§\)t gttytyen* City Jfrtor. ;
HERE SHALL THE PBESS THE PEOPLE'S lUGHTS MAINTAIN, UtfAV/ED BY INFLUENCE AND TJNBRIBED BY GAIN.
By ben. s. GiLMORE. (joTtA., Saturday" vol. u- --no. 26.
. _ _ . - ■■ —
!■ .11l . -
Persian Serenade.
Hark ! as the twilight pale
Tenderly glows,
Hark ! how the nightingale
Wakes from repose .
Only when, sparkling high,
Etnrs All the darkling sky.
Unto the nightingale
Listens the rose.
Here where the fountain-tide
Murmuring Hows,
Airs from tho mountain-side
Fan thy repose.
Eyes of thine glistening,
Look on me, listening ;
I am thy nightingale,
Thon art my ro3e.
Sweeter the strain he weaves,
Fainter it Gowrs
Now, as her balmy leaves
Blnshingly close.
Better than minstrelsy.
Lips that meet kissingly
Bilencc thy nightingale—
Kiss me, my rose 1
— By Bayard Taylor,
r.mmmm.^mmmmmmm^.mmmmmm
GLEN ALLEN.
A heavy mist hung gloomily above
the peaks of the Wicklow mountains, a
damp dullness pervaded the atmos
phere; piles of sullen clouds lowered
from the frowning skies and narrowed
the already narrow horizon; a veil of
moisture robed the meadows and dnllod
the clatter, up the uneaven country
road, of the approach of a small band
of mounted dragoons.
"Halt!"
"'Twas a stern, sonorous voice—a
voice that would make you lift your
eyes quickly and instinctively to scan
the Owner. It proceeded from stern,
firm but handsome lips. It was en
forced by keen glitter of a pair of dark
gray piercing eyes; by the majesty of a
free commanding form and by an air
of native power entirely unassumed.
The party drew up before one of
those pretty cottages that have so nat
urally sprung up in the beautiful wilds
of Wicklow. A rustic gate stood half
open and revealed a small and taste
fully laid out garden with neatly ke"t_
walks, inviting the pressure of the in
truder's foot. A porch, half-buried in
woodbine, low windows draped in soft
folds of white lace, through which the
rye might trace a faint impression of a
pleasant interior—these met the gaze
of Captain Howard as he pushed wide
the gardfn gate and strode within.
The slow, irregular notes of a harp, as
though the player, following a vague
fancy, wandered aimlessly over the
chords, arrested for a moment the ad
vance of the dragoon. With a sudden
impulse he turned backward to his
•n«», and merely saying, "Wait till my
retu'ii," he moved wi'h measured steps
to the porch and knocked.
'Twas strange that in the few mo
ments between his summons and the ap
pearance of a whiteheaded domestic the.
image of a sweet face he had seen and
loved in another land should present
itself so forcibly to his imagination;
and stranger still that, as he lifted his
eyes from that glance into his own
hidden heart, he could almost swear
the fate looked at him f»: an instant
from the diamond windows near.
Slightly moved, he saluted the porter
by requesting to speak with the master
of the house, at the same time gently
insinuating he would beav him com
pany as his business was too urgent to
admit of even tho delay of waiting the
gentleman's permission.
"Deed, then, I'm aleard he'll be mad
enough with me for letting you come
in uninvited, I may say," said the old
man; "b',t come along--andnivcr wel
come you," he continued under his
teeth, ' you Saxon hound. See, sir,
here's a gentleman soldier was in sulh
■ hurry to sco you ho wouldn't wait
>'or me to bring in his name."
Seated in an arm-chair, reading or
pretending to read, by a cheerrul fire,
the person addressed looked up, laid
down his book, deliberately wiped his
glasses, and resuming them, surveyed
his visitor.
Mine is an errand much to my dis
taste, sir," the dragoon began." My in
trusion would be unpardonable, but
that astern duty brings me here, and I
have i.» entice but to obey."
