‘ title, “Forget-Me-Nots, _ in raised letters. This little work, dis- .._......~ <‘~’ 1......w.-—- I THE FACTORY CHIMNEYSo Where, bending far. the azure dips . 'l‘o kiss the waking world below. .2... .Across the day. in dark eclipse. .- The sombre factory chimneys show; 3 Like gloomy. wardens of the land, W ith sooty banners wide unfurled. above the cluster ed town they stand. And frown defiance on the world. .— Yet they are beautiful to me. Those smoky chimneys gaunt and high. For in their volleyed clouds I see A bow of promise span the sky. 0 children at the cottage door. Play on. for there is naughtto dread, The smoke clouds from the chimneys pour And all the land is full of bread. Those sombre standards. floating far. I Give token of the reign of peace. More potent than the arms of war. Their whirling looms that never cease. Beneath that dusky cloud is wrought The fabric of a people' 5 fate. - , The victories of love and thought. 1. Transcending all the spoils of hate. hfidflu is -. There comes the sound of mingled bells: I see the sturdy toilers throng; In happy homes. where plenty dwells. .4 I hear the hous‘ewife' s cheery song. " Amid the factory' s busy hum Are mingled words‘ of hope and cheer, That greet the morn when day is come. And bless the day when night is near. For he the time when. high and wide, No smoke wreaths from the chimney tops Send cheer to all the country side, And all the hum of labor stops; 9 When men are dumb and children wail. And hearts grow sullen with despair: And food and strength and courage fail. And famine breathes in all the air. ‘ —R. C. Tongue, in _Youth‘sCompanion. .1 A POETICAL WIFE, ‘ Her ‘husband, certainly, must- 'not know. He was the sworn enemy of. all blue stockings. loved poetryso much! She had com- posed a whole volume of verses that must be put into a neat little book. With red binding, a gilt design, and the by Rosa S.. ’5 played in the shop Windows, would not be an unpleasing sight, and when Her- bert, her husband, “should see it, his unreasonable prejudice would be re- moved. ~ Every leaf of this volume, every stroke of ‘the beautifully-wntten verses, was known to her by heart, and she could even picture to herself on which side of the page this love strain or that spring song should ap- pear. Of love and spring-time she had. generally written; it is hardly possible it should be otherwise with a newlyu Wedded wife. She desired that a certain professor should see her work—she had even spoken to him concerning it. It wound- ed her deeply to entrust 'her darlings to a rough critic, and expose them to the unsparing comments they would surely receive. Yet it must be done, for she daied not rely wholly upon her own judgment. She took one glance at the leaves before doing them up in a wrapper, her cheeks burning and ears tingling.“ Oh. it is' no light matter, this sending onc’s fi1st thought-child out into the' wmld! “I send you herewith that of which I have spoken to you. I rest entirely upon your judgment,” she wrote briefly upon her visiting card. Why should she add more? A critic would not ask for comments. Then she ad-' dressed it, “Herr Professor Meywink," and drew the pages for a final peep fore putting the card inside the cover. Just then the door was opened, and Minna, the servant girl, appeared there with a market basket upon her arm. “Madame. ” said she, “I am going to the butcher' s.” “ 'Yes. certainly.” The young wife aroused herself. It costs an effort to return to the rude, working-day world at such times; but she made it cheerfully; for Frau Hein- richs was a capable housewife—no one could dispute this—and on that account Herbert hadchdsen her for h1s'wife. He was fond of practical things—the housekeeping gifts—and she had them, despite her love of scribbling. Hew- ever. that was merely by the way, while her talent, her poetiCal genius, should not be held lOnger in check, as she-knew. And it 'was merely an in- nocent recreation. It was incompre- hensible ,to her that her husband should dislike it so much. “Yes, Minna,” said Frau Heinrichs." “we will have for to-morrow ‘what re- mains of the roast meat served today. I think-we can do without meat on Friday, so we need not order a breast of veal till Saturday. I will write thus to the butcher.” This she did, saying: “You may send what I spoke to you about on Saturday, as we shall not re- quire anything before then." So absorbed was the young lady in her