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Her eyes are lovclr. I won't tell What hue their loveliness may show ; Her braided hair becomes her well , \ In i TL t Is myt&ret , " ' ' ' if' f - She wa Iks with such a dainty charm , Bui whether she be short or tall , Of rounded limb or yph-llkeform-v ] Her figure suits me that Is all 1 Nor do 'I choose the" world'to know If silk her dress , or calico. Tous'glrl is worth her weightss Not in rough , gold , but diamonds fine , And whether that be small orgreat I leave the reader to divine. Ask me to gu gether solid worth fehe would outweigh the whole round earth 1 * To rhyme her praise la such delight That I must keep it to myself- . , IJcst one should better versep write- " And lay me gently "on the shelf. 1 am not 'jealous , but you see , This charming girl belongs to me. ' "A MELODY. The clothes-line was wound securely around the trunks of four gnarled , crooked -old apple-trees whum stood promiscuously about the yard back of the cottage. It was tree blossoming time , but these were -too aged and sap less to blqasom freely , and there was only awhite bough here and there shaking"1 * itself * -triumphantly from Ainongat.the rest , which had only their new green leaves. There was a branch occasionally which had not even these , but pierced the tender green and the flossy white in hard gray nakedness. All over the yard the grass was young and green and short , and nad not yet gotten any feather , ) heads. Once in a while there was a dandelion set closely down amongst it. * The cottage was low , of a dark- red color , with white facings around the windows , which had no blinds , only green paper curtains. " The back door was in the center of the house , and opened directly into the green yard , with hardly a pretense of a Step , only a flat oval stone before it. Through this door , stepping cautious ly on the stone , came presently two tall lank women in chocolate-colored calico gowns , with a basket of clothes be tween them. - They set the basket un derneath the line on the grass , with a little clothes-pin bag beside it , and then proceeded methodically to hang out the clothes. Everything of a kind went together , and the best things on the outside line , which could be seen from the street in front of the cottage. The two women were curiously -alike. They wore about the same height , and moved in the game way. Even their faces wore so similar in feature and expression that it might lave been a difficult matter to distin guish between them. All the differ ence , and that would have been scarce ly apparent to an ordinary observer , was a difference of degree , if it might be so expressed. In one face the fea tures were both bolder and sharper in outline , the eyes were a trifle larger and brighter , and the whole expression more animated and decided than in the other. One woman's scanty drab hair was a shade darker than the other's , and the negative fairness of complexion , which generally accompanies drab hair , was in one relieved by a slight tinge of warm Ted on the cheeks. This slightly intensified woman had been commonly considered the more at tractive of the two , although in reality there was very little to choose between the personal appearance of these twin sisters , Priscilla and A ary Brown. They moved about the clothes line , pinning the sweet linen on securely , fcheir thick , white stockinged ankles showing beneath their limp calicoes as they stepped , and their large , feet in cloth slippers flattening down .the short green grass. Their sleeves were rolled up , displaying their long , . , thin muscular arms , which * were sharply pointed at the elbows . They were homely women ; they were fifty and over now , but they never could have been pretty in. their teens , their features were too irredeemably irregular for that. No youthful fresh ness of complexion or expression could ever have possibly done away with the impression that thty gave. Their plainness had probably only been 'en hanced by the contrast , and these women , to people generally seemed better lookIng - Ing than when they were young. There was an honesty and patience , in both faces that showed all the plainer for their homeliness. One , the sister with the darker hair , onoved a little quicker than the other , ! nd lifted the wet clothes from the bas- \ets to the- line more frequently. She -was the first to speak , too , after they lad been hanging out the clothes for j some little time in silence. She stopped j as she did so , with a wet pillow-case in her , ' hand ) and looked up