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HHE HAPPY NEW YEAR.
BY EHIIiY TnOBNT6N. The ehm air is crisp, for tho Frost Klug lis- OIobos His ttny ice-apenva, which lie liangn on tho ftavos No frngrauoe of gammer, no petals of rosos, To brush as we pass wc soe only donil leavBR. Nov, deft, merry Christmas has swiftly le tcd Tear stands scanning the ghosts of the past We gaze o'er liis slioukloM, and feel heavy hearted To think months and seasous are fading so fust. See!-whirled in mid air are white snow flakes deseending Eaah Sake seems a sp(ril dropped down from above. As though for the New Year to oarth tlioy come, lending A promiBo of purity. Mossing and love. The tall trumpet-creeper, whose scarlot-odgeil Sowers Last rammer mode pay its beautiful dross. Stooii j'osterday drooping and leafless for hours, Now snow-clad it glemus in renewed loveli- How itpilee, how it gathers, tho snow in WhftO neKH Led onward by Silence, who moves without Brand! Their feet shod ia crystal and sparkling bright ness, They rtrapo frosted vosturo o'er treo, luish, and eround. We t.bonuht with the summer all bounty was dying! Wc fell ought with the Old Year all joy flown away I But spirits of snow to our shorn woi'Srt came flying, And the New Yoic lias blossings, pcriiupB, for oach day. Hark! wild bells are ringing! yes, joy Mis arc flinging Oat woleomos of glos to another Now Yeav. May each moment- be crowded with lausbter and singing. And during its stay may no sorrow lvo.w noar! •King oil, New Year beils, iot. thy Biuging meiin gladness Ring «il ills away, but ing 1'ipvc's wnvnith within Thengli the Old Yoar just diol and wo saw it with Badnes* Yet jbajipy may prove tlio Now Year now in. SACRIFICED IN VAIN. BY ClIMHIOKLANIJ STVAKT. IT was midnight. The liugering moonbeams were streaming pla cidly over the towers of tlie old Russian oonvent. In the dis tance looming forth like a great dark uiountain was the cas tle of Count Groski, now deep [in mourn iug for the death of ww. its late master. To tho left, darkest and gloomiest of all was the old prison in which, helpless and disconsolate, crouching in agony upon his course bed, lay the once proud form of Col. Bornoff, the Count's as sassin. But a single day before and he was a man whose might and power could well be feared now a common felon accused of the basest crime, the murder of his best friend,(the man with whom in earlier days he, bad laughed' aud played and exchanged his childish confidence. We who live in other climes cannot realize how deep must be the attach ment to the principles of an organiza tion to cause a man to thus slay his nearest friend. The Count was an earnest supporter of his Emperior, while Col. Bornoff who had always been, publicly at least, considered as eminently loyal, was in reality an ardent Nihilist. For the success of nihilism the Count's life must be sacrificed, and upon Col. Born ofF had fallen the task of offering up this sacrifice. Detection had fol lowed, and his life must now pay the forfeit. For him there was indeed no hope., None knew better than he how relent less was the Emperor where crimes of this nature were involved. Sad in deed must have been the thoughts of that gray-bearded man as he lay with no company but his own thoughts. Truly is a guilty conscience its own con demnation. Not a sound was to be heard nave the scampering of rats as they ran about the cells,and corridor. But listen! was that not a human footstep? His mind flew to other scenes. His daughter Tima, his only and idolized child, could it be her? Was she coming to set him at lib erty. Ardently, earnestly he prayed that it might be true. The hope was faint and he was doomed to disappoint ment. The soft footfalls oarne nearer, nearer, like the treading of -a tiger in search of prey. Then a pause, not a movement anywhere, save the anxious, fascinating glances the old man cast toward the doorway of his cell. Au anxious mo ment thus passed when softly the huge bolt is drawn, the massive door swings silently back and a dark muffled figure stands in the opening. The pale, stug gling rays of moonlight enables the old man to distinguished the outline of his untimely visitor. A puzzled expression was visible upon his haggard face. Did this man come as friend or foe? Had he come to aid him or was he only here to anticipate the certain fate that awaited the prisoner It was plain that the old man was ill at ease. "What is it?