task of wrappipg up her poems, turning them over and over. that the card to the professomand the card to the butcher became interchanged. Finally, Minna’s display of impatience mrged Frau Heinrichs to put the cards. hastily into their envelopes. “There. Minna. this is for the pro fessor, this for the butcher,” she said. “Make no mistake. You are often ahsent-minded. This to the professor and this to the butcher.” Minna grumbled in her heart at not being considered “as responsible as other people," and trotted ofi. first to the professor’s; the learned man not being at home, she dropped his en‘ velope in the letter-box at the door. “This to the butcher,” Frau Hein- richs had said, and his address was clearly written on the envelope: but was the packet also for him? How- ever. why trouble herself about that? She had received it from her mistress. Master Krause. opening the paper. read: “I send you herewith that of which I have spoken to you. I rest entirely upon your judgment.” He sh00k his head. turned the pack- age oVer and over, and again shook his head as he looked at the meat and dis tinctiy written card. .-....._... -.4.. Alas! and she ' ' professor. “Are you sure this is for me?” he asked, wondering. “The mistress gave it to me for you.” “H’m—h’m! Astonishing! Wespoke not long ago of some waste paper; she had some she would sci; d the; can this be it?" ' Minna shrugged her shoulders. “I’m sure I don’t know." "‘It is curious, at least. Probably only a. sample,” laughed' the butcher. "I will keep it until some time .1 see your mistress. " Minna turned to go. “What no meat to- -day. ‘9" inquireo Herr Krause. .._, ---;-Q :I - q- 1.“ “Not till Saturday. Does it net 831 so on the card?” “Not a Word. ” He turned it over several times. “incomprehensible!” said the ser- vant. _“How thoughtless are thesa far-seeing ladies! All confusion—all confusion!” ' A few moments later, the butcher's lad departed from the shop to deliver a quarter of a pound of sausages wrapped up in “Spring’s First Otter- ' ings ’9 Meanwhile the professor had re- turned home. The oid gentleman also read his card with many shakes Of the head. He showed it to his Wife, to see if she could explain the matter. After long reflection she thought she understood it. “I have it!” she said. “Frau Hein- richs one day asked of me a receipt of our cook’s. She wished to havehit by Thursday, but has. probably changed the time to Saturday.” “Yes,,yes, that must be it!” said the riddle is solved! Very singular, how- ever, that she should address me? very singular!” Then he dismissed the matter from his mind. and became absorbed in his book. And now. while ’Frau 'Heinrichs dreamed. waking and sleeping, of the result of her poetical experiment, a number of the butcher’s customers were laughing over the poems written upon his wrapping paper. All unsuspecting, she one day called on the wife of Judge Rothin Brumke. “Have you heard the news?“ asked that lively lady. “MaSter Krause has a poet in his employ; . every smal' package is enveloped in paper with verses written on it. ” ' She rose, and presently brought in a greasy ”sheetof 'paper upon which «.was an “Ode to Love.” while the un- fortunate poetess. growing redder and redder with shame, thought". she should sink into the earth. At home fresh ignominy awaited her. Minna had bought some lard; on the paper wrapping was a beautiful poem which she had learned by heart: “I Dream of Thee!" What an insult! She trembled she burned with fever; scalding tears filled her eyes; she Wept for anger and shame, yet dared not call her servant to account for fear of betraying herself. The lovely poem, the rhyming of which had cost her so many headaches. so many sleepless nights, to be used to send out sausages and lard in! The thought was horrible. If Herbert learned of it how he Would laugh! Yes, he would laugh at first; but at the last might he not be angry? She did not know what he might say. She was in the wrong to do something he detested without his knowledge, and this was her pun- ishment—the righteous punishment. What reparation could she make? With gathering fears she awaited the home-coming of herphusband. What if he had already learned something of this matter? And now he came—as gay as usual? Yes. she was not mis- taken: he was to-day in particularly good spiiits. “My dear," said he. as he removed his overcoat. “I have here a very curious production.” He drew a paper