THINOS YET TO BE. Pome ny this worlil Is an old, old world, Hnt It's always been now to me t Wli h lt boundless range ol ccosolesi change, nd hope of t hlnirs to be. A nw friend takes my nan 1 When the old ones pass away The old days die, but tho light In the sky Is the dnwn ot anothor day. Borne sny this world la a cold, cold world, Hut ll ' nlwnys been bright to me t With Its hearthstone fti"s nnd warm desire For the things that are yet to be. And If I must Inhor, I wilt. And trust to the nlds I have sown , For I know thore It truth In tho promise ot youth i I will some time torn to my own. Borne say this world Is a sad, sad world, Vat It's always been glad to me i For the brook never laughs like my soul when It qnsffj And feasts on the thlnirs to be. The nlRht comes on with Its rest The morning comes on with Its song The hours of grief aro few nnd brief, Hut Joy Is a whole life long. Borne say this world Is a bad, bad world, Dut It's always been good to me ; With Its errors thore live dear hearts that forgive, And hope for the things to be. This world Is not old or cold This world Is not sad or bad If yon look to the right, forgetllngthe night, And say to your soul "De glad." Alfred Ellison, In Chicago Record. THE OTHER GIRL. BV HELEN FOBHE8T OltAVES. LliTTER from her lover Ccried Grace Bnrney. "Why, I do think sho ought to be the happiest girl in the world. I only wish I had a lover to got letter from." ".She don't seem ft bit happy," aid little Ernestine Van, in An aornrl wmsper. "un, dear, how I should like tu read a real lover' letter !" And all the time Lesbia Fiold Bat quite ailent, hor eyes fixed onvacanoy, nd n troubled ourve to her lip. The three girl were guest of Mr. Delacroix, an elegant elderly lady, who liked to surround herself with the society of atfcactive yonng peoplo, eeing that she had no daughters and nieces of her own. She had met Lesbia Fiold, one sum mer, in a lonoly place in the woods, nd had peroeived her cap abilities at once. "That girl," said Mrs. Dolaeroix "has it In her to make a suooeas in so cioty. The idea of her wasting her weetness in a plaoe like this I" And she boldly asked Aunt Zilpah Tield to "lend" LoBbia to hor, for eason. "She hain't got no clothe," said the old woman, dubiously, adjusting her speotaole on the bridge of her nose. "That is, flt for the city. To-be-sure, she's got ft little school . teachin' money laid up, and I conld lend her fifty dollars out of the bank" "Oh, I'll see to oil that!" said Mrs. Delacroix, joyfully. Of course Lesbia was fasoinated by the charming oity lady, and allowed herself to be carried off without the leant protestation. And, in the gen eral novelty and confusion of things, she never said ft word bout her en gagement to Thomas Tarbox. Thomas was a hard working sohool master in an adjoining country dis trict, and Lesbia had thought it sjreat pieoe of good fortune when he uiked her to be his wife. They had planned a simple oountry tome and lifetime of quiet happi ness together, and Mr. Tarbox was rather surprised when he heard of Lesbia' abrupt departure. Nor did the letter she afterward sent him quite explain the puzzle. "Lesbia is young," he told himself. "She will enjoy brief glimpse of the oity." "Thomas will never understand!" was Lesbia' impatient thought. . Mrs. Delaoroix bad borrowed Les "bia for only a few weeks at first, but year went by. Aunt Zilpah paid the debt ot nature, and still Miss Field remained with Mrs. Delacroix. "I couldn't spare her, any way iu the world," said the fashionable lady. 4 'doe writes my notes, prepare my menus and reads to me iu that sweet oioe of hers. My cousin, Grace Bur ney, is very well, and dear little Er nestine, my husband's rolative, is ft gem; but LeBbia suits me exactly." Yes, it was a letter from Thomas Tarbox, He had an opportunity to ome to New York, he wrote. He -wauted to burrow among the treasures -of the Astor Library for some data for an article he was preparing on "'Ancient Coin and Their Signifi cance," and be looked forward with .pleasure to-the chance of- seeing Les bia at last. , "How delightful!" said Mrs. Dela croix. "Of course, you're enrap tured, dear I" Lesbia looked np with ft sudden tart a conventional smile. Was she enraptured ? And in the samo moment ft guilty pang pierced hor heart. She felt like n arch-traitress. "Ask him to oome here," said Mrs. Delaoroix. "There's the little room over the breakfast parlor just the very thing