reflectively at the flowering apple boughs overhead , and the blue sky showing between , while the sweet spring wind ruffled her scanty hair a little. "I wonder , Mary , " said she , "if it would 'seem so very queer to die a onornin1 like this , say. Don't you be lieve tfiere's apple branches a-haugin' over them walls made out of precious . onaef f it wouTd seem such an awful 1C to go from this air into the air of the Now Jerusalem. " Just then a robbin hidden somewhere in the trees began to sing. "I a'pose , " she went j on , "lhat there's angels instead of rob-1 bins , and they don't roost up in tree * to sing , but stand on the ground , with lilies growin' round their feet , may be , up to their knees , or on the gold stoncn in the streeot , an * play on their harps 'to jeo with the singinji" ' "V T The othervsister gave a scared , awed look ! at hr.r 'Lor , ( don't talk that wy , sisjer ' aid imo. 'tWhat lisa got iutu you lately ? " 'You mate mo crawl all o-er , talkin' s much about dyin' . You feel well , don't you ? " Lor , yes , " replied the other , laugh ing , and picking -up a clothes-pin for her pillow-case ; " 1 feel well enough ? an't don't know what lias got me to 'talkinnsd'much''Sbout' dyin' * lately ? or thinkin about it. I guess it's-the spring , weather. P'raps flowers growin' niake anybody thinkof wings sproutinj kinder nateralfy. I won't talk BO much about it if it bothers you , au' I don't know but its sorter uateral it should. Did you get the potatoes before we came out , sister ? " with an awkward and kindly effort to change the subject. "No , " replied the ether , stooping over the , clothes-basket. There was such a film of'tears' in her .dull blue eyes that she'could not distinguish one article from another. "Well , I guess you had better go in an' 'em then ain't worth get , ; they any thing , this time of year , unless they soak awhile , an' I'll finish hangin' out the clothes while you do it. " "Well , pVaps I'd better , " the other woman replied , straightening herself up from the clothes-basket. Then she went into the house without another word ; but down in the deep cellar , a minute later , she sobbed ever the pota to barrel as if her heart would break. Her sister's remarks had filled her with a vague apprehension and grief which she could not throw off. .And there was something a little singular about it. Both these women had always been of a deeply religious cast of mind. They had studied.the Bible faithfully , if not underataudingly , and their religion had strongly tinctured their daily life. They knew almost as much about the Old Testament prophets as they did about their neighbors ; and that was saying a good deal of two single women in a New England country town. Still this religious element in their natures could hardly have been termed spirituality. It deviated from -that as much as any thing of religion which is in one way spirituality itself could. Both sisters were eminently practical in all affairs of life , down to" their very dreams , and Priscilla especially so. She had dealt in religion with the bare facts of sin and repentance , future punish ment and reward. She had dwelt very little , probably , upon the poetic splen dors of the Eternal City and talked about them still less. Indeed , she had always * been reticent about her relig ious convictions , and had said very lit tle about them even to her sister. The two women , with God in. their thoughts every moment , seldom had spoken His name to each other. For Priscilla to talk in the strain that she had to-day , and for a. week or two pre vious , off and on , was , from its extreme deviation from her usual custom , cer tainly startling. Poor Mary , sobbing over the potato barrel , thought it .was a sign of approaching preaching death. She had a few super- stitious-liko grafts upon her practical , common-place character. She wiped her eyes finally , and went up-st'iirs with her tin basin of potatoes , which were carefully washed and put to soak by the lime her sister came in with the empty basket. At twelve exactly the two sat down to dinner in the clean kitchen , which was one of the two rooms the cottage" boasted. The narrow entry ran from the front door to the back. On one side was the kitchen and living room ; an the other , the room where the sis ters slept. There wore two small un- Rnishod lofts overheard , reached by a step-ladder through a little scuttle in Lho entry ceiling , and that-was all be sides. The sisters had earned the cot- ; age and'paid for it years before , by working as tailoresses. Thpy had