still, you see," he said, "It seemed rather mean nut to give him the chance. It Is of course oovious that he needs the wife the most on account of the little girl, you know. My first thought referred to his ninr- rying you, and that gives him, you Bee, a DV.1 K 11 fllu-ullll.VIUll CIUIIU." i am not sure of that," replied Sylvia. Don't Uiev give patents, or something nf the sort, for tho first idea?" Then," said the Doctor eagerly, " you Tiviiiii uc OTiniiiK iv iul ine asa you, ' '1 llll. imri.lv '1 tl..l.ria I wish I knew what "vou mean wnuM you refuse But no, I won't do it. I really think he ought to have the first chance. The utile girl is to be cousidered, you know." "Is it Josie who is the first objeet?" said Sylvia. "If that Is so, I might adopt her. That would make it all right, and none of us be worried." Her father wouldn't rtart with her; hut x uiu i.uiiiKiiur oi ine weirare or a . kv George, Miss Sylvia, I wish I knew your Kng; or rather I wish the Professor did, I'd like Chang m vself ! Of course Arnold knows nothing of this, I thought I had best speak to you rtrst. I was afraid ho would not ex plain the situation, not as I would." 1 don't believe he could," replied she. Well," said the Doctor, "what have vou tosav?" "I can not say anything," she answered. "You can not?" repeated the Doctor. "I could offer an ooinloii T sunnnse." said Svlvia; "but vou see I can't, under the circumstances, make it a personal matter i ou mean," tne Doctor said, "that n ol ther of us has yet asked you?" -r.xaci.iy," riyivia answered. "Very well, then. Now. sUDDose before we go any further, that we see just where we sianu in tne present position of arfairs. In the first place, because it would per haps, not be proper to refer to the Profes sor's personal matters at this moment, do you think you could marry ine?" "No, I don't." she unsw'ered. "I am vnrv sure I couldn't." "That is frank," he said, looking greatly pleased. "I like that. It Is business-like and helps us to clear the way. Now, why couldn't you?" "For one thing, I don't care enough for you, and for another 1 never thought of It." "Very good. But we will now suppose you might waive the second reason, and I could try to persuade you out of the first. So then, what are your objeetlons likely to be? You can't, for instance, object to my family?" 1 "No," said Sylvia; "to tell you the hon eBt truth, I know nothing about It." "Y'ou don't!" exclaimed the Doctor. "Then I'll tell you. We are good Quaker stock. We came over with William Penn. We are In every history of Pennsylvania ever written. If you ask for family, you can't do better. We are an Arch Street Quaker family. I am not poor. 1 like my profes sion, and If I need more money I will prac- vice again, ouiu you no satisfied wltn seven thousand three hundred and sixty-two dol lars a year?" "Perfectly," said Sylvia. " I am not young 1 am forty-six; but the Professor is still older, bo that point is not to be considered." "Oh, yes it is I" exclaimed Sylvia. "We are not considering this matter relatively; the Professor Is not under discussion." " True enough," replied the Doctor, "that is a fact to be remembored. Well, vou think of what I said," and the Doctor got up and bogan to fold tho shawl. "And of course you understand that, although we approach the matter from a practical side, I love you. I should not wish to marry a woman to whom 1 was not attached." " I will remember," Sylvia replied, taking hold of the olherend of the shawl, and help ing hiin to fold it. The Doctor then drew his scarf over his ears. They called Josie, who was busy carrying water to her well, and liberally baptising herself as she trotted back and forth. 'Now." said the Doctor, as they drew near the house, and the Professor came out to meet his little girl, "the next thing Is to sneak to Arnold." speak to Arnold. Speak to who V ' cried Sylvia, standing ' ' To Arnold, of course. Whv. von don't think I mean to let the matter rest here I I want my answer, aud we have agreod that he ought to have the first chance." " 'We agreed' I" Svlvia exclaimed. "Dr. Kennedy, you are an idiot!" The Doctor laughed at this, and then pre vented all further discussion by going into tho house. " He certainly won't," said Sylvia to her self, as, In the evening, she went out on the porch to walk; " but I do wish Mr. Kilmer would stop that dreadful old fiddle and go tit with them. Then she half turned to go herself, but. she was not sure. Perhaps the Doctor would make an umpire of her, and ask hur for a ruling on the spot. And yet It was absurd her to hesitate. She would get her sew ing, and go In as if nothing had happened. She wished Josie had not gone to bed. She wished her tea-oups were all In China. She wished At that moment the door opened, and the Professor looked out. "Oh, It is you!" he exclaimed. "I thought I heard footsteps as I passed, and I wondered who it could bo. I did not think you for a