for a bachelor's dun." "Oh, thanks, it's very kind of you I" aid Lesbia, feeling her color come and go. "But, I I don't thiuk he'd like it here aa well us m. nn inter niaiui. He's rather sby and and uuaoous tomedto society." "Ah!" said Mrr, Delaoroix. But she looked somewhat curiously t Lesbia' burning check. . s Little Ernestine crept closer to her. "Is it very nice to receive ft letter from your lover?" whispered she. "Oh, if I could only have ft peep at it!" "Monsonse!" said Losbis, sharply. But when she was in her own room the tears gushed to her eyes. Was she really ashamed of honest Thomas Tarbox? and was it very wrong of her? Why had sho doclinod for him Mrs. Delacroix's invitation to her ball the next week? Of course, he was a very worthy young man, but she shuddered as she thought ot tho clothes ho would probably wear of his country-cut hair among Mrs. Delacroix's guests. Was she ashamod of him? Grace Bnrney was chatting merrily with Miss Staats-Burgoyne when Les bia came down to the dinner-table that evening. "The handsomest man I ever saw I" said she. "Don't you think so, Sophy?" "Ob, handsome yos!" said Miss Staats-Burgoyuo, who was ft great heiress and a little niooe of Mr. Staat Von Staatsburg on one side and sole daughter of the Burgoynes on the other. "But it isn't his face altogeth er so much as his elegant manners." "Do invite me to the dinner," pleaded Grace. "I must meet him again." "There's not ft vacant seat for the dinner," said Miss Staats-Bnrgoyne. "The list is full. But you're down for the ball afterwards, dear." "Oh, you darling!" chirped Grace. "And Lesbia, too?" "Certainly and Mrs. Dolacroix to chaperone you," smiled the heiress, graciously. "Oh, I wish I was old enough to go into sooiety !" said Ernestine, despair ingly. "But," added Miss Staats-Bnrgoyne, "there's no nse. I moan to fascinate him." Grace tossed her head one of the Tennysonian heads, "brimming over with carls" like veritable sheet of sunshine. "I flatter myself I've dono some thing in that way myself," said she. "Only give me chanoe, and I'll do more !" "Girls, who is that you are talking about?" said Mrs. Delaoroix. "It's Mr. Evelyn, the Eastern trav eler," said Grace. "He's to be at the Staats-Bnrgoyne dinner ball. "Oh, aunty, can' you get him to come here?" Mrs. Delacroix shook her head. "It isn't possible," said she. "His stay is to be so short, and he is so run after !" "Bat, aunty, when he knows I am your guest!" pleaded Grace. "Be cause I met him last spring at Tuxedo Park. He w.s visiting the arohoeolo gist, Doctor Desson, yon know, and we got to be good friends." "To-be-Bure!" observed Miss Staats Bnrgoyne. "He's betrothed to some other woman a boy and a girl en gagement, I'm told." "Fie for shame!" laughed Mrs. De lacroix. "Flirting with another girl's property !" "All is fair," composedly spoke Miss Staats-Burgoyne, "in love and war. " "The other girl must take care of herself," said Grace. "I mean to be Mrs. Evelyn. Why, aunty, dear, every girl in sooiety is wild after Mr. Eve lyn!'! "Dinner is served!" pompously poke the English butler, opening the satin portieros of the dining-room. Lesbia Field had taken no note of the gay conversation transpiring around her. She was still thinking in, a perplexed way ot the letter she had that morning received. How should she reply to it? In what words should she make poor Thomas Tarbox understand that all her views of life had ohanged sinoeshe was distriot sohool teaoher in Saoon da County? A sense of strange, sad guilt some how overhung her. It seemed almost a if Thomas Tarbox were dying and being buried. "Was it right?" she kept asking herself. "Was it right?" And all at once common sense an swered "No." "I won't be so mean," thought Les bia, with ft little catching of the breath. "I'll telegraph to him and tell him to come right here, and then then he will see how utterly impos sible it is for me to keep my engage ment. He was always a sensible young man, and oh, I beg your pardon, Graoe ! Yon were speaking to me?" "Speaking to you? Of oourse I was," laughed Miss Burney, of the sunny curls. "What sort of brown study have you fallen into with such a woe-begone face, too?" "Wo're only telling of his possible case, " explained Miss Staats-Burgoy ne, slowly sipping a pineapple ioe "ol Grace Uuruey stealing this elegant Eastern Apollo from his down-east fiancee. She declares she 11 do it. And wouldn't it be nice to steal an other