quite i snug sum iu _ the bank besides , which ; hey had saved out of their hard earn- ngs. There was no need for Priscilla vnd Mary to work so hard , people said , jut work hard they did , and work hard ; hny would as long as they lived. The nere habit of work had become as nec- jssart'to them as breathing. [ fust1as * soon as they "nad finished ; heir meal and cleared away the dishes hey put on some clean starched purple jrints , which were their afternoon Besses , and seated themselves at the wo front windows with their work ; the louse faced southwest , so the sunlight itreamed through both.It was a very varui day for the season , and the windows dews were open. In the yard outside jreat clumps of lilac stood close to )0th. They grow on the other side of he front door , too ; a little later the ow cottage would look half buried in hem. The shadows of their "leaves nade a dancing net-work over the reshly yellow floor. The two sisters sat there and sewed > n some coarse vests all tho"afternoon. . Neither made a remark often. The oem , with its glossy little cooking- love , its eight-day clock on the mantel , ts chintz-cughionodrocking-chairs , and he dancing shadows of the lilac leaves m its yellow floor , looked pleasant and reacefnl. Just before six o'clock a neighbor Iropped in with her cream pitcher to iorrow some milk for tea , and she sat lown for a minute's chat after she had ; ot filled. They had been talking a aw moments on neighborhood topics , rhen all of a-sudden Priacilla-lefc her wrk fall and raised her hand. "Hush ! " rhispored sho. The other two stopped talking , and islened , staring at her wonderingly , iut they could hoar nothing. "What is it , Miss Prisciila ? " asked the neighbor , with round , blue eyes. She was a pretty young thing , who had piiot been married long. "Hush ! Don't speak. Don't you hear that beautiful ' mus\c \ ? " Her. ear was toward'the'opertVindow , her hand still raisedwtimiugly , and her e'yes ffixed on' ttie opposite wall beyond tueniT * " " ' * * - - * - Alary turned visibly paler than her usual dull paleness , and shuddered. "I don't hoar any music , she said. "Do you , Miss Moore1/ , * "No-o , " replied the caller , her simple little face beginning to put on a scared look , fipmVvagiib sense of a mystery shejcouid not fathom. , t Kifary.Browii rose * , and went to the ; door/.and looked'eagerly up and down the street. "There ain't no organ-man in sight anywhere , " said she returning , "an'I can't hear , any music , an' . Miss Moore can't , an' we're bp .h sharp enough o' heanu' . You're jist iniagin- in'it , sister. " "I never imagined anything in my life , " returned the other , "an' it ain't likely I'm goiif to begin now. It's the beautifulest music. It comes from over the orchard there. Can't you hear it ? But it seems to me it's grnwin' a little fainter like now. I guesc It's movin' off , perhaps. " Mary Brown set her lips hard. The grief and anxiety she had felt lately turned suddenly to unreasoning anger against the cause of it ; through her very love she fired with quick wrath at the'beloved object. Still she did Hot say nuioh , only : "I guess it must be movin' off , " with a Jaugh , which had an unpleasant ring in it. After the neighbor had gone , how ever , she said more , standing before her sister with her arms folded squarely across her bosom. "Now , Priscilla Brown , " she " exclaimed , "I think it's about time to "put a stop to this. I've heard about enough of it. What do you s'pose Miss Moore thought of you ? Next thing it'll be all over town that you're gettin' spiritual notions. To day it's music that nobody else can hear , an' yesterday you smelled roses , and there ainjt one in blossom this time o' year , and all the time you're talkin' about dyin' . For my part , I don't see why you ain't as likely to live as I am. You're uncommon hearty on vittles. You ate a pretty good dinner to-day for a dyin' person. " "I didn'tsay I vas goin' to die , " re plied Priscilla , meekly ; the two sisters seemed suddenly to have changed na tures. "An' I'lTtry not to talk so , if it plagues you. I told-youJLwouldn't this mornin' , but the music kinder took me by surprise like , an11 thought may be you an' Miss Moore could here- . I can just hear it a little bit now , like the dy in'away of a bell. " * "There ! " cried the you go agin oth er sharply.1)0 for mercy's sakestop , Priscilla. There ain't no music. " "Well , I won't talk any more about it , " she answered patiently ; and she rose and began setting the table for tea , while Alary satfdown" and resumed her