a“ .I ‘,
_ "" '1“.
1. .
Juo‘cs NOT.
0h, men.,who are good. who are honored and
urea ‘- .
,Be kind to your brothers of lowly estate.
If masters. then be not in tasking severe.
If rulers, then rule men in love and not fear.
And if ye be fathers. wise, learned and strong
Lead the little ones tenderly. slowly along. ‘
Ere you sneer at the humble or punish the base
Pause and think for awhile, “Put yourself in
their place!”
Fairlady, so haughty, so chaste and so cold.
Kept safe from harm in love’s sheltering fold.
Ere you turn from your frail,- erring sister
with scorn, . 3
Think how she was tempted and how she was
born. ‘
.,,
Her ruin mayvdate from a smile or kind word. 3
The first that her poor, hungry heart ever
‘ ' heard. ' ' >
Then pause ere you taunt her with sin and.
disgrace- -
How, if you had been tried?
- in her p acel"
"Put yourself in their place!" Yea, have
mercy on all '
Who through love or through hate, good or
evil shall fall; _ , ‘ -.
Who knows in the light of a judgment divine.
Which soul shall be whitest, the sinner’s or
~ thinel' ,
Fear go judge lest you stand at the heavenly
cor,
1‘0 see liar-lots and publicans go in before.
Whil; you'cover with guilty confession your
ace. .
And cry when too late, to be put in their
place!
“Put yourself
-—Phebe Cary.
TRIAL BY FIRE.
The Major was one of themany well-
born Englishmen who came to Califor-
nia with a younger son’s portion and a
small monthly allowance, and hope to
make a fortune on a vineyard or 'a
wheat ranch. The plan always looks
feasible in England, and the agent as-
sures his victim that the £1,000 will buy
a ten acre plot, plant vines, build a. de-
Cent bungalow and tide the owner over
until'the vines shall bear and bring him
aharvest of good American gold.
The Major was going the way of many
of his English friends. The £1,0001eg-
acy was gone, and the monthly allow-
ance of £20 (which viewed from a dis-
tance, seemed large) always grew pain-
fully small as it neared California and
the debts it was always supposed to
cover. ‘ -
It may be that the Major’s failure to
succeed in the grape business was not
the fault of the country, but that his
genial, impractical nature was the true
obstacle to success. He was, in fact.
the most helpless Englishman who had
come to California to take care of him-
self. ‘
The poor fellow became so convinced
of this after a short trial that he engaged
a man to act as valet to himself and in-
cidentially cook the meals for both. The
Major was a solitary bachelor then. The
gods alone know in what un propitious
moment he picked up Pete, to hang
about his neck, a millstone of ineflicien
cy. . Pete’s poverty must have been his
recommendation and the Major’s pover- ‘
ty the excuse for keeping him. Pete had
about as much knowledge of laying out
and caring for a man’s wardrobe as the
MajOr had of running a ranch. The
consequence was that he often present
ed himself at his‘friends’ houses in the
most surprising garb, a combination of
white duck trousers, black frock coat
and russet hunting boots being one of
Pete’s masterpieces.
When the Major married Ellie Smith,
a pretty San Francisco girl, he pro-
moted Pete to be manager of the ranch,
and expended his grooming talents on
the pet mule. The Major’s wife was ar-
tistic. She had done, some sketching,
and did some really clever bits. Her ad-
miring husband was . sure that she pos-
sessed the divine afilatus, and conse-
quently much time was devoted to art
and little to ranching.
But this was not without protest from
one individual. Not that he was dis-
turbed from lack of work, but poor Pete
was oftener than not the unwilling
model for Ellie’s clever studies. One day
Pete posed for “The Man With the
Hoe.” His temper was particularly
tried on that occasion, for he had taken
up his tool with the honest, intention of
weeding the primitive vegetable gar-
den.
Though he had scudded through the
back yard and‘ climbed the, rear fence,
he had not counted on meeting his mis.
tress in the barnyard. He began to
wrestle with the weeds and pretended
not to see her. His education, how-
ever, did not include a sight of Millet’s
picture, or he would have flown dmvn
the mountain side in utter despair.
