—————————————— er iad SS RR Demag Wada, Bellefonte, Pa., Feb. 3, 1893 SWEETHEART, COME BACK. Sweetheart, come back! The day is sad lonely, Since youare gone, and I am left alone ; The breeze that sighed of love now murmurs onl, A dhe of Sorvow in a minor tone : Sweetheart, come back ! Sweetheart, come back! My heart for you is in . 1 Von Ty with ghosts of long ago ! My hopes.’ my dreams, like autumn leaves, are dying, . _ And on the world, and on my heart is snow— Sweetheart, come back ! Sweetheart, come back ! Obey a lover's wishes Come back to him who loves you, ah! too well ; . . Besides, I hate to see you washing dishes And scrubbing floors in that third rate hotel— Sweetheart, come back ! : — Washington News S—————————— SCOTTY'S DAY OFF. BY ROBERT C. V. MEYERS. The flat had witnessed a fuss of con- siderable acuteness; the old man had landed the dishes in the street, and then offered to go and hunt up a policeman and have himself arrested if his wife should feel like ‘entering a complaint. She did as she had done on similar oc- casiongs—she turned to her sewing-ma- chine and pileof overcoats, ard frowned over to Scotty not to say a word. It was hard on Scotty. If it had been his own father it would have been bad enough, but a step father! But he knew it would be all the worse for his mother if he interfered, eo be held his tongue, as usual, and hoped the old man would leave before he did. But the old man was not in a hurry this morning, although he was shaking for want of the bitters for the purchase of which his wite bad told bim she had not the money. The old man was sure there was money in the place, and he meant to have it. Scotty was afraid the sewing-machine would follow the dishes, so he lingered over the packing of his lunch. All to no purpose, for the old man sullenly planted himself on a chair and silently eyed them. Scotty dared not stay a minute lon- ger; he was late already, and he had ‘been late every day for the week the old man had been on his cantico, and the foreman had complained of it. If he lost his situation, what then ? The old man had not worked since he went on the strike a year ago; the overcoats were not eternal, and the spring coats would not be ready for a month yet. With him out of a situation, how would they get on? He could only hope the sewing-machine might be spared, and his mother remain unmo- lested. He did not even dare to whis- per to his mother not to be frightened, for the 61d man was so suspicious, and had regarded him with greater disfavor than ever this last week because he had been quiet and staid at home of nights instead of going with the boys— not even to annoy the Gradys on the first floor the night Annie was married. And why bad he not gone out ot nights this past week? Scotty’s cheek burned as he thought of that keeping in doors and guarding a feeling he could not understand and which he dared not divulge. He knew his moth- er locked on him strangely, too, and very likely thought he'd got religion, ‘because the Heavenly Recruits had roused up of late, and balf the people in the bouse were whistling the hymns, especially that one that sounded like a ‘break.down. Even the Catholic Gra- -dys whistled and hammed that tune. But it was not religion Scotty had. He was in love, and he did not know it. He bad been in love six months, and not till a week ago had he been unhap- py because of it. He was older than his years, and younger by reason of his -ecvironment, and yet he did not know what love meant. The object of his adoration was Miss Alice, his boss's daughter who came down to the shap Sometimes to walk home with her fa ther. Tt began when he saved her lit- tle dog from being run over. Scotty loved her from that day ; her smile her gentle voice, her delicacy. these were all 50 new to him. After thet day she would nod and smile to him if she saw him as she went into the office. He used to watch for her and getin her way for the sake of that nod and smile, and would dream abous her, All this until a week ago. A week ago, the day of the Grady wedding, wheo he had anticipated so much pleasure with the guests’ hats and things, the foreman told the shop that Miss Alice would be married the following Thursday—that was to-day. Scotty was at his bench when the fore- man spoke. All at once something seemed to pain him in the chest, like a lump that had got there suddenly. All day he made mistakes; couldn't get things right. In the evening the boys whistled their mystic whistle for him, but he staid away from them. They were no longer companionable; even the peanut gallery palled upon him; and he held himself to be a critic in matters theatrical, and bad his favor- ites among the actors, and fought for them. Yet for a week he had felt like keep ing away from all that he knew and staying up in the flat ~ith his mother, in the ceaseless whir of the sewing-ma- chine. He could hear the drums and the voices of the Heavenly Recruits as they went into barracks round the cor- ner, and his mother, without stopping her