sewing , drawing the thread through the cloth with quick , uneven jerks. That night the pretty girl neighbo ; was aroused from her first sleep by a distressed voice at her bed-room win dow , crying "Miss MoorePMisaMoore ! ' She spoke to her husband , whoM opened the window. "What's wanted ? " 11 he asked , peering out Into the dark ness. ] "Priscilla's sick , " moaned the distressed - 1 tressed voice ; "awful sick. She's faint1 1 ed , an' I can't bring her to. Go for the.i . i doctor quick ! quick ! , quick. " The t voice ended in a shriek on the last J word , and the speaker turned and ran back to the cottage , where , on the bed lay a pale , gaunt woman , who had noi stirred since she left it. Immovable through all her sister's agony , she lay there , her features shaping themselva out more and more from the shadows , the bed clothes that covered her limbs taking on an awtul rigidity. "Sho must have died in her sleep , ' the doctor said , when ho came , "with- aut a struggle. " When Mary Brown really under stood that her sister was dead , she left tier to the kindly ministrations of the * oed women who are always ready in mch times in a country place , and ivent and sat by the kitchen window in ; he chair which her sister had occupied ; hat afternoon. There the women found her when ; he last offices had boon done for the lead. "Come homo with mo to-night , " one laid ; "Miss Green will stay with her , vith a turn of her head toward the op- > osito room , and un emphasis on the jronouu which distinguished it at once rom ono applied to a living person. "No , " biiid Mary Brown ; "I'm L-goin to sefrhero ar. ' listen. " She had ho window wide open , leaning her tead out into the chilly night air. The women looked at each other ; one apped her head , another nodded hers. 'Poor thing ! " said a third. I a "Yousec , " went on Mary Brown , till speaking with her head leaned out if the windoV , "I was cross with her his afternoon because she talked ubout icarin' nnuiic. I was cross , an' spoke ip sharp to her , because I loved her , mt I don't'think she know. I didn't rant to think she was goin to die , but ho was. An' she heard the music. It 'true. ' An' I'm ' fas now a-goin' to get ioro au' listen tiH I hear it too , an' hen IJH know she ain't laid up what I aid .ain me , an that I'm a-goin 'to . , They found it Jmpossibla to reason ai rith her ; there she sat till morning , 6 ( nth beside her lis- ra a pitying woman , - aning all.in vain for unearthly melody. raas Next day they sent for a widowed as iecc of the sisters , who came at once , ringing her little boy with her. She ras a , kindly young woman , and took ! up her abode in the little cottage , and did the best she could for her poor aunt , who , it soon became evident , would never be quite herself again. There she would sit at the kitchen win dow and-listen day after day. She took a greatfancy to her niece's little boy , and used often to hold him in her lap as she sat there. Once in a while she would ask him if he heard any music. "An innocent little thing like him hears quicker than a hard unbelievin' old woman like me , " she told his mother once. She lived BO for nearly a year after her sister died. It was evident thtit she had failed gradually and surely , though there was no apparent disease. It seemed to trouble her exceedingly that she never heard theynusic she listened for. She had an idea that she could not die unless she did. and her whole eoul seemed filled with longing to join her beloved twin sister , and be assured of her forgiveness. This sister-love was 11 abe had ever felt , besides her love of God , in any-strong degree ; all the pas sion of devotion of which this homely , common-place woman was capable was centered in that , and the unsatisfied strength of it was killing her. The ' weaker she grew the more earnestly she listened. She was too feeble to eit up , but she would not consent to lie in bed ; and made them bolster her up with pillows in a , rocking chair by the win dow. At last she died , in the spring , a week or two before her sister hud the year before. The season was a little more advanced this year , and the apyle trees were blossomed out further than they were then. She died about , 10 o'clock in the morning. The day be fore her niooe had been called into the room by a shrill cry of rapture from her : "I've heard it ! I've heard it ! " she cried : "A faint sound o' music , like the dyin' away of a bell ! " , "Big Game" in India. Hunters who wish to bag"biggame" should lose no time in visiting the un happy hunting grounds that