The occupant of the arm-chair made,
an effort to sp ak, bu - , hough his lips
moved, no sound escaped 'f.cm. He
was a ver> elderly man, and very del
icate coking, with a nerv - s twitch
ing, closing and uncicsing of the hand
iio'ding th' spectacles. He motioned
th< v.goon to a seat, and agfiin looked
In Mk i^ - * interrogatively.
Chjiipj Howard waa less and ,
less pleased with his mission. He .
was a haughty man, but with a good i
and noble heart, straight-faced in out- <
ward coldness and formality. He was I
an Englishman by birth, and did not <
consider himself bound in any ungen- (
crous crusade when he offered his ser- <
vices to the Government for the pur- s
pose of quelling the Irish insurrection, i
But taking the field and playing po- f
liceman are two different things. At I
least, so Captain Howard considered, 1
and 'twas with mortification he found <
that the role of dragoon captain in Ire- <
land was at the time more than half '
police exercise. Begistering an inward i
vow to resign his coramissien at the I
first opportunity, the captain returned
to the object of his mission. i
"This place, is it not called Glen Al- <
len ?" J
The old gentleman motioned assent. ,
Unfolding a document, the Captain .
continued; "The Government having \
had information that in this house is ]
concealed a notorious rebel, for whose \
capture a large reward is offered, lam ]
deputed to search the premises and as- )
certain the correctness of the informa- ]
tion. As a loyal man you are required j
to render all due assistance in the in- j
vestigation." ,
The old gentleman, rising in a stately j
manner, signified his willingness, and (
with a strange repugnance to the per- ,
formance of the duty, Captain Howard ,
ordered from the doorway half his men ,
to surround the house and arrest any
one attempting to escape, the remain
der to enter the house and await his
orders.
AVhile the search progressed he stood '
with arms folded and gloomy brows,
following mechanically from room to
room. Suddenly his gaze fastened on
! a picture—an oil painting—of a brown
ringleted girl, with soft, hazel eyes,
childlike in their candor and innocence,
and sweet red lips, occupying the place «
of honor over the mantel shelf. It was
the face that had haunted him for a
twelve month, the face of a girl that
he had met in London society, had fol
lowed ineffectually and had loved un
reasonably. It was a face he had sud
denly lost sight of, and sought in vain
until now. He learned from the old 1
man that it was the picture - 'of a re- ]
lative" at present staying with him.
With unconcealed anxiety the captain 1
requested to be allowed to see the origi- 1
nal of the picture, and the old gentle
man, humoring his visitor's strange i
fancy, left the room and returned pres
ently with a young lady whose extreme ;
pallor was hightened by her dress of >
deep mourning and the melancholy of
her soft hazel eyes. At sight of the |
stranger a faint blush dyed her cheek, i
—Captain Howard, much agitated, ad- i
vanced, and, taking her hand eagerly,
: convinced itself by her recognition .
that his fair London acquaintance
stood before him.
"How came it I lost sight of you so :
entirely after that brief London' carni
val," he said, "and how is it I find you j
here in this convulsed country—in this
solitude?" i
"For the first question I can answer,
there is nothing more common than
for casual acquaintances, in a strange
country, to meet, part, lose sight of i
each other, Unless some powerful
incentive remained urging a pursuance
of the acquaintance. To the second I
would answer, this is my native land— ( .
these are my native hills; what place ;
more meet for my residence V" she spoke
half contemptuously, half defiantly. i
"And your brother, the dark-eyed,
Quixotic boy. Great God!" he mutter
ed, "it cannot be."
A deadly pallor spread o\ or the girl's
face; sho raised herself proudly to her
full hight and demand, "Well, sir,
what cannot be?"
He silently handed her the warrant
for the arrest of a dark, slender youth,
name assumed, whose capture wan im
portant to the government, and against
whom there was strong information.