* he asked, as the figure advanced toward him. "Good news, father. Youmawetbe free." Like the sunshine bursting through deep, dark clouds the old man's face brightened with an expression cf hope. "Ralph Martzv," he whispered in a trembling voice, "I have wronged you, deepiy wronged you, but only aid me to escape and henceforth my earnest pray ers are yours. Forgive the wrong I have done you in my heart." "Not so fast, old man. I cannot risk my life, aye, my liberty which is dearer, for mere thanlcs. I must otherwise be paid. You—" "Yes, yes, I forgot You shall be richly paid. Only give me my freedom and all 1 have is freely yours, my house, money, all you shall have." "You mistake me. Colonel. I want not your gold. You are welcome to keep it. I ask what to me is a more price oss treasure. Hitherto you have looked with scorn upon my aspirations sow, even I am so situated that my ser vices are not to bo despised." There was a tone of triumph in his voice as he ceased speaking to note the effect of hi* words. The old man replied not a word, but nat-a-, a man struck dumb by a mighty revocation. "You know what I seek, father," he continued in a more patroniziuR tone, "little Tirna is very dear to nie. give her into my keeping and when she ii safely mine von may have your much-prized freedom if not," aud the evil face hardened, "I shall most certainly leave you to your fate." What a price to pay! Asked to sac rifice the life happiness of his only child by binding her forever to a man whom she loathed and detested, and that, too, when he knew that her heart was given to another. Who can imagine the ter rible struggle iti that man's mind? What wonder that great beads of per spiration stood upon his brow? "O, Balph, Ralph!" he whispered faintly in his agony. "Is there nothing else? Will not gold tempt you Have pity she is not mine to give," and the old man sank back, trembling. "No, there is no other earthly con sideration that would tempt nie to take the risk which I must incur in giving you your liberty. You make your own choice." For a moment Col Bornoff sat deep in thought. His own lii'e was the prize at: stake, yet he hesitated to sacrifice the happiness of her whom he most loved. He half raised his head. "She must decide. Ralph. You must, soe her. I can not force her to give up so much for my. sake." Tiieu by the aid of the feeble moou beams the old gray-haired Colonel wrote a hasty note to bis child that she might know its beaver wa3 not imposing upon her in tho message which he was to carry. "If she accepts I will return at mid night to-morrow night. Tirua shall ac company mi.', and together we will leave forever this land of sorrow. If not. good-by we shall not meet again," and as softly aud cautiously as he en tered Ralph Martzv left the cell, and the helpless victim who gazed after him with a look of intense longing which he could not hope to .satisfy. In the morning Ralph sought out the house where little Tirna Bornoff lived. As he advanced to the doorway of the little morning room in which she was seated it was plain that he loved her with all the strength of his evil villain ous heart. "Nay, nay, my pretty one," he called to her as at sight of him she arose to leave the room "You have no call to fly. See, I bring a message for you. It is from your father," and he held alott the hastily written note which he had received Home hours before. At nutation of that name, Tirna stopped. What could the mau meau Then a sudden glad thought filled her braiu with a glad little cry she rushed across the room, grasped the missive from his hands and with fingers tremb ling in their eagerness she tore it open. A smothered moan escaped her lips. How different to what she had antici pated. Her father was still a prisoner and she had expected to learn that by some kind agency he had made good his escape. Completely overcome she sank into a chair and tried to compose her self and to think. Ralph's voice recalled her. Come, my lady. This is no time for fine feel ings. Is the thought of being my wife so terrible as this?" _What could she do? a ohance was piveu her to save her father's life, if she did not avail herself of it, no matter at what cost to herself, did she not become her father's murderer? She looked upon the man before her and then her thoughts reverted to him, now far away, to whom she had pledged herself for life and eterntitv. Her most earnest pleadings availed her nothing. He was persistently ob stinate in his purpose. The die was cast. With heartrendering anguish she determined to make the sacrifice of all hope of earthly happiness for the sake of filial love. She knew that she could trust him to fulfill his promise, and the same means that had afforded him en trance to the prison would again safely pass them within those terrible walls. The stars of heaven were shining forth as celestial-born witnesses, when the ceremony was performed that made those two forever one. Even the angels must have wept to see those two, whose hearts were so widely separated, tbus unalterably bound together. Faithful to his promise, Ralph at the appointed time repaired to the prison. Cautiously did he and faithful Time make their way within those grim, dark walls. With equal care they turned the bolt and the anxious daughter be held the door swang back, open to her father's freedom. With a