. was as heavy as lead,
THE PROBLEM or LIFE.
The jeWel outlives the setting.
And likewise does the hen;
The buckwheat cake of the morning
Will never rise again.
, The can outlasts the lobster.
The goat outlives the. can—
You can't be behind the procession
And still be idithe van.
You can’t keep a horse and wagon
While living in a fiat:
011 manya this year’ s caput -
Is in a last year’s hat.
A good pair of cowhide uppers
Two sets of souls will outlast;
You can’t with a comb of the present
Part the front hair of the past.
But here 5 the question that‘ puzzles my soul
And fills it with wild disaster:
Does the porous plaster outlive the hole,
Or the hole the porous plaster ?
—-uB flalo Express.
AUDERY’S RESCUE.
She looked at Ned Norroway, so
straight and tall and 'handsome, and
realized for the first time just how she
felt toward the young man. ‘ H
“Good-by, Audrey,” he said. 55:15.“
'Audrey gave him her hand. ' " '
~—“Good by” she said. “And you
came the whole way across just to
see me again! Thank you.”
“I couldn’t have gone without good-
by, Aud1ey,” said Ned. “Yesterday
. and last night, with all the strangers
about at the picnic, gave me no
chance. Will you think of me now
and then?”
, “We shall think and talk about you
a great deal.”
They sat down under the grape-
vine.
“I have great hopes of this journey,”
said Ned. Uncle Edward promises
by-and- b-y to take me into partner.
ship. He’s very wealthy and a bach-
elor; a very nice old fellow, Audrey.
You’d like him. "
“Should I?”
if Audrey thought she would like no
one evermuch who had tempted Ned
away from Bloomfield’s slopes.
“And I’m to board with him,” said‘
Ned, “and we shall get on splendidly,
I’ve no doubt; and when I‘m junior
partner—’
Just then a whistle sounded.
“You must go, Ned. ”
He caught up his portmanteau.
“I shall have to run for it,” he said.
“Good- by,,Audrey. ”
A vague disappointment thrilled the
girl; she had thought so much. and he
had said so little. Just then he leaned
toward her.
“One kiss at parting,” he said.
Audrey drew back. She was no
prude: she would have given her lips
to any fiiend leaving her without a
thought of wrong; but she could not
' even let the man she loved kiss her;
who knew but it might be a betraying
ordeal? Everything or nothing for
Ned Norroway, and he had never ut-
tered one word of love to her.
“Good- by, ”’ she said.
She gave him her hand. he took it
and went. a little dashed, and just a
little wounded.
\‘Vhen Mrs. Drew came home she
wondered what madeAudrey’s eyes so
red.
Oh. women’s lives! How they glide
on, for the most part tangled in the
mesh of trifles! There was the parlor
to dust, ruffles to flute and a cake to
bake; a blue bow to be made to wear
with a white dress; handkerchiefs to
hem; afternoons to be spent at friends’
houses; friends to entertain. at home;
'important nothings to be done from
dawn until dusk; but through it all one
thought ran—a thought born of a
maiden’ s first love, as pure and tender
as any ever sung by poet, though she
was but a plainly reared country girl
and he a nobody with a thoughtful
heart gone out to seek his fortune.
. The time of roses passed away, and
grape time came.
Somebody—it was Tom Pepper—had
a letter from Ned, who Was very well
pleased with New’York.
“He’s been to see everything,” said
Tom with a laugh. “Wait; it’s quite
what I call a historical kind of a let-
ter. dreadful interestin’; want to read
it?”
“Yes” said Audrey.
Tom gave her the letter. It was a,
sewing circle at Mrs. Dove’s, and in a
minute more Audrey slipped up into
Mrs. Dove’s bedroom. and read the let-
ter. Just such a bright account of
himself and what he saw as any in-
telligent man could have written; but
to Audrey it was a miracle of genius,
' and. above all. he wrote it. It brought
to her a vision of himself. Under the
shade of Mrs. Dove’s chintz window
curtains Audrey kissed" the letter as
mothers kiss their babies. Then she
came back to the parlor with a calm
face.