moment. And then I sever knew you to walk on this side of the house. I Is ed ine I me me my but you and this to and am the she then bed, for " he one. ine? took she " and " not us." little that " and to to in both " not Now ' It Is more sheltered, but rou can not see l ha oei.111, " "Oh, I don't or for the ocean to-night," replied Hylvla, "and I am Just going up. slairs." Don't go yet," said the Professor. " Let me get my hat and walk with vou. I have been In the house nearly all dny, and I am tired of house air." Sylvia heslisted. "Very well," she said, "but I nan not stay long." So the Professor put on his hat and coat and Joined her. "Shall we not go round to the other porch ?" he asked. " If you do," she answered, "the Doctor wll see you and call you In. He thinks nigiit air nan for the neuralgia." '' I have no neuralgia. Have yon?" No, but he has. I don't know, however but that It would be best for us to be caneu in." " Do yon know, he Is a tcr pocuHar per ton, Miss Hylvla?" " He certainly Is. But do tell me. Pro. feasor, do you bellere much In the electric llgutr j know lust what will ho done. The ocean will be lighted! All along the shore we will have lamps, and all the dim, solemn vagueness of sea, shore, and sky will be lost. Wouldn't It be dreadful if Kdlton should acstroy nigtit?" "Ho can't destroy sleep If he does. I slept In St. Petersburg with the sun shining fc niiiiiiigni, jusi as regularly as at nomo. But as I was saying about tho Doctor " "Don't let iis discuss the Doctor," said Sylvia, getting a little excited. " I don't want to talk of people, and any way 1 must go in." The Professor gently laid his hand on her arm, aim nyivia at once shook It off Miss Sylvia," he began, "between us not from my choice, 1 beg you to acknow- icuge you are, i can understand, In a posi tion trying to a person of sensitive tempera ment." " I am sleepy," said Sylvia, " If that is what you mean. "A better person than Felix Kennedy docs not live," the Professor continued, "but he Is hasty. 1 like to move slowly and with caulinn. I consider my action, I act with Judgment." "But I al sleepy," said Svlrla. "Do not prevaricate," said the Professor. "Believe me, you had better listen to mo." "1 wish I knew lust what vou aro going to say" but then Sylvia paused and blushed. "I am not goinr to sav anything frightful. You are safe in listening to me. 1 am not as obtuse as Kennedy seems to think. It would be a very obtuse man Indeed, Miss Sylvia, who could live with you and be in sensible to your charming nature." "Yes I dare say," said Svlvia, a littlo ab sently, "but I must go In now. It is cold." "I would like," said the Professor, not heeding this, "to be frank with you." "Frank!" exclaimed Svlvia. "Why I never knew such frank people! It Is terri ble. If you want to please me, 'do be a little reticent." "I want to please you," the Professor said briskly, "but I do want to tell you some thing. Do you know, I have been planning, vaguely, but hopefully, to take you home with me." "I wouldn't go!" cried 8ylvla, stopping and leaning against the poroh railing. "I have my own work, my own life, my own interests. Why can't you men understand that?" said the Inconsistent creature. "You think all women want to marry. I don't 1 Perhaps, I once thought I would, but now, why nothing on earth would tempt me!" " You wroni me, Miss Sylvia," said the Professor. " I meant to leave you free. I meant you to have your studio, your own friends, your own pursuits. Had I lived in New York, I should not have hesitated to speak to you; but I did not like to ask you to go to Boston, and leave bo much behind you." " That proves." said Svlvia. who was her. self now both oxclted and frank, "how little men understand women. Do you suppose I would hesitate to follow any one I loved to the North Polo? Boston, Indeed! Why. I wouldn't have put It in the balance !" " But see how vou excite vourself." said the Professor; "I really don't deserve your wrath. I know that too bold approaches are likely to alarm a sensitive lady." on, 1 am not sensitive," said Sylvia. Ask the Doctor If I am." "Pardon me." he ronlied. "but von are. knew I had no right to disturb your use ful, happy life; but Josie loves you so wcl your Influence over her is bo good, that I thought you might consent to become her governess." Oh 1" cried Sylvia, and she walked quick ly down tlie porch. "The position in Boston, vou understand. very honorable; Bnd In my family, and with your own social talents" "Snare me vourcoin ailments." Intarnmt. Salvia, who felt curiously enough at this moment, "lean assure you that 1 never mean to be a governess, but I do love Josie." " I know you do. But, not to take up the seoond point. I have now other views. Let fasten on your shawl more closely; you coiu. " No, indeed," Sylvia replied, "I amhot!" "Now." said the Professor, still sneakinc gently and evenly, "I have changed my mind. I still want you to go to Boston, but want to marry you. Forgive me if I am abrupt. I meant to break this to you more politely, but the Doctor Is in a torpedio con dition. I am forced to seem rough and In considerate, but 1 have learned to love vou dearly. 