woman's lover ?" "Are they already engaged?" list lessly asked Lesbia. "Oh, yes, hard and fast!" Lesbia shrugged one ivory-white shoulder. "It's the other girl's business to take care of herself," murmured she. "Oh, yes! sooiety is all a battle, where every one's bound to shift for himself. It's all give and take." And in her heart she thought ol Thomas Tarbox, and wished she was in some dark, peaceful corner, where she could ory by herself, for this slow, torturing death of the old love was so hard so hard I But presently she resolved to put it all out of her head. "If I'm goiug to the Staats-Burgoyne ball," she told herself, "I must have all my wit about me. It's great promotion to be asked to such a func tion me, poor little Lesbia Field I" A smile dimpled her lip as the sud- - den fancy crosod her mind of the lit tle school ma'am of Kaconda listening to Thomas Tarbox' prosaio suit. Could it be possible that she was the same girl? And she didn't write the letter,. after all. Mrs. Delacroix had ordered two ex quisite frock for Lesbia and Grace. "My girls must look an well as any one at this grando affaire I" said she. "Who know but that they will meet thoir destinies?" The Ktaats-Bnrgoyno mansion was a blaze of silver-tongued electrio lights, a crush of flowers, ft dream of Parisian toilettes, and in their midst Mrs. Delacroix felt ft proud consciousness thnt Lesbia, in her ivory-white satin and rich old lace, sot off by the De lacroix pearls, looked like white rosebud, newly opened. She pulled at her hostess' sleeve. "Dear Mrs. Staats-Burgoyne," she whispered, "is that the Eastern trav eler the tall man with the straight Greek profile and thetoweringheight? Pray introduce him to Lesbia. I do so v, ant the dear girls to meet him." Mrs. Staats-Burgoyne smiled grac iously. "Miss Field," said sho, "allow me to present to yon Mr. Evelyn." Lesbia turned with ft little start from a group of lair maidens with whom she was talking. The Eastern traveler bowed low, but Lesbia stood as if she were rooted to the ground. "Miss Field does not remember that we are old friend?," said Mr. Evelyn, with a certain well-bred composure. "I would have come to yon at once, Miss Field, but you forbade me. I am now awaiting your summons." "It is never Thomas Tarbox!" stammered Lesbia, her heart beating as if it would burst through its prison of satin and pearls. "They call me Tom Evelyn now," said the elegant stranger, smiling cu riously. "It was the condition on which I inherited the fortune that has enabled me to travel. I would have written you all about it, Lesbia, if yon had condescended to answer my last letter. Will yon favor me with the third waltz? And then perhaps we shall be able to talk a little more comprehensively." He turned with consummate ease to greet ft new orowd of strangers, all eager to be introduced to the lion of the evening. Lesbia gazed at him with a deli cious pride ofpossession ; and yet, was he still hers? "Lesbia!" cried Grace Bnrney. "Yon little arch deceiver, you have played us all false ! You are 'the other girl ! " Then, for the first time in her He, sensation of mad jealousy gripped at her heart. Was it the old love flaming np from its half distinct ashes? or was it newer light, born of that blissful mo ment? She replied to Grace's audacious speech only by a look. Sophy Staats-Burgoyne recoiled. "Hush, Grace I" said she. "She's really angry. It's a case of 'hands off.' The other girl is not to be trifled with." Until the longed-for waltz osme, Lesbia Field was wretched. She looked piteously up into Mr. Evelyn's face as he offered her his arm. "So I have changed?" said he, half rmiling. "Ob, Thomas!" "And if you're not ashamed of me-" "Please don't, Thoma!" "My darling, pardon me," mur mured he. "You are prettier than ever, and I am more in love with you than I was before. Still, it you de sire to be released from our engage ment " "Oh, Thomas, no!" "You are pale. Does this whirling step make you giddy? Then we will sit out a little while." When they returned from the cool shadows of Mrs. Staats-Burgoyue's or chid house, Lesbia took the Eastern traveler straight to Mrs. Delacroix. "Lesbia," cried the old lady, "why didn't you tell m?" "Because," whispered Lesbia, "I didn't know." Sophy and Grace exchanged mis chievous glances. "The other girl is first in the in nings," said they. But little Ernestine rejoioed in spirit. "I am to carry the basket of roses," said