smothered cry of gladness she sprang through the opening aud to the side of her father's couch. The old man was quiet now. Strange that he should be thus sleeping but his daughter's voice will waken him. But no. Oh, God! another Hand had beeu his deliverer! Tirna's sacrifice had been all in vain. Earthly judge should never sit in judgment on his case, before a higher court would he plead his cause for mercy, for stretched at full length upon his couch was Col. Bornoff—dead! A fteiio or Snmi-IiarbarUm. Although many people have noticed two or three buttons on the sleeves ol coats, civil and military, few know the reason of the custom. They were first put upon the sleeves of soldiers in the British army. Prior to the buttoned sleeves soldiers had the habit of draw ing their sleeves across their mouthfi when a napkin could have been used tc better advantage. As a matter of course the cuff became shiny and de faced. Punishment and reprimand, were tried, but they failed to check thft habit. As a last resort a board of offi cers mot aud unanimously adopted a plan suggested by one of their number, which was "to sew two or three rough beads or buttons upon the top part 'if the sleeve of every military coat." Tfv.is had the desired effeot. Br degrees »jl diers as well as civilians beuame more tidy. The buttons were not removed from the sleeves, however, only slid around to the back or underside, where they still linger, a relic of semi-barbar ism, an ornament, nevertheless. I» the distribution of vocations it is a strange fact that the man who could run a newspaper to suit every one is al ways in aome other business than jour nalism. Lj.HMivim.mm. BoOK BINOitO. Tlio Or it and UUlnry r.f tho The necessity of protecting mm: A serijjis from injury was practically recognized in the earliest historic- times, but it was reserved for tho Greeks, who fastened the leaves ar.d then encased them in plain leather, to lay the founda tion of modern bookbinding. In Rome the covering of manuscripts asmnied a more ornamental character. Cicero's taste it ihis respect ivas particularly ex travagant. Every s.jroll in his library at Tu&eulum had an iraposiug dress. Tho pugillaria. a few leave* of ivory or wood, were held tf getber at the back by rings, but were eventually arrayed in leather and secured with clasps. Horace and others tell us that a book shop was to be found in every large city, and the binders (usually slaves) doubtless became persons of some im portance in the community. Another advance in the art is shown in the pon derous collections of statutes which the Byzantine emj-eroi of the fifth century, evidently with an eye to effect, took •vit.li them in their publio processions. These volumes were bound in a leather of some bright color, and were slightly ornamented. In tho Middle -Ages, when many monks became binders for amuse ment, the typical cover consisted of two heavy boards in leather or vellum, with corner plates, bosses, thick clasiis, and a tasteless profusion of enamels, gold ornaments, and precious stones. The Arabs at this period showed more judg ment in work of tlie kind, bat if any ex amples of it found their way to Western Europe the lessons they taught were disregared. The iuveution of printing, joined to the revival of letters, naturally led to a revolution in bibliopogy. Books came from tho press so quickly that a less ex pensive mode of binding them had to be devised. The Italians at once solved the problem in the most satisfactory way. The unwieldy wooden boards were laid aside in favor of pasteboard with morocco or some other line leather spread over it, and blind or gold tooling was.substituted for enamels and gems in ornamentation. The result was a gain to art, especially as great painters did not- think it beneath their dignity to occupy themselves with designs for book covers. Most of the Italiau bind ings united richness with the purest taste, and it- is not too much to say that those turned out by Tommaso Mailio have never beeu surpassed. Before many years had elapsed a French school of binding was founded by Grolier the foremost book collector of hi9 time. Modeling his style upon that of the Italians, ho yet gave it independent value and interest, and to the end of his long life was an enthusiast on the subject. It is worthy of note that he was the first to put the title on the back of a volume. In th« 17th century the art of binding declined in Italy, but in France, as in Germany and Flanders, it made good progress. However pros perous its votaries may have been, their lot was hardly an enviable one, as they did not escape the responsibility at tached to the printer. In 1691, Mr. Cundall informs us, one of them was hanged in Paris for having bound a libel on Louis XIV. Before the revolution broke out binding jc France shared the fate of Italy, having become clumsy in form and poor in design. England