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i; Love's Strife. i. f wonder whether I Icivs hor; I wonder whether I liiitol Now the will coo like a milk-whit dove, All love; Nnw aim atanila Ilka ft onsen apart, Urownod with beauty; but, haashe a heart? Oh, could I only discover Whether I lova or hate, . Then ihouM I know my fnto. Ml'' 11 . ', , .(,,,, H. . . I wondor 1 lor a minute . , . Hhotblnkiof mo wheaaway; 1 II she deouu ma a trivial toy,, . . Mere boy ; Yea, I oun faaoy ; yen, I oaa see Koay rod llp that lannh at mo. Oh, love'a atrifn I I'll boffin It J , TlirowhiK all fear away, ' , i . I'lJ know my Into tuin uiiy. ,-,-r ri - , . . -I!.! ' 1 ..!.-- The Weather In Verse. Tho undoraltfiied desires, In a modest sort ol way, ' ' I V ' i To make the observatftm, which properly he may, ( KM f I ; !'' To wit: That writing vorscson the sovoral so lar anasona la moat uncortain business, and for these con elusive reasons: In tho middle of tho autumn the subiicrlber did compoau . t - ' ? ' A sonnet In Novotnbar.khowliiRbowHiaaplrit grows Unhappy and despondantattho season of tho year When the skies are dull and loadon, and till days arc chU and drear. ; : JJi, , Torbapg yon may cull to mind, that, when No vember came,' ' ' No leaden skies nor chilly days accompanied the same: , .,,...( " Hut the weather waa as balmy as In Florida you'd And ','? ',''' i And Hint sonilat on' November'' was roapeot fully declined. With Inudublo ambition to prepafo A worthy rhyme, . , , The writer wroto a Christmas song ihrco weeks nhcad of tlmo ; ' ' And there wua frequent reference to the sharp and piercing air, . , And likewise to the cold white snow that cov crod cuith so fuir. I scarcely need remind you that. the Christ mas did not brina; 1 Tho piercing air and cold white snow of which I chosoto hIjik; . 'Twiih nil ethereal mildness while for Icicles I yeurned, .. . And of course my frigid verses woro with oordiiil warmth returned. "' This vory spring I act to work 'twos on an April day And warm as June 1 set to work and wrote mi ode on May ; "r, ,i . Tho Inspiration may havo come In part from what lowed. , Hut while I siirigofgentlb spi-fng.'why tlion It up and snowed I And once, when dew Inspired me a pustoral to spin, It happened, whon the poem was done, a dreadful drouth sot In; . There was no moisture in the earth, which dryer and dryer grow, And the pleee on dew came back to mo with six cents postage duel And for thoso conclusive rensons it is obvl oasly plain ' That verses on the wonthcr are procurious and vuln ; And the undersigned would only add, bo far as he can See, ..- The trouble Is not the motor, but the meteor ologyl Vandyke llrtncn. STRANDED LIVES. Ono wilti bliiNtoring night not many yearn ago a stago-coach made a short detour through ono of tho mountainous regions .of Pennsylvania, and stopped at tho house of f,he preacher. It was an old brown hotiso at the foot of a sterile rock, seemingly an reuioto from civiliza tion as tho heart of an Arabiau desert. Tim Kov. Paul Ilumo had already spent here, so far as vitality went, the best years of his life. No had been of late glad to find the old rebellious longings, tho fierce ambition, even the frotting dis content and latent hope Mr the future, becoming more dim and dull, and he be gan to believe, as the years went by, he would bo able to live out thoso allotted to him honorably at least, and iua meas ure resignedly. Ho had given np the old foolish fondness for pulling fire and fervor in a long Sunday discourse. Ho was quite content that some of his con gregation should sleep quietly through the sermon, ami others ruminate over whatever fleshly aggravation or joy that uas uppermost in their minds. Proba bly his solo spiritual companion, even in the degree suited to her capacity, was his serving-woman Hagar black, straight-featured, stoical aud reticent. but givon to bursts of religious euthusi asm that in a measure relieved the dull monotony of the life they lived there ' alono together. : J .... . . Hagar w'hi lo nave known her mas- ter better than to believe he would re- ; gI,,,Iy I' below, tho scant tails of more grateful than I can say; but I fuse succor U any helpless fellow-cron- , threadbare coat flapping in the chill j must remain here. Believe me, it is bet tur, ami it wa foolish for her to short- 'r ' March, but his soul was warm ter I should remain." en the chain that barred the door that ! wiln memory of the last hours he; Airs. Delplaine had somewhat forc night in March when the driver of the ! naJ "lnt iu that room above. J seen this refusal. In her exalted esti- roach bepcd that they would take tem- i And Mrs. IV lplaine, poor