she, "and scatter flowers on the bride's pathway. Ob, what beauti ful thing a wedding is!" Saturday Night The Seal's Strong Sense ot Smell. "Among tb.9 many singular traits of charaoter possessed by seals," said Ol iver L. Mason, a retired sea captain. "none are more striking than the de votion of the male to it offspring, contrasted with the apathetic atten tion paid by the mother. The latter will at the least alarm bolt away into the sea aud leave her babies behind her, but the bulls mount guard over the swarming herds of young and nothing can exoeed their devotion and courage when oalled upon as protect ors. The sense of smell possessed by the seals is very strong aud will in variably wake them out of sound , even if you oome upon them ever so quietly to the windward, and you will alarm them in this way muob more thoroughly, though you be a half mile dUtaut, thau if you came up oarelessly ironi tue leeward and even walked in among them, they seeming to foel that you are not different from one ot their owu speoies until they smell you. The chief attraotiou in these animals is their large, handsome eyes, which indicate great iutelli genoe. They are a deep bluish black, with soft glistening appearauoe, and the pupil, like the oat's, is capable ol great dilation and coutracUoa. Si, Louis Ulobe-jJenioorat. A HULL FIGHT. now tiik iJitvTr. uponr is I'ONDIXVKI) IN SPAIN. Three Klmls of Hum-Duties of the Slcn Who Mailt the Unites Knlslnir Hulls for ' the Ulna. WHATEVER tho morality of the thins mnv le, nothing is more stirring and im posing than the first part of hn extensive bull tight, Thero is the ceremonious entrance to the blare of trumpets, the procession of historio costumes, crimson, pnle blue, white nnd canary, pea green, silver, white nnd )ink, scarlet, black, dark blue nnd white nnd over nil the brilliant sunlight nnd tho enthusiasm of an auilienco blnziiur with excitement. The ring nt Turra-joiia bin Keats for 17,00,) people more than tho entire population of t!:'", !:'.t'e. city on tho 2!::ilitcrni:c:.'J, -..iit.: a New York Bo iu. t correspondent, nnd yet tho rests nienfbn lull, for tho country people flock in, on Tcrt, oa donkeys, nuMK, horses nbl Tu bullock-cart. When the great band strikes np tho etiirinj maicli, xxben the thonsan.ls on the beaches begin to move them selves uneasily nnd scream down greet ings to their favorite fUhters, when the long roccsMon glitter in the riu?, you have a scene before you not to be furg.-.tten. Tho central idea of a Im'.l fight is to show the courage ami dexterity of men. it is acknowledged that the bull is uiore than a man's mnteh the bull with his strength, ferocity aud sharp horns tho mau arme.'. only with a slender sword. Thu mill inunt kill the bull with but a siule stroke ; ttiis stroke must be delivered iu a special spot, behind the shoulder, and to give this stroke the man must face the buil. AH this is ilelicMte and danger ous -witness tbe lamentable death ot the young and haiiiisome Espartero, killed iu the ring at Midrid by a bull BANDEIUt.LEItO STEPriNO of no great courage, cunning or force of character. When I speak of a bull's moral qualities, it is no idle word. Bulls are of three kinds, and whenever ft new bull jumps iuto the ring the people know by his first movements just what kind of ft bull he is. Bulls nre levautados, parados and aplomsdos just as men are heedless, indolent and well balanced. The levantado, the giddy or thought less bull, rushes immediately, with a high head, across the ring. He makes in turn for every side, he leaps and dashes, often comioally. Then he charges on the horses and the men who ride them. He is an easy bull to kill. His adversary knows how ho will act he is ft bull sn-ho jumps directly at the last thing taking his attention. The parado, or lazy bull, comes on in ft little trot, then stops, wheels round and returns to the gate whenoe he emerged. But it is necessary to distrust a lazy bull. Sometimes he becomes irritated in the very midst of his laziness, and then he is a terrible opponent. There is no couuting with bim then, rim character Is ouanged. The aplomado, or level-beaded bull, however, is the most dangerous ot all. Nothing is more splendid than his en trance to the ring. - He stands before the publio with his kel thrown np, without excitement. His air is so ma- jestio that the people shout. Ho scaroely notices the enemies, but seems to JooU eutirely at the audienoe, as if to