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I saw the lily pule mid perfect grow Amid lu silent sisters in tlm mead. Mothoiight within its clillly depth to read A iiiHil!iily severity, n though A cool young Hl lay slumbering in tlio snow Of ilN frull substance. In that clialleo white Whoso fiilry texture shone against tlio light An iiiiuwiikcucd pul.'O bent mint und blow, And I remembered, love, thy coy disdain, Whim thou my love for thou liudst first di vini'd; Thy proml, iihy tenderness too proud to feign That willful blindness, which Is yet not blind Then toward tlio niiii thy llly-lllo I turned Willi sudden splendor flushed It's chiillco Inn lied. . . Hoyum, III Scribntrur March. "Too Lata." I Kit und nip my dhurry wine, llosido tins blazing tiro; 'TIs very old, 'tin very line, A vintage to lusplru Such fancies an it loo might weuvo, And, weaving, strike his lyre, f Kip the wlu, hut would you think, To hear the glasses' rhythmic clink, I'm grumbling oven while I drink? It noine too lute, too lute, I miiKC, '1'IiIn sherry rare und mellow. Why cliil rclentlnHH fate refuse To smile, when yet n fellow Was young und strong und ItiHty-llinbcd, Heliire IiIh fuco grew yellow Willi Indigestion? All, tlio wins, The envied nefltar now is mine, Hut gone Ihe tusto that limile it final I know this velvet-covered chair Ih wondrous soft and cany, Hut what of comfort can I share drown corpulent und wheezy? ' All, could I thus have stretched my limbs When life wan fresh nnd breezy: Hut now well, now I've learned to doubt If any body's yet found out A chair that's easy for the gout I Woodcock ind turtle, quail on tonst, These things of feasting Havor; And yet the game, the llsh nnd roast Have loHt for me their flavor. I could have relished these things onco, Had fortune smiled with favor; Hut now, with dainties sprend In sight, With nil tlm pulate can delight, I've lost the sauce of appetite. Iliicuiisc 1 drive my couch and four The girls lira proud to meet me, They conin unhidden to mydoor, And with u kiss they greet me; They throw I heir arms Hhout my nock Yen, that's the wuy they treat me Hut passion's Haines are all unknown; The lips to kiss are mine, I own The nect ur of the kiss has flown I And so I sip my sherry wine, Heslde the blii.lng lire, Aud, though 'tis old and very lino, Sad thoughts it doth Inspire; Korsitllng heru in luxury's lap, of fortune's snillo I tiro; And I would give my broad estate l''or any boon bestowed by fate, Which did not come too late, too Intel LEARNING HIS VALUE. Mr. Marcus Wilkinson sat alone in his ollicc, with a dainty little perfumed note between his lingers, and a puzzled frown upon hi.s brow. Tlio noto, directed in a graceful feminino hand, was brief: I)i:ak (ii aiidian: I will be ut tlio ofllce at 10 In Ihe morning, to consult you upon a mailer of Importance. Mll-LIK. "A matter of importance," muttered Mr. Wilkinson, twisting tho noto nerv. ou.sly. " Can my fears be true? Has Cyril Oruisby proposed to my pearl? I am afraid ho has ! And what can I urge against the man, if Millie's own instincts havcplayeillierfal.se? Ten o'clock!" The last silvery stroke of the mantel cloek hud not died away when the door of the oilieo was opened by a clerk, jind Millie Huntley entered the room. Just a few wonts to describo the ward of whom Marcus Wilkinson always thought as a pearl, a lily, every thing pure and fair. She was of medium height, slender and graceful, with a thoughtful face of exquisite beauty. Very voting, only lit, Millie lientley had bonus early tho sorrows of life. Her father, having been wealthy, had failed in business, and committed suicidu. Her mot her, delicate and helpless, had fought poverty feebly for two years, and, sink ing under privation and toil, had con trary! a fatal disease. When all hope of life wa over, tho news cuniu that Millie's uncle, dying abroad, had left a j large fortune to his only sister. A will i w.u m:t.ii l.v the dvin.' uom.-in. Wvimr i her own too lately won independence to i Millii , and appointing their old friend, tt. ll-MI- !