1 could forgive you anything. Y ou could not offend mo. Miss Svlvia," and horo betook hold of her arm again "tell you forgive me I If you are angry with now, may I not sometime again plead cause ? In a month t May I not come then to vou ?" Sylvia laughed, she oould not help It, the Professor's faoe grew red. " It Is very funny," she said. " It is very provoking." retorted the Pro fessor. "I will never, nevor forgive Ken nedy! If he had not precipitated matters, would not have been offended with mo, you might have given me a hearing, at least." Oh. no. I shouldn't. that is. T should have had but. one answer for you," said Sylvia, quite forgetting her old plans upon point. "But you ought to proceed more logically and In order. You ought first have asked me to become your governess, then you could have tried me in that capacity, and if I suited" Don't scolT." said the Professor. " 1 deeply in earnest, and " uooa-n ghi " cried svlvia. dart ng In at. door as they passed it " good-night!" The next dav Svlvia had her breakfast. early, and saw no one but Josje; but about noon there was a knock at her door which answered in person. It was the Doctor. "I thought, perhaps "he beian: anil noticing her books and dresses on the " By George you are not packing up 1" " Yes, I am," she answered. " Didn't the landlord tell you the news? I have asked my bill, and I goby the afternoon tram." "Driven away!" ejaculated the Doctor. By Jove, It Is too bad !" " Letters," said Sylvia gravely" import ant letters." " I dare say," said he, "and the mail not yetlnl Tell me, are you offeuded?" Sylvia made no reply. You couldn't be offended with Arnold," said; " he is too gentle to offend anv But I I am a bear! Will you forgive Sylvia hesltntpd a hiilf moment before she the bund he offered. "One of you," suid impulsively, " did not menu to of fend. I um sure of thut." , Yes, I know," he answoroil, in a melun chollyt.ne; "he never does. Hut then, neither did I. The mischief-is I doullthe I don't moan and don't wun't to do." Sylvia looked up at him with geutle, amuned eyes. "Hut tell nic," he resumed, in his usual mnnner, " you don't reully mean to ko uwuy leave things In this condition?" What condition)'" ssked Sylvia. "You understand. Now see here, Miss Sylvia, I don't want you to treat the Pro fessor badly. Y'ou oulit to be decently po lite to him. And there is .losie you must forget her. You ought to answer one of "I have but one to answer," Bald Sylvia, putting her hand on the knob of the'door, f wouldn't mind being treated with a decent politenesB myself." " Yes, yes," and the Doctor looked a little blank. "Hut somehow 1 can not realize I have cut myself off, by being; so very considerate. It teas rattier stuuid now, wasn't it?" The whole affair Is stupid," 'Sylvia re plied. "But won't you please ko away, let me finish my paekin? I don't want be left, and I bate to hurry." Tho Doctor put his foot against the door keep her from closing it. "Tell me one thing," he said, with a good deal of entreaty his voice: "you are not going to refuse of us?" I am not going to accept both of you the same day; and I do wish you would remember that you have never asked me. do go, that's a good fellow." ' But, Miss Sylvia," and the Doctor's face grew eager, VOU Will mil mmmn,. i.i.i.i! on, Miss Hylvla, o'on'f accept your hrsl i.ffur !" "That Is mean !" sa'd Hylvla, .nil her face samii coior as tne liouior's, ami bul b were red. " J thought you were going to Im so chivalrous, ami sll that stuff, and here" nil 7011 iion t love nun," said the Doe tor. as she paused, " and of ooirrte you mean to love Ui man you marrr." . 'I rtalnly do; hut how do you know I don't?" said the Incoherent Sylvia, and she .. ..... ir,ln w run a spot on ine door wllh her finger. At that moment Mrs. Itelmor, armed with brush and dust. pan. came down the hall. "See here!" cried the Doctor, turning quickly, "won't you that's a good woman WOll'l vrtl, ll.r..u. ..1.1 .., i. .... ... . vnl nii.. uncr mer ' At this Sylvia gave his foot a vicious little push with her own, and banged her door shut. " Do you know," and the Doctor's solemn iiiiuuicr impressed his landlady, "thatl awfllllv sorrv for thi. I'r..r...u... t "Why, you don't mean to say that any thing has happened to him !" she exclaimed. "No, not exactly," he replied. "But I am Borry all the same. He'll be terribly cut "P. You see, he was so sure. N,.i I wasn't, don't deserve It, and he did. And 1001 1 am swruiiy sorry!" "Well, you don't look so," said Mrs. man who was in a very good humor, you Z ,' """-''' oci, in wuimr, going ner wav. "II ever I saw a Learning to Swim. "That's a fact," said Mr. Hopkins. as he laid down his paper the other evening, every man, woman and child in the country ought to know how to swim. No one can toll what minute ha will be upset, blown up or knocked overboard. Amanda, I'm going to learn you how to swim." " Learn me?" queried the wife, as she paused in her sewing. " Yes, you. Your lifo Is very precious to me, and I don't want vou to lose it because you can't swim ashore when an accident takes place. 