had never possessed a great bookbinder, but towards the end of the 18th century she found one in Roger Payne, who by his keen sense of artistic beauty and his technical skill might have made a for tune if he had not been over-devoted to the bottle. In his portrait he appears as "a thiu, shabby old man, standing in a little room, with books on the floor and a glue pot on the fire." In this place, which stood in Leicester square, "were executed the moat splendid speci mens of binding, and here upon the same shelf were mixed together old shoes and valuable leases, bread and cheese, costly manuscripts, and early printed books." Mr Cundall does not tell us that Lady Spencer's French maid fainted on seeing her mistress in conversation with this unlovely indi vidual, though the anecdote is related on good authority. -Exchange. Animal Wornhip. Among primitive peoples all animals are supposed to be eudowed with souls, which in many cases have formerly ani mated human beings. Hence a like ness is often recognized between an an imal and some deceased friend, and the animal is addressed as the person wcmla lmve been, and honored with a kind of worship. Many tribes call themselves by the name of and even derive their pedigree from some animal. Its cries become the omen of the tribe, and thus originate the divination and augury of the more civilized nations. Jn the modern world the most civil ized people among whom animal wor ship vigorously survives lie within the range of Brahminism. Here the sacred cow is not merely to be spared she is as a deity worshipped aud bowed to daily by the pious Hiadoo. Siva is in carnate in Hanuman, the monkey god. The divine king of birds, Garuda, is Vishnu's vehicle, and the forms of fish and bear and tortoise assumed in the avatar legends of Vishnu. Perhaps'no worship has prevailed more widely than that of the serpent. It had its place in Egypt and among the He brews, in Greece and Rome, among the Celts and Scandanavians in Europe, in Persia and Iudia, in China and Thibet, in Mexico and Peru, and in Africa, where it still flourishes as the State re ligiou in Dahomey. One Phase or City I4fe. In tracing girls who mysteriously dis appear from their homes, private de tectives find the most and more profit able of their work. In New York, it is assumed that at least five thousand girls disappear from their homes (every year. Some of them are recovered and some axe not. The causes leading to the disappearances are as numerous as the ca-es themselves. Disappointment in love, a fancied wrong, severity of treatment by parants, a desire to see the world, the evil influences of im proper association, the oily-tongued roue aud temporary insanity are some of the excuses made. Then there is an other class of disappearances which properly come under the head of kid naping, and still another, where the parents ara til loggerheads or have sep arated, aiui one side or the other steal! the child, and in nearly every cast. strange as it may seem, the chiid is t* girL Dircfiology of UiiibreUrtA. The precise umbrella has an erect rigidness of poise that turns neither to the right nor to the left. The cautious umbrella has a covert, shoulder-shading snugness that keeps close to the sheltered side of the way. The calculating umbrella has a weigh and-measure preoccupation, dipping down slowly to the right or left, like the reckoning squint of au eye. The irascible umbrella jerks through the moving mass of its kind, with a rampant air of general unsteadiness that people pause to ruffle their brows at. The good-natured umbrella has an ambling slowness of movemeut, a rest on-oars look, that seems to contemplate its fellows as subjects for laughter. The bound-to-get-there umbrella has a steady, determinate movement, that crushes and collides and knocks off hats on au "all's fair in war" principle. The going-to-the par tv umbrella bobs and skips in air, with a certain buoyant elevation that seems borne on the wings of glee. The take-it-casy umbrella hangs off with an oli-fuss, what's-the-hurry loll. Tho shy umbrella has a forward dip. like a hat pulled over the eyes. The absent-minded umbrella pro trudes comfortably from under the arm, while its owner's head acts a sub stitute. The sweet 1G umbrella has a snug, "chummy," equipose, that suggests a web and woof of "Isn't he just lovely,' confabs, with acid drop intermissions. The forlorn woman umbrella has a vigorless, broken poise, first one side theu another, like a shifted burden. The chivalric umbrella has a come and-be-sheltered hospitality of poise, held upward, outward, wi'.h a strong right-hand grip, neither in ostentation nor selfishness, but with a glorious ring round brace of protection. The heedless umbrella is a kleptoma niac. It gets into trouble with fringes and laces, obliviously carries off some body's veil, and never even halts for the injured spirit who gazes after it with a scathing "well, I never!"