-.. l - . i:irni v iimusou, guaruiuii to uic neir- ; ess. Sorrowing, and womanly beyond i her) oars, Millie had turned from her own grief to a noble endeavor to solace ' some of the trials of those with wham I her own poverty hod made her familiar. A eouiu hail come at Mr. Wilkinson's niiiesl to make a home for his ward, aii'l sliervsuiiied many long interrupted tti'tic4. Hut a large portion of her time wa sM'iit in liie humble homes of those who lintl Uvn her mother's friends in tho dark iNv f widowhood, and her gentle oharilio sion extended far be yond th'.s small circle. She had boon an orpli.in to year on tho day when she came t - k Mr. Wilkinson, as already dosorilH-l, and tho orrow of her life li.vl I,f t -tiie of their bitter rting, leav ing on! v a ent'o s!n- In-hind. "Wei!. Millie," the old gentleman nai l, whs! I'finc to mo the pleasure of r.-ivz voi to-djy f" " U i ab.nU niiM-lf," Millie Mid, the oft.-'! rrM:in! Cashing ber checks. Dear mo! I didn't know you over took hucIi an insignilicant person into consideration ut all." "Now, Undo Marc, please don't tease." " She wunts something enormous," suitl tiio old gentleman, uddressitig the Lwalls. "Whenever I ara Uncle Marc, I know what lo expect next." ltut just then the kindly man detected signs of trouble in Millie's face ; and tho Jesting voico was turned at once to one of tender gravity. "What is it, my child?" " Cyril Ormsby came to see me last evening, and he will come here to-day; but I wanted to sco you first. . He wants me to bo his wife, Uncle Marc, and" she hesitated hero "you do not like him!" "Who told you that?" " No ono; but I see it for myself." " Well, you are right. I do not liko him. But my like or dislike has no con trol over you." "No control!" Millie's voice was piteous. "Please don't talk so, come to you as I would have gone to my fathor." "There, doar, I was wrong. Tell mo, then, as you would have told your father, do you love Mr. Ormsby P" " I think he is tho noblest man I ever know. If you could sco him with some of my poor people, how gentle and couteous he is, you would like him, too, He has given me so much sympathy in my work, Undo Marc, feeling, as I do, that tho possession of great wealth is but a stewardship." "And so won your love P" " My respect and admiration, undo, 1 can not vet realize that a man so no ble and so good can really desire my companionship and help in his life. But, since ho does, I am glad and proud to have won his confidence. " "Hem yes! Enthusiastic, but heart- whole! V was Mr. Wilkinson's mental comment. " Suppose you and I go for a walkP", he added, aloud. "AwalkP" Millio said, in a tone of surprise. Yes. I have a friend or two I should like to have you sco. When we come back I will tell you why I dislike Cyril Ormsby, if," ho added, mentally, "you have not already found out." It was not exactly such a walk as one would have mapped out for a gentle man's invitation to a young, beautiful girl; but Millio followed its course, leaning upon her guardian's arm, won dering a little, but never hesitating, past tho respectablo portion of the city, to a quarter known as the " Factory Kow," a place wnoro Mr. Wilkinson had never before allowed Ins ward to go. For there were apt to bo fevers and contagious discasos lurking there. It lay low, and was unhealthy, and the houses wcro of the meanest description. "For a noble philanthropist, partly owning these factories and this quar ter, Mr. Ormsby seems neglectful," said Mr. Wilkinson, dryly. " I have an interest in tlio factories, as you are aware, but do not own one of these wretched houses. They are all Cyril Ormsby's." " But," Millio said, eagerly, " these peoplo will not let him benefit them. They use his charily for drink; they abuse any privilege he gives them, tilt ho is discouraged in his efforts to do them any good." "Oh! step in here!" It was a poor place, scantily furnish ed, and cheerless. Upon a cot-bed a woman lay, in the last stages of con sumption. She looked up eagerly to Mr. Wilkinson. "I hope you are better," he said, kindly. "No; I ghall never bo better. If I may only die in peace; it is all I ask." " Mr. Onnsbv will not disturb you now!" " Jennie has gone to him Yesterday be sent word that if the rent was not J o" gu. i ve , Pl it regularly for live years, but he iL.tl'f tllint- if ll.lt All l,inniiij m.t.l.i " uwmi; u m..uu tliu ,:ust "th she has had to pay for fire aml wood. She's but fifteen, and 'K'r Vai' ' small. "What do you owe Cyril Ormsby?" 