1 can swim like a duck myself, and I feel guilty to think we've been married twenty-one years and yet you'd go to tho bottom like a stono if you'd fall overboard." " Why, I never had tho least fear," she replied. "There is always some hero around to rescue a lady." " No one wants to depend on heroes. Of course, I'd jump into the water to save a lady, but there aro lots of rcn who wouldn't. Stand up, Amanda, and let me give you tho motions of swim ming. Now, then, put your hands so, push them forward so, take a sweep and bring them back so. See how easv it.'e doneP You mustn't forget to kick ev ery time you move your arms." She went through the motions several times, but so awkwardly that he called out: That isn't the wav! The mntinnn ought to be perfectly natural. Now imagine that you are out on an excur sion." "Yes." " You lean over tho rail to view anmn floating object." " les." " You suddenlv stow di.zv and turn. ble headlong into the river. "Now what motions would you make as you rose to i.ne sunacer vt nat would you OOF" " Well, if a hero jumped in after me i ot lean my head on his shoulder like this and let him put his right arm around my waist and support nre until help ar rived." " Hero be-hanged ! A hero would look nice holding up 190 pounds, wouldn't he?" " He'd look as nice as you would! I don't believe you oould keep your head above water to save your life." "I couldn't, eh I Then I won't learn you a single stroke about swimming!" "Then you needn't!" "And If any man ever jumps over board and rescues you I'll punch his head!" "And if you ever jump in after any body I know I'll have to pay their fune ral expenses out of my share of this property!" " Very well," said Mr. Hopkins as he put on hiacoat, "I see I'm not wanted in my own house. If I am not home to night it won't do vou anv sood to tele . phone mo at the office, for I shall have the wire grounded!" Detroit Free Press. s Order on the Farm. Many farmers fail in making their farms profitable for want of order. Whether on a small farm where the work is all dono by the owner, or on a large farm where several hands are em ployed, there must be au early and a regular hour for rising in the morning. Each hand or man should know the evening previous just what he is to do in the morning, and if possible for the entire day. If chores are his first em ployment, then he can go at them with out waiting for orders. If he is to use a team, he can have it fed, curried and harnessed ready. The wagon or imple ment he is to use can be oiled and in place ready to hitch to. The proprietor must make sUrie9 short with common callers, and yot courteous. He can also by a judicious system and study of tho situation encourage any superior or am bitious help to excel in their labors. lie always at home to direct, aid, and counsel in all departments. Discourage all careless and loose practices. Strive to cultivate and continue a good feeling between laborer and employer. Have stated times, and rigidly enforce them, for meals, for milking, for commencing we regular wora anu ior retiring irom the field. Make the farm produce su perior crops, and raise the best stock of all kinds. All kinds of produce of the garden, orchard, vineyard, dairy or farm should be nut up honestly, but in the most attractive style for market. If business or pleasure take you from the farm,-let tho family know the pre cise hour you will return. And let them by your punctuality know that your engagements are reliable. Mako all worthy hands, or boys on tho farm, oc female help in tho house feel that they are your equals in rights and respectability. Order, harmony and punctuality ara important for success in any enterprise. lowu stale Myister. A a it of A Bad Drink for Ladies of Fashion, It is related that a Rochester (N. Y.) lady who recently wont to Avon Springs with a picnio party found herself in an unpleasant predicament. The party reached the springs and were enjoying themselves sipping the waters, etc, when a friend of the lady in question discovered a remarkable change com ing over the features of her companion. Her face began to assume a mottled ap pearance, black and white alternating. She was asked if she was sick, and re plied in the negative, but her face be came so discolored that her friends in sisted on sending for a physician, who, on arriving and examining his supposed patient, smiled and asked her what kind of paint she used. The lady tartly re plied that she did not paint, but only used a powder similar to that used by her daughter, who