“Smart. ain’t it?” asked Tom.
“What?” said Audrey. “Oh— —yes——-
the letter; very nice.’
She would have given all the money
the had in bank—earned by making
out cheeses for the market—could she
but have that letter for her very own.
Watching and waiting wears one
thin. Audrey was not quite as pretty
as she had been, if bloom and bright-
ness make all beauty, as most'folk
think they do, and she was conscious
of this, and aware also that her new
best dress was of an unbecoming color,
when, at Christmastide, it was known
through the village that Ned had
come down to spend the holidays.
They met at church, and the rest of
Christmas Day Ned went with his old _
employer’s family, while Audrey lost
her appetite, and wished she had never
been born. There was Nathan Prior,
to be sure, doing his best to please her,
and her cousin Jack from Hampton
trying to cut him out; but her heart
every smile
forced, and every word wrung from
her lips. . h,
"The next day Ned called. At the
announcement her ' heart fluttered;
then she ran to the glass. How ugly
she-looked! She went down to greet
him, full of this thought, gave him a‘.
igid and impassive hand, and sat
, bolt upright on the remotest chair.
.. "EM
1‘1
T151111 11v .143 N 1NG
TGAZErTE~
“You’ re not well, Audrey?” 'said
Ned, injudiciously. . ’
“Thank you, Mr. Norroway; I am
quite well, ” replied Audrey. ‘
Iicd bit his lip.
"‘l'!easant weatl .er fer the season,”
he ventured.
“Yes,” said Audrey, .
pleasant Christmas Day! Nathan
Prior spent it with us, and Cousin
lack. They are full of- fun, and I en-
joyed myself very much.’5
"I’m glad tohear it,” said Ned.
Then in came Mrs. Drew, and
Audrey lapsed into silence.
Ned took his departure. Next even-
ing they met at a little party, and
Audrey, longing for Ned’s presence as .
beggars never longed for bread, turned
her back on him and coquetted with
Na than Prior.
Ned saw Ruth Hallow home, and
Nathan escorted the ' wretched Audrey.
And then Ned was gone. The, city
swallowed him again. Folks heard
that he was getting on. In August
came his friend, old General Sprague,
to enliven the village with his com-
pany
General Sprague called one evening
on the Diews, and in ten minutes
diopped a bomb-shell at Audrey’s feet.
“There’s Ned Norroway gone and
got married. Went to his wedding a
week ago. There’s the paper, Miss
Audrey—gals like to read about wed-
dings—makes them think of their own
—he! he! he!”
“Du tell!”
married!”
“I don’t see why anyone should be
surprised, mother, ” said Audrey. “It’s
the natuial fate of young men.’
“So it is,” said the general. “I mean
to try it myself some day.”
Audrey took the paper to her room
and 1ead the notice:
“On the figt of August, Mr. Edward
Norroway t Helen, youngest daugh<
ter of Howard Hotspur, Esquire.”
Therein, so she believed, lay her
world’s end.
“Mother,” said Audrey, a week after
this, “you know Miss Rose always has
wanted me to come to her and learn
millinery. I’d like to go now.’
“The1e aict: any need of your pa’s
daughter learning a trade’
“But I could make our bonnets and
save a lot. "
So the girl had her way. She only
cried Mrs. Drew. “Ned
wanted to let her heart break away .
IThe farce '
from tender, watchful eyes.
of cheerfulness could be played no
longer.
In a fortnight Audrey went to New
York to learn to make bonnets. She
wrote letters home to the efiect that
she was very happy; but she stitched
indefatigably, thought and wept by
stealth, grew pale and coughed. In
fact, nonsense as you may think it,
Audrey was dying of a broken heart.
It was October, and the twilights
were warm and golden at home, the
foliage gorgeous in its bright decay.
In the city the few trees were sore and
sombre, and all the gorgeousness was
in the shop windows.
About five o’clock one day, when
Audrey, who had been to Brooklyn,
came down toward the ferryboat
thinking hard upon a subject which
had tormented her for a long time—-
Ned Norroway's photograph. She had
it still, and he was another woman’s
property. She was doing wrong; she
must destroy it. Why not toss it into
the river? Her hand was on the
chain—she took a step forward.