“Stop, stop, Pete, right there. Don’t
move an inch,” called the sweet voice
that drove him to madness. “Kenneth,”
Ellie called to her husband, “look. Isn’t
it wonderful? The lights, the pose, the '
very landscape like—”
" ‘fl‘he Man With the Hce,’ shouted
Maj or, gleefully. “I’ll get your paints
Ellie. Hold on Pete,” and before that
honest son of toil had time to colleCt his ‘
scattered senses, he fOund himself pos-
ing in a very uncomfortable attitude,
with the Napa Valley lying at his feet
and the Major‘s familiar phrases ring-
ing in his ears—“fine pose—jolly good
subject—delicious coloring.”
After Pete posed for a hundred or'
more indifferent works of arts without
names, he began to think of desert-ing
his master and leaving him toa just
and awful fate. But this stupendous
,blow was averted by the arrival of'
,Bronipton Edwards, another English-
man,“ who had come to learn ranching
under the direction of his father’s old
friend, the Major.
Azter a week had been given up to
driving his protege about the valley and
introducing him to the English colony,
the lajor returned to his daily routine
of pruning olive trees and digging out
worm eaten grape vines. Ellie soon dis-
covered in the young man’s clean cut
features and fine athletic figure an en~'
tirely new field for art study, and Ed-
wards found‘the time pass more pleas
antly' as a model than as an embryo
rancher. They .were together during
most of the daylight ‘hour. When
Brampton was not posing for a wild
Norseman or a Greek hero, he was sit
ting very close to Ellie, criticising. i2;
son. care sing tones. the sketches, (,3
of .iimselr xl'hzcii she had been (10:21;
1.-....
\
I
part Brompton Edwards played on the
Without actually straying from the path
of duty, Ellie was treading on danger-_'
msly uncertain territory.
She quite frankly admitted to herself
that she was pretty and charming, and.
being of that mind, she did not repress
comparisons between her husband and
the younger man.
Matters had arrivedat a state when
a warm hearted. but vain young woman
needed a friend with the strength to
hold up a good, powerful, unrelenting .
mirror for her to gaze into. Pete could
have held up the mirror with right '
good will, but he did not know how. In
those days he followed the Major with
dog like devotion wherever he went,
and only glowered when Ellie came out
to the orchard one morning with her
paints and succeeded in bringing upon
herself a scolding from her over indulg-
ent husband. ,
She held her head very high and stiff.
and marched over the hill some distance
away, where she seated herself and pre-
tended to sketch, but was in reality
nursing her injured feelings to keep
them alive. The Major watched her
disappear with a pained expression on
his good natured face, and then went
dejectedly into the house. ,
Pete was deeply incensed against El-
lie, and made another solemn vow to
desert the ranch. It was the ninety and
ninth time he had done so. and this
time he sealed the vow with an oath. .
The long grass on the hills was burn:
ed and crisp, and Ellie was daubing
yellow ochre and burnt umber over her
canvas with vicious strokes. She was
not giving any attention to her work,
however. for an athletic form stood be-
tween her and, the landscape, and she
was indulging in a very foolish day
dream. To do the little woman justice,
she was not in love with Brompton, but
her vanity had been stimulated to such
wonderful activity by his youthful gal-
lantries that she fancied he was deeply
infatuated with her. She wondered if
he would ever tell her that he loved
her. If she could only have some test'
he. ~
Over on the mountain side, a half ;-.
mile away, Pete leaned on his hoe anl
watched a thread of fire crawling, like
a red snake, through the under crush.
He only knew too well that no human
power could stop it, and that within a
few minutes the ‘gentle‘ breeze would
cause ' a flying spark to fall upon the
long dry grass, and pufil—the crawlin,r
snake would become a great swirlizr,
galloping mass of flame and smoke, and
would pass over the very place where
Ellie sat sulking and dreaming.
Pete had firmly determined to leave
the ranch. He had washed his hands
of these people. He would not—but the
grass was on fire, and Pete made a (lath
for the house, yelling at the top of his
lungs for the Major.