ask their admiration. Thou pouuding on the ground with his fore feet, he rushes surely at the spears man mounted on his shaky and-bliuJ-folded horse. Throughout the fight he takes care not to tire himself, but shows an intelligence aud decision that amount to generalship. It is not strange be should the epanislt fight ing bull is not a common bull. The music has ceased playing, and the fight commences.! The bull is in BULLS. IX TIIS STALLS. the ring nnd he is being teased by men tt-itlt ..ml fl.tillfa t-lii..ll ,lw.. ftntltlf l.n. fore him. Ho is a slender animal, with small tiiti't quarters, hut witn a tremen- E.?ADA nECEIVttrt ArrtiAtTsm. dons neck and shoulders. He is rather small than large. His horns are straight aud sharp, nnd be is quite quick and tricky. Thoy flaunt their cloaks before his face, esoape by a mere inch ; they jump the fenoa. But for the hore there is no escape. The horses are poor creatures, ready for th.i shambles. They would be killed anyway, for they are useless nnd de crepit. The reason for the introduc tion of the horses is (I) to show the vigor of tho bull, who tosses them with wicked strength; (2) it is to tire the bull a little, in order that a single handed man may face him ; (3) it is to give the bull n smell ot blood, that beiivr naturally what he himself is fighting for; and (1) it must be said it is to stivo the people themselves a smell of liloo.l. 1 hey like the blond ! lue flJlitert who have waved the cloaks are toreadors; the men who ride the horses nre the picadors, and those ASIDE fROM TUB BI LL. who come in after three or four or seven horse have been killed are ban derilleros. The coming of each set of men is like ft new act in tragedy. And their coining and their going are marked by long flourishes of trumpets. iach of the banderilleros holds two beribboned darts, which he must stick in the bull's neck. It is a matter of great skill and danger. I saw a ban derillero ruined for lite at Madrid in the spring ot 18i)2. The reasou why they priolc the bull with those steel darts is to make him ferocious after he is tired. It is a trying thing to watch tho daring and the danger o! the ban dorilleros. The bull ooines with a rush upon the nimblo fellows, who evade him by a hair a breadth. Each evasion aud each trick of their bravado has its name, and is applauded by tho thou Bauds on the benches. The trumpets blow again and the drum rolls. It is the entrance of the matador the "toreador," as he in in correctly called in "Carmen." He is the high prolesBioual who holds the sword. So he is called "exptula." swordsman, which is the name bo pre fers. After the Paris Imposition of 1889 wheu they (the Duke ot Veragaa and others) were trying to maintain a permanent bull ring in the City of Light, there was an outcry in tho papers, saying that such truulty was not in the trench character. J. be Courrier Frauoais brought out a cur- toon by Willette, which, being circu lated throughout Spain by humane Spaniards with a missionary zeal, pro voked the bitter curses of the popu lace. It showed a black-faced "es- pada," or "swordsman," in a bullring with a dying bull behind him. He was starting back, in guilty fright, from a fair, shadowy female figure representing France. She pointed to bis sword, which she had broken at his feet, and said I "The sword is not for the butcher I" The matador mnst kill a crazy ani mal. The bull is weakened, but the banderilleros with their darts, have gixen him a temporary strength, which comes from his aroused ferocity. For a tew moments be is stronger even than at first, although it is a strength that oannot last. In these few mo ments, full of danger, theespada must dispatch him. Do not talk ot cow ardioe I These espadas are the bravest kind of men. The drum sounds. Come now, lot us kill him! He calls to the Presi dent: "I greet your worship and all amateurs and all men of courage! Olel" He has a flag iu one hand, He tries the bull with groat wave. A little more and there would be one matador the less. What an esoape ! Now, Ajajal That came off well! "Take that!" Ah! He feared to strike. A hiss. Now every one is quiet. Now for ft troket Oof I The sword bends J it his struck a bone. Hn strikes again, like lightning I "Long live my merit and my art! And let it bo ns God wills!" Applause, applause, applause! It was a great stroke. There is no blood from the bull's mouth. Ho has been struck straight through tho heart, not in