“Du tell!” cried Mrs. Dew.
“Let me take your shopping
just then said a voice she knew.
She turned her eyes that way. There
stood three persons—Ned Norroway, a
young lady to whom he had spoken,
and an elderly gentleman. Audrey
dared not meet them. She turned
toward the boat, not heeding her steps
—not noticing that the boat had left
her moorings.
“Stop!” cried a dozen voices. —
But the girl had gone too far to stop.
In a second more the waters had en-
“Ned
bag,”
' gulfed her.
“Don’t go, Ned,” cried a sweet young
voice. and two hands clutched his arm.
“Let me alone!” cried the young man
fiercely, shaking the fingers away with
a jerk.
Now there were two figures in the
dark water instead of one, and Ned’s
voice cried .in Audrey’s ear: '
“Be calm. ,Don’t cling to me, and I
will save you.” '
She was quite insensible, and Ned,
dripping himself, carried her into a
house hard by and gave her over to the
good-natured Irish landlady, who soon
had her warmand conscious of this
world again. _‘ ‘
“She’s quite herself, sir,” said the
woman, coming out to Ned, “and will
see you in a minute. I’ve just brought
her jewelry and things to you. I can’t
watch every wan goin’ in an’ out of
the house.”
Ned took the glittering handful—a
pin, a little silver po'rtmonnaie, and a
chain with a framed picture attached.
In a moment more he gave a cry. How
she came by it he could not guess, but
theIface he saw through the blurred
wet glass was his own.
.Half an hour afterward he was
kneeling beside Audrey, who reclined
in a great arm-chair in the landlady’s
best room.
“Thank God, you are safe, Audrey!”
he said. “Life would have been
worthless without you, my little dar—V
ling.”
At these words, weak as she was
Audrey started to her feet.
“How dare you!" she said.
but that does not warrant you in
speaking so. What have I done to
lead you to insult me?”
“To insult you, Audrey? God for-
bid that’I should ever do that!” ‘
“Words that a single man may
‘speak without, vexing a girl are in- ‘
salts from a married man. iYour
\vifei-" I. z‘ ‘
“My Why?” . . ~ ”FTCESEMT“
1 1'.‘
I.l.'-Jnv!‘.I"
- .4“-.. . '. -.
fl
---'—,‘
.p...
“and such ‘a .
I “You
have risked your life for .me, I know,
--\
"Your wife would—”~
,. “Stop, Audrey. Answer me. Whai
"v ,
do you mean by my wife? I am no: .I’ .
married. ”
"Not married! We saw the notice ll.
the‘ ‘ papers-Edward Norroway 1.
Helen Hotspur. I read.it myself, and.
I1 saw her with you on the dock.”-
¥‘Edward Norroway is married to
Miss Hotspur,” said Ned, “and 3701-
saw her on the deck; but it is 1111
uncle who has a wife, and the lady .
you noticed is my aunt by marriage.
She never would haVe given her hand
to so poor a man as the Ned ~Norrova 1' ‘
you know.”
“0h. Ne (11”
“So I meant no insult by calling you
my darling, and you don’t feel angry
with me,'do you, Audrey?” ‘
“No 7’
“And I may call you so 11g 11in?”
She was silent. so he took a kiss
'without asking for it.
“Yes,” said Mrs. Dreu, a week after-
ward, to a gossip who wanted to know
all about it, “Ned and Audrey are eu-
gaged. ”
Mis. Drew kept her girl’s secret in
true motherly fashion, and never told
how, bursting into the farmhouse all
aglow with roses and dimples, Audrey
had begun her confession by saying:
“Mother. it wasn’t our Ned who was
married, after all, but his uncle.”
“Why, who ever thought it was? I
knew who the general meant,” said
Mrs. Drew. _ .
“Did you?” cried Audrey, in sur-
prise. “I didn’t until a weekngo. Oh,
mother, I’ve been so wretched, and I
am so happy now!”
And then she told the other woman
all her story.
WORK STILL F0’R~ THE EXPLORER.