The volume of smoke was rising high
when Ellie rose to her feet and sniffed
the air. Before she could gather up her
paints althin rim of fire ran along the
top of the little hill above her. The
small birds and insects rose from the
ground with a whir, and scattered
down the hillside.
Ellie glanced quickly backward, and
saw the fire licking up the grass as it
bore down up on her and the smoke roll-
ing heavenward in dense, sooty clouds.
She did not lose her presence of mind,
but remembered a small ployved field a
short distance 01f, where the flames
could not reach her, and ran nimbly
down the hill, with her fluttering skirts
gathering cockle burs and stickler weed
as she sped. .
When she was fairly on the plowed
ground and gasping for breath, she saw
the young Englishman teal ing along
the hill at a frantic rate. - Through the
smoke he looked pale and frightened.’
Ellie felt a thrill of satisfaction; here
was the longed for proof of his love, he
thought she was in danger and had
come to her rescue. A deep blush mount
ed to her cheeks and ,her heart beat to
suffocation. But he did not seem to see
her. It was evident to her he was
crazed with fear and would plunge into
the fire in search for her. Merciful God!
he would be burned.
“Bromptonl” she screamed;
Brompton, I am here, safe !”
The fire was very close, and she had
to throw herself flat on. the ground to'
escape being burned. She gave one
more despairing cry as she felt the hot
breath scorch her clothing:
‘ ‘Bro’mpton l Brompton 1
ton l”
A great wave of smoke and flame
swept around the edges of the plowed
ground, and for a minute nothing coulJ
be seen or heard. Fortunately for Ellie,
the dry grass burned like tinder, and
the fire was soon roaring down the hill
toward the valley. _.
When Ellie, choked and frightened.
lifted her head, she saw the thin, long.
scantily clad legs of herhusband bound
ing over the blackened earth toward
her. His duck trousers were smeared
with soot, and he had a wet blanket
around his shoulders. He could not
utter a word, but caught Ellie in his
arms and burst into ratified sobs.
Backof them was heard the voice of
Brompton. .
“Hello, there, Major,” he called; "I
had a very narrow squeak of it. My
hammock and books are burned to tim-
der by this time. By Jove, old fellow.
you are burned yourself, aren’t your
Your wife was safe enough. Iknew she
could take care of herself.”
"Well, well,” gasped Pete, who had
stumbled upthe hill with a bundle of
wet sacks, "I never was so plague):
scared in my life. Thought you’d be
burned sure, Miss Ellie; Me an’ the
Major’ll have a fine time next wee}:
clearingu-m” ' '
, For Pete had reconsidered his ninety
and ninth vow. Indeed it was only a ’
week later when he was speculating ii
there was ever a happier couple than
the Major and his Ellie. And Pete
beamedas he thought of the ignobls
“dear
Bromp
day of the fires—Sam Francisco A"; \-
nautl ' '
of his love what a satisfaction it would -
' Gladys.
'THE CHILD'S FACE-A .1
There’s nothing more pure in Heaven. -
And nothing on earth more mild,
More run of the light that is all divine.
Than the smile of a little child.
The sinless lips, half parted
With breath as sweet as the air,
And the light that seems so glad to shine
In the gold of the sunny hair.
0, little one, smile and bless me!
Fer somehow—I know not why——
i feel in my soul. when children smile,
That angels are‘passing by. '
I feel that the gates of Heaven
Are nearer thanI knew, . .
That the light and the hope of that sweeter
world, .
Like the dawn, are breaking through.
-—-New York News-Letter.
A TALE OF JEWELS.
Character—Gladys Thornton, Major
Garforth and Lady Raynclere.
Scene—A boudoir in the dusk; on an in-
laid table' in a corner letters and
letters.
Gladys (to herself)—Let me see,
what’s the time? Five o’clock, and I
don’t dress till seven. What‘a long
time! I wonder if my guardian will
come. So funny of him! Never a word
all these weeks but the barest congrat-
ulatory note, followed by a letter all
about my stupid Argentines. Two
weeks to-morrow! It is dreadfully near.