was present and whose face was blooming. The physician attributed the discoloration to the pow der, and it is supposed that it contained some chemical that changed color on contact with the sulphurus vapor from the spring. Rochester Union. the in and far in The The to It stiff the the PITH AND POINT. KxmnmiTO, who is forevnr reeling out the same old yarn, explains by say ing that he has always heard that one story's good until another one's told, and he doesn't propose to spoil his by telling another. Il-jnton Tranrit. Wmkm a pair of lovers are silling alone In a parlor conversing about hive and other sentimental things, the sud denness with which the young man changes tho sulrject to domestic econo my when the lady's paternal parent en tors the room almost make the young man's collar button fly tAl.hiwjharn. ton Itcjrubtiintn. " Ik I paid this bill," said the patient debtor, " you would lose your occupa tion; you wouldn't have anything to do." " Oh, yes," said the creditor, I would lie down and rest while I hail my boom re soled." Then the patient debtor paid it. With a note, we think : we can tell in a minute, just wait till we look. Yes, it was a lutia.llamk-rye. Whkr the indulgent mother calleth her son she gently and in high soprano notes sercamx-th, "Charliee! Jhar-li-e-e!" Hut Charles cometh not nor doth ho give the sound a thought, but gooth about the business of his play. Hut when his sire, enraged at the dila tory motions of his offspring, calleth quickly and sharply, "Charles Fred erick !" Charles Frederick hustleth nomeward with alacrity, merely stoj. ping by the way to insert the cover ol his oest spelling book where it will do the most good. New Daren Ittyixtcr. Wf.ll, Hannah, isn't it nioe to be screened up in good shape?" remarked Mr. Smiley, as lie drew up his chair to the breakfast table, " We get plenty of light and cheerfulness and no flies Just think, Hannuh, no Hi I declare there's one little cuss of a fly on tho sugar bowl; but never mind; what's one lly? Hello, there's another angel of destruc tion dipping his wing in the milk, and there's one wmllng in the butter, and here's two more trying to pass them selves off for blueberries in this pic. Hannah! You are to blame for this. Here are one, two, three, four, five, six, seven yes, Hannah, I presume there are nieh onto a hundred Hies rirrht. hern in this room. What is theiweof screens, Mrs. Smiley? I will take 'em nit and sell 'em for old junk, and let the Hies have free oourse here and spoil every thing, ves I will.1' And as he brand ished the carvinir knife in the air a tlv tickled his nose in high glee at the pro. pect for his brothers on the outside. New Haven Ileyister. The Flags of France. A few facts about the flairs of France may not come amiss at this time. .She has had many, from the blue cloak ol St. Martin, adopted in 4'J8 by Clovis as his standard. There Were A nnmhpr r1 devices for centuries, the red flag of St, i ""J inoseoi wnite ana niue, eacn inscribed with various emblems. The wnite Iliiz ceased in 1790. and on Or. so oi mat year M. Wonon's Dronos t on to make the tri-color tho flag of the navy was adopted, Lafayette some time pieviousiy naving induced the Pari Commune to accept that combination wu uiny ii, ko, tne tri-color was blessed at the Isotre Dame by the Arch nisnop of I'ans, each of the flags then aisiriDutea bearing the words: " Dis cipline and Obedience." Acnonlinir tn Peiffer it would appear that the tri-color originated with Louis XVI. himself. Ho says that in 1784 he invited forty farmers to dine at Court, and when they had been seated he bade the courtiers present, including one Bishop, ' to take iiapaiiis ana serve our fathers." In memory of this event a tronhv wai erected bearing tho elligv of the Kin above representations of the three es tates, tho nobility by a noble in silver and white, the clergy by a Bishop in ieu, nun tne commoners uy a farmer in blue. The Restoration brought back tho white flugs strewn with lilies" and ornamented with the escutcheon of France, the eagles being replaced with spear-heads. These colors were pre sented by Louis XVIII. and his brother to tho troops Sept. 7, 1S04. On Juno 1, 1814, Napoleon and his brother gave me caries uaca to tne troops, who swore henceforth never to recognize another rallying-point, and to defend the em blems. But on March 27, 181(5. Louis 111. distributed his white flags again, and truly an old soldier might have re marked with Talleyrand, when asked how many oaths he had taken, " This is my thirteenth I hope it may bo the last." The Commune of 18:10 ailontml black and red flag, but in three days was replaced by tho tri-color, and on Aug. 19 of that year thirty-two flags were given to 60,000 of the National Guard by Lafayette, who received them from Louis Philippe. A Oallic cock surmounted each of these flags. There have been various other distributions of flags, from that of the