1 Thirty shillin A,m a, is no, ,.u loay, no wui , put you out into the street to die ?" I He says the work-house ,s the place for paupers. At this moment a slim, pale girl of 15 came in, crying bitterly. " Mr. Wilkinson was out," she began ; ami then seeing her visitor, she cried eagerly, " t h, Mr. Wilkinson, you will n"1 l't mother bo put out in tho street 111 pay yon every penny, sir, if only Ton m ill wait till she i Iwtier, and I can get mv full time to work!" "Have you nvu Mr. nnusby to-day, Jennie?" the old gvnlleman a-ked. "Yesir. He raid he had no time t hear any winning. The agent will be here at 12, and if the money is not paid he will put im out." "May IP" whispered Millie " Just as you please, my dear. Tor haps this dying woman or her child will drink up your charity "Hush, hush!" So tenderly, so delicately Millio gave . her charity, that there was only deepest Icratitudo awakened without tho galhn, j senso of obligation. She left more than 1 sufficient for some woeks, and promised to sond delicacies for the invalid. No word of herself passed her lips un til they were onoe more in tho narrow street. "Oh, Uncle Marc," she said, "can it be true that he is so hard, so false to mo?" " Wait," was tho brief reply. They went into tho wide court-yard in whose space stood tho four great fao tories, the joint property of Marcus n llkinson and Cyril Ormsby, long be fore divided by the entirely opposite management of those two into two dis tinct departments one entirely nnder the control of the outer, the other of the younger man " Wilkinson's absurd soft-hearted-ness," as Cyril montally characterized it, had made this division absolutely necessary, But it was not into his own kindly governod, well ordered departments that Marcus Wilkinson led his ward. He turned into a Email room, where a pale man was busily writing, and at the same time overlooking a long room, whore about 70 girls were at work be fore busily whirling machinery. " Good morning, Watkins," the old gentle man said. " I was in hopes that you were taking a holiday.;' " Thank you, sir!" was tho reply, in a dejected tone. "I can't well quit work, sir. There's the wife and six little ones, you see." " Have you told Mr. Ormsby tho doc tor says your life depends upon a few weeks of rest and pure air?" " Yes, sir. He's not keeping me ; but he says if I go he must fill my place and that means starvation for my fami ly. I-could never get another situation, as feeble as I am now." " How long have you been here, Mr Watkins P" . ; " Seventeen years, sir. I was with old Mr. Ormsby before you came, sir. " A faithful servant seventeen vears ! " said Mr. Wilkinson, in a low tone: " and a few weeks' rest may save his life." At this moment Millie shrank a little nearer her guardian. Through the window from which Mr. Watkins over looked the loom-room, she could see Cyril Ormsby, walking briskly about, his voice harsh and imperative, finding fault here and there, and keenly scrutin izing every item of the work. Not a face in the long room was brightened by tho presence of the master. Fingers worked more rapidly, eyes were fasten ed persistently upon the looms, atid eyery one seemed aware of a stern task master's gaze. But Mr. Wilkinson obeyed the mute petition expressed in the looks of his ward, and led Millie out into tho wide passage again, to another work-room. It were too tedious a task to follow every step of these two as they passed from room to room, everywhere meet ing some assurance of Mr. Wilkinson's own hold upon the hearts of the "hands," and their terror of Cyril Ormsby's harshness. Out again amongst the squalid homes, where her guardian had no control, but bestowed his kindly charity without os tentation; and here, more eloquently than ever, Millio heard how cruel a mockery were all the schemes of charity and philanthropy that had been poured into her ears. It needed no spoken words from her guardian to tell her that the noble words uttered to win her were i lint, I.linst nf livtinorisv- wliioli Innwlmur it , j . t ni,.i it ,... .j,h i..r Ono and another, turning to Mr. Wil- kinson t(J ft rie,uli naware o the torture o their words t0 ,he kindl j . . . - - J beside him, told of cmel exactions of work, in sickness or trouble, of closest calculation of time, of small wages and heavy rents. "If we won't live here and pay, we j get no work in the factories!" one