A11 Area Equal to One-fifth the Globe's '
Land is Yet Unknown.
With an unexplored area equal to
one-fifth of all the known land on this
globe it can scarcely be claimed that
the work of the explorer is finished.
Even in America—North and South-—
there are two millions of square miles
of which we know absolutely nothing.
In Australia there is an equal tract
of unexplored territory. In Africa there
are over six millions of square miles
of unknown land to attract the adven-
turous traveler, and in the polar re,
gions there remain between nine and
' ten millions still unmapped.
Surrounding the Southern axis of the
" earth, we are warranted in drawing
. the coast line of a vast unknown con-
tinent, covering the greater part of the
territory lying within the Antarctic
circle. Such lands as are now charted
have been sighted at a great distance,
and the mapping is greatly in need of
authentification. No one. or at least
no one in modern times, has passed a
whole year in the Antarctic, and such
observations as have been made have
been confined to the short summer
months.
So little is known of this vast tcr’ri-
tory that speculation suggests that this
unknown, and, in many places, un-
approachable, land may prove to be :1 I
continent, which, with the outlying isl-
ands, covers a region of eight million
square miles, an area equal to one-
sixth of the entire land surface of the
globe—a continent as large as North‘
America
Though the coast line of Australia is
pretty well known, and has been since
1843, there is a great unexplored inter.
let that has, so far, baffled all attempt
to cross it laterally. From south . to
north it has been traversed, though the
trip was only made at the cost of great
suffering.
He Got Square.
We are all more or less familiar with
that exasperating class of individuals
who seem to feel that the entire com-
mon sense of the world is centered in
themselves, and that the rest of us are
in needIof guidance and direction in * .
thesimplest duties of life.
Mr. B——- was a young man of this
kind. He was always painfully pro~
fuse in details regarding anything ‘he
wished done. He 'had a parrot, of
which he was excessively fond, and
When he was about to go abroad for a
few months, leaving his bird behind.
him, the bored and exasperated his
family and friends with senseless deé' .
tails regarding the care of the parrot} '
and his last words, screeched from
'the deck of the steamer that bore him
aWay. were:
“Hi. Jim!” .
“What?” shouted the brother on the
pier.
“Look out for my parrot!” came
faintly over the water.
- As if this was not enough, he had no
sooner reached Liverpool than he sent
the following Cablegram to his brother,
who had assumed charge of the parrot:
“Be sure and feed my parrot” .
On receipt of this the infuriated
brother cabled back:
“I have fed her, but she is’hungry
again. What shall I do next?”
A ()uar ter Missing.
Biidget is an excellent cook; but like
most wenien of her profession, she is
opinionated and insists upon making
all her dishes strictly according to her
own recipes.
Her mistress gives her full swing,
not only as to cooking, but as to the
purchase of supplies.
The other day her mistress said 10.
her: .
“Budget, the coffee you are giving
us isvery good. What kind is it?”
“It’s no koind at all, mum,” said
Bridget; “it’s a mixter.” -
“How do you mix it?”
.“I make it» one-quarter mocha, and
one-quarter Java, . and one-quarter
Bio.” , . , ,
“But that’s only three-quarters.
What doyou do for the other,quarter.?”
“I put in no other quarter at all,
111nm. That’s ‘-where so many spoile's
the coffee, mum—by putting in a foorth
:uarter.” ' .
. ties in winning the man of her choice __
In a. certain country of the Lone Stai
~ ,ers. The majority of them were well
' [LEAP YEARS '96.
IATexas Belle “Uri: Took Hear t, and won
thcl 1111121 She wanted;
To the knowing girl there are more~
ways than One of availing oneself oi
the maiden’s leap year privilege. A
{story comes from rural Texas ~illustra...
tive ‘of thistfiith‘ ‘and shoWing how a
courageous girl may overcome difdcul
State there lives a very charming girl,
who, bez' ng yet in the heyday of km :
youth and withal rich' 1n her own right,
has always had a long ’0 am of admir—
ed as to world’s goods, but Cupid had
1n his usual mischievous style so ar.‘
ranged matters that none of them found ,
favor in the girl’s sight. The only man
among them all that had the power to
set her heart fluttering and to whom
her fancy had paid tribute even When
he was' absent never pressed his suit.