—Bos ton Globe. What an Indian Can Stand. To show what an Indian can stand when ho has to, I may tell of an iucf deut which happened during the winter I was with them, says the Detroit Free Press. Toward evening, on a very cold winter day, when it was snowing just a little and drifting a great deal, an Indian came to the log-house with a jug half full of whisky and with his rifle. I imagine that the jug had been entirely full of whisky when he started, and by the time he got to the house he was in rather a jolly coadition. The jug and the rifle were taken away from him and he was ordered to get to his wigwam as quick as he could before darkness came on. He left, and was supposed to have gone to the camp, but early next morn ing his squaw appeared at the house aud said that he had not come home that night, and as the night was very cold she had beeu anxious about him. Then the search for the lost Indian be gan. Ho was found in one of the sheds near the barn under a heap of drifted snow, and the chances are that the snow that was above him had helped to save his life. The searchers for the Indian had gone in different directions, aud it was his own squaw who, with true Indian instinct, had tracked him out, aud she was alone when she found him. Ap parently the Indian was a frozen corpse. She tumbled him out of the snow bank and pulled off his blankets, and dragged him down to the creek, where a deep hole was cut in the ice for the purpose of watering the cattle. Laying the Indian out on the snow, she took the pan that was beside the ice hole, and, filling it repeatedly, dashed pail ful after pailful of ice water over the body of the Indian. By the time the other unsuccessful searchers had re turned she hud her old man thawed out and seated by the fire wrapped up in in blankets. There is no question that if he had been found by the others and had beeu taken into the house frozen as he was he would have died. Scattered Pensions of Uncle Sam. It is not generally known that the op eration of the pension laws carries money periodically to men of all nation alities, who live in all quarters of the globe. They are men who were dis abled in the service of the TJ nited States, and have not since the war taken the oath of allegiance to any other govern ment. To begin near home, there is paid out of the national treasury $120,000 an nually to residents of Canada, many of whom have not seen the United States since they were mustered out at Wash ington at the close of the war. Ireland has 250 pensioners on the rolls,jivho draw an average of $12 a month, and a single county in England —Lancaster has fifty pensioners. Thousands of miles away in Australia are enough pensioners to draw nearly $2,000 a year. The dark continent has a round dozen pensioners, living prin cipally in Cape Town, South Africa, while Liberia is represented by one lone widow whose husband was freed by the emancipation proclamation, and who died of the injuries be received in fight ing the battles of "Massa Linkum." Guiseppe Osboll, away in Southern Italy, draws the modest little sum of $6 a month for the fighting he did some twenty odd years ago, aud now doubt less sits in the sun and eats macroni, while he details the deeds of valor for which the great United States Govern ment now pays him so munificently. Away down in the Mediterranean sea, on the little island of Malta, lives a Greek by the name of Amabite Feneck, who gets $12 a month to remind him of the time when he smelt powder in the far-away land of America and his ca.se is matched in Russian Finland, almost on the shores of the Arctic Ocean, where lives one Alexander Wilson, who served twenty years in the United States Navy, and who now draws a pension of $17.25 a month, which, in that land, is an in come worth having. "Mount sorrow than in anger."— The letter O. llrntn'M *wel*e-Foot Skin. Kansas City has tho distinction nos.sessiug, through one of her citizens, ho largest bear skin in the country, and presumably, the largest in the world. Although not two years old as a detached skin, it has v' ar left5. ...1 of which arc attached, and ip .• as natural, almost, as life. .