Mrs. Del- ' mate of hi character she could scarcely Hirarycare of a sick passenger. She . plaine, having nothing else to think of , hope that her hero would step aside had been gating worse and worc, the ' in this queer, picturesque region, being from the path he had marked out for driver said, for the last ten miles, and, ' "seem there was no hotel. nor hospital, ' or noUiin' handy," he bad made bold ; to fetch Iht to th parson's house. But ' Hagar th'Mik the crimson turban on her J fine I'TpiUa hcJ, and declared it was not tho parson' business to risk his life with pestilential fevers. ' Even as ibo spoke, however, the par son had unloosed the chain, and gone out in bis scant gown and close cap to the ooauh, and lifted the poor woman out In his strong arms. Hager fol lowed hiro and bis burden up the stairs, and as the light from her candlo fell upon tangled curls and braids, bits of ribbon, and a long strip of embroidered lace that hung from the head of the sick woman, a gold chain about her neck, and other personal gewgaws that ap pealed to the contempt of Hagar, she muttered to herself that her master had had quite enough of those miserable flummeries for the restrof his natural life. '- The lady's trunks had been bumped in after her, and presently thoy had to bo pried open, for the lady's lips and eyes were closed, and sho could not tell Hagar where the key lay to these fine treasures. But Hagar went to , work with a will, and before the preacher had saddled his gray cob and started off on his fivo-mile journey across the moun tain for a doctor, Hagar had put aside tho ribbons and bits of traveling adorn ment for a t long white muslin robe, which struck the preacher's heart with a Chill somehow, and made him spee'd the pony on bis way. The doctor had some broken bones to set, and told Hume, frankly,' that so far as fevers and disorders of that kind went, i hat black woman of his. was worth a dozen ordinary practitioners, and that he had long counted upon her in ex tremities of thai? sort; and trotting over to Mr. Hume's the next morning, on his way from the setting of broken bones, the doctor called out to the parson to know if he was not right about the capa bility of Hagar. The sick lady's wrists and ankles were bandaged up with cool; ing herbs, and the strength of some healing decoction of Hagar's reached the surgeon's nostrils. The pupils of tho eyes ' wore dilated a little, and a crimson Hush burned in the cheeks of the unfortunate traveler; but the doctor declared that. Hagar was doing well, and, with good care, in a week or so the journey could be pursued, .Then, with a curious and involuntary air of admiration, the' doctor looked again, at the patient, and went upon his way;., it was not often, in a region like this, one could look at a pretty woman, sick or well, and the good surgeon could scarce' ly bo blamed for that .lingering glance of his upon poor Mrs. Dclplaine. As yet the parson had beon alone concern ed for her safety ; for many davs it did not occur to him that the condition of his guest appealed to any attribute of his nature save pity and reverence. Hagar, however, strongly disapproved of feminine charms, especially when the owner endeavored to add to them by frivolity of dress or demeanor. ' 'The poor lady, who felt that she owed, per haps, her very life to these good peo ple's care are skill,' opened her heart to Hagar, and told her all about her long journey from the Pacific coast, where sho hud lost her husband many vears since, and had longed to come homo to the East, but dreaded, as well she might, the weary waste of miles between. Hagar knitted stolidly on, and listened apparently sho listened, but not with that active, tender, .absorbed interest that tho minister gave to the story of the traveler. Mrs. Dclplaine was too ill to be left long alone, and Hagar had her house hold duties to attend to, so that the minister was often compelled to bring his book, and make the cick-room his study. This chamber, which had been somewhat bare and desolate, suddenly became glowing and warm, and made a sharp contrast with tho room on tho lower floor, lined with moth-eaten vol umes, and choking with accumulating dust. Mrs. Delplaine had begged that a few sticks might be lighted on the hearth, and had pleaded that a quantity of light wraps and shawls alumld be taken from hrr trunks to soften the glare at the windows, to add to the scanty covering of her bed, to throw over the grim leathern back of her chair, and as Mrs. Pelplaiuo's favorite color seemed to be of the faint warm tint of the rose, the whole atmosphere t .i . . i. . i . , i ru"m ,ms 8t"t ,,onnS. anu hn"P' 8ul f the Kuvureud 