said, whim w, he diJ not geek ft more er ,, t iMng to pay of mj ,.i1;i1i' - fllnpr.i ., f i,u wages for three days. I stayed by her to see her die, and to bury her." I'm uneasy about the rent," another said, " for I lost a week by a fall on the ice, and it's hard making it up again." Not one word of kindly sympathy, of help, in trouble or rickness. The "hands" under Cyril Ormsby were simply human machines to do so much work, ni.k or well, or pay the price of an hour or day of idleness no matter how necessary. There wo no word spoken as Mr. Wilkinson and Millie walked to the office again. Once there, the old gen- tleman spoke, very gravely. "As your guardian, Millie, I can speak to you no word against Cyril Ormsby. He is a rich man, of good social position, of ir reproachable moral reputation, and a man whoso standing in business circles is of the highest. A man who is a good match in every worldly sense. So much for your guardian. As your friend, my pearl, who loves you as your own dead fathor might have loved you, who knows every noble impulse of your pure soul as that friend, I tell you I would rather see you lying beside your mother than the broken-heartod wife of suoh a man as Cyril Ormsby." " I came to you as a friend, as almost a father," said Millio, "and I thank you for keeping me from life-long mise ry. To know my husimna sucn a mnn as I now know Cyril Ormsby t bo, would, as you say, break my heart." "I would not tell you," said her guardian, " for you knew I disliked him, and might have thought that dislike prejudiced mo. But, Millio, tell mo you will not let this day's work shadow your life. You did not love Cyril, Millie P" " No. I reverenced what I believed a noble, gonerous nature. That rever ence a mockery, I shall never break my heart for a man I thoroughly despise, Uncle Marc." And so it happened that Cyril Orm by, coming to claim the fortune ho be lieved to be within his grasp, met only Mr. Wilkinson, with Millie's polite but distinct refusal to resign herself or her fortune to his keeping. But he never knew how it was that Millie learned the true valuo of his hollow words of char ity and philanthropy. Two New England Centenarians. Two New England women have, just celebrated the hundredth anniversary of their birth Mrs. Elizabeth T. Wes ton of Peterboro, N. H., and Mrs. Luoy Nichols of Waterbury, Ct. Mrs. Wes- 'ton was 100 on Friday, and tho occasion was celebrated at the residence of her youngest daughter, Mrs. Martha Saw yer of Greenfidd, N. H.,' where she is temporarily stopping. ' Mrs. Weston was born' in Peterboroj whore she has spent her whole lite, marnea at is a poor man who combined the shoemak er's trade with farming, and is the moth er of 12 children, live sons and seven daughters, of whom live are now living, two sons and three daughters, three of whom were present. The most remark able feature in the reunion was the fact that representatives of five generations were gathered together, each and alt the eldest child and descending in di rect succession, viz. : Mrs. Weston aged 100 ; Deacon Samuel Weston, 82 ; Mrs. James Ferren, 55 ; Mrs. Hubert Ollis, 27, and Harry Frank Ollis, 3. Mrs. Weston shared in the exercises by recit ing a hymn she learned when a little girl. She bears her years remarkably, being able to knit and perform many household duties, is able to converse readily, and takes great pleasure in hearing the songs and music of other days. Her health is good, and bids fair to attain another half score of years at least. Much less happy is the old ago of Mrs. Nichols, who reached her centennial yesterday. She has always been of a fretful and fault-find ing disposition, which has naturally grown upon her, and in her senile jeal ousy imagines that her relatives want to throw her on the town. She says that her life has been filled up with dis appointments and crosses, but she has been living under God's " chair" and hopes that He will receive her when the time comes for her to go. She keeps up a constant moaning and imagines that she hears music. One of her vaga ries is that "Hell trembles; bedlam has broken loose; heaven rejoices and tbo angels sing with cheerful voices." Utr memory is comparatively clear, and, when questioned in regard to events of her girlhood, she answers with astonishing readiness. She keeps her bed a good share of the time, but can pass from one room to another with the aid of a cane. Her form is considera bly bent and her face is a good deal shrunken and shriveled, but her hand retains more strength than one would suppose, and when she shakes hands there is a perceptiblo pressure in the wan fingers. She was born at Hamden. Ct., married at 21, has had nine chil dren, and lives with the only surviving son, Milo Nichols of Waterbury, her only living daughter being in Ohio. She went out to Ohio Go years ago, but has never ridden on the cars. Springfield Repiiblirn. Crullers. 