I wonder how that tiara will look on
the day. (Goes to the table, unfastens
a jewel case, puts on tiara, and stands
on tip toe on the edge of the fender,
gazing into the mirror.)
(Enter Major Garforth, who stands
waiting.)
Gladys (turning suddenly)—Charlie,
how you frightened me! Why did
you?
Major Garforth—It was an interesting
study.
Gladys—So unnecessary. 'Did no one
announce you? "
Major Garforth—Your seneschal had
a liurried air. I announced myself.
Aren‘t you going to offer me any tea,
Gl.-.dys?
Gladys—I beg your pardon. What
' do you think of this?
Major Garforth—Not half bad for the
future Lady Raynclere. »
Gladys—Not half bad! Look at
them. ' (Goes down on her knees by the
fire.) See the light playing in the big
stone, Charlie-red, blue and green, like
a fairy tale. And then, did you ever be-
hold such opals?
Major Garforth—The fetters seem
well gilded. Second hand. Isuppose?
Gladys—What do you mean?
Major Garforth—Heirlooms—pardon
my blunt ways.
Gladys (stiflly walking away and dis-
entangling the tiara, which catches in
brown hair)-——The diamonds belonged
to the famfir in Edward the Third’s
time. They were brought as dower by
a French princess. 3 '
Major Garforth—And they have es-
caped the family pawnbroker? Won~
denful!
Gladys—Charlie, you are simply de-
testable. This is one of the days when I
like you less than other days. Can Ger-
ald or I help his mother’s and his grand-
mother’s gambling propensities?
Major Garforth—My dear girl, heaven
forbid you should attempt anything so
hopeless. I have the very highest opin-
ion of Lord Raynclere; he is a worthy
fellow. ,
Gladys—Worthy of me?
Major Garforth—V’la une autre paire
de manches.
Gladys—Oh, thank you! Come, that’s
an improvement. ,
Major Garforth—Some cream, please.-
It was quite unintentional. '
Gladys—But you have never congrat-
ulated me.
Major Garforth—Is it usual to con-
gratulate the lady?
Gladys——Then you do not think, like
my aunt Euphasia, that I am “a very
lucky girl?” “The heir to the marqui-
sate, too, and Such an elegant youth!” I
Wonder how many times she has told
her cronies that.
Major Garforth—I repeat that Rayn-
clere is a worthy fellow.
Gladys—And I that I am sick of ex-
pression. Come and see this bracelet.
It has just come. Diamonds tool Ger-
ald’slast gift. He gave me my choice
between this and a. necklace; but I ex-
pected the family to give me that, so I
chose this. And now I have no necklace.
It really is very annoying. Who ever
heard of a bride without a diamond
necklace? It would be like being mar-
_ ried in an ulster. Pity me! ‘
Major Garforth—Indeed I do.
Gladys—All the same, these stones do
not suit me; they are too hard.
Major Garforth—S till, Badysfote ex-
pects its women to do their— .3
~ Gladys—-You mean the lords of Badys-
t‘ote have been wont to wear their wives
:n like fashion. 0, Charlie, I think I
see myself sparkling in the front. The
Badysfote hunt has green lapcls, by the
way. Look at me; can you hear him?
"Behold, this is my wife, my many-
r'acetted Kohinoor. She becomes my
wife, marvellously well.” Ha, ha, ha!
(Dances hysterically across the 'room
swinging the tiara, which whisks into
the fender.) 0, poor Gerald! What
am I saying? Charlie please help me to
co good. (Drops into a chair.)
Major Garforth —To return to the
earlier topic. You say these stones are
lard. You know, Women don't know
now to wear jewels; you foeget that
he wearer-is the chief thing.
Gladys—Go on; I am resigned.
Major Garforth—A jewel should be a
point of light in the whole, a touch of
smoldering fire—smoldering, observe—4
half hidden by fine lace. Nowadays
women wear their gew-gaws like pos-
rer men, blatant‘wise. Do they ever
remember the cost of their glitter?