1!lul - 'Sh,,l therein without knowiugwhy. II - it- : i.: - WM a's jui me "iff i somewhat appalled by the big sterile hills and the gray gloomy ky, which her crimson shawls could not altogether shut out, having nothing else to think of bat the tender interest thai this haggard but handsome recluse of a person' took . in her misfortunes, and feeling that if ho had been as hard' hearted as his housekeeper she might not now have been alive, and finding life ever so sweet in her languid conval esceneo,' she was constrained to ask ' of this comely but stern negro woman souethins of her master. " Was he alone in the world P Had he no kiw dredP" Hagar looked up from her knitting so stolidly that Mrs. Dclplaine added, " Father or mother, wife or chil drenP" : ' ' ' '' ' Hagar deliberately turned the heel of her stocking before she fully satisfied the curiosity ot the convalescent. Then she vouchsafed to say that he was quite alone: no father, nor mother, norchil'n as far as she knowed." There used to be a wife a poor, sickly creelur but she was done gone South years ago; and never come back. 'Did the poor lady die there P" said Mrs. Delplaine. Hagar hesitated a minute. Then she said, ?' Yes she died there.sure enough." . " And how many years has he lived in this desolate region, friendless and aloneP" said Mrs. Delplaine. Hagar reckoned it was a considerable time, but gave it as her opinion that some people's room was better'n their company; and adding that Mrs. I Del plaine was talking too much, and that she had bettor go to sleep, Hagar went out of the room No sooner had she gone than Mi. Hume entered. It had been customary for him to relieve Hagar's duties in the sick-room. Unconsciously, perhaps, he had been listening for Hagar's retreat ing footsteps. : Who can govern these vague yearnings that sometimes beset the strongest human heart P As he en tered the room his face brightened ; the cavernous .furrows in his brow seemed to straighten out into joyous benignity; the very angles of his nature, sharpen ed by the hopeless loneliness of his life, became smooth, and took comfortable, rounded shapes to themselves ; and he greeted the pale pretty woman in the straight-backed chair with a peculiar and charming tenderness of tone and manner,' born of his new experience, that would have frightened and aston ished himself had he been a looker-on But Mrs. Delplaine was neither fright ened nor astonished. She was still so weak that Hagar's harsh and abrupt re plies had brought foolish tears to her eyes, which still hung upon her lashes as sho smiled upon ' Mr. Hume. ' She gave herself up to the sweet relief and comfort of his presence. .'She began to believe that destiny had determined this remarkable event in her life, and felt an irresistible desire to further the de signs of fate. She had never in her life seen any one so noble and majestic, yet so gentle aud tender, as this preacher. Sho felt that 'she would much rather dwell with him " in the midst of alarms than reign in this horrible place;" but any thing was better than to part with him. ; ' ' "I am glad you have come," she said; 'I have something to say to you." A strange, wistful, discomfited look in his face disquieted her, and she added, gently, " You will not despise a little ad vice and remonstrance of mine?" "I could despise nothing with which you wore associated," ha said. ; : " Then listen to me," she continued sit here by my side and listen to me. I am getting quite strong and well. You have saved my lifo, you and your good Hagar, and the worst of it is that now I must go away." Here she paused, and enjoyed the sudden wincing in his face, and resolved more and more to spare him the pang of parting. :" I am going to coax you away from here," she said. " Indeed, indeed, Mr. Hume May I call you Paul?" Yes," he replied, but began to grow pale. " Indeed you are quite thrown away in this place. " It would be so sweet to me to see you admired and deified and bowed down to, as the world ont yonder does to men like yon. They love a sil ver tongue, do the people. Will you let me manage it for you? I promise you, if you will, our parting shall be brief. I have considerable influence, which I will wield in your behalf. You have but to be known to be appreciated. See the rood vou ruiirht do. Paul." she added, coaxingly. Her face took fire as i she uttered bis name, but that of the i preacher grew paler and paler. " I am "Tatefiil to vou. he rcDlieil. himself to cater to the pre fere aces of a woman. She yielded at once. Because you are stubborn and prood," she said, because yon can not Und to any weak frivolity; and if yon will not yield to my wishes, there