Provisional Gov ernment on April 28, 1848, to that of o.ne Jiinporor Napoleon III." Silk Handkerchief Dresses. I he novelty introduced late in the season is the Parisian costume made of handkerchiefs of silk about the quality thin Surah or foulard. At present they are imported by the modistes only, and are not seen in the largo furnishing omiro. ocmai oi uiese uresses nave been sent to Newport and other seaside resorts, where they are said to rival the Jersey suits as the conspicuous novel ties of summer wardrobes. Tho best qualities are twilled and soft like Surah, and tho center of the handkerohief is usually changeable, while tho border is stripes or plaids made up of the colors that are mincrled in the center. Odd contrasts are also used in these colors ; tnus rea is maae to change with dark blue or green, or pale blue combines with old gold, while violet and buff are together. Some times a Scotch plaid border a handkerchief of solid color. way of making these dresses is also quaint and old-fashioned, and they are worn with a great deal of lace about neck, wrists, and front of the cor sage. The pointed waists are shirred the front and back to the ends of tho long sharp points, and there is also full ness shirred on tho shoulders. A fichu collar of the silk adds still more to this appearance of fullness. The largo silk handkerchief is then cut diagonally, one of the three-cornered pieces is attached on each side, making a point below tho hips, while a space Is left front for the shirred point of the waist. The back is full and straight, with deep shirring on the single flounce. entile front breadth, which is nar row, is covered with clusters of shirring. wide Languedoc laco is niauo creamy, and, 1 deed, often quite vellow, mako It look like " real" ofd laco. is put on in gathers instead of the pleatings used last year, and is al lowed to fall about, in easy neglige fash ion, making an irregular jabot down front of tho waist, and loose fi (lis on sleeves and neck. Darper' Bazar. Our Young Folks. GOING TO WORK. Cnwrnlnnr, forth work l ronrtr; K'Hiirh It mny In rninrh. touifb uni bar.; Hut r jrt rwi yimnt H, m-nit, boid and pnMiy Lltr' tritme'f bfiflnnlnir lad. I'lajr your CHrrl. Corn alontr. Mothr iftrT. Ht thi rt'KMtrp rryina: Wf II, hut urn- hit n hiMVf hffirl, t.ro; She'll xryU), Kl-l-ttHT" 1 1 hi i Kin IJko try ititt Hhe prom) ttt hnvlnr ft m like you. Ouiif) tkUmtf, Vfnifiif hh nhf Ik. hor hnlr In whltnlnif: Hh- ha plow l tbroiiKh tit m.rtitW 4wp. Wbi-n h; I'wik in your fato h'-t vym i.'in lir!jfhrtilri Oh, Mtiuiuc, if cvtr yni make ttam weopl f.'omt- alunff. lirnvo. Iat! How 1 he brnwr K'-tvty In fin mif-h at y rhffk fluhrm! i ran? I hnvii u I wuy a friit b in u,v ttmt l.iu-h'H Sunt! will biu-h fur him wb-n b- a man, (.omoalonir, 'irjKr'f iiaxar. BROWNIE'S FIRST CALL UPON THE SICK. A FEW dnvs aim Brown!- ... .!,, , ' .-, - , " on the floor quietly playing with her oys while her mamma was talking with two lad.es. when her attention was sud- denly arrested by hearing one of the ladies sav: "I understand that Mrs. Barns been quite sick." has Brownie immediately thought of tho party she had attendeif at Mrs. Barns' a few weeks before; and as one of her sisters had just recovered from a three weeks' illness she at once became doubly interested. She thought she ought to go and call upon Mrs. Barns, as so many had called upon her sister wnen sne was sick. She spran? up. and was iust about to ask her mamma s pcrm.ssion when it ........,.. ... , i. , umniiim "mi repcaieu.y mm ner she must not inter- nipt tier wnen sue was talking. .She thought she would ask one of her Sisters. Sill. Qin intn tl.n ailt'inrr. room, but thev were not there. Then she went into the kitchen. Bridget was out, but on achair shesawBriilget's large straw sun-hat. She concluded to go without permission; so she put the j hat on, and was goin? out of the kitch-1 en door when she happened to think that a number of ladies and young girls ' had brought her sister somethinglo eat during her illness. She went to the pantry, and there she saw two large tin pans of molasses cake that Bridget had just baked. She took one cake up in her arms and started oiT. Mrs. Barns was silting in a rocking- by the bedside, when she thought she heard the patter of little feet on the stairs. Looking around, she saw a child standing In the doorway. She could not imagine who it was, for the hat quite covered her face and shoulders. p ..... u 1. .i a i""-"": "vi vitc iuic uu me Hour, and, while holding up the broad rim of the hat in front with both hands, said: " 1 corned right in, you see. Sister . said our door-bell was a perfec' nuis- ance when she was sick, so 1'spect yours ' is, too." , j She then took up the cake, and. set- ' ting it on Mrs. Barns' lap, said, sniil-1 inglv: "1 bringed you a cake for your sick-' " Well, Brownie, this is very kind of you," said Mrs. Barns. j Brownie sat down on a hassock at j Barns' feet, and, looking up in her ' face, said: I m" I 'spect you feel pretty forlorn." j - i nave icit very Daiuy, out 1 am al most well now. I am siire this cake will do mo a great deal of good." " Of course it will," said Brownie. "H you had a knife." she continued, "you could cut us both a piece." " I have a knife here on the stand. This is the best cake I've had since I've been sick. It does taste so good"' said Mrs. Barns. " Bidget makes very good cake," said Brownie, while eating a piece. " Do you have our doctor? 