Gladys—-Charlie-, you are positively
sordid—vulgar. ' ~
Major Garforth—Allow me. (Exam:
ines bracelet.) Thirteen large stone.
Thirteen lives, Gladys; a man‘s lif.»
blood to the cutting of each, perhap.
It is dirty work, digging diamonds,
They make niggers do it, an...
the heatis deadly Only niggers don -.
—-———....—__.__- __ _. - ”g--. _ '
women whats the stones cost, or else,
perhaps, they Would not be worn. Per-
1.1393!
Gladys—Oh, Charlie. The poor nig-
gersl But h0w can I help it if they
will dig? How unkind you are to-day;
quite horrid, and cross and didactic.
What is the matter?
Major Garforth—Age
Gladys,
Glrdys—Age? Let me look at you.
(Puts her hands on his shoulders and
draws him to the firelight.) Why, you
aren’t old; there isn’t a streak of gray
in your hair; and you are’nt bald, andI
never noticed your eyes before; they are
quite decent, I declare. I like blue
eyes much better than brown. Ger-
ald’s are brown; it is a great pity.
Your eyes are like—like—
Major Garforth (freeing himself)—
Silly child! .
Gladys (saucily)-—I thought you would
like an expert’s opinion, that’s all.
Charlie, what stone are my eyes like?
Look (turning on the electric light and
standing under the chandelier).
Major Garforth—Jade.
Gladys—How dare you!
Major Garforth—But they are green.
Gladys—Oh, I see; how dull and
opaque. I’m not 'anI and opaque.
Look again.
Major Garforth—I am no expert,
Gladys. .
' (A ring at the bell.) .
Gladys—That’s Raynclere. And the
tiara of .the second Marchioness is ly-
ing in the fender among the ashes. For
goodness sake, pick it up, quick. (En-
ter Lord Reynclere.) Oh, Gerald, it’s
a good thing you have come. Here’s
my guardian moralizing; he has been
putting me through my paces.
Lord Reynclere—HOW do, Garforth;
Have you had a row with my little
and gout,
- lady?
Major Garforth—Far from it. Only
a little counsel up to the moment when
it will be my proud privilege to surren-
der my ward to your— .
Gladys—Don’t be idiotic any longer.
He is putting it on, Gerald. (Enter a
servant with a parcel.) Oh, here’s an-
other, and it means another note. Ger-
ald, you must write the notes now.
After this I strike. (Discovering a
necklace.) Oh, it is a necklace. How
exquisite, how artistic. , (Holds it up.)
Major Garforth—I am delighted it
finds favor in your eyes. A little bau-
ble, picked up at Venice. Second
hand, Gladys, but the old designs are
worth having. With your permission,
Raynclere. (Clasps it round her neck.)
and almost as intricate. Good by, good
by, Raynclere; I am due at the Scrib-
ners’ to-night. (Exit)
Lord Raynclere—Gladys, what does
he mean?
Gladys—Gout, Gerald. Promise me
you will never have gout.
Lord Raynclere—Poor old chap. I
promise, darling. (Curtain.)——Black
and White.
A GREAT COMMANDER.
Maximo Gomez Saves His Cook by a Flue
Piece of Strategy.
The leader of the Cuban revolution is
a nian of large intelligence. Not many
days ago a company of Spanish soldiers,
who must have been brave men, cap-
tured his cook, who was told that he
would be shot next morning as a rebel.
It was news of an unpleasant kind to
Gomez, who prized highly his faithful
cook, one able’ to catch chickens while
on the march and cook them during a
battle. '
The revolutionary Napoleon, not at
all disheartened, determined to prevent
the tragedy. He charged upon a Span-
ish camp, captured two of their Lieu-
tenants, carried them to his headquar-
ters in the saddle, and immediately for-
warded a note to the Spanish officer,
Col. Galbis, in possession of his cook,
notifying him that unless the cook were
returned to his picket lines before dawn
of next morning the two Lieutenants
who were his prisoners would be shot
at sunrise.