The paper went on to state he had been
known to be connected, on important
occasions, with some of the most prom
inent rebel leaders, and a large reward
was offered for his arrest, alive or dead. :
The lady flushed and paled as her eye t
ran over this document, and her agita- t
tion was not lost on the dragoon.
AVith sudden resolve he said, turning t
to his men:
"There is no necessity to search fur- t
ther, I believe." i
And despite of tha evident aulkiness I
and disaffection of the. disappointed
dragoons, he gave the orders to remount I
and return to Wicklow. Nor could he
fail to mark the sigh of relief that es
caped the lips of the fair girl he had
sought unavowedly to serve. He, in . t
courtly manner, renewed-his apologies j
to the host; trusted for the happiness
of meeting the lady, and, if possible, ' '
serving her; and, with a new lightness;
in his step and the cloud off his brow ;
sprang into the saddle. As he did so a
oud shout broke from the watch set at,
the rear of the house, and the dragoons
quickly appeared, dragging with them
a slight, dark-confplexioned youth,
whose appearance indicated the sharp
ness of the struggle he had made tc
escape.
A week afterward fihe police annalp
were full of the escape of the rebel
captured at Glen Allen, and the sus
picion attached to Howard, the dragoon
captain, who was supposed to hay«
given him facilities to elude lis cap
tors. Though that could not be proved.
Howard was ofliciaßy reprimanded for
his want of vigilanae, and taking the
hint, he retired at oAce from his posi
tion in the army. The day Captain
Howard's resignation was accepted, i
the master of Glen Allen cottage and
his fair relative prepared .to join the
young outlaw of the family in his
refuge at Havre. The cottage bore a :
dreary aspect, all except the garden, in 1
which stood the fair lady to whose in- ■
fluence the exile owed his safety, and
by her side stood Captain HJoward. t
"You will forget that you have ever |
seen me. You will forget you should '
reward me," he was saying earnestly
and yet smilingly. '
"I," she murmured, brokenly, "shall '
never, while life lasts, forget or cease
to be grateful for your generosity; but
1 am poor and obscure, who hiKve been
wealthy and influential. What could I
do to compensate your generous act—
your loss?"
"Much, lady," he said, gentry. "This
little hand, nay. do not remove it—-is
worth a thousand such acts, a thou
sand such losses. Let it repay me."
Sayings from the Chinese.
Human nature came to us perfect,
but in process of time our passions
have corrupted it.
Desire not the death of thine enemy,
thou would'st desire it in vain ; bis
life is in the hands of heaven.
Obey heaven, and follow the orders
of Him who governs it.
Love your neighbor as yourself; let
your reason and not your- senses be, the
rule of your conduct.
Do to another what you would he
should do unto you. Thou only need
est this law alone, it is the foundation
and principle of all the rest.
The tongue, which is yioltf.ing, en
dures; the teeth, which are stubborn,
perish. •
Better be a dog in peace thjm a man
in an anarchy.
To violate the law is the s.tnic crime
in the Emperor as in the subject.
The hearts of the people, aro the
only legitimate foundations of the em
pire or of legitimate rule.
Those who labor with thejlr minds
rule; those who labor with thfeir bodies
are ruled. Pope says: "And those
who think still govern tfcose who
toil.")
A vacant mind is open to all sug
gestions as a hollow mountain returns
all sounds.
When the tree is felled its shadow
disappears. (Desertion of the great
when unfortunate by parasites.)
You cannot strip two skins off one
cow. (A limit to extortion.)
A man's words are like an arrow
close to the mark, a woman's like a
broken fan.
The Chinese call a blustering fellow
a paper tiger.
Overdoing a thing —a hunchback
making a bow.
Who spend their charity on remote
objects, but neglect their family, are
said to "hang a lantern on apole.which
is seen from afar, but gives no light
below."
The greater fish eat the smaller, the
smaller eat theßhrimps,andtheshriru.7's i
are obliged to eat mud; said with ref- i
erence to rulers of different classes.