2 cups of sugar, 4 of a pound of butter, 4 eggs, scant cup of milk, i teaspoonful of saleratus, a little salt and nutmeg, flour enough to make stiff; roll very thin, cut in squares of a finger in width, the square cut nearly to the edges inside.in strips of half an inch. A great deal depends on the cutting. Whom did the pastry cook marry , His sweet tart, of course. ! The President's Veto of the Silver Bill, To the Iluute of ReprtuntaUvet i After a very careful consideration of Hnnu. bill So. l.Oltt, entitled "Au act toiiutliorlVetS coinuKO of the standard Hllver Uollur ,,,',,1 restore its lt'Kul-tcndor character" i , J2 compelled to return it to tbo House of Hen sentutlves, in which It oriffluntcd, with objections to its passiiKO. Holding tlioonin ion which I expressod In my aniiual lnessnil that neither the interests of tho tioverniS nor of the people of the United States womih be promoted by tllspiiriiKiiitf silver as on. IS tliu two precious inemls which furnish thi utilmWQ of tho world, and that leiriHlatln which looks to maintaining the volumnn intrinsic money to im full a luoasnS. ot both motuls us their relative com nierclal values will permit would h neither unjust nor Inexpedient, it 1ms De my earliest doslre to concur with Conirre. In the adoption of such measures to InereaM the silver coIiiuku of tho country us weulii not Impair the obligations of contruets cltlim. public or private, nor injuriously uffeet th public credit. It is only upon tlio couvlctinn that this bill does not meet these essenthJ requirements that I feel it mvUuty to with hold from it my approval. My present offl clal duty us to that bill permits onlv an at tendon to the specific objections to Its pos age, which seom to me ho important as to Justify me in asking from tho wisdom and dutv of Ooiwess that further consideration of the bill for which the Constitution has in such fuses pi A'tded. M The bill provides for the coinuKO of silver dollars ol the weight of 4li)f grains each of standard silver, to bo a legal tender to their nominal value, for all debts and dues, pubUo and private, except where otherwise ex. Iuessly stipulated in contracts. It is well mown that the market value of that number of grains of standard silver during the past year has been from IK) to 02 conts.ns compared with the standard uold dollar. Thug tho sil ver dollar authorized by this bill is worth from 8 to 10 per cent, loss than it purports to be worth, and is made a legal tender for debt contracted when tho law did not reuoirni.. such coin as lawful money. The right to par duties in silver, or in ceitlllcntcs of nilvr de posits, will, when they are issued in sufficient amount to circulate.putan cud to the receipt of the revenue In gold, and thus compel the payment of sliver for both the principal and interest of the public debt; $ 1,U3,4!)3 40 of the bonded debt now outstanding was is sued previous to February, 1875, when tlie silver dollar was unknown in tho circulation of tho country, nnd was only a convenient form of silver bullion for exportation: JS83.. 440,350 of tlio bonded debt has been issued since February, 18711, when gold alone was tho coin Tor which the bonds wero sold, and gold alone was the coin In which both parties to the contract understood thut the bonds wouH be paid. These bonds entered into the mar kets of tho world. They wore paid for in gold, when silver had greutly dcpreciutod.andwhen no one would have bought them if it liaS been understood they would be paid in silver. The sum of $'Jii,00fl,O 0 of those bonds has been sold during my Administration for gold coin, and the United States received the ben efit of thoBO sales by a reduction of the rates of Interest to 4 percent. During the progress of these sales a doubt was suirirosted us tn coin In which payment of these bonds would be made, xnu puoiio announcement wat thereon authorized thut it was not to be an ticipated that any further legislation of Coa- . ress, or any action oi any uepartnient of the rovernnicnt would sanction or tolerate tha redemption of tho prlneipul of these bonds or tho payment of interest thereon, iu coin of less value than coin authorized by law at tho time of tho Issue of bonds, being the coin exacted by the Government in exchange for cno same, in viow oi inese iucts, ic win justly do re garded as a grave breach of the public faith to undertake to pay these bonds, principal or interest, in silver coin, worth in the market less than the coin received for tTiem. It is said the silver dollar, made a legal-tender by this bill, will, under its operations, be equiva lent in valuo to tho gold dollar. Many sup porters of the bill believe this, and would not justify an attempt to pay the debts, cither public or private, in a coin of inferior vulue to the inonev of tho world. Tlio capltul detect of the bill is that It con tains no provisions protecting from Its ope rations pre-existing debts, In caso tho colnuge which it creates shall continue to be of less valuo than that which was the legal-tender when they wore contracted. If it is now proposedj lor the purpose of taking ad vantage of tho depreciation of sliver in the payment of debts, to coin and make a legal tender a silver dollar of less commercial value than any dollar, whether of gold or paper, which is now iawful money In this country, such a measure, it will be hardly questioned, will, in the judgment of man kind, bo an act of bad faith. As to all debts heretofore contracted the silver dollar should bo made legal tender only at its market val ue. The standard of value should not be changed without the consent of both parties to tlio contract. The National promises should be kept with unflinching fidelity. There is no power to compel a nation to pay its Just debts. Its credit depends on its honor the nation owes what It has led or allowed its creditors to expect. I can not approve a bill which, in my judgment, authorizes the violation of sacred obligations. The obliga tion of the public faith transcends all ques tions of prolit or public advantages. Its un questionable maintenance is a dictate, as well of the highest experience as of the most necessary duty, and should ever be careful ly guarded by the Executive, by Congress, by the peoplo. It is my Arm conviction that If tho country Is to be benefited by sliver coinage It can be only done by the issue of silver dollars of full value, which will do fraud no man; and a currency worth less than It purports to be, will, in the end, de fraud not only tho creditors, but all who art engaged in legitimate business, and none more assuredly than those who arc depend ent on their dully labor ior their daily bread. daily brc li. Have iMgnoai KUTUEitFoitn Sxecutive Mansion, February 28, 1878. Heating: a City by Steaiv. The experiment of heating the city of Lockport, N. Y., by steam has proved highly successful. Three miles of pipe properly covered with nonconducting material laid under ground through some of the principal streets radiates from a central boiler house, and fifty different dwellings and other edifices, including one large public school' build ing, have been theroughty warmed all winter. Dwellings more than a mile distant from the steam generator are heated as readily as those nest door. Steam meters are provided, so that each consumer need pay only for what he consumes. It is claimed that the system can be so developed as to furnish steam at fifty pounds pressure transmitted through twenty miles of pipe, thus sup plying power of engines and manufac tories, and steam for cooking and laundry purposes, for extinguishing conflagations, for clearing streets of ice or snow, or protecting hydrants from frost. The rates actually charged to the consumer here do not exceed former cost of his coal and wood. Axrox Miklaxcio died recently at Trieste, Austria, at the comfortable age of 114 years. He was born April 10i 1764, five years before the birth of Na poleon L He was probably the oldest man in Europe,aad nearly the whole city turned oat at his funeral.