It was hardly yet dawn when the
cook rode up to the revolutionary head-
quarters, whereupon the two Spanish
Lieutenants were reEeased, with orders
to report to Col. Galbis. By a justifia
ble menace, by the offer of a fair ex-
change, Gomez had ransomed his es-
teemed cook; and we would not be sur-
prised to learn that he had an unusually
tender chicken, curried to perfection,
for breakfast that morning. The coflee,
too, you may be sure, was prime.
stronger than any ever grown in Go-
mez’s own Domenicia.—New York Sun.
The Dog Was Too Faithtul. "
A man with a handsome Newfound-
'- land dog, registered at a New York ho-
tel a few days ago. During the evening
, the proprietor of the hotel was attracted
to the man‘s room by the howling of
the dog. He forced an entrance and
num with suicidal intent. He sent for
help, but the dog would not permit any-
one to approach his master, and it was
' not until half an hour had elapsed that
the dog was captured and taken out of
the room, too late to save the man’s
life.
A Watch the Size of a Solitaire.
‘The latest watch is a, marvel of in-
genuity. It is the size of a small soli-
taire. and is intended to be worn as a
button of a shirt or sleeve.
SPCTIEE
takes out ink, paint, 3
tar, pitch, grease "
and stains from
clothing and car-
pets quickly and
completely and
_N_ev_er_ Leaves .53 Ring ‘ - .
—No Acid.— 106.. 256., at Drug
No unpleasant odor. and Dry Goods Stores
N ot inflammable. Samples mailed, So.
I. B. SUTTON, New Canaan, ()t.
its)”
:3/ "a
' Sold,by FINNEY & BENEDICT.
count 'out there. And men don’t tell"
As delicate as your feelings, Gladys, .
found them an had taken a:dose of lauda- ..
.‘iPoT'I-n E .
BLAZJDO 'SURPRISED.
A YANKEE HUSTLER SHOCKS THE
DlCTATOR OF VENEZUELA.
An Amusing Story of an American’s Di-
plomacy. Showing How He Got 8 Val-
uable Concession from President Gun-
man Blanca. ~ , -
A gentleman who went to Venezuela
some years ago to secure a contract
from the Government tells an interest—
ing story of his experience with Gun?
man Blanco, who was the autocrat of
that country. For three or four months
he was kept dangling around the Ca so
Amarilla (the yellow house), in which
the President resides, and finally told
Guzman that he wanted a final a'nswer.
Guzman turned to him with some im-
patience and said:
"Come to my country home at Anti-
mino at 6 o’clock to:morrow morning
and we will then try and close the mat-
ter up.” ' > '
“I’ll be on hand,
was the reply.
The next morning he was called at
four. galloped out to Antimino, and was
at the Dictator's residence before the
your Excellency,”
clock in the parish church struck six.
To his surprise he found 20 or 30 people
waiting to be received, and some of
them men of importance, while the
President sat upon the porch sipping
his coffee and reading his paper. It was
considered a dreadful breach of etiquette '
to interrupt the great man when he was
reading, and there was not a person in
the company Who dared to do it. They
simply stood around or set by where he
could see them and awaited his sum-
mons. But the Yankee marched boldly
up to the porch and said: ‘
“Good morning, Genera .”
Guzman Blanco looked up in surprise
from his paper, but the Yankee, know-
ing his temper and peculiarities, did not
wait for him to speak.
“In my country. General,” he said,»
“it is not the custom to get up early,
but it is also a point of honor to meet
an engagement promptly, and you see I
am here on time.”
“Have you had your coffee?” asked
Guzman. '
"Yes, sir; at the hotel a few minutes
ago.” ‘
“It must have been miserable stuff.
You ought to taste mine. I use none
but what I grow on my own plantation,
and always carry it with me, no matter
to what part of the world I go,” and
ringing the hell he ordered a. cup of
coffee and a roll for his caller.
“I wish my people were as prompt as
you. Our great fault as anation is pro-
crastination. If we were as energetic
as yOur countrymen Venezuela would
be a. richer and more productive nation,"
he said, and with that they went into
business.