are situat ed among the jungles of the Madras Presidency'India. Hunting , .which is a pastime in most countries , is a neces sary occupation , if not a duty , in this "neck of woods. " If the human in habitants should not keep up an active war against the ferocious animals , the latter would goon extuminate the form er. A conbtant warfare for the suprem acy is going on. The official reports show that during last year wild beasts killed 1,195 persons , while human be ings killed 2,055 uangerous wild beasts. Among the dangerous wild beasts killed were five ferocious elephants. This was not a large number , but it must be kept in mind that one elephant can do a great amount of damage. He , goes through a country spreading deso lation like a tornado , uproots trees , ov erturns houses , demolishes carriages , and kills domesticated animals and men. Each of the elephants slain last season had "killed his man. " Among the animals killed were 278 tigers , 1,300 panthers and leopards , 213 bears and M wolves. No less than 920 huge ser pents were also slain. These monsters tiad killed 206 human beings. Bears are credited with killing 11 , and panthers 26. The tiger is held in the greatest terror. It is far more dangerous than Lhe lion. It is the impersonation of hunger , cruelty and cunning. Its ap petite appears never to be fully eatis- Sed. In early life it devours the help less young of other wild animals. As 1 becomes larger and stronger it at- -acks full-grown donieBlicated animals. Finally it gets sufficiently bold to pur- me men. It lurka * by the wayside or idar wells and springs , ready to leap ipon the traveler or the water-seeker. Leopards and panthers are dangerous mough , but are less t'estructive of hunan - nan life than tigers. The character of the wild animals of i country exerts a most powerful in- luence on the settlement and the pros- jority of its inhabitants. In this re- ipect the territory occupied by the Uu- ted States was most remarkable. In he opinion of an eminent naturalist , it iontained no wild animal that was not > f more benefit than disadvantage to ho settlers. It alound d in fur-bcar- ng animals , whoso skins were in dc- uand in all the great centers of wealth ind civilization. These skins confati- uted a source of wealth to the early ettlers. Hunting and trapping were irolUablo employments when people ; ould not engage in fanning. Some of he skina were converted into garments , nd othera into money. The skins of mffalos were made into garments , eni- iloyed as coverings- beds , or used s protection in sleighs. Moose , deer , ntelope and bears furnished meat un- il domesticated animals could be intro- nced and raised in sufficient numbers 3 supply the people with food. Their it and hides were useful for a great ariety ol purposes. Rabbits , squir- ela , ground-hoge , opossums and 'coons Iso furnished valuable moat and skins , 'oxos and bears did seine damage , but rere useful in keeping in check many f the small animals that rank as ver- lin. They were easily caught iu traps r killed by the use of fire-arms , and icir skins were very valuable iind rought a high price at a time when gricultural products raised at a dis- ince from water communication could ot bo eold for nionev or exchanged for rticles of food and"clothing. . All the ativo animals of thia country are of isy extermination. Most-of them dis- ppear before the march of civilization , ! id only stay as long as they are want- 1 by -inhabitants. . The Hindoos tight load happier and , ' less exciting ves if their game wero'as valuable and little troublesome. How many creditors mia their "dues hon nature's debt is paid ? The Italian Soldier. nrton Dftlir W nr , . _ _ The Italian soldier , as a rule , is short and spare built , and his general ap pearance conveys the impression of "a - * not over robusttphysique. Bailee him marching , and it soon becomes appar ent "tKat he possesses1 more.48tamina than one would"give him credit for How nnmurmuringly he trndges for' hours at a time along a dusty road un- a der a hot sun with his heavy knapsack Ig on his back and his rifle slung across his shoulder. And our surprise is in creased when wo find'what meagre ra tions he has totmsluin him .under all his toil. . , * t * * . - , ' His chief meal consists of soup made with lard , meat and macaroni or some other kind of paste. His mess is pre pared in large caldrons , round which at a given signal the men gather , each with a tin can , into which is poured a not -very abundant e-ipply of soup and an almost invisible lump of moat. In > setting out