Patience, and the, mulberry leaf be
comes a silk gown.
Trust not the flatterer; in thy days
of sunshine he will give three pounds
of butter, and in thy hour of need deny
thee a crumb of bread.
A woman's tongue is her sword, and
she does not let it rust.
LADIES DEPARTMENT. is
- " c
Fashion Notes.
Trimmings and draperies, edged with j i
chenille, produce a rich effect. ; j
I/louse waists for children and young : 1
giuls never go entirely out of fashion. |
Bonnet crowns completely shingled : i
Mrith small feathers will be much worn- <
Broad bands in Roman gilt with j (
centre ornaments are used for the front f
of turbetiis. '
Fairy floss and pompadour wool are
the mf>st popular materials for opera
hoods and evening fascinators.
Lisng French redingotes for street ';
wear are made of stockinet, or Jersey j
webbing, and trimed with wide bands j'
of. fur.
The French are combining drab and
fcottle-green, and with bright accesso- .
, ries the/c shades make very attractive
costumes.
Tho picturesque quaintness of chil
dren's dresses, so popular during the (
summer and fall, is still more empha- (
sized this winter. j
The newest turbans of folded cloth i
or velvet are without brims, the folds ,
reaching down to the hair, and are (
witlvbut trimming. j
The blouse waistcoat in colored s
Surah on costumes of velvit and ot- ]
totnan silk is a favorite and beautiful (
atyie for little girls. \
A silk handkerchief, close around .
the throat, inside the wrap, is the ,
proper neckwear with a sealskin jacket, ,
or fur-lined garment.
Brocaded flounces, with the figures ,
of velvet raised on repped silk, are the
elegant trimmings for the fronts of
trained dresses of silk or velvet.
Black is the fashionable color for .
stockiugs, both for ladies and children, j
and black slippers and stockings are
worn for full dress, whatever the color
I
of the toilet. .
Woolen embroideries, executed with ]
fine English crewels, imitate Decca j
shawl work, but are much finer. The
od-'eat have picturesque resemblances to ,
animals here and there among the !.
arabesque patterns. I«
Small ostrich tips of pale colors are j (
worn by matrons in full evening o» ,
dinner toilette this season, a costly j
jewel ornament holding the quills in j
place. A great deal of rich white lace t
is worn. 1
Floral buckles are used to catch up 1
the folds of the drapery of evening I
dresses. These buckles are large and '
square, and are made of cardboard coy- ''
ered with silk; small flowers are then 1
sewed thickly upon them. (
Gold tinsel lace trims puffed white
tulle skirts of ball dresses. The puffs '
of lace arranged alternately form the j'
skirt over its silk lining. The pointed j'
waist is of gold-colored satin edged at ,
the nerk and sleeves with lace.
Some stylish boots of tan-colored .
brocaded velvet have foxings of bronze
kid. Nearly all dress fabrics are con
sidered suitable for the tops of but- ,
toned boots, and each dress has its own
pair of shoes where the coat is not an j
objection.
The most fashionable belts worn |
with house dresses are quite narrow, ]
and have long, slender buckles of ham- J
mered silver, or else of steel overlaid l
with a delicate vine of tinted metals.
Buckles of Guadamaeile leather are
worn upon the ribbed silk belting which
cor.y>f with Paris dresses.
For general wear, button boots con
tinue to be made of French kid, and
have either foxings of enameled leather
or they are of the one material through
out. For wet weather there are strong
walking boots of pebble goat with a
white sole distinguishing the English
make, and red showing American man
ufacture.
1
Aniifriiil Eyebrow. s«tv.,l to tbe Hkln. ]
At a certain factory a number of s
young women were working at small i
tables, each table covered with little t
instruments and things, the like of (
which I had never seen before. At one t
table two girls were threading needles
with fine, silky hair, and sewing them t
lin little squares on a thin, transparent i
gauze, i
"Those girls," said the Professor, •
"are making some of those beautiful
arched eyebrows you may some time ]
see in ballrooms. These sewed on the t
net are the less expensive kind, and are j
only used on special occasions. The \
real brow is very expensive, and cah 1
only be made by a person of great <
I
skill." I begged him to explain the
operation of giving a person eyebrows
who was born without them, and lead
ing me into an elegantly furnished par
lor in which was a large dentist's chair. ;
he continued:
"The patient sits here. In this ctfsh
ion to my left are stuck a score or so
of those needles you saw being thread
ed. Each stitch only leaving two
strands of hair, to facilitate the opera
tion a number of needles must be at
hand. As each thread of hair is drawn
through the skin over the eye it is cut
so that when the first stage of the
I operation is over it leaves the hairs
j bristling out an inch or so, presenting '<
i a ragged, porcupine appearance. Now ;
j comes the artistic work. The brow
must be arched and cut down with the
utmost delicacy, and a number of hours
is required to do it."
"It must be very painful and
tedious ?"
"They don't say that it is a picnic ex
cursion," laughed the Professor: "but
eyebrows, small as they are, are very
important in the make up of the face.
You have no idea how odd one looks
when utterly demanded of hair over
the eyes. The process I have described
is painful, but it makes good eyebrows
and adds one hundred per cent, to the
looks of a person who was without
them. It is, too, much better than the
HaAening and cosmetics so many peo
ple use. especially people who have
mere presence of brows comprising
only'a few hairs."
"Do your sewed-through-the-skin
eyebrows last V" ,
"For years." —New Orleans ricayone.
The Longest Bridge.
The longest bridge now in actual use
I is the one that crosses the St. Lawrence
| river at Montreal—a tubular structure
resting on massive stone piers. One
opening measures 330 feet, and twenty
four others 240 feet each. Its total
length is 9,437 feet, of which the tubu
lar part measures 7,000 feet. The
grandest suspension bridge in the
j world is the one now nearly completed
' across the East river, between New
York and Brooklyn, at the enormous
cost of $13,708,026-, which will reach
about $15,000,000 before it is finished
and equipped. It is 5,989 feet in length.
Another enormous suspension bridge,
which will eventually measure more
than the one just named, is the new
bridge across the Forth, at Queensbury,
Scotland, to be completed in 1882. The
Forth is rather more than a mile wide
at this point, and the necessary ap
proaches will make the entire struc
ture about one and one-third miles
long. A large part of it will rest on
piers, but it will contain two suspen
sion spans, one of which will be the
| same length as the main span of the
New York and Brooklyn bridge.
There is a bridge over the Ohio, at
Louisville, 5,310 feet in length. There
are the Barkersburg bridge, West Vir
ginia, 7,046 feet; the St. Charles bridge,
over the Missouri, 6,536 feet; bridge
over the Delaware, 4,920 feet; bridge
over the Rhine, at Mayence, 3,980 feet;
bridge over the river Tongabudha, near
Bombay, India, 3,730 feet; bridge across
the Missouri, at Omaha, 2,800 feet;
bridge over the Mississippi, at Quincy,
2,790 feet, and the railway suspension
bridge, at Niagara, 2,220 feet.
Protecting His Character.
Entering the shop of his tailor the
other day he said:
"Sir, I owe you $60."
"Yes, sir, you do."
"And I have owed it for a year."
"You have."
"And this is the fifth postal card you
have sent me regarding the debt."
"I think it is the fifth."
"Now, sir, while 1 cannot pay the
debt for perhaps another year, I pro
pose to protect my character as far as
possible. Here are twelve two-cent
stamps. You can use them in sending
me twelve monthly statements of ac
count, and can thus save your
cards and my feelings at the same
time."
It is said that the tailor has credited
the twenty-four cents on account, and
feels that he has secured more of tho
debt than he had any reason to hope
for.