For an hour the details of the conces-
sion were discussed, and, being agreed
upon, the President dictated to. his
stenographer the terms of the contract.
Then turning to his guest, he said:
“My secretary will write this out and
to-morrow we will sign it.”
“I would prefer to have the document
signed now,” replied the Yankee. “You
have just said that the fault of your
people was procrastination, and I pro-
pose that we avoid it this time.”
The secretary looked up in amaze-
ment. He had seen men sent to the cal-
aboose for less, and evidently expected
that the Dictator would call a police-
man to take the Yankee in charge.
Guzmanwas a little angry at first,
but seeing that his guest was not abash—
ed, smiled and said:
“That is a neat way of applying my
philosophy to your own interest. We
will wait until the document is {fin-
ished and sign it here.”
Handing a cigar to the Yankee, he lit
one himself and sat down for a chat
while the secretary was writing. In a
moment or two the Director General of
Police tapped on the door. and said that
he wanted to see the President concern-
ing a matter that required his instant at-
tention.
“You will have to wait until I am
through With the Yankee.” was the Dic-
tator’s reply; "he is teaching me the
way they do business in the United
States.”—Chic3go Record.
MISS MEARS, SCULPTOR.
A Girl of Twenty Years Adams the Wis-
consin Capitol.
Miss Nellie Meats, of Oshkosh, Wis,
is the girl who has conceived and exe-
cuted the heroic statue to be placed on
the Capitol Building at Madison, Wis.
Miss Mears is only 20 years old, and
the work is remarkable, in view of- her
age. She won her fame first at the
World’s Fair. She took for the subject
of this statue the figure of a woman
and an eagle. The eagle is of course
“Old Abe”_who attained national fame
by his service in a Wisconsin regiment.
A Cape May Phenomenon.
A recent despatch to the Philadelphia
Ledger from Cape May had the follow-
ing: A remarkable atmospheric phe-
nomenon occurred early this morning
over the ocean. The frosty air there
was filled for some twenty feet deep
with ice crystals, the frozen evaporation
of the warmer water of the sea. "All
the fleecy, flaky characteristics of drift-
ing snow were present. On this bank
the shipping of the ofiing seemed to
glide in and out of the bay like figures
on the mimic stage. The sun had as-
cended some thirty degrees above the
horizon before the novel sight disap-
peared by the melting of this attenuated
snow bank. Seamen note such occur-
rences in the Gulf Stream, where the
warm water of the ocean is evaporated
and frozen near its surface, on frosty
mornings when the air is still.
An Adventurous Spirit.
“Hello, Billy, where’s your wife?”
' “She’s gone On a whaling expedition
up in the nursery.”—Chicago Record.
3 ' Diana, of Maine.
Mrs. Bowman Ames, of Blanchard}
Me., has shot a large deer and trapped
five foxes near her home this winter
withoutaid from any one. . '
ney and ere long he was seated beside
' Never, under any provocation. You see,
DOLLY ON w‘oaos.
She Cheprfully , Enlighten: McAllister
- McIlhenny. - '_
McAllister McIlhenny was plunged in
thong t, but he was safe, for it wasn’t
over his head. '
Only over his heart.
He was revolving in his mind what to
say to the beautiful Brooklyn belle he
had loved last and was still loving. '
In other words McIlhenny had wheels
—emotional wheels.
After a long time he shook himself
fiercely and hissed between his firm set
teeth: .
"She shall be mine, I swear it.”
Then he set forth on his heart’s jour-
‘ner on an elegantly upholstered fau-
teuil. - .
"Miss Dolly,” he said- after the usual _
meteorological references had been mu-
tually cited, as is the custom when two
persons meet, “I love you with a love
that passes understanding.” ’
She looked down at his feet and
realized how great his love for her must
be.
“Why, Mr. McIlhenny,” she exclaim-
ed twitteringly as a bird twitters.
“Yes, Miss Dolly—dear Miss Dolly—-
dear Dolly—darling. dolly,” he went on
in a succession of emotional explosions,
“and you can set my throbbing heart
forever at rest ifqou will.”