the lungs. The bull sways, druuken. Then he comfortably sottlcs on his knees. Then ho sits down as if he were to go to sleep at night. Then no is ricad. The matador is walking round the ring and bowing, while cigars, oranges and hats and flowers rain down on him by thousands. It is ft way the audience has of showing its delight and admiration. The fighting bulls of Andalusia have their breeding places chosen for them as if they were young princes with a taste for natural scenery, or gods mas querading, as they one time did, in bovine shape. o valley is too fryh and sweet with odorou herbs for theiuj uo stream of mountain source too vir ginal and cool for their hot youthful hides to wallow in. The young bulls have even chaperon to keep thera company and ki.ep tacm ont of harm. There are the cabestros, very intelli gent oxen, who fulfill toward them the office of guide, philosopher and friend from their youth np. As soon as a young bull goos beyond the limits of his natural pasturage these cabestros, without even an order from the guard ian, dash after him, ringing their bells which hang from their fat necks. They kiou surround the young de serter, who, without the least resist ance comes back with a lowerod head, as if ho were ashamed. The usefulness of these cabestros is no less even in the bull ring. From time to time young bulls are tested in the ring, with leather balls around their horns. A crowd of boys climb down from out the audience nnd show off their skill by teasing him aud slip ping from him. There is not much danger for the boys, excepting broken ribs, anil for the bull there is not even pain. They tease him with their coats, imt may not strike him. But he gets excited, rushing furiously, aud yon cannot make him leave the ring. Or, ns it sometimes happens, a brave and intelligent bull at a real fight is spared his life at the demand of the audience, or disables two men or kills one. In each case ho must go free. But it would be iu vain to try to drive him from the ring. Yet it is sufficient that these good old oxen should appear ringing the remembered bells of his childhood for the yonng bull or the old bull to hasten to join tho group again and run out to the stables, after a short trot roun the ring. Oldest .llason In the United State. Tho oldest Freemason in the United Slates, Adna Adams Treat, was born in Hartford, Conn., April 8, 1797. Iu lHi'i ho became n member ot Apollo Lodge of Troy, N. Y., aud he is still a member of that organization. In 1 S 2 .5 he married Miss Jane He i lay, of Troy, who died October 28, 18UI). For a number of years Mr. Treat has lived in Denver, Col., with his daughter, the wife of Doctor Burnham, of that city. He is the oldest churchman in the West. In early life this Aged Mason was bngnged in the picture frame buiness iu Hartford. He was one of the foun ders ot "the Troy Looking-Glass Man ufactory." In 18J0 he romoved to Syracuse and engaged iu the grain trade. Subsequently he retided in Ohio nnd Indiana, going westward with tho population of the period, lie was eighty years of ago when he began the wiitius of poems of an anniver sary aud descriptive character. Hie description of the Kooky Mountains and the poem written on the ninety sixth anniversary of his birth have beeu published. The old Mason and his bride. Jane Reilay, were regarded as the hand somest couple in Troy back in 1825. Mr. Treat is hale aud hearty in nis f ADVA ADAMS TKEAT. ninety-eighth year and bids fair to reach the coualuding years of the cen tury. Ho has beeu a Mason more than seventy years. New York Times. An Improvement Iu Churn. An improvement in the ordinary box-shaped oonoussiou churu has been made in Australia. The improvement consists simply in having two square aperture!, one opposito the other, in stead of the one aperture whioh is the rulo iu ordinary ohurus. The seoond opening permits thorough ventilation after the operation of churu ng U oonnluded, and also enubles the clean ing to be uiuoh more effectually done thau under the old condition. New York World. The greatest naval review of mod cm times was by (jueeu Victoria in ISH at the begiuniug of the Crimean war. The fleet cxtouded iu au un brokon line for five miles aud com prised 300 men-of-war, with twioe that number of store aud supply ships. Tha fleet was manned by 40,000 seamen. There are 320,000 men of til nation in the British army.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers