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New York dispatch. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1863-1899, January 11, 1885, Image 7

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HOW LONG WILL IT LAST?
Lights from (he windows ara gleaming and
glancing,
Music and laughter are echoing near,
Save where the twain move apart from the dancing,
Uttering vows each was longing to hoar.
Tender his tones, in their low modulation.
Timidly downward her glances are cast,
Fyes matched with sapphire, cheeks with carna
tion;
Fair is the picture—how long will it last ?
Think, when old Time, of all jokers the grimmest,
Whitens the tresses and furrows the brow,
Changing the forms that are lithest and slimmest,
Will your affections be steady as now ?
True that to-day, in its ardent devotion.
Love takes no heed of the future or past—
•• Curbing and checking the tide of emotion.
Prudence should whisper: How long will it last?
All were in vain, though the caution be needed,
Prudence is ne’er the companion ol youth;
■Passion for aye leaves unnoticed, unheeded,
Warnings ot wisdom and promptings of truth.
Forging the fetters that bind them together,
Gilding ths hours that are flying so fast,
‘Careless of sunlight or stormiest weather,
Lore never questions: How long will it last?
a ssemluolor.
BY L. G. C.
A morning sun illumined earth and sky. It
flooded the grim old fort with mellow light, that
softened sharp angles, and seemed like a smile
on the taco ot age. It lay along the sea wall in
wait for venturesome waves from the incoming
tide, whose silver spray it caught and studded
with countloss jewels. It blazed upon open,
sandy places, and crept into the old town's nar
row streets, defying shadows that still lurked,
under overhanging galleries, or clung to un
smiling coquina house fronts; and it lit into
vivid colors figures that moved about the morn
ing’s occupations with that languid ease dis
tinctive ot Southern temperament. A little
later the streets would be full of tourists,
pleasure-seekers from Northern States, but now
complexions of every shade from olive to ebony
recalled the fact that Spain once held domin
ion here, and that later, on the vanishing hori
zon of our own time, cruel slavery was lord.
In the East deep blue above bent over deep
bine below. Floating downy cloud-masses
flung purple shadows over sea and land. A
breeze swept from oft the shining water to
mingle with perfumes ot rose and orange flow
ers and steal through open windows, carrying
to late dreamers tales of a reality as sweet as
the visions of their dreams. Miles and miles
away it was Winter; stern, hard ft inter; but
here, in St. Augustine, it was midsummer
warmth anti beauty.
In the open, sandyspaco between the sea wall
and that immense barn-like structure, known
as the St. Augustine Hotel, waited.the familiar
eight of a group of horses ready saddled, ap
parently much dejected at being reduced to the
indiguitv of soliciting riders. Before the ladies’
entrance to the hotel, which opened on this
place, and attended by a darkey whose dilapi
dation compared admirably with that of the
horses, stood three of these melancholy animals
not a whit inspirited by having been chosen
from heir fellows.
On the piazza near by were two young ladies
in riding habits, who were looking with amused
faces at a gentleman coming toward them from
the horses yet unengaged. He, too. was in rid
ing costume, and he gave a dismal shake ot his
head as he approached and stood below the
railing against which the ladies leaned.
“ It’s no use ; they have no better one's now,
if they ever bad. lam assured that these are
‘ fine animals.’ and perhaps it’s my uneducated
mind that deems them otherwise. But mule
riding would be bettor , than walking in this
£lace. Ho ended with a disconsolate glance at
is dust-covered feet.
“ Never mind, dear,” said the shorter of the
.ladies, smiling, and patronizing, aster the
fashion of some happy young matrons when
addressing their liege lords. “We don’t care;
we can put up with dusty roads and poor
horses as chances of travel; beside it is in
Augustine."
Her husband laughed, and beckoning to a
small darky, pointed to his polish-needing
ehoes. “ Madame allows no one else to cavil
at her beloved Augustine, but I seem to hear
the faint echo of a grumble over the wreck of a
dainty pair of boots last night.’’
Mrs. Willett tried to twist her laughing face
into a frown, and failing, covered her small de
teat by remarking that it was time they started.
Through the hotel parlors, the ball, and
down the steps went .the two graceful figures,
out into the sunshine, seeming a very part of
the glad young morning.
Grace Alyng, following her friend, stopped
to smile into the eyes of a small lady in her
nurse’s arms. “It is just nine o'clock,’’ the
tiny lady's mamma was saying, as she sent her
baby for an airing.
Jack Willett put his wife on her horse, looking
at the saddle-straps with the care of a man who
trusts his most precious possession io the string
he examines. Mies Alyng had stopped on the
lowest stops, making a dreaming picture framed
in by the arched entrance ; her dark hair was
brightened by the sunlight; the faint red of
her cheek was deepened by the fresh sea
breeze ; her face was bent over some roses
which adorned the front of her smoothly-fitting
waist.
“ I suppose it is folly to try to keep these flow
ers in place, but they are so beautiful it’s a pity
trot to wear them,” she commented, giving them
■a final pull under the pins that held them, and
■crossing the narrow walk to where the others
were.
“It would be a shame not to dothat much
when you sent their giver off for the day,” ob
gerved Willett, smilingly.
Miss Alyng tucked the small piece of fine lawn
and colored embroidery, called* a handkerchief,
between the buttons under the roses: the op
eration took quite a moment, then, as she gave
an approving glance at the effect, remarked that
the roses were a much pleasanter addition to
their ride than the giver would have been.
“ Ab, that is heartless! that does not sound
like you, Grape,” exclaimed Mrs. Willett.
The girl made a little, deprecating gesture.
“Whatis one to do? He did not ask me to
Accept them ; he just sent them to mo; he will
not know that 1 wear them, and they are so
lovely it’s a joy to have them near me despite
the giver. ’
She looked at her companions with an expres
sion of mischief and trouble blended: an ex
pression that brought out fully the beauty of
her face—the half-sad depths in the gray eyes,
and the curves about the red mouth. She was
surely fair to see.
So thought some one coming toward her from
the sea-wall; some one to whom the sight of
that girlish face had once been a daily delight,
but to whom it now came with a strangeness
almost painful.
Something—was it idle chance, or did hie eyes
draw hors ?—something made her turn, and but
of the morning fled the sunshine and the sweet
ness, the gay world became a sepulchre ; she
seemed to stand with only a clutch on her heart,
-and a ghost before her. It was a much mate
rialized ghost, with a well-knit figure, clad in
garments of more fresh elegance than is gener
ally believed to belong to grave clothes, and it
was coming toward her party with firm, elastic
tread. She turned quickly toward her friends.
“Is Mollie made of glass that it takes you
no long to mount her, Jack ? We are losing
time ; do let us start. Thanks—l’m all right,”
and with hardly a touch from Willett, she was
on her horse.
Willett swung himself into his saddle, but
even as he did so a low exclamation from him
proved her haste in vain ; a second more and
he was standing beside the charger exchanging
the heartiest of greetings.
Earth and sea rocked before the girl’s eyes in
the moment that followed, but by the time Wil
lett led the newcomer forward she had herself
under control, outwardly at least.
“ Mollie, you have often hoard the name of
Ned Allerton ; I’m glad to show you the pos
sessor of it. You never met my wife, Allerton 1
She was somebody else when I last’ saw von ;
but,” after a moment, in which Mr. Allerton
had expressed his pleasure at meeting the wile
of his old friend, “ but 1 think vou knew Miss
Alyng.”
The stranger bowed before the girl, who bad
made no sign of recognition. “I had that
honor, but Miss Alyng has so many friends it
would be strange if she never forgot tho least
fortunate of them.”
Grace smiled coolly.
“ Oh, no I Mr. Allerton, I have not forgotten
.you, but it sometimes takes a moment to place
■one’s acquaintances. How do you happen to be
in thia place ? 1 thought I heard somewhere
that .you were to spend the Winter on the
Nile.
, “ I did that last year.”
* She held her hands up in pretended horror.
What an age I’ve grown to that time flies so
fast!’
She looked very ancient, in truth, all bright
ness and glow, smiling gayly. Allerton remem
bered Iho last time he bad seen her; tear
•stained her face had been then ; the tones that
now fell so smoothly had that day been full of
agon.y. Ho thought ot the last words she had
spoken in her sorrow and indignation: “I will
forget you: do not think I shall let you spoil
any life I” It was beyond his belief that she
had difficulty in “ placing ” him, but she had
certainly not allowed care for him to affect her
<!eeply. No man in his senses could believe
drer calm courtesy anything short of indiffer
•enco.
As those thoughts danced through his brain
me waw answering Willett’s many questions,
fie had been m Augustine a month, but was off
by the morning train to meet friends at Tocoi
with whom he was bound for the Ocklawaha.
It was a great mistake he hadn’t known tho
others wore in town these two days, but surely
they might arrange a meeting later on I’eonle
were always meeting again in Florida, thov
knew. Fortunately he was unengaged till train
time; would Mrs. Willett allow him to inflict
himself on her party? and no, he did not wish
to spoil their ride, might he not come too ?
“Just nine o’clock.” “By the morning
train.” With Allerton’s voice came back words
before unheeded; an hour and a half he might
stay with them and catch that train; what an
eternity of endurance it seemed.
. It did not take .long to get another horse and
find Allerton’s leggings, and they were off, Miss
Alymg leading with tho cry that she would
reach Ban Marco first.
horses proved better than had been fear
*“> . ,® httle cavalcade drew rein after a
®P? r b oanter on the high ground bv the
old drawbridge. Grace had been as goo’d as
tor word about getting there first, and was a
trifle breathless as she halted with her face to
ward the brwnci water.
Her gaze swept over tho broad river, the low
island with its dense chapparall and it funereal
lighthouse, to where the white breakers roll up
and river and sea struggle to each other over
the treacherous sand-bar. For a moment her
spirits lightened. She drank in the exhilara
ting air eagerly. Vagrant breezes toyed with
the loose rings of hair that escaped from her
close riding-hat, one falling over her eyes was
pushed carelessly back as she threw an upward,
longing glance to the barbette.
“One can see so much better up there: oh,
for' P’qgasus to mount with me 1” she exclaim
ed in pretty extravagance. Her horse gave a
sleepy, sidewise look, as if in answer. “A most
particularly stupid Olympus you would carry
too.” She laughed.
“I’m surprised that you and Mollie don’t ride
straight over this magnificent draw-bridge, or
attempt it, Grace. I suppose, Allerton, that
those two infants would not know,, until they
fell through, that the holes were not so sus
taining as solid wood. Their hearts, and heads
as well, are lost to this old fort; they are deaf if
one happens to call it Fort Marion, instead of
its old Spanish name, San Mareo. I shall do
well if I get them away alive, and,” with a
martyr-like air, “ 1 firmly expect to get the fe
ver myself in my struggles- tokeep them out of
the musty old angles that are full of it. My
wife says I have lost my romance. Well—
“ Jack, dear,” broke in a demure voice,
“ don’t you think you can keep up appearances
for the tittle while Mr. Allerton is to be with
us? I assure you, Mr. Allerton, he has the
worst form ot the fever now. Poor fellow, he
does not know that he is raving ’ He is not
dangerous at present but I fear for him if wo
do not get him away from San Mareo; he seems
to owe the dear old place a positive grudge.”
On they rode—out past the old Spanish cem
etery, past the stray residences along the way;
back past the old city gates, sometimes with the
sweet salt wind blowing in their faces, some
times caught in a cloud of their own dust, dash
ing out of that to walk their horses past groves
where green loaves, yellow fruit and white
blossoms hung together; lingering to drink in
the perfumed air or admire rose gardens; has
tening past hotels, where now the long piazzas
were covered by bright figures in Summer ap
parel; drawing rein hastily as they went around
a sharp corner lest some startled pedestrian be
run down. On again, through tho narrow
streets, with their gay little shops and tho idle,
happy-looking people passing from one to an
other; past the long unused slave market; along
the road to where the whitish line of sea-wall
ends; past the United States barracks to the
soldiers’ cemetery beyond, where at last they
stopped under friendly overhanging trees.
All the way they bad chatted and laughed as
best they could 'with their riding ; but under
the gay s'urfaee was a darker current for one of
the group at least—for the girl whoso speech
had brought the quickest laugh to the others,
whose own laugh had seemed lightness itself,
while she jested so merrily, she had lived over
in memory two months of a Summer three
years dead’; two months, during, which she anjl
this man who reappeared so suddenly to-day
had said over love’s sweet lesson together, un
til—by her at least—it had never been forgot
ten. How it all came back to her! the long,
dreamy, Summer days, and the silver nights ;
the joy of the lore, the misery of the ending, the
trouble brought in by others. Ahl the wretch
edness in tho thought that hers had been the
jealousy ; his the cold demand that her faith
must need no explanations to uphold it. She
had thought the suffering over; had believed
the humiliation gone of loving better than she
had been loved ; had deemed the time come
when she could hope for forgetfulness ; and
now—now she knew it must all be lived over;
all except the belief that some time she might
forget.
“ Grace, are you plotting some more atroci
ties for our tired brains ? Don’t, I implore. I
think a good way of reducing you to the level
of ordinary folk will be to send you in to study
epitaphs.”
“That depends upon the epitaphs,” put in
Grace,” saucily. T ,
“Silence, frivolous child I” frowned Jack.
“Allerton, will you go with the ladies? I’ll
take care of the horses.”
Mr. Allerton dismounted, and helped £lrace
down. One lit the roses, loosened from her
dress, fell into the dust. He picked it up, but
instead of handing it to her, stood looking
at it.
“ Go, lovely rose,” she mocked,
“ By your leave, I will,” he responded, coolly.
“ It would never do to offer Miss Alyng a dusty
rose.” And, fastening it to his button-hole, ho
went to dismount Mrs. Willett.
“I think I will let you bo guide for Miss
Alyng, Mr. Allerton. I have been in so often,
and we have little time.”
Grace was about to exclaim that She did not
care to go in either, but fear that Allerton would
know her dread of being alone with him de
terred her, and she walked quickly past the
sentrv, whose monotonous step went on, though
his eyes seemed to find something of unusual
interest in the vision that went by.
Passing the memorial pyramids which rise
above the dead heroes, pausing here and there
in the silence to read an inscription, they came
to the opposite side of the enclosure, where
trees and monuments hid them from those who
waited.
Over the fence they approached loaned a
small boy, about to descend and get a ball that
had fallen inside. Stepping forward, Miss Alyng
picked up'the bright-colored plaything and
tossed it to the child, smiling as she did so.
Even in her misery she could smile at a child.
The youngster stood with wide, bright eyes,
wateliing her as she turned away.
“ If one were only allowed to pick these blos
soms,” she said to Allerton, looking up into the
flower-laden orange trees above their heads,
and speaking merely to break a silence which
was growing oppressive. The small boy dashed
away. Coming back, a moment later, he held
out to Grace hands full of tho waxen beauties
she had wished for.
“ Here,” ha said, shyly.
“ You brought these lor me ? How very nice.
What made you ?”
“So that you’d smile at me again,” the child
answered. What ho wanted came swiftly, daz
zlingly, but Allerton’s voice tightened the grasp
on her heart, and the smile faded.
“There is a compliment dainty enough to
have come from a courtier, and honest as . well
—but Miss Alyng is doubtless so well used to
such speeches that she hardly needs them.”
His words cut her line a sudden blow; she
failed to catch the faint bitterness they hold; ho
seemed the same as of old, his manners saying
so much more than his words; how natural for
a woman to think herself of special value to
him I She clenched the hand that held the blos
soms so tight that a stray thorn pierced her
glove.
“What is it?” asked Allerton.‘seeing her
start.
“ Nothing,’’ she responded,’as if her heart were
not breaking at his indifference, “only I have
just found out what it takes some people years
of wretchedness and misery to learn—that
thorns may lurk among orange blossoms,” and,
holding up the thorn, she smiled at him as if a
thought that connected his lite and her’s were
beyond imagining.
His face darkened, and he made no answer.
Tho girlish voice went on:
“Thank you, again, little boy, for giving me
these lovely flowers, and some other day I’ll
come and find yon, if you live about here. But
now, Mr. Allerton, do you know that if we stay
much longer in this dreamy place you will miss
your train and your friends at Tocio?”
He did not speak, nor did he seem in haste,
but he turned as she did, and walked slowly
beside her. She talked on rapidly, recklessly,
not caring what she said.
“I’m sure you will find the Acklamaba
charming. Perhaps you do not know that it is
tho correct thing to see a great many alligators
up there, but it is. W’e saw fifty-four, but lam
quite determined not to be outdone in the mat
ter of alligators; if I meet any one who saw
more I shall make a new count, and be con
vinced that I saw a hundred. That is the way
they do in politics, is it not ?”
Iler nonsense was evidently hardly heard;
her companion’s face showed him gravely pre
occupied, and his answer was at random. A
moment ot silence ensued, during which she
wondered if she could live through many more
like it. Then Allerton stopped before an old
stone, saying something about being interested
in epitaphs. She found that she had still the
power of speech. “ Yes,” she said, “is it not
droll what people will put on tombstones ? Did
you ever hear that touching and impartial in
scription put up by a double-bereaved wife in
memory of two departed lords:
•'Here lie two husbands,
A wife bereft,
Rickard on the right hand.
And Henry on the left i"
Allerton smiled despite himself, but made no
effort to keep up tho conversation. Her des
perate bravery ebbed and went out; her last
bold on life seemed to give way as silence again
fell between them. Through tho leaves filtered
the sunlight, checkering the green with light
and shade, but it neither brightened or cheered
for it fell over graves; the song of a bird floated
down from above, so sweet, but so sad, for the
bird sang over graves; the flowers she held
and those she wore sent their mingled fragrance
up to her, but were not dear dead things, al
ways covered with the sweetest blossoms. 0 The
world was made of graves, and her heart was
tho deepest of them all.
Down into the depths came a sound ■ she
could not have told, at first, if there were
words, but something called her up, and up to
a world that seemed suddenly turned to glory
by the words that at last she heard.
“I know now what bas been the matter with
these three years ; why the interest was gone
out of everything; why no other woman has
charmed me for a day. I had you in my heart,
higher and sweeter than any other could be. I
never was worthy of you; never shall be, except
that I love you so—better than in the old days,
Grace. Blind fool that I was to demand your
faith, your confidence, and. deny you mine ! I
will never let you go again if it takes my life
time to win you back. Tell me I have not
wholly lost you. Bo mercilul; speak to me, I
be".”
Speak to him ! She had no voice for speech
nor power to lift her white eyelids and let him
read the joy she felt. He only saw her down
cast face, paler than it was before, and his voice
grew husky as be spoke again :
“Am I too late ? Is there some one else ?” he
asked, whiter than horself.
A voice, not hers, rang through the stillness.
“ Allerton ! Allerton I” it called, “ you are
going to be left!”
“Coming,” was his brief answer.
His one word broke the spell. She lifted to
NEW YORK DISPATCH, JANUARY 11, 1885-
him sweet, startled eyes, full of tho fear of his
going. He ca> ght his breath.
“ Is it true ?” he whispered rapttirously.
Her face, drooping again, but no longer pale,
seemed to give him answer enough ; for a sec
ond his eyes closed to shut in the ecstatic vis
ion, then:"
“Ah.it is maddening to have to leave you
now,” lie exclaimed. “ Yes, I must go to Tocoi
to-day. I will go no further. Look at me again,
my darling, my darling ! that I may know what
it is I am coming back to."—Chicago Inter-
Ocean. j
HIS
BY H. L.
When, after a prolonged resistance on the
part of tho ratepayers, the school board at ;
length invaded the suburb of Abney, N. W., i
and erected schools superior in every respect ;
to those already existing in the parish, there
was no one whom the change affected more than
it did old lleuben Sparrow, the master of the ’
Free College tor Boys. His pupils had never
liked him much, and now they dropped off one ;
by one till the embittered and sorely-mortified
man was compelled to resign his post.
Fortunately he had saved enough to live on;
and so, having no need to go in search of fresh
employment, he was able to devote tho best part i
of his time to the studies in which he had for- i
merly delighted.
He was now a man of nearly seventy, with <
broad though rounded shoulders, and a-face
that would nowhere pass unnoticed. Deep 1
furrows scored his forehead and bracketed his i
firmly-closed mouth ; sparse white hair was
brushed unevenly about his head ; beneath i
heavy brows peered out the pedagogue’s eyes, i
alert, shrewd, suspicious. Ha was quick to i
find fault, impatient of ignorance, slow to trust,
hard to please, but—is there not a saving clause i
in every nature?—he was capable of strong,,
self-forgetting affection; and the wife, who for i
forty years had been his faithful helpmate* i
often said that she had never had an unkind
word from him.
His distress may be imagined when.one day
this cherished wife, who had fretted herself into ,
a low state of health over his recent humilia- i
tion, fell grievously ill. Reuben sent for the i
doctor, a young man in the first flush of his pro- ■
fessional gravity and dignity, who, after ex- j
amining the patient very carefully, seated him- ,
self to write a prescription iu ominous silence.
Reuben watched him at once anxiously and dis
trustfully. i
“ What dost think of her, young man ?” he ;
asked, at last. •
“She is in a very critical .state, and ought ]
never to be left. Is there no one to share the i
nursing with you ?’ ’
Reuben threw up his head sharply. “ There 1
isn’t a woman in the place but ’nd be proud to ]
bo called to tho bedside of my Mary, but I 1
won’t trust any of ’em. She and I, we've :
always done for one another, and I can’t hive a j
meddlesome neighbor in now,”
“ Have you no daughter ?” ,
“ None but my son’s wife, and she’s naught
but a tricked-out'fool. Used to be a milliner’s j
gal, and learnt to dress the outside of her head ,
instead o’the inside. Got affine long name like ,
a lady’s, but don't know who Julius Ca’sar was,
and calls tho top of a pudding the bottom be- ,
cause it’s turned out lowest—pooh 1”
A sort of grim smile flickered across Reuben’s
face as he made this last singular charge
against his daughter, but it only lasted a
moment.
“ The old woman’s bad, then?” he said, his
eyes fastened apprehensively on the doctor’s
face.
“I am afraid so,” said Mr. Walters gravely.
“I wouldn’t reluse help in the nursing it I
wore vou. You might regrot it when it was too
late.”
“ Let me alone, young man!” retorted
Reuben, fiercely. “ D’ye think I’m no better
than a silly woman ?' I've got a good head on
my shoulders, and my wife’s more to me than
she is to any one else.’ Tell me what ought to
be done, and I’ll do it."
“ Very well, Mr. Sparrow,” said the doctor,
coldly; “ but remember that you are human,
and if sleep overtakes you just when you are
most wanted, you will bo responsible for tho
consequences.”
Ho gave several minute directions, and left
the house, vexed at Reuben’s obstinacy. But
the next morning, when he called, the son’s
wife was already installed by the patient’s bed
side, and Reuben, with an air of immense
knowledge and superiority, was passing on to
her the instructions received by him tho pre
vious day.
“ Now, girl, lift her a bit. Lor! can’t, ye do
it without sticking a stack of hair into her eyes?
Stand aside—now see I”
He put his arms under the old woman,whose
breathing was quick and difficult, and cleverly
raised her into an easier position.
The doctor came forward; a little curious to
see the disparaged daughter-in-law. As far as
exterior went, she answered pretty accurately
to Reuben’s description of her, having a figure
obviously molded by tight lacing, and a face
shadowed by a quantity of black hair, brought
down to her eyes. Her clothes were unsuitably
dressy, and on the table lay a number of cheap
silver bangles, apparently taken off at Reuben's
direction. But she had a pleasant, intelligent
smile, and bore her father-in-law’s strictures
with a modesty and good temper which augur
ed well for her readiness to submit to instruc
tion and to pick up the little devices of nursing
upon which a patient’s comfort depends.
Old Mary Sparrow was much worse, and Reu
ben, who turned his penetrating eyes alternate
ly upon her face and tho doctor's, fait cheered
by neither.
“You look worn, Mr. Sparrow. Go and lie
down,” urged Mr. Walters.l
“ Mind your own work, young man. I’m not .
your patient. How is she ?”
Mr, Walters did all he could for the sick wo
man, and then, drawing Reuben out of the
room, broke to him as gently as ho could the
certainty that his wife could not live many
hours. Reuben would not believe it, and gave
vent to expressions of savage contempt for tho
whole race of doctors.
But next day poor old Mary died, and the
stricken husband shut himself up to be alone
with his grief. Even at the funeral he would
not exchange a word with the many kindly
mourners who gathered round the grave. -
The following morning, however, he sent foiv
his son and daughter-in-law, and made ar
rangements to live with them and their little
boy.
“ Gwendoline,” ho said, more gently than
usual, “you did your best lor her. You’re
worth more than I thought. Wo’d better all live
together.”
S“Oi course, father,” said his son, heartily;
“ wo’ll make you comfortable, and Gwen ’ll try
to take mother’s place.”
“Keep a sensible tongue in your head, boy,”
said lleuben, with slow scorn. “ Your wife’s a
well-meaning gal, maybe, but as ignorant as a
baby. Mother’s place, indeed I My Mary’s
place !”
Ho leaned his heavy head on his hands, and
would not speak again.
As Luke Sparrow walked away with his wife,
he asked her seriously whether she was ready
to bear with the old man’s difficult temper.
“Nobody couldn’t help puttin’ up with an old
man like that,” replied Gwen, whoso grammar
was hardlv as genteel as her name. “Nover
you fear, Luke; we’U get along all right.”
Bnt heroin Gwen was too sanguine. From
the time she and Reuben became the inmates of
tho same little house, her every action was
harshly criticised, if not severely blamed; her
management of the house unfavorably com
pared at overy turn with that of her mother-in
law; her ignorance made the source of daily
complaint; her occasionally flighty manner the
theme of never-ending lectures.
Nothing bnt admirable patience and good hu
mor, and a real humility that accepted his judg
ment as better than her own, could have
enabled the girl to persevere as she did in her
determination to please tho old man. In defer
ence to his wishes she’ simplified her style of
dress, put her thick hair tidily off her face, and
discarded all jowelery save her wedding ring
and a little brooch given her by old Mary. Sar
castic and unkind as was Reuben’s “tone in
speaking to her, she undoubtedly profited by
his fault-finding, and after a time she discov
ered that Luke was right in saying his father’s
bark was worse than his bite. More than once,
when some small domestic difficulty perplexed
her, Reuben’s watchful .old eyes perceived it,
and she found herself at the same time snarled
at as a fool and helped out of her quandary.
Again, the old schoolmaster took very kindly
to his grandson, and Gwen, wfeo was keenly
conscious of her own want of education, was
ready to put up with much churlishness to hor
self for the sake of getting the boy taught by
Reuben, whose learning inspired her with pro
found respect. Often when she dusted his
book shelves, where Horace, Virgil, Cicero,
Thomas a Kempis, Shakespeare, one or two
works on education, and a little old-fashioned
volume' of Bacon’s Essays and Locke's “ Con
duct of the Understanding,” leaned side by side
in friendly tolerance of one* another’s contents,
she would scan their titles and read a page hero
and there, wishing she had had more schooling,
and that Peter might grow up “ book-wise.” ’
One day Reuben caught her at it.
“Put the books back I” he exclaimed peremp
torily. “All the years we lived together, the
old woman never so much as opened a book of
mine, and Lore are you, a gal that can hardly
spell her own outlandish name, poking into
them, spoiling ’em, and wasting your time 1”
“I wasn’t hurtin’ 'em, father,” said Mary
earnestly; but unluckily she had laid bis favor
ite Shakespeare open, face downward on tho
table, and the old man broke out afresh.
“ What’s the use of trying to make anything
of you ? Surely, any fool ’ud know it hurts a
book to lay it so 1 Get along 1 I’ll put the shelf
right myself; never you touch it again.”
“Very well, father,” said Gwen quiatlv; “but
I was only thinkin’ o’ Peter, and wonderin’ if
p’r’aps some day you'd teach ’un what’s in the
books.”
“ Well, wall 1” said Reuben, somewhat molli
fied, “ he’s a good little ebay, and sharp enough
too. Ho puts mo in mind ot Luke when he was
a little ’un, but he’ll hardly come up to his
father. Luke’s gbt a first-class head, if only
he’d stick to steady work, and not take up so
with inventions that’ll never come to any good.
He's a fmo lad--he ought to have married a
woman o’ breeding.’’
Poor Gwon winced, for of all the shafts in
Reuben’s quiver ot abuse, this was the one that
wounded her most cruelly. The sting of the
words lay in their partial truth, for she knew
that her kind, clever young husband might have
made a better match. And yet she loved him
so dearly, and et-rove so har'd to Vo worthy of
him ! It vexed her, too, to bear Reuben speak
so slightingly ot Luke’s inventions, for, as a
matter of fact, the young engineer had sold the
patents of various small labor-saving contriv
ances for considerable sums. Only in one case
had he failed, and it wao hard that Reuben
should seem to remember that so much better
than the successes.. Gwen delighted in her hus
band’s work, and -rather than let him be dis
turbed by domestic worries, played out all her
woman’s tact in the endeavor to make it appear
to him that the fault-finding to which Reuben
sometimes subjected her, even in bis son’s pres
ence, was merely the froth on a calm sea of
good understan ding.
She little imagined 1 , however, that thia view
of the matter was Reuben’s own, till one day to
her astonishment a neighbor remarked:
“ Old Mr. Sparrow thinks a deal of you, Mrs.
Sparrow, doesn’t he? He drops in now and
again, and tells us what, a good manager you
are, and how comfortable you make him. 'He
says you are wonderful thoughtful for such a
yonng woman,”
Gwon could hardly answer for surprise, but
the discovery that Reuben praised her behind
her back encouraged her greatly, and she tried
harder than ever to improve, not only in her
management of the house, but in speech, style,
and manner.
“ You are becoming quite a lady, Gwen,” said
Luke one evening; whereat she flushed with
pleasure, and Reuben gave a grunt of dubious
significance, which Gwen choose to interpret as
an expression of assent.
“ Some day, father, I’ll speak quite correct—
quite correctly, I mean.”
“Ihopeso.’’ said Luko, so eagerly thatCwen
looked quickly up at him, and perceived the
strange excitement in his eyes.
“ I hope so,” he repeated, drawing a deep
breath, “ for I believe I am going to make my
fortune, and that would be a lift-up iu the world
for us all.”
Reuben’s face assumed its most skeptical ex
pression.
“ You ought to be shrewder than to believe in
fortune-making, boy. Nothing but steady,
straightforward work pays nowadays.”
“ And isn’t it straightforward work to plod
away the elements of invention for years ?” said
Luke, warmly; “to get to know every discov
ered application of science to mechanics, so as
to be familiar with one’s tools, as it were, and
then to effect original combinations? I don’t
want to boast, but my small inventions haven’t
failed, and I am justified in believing my big
one won t. I have invented an electric tramcar
which is bound to supersede all others.”
“ Ah, well, my lad, if the patent fetches you
the money it has coat you, I’ll congratulate
you.”
Luke was accustomed to his father’s incredu
lity, but to-night it seemed to affect him pain
fully. I
“ You must try to have faith in me, father,” |
he said, endeavoring to speak calmly, “ for I
have made up my mind not to sell the patent,
but to work it up rnysolf, to do which I must
throw up my present clerkship, and start an of
fice on my own account. It may involve living
on very little for a while, but it must pay iu the
end.”
Luke’s face was full of the exaltation which
proceeds from the sense of great achievement—
the look of the man who originates, whether
artist, poet or inventor. Gwen, with worship
ing eyes, knelt beside him, and drew his arm
round her shoulder.
“You will trust me, littfe woman, and put up
with being on short-commons for a bit said
Luke, smiling down at her.
Reuben's thin lips were pressed together as
he sat and grimly watched the pair. At last he
stood up, pushed his chair back, and addressed
them with deliberate, chilling contempt:
“Luke, you’re a fool ! Your wile's never
been anything else, so I needed say the same
of her. But for a man who has one grain of
sense to throw up a good place for tho sake of
pushing a rubbishy invention, that's what I call
the act of a fool, and I’m ashamed to have such
a fool for my son. If you think I’m going to
spend my little savings to keep you out of tho
work-house, while you’re waiting for a fortune
that’s to be made out of a tramcar, you’re a fool
for that, too. As soon as ever you can’t.pay up,
I wash my hands of yon, and quit the house. I
shan’t miss you; there’s nothing your silly wife
does for ms I can't do better for myself.” ’
Luke was in far too excited n utate to beast
this quietly, and answered with violence, which.
Gwen sought in vain to soothe. There was, a.
terrible scene, and at the end ol a few minutes
the fair edifice of home peace, which she had i
labored at so long and patiently, lay shattered
before her.
The hardest time of her married Isfo fol
lowed, for Luke, in a state of irritated deter
mination to succeed, was sorely tried by tho
dilatoriness and procrastination of everybody
whose approval an .i co-operation were neces
sary to the bringing out of his invention, and
Reuben was more cross-grained than ever. It
tell to Gwen’s share to cheer and inspirit her
husband, to bear the freshly-kindled fire of her
father-in-law’s, vituperation, and to make her
diminished allowance cover the most necessary
expenses.
At last the tramcar was given public- trial,
and from that day tbs tide slowly turned. No
body harried to take up tho invention, but still
the capital to form a company was gradually
subscribed, and Luke felt his way grow clear
and easy bo ors him. A steady demand sprang
up for the Sparrow tramcars, and the dividends
rapidly rose.
Luke was made much of now, and on all sides
manufacturers and speculators sent him orders
for specified inventions, offering him large
sums if he could meet their requirements.
Some of the requests were absurd, bnt many
presented problems possible of solution, and
the demand for his productions preceding the
supply, Luke’s work was freed from the anxi
eties of the man who invents first and finds his
market afterward—if he oan.
At home, it seemed at first as if his success
would widen rather than heal the breach be
tween his father and himself, for Reuben grew
more silent and moody as his son went up in
the world. During the days o anxious poverty,
while assailing Gwen with ceaseless reproaches,
he had exorcised much ingenuity in secretly
supplying the wants of the household; but now
that tlio privations ot the young qouplo were at
an end, lie chose to believe that they wished
him dead or gone, and when Gwen told him
one day that Luke intended to take a larger
house, the old man broke out bitterly. They
i wero getting too grand for him, he said. The
furniture which he and his old woman had
bought when they married, and which he had
brought with him to his son’s, wasn’t good
enough for a fine new house, and he’d better
betake himself somewhere else with it.