£.. boar, a biack grizzly, was killed rome 'ne during the winter of lopo and lo- 'on Bear Lake, in Utah. His mate nd two cubs were killed at tlio same iitue. The bear when killed weighed 2.2S0 pounds. The bear skin was bought by Mr. Jarvis, who was about that time in the neighborhood of Bear Lake looking up some property interests. While it was being prepared for use as a rug, the fame of tho big bear skin got abroad through the local newspapers, and among others who tried to buy it was a representative of tho University of Pennsylvania. This gentleuiau offered $1,000 for it, but, al though the original purchaser had se cured it for a much smaller sum, he re fused to sell it any prico. The rug was shipped to Mr. Jarvis'last Christmas. Now comes the part in the history of the big bear skin of which the old grizzly's posterity in tho mountains of Utah may well be proud. Just before the famous Stanley dinner given in London in honor of the great explorer May 30, 1890, Henry S. Wellcome, chairman of the committee on the big entertainment, who had been in Kansas City and been particularly struck with the handsome trophy of the forest, asked for it to use ou the occasion. A rare collection of such things deoorated the banquet hall, aud the bear skin occupied a prominent plaee on the wall. Some time after the big dinner Miss Dorothy Tennant, then Stanley's fiancee and the present Mrs. Stanley, wrote to Mr. Wellcome asking for the use of the rug for a short time. Her wish was gratified, and when a few days ago Mr, Jarvis received tlie rug from London it was accompanied by a letter from Miss Tennant thanking Mr. Wellcome and describing a luncheon which she bad served on it to William E. Gladstone and Mr. Stanley. Ci-u»hol« Four or five of us entered the hotel together, but the man with the sealskin trimmed overcoat pushed his way right up to the desk, registered as J. N. Powell Jones, Boston, and loudly re marked "Best parlor bed-room you have in the caravansary, and it must be on the front, too." "Yes, sir," obsenuiously replied the clerk, aud he ran liim into the elevator before he assigned auy of the rest of us to a back room four floors up At diuner the Baron had his bottle of wine, aritl he had two waiters jumping at his command. When through he strolled iuto the office with a gold tooth pick in his mouth, sat down in a promi nent place, and, stretching out his legs, he remarked in aloud voice: "If I had time I'd like to give the Mayor of this town a few hints on how to run it. Here, yon! If the Governor calls for me say that I am out I uon't want to be bothered with him." "Who is he?" I asked of one of the group. "A drummer from Boston," he re plied. "Why, I thought him some great man." "Well, you were right, They don't grow any bigger in this country." The Baron suapped his fingers for a boy, sent for a newspaper and a cigar, and was asking if any of us had ever seen a thousand-dollar bill, when a Jow drummer for a tobacco house entered with an open telegram in his hand and handed it to the owner of the earth. It read: "Firm of Blank & Blank, Boston, gone under for $200,000." That was the firm the Baron trav eled for. He read the dispatch twice over, gasped three or four times, and then fell on the floor. The news be came public property in five minutes, and the clerk of the hotel looked coldly upon the unconscious man, and tho'b said to the colored porter: "Take him up .the freight elevator to a cheap back room, Sam, and don't waste any more water than you can help in bringing him to. As soon as he can walk, get him out." Good Language* As soon as a child beginfi to lisp its first broken sentences iti education should begin. Habits ne formed which will fcxist to a greater or less de gree throughout life. Such being the case, the conversation of the older members of the family should be care fully guarded, lest the little ones hear and learn uugramatical expressions aud slang, which, sad to say, is so rife among our young people o! the present day. The servants, with whom chil dren spend much of their time, should be chosen with referencr to this mat ter. A mother should feol it her duty to point out any gramatical mistakes made by them, and insist upon their language being correct, respectful and devoid of slang at all tines. It is ex ceedingly difficult to break children of habits once formed, and care in this di rection will save much trouble and an noyance. One way to dtaltivate the use of language, and at the same time to learn of the occupations and compan ions of her children, is for the mother to encourage the daily narration of what they have seen, heard, and en joyed, and the telling of their little ex periences. The study cf pictures, more over, in which every child delights, may be used as a great provocation of language. Children always love to look at pictures, and can almost always be induced to talk about them. This Btudy teaches them observation, and how toaccurately describe what thev eee. When stories are read to children they should be obliged to reproduce them, using as far as possible the lan guage of the book. The memory is strengthened in this way, a habit of at tention ia formed, and the power of ex pression increased. If such plau8 these are systematically c«r. ned out, they will wonderful an interesting history, as related iu the Kansas City Star. The immense rug owned by S. M. Jarvis, and occupies a place of honor iu the center of his drawing room. is twelve feet long by ten feet not counting the head, tail, pr0 b°!p ot edncition of in tho ti, a child. The careful teaching and