“How, Mr. McIlhennri” she murmur-
ed.
“By 'answering'a question with one
little word—only one.” '
“Oh, how funny, Mr. McIlhenny.
What is the question?"
“Will you be mine, dearest?” »
It was very sudden and {Dolly was ‘
scarcely expecting it, .but she didn’t ‘
lose her head. '
She merely dropped it, as maidens do
when they are proposed to.”
“And will one little word answer so
important a question,” she asked almost
tremulously.
McIlhenny was a creature of impulse,
but he did not intend to let his impetu
osity ruin his cause if he could prevent
such a catastrophe. He might unwit
tingly have given‘an opportunity to he"
to say “no,” but he was too careful to:
that. .
So he hedged.
“Only one little word. daring.” he
whispered, as he slipped his 1:31:21 o'er
to take hers,” but there must 1:»;- fires
letters in it.” 3 v
The beautiful belle hesitated for '.l in
stant; then there came to her 501': .
eyes a look of seraphic triumph. a melt-
ing as of all the grosser element.- into
the other; a soul of a saint. the g1: rified
submission of a woman’s heart to thc
blissful tyranny of its master. ’
At leasl that was the way it sir-.10}:
McAllister McIlhenny as he held out his
eager, pleading hands to her. .
"Nit,” she said; and McAllister Mr
Ilhenny cursed every three let-tore".
word ‘in the English language.~—New
York Sun.
i'.- ’
.1 I.“ i
SHE WOULDN’T ARGUE.
And So She Preserved Her Health
._and Good Looks.
She had a merry eye, a lineless .
forehead and a wicked red mouth. '
though her hair was touched with sil»
ver.
Asked her secret of youth, she thought
a minute, then said smiling happily:
“If I have one it is I never argue.
I don’t hold any belief myself in any
way that needs confirmatiOn, and I
found out long ago that in argument i
yourself was the only person you could
ever succeed in convincing of the right-
ness of you view. .
“Then there is the further fact that
the points most usually argued are those
the arguers know nothing whatever .
about. That, you can’t deny, is wear-
ing—hearing people dogmatize over
things whereof their ignorance could be ‘
cut with a knife. , 4
“Nor do I ever exert myself to set
them right. Like Rachel of old, I ‘sit =
upon the secret’ and say nothing. I have
my reward, too, the people whose pet de-
lusions I respect, go about telling every-
body I am one of the brighest and best
'nformed women they know.”
Another of Lincoln's J okel.
This is a brand new Lincoln story and ,
true like all of this series: .
President Lincoln reached Meade Sta. ,
tion, near Petersburg soon after a seri‘ 3
ous battle in which about 2,000 Confed-
erates were made prisoners. General
Meade was on the President’s left- and
Colonel George D. Ruggles on his right.
On their way to headquarters they rode
to a point where they could see the
large assemblage of prisoners. , With
the prisoners were many colored ser- ,
vents and laborers. !
“Mr. Lincoln,” said General Meade,
“I guess uggles did not overestimate
the number of men captured.”
Mr. Lincoln checked his horse, delib-
erately Surveyed the field full of Ggr- .
don’s disarmed men and the contrebands ’
and said: ‘
"Yes, General, the number is there in
black and whiter—Chicago Times-Her-
aid.
...a.. nut“
‘3 .. .— ‘.
.2:
r‘rve.
The Queen Getting Good.
Err—Queen Liliuokalani has been bap-
tized and confirmed by Bishop Willis,
the Anglican bishop. ’ She lids not Q
hitherto been a'member of any church,
:llthuugi a. regular attendant.
v
‘ I’IACNOSR ‘
56 YEARS ESTABLISHED.
GRAND AND UPRIGHT." :2.
Nearly 100,000 Manufactured”; a '
EASY TERMS. “ EXCHANGED.‘ '
' REASONABLE emcee. . '
h’
FISCHER PIANO WAREROOMS. j ’
Ilo,Flfth YAve" cor. lath 81., N. Y..
Wrmfor Catalogue. “a. _
,..._a.....
“-4
Norwalk Chronicler