He belongs to that innumerable army
of poor but honest, and’ his pride with-
held the words that the Texas belle
was so anxious to hear.
The other day she went to him in‘ the
most bewitching costume and a smile
that exactly matched. She told him
with blushing candor that he was cld
enough and sensible enough to be get-
ting married. She had a young lady in
mind that would make him a capital
wife, and if authorized by him she
would volunteer to carry on negotia-
tions. This made the young man mad
and took him entirely out of himself.
Heserved notice in very icy terms that
he did not require the services of any-
one in conducting his afifairs of the
heart, and it was particularly exas-
perating to have‘the only woman he
ever did love or could love come to in-
tercede for someone else.
Now, this was exactly what the sen-
sible girl knew, and accordingly she
had laid a trap for the man of her
choice. Her calculations had been ac-
curately made, and when the poor but
proud lover had been betrayed into the
declaration of his» passion she blushed
more furiously than before and stam-
meringly insinuated that perhaps if he
had disclosed his feelings earlier she
might have been saved the performance
of a very embarrassing task.. The
young man, finding the ground slipping
from under him, grasped at the nearest
protection, which was, of course, the
girl- She did not object strenuously,
and arrangements are now being com-
pleted for a wedding, which for gayety
and general happiness shall cast into
'the shade everything hitherto seen in
that section.
Senator Pefi‘er’s Love for Children.
Senator Peder doesn’t play cards,
drink, smoke' or chew, and he isn’t
given to society frivolities of any kind,
though a more genial and courteous
host never Welcomed stacks of friends,
and one wonders what weakness he has.
It is children! Yes, children and ani‘
mals. He loves really girly girls of
the natural kind, and manly boys, old
or young. He likes to watch the chil-
dren in their plays on the street, and
isn’ta bit averse to taking a hand at
marbles or suggesting that the tail of a
kite is too light or too heavy. Cats in-
stinctively rub up against him, recog-
nizing a friend, and dogs are his de
voted admirers—Washington Star.
Made and Merit Maintains the confidence
of the people in Hood’s Sarsaparilla. If a
medicine cures you when sick; if it makes
won derful cures everywhere,then beyond
all question that medicinepossesses merit.
That is just the truth about Hood’s Sar-
saparilla. We know it possesses merit
because it cures, not once or twice or a
hundred times, but in thousands and
thOusands of cases We know it cures,
absolutely, permanently, when all others
fail to do any good whatever. We ’repeat
s’arsaparma
Is the best —in fact the One True Blood Purifier.
H 00d ’5 Pills cure nausea, indigestion,
001.10 .
GRAMPS, .
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And all BOWel Troubles
Promptly relieved with ..
HALE’S
SAFE 11011111.
Large Bottle 25 cents. ‘-
A t all Druggist.
‘IMVE ARRIVED.
My newline of 5 ring and
Summer suit Ings, Which
will be made up 1n the latest ‘
ossible
styles and at the lowest
work.
. price consistent with goo
‘5' Call' in and inspect them.
F. KOCOUR
MERCHANT TAILOR,
I? North Main-St. South Norwalh
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of the radiator to the fire-pot has been a matter , ,
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manufacturers place a large radiatOr on a small
fire-pot. The custOmer believes that he 15 getting
a large furnace for a little money, whoreas he will '
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The reason is simple: the gas and pro-
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the greater part of the radiation IS useless.
Bay State Furnaces all have a fire-pot which is
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sult your local dealer.
BARSTOW STOVE C0.
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STANDARD OF THE WORLD.
Nineteen years "of I:
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Columbia. quality—on: Columbia priced- ’
tation Tor building the best bic clc, backed '
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Beautifiil Art Catalogue of Columbia and Hartford Bicyolci is free if you call upon»,
Columbia Agent; by rail! from, us for two men: stamps.
POPE; MFG CO., Hartford, Conn.
Bmch Stores. and Agencies in almost every “3“
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........
Norwalk Chronicler