from his pocket and unfolded it. His wife, looking over his shoulder. as was her custom, but with what an expression to- day, poor little tortured sculi—listened as he read with mock pathos: "You never guessed my love for you, My hidden, silent woe: W'e meet as strangers. face to face- How shall I let you know? “No inn ger can I be r this pain. " l """ This doubt, this death in life; Time’s child holds for me but the choice To die or be your wife. " “There is. indeed, sorrow wrapped up in that.” he concluded. “What think. you of such nonsense? What do you say to this fruit of bluestocking- ism? For the handwriting indicates the writer’s sex. Ugh! _what stuff it Is! ‘Woe’—‘rain’—-‘death in life'— ‘doubt’—-‘madness!’ Ha! ha! ha! The' poor author,__ after going from pub. lisher to publisher, who all shook their heads ‘compassionately, came at last to Master Krause. who out of pity gave her two pence a pound for her damaged paper. So at last the poems came to the public.” He laughed loudly, drawing his. wife to him. “Never follow such an example," he said. Then. seeing the ’tears glistening in her eyes, he asked, “What is it, dear?” “There was not a pound," she sighed. bending her head with shame upon his shouldre. “You?” be exclaimed. blighted poetess ?” And he whirled her about like a top and kissed her heart- iIS'. . . What more need he say?“ For she was cured of her rhyming propensities; of that he was sure. ——Waverly Maga- zine. Little \Villie to Mr. Spinks. Mr. Spinks—“Well, Willie, has your sister made up her mind to‘ go to the concert with me?” ‘ Willie—“Yes. She's made upher mind, and she’s makin’ up her face.. Inow. She’ll be down in a. minute." I .._....-_...-._ .-.“,‘.-Mw‘ W... “God be thanked that this. “Are you the ' THE BOOK OF GOLIJ. ' ~ . (LE LIVRE D 012.) . » GALOP. L. STREABBOG, Op. 182. GOWNS WORTH SEEING. - Fresivldeas of Fashion for-the Aft!” oi‘ Woman. (By Special Arrangement with the N. Y. Sun.) Skirts are changing considerably. both in the manner of making and in. I the dimensions. Skirts made of silk or woolen fabric are scarcely ever lined now, but if nec- essary are mounted on a foundation skirt out much the same, though not quite so full asthe outside skirt, and joined to it only at the belt. Any ma- terial that does not absolutely require a foundation is finished with a false 'hem ten or twelve inches deep and in- terlined with some stiff material. The gowns fit the hips like a riding habit. Even if they are very full they are laid in pleats from the waist to the bottom of the skirt. The thin gowns are trimmed with four spaced flounces, the top one put on with a gathered head. One of the most fashionable~ bodices now worn is the short bolero or zouave jacket, of which there are many types. One made with a tiny pleating of cream . p. c. A a! Fine.- 03 silk muslin is a delightful finish to a light silk or muslin gown. Belts and sashes are all important features of costumes. Closely folded belts as deep as a corselet are very graceful and must fit the wearer like a glove. .W hen made of silk or satin such a belt can be worn with any gown, mohair, silk or lawn. Loosely draped sashes are charming with muslin gowns on- _very slight figures or youthful wearers, and are now almost a necessity for cem- plete toilet. If only the belt or sash, collar and bows to correspond, are well chosen and made up with taste and etc. gance, the plainest dress can.be con- verted into a toilet fit for any occasion. The Point of View. In politics when a man on the other side comes over to your way of think- ing he is a “liberal-minded reformer.” When one of your persuasion goes over to the other side he is a “traitor.” When your party holds a conven- tion for nominations it is a “great man- ifestation ofthe people asserting their liberties.” When the other side nomi- nates it «is only a “distribution of plums.” W'hen a speaker on your side talks in public on the question at issue he delivers a “centre shot” or a “learned and eloquent setting forth of the great issue.” When the man on the other side has his say he gets off “rank as- sertions and stock fallacies.” A Parrot’s Bad Language. ‘\Vhat on earth do you want with a parrot. 9” “I have to have something to remind me of myhusband while he is away.” Km. Bridget—Ach‘, away wid ye, Dennis McCarty. an’ let me sleep! it’s ye, fer ,I know the feel av thim pwhi‘skers..—- New York Herald. ' .fi-Q ,4. g
Norwalk Chronicler