'I don't, know whether we have the same one or not. What is the name of your doctor?" asked 'Mis. Barns. "Oh, he is des named Doctor. Ho has got white hair, and gold ou his i cane, cut i woman t vise you to take his mod'eine. Sister says his powders you something," and Brownie took hold ! of Mrs. Barns' hand; "if vou Awe to take it, if vou must take it, ii thev make 1 taste norriir: noma: nut let me tell you take it, why, may be my mamma I will give you a booful jumping-rope, if I you des swallow it without making any fuss about it. Mamma gave sifter one She then stooped down, and, while picking up some crumbs of bread, said, " Are vou going to take a ride as soon as you are able to get well?'J " Yes, I want to go out riding as soon as I pofsibly can." "Well, I'll tell vou des what to do," said Brownie. "Vou go to tho limey stauie, rigt.t oy the Menus unurch, ana they'll give you a carnage. Then you des come for me and I'll take you. Only I cau't drive, j'ou must 'mem ber."" "I will certainly take vou with me. Brownie, the very first tinio that I am able to take a ride." Has the minister been here to gee you vet?" Brownie asked. "iio; I guess he don't know that I am sick." replied Mrs. Barns. "That's 'cause you didn't send him word," said Brownie, earnestly. Mamma says when you are sick, if yon want your min'ster to corned and see you, you must send him word; 'cause he ain't 'spected to know who all sick in a church des as full as full. He prayed, too. Our min'ster is des the best Christian! We all like him." Brownie then took the knife and handing it to Mrs. Barns, said: " I think we could both eat another piece of cake; don't you?" " Without the least difficulty." an swered Mrs. Barns, smiling. vv inio sue was cutting tne cake Brownie got up, and, leaning on Mrs. Barns' shoulder, said: " Have vou had to have a muskard graft on the back of your neck yet?" No, Brownie, 1 have not." ' You better be e-lad. You wouldn't ike it pretty good. Sister savs thev burn awfult awful! But ii the doctor says you musi have it on, it won't do airy good for you to cry about it. You'll des nave totiave it. Mamma says, and papa, too, that whon vou have a doctor you must do des what he tells you to." Brownie then picked up the hat. which she had thrown on the floorwhen she came in. "This ain't my straw hat. It is Bid- s. It is too large for me; but that don t make no d.llnunce. I dess 1 11 go home now. Oh! are vou going to have another party for little children again?" 1 don t think 1 11 have one very soon. Why, Brownie? ' 'Oh, nothing; only I can come when you do have another one. You'll 'vile mat little lame girl again, won t your" "Certainly I will, replied Mrs. Barns. She has got a booful dress to wear now when she comes. You know my other dress not this one I don't mean 1 ' ' : If U-hef is well, my mamma made it all bran new for hor, and crimmcd It with blue erimmlngs, and It dos tit her as nice as nice can b." Brownie t.hon laid hur hand on Mrs. Barns' head, and while fondly stroking hor hair, suid. in a pleading tone: "Please 'vito litle Chiikcry, this time, too." " Who is Cliickery, BrownieP" "Oh! ds littlo poor Chlokery. She lives 'round our turner, fche is blind, you know. She can't see a speo'led bit of anything. And she ain't never been yiuid to a party in all her live days. She telled mo so. I ll bring her when the party is. I'll take hold of her hand, else all the wasrons will run nod right over her, 'cause she can't soo no wag on. PI! be des as careful of her as careful. Her mamma is dead, and her papa speaks very cross to hor. But you better b'lievo we never do. She comes to my house lots of timos. We dus send for hnr. Sometimes she stays two or free days with us. Poor littlo C'hiekery I" ..v.. ii.... fi.t.. ..i ii i. 7. ' v . . "n . niviieii. Ann ior your sake 1 think I 11 j have another party very soon. You are a good little girl. Yon are so kin I to hei,.k, the poor and the blind God will eroatlv ,"..;, Z I iMirns, Kissing her again and again, "Of course you must be good to the nn: aim me D.inu, cause tl.ey can t take of theirselves," said Brownie, put- iiiiK .in inu um. iioou-oy. Good-by, darlinir: I have cnioved your call very much, indeed." When Brownie was half-way down the stairs, she cried out: Mrs. Barns. von musn't ; 'scoura"ed. get Papa savs it hurts von tn rrtt 'm.nill.uirn.1 u-lw.n .... f..1- i and if '.h,..7...w J ',' I ... j ncss well you needn't be 'fraid to send ior mc, cause 1 cause i can coined mos anv time.1 Christian Union. The Fourth or July. "lm,ng irom tne use of lire-crackers, P't'l. on the last July 4th, and" the results were as follows: Ki"cd by the discharge of cannon, P"n3 ttn1 P'stoU, ten; seriously wondod, thirty; amputations of arm ?r,.i1 from '"juries received, six; killed by tires resulting from hre-crack- ,ett- '""ri slightly injured, one ""'"dred and four; houses burned, five., 1 hls '',t casualties was nearly doubled in New York. In both cities J"8."