kind nn of parents will accomplish"8^ h® Permed such which ean never study, and in after vearn home training will 'show its.,, ready command of lat!gUll(.6 eas.v, graceful power of conv0L*1 Anoru ftl1 A Geiitta Hint, was a bashful iov#t his lady's' Henry scarcely dared touch Ho loved her well and she wa„ of his affection, for she was mod telligent, sweet, and hunorahu. like ail good women she yearned respectful caresses that are dences of a pure affection. ever, yearned in vain. the She, shipped her—he might kiss theL her garment, but to kiss l,erij cheek—the very audacity of the th0' made him tremble. They sat together by the sea loo out on the track of tho moon's which white-winged yachts werec ing now and then. It was a witc hour. A sceno for love and mi light. Suddenly she moved slightly from him. "Please, Henry, don't do that" said. "What?" he askt'd in genuine prise. "Oh, you needn't tell me," elie plied. "You were just going to your arm around my waist—and were going to try to kiss ma" "Dear Lillie "Oh, you needn't tell me diff you were going to do it. Well, all, I suppose you are not to blame is just what a lovor would d» to sweetheart, and I suppose I must offended if you do it." Henry grasped the situation exactly what Lillie supposed he do, and the moon grinned and the winked, and the wavelets laughed, a mosquito that was about to alig the maiden's cheek flew away and tied on the noBe of a grass widow was sitting near the band stand. A Woman's Inventtoa. The man with fifteen pocketa it hard to understand how a wo ever manages to go shopping with pocket at most, aud often with pocket at all. He wants his hands while the Christmas shopper munt paraphernalia, but only for a mom work, but for protection from the ments as well. One who has suffered this incon ience herself, writes the Hlmtr American, has produced a pedes! umbrella-holder, which certainly ises well: This is intended especially for woman who must carry a muff, a aud numberless ei cetcrns, besid slim, slippery umbrella, with a tend V) slide out of her grasp. This simple invention leaves hands free to cope with the obst" for the umbrella slips into a few inches deep, attached to a st nickel chain with spring hooks, top of the sheath just reaches the el and button usually carried around, umbrella cover, the safety ehain is passed around the hatidle and hoo into the muin cliain, which has a c" laine hcok to fasten to the w~ When this is hung to the dress-bel' gives no more weight or discom than that indispensable side-bag w' every woman wears. In case of rain, the umbrella whipped out in a trice, while the c' and hooks are twisted into a bit a bundle that can easily drop a coat pocket, or they may be left pended from the belt, ready for furt duty. Daniel Drew's Nephew Destitute. A strange story of desertion and vation was brought out in the Po Court yesterday morning. Morrel Di 13 years old, was brought to the Sta Friday by a Central flagman. He bright boy, and answered all questi intelligently. Tiie boy's story i3 he had been driving on the canal, age and frail destitution, his cl clothes and the fact that his shoes free from mud, did not indicate that was telling the truth, but the lad the clothes were given him by a named Chiswell. for whom he drov boat from Tonawanda to Lockport. Judge became interested in the and by questioning the boy learned he was born in Seunett, Cayuga Conn and at an early age was placed in an phan asylum in Auburn, his pare having separated. He left the Asvl five years ago and went to Syracuse his father, who compelled him to for both of them. His father drank, left him to shift for himself. Si then he had beeu begging and loo for his mother. The lad was ask jokingly, if he was a relative of Drew, and he replied that Daniel Dr was his uncle that he had forme lived in Troy, and owned a big Hud River steamer. "I would have working on that steamer if it had been for my father," said the boy. was sent to jail to await disposition. Rochester Letter. No Wonder She Was Frightened. There was an old woman living 11 the American frontier who had an i" tiable desire to learn the latest ne On one ocoasion she called to a pedtll whom she had frequently saluted fore, "What's the news?" "Why," he, "the Indians have fixed a crowb under Lake Erie, and are going to^t it over and drown the world." mercy! what shall I do she exclaim and away she ran to tell her neigh of the danger, and inquire of the mi" ter how such a calamity could averted. "Why," said he, "you need not alarmed we have our Maker's pronl that He will not. again destroy the v0t by water." "I know that," returned the old li "but this time He's nothing to do it—it's them plagueyIndians!"— Me-Up. MALT liquors may not be gener#| condemned, but the concensus of ion is to the effect that Porter is a dedly unpopular here in New York. TALK about women beiug Look at bank cashiers. ve