“Don’t say that father,” said Gwen; “wher
ever we go’, your rooms shall have pi<j
things in.”
“ Oh, of course! The old things are good
enough for the old man 1” retorted Reuben, un
reasonably. “ You’ll stow me away in the back
and get new friends to suit your new furniture.
No, no 1 I’ll get a roam somewhere and have a
woman in to look alter me. I’m used to
nogloot.”
“ But, father,” said Gwen, patiently passing
over a charge she had heard over and over
again, “ I want you more than ever now. You
see, Luke wants me to be fit to talk to the gen
tlemen who come to see him, and I thought
perhaps you’d teach me out of the books, so as
I may know something. Luke hasn’t tune, and
I don’t feel as I could get on without help. ' Be
side, I can t bear to think of your living away
from us new.”
“ I’on’ro talking nonsense,” said Reuben,
shortly and sharply. “I’ve not been so kind
to you that you need sot yourself against tho
parting.”
“ You are rars good to Peter, and when we
were in a bad way you stood by us, father.
That’s what I remember. I know well enough
your savings are a deal smaller for what you
did for us.”
Tho old man uttered an impatient “ Pooh
pooh i” and, rising from his chair, fidgeted
about the room. Then he sat down again and
silently watched Gwen’s needle as it flew in
and out of the work upon her knee.
“D’ye really mean you’d like to learn o’me ?”
he asked «t last, doubtfully, “ after all the hard
things I’ve said to you ?”
“I couldn’t have gone on doing for you so
long,” eaid Gwen, encouraged by the gentle
ness of his tone, “if I hadn’t known that yon
thought kinder -mere kindly o’ me than ever
you said. You didn’t mean it just now, when
you eaid that you were need to neglect.”
“No, lass,” said Reuben, taking her hand.
“I’d no call to mean such an untruth as that.
You’re a good gal; I’ll teach you what you like.”
A'ter this it was surprising how well Reuben
got on with ins danghter-ln-law. Herintell’gence
delighted him, and he was never tired of boast
ing ot the progress she macle in history, arith
metic, grammar and geography. Not but what
he olten spoke snappishly, but the old, constant
friction was at an end, and past resentment
quietly forgotten. .
“It seems to me Peter and Gwen are running
one another close,” said Luke, looking up from
his papers with a smile one evening.
“Blessyou, no 1” declaredlleuben. “Peter's
a sharp little lad, but he’s nowhere beside his
mother. She’s one in a thousand, I tell you—
one in a thousand !’’
OUR TELEPHONE GIRL.
AND STILL SHE SMILES.
(Fi-om the Through Mail.}
The telephone girl had just cut off a non
subscriber, and was laughing at his frantic ef
forts to have her restore the connection, when
No. 666 dropped with a sharp click and pro
longed clatter. The call was evidently a fir®
alarm, so she hustled around pretty lively, hel
loing, and vainly endeavoring to stop tho call
er’s persistent ringing.
“Hello!” she cried, but the ringing went
right on, as if she had made no reply.
“Hello! Heli,o! HELLO!”
The ringing ceased for an instant, and the
caller thrust his mouth up to the instrument
and shouted “ Fire I” and then began ringing
again like mad.
“ Hello 1” cried tho girl, in 'agony at tho de
lay. “ Hello, I say ! My gracious, why does
he not tell me where to send the department’
Hollo! Hello 1 Hello ! HELLO 1”
“Well.”
“ Well, where is the—”
“ Fire 1” yelled the man, ringing again with
all his might and main.
“Oh dear I What a fool he is. Why his
house, or whoso house it is, will burn down be
fore I can find cut where the firs is. Sav ’ Hel
lo ! Hello !”
. “Well, what do you want?"
“ Where is thq
“ Fire I” yelled the caller-agaia, and again
made the machine lairly clatter.
The poor girl was nearly crazy with oxeito
ment and anxiety, and was--frantically endeav
oring to attract attention again, when the ring
ing suddenly ceased.
“ Hello !” sha said, shasnit;
“Hollo I”
Where is that fire ? Fhrty hotsses could
burn down before I could tell the-department
whore to go,”
“ Well, what business o 4 your-s to if where
the fire occurs ?”
“ A good deal I” said the-girl; ringing up the
police headquarters and reporting the case of a
false alarm from 666, and then switnhing on the
chief, who replied :
“ Well, I’ll send down right away.”
“ The fire is in my stove/’ said-, tlio man who
had given the alarm. “Now-1 gwess wo are
about even on jokes.”
“ Oh, no,” the chief replied-;; “ but wo will bo
even when the Police Judge gets- through with
you.”
And the telephone girl smiios hlaadly because
she is still on top.
WITH
BY M. QUAD. ■
“—seven—eight—nine ! Do you hear that ?”
asked the old clock in the corner. “Hero it is
a full hour after your and yet you sit
there staring into the fire 1”
In front of the fire sat an old woman—gray
haired, wrinkled, feeble. The voice of the
clock did not disturb her; but as she watched:
the fitful flames one could have read her.
thoughts.
“ But it’s excusable onihis-night,” continued
the clock, in softer tones, “Heigho ! but it’s
the last night of the old; year t Three hours
more and we are done with 1884. You and, I
are going to watch the old year out together.
Let’s see ! How many years have I seen come
aud go? Forty—exactly forty with this one.
That’s a long, long rima,”
The woman rocked gently, to and fro, and, by
and by the clock suddenly called out:
“ What! Tears in your eyes 1 Como, now,
but that’s no way to cad the year. Wo were
thinking of the same thing, Yes, ho was a good
and loving husband, aed- I’ll say this for both
of you, that I never heard one unpleasant word
between you. It is twenty years since ho died.
I could look into hisdace as ho lay on his dying
bed, and if Heaven swer sent its light to lead a,
soul across the dark.,valley it was given to him.
I remember your tears and moans and sobs,
and you prayed that- death might came to you,
as well.”
The woman wipadher tears away, and there
was a feeling of, suffocation as she let memory.
bring up the events of other years.
“ eight—nine—fen.’” called the clock alter
awhile. “ How time does fly ! It se.ems scarcely
a month sincelwas striking tao last hourp.of
1883. Let mesas- J Some one wept with you at
that bedside. There was a eon ami a daughter.
Ah I now I rocaiS their faces—their gentle ways
—their loving words. Two years later there
was another death-bed—moro wails and, cobs,
and I saw tha pall-bearers as they carried the
daughter’s.body out of the house. It seemed
as it the last blow must crush you, aad.li well
remember of saying to myaelf that it wouldn’t
be long befora you were oUled to go.”
The woman held her faso, in.her itaads- and
sobbed,
“Ccmot Como!" chided the clock, “Death
is over basy, audit must.come to.aaoh and
everyone.. The past ie a past, and we must put
it behind us. How happens it that- you are
alone to night ? Whore is ,tho . son, of whom I
spoke ?”
Ths woman choked, back her cobs,, and her
lips moved as if sho-were speaking ths names
of hor. dead. ones. For. many minutes her
reverie was unbroken, and ,sba. heard not the
tick-tack I tick-tack ! of the steady old clock.
nine -ten— eleven!” suddenly called the
clock, “The san?. Ah! how. absent-minded
I have become ! Well do I.remember the day a
woman with pale face, and- frightened eyes
opened the doar and a letter, which
bore the insignia of death. You opened it with ,
trembling fingers, and nsxt. moment you were
like one dead. There.tSßßa.da.y9 and d'ays when,
you hovered, between life and death, and for
my part I gave up all hopes. Died in a foreign 1
land—buried among strangers over the sea.
It was a blow aimed at a, heart twice broken,”
The woman covered her face and moan-od in
anguish, and. the dock continued:
“Don’t grieve so; the dead are at rsd for
! evermore. Life’s, mistakes may need. to bo
washed away with tears, but the dqad have
reaped their reward. You are old and poor
and broken, but who can tell what E-P-w friend's
the New Year may raise up for yon.?- I. cannot
tell you to forget ths past, for a mother’s, heart
ever goes, out for her dead, but tha New Year
may have more sunshine. Corso, now, I am
about to strike the Old Year out and the New
Year in. Let ns greet the New with a smile of
welcome as I count—ten.—eiaven— twelve- -a.
happy New Year!”
Th®, woman did not move.
“Heigho!” called ths dock; “ wo hav* left
th®, old behind !”
Her hands had dropped beside her and her
head had fallen.
“Dead!” ticked ths clock, as the last faint
echoes of his bell died away. “ Verily, it is so!
The Old Year will lead her soul from earth to
eternity!”
What must have been Uio feelings of this de
voted when he received
HIS SWEETHEART'S REPLY.
My love and I walked from the play—
Serene and starry was the night;
I felt she could not say me “nay ”
Mid scenes so calm, so fair, so bright.
I plied my suit with eloquence—
Assured her of my fervent love;
She spoko not in her innocence;
My darling one, my duck, my dove ?
Sho leaned and sobbed upon my arm,
As if by some great fear oppressed.
I told her she need fear no harm.
As I her suffused cheek caressed,
At last she summoned strength to speak —
I thought her little heart would burst;
She said, imploringly and meek,
** I want two links of Weineruurst.”
Wo have here a not pleasant reminiscence Oi
CHRISTMAS PRESENTS.
It was cool 1 .- planned and deliberately executed
ia cold blood. They sat by the fire, and as he
perused his paper she was busy with thoughts of
Christmas. By and by he waked up and asked :
“ Did any parcels for me come up to-day ?"
“.No, dear," she replied, as her face grew white
as snow. “ Have you been buying anything ?"
“ No, nothing much. I happened in at Blank’s
this afternoon, and, as he was soiling out his slip
pers at cost, I bought me three pair. Guess I’ll be
fixed for the next ten years to come."
“ You—bought—slippers sho gasped, as sho
pressed her hand upon her heart.
“Yes, and Dash came to the door as I was going
past and asked me in to take a look at his stock ot
dressing gowns."
“And—and—"
“And I bought me a couple. Rather handy gar
ments, you know, these are something extra
nice."
“ Do you mean to Uli mo that you went and—"
“Why, dear s how you tremble," ho interrupted.
“Yes, I bought two of them, and when Dash hap
pened to mention that I ought to have a smokiag
cap, twelve new shirts, aud a smoking-set and cane,
I I told him to go ahead and send them up. I’ll
order a new silk hat, wristlets, gloves, sleeve-but
tons, and six neckties to-morrow, and then I guess
I’ll be provided for. Come and kiss your old
hubby."
. But she didn't. She rose and up gasped and rush
ed out of the room with tearful eyes and clenched
I teeth.
Tho pl timbers receive the particular atten
tion of the humorists. The latest attack on the
plumbers explains
HOW A MALADY OCCURRED.
Plumber’s wife (sitting by his bed, clad in an em
bossed velvet gown, and with $125,000 worth of
jewels scintillating on her ears and fingers)—“ Is he
dangerously ill, doctor?"
Doctor—'• No, indeed. He is the most comforta
bly off of all my patients."
“But what makes his right arm and hand shake
so?"
" That’s only scrivener’s palsy."
“Palsy?" she exclaimed, with a clasp of her jew
eled bands; “ what could have so prostrated my
dear Algernon?"
“Ho has been writing too much without rest,"
smiled the doctor. “Ho tells me he has been steady
at work day and night, for four months past, mak
ing out his annual bills."
In this skit from the Philadelphia Call there
is
BOTH TRUTH AND SARCASM.
Deacon De Blank—“ Yes, dear, I know the church
ought to have a new organ now that the opposition
church in the next square has one, but I shall not
subscribe anything toward it."
Mrs. De Blank—“ But all the other members are
subscribing liberally toward it, and wo must do
something."
“I know; but I can’t afford it, my dear. My in
come has totally stopped."
“ Good gracious I Why, what has happened ?'*
“The police have raided, cleaned out, and demol
ished No. CO Slum street."
“But what has that to do with us ?"
“ That was my property."
It is of a Chicago wife and husband that is
told this
STRANGE STORY OF AN EAR.
“Lend me your ear a minute," remarked Mrs.
Brown to hdfr husband the other evening.
" Will you give it back to me ?" he inquired, with
mock anxiety.
“Of course I will, you idiot I Do you suppose I
want to start a tannery
She got the ear.
Each section of our glorious country has its
own peculiar methods of celebrating holidays.
If this anecdote is true
THE WOMEN OF THE SOUTH ARE VERY PECU
LIAR.
“Georgia, defir," said she, “didn’t you say you
spent last Christinas in the South ?’’
“ Yes, Kitty, and I enjoyed it very much."
“I suppose you did some kisiing under the
mistletoe,' didn’t yon, Georgie, dear? You know
that is a favorite amusement in that section."
“I—I—no—I" —
“ What ? Didn’t you kiss her under the mistle
toe ?"
“ She—l—she told mo to but I—I" —
“Why didn’t you do it then
•• Why, I wasn’t going to kiss hor foot."
If this isn’t an accurate-description of stock
axchange transaot-WQ»'W&' haw never met one.
It shows
THE PRICE TO 1 EXPERIENCE.
A speculator camo home recently, where he bad
a> new wife, just from a-co&ntry town>, waiting to
Deceive him. He had been caught that day, and
was not happy.
“Oh, my love,” she -wailed, “ wha£ has gone
wrong with you?"
“Everything," he answered‘dejectedly.
"Nos not everything, darling, for I ana still true
sad; loviag."
•“Yes, you aro aU righVbut’ itfertbat infernal
stock exchange.”
“The stock exchange.’’
“ Yes/’
“What Js the stock exchange, love-?"
“ It’s- a place, dear, where any blamed fool can
exchange big stock of caoh for some other man s
stock of experience, without--being able to use tho
experience."
“ Why r dear, have you met-a fool to-day ?’’
“Oh, love; the other-man mot the fool —but
let’s talk of something eIEG*-youMl ha-ro to wait un
til Spring for your sealskin..”
Wo have seldom read ao--good<
AN EXCUSE FOR KISSTOCL
It wan a case of breach ef-x promise. The defend
ant wae*allowed to say a word in his own behalf.
“ Yea," he said, “ I kissed hor almost continually
every evening I called at her house,"
Lawyer for the defendant—“ Then you confess
it?"
Defendant—“ Yes, Ido confess-it- but I had to do.
it."
Lawyer—" You had to -do-it? What do you
mean.?"
Defendant—" That was way I could keep
her from singing."
The jury gave a verdic-S- fof-defendant without
leaving their seats.
Ws-oan see from this that there are
DULL TIMES-OUT WEST.
A.Hooton man got hold of a. westerner the- other
dav‘in-hopes of getting eomaconsolation out 3>f the
look of affairs toward Sundown, but the man
promptly replied :
“I toll you things !>&•*• ju-ot squatted cut our
way.’’
“Won’t wheat look upaAittia ?’’
“ Not a look.”
“Any new enterprises?'’
" Not so much as building a woodshed."
“ How’s matrimony ?"
“Deader’n Joseph’s old boots,” was tho confiden
tial answer. “ A year ago you could have married
anything or anybody and counted on 6 per cent,
dividends, but the general depression has* flattened
matrimony until a widavz worth $20,003 has got. to
hunt a man down with.a gun."
In this case it will be. acknowledged; that
A PHRENOLOGIST WAS NEEDED.
“None of these bexsels are labeled wiife the nature
of their contents," caid the wholesale liquor dealer
to.his clerk; “ this is-agreat blunder. We shall be
obliged to bore thera,and ,draw off a. little of the
liquor or wo shall not. be able to tail whether we
are selling whisky or runt."
“Suppose we send-for a phrenologist,” suggested
the clerk.
“A phrenologist/? What for ?”
" He may be able to tell us what £» in the, barrels
by examining thsir heads.
SCINTILLATIONS,
“ Women, in arms”—Well, where
should they
A market reporter says that his sweet
heart encouraged him, and hiT thought of marrying
her at once, but that a further advance was follow
ed by a decline.
Counsel— (i Then you think he struck
you with malice aforethcaght ?" Witness (indig.
nantly). “ You can’t mix me up like that. I’ve
told yoq.twice he hit me with a brick.”
Between book-levers: u Say, ohl fel
low, lend me this book." "Sorry, butt coa't do
it. Nobody over think&.X returning a baok he has
borrowed. Just look my library them*-all bor-
books !’*
A piece of sponge-cake rejule by a
Vassar girl has beon presented to president-elect
Cleveland. It is saifi£4hat Mr. Cleveland prizes it
highly, and will it as . a paper weight when be
g*es to the Whitq. House..
If you notice a,young contorting
himself into positions at trying to
reach the lower part of his lefi ahoalder-blade with
his right ham?:, you needn’t bo alarmed. He has.
got on a newv&iait of; flannel underwear, that’s all.
In spUe of all the incentive genius cf
this country, no .one has.&wr- succeeded in making
a aleeve-bixtton that will permit a young m&a to
hug his bast girl without tearing a hole in her dross
at the i>oint where her bark-bone saws iniv- his
arm.
“Let us go .to. Ms. Simpson’s wedding,
my de.ar,” said a asjv.ly.-nxarried wife tabor hus
band. “ Oh, no I Lst us stay at home ; it-will be a
dreadful, bore.” “But. my dear, you, must re-
Uiomber Mr. Sampson attended your, wedding.”
“So ho did " (gi’inily.) : “ I had forgotten that ” (re
vengefully). “I, shall be there."
“If living.” In all policies of insur
ance theses among a host of othw? questions, occsh’-
“Age of father, if living ?" " Age of mother, if liv
ing ?’’ A man in the country w.ho filled up an ap
plicatifcaa, made his father’s age, if living, one. hun
dred and twelve years, and his mother’s orte hun
dred and two, The agent amazed at this, and
fancied ho had secured an excellent customer; but,
feeing somewhat dubious, ho remarked that the
applicant came of a very long-lived family. "O,
you see, sir," replied he, "my parents died many
years ago, but ‘if living,’would ho aged aa there
put down." "Exacsly—l understand," said tho
agent.
A gentleman, having playfully sev
ered a lock of hair from the head of a young lady
to whom he was attached, although ha had made
no formal declaration, received, next day from her a
letter urgently requesting the restoration of the
stolon lock. To this he replied as follows;
By one only recompense can I be led
With this beautiful ringlet to part.
If I have to restore you th a lock of your head,
You must give mo tho key of your heart.
The lady immediately replied:
Who forces locks cannot require a key;
1 im at home to-day from 12 to 3.
STORYJFjt CAT.
A REMARKABLE CASE OF JEAL-
OUST,
Says a writer in tho London Daily Xi-ws . Not
long ago wo had a largo, strong toia cat, whom
almost no excitement or hunger would cause to
mew, and hardly any provocation would induce
to use his teeth and powerful claws within doors.
The youngest child m the house might pull him
about, lift him by the legs or tail, ar make a pil
low of hira. without disturbing his feline, peace
ful, or philosophical temper. If really hurt on
any occasion or over-teazed, he uttered a melan
choly little cry of pain—never of anger.
On the other hand, ho got sulky if people
laughed at him too much, when ho showed his
feelings by retiring under table or chair or by
staring stolidly ont of the window ; nor would
; any vocal coaxing or blandishments induce him
to move Irom his position until his better naturo
had overcome tho sense of wounded vanity.
Out of doors his charactor was different, aud in
tho evening or early morning his fine powerful
alto caterwauling was the delight of his many
female friends and tho envy ot Lis own sex,
His vandyked ears and many an honorable gash
and scar in the region of the eyes and nose
showed that he was not unacquainted with the
delights ot battle.
In an evil hour my son brought home from
school a jackdaw in a wicker cage. Now this
bird was what Artemus Ward would call “An
amoosin’ little cuss.” His cage rested in the
breakfast-room (also much used as a play-room
or study, according to circumstances), and he
was frequently allowed to have the run of it.
On such occasions his slyness, predatory hab
its, and general wickedness were a source of
great attraction to the younger members of the
family, and though his manners aud customs
did not perhaps give equal satisfaction to mo
and my wife, or even tho elder children, still,
for two or three weeks, either in blessings oi
cursings, this wretched bird monopolized a
great deal of attention. In the meantime Goli
ath (so called from his promise of size as a kit
ten, though Ins proportions never reached
tho gigantic) moped and sulked, forsook
the hearth-rug for the coal or beer cellar, ne
glected his meals and his ablutions, and shortly
became, in fact, a disreputable character that no
petting could reclaim.
The jackdaw, however, turned ont a failure ;
his wickedness ceased to please, and his manners
were ob.actionable. Finally, my son returned
him to the boy who had 'bestowed him. No
sooner was he gone than Goliath came forth
from dark and dusty corners, licked himself
clean iu no time, and onco more took his place
on the rug in the doll's cradle (a favorite place
for a siesta, where he might olten be seen with
his head on the pillow, and a doll on each side
of him), or the knee or lap that looked most in
viting.'
It must bo remembered that during the jack
daw s short popularity his rival had suffered
from no real neglect. His food was in abund
ance, the rug was at his disposal, but ho saw
that for the moment our hearts—as he imagined
—were alienated, and it nearly broke his own.
Will anyone who denies affection for the human
race as an attribute of cats, explain poor Goli
ath’s fits of sulks and jealousy in any other hy
pothesis than that he acted ’as ma’ny Chris
tians do under similar conditions of mockery
and desertion on the part of those they love and
respect ?”
fl t hase suffering from th©
Hl A* ra KVIBh 9 B finffec-t. <f yo-ithfnl error-,
»os fr?i Sfl S s lij! weakness, early de-
cay, lost inan’hood, etc., I will sand you particulars of a
simple and certain means of self cure, free of charge.
Send your O. FOWLEB, Moodus, Oonn.
MATH DAW
Used for over 25 years with great success by the
physicians of Paris, New York and London, and supe
rior to all others for the prompt cure of all cases,recent
or of long standing. Put up only in Glass Bottles
containing &l Capsules each. PRICE 75 CENTS,
MAKING THEM THE CHEAPEST CAPS V LES
IN THE MARKET.
A strengthens, enlarges, and ‘
HS J'» body. SI.W :
ga.l V. 1. JLVmVilv _^’ ervoU3 Debility Pills, SL. la-ffi ;
Hvigorating Till, sl. All post-paid. Address
£3 New England Medical Institute, ra
fc « * «• «• « 'k' & *r
*
* K *»- * * *
•“ I*
*. * * ■
’* * *
**
LYmA E. PIMKSIAM’S
* VEGETABLE COMPOUND *
* * *~ A POSITIVE CUffE * * * « *
For slid of those Painful mplalhts aad
* * W'Fak’ftose99-so common Csfcour best * *
*it * *3?JEHfAKE POPULATION. *** * *
It w»Li. avßsr enterelt the wcijsrr form or Fg-i
MALB AM, OVARIANMPROUBLBS, In 4
FLAM WATTON-AjNl> ULCERATION. IDLING AND
rLACEKBXTS, AKD THE CONSEQUENT SPINAL WeAK-I
NESS, IS PARTICULARLY ADAPTED TO TUB
Change op.-Lite. * * *»■*#*«>
* It WILL DISSOLVE and expel '’HtmOrs from the -
UTHRU SLN AN EARI.Y STAGE OF DHTffLOPM K NT. Til S ’
TEN DEMOY TO CANCEROUS IS CHECKE
VERY S4?»EDILY BY ITS USE. * * * * < *
* It RflMOVfiffc Faintness, Flathlsnoy, destroys; .
ALT. CRAVING FOR STIMULANTS, AND.BELIEVES WEAK-}
NESS OF THEtSTOMACH. It CURES BLOATING, HeAl>4
ache,. Nervous Prostration, General Debility j
Depression and Indigestion,
* Thao?reeling of Bearing D»wn, causing Paina
Weight? and Backache, is always permanently
CURED BY ITS USE. * * Ar * ' * * * *
*lt WALL - AT ALL TIMES ANTIeWDER AM. CIRCUM
STANCES ACT IN HARMONY WITH THE LATV3 THAT
GOVERN THE FEMALE BYST *****
* WIT 3 PURPOSE IS SOLFBY for the LEGITIMATE
lIKAMN&-OF DISEASE AND 7 UK RELIEF OF PAIN, AND
THA r .'?IT DOES ALL IT CL/viMS TO DO, THOUSANDS OF
LADIES GAN GLADLY' TESTIFY, “©ft * * * *
* * Kor the cure of-Kidney Complaints in
EITHER SEX THIS IS UNSURPASSED. * »
* Ii’SDIA E. PINKHAM’S VEGETABLE COMPOUND ft ■
prepared at Lynn, Ma-s. . Price sl. Six ) for $5.,
Solari; all druggists. mail, postagerpoid, in fpran
of Bilte or Lozenges on w-elpt of price &sabove. Mrs
Pinkham’s "Guido to Hr-rith’’ will lw mailed free to any’.
sending stamp. confidentvdly answered. ° -
* Wo family should be without LYDIA.E.
PILLS. They Constipation.BiliousnesspndL”'
of tholxivo’ c ig. cents per bex. * # ♦ 3
ToHit® r
Talbotton, Ga., Sepi. 12. .1834,—Yjr little son, now sev
on years old, broke-aut when a babo»®f three weeks with
what tho doctors called eczema, beginning,on,t;h^ : beadl
and gradually spwfading over bip. whole body. He
treated for live or more by . rjrious physicians with
out relief, and the little was, completely
broken down. About a year ag fs> I yvas inducci.fco use on
him Swift s Specific, and two hotties cured him.sound
and well, andiihece has been .20 £iga pf a return of th®
di3eaae - F
Poisoned ay a Nurses
Some years ago I inoculated waih poison by
nurse my with bipod t jiat, The little
child lingered along uny£ it was about two years old*
when its little life wa?..yielded up Vo tlce fearHil poison-.
For si&kmg years I hu\eo suffered untiihi misery I
covered with sores r.&d ulcers from, head to foot, and ia
my gaeat extremity to die. Nq language
feelings of woe during tb ;se.long six yea,yu t
ha&the best medico treatment. Several physicians sue
ceaa&lvely treated r*e, but all to purpose. met
ciwy and potash...seemed .to’ to the awful ftam®
which was me. three months ego I waa
advised to try . u 3, M re-
Swift’s Spe- vi?s in in y
cine We dibreast; but
so, and I Hffll» ■rrilFT lm 11 flaw > alas I wo
had spent 'imuch for treatment that ,we were
too poor to.-buy. Oh: Chs-agony ol that mynontl Health,,
and within reach, but toc.p/jor to grasp
I however. te»these who were &&le and willing
help m«j» and I have taken Swift’s and am upw?.
sotind and well oteep.more. Swift's, Spepiflc is tha-best
bloodiPuriSoc la tfc&world, and is greatest bl easing:
1 he age. Mrs. T. W, GreenvilV?,. Aja.
A jfftf-uggist 'd,». Years.
Auburn, Aj,a ; . Sept. 8, 188&--1 air, an old phaxmaetst,
and have hadjtodo largely with blood disMißps for over
twenty 11 I havej<z&alt in,all Wood puri
fiers, and not besitato.tr> say, that Swift’:., Specific is the
be.-t anti has given general salislaaction than any
other I &ave ever handled. Last 'ycry; a young student
came t«>my store eiwydatod. find wltl? sores. K’
recowaendfed 8. S. S, Ho topk'only fiLeoWdtlcs, and tbx*
sor*+s. l>is throat heaiftd up, and bis .x’Uq
CipAred oil. His was smooth and fresh as that.of a
child, and he gained ten nsimds. 1 scarcely know
•vni when he r^tei'nod ; alT>or ci several weeks,
tie claimed renewed ii\ i'?psh and spirit. A number
t>i ot.jer east\i iest* have come nnd(.*-i»y ob~
s“rv;i!ion,all with tn<- hpst results. Swift’s Specific
is an topic, nndns an antidote for iahaa
no Many ladt-2> Hro using it as a tciiic for gen
eral Jftj.jihty, a,nd vt'..he most satisfactory one ever
I.se i j have dealing in Swift’s Specific for five
v >;!.;•< or more, \ud r u n ?ai that lao nut place too
•ugu >:i uir its merits. G. W. DIXON.
!t■ -a'.;,.e on Blood ;n l Bkin Diseases mailed free.
Thh 'ki. \tVfifa,pa.
'-piSSs MILD POWER CUBES.*-
In use 30 years.—Special Proscriptions ot
an eminent Physician- Simple. Sale and sure,
XJSTOFPRIN T CXPAT4NO3. CURSS.
1| S'evoi‘% Congestion, Inflammations..
31 WcWEO’h Worm Fever, TVorm Colic... •
3? Ck’ vl ng Colle, or Teething of Infanta
Di&n'iiea of Children or Adults
5? IMsoatery, Griping, Bilious Colic.. . $5
6l Cholera Morbus, Vomiting
yjCoujybs, Cold, Bronchitis.
82 Wouralgla. Toothache, Faceache.... .585
K-leadaebo.itx.Sick Headache,Vertigo .4;»
108 IJygpepsla, Bilious Stomach.3s
11 ? Suppressed or Paluful Poriotls »‘<3s
OiIEOPATHIC
1® Whites, too Profuse Periods «25
1 3 Cs'cxap, Cough. Difficult Breathing....
Salt libount, Frysipelasj Eruptions v/3<j
15 Kiieujnai.i'nn, Rheumatic Pains
1G Soever and Ague, Chills, Malaria..... »s<>
17 Piles,Blinder Bleeding 39
fi.9 Catarrh, acute or chronic; Influenza ,50
30 WhoopingCougbA’iolent.Coughs .50
24 General IJebs lify, Phya IWeakness .s’o
547 TsCidney ITiseaso
•48 Nervous Mobilityi»<M
30 Urinary Weakness, Wetting Pod .50
32 Diseases of the Heart, Palpitation 1.00
g o j£ by D rU rrgjgt 3l or sent postpaid on
receipt of price.—Send for Dr. Humphreys*
Book on Disease, dJc. (144 pasji^): also,(Data-*
Sossaie, free, — Address, HCMPHitEVS’
‘MedlciEa-3 Coe 9 109 JPu-Uou. Wt., Newlforh#
BBANCH STORE, NO. 823 BROADWAY.
otraiiz,
i The Well-known Specialist,
and proprietor and consulting physician of tho New York
Botanic Medical Institute, 513 3d ave., Now York City, has
made the treatment of PRIVATE DISEASES o! MEN*
special study and practice for many years. Over 4,000
cases treated yearly. Recent cases of private diseaset
cured in a short time. Ulcers, Humors and Blotches on
Face or Body cured witheut giving mercury or other;
poisons. is the curse of the human race. Your
children will suffer from its effects. Avoid it as you would
any deadly drug. These diseases are boing cured at this
institute without mercury.
Dr. FRANZ is a graduate of a regular Medical College,
is well known over the United States and Canada by''
thousands of old and young men he has cured, and it is a
well-known fact that tor years he has confined hi ms -If to
the study and treatment of Sexual and Chronic Diseases,
thus giving him advantages that few possess. Dr.
FRANZ addresses himself particularly to those who have
already tried various physicians and remedies from whom
they have received no benefits, and who, in fapt, bavet
done them more harm than good. By a combination of
remedies of great curative power, Dr. FRANZ has so
arranged his treatment that it will afford not only im»
VniiMP mediate relief, but permanent cures.
‘ UJhU lYiLft Who are guttering from the elects of
youthful indiscretions showing some of tne following
symptoms: Nervous and Physical Debility,
Impotence (incapacity), JLcst Manhood,
Abuses oTthe System, Exhausted Vitality,
Confusion ol Ideas, Dull and Loss of Bril
liancy to the Eye, Aversion to Society, De
spondency, Pimples on the Face, hoss of
Energy, and Frequency of Urinating. You
may be in the first stage, but remember you arc fast ap
proaching the last. Many a bright and naturally gifted
young man. endowed with genius, has permitted his case
to run on until remorse racked his intellect, and finally
death claimed its victim. So lay as-de your pride, and
consult one who thoroughly understands your ailment,’
and who will know your cave, and find permanent relief
flor an ailment that has in ide day a drudgery and night,
hide >rs. Thousands upon thousands of men, in good
standing in the social world, are to d ty suffering troni !be
fruits of their doings, the seeds of which were sou 11 during
moments of thoughtlessness. Young man. turn an I gaze
upon thy com panic n, or seek tbe mirror for proofs to
substantiate this fact; so embrace-the opportunity and
enjoy life and happiness longer. It you can c’a m to be a
man, act your part man! ■. L'o not con=o!e yourself w.th
the thought, that Nature will help itself, tor in doing so
you not only fan the flame, but wreck Nature and. your
self. “ Little ills germinate fatal diseases.”
MIDDLE-AGED M-N 3S S !S AM
excesses or youthful follies, and who are troubled by too
frequent evacuations of tho bladder, often accompanied
by a slight smarting or burning sensation, and finding a
depo.-it or ropy sediment in the urine, and sometimes
small particles of albumen will appear, or the color will
first be of a tnin or milkish hue, and agin changing to a
dark and torpid appearance, causing nervous debility
and loss of vitality. Remember, this is tb.e second stage
ot Seminal Weakness. In ali such cases a perfect cure i»
guaranteed, and a radical rest oral io 1 01 the Genito
urinary Organs. All interviews and letters are sacredly
confidential, but ali letters must have $1 inclosed lor
advice, or they will not be answered. Advice and ex
amination at Institute $1 without medicine. No lu-.m
bug business here, nor advice and medicine lor a dollar.
Alt charges according to case or monthly. No physician
that gives you first-class treatment can afford to give vou
bis time and also medicine lor a dollar. Investigate your
self and find year mistake. Cheap medicines and cheap
dectors are no good. Medicines packed so as not to excite
curiosity, and sent by express, if full description of casa
is given, but one personal interview in all cases preferred..
Call early and avoid crowding. Office hours. 9A. M. to
4 I’. M.6t08 P. M. Sundays, 10 A. M. to 2P. M. Please
mention in what paper you saw this notice.
TAPE WORMS REMOVED
TN TWO HOURS. A PERMANENT CURE GUARAN
TEED IN EVERY CASE. Prof. A. W. ALLEN. No. C»’H
GRAND STREET, New York City. ALLEN’JI SWEET
WORM WAFERS, a positive cure tor STQMACU aud
worms, AUDruggisfcfe ‘
7

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