?? 8hwers put an end to the re chair '"?,'"? earlv in tne afternoon, and in Philadelphia shooting of crackers or pistols was prohibited by law, or the ?uml'ef of deaths and acoidenta would po uugn to compensate r tnls annual slaughter of life and happiness all over the country? Is there no more ational way of cele-" brating the National birthday? A clty clergyman, before the last Fourth of July, proposed to the chil- dren of hi" parish to form an Anti ncss." Powder Association. The money which they would have spent on crackers, powder, pin-wheels, etc., was put in a common fund, and an excursion or Mrs. ganged to the seashore, to which each contributor had the right to invite one ni.atieipnia an estimate wag m'e ' the accidents and injuries re- have been much larger. It is quite time that our bovs anii young men asked themselves seriously concerning this mnttir. "flnaa it nans'' : n ' ' . " the delight of making a noise a tas'e wb'ch we share with the macaw poor little child chosen by himself. ineaay was a nanny, merrv one: as hafliy for the children who gave the unwonted pleasure to the forlorn little waifs, as to those who received it. In stead of death and suffering, the holi day brought a breath of life and health, and the enjoyment of Heavenly charity to them all. If children continue to abuse the day, it is because grown people neglect to show them a better way to keep it than by this senseless, dangerous hub bub which custom has sanctioned so long. YoullCs Companion. Besieged by a Bear. A few days since G. W. Colby, the prominent rancher of Nord, had an ad venture in the mountains which gave proof to the saying that bear-huntin? is "rlpht 80 ,onS 03 yu hunt the bear. ut "'ghty poor 'sport when the b,ear hunU '.u: He .bad taken his fam- m, one,01 ms inches near the Butte mc.adows for a short season of rest, and b,einJf an f denJl sportsman he took plenty of ammunition. For two or three days he tramped around the hills, but found the game rather scarce. But on his next hunt he had all the sport he wanted, and seasoned with just enough excitement to make it interest ing. Ho had gone out late in the after noon and in a few moments managed to bag a good-sized bear. While gloat ing over his prize he was horrified to hear some furious growls, and, turning round, saw not ten feet distant another huge " varmint making straight for hiin. He instantly dropped his gun and shinned up a small sapling with all the agility of a monkey. The bear had him treed, and after snufliug the dead body of its mate he gave some frightful yells and oamo to the tree and camped for the night. It was a case of siege, and things looked squally. The night was cold and dark, and Mr. Colby's po sition was anything but agreeable, but he froze to his elevated perch like grim death to the negro. He was kept there all night and well along into the next day, when his tyrant became frightened at something and left fur the brush. Mr. Colby at once left tho spot and now looks for smaller game. Chico Cot.) Enterprise. The Khedive in Exile. A correspondent of the Journal de Geneve, who was lately invited to visit the ex-Khedive of Kgypt in his retire ment a: Kcsina, gives some curious de tails of the present life of the deposed Prince. Ho is described as spirituel, in telligent and affable, extremely pol ished in manner and capable of talking with ease on a vast variety of subjects. Ho looks very like a Frenchman and his guests are invariably delighted with the reception which he acooi ds to them. you chance to arrive about breakfast time His Highness will almost cer tainly invite you to partake of "his fru gal repast." This "lrugal repast" con sists of eight or nine dishes a la Frau- oaise, choice wines and an exquisito dessert, all served in a style of lordly luxury. The servants wear rich liver ies, the plates aro silver and gold, and the vessels of crystal and oorcclain are d'oeuvres of art. But there is no absurd notion of etiquette; conversation free and unconstrained, and every body does and says what he likes. For the rest, there are few signs of luxury. The furniture of the villa is extremely simple, and though the permnncl of the household is numerous there is no un necessary display. As to the Khedive's present income little is known. If Dot. excessive it is at least plentiful, fon his expenditure nuvet be sQiuclhingbon siilerublu.