is nothing loft to me but to submit mysolf to vours. Well," then, I will also re main hero. It matters little where live, and this hi a winsome country in Its way. I think we shall soon have a promise of spring. On that big stern rock outside the window I saw the poor moss growing just a little greon. I can get some eld house, and old houses can be refurnished. Cold gray home-spun can give place to Persian wools, odorous fires can still glow in old emmnoy places. Since it is your will, sir, to re main in this place, you will not object if I make this wilderness to blossom as the roso.' : Mrs. Delplaine!" he said, crunch ing the slim white hand that rested on the arm of the chair close in the quiver ing muscles of his own. My name is Laura," she interrupt ed, softly. Mrs. Delplaine,". he repeated, "you will not remain here, neither will I go You will take with you the only true happiness I have ever known ; the mem ory of it will perhaps serve to make the rest of mv life endurable.' And now let me tell yon, loveliest and most gen erous of women, why I can not go' and you can not stay. When I was but a lad of twenty," said the preacher, "and still pursuing my studies, I fell in love with a young woman who lived in tho neighborhood of the college. I soon learned that her passion was feigned from the first, and that she only married me from motives of convenience; but mine, such as it was, lounaeaupona delusion, and nursed by ephemeral va garies of the brain, led me into a fool's paradise ; and even when the bitterness of her mistake and my own began to eat into our lives, it sickens me to re member how I strove against it, how meanly and servilely I shut my eyes and groped blindfold for the old mockery. But it had long been a ghost,., and the time came when even the memory of it was a curse. Then the cross was per haps heavier for llor to bear than for me. Tied, to a man whose pursuits,, thoughts, ambitions, affections, she could , neither understand nor appre ciate, condemned to the propriety aud soberness allotted to the ; life of a' preacher's wife,' even denied the com fort of wearing gay trinkets and appar el, often she has told me that she envied the freedom of an Indian squaw, and how glad she'd be to know nothing but Choctaw to get rid of the eternal preaching, preaching." "Poor soul! " said Mrs. Delplaine, with an involuntary shudder at the life the parson portrayed. . Then she added, with infinite tenderness, 'Ah! but she did not love you!" ... , "No," said Mr. Hume; "and, God forgive me, there were times' when I was tempted to put an end to my life, it bred such misery for us both. ' At last a merciful Providence I can only think it such enfeebled her health and took the corporal sting from her slavery. The powerful vitality which lont a dan gerous strength to her longings and dis content was broken, and she became content to be amused and taken care of in a way that was possible to mo. An old nurse connected with the family was induced to take entire charge of her The indolence of a Southern climate suited her desires and capacities. As for me, the rigor and sterility of this region held a charm for me ; its loneli ness, its isolation, soothed and consoled me ; and so the years went by, till you came." ' ' ' Here he got upon his feet, and bent over her, taking both her hands in his. His face had gradually gained a sad serenity. "I can, not be sorry we have met," he said, "it has been such a joy to me. Even in parting there is some thing sweet in the knowledge that you take with you some brief interest in my poor life." Mrs. Delplaine's hands trembled with in his own. The story of the parson held something sinister to a light, luxury-loving nature. A shrill wind rattled at the casement ; a heavy black canopy of cloud had fallen upon the mountain and hung there like a pall ; the room had grown dark and cold. Suddenly Mrs. Delplaine kicked with her little heel the embers into a blaze ; resolutely she turned from the window; 1 her eves shown lenrlerlr? a flm of ! color burned in her check. j Why should we part?" shesaid.look- i ing gravely up in his face. " I will not j have it so. Why should both our lives ' 1 f..- ! I her while she lived" j ' "Ah!" said Mr. Hume, drawino- a quick breath. ! llke Banner, Mariette Bey supplies " What what is it?" cried Mrs. Del- : sketches of the agriculture, trade, com plaine. " She is dead ; Hagar told me ' merce and fine arts of the ancient Egyp she died long ago." ' tians ; nor are their pastimes neglected i No, no," said Mr. Hume. " God i bobbing, not for eels, but cx-xwdiles forbid! She is not yet fit to die." I Thn Un. Tfelnlaine aank haik!nlwi chair, mad drear her hands from hU I I would like to be alone," she said, , and before be was fairly oat of the room - she burst into passionate weeding; bat tho minister went straight to his study, where he passed the night in wakeful misery. - . At daybreak the stage stoppod again at the parson's door, and several big trunks were hoisted to the top. Hagar helped in a veiled and shawled figure that seemed to the few passengers prin cipally made np of big wistful eyes. These eyes wero glued to the windows of the coach, and two other wild, hag gard orbs from the parson's study fol. lowed the lumbering vehicle till it be came lost in its tortuous descent of the hill. " All this happened not many years ago, and it seemed as yesterday to the poor parson when, upon one morning, with a trembling hand he addressed a newspa per to a lady then traveling abroad. It contained the intelligence of the death of poor Mrs. Hume at Nassau. The sole answer he received was a shabby foreign sheet, wherein among the marriages he found that of Mrs. .Delplaine. Har pers weekly. A Successful Flying Machine. A Hartford (Conn.) dispatch to the Chicago Tribune says: The first sue cessful exhibition, it is believed, ever given of a flying machine controllable by an aeronaut withont the use of bal last or the waste of gas was given here this afternoon, in the presenoe of a large assemblage. 1 he machine is the inven tion of Prof. E. F. Richtel, of Bridge port, Conn., Who, after seven years of experimenting, has solved the problem which has so long defied inventors and scientists. Those who witnessed the ex hibition believe the right principle is found, and that aerial navigation is only a question of time. Richtel 's machine differs from all previous inventions. It embraces a balloon of a horizontal, cyl indrical shape, only twenty by twelve feet, holding 3,000 feet of gas, from which, suspended by cords, is a narrow framework, of hollow steel rods as long as the balloon, and pointed at either end. The operator sits in his seat at the centre of the framework and turns a crank, ' which revolves a four-bladed air-propel ler, inclined horizontally immediately beneath his seat, by which the balloon is elevated or depressed at pleasure the propeller having a raising power of six pounds. At one end of the frame work is another air-propeller, inclined vertically, byNvhich the balloon may be. propelled . against the resistance of a slight breeze, and also steered, . the wheel being 'of the steering propeller model. With the operator on board the entire weight slightly exceeds the lifting power of the gas in the balloon, but this deficiency is supplied by the propeller under the seat. Although the conditions were unfavorable this afternoon, it being rainy, the exhibitor was eminently suc cessful, rising to 100 feet. The opera tor's power of raising or lowering his position was shown. Then he went off eastward 100 rods, turned around twice, and, at a signal from the inventor, start ed back against a slight breeze blowing, and landed in the exhibition grounds. amid applause. After showing imme- iately over the heads of tho spectators the case with which the machine navi gated in any direction the exhibition was terminated by a heavy thunder-storm. Prof. Richtel's claims appear to be well based that is, the machine will keep moving in the air until the operator wants to descend, is wholly independ ent of ballast, and suffers no waste of gas. Consequently, the machine will float for an extended journey, is capable of reach ing favorable air currents without loss ' of power, and of coming to the ground when desired. Two machines have been ordered for exhibition purposes' at Ni agara Falls. . Tho Old Folks at Home. ' ' In the Egyptian pavilion a marvelous specimen of the old folks at home can be viewed. It is a model of a dwelling house in the time of Abraham ; it is said to be so real, that were Isaac to ever visit the Promised Land of the Troca- dero, and provided with a franc ticket, he might enter the house in question and find it just as if he had oidy left it Mariette Bey, the celebrated archaeolo gist, has set up this tabernacle from finds of ancient architecture Diamonds and pictures are catalogued as carefully w Durham oxen and Dihley rams; so witn Mariette Bey, he has the pedigree a11 tle building-stones discovered in the land of Pharaohs, and he concludes the Egyptian architecture was in its de- cline in the time of Father Abraham. In and hippopotamuses, was a plucky ana common amusement, and often the unesman was usen. was taken, when be !.uiea i . 1- - a u.n .V . .rt tnal- ,er I-Me wlum mUn w tBi manly sport. Paris iV. lilti"r Bui etim.