on a long march the soldier drinks the soup and keeps the meat to ' cut on the road. Besidc's this he gets coffee without milk in the morning and about two pounds of bread to List him throughout the day. A tumbler of wine is served out to him on an average every third or fourth day in the year. If his food is-Spartan in its. simplici ty his dress is equally exempted from the charge of luxury. A loose coat of coarse grayish blue cloth covers the in fantry soldier from neck to knee. His trousers arc of the same material , but . when marching the latter arc exchang ed for canvas trousers , and when working - , ing in camp a canvas tunic is donned < instead \ > i the coat. His headgear is a * I kepi , very like that in use in the V French army. ( " The uniform of the Bersaglieri ia somewhat more "expressed in fancy. * ' This arm consists of picked men ; in deed , only strong fellows could march at the rapid pace tney are trained to. Oth erwise their drill is much the same as that of the ordinary infantry regiments. They wear u block tunic with red fac ings , and black , broad-brimmed hot , with a bunch of green feathers stuck atone ono side. They are armed like the in fantry , with Wetterly rifles. The cav alry and artillery are comparatively weaker arms than the infantry. The former poorly mounted , and the guns and train of the latter are below par. y- The cavalry are divided into heavy cavalry or dragoons , lancers and liglTt cavalry. The dragoons are easily dis tinguished by their helmets. Both they and the lancers are armed with lance and ( Witterly ) musket. The light cav alry , or Cavallegieri , have revolver * instead of Inncos. Singularly enough , the cavalry have their swords and mus kets fastened to the baddies , so that if unhorsed they are defenseless. I have already remarked that the physique of the men is better than outward appear ances would denote. As regards f heir general disposition , I may remark that they are docile , obedient to their superiors , well behaved - / haved , cheerful and laboripus. In times ' of danger and disaster , as during the cholera of 1867 , the inundations ot last year , and on the occasion of the recent earthquake at Ischia , they work with an ardor and eelf-devotion which is gratefully recognized by their fellow- citizens. Tbty lack , hoAvever , the emartnesa both in dress and drill , and the martial bearing of English or German soldiers. The former and less important de ficiency is the natural ou-.comc of Italy's endeavors to maintain a larger army than she can afford properly to equip. The inferiority of the drill ia doubtless chiefly due to the shorluessbf the time of service ( thirty months ) an che scarcity of sergeants in the army. i Entertaining a Guest. > Phlladelpliln. Ca-1. " 1 can't altogether like this young man Miiiken who comes to see you so sftea. I hear that he is nothing but a ooor dry goods clerk , " is what the head sf the family said to his daughter one lay at the dinner-table. 'He is a very nice young gentleman , " eplied the daughter , " "besides , he is something more than a 'poor dry goods jlerk. ' He gets a large salary and is nanager of ono of-the departments , and jxpects some day to have an interest in ; he business. " "I hope he may , " responded the old nn , "but he strikes ine as a very flip- > ant , impertinent young peison , and n my opinion he should be sat down IPOU. " , . "Well , I have invited him to take tea .y vith us this evening , " said the dau < * her - er , "and I hope you will treat him jolitely at least. You will find him a ery different person from what you upposc him to be. " "Oh , I'll treat him politely enough , " ic said. That evening Mr. Milliken appeared .t supper and made a most favorable repression upon the old gentleman. 'He is a clever young fellow , after all , " le thought. " 1 have done him an in- ? usticc. " It was just here that Bobby spoke out. Jobby was n well-meaning little boy , ut too talkative. "Papa , " he ventured , "you know rhat you eaid to-day- dinner abdut Ir. Milliken ; that he was an imperti- i * ent young mau and ought to be sat > own " ' upon - "Silence , sir ! " shouted the father , wallowing a mouthful of hot potato. But the little boy wouldn't silence. It's all right , " he continued , confiden- ally , but in a whisper to be heard loud nough to be heard out of doors , "ha as oeeu sat down upon. Sister sat own on him-lost night for two hours. " ' After this the dinner went on mora uietly , owing to Bobby's sudden and cry jerky departure. t The farmer's J bewt friend -Eliza lizuwho ? Fertilizer.