There is many a soul trudging along
life's pathway with weary, uncertain
steps, sad and downhearted, who would,
if there was a kind hand reached out
to help them, walk erect and step
lightly, and even sing while passing
over rough places.
Snonflakes,
Falling all t!.e night-time.
Falling all the Jfly.
or7*t*d-wlnf»d nnd voirolff?*.
Or. their doiraward way.
falling through the darkness,
Falling through tho light,
Covc-riny with beauty
Vale p.ud mountain height—
Never fiimmcv blossoms
Dwelt so fair as those;
Never lay like glory
On *!:e field? nnd tre*s.
Rire thfl any wreathing.
Deftly tamed the scroll.
Hung btwoodland arches.
Crowning meadow knoll.
Freest, chastest, fancies,
Votive art, may be,
Winter's sculptors rear to
Summer's memory.
J. I* Cheney, in the Crt He.
PUNMENT PARAGRAPHS.
A play should be judged by its act*.
Silence is the better part of some
orator's eloquence.
The man who lends his influence
rarely gets it back.
The meat dealer should be a rich
man for hois always ready to make a
steal;.
The best time to offer your hand to
a lady-—when she is getting out of an
omnibus.
Bow to destiny. One of these days
destiny may be polite enough to return
the compliment.
The man who was hemmed in by a
crowd has been troubled with a stitch
in his side ever since.
A new book is titled 'Short Savings
of Great Men." When are we to havn
"Great Savings of Short Men?"
It takes a girl about four hours
longer to Wash the front windows of a
house than the back windows.
So long as the school-teacher keeps
the pupils in his eye nobody can deny
that he has a perfect right to lash his
pupils.
Many a man who snals and growls
at his wife in public is very loving
and tender when no one else is around.
He has to be.
"Whistlers are always good-natured,"
saysn philosopher. Everybody knows
that. It is the folks who have to listen
to the whistling that get ugly.
Somebody has discovered that the
correct pronunciation of the word
Khedive is "Kedowa." They might as
well tell us that the proper way to pro
nounce bee-hive is behowa.
The town of Paris, Tex., has raised
a potato five feet long. The Colorado
beetle hasn't heard of that fashionable
summer resort. When it does we shall
read of a potato hug to match.
Don't squander any time over pre
historic man, but rather put in your
spare hours wondering if the new
family on the corner are the sort of
people to lend coffee and sugar and
baking powder.
"Jones, if burglars should come into
your house, what would you do?" "I'd
do whatever they required of me. I
never had my own way in that house
yet, and it is too late to begin now—
yes, alas ! it's too late 1"
"What are you looking around for so
much V" asked a mother of her sixteen
year-old son, with whom she was walk
ing. "I am looking around on your
account." "On my account?" "Yes.
I want to pick you out a good-looking
daughter-in-law."
The other day a stage driver in the
Black Hills undertook to horsewhip
the passengers into getting out of tho
stage and pushing it up the hill, but
the passengers emptied their revplvcrs
into him a few times, held a coroner's
inquest, and found that hi; had died of
pneumonia.
"1 declare," exclaimed a boarder at a
dinner table recently, "this is the most
affectionate pie lever saw." "Affection
ate pie I" cried every one at the table,
including the landlady. "Yes,"said the
boarder, "the upper and lower crusts
are so affectionate that they won't al
low anything between them."
At a dinner party the little son of
the host and hostess was allowed to
oome down to dessert. Having had
what his mother considered a sufficiency
jf fruit, he w;is told he must not have
any more, when, to the surprice of
every one of the guests, he exclaimed:
"If you don't give me some more I'll
tell!" A fresh supply was at once
given hiui, and as soon as it was fln-
F&hed tie repeated his threat; where
upon h ■ wot suddenly und swiftly re
moved from the room, but he had just
time to convulse the company by «jc
olii'" ..ng: "My new trousers are mad 9
on ~j |.. ; >\ ..'hi l,,'d! - '.MMii (urtainsj"