work, would look over to him and emile her wan smile, and eay she was 80 glad for him, and that religion was a good thing, and she'd often felt like it herself, only she’d never had the time, and she hoped he'd bea good man, as his father had been. A tear would tremble in her faded eye, where great memories glimpsed out. And Scotty did not contradict her. He knew that if he attempted io say a word he should break down, and then bis mother might get to thinking all had been he, as Grady maintained, who had called *Fire I'" that night when all the people were asleep, and the Dago ! had broken his leg in foolishly ventur- ing down the fire-eseape. The old man thought all sorts of things about him instead, finding him in the house .of evenings. The old man abused him so that he might aseer- tain if his surmises were correct, and failing ‘to receive the irritating replies for which he longed, imagined more miserable things still, not the least among which was that Scotty had helped himself to the firm's money. The old man was always accusing peo- ple of taking money that did not be- long to them. Thus he was insistent for funds this morning, giving as the alternative the pitching of the room into the street, beginning with the dishes. After the dishes he waited awhile. He had serious opinions regarding the fitness of his wife’s following the china, only he argued that if this came about, and Scotty still refused to take the hint and imburse him, the flat would have to be given up, as there would be no one to work the sewing-machine. The stove might go and the bedstead, and the plush photograph-album he had once bought in a moment of weakress, before he had gone on the strike ; but he would wait even for this, and give his wife time to give Scotty the wink. For the old man was persuaded that that the mother and son were in collu- sion, and that some day he should come home and find the flat vacant, and the two of them gone off to live in selfleh luxury somewhere, deserting him for a life of mad frivolity and fash- ion. But the wink did not pass between them, Instead, Scotty, not daring. to stay any longer, and trusting that the old man was too rockey to tackle the machine, put his newspapered lunch away up under his armpit, and with- out a word, and followed by the fierce whir of the machine, went out into the entry. The Grady children and Filipo, the littlest Dago, who was cross-eyed and confusing, bad some of the broken china from the streetand had come on the stairs with it, waiting for the de- nouzment of the fracas. Jimmy Gra- dy jeered, and Filipo winked in a puz- zling way, but Scotty took no notice and hurried on, not even staying to see the outcome of a scrap between Mrs, Grady and Dutchy, the shoemaker, re- garding a pair of Grady’s boots, which had such apparent invisible patches on them that Grady declared every other walking delegate would consider him hard up. : In the street Scotty took a long breath. He wondered if his mother would remain unmolested. He wished he had the money to give the old man. But be had not a cent of his own; he was even saving his pie-money to give his mother at the end of the week. For he had done a most extravagant thing ; he had told the foreman to put down his name for the full week's wages to wards Miss Alice’s wedding present which the men were getting up. What eyes the men had made when be said that! and Shorty” Ginther, so called becanse of his extraordinary length of limb, and who knew more about theatres than any other man, said : “Why cert. What's the dif to him? But this 18 sarc. Where did you get the mun ?”’ and asked him if it were ‘‘property’’ money. No, he had not a cent except his pie- money, and that belonged to his moth- er, who need never know his lunch for a week had been bread alone, without the accompaniment of that pastry that he liked above anything else. What would his mother say when she knew of the disposition of his week's wages-— bis mother whose only hope was he! But he did not care; somehow or other, he could not care for anything just now. For Miss Alice was so sweet, go gentle, und had always spoken so kindly to him, and she was going to be married. Could he have given less tnan his week’s wages towards her wedding present? Wasn't it pleasant to think he should suffer for her sake ? She would never know, bute should. To-day was the wedding-day. He would be in the shop working, sinudgy, at the beck and call of the men, while in a church, to the sound ot beautiful music, amid fragrant flowers, dressed all in white, she would be married. Then, he had heard, she was going to another city to live ; he should never see her any more. He wouid cee her once more. He did not care what might come of it, but he would go to that church at noon to- day, and stand outside the awning that would stretch from curb to church por- tal, and see her go in on her father's arm and come out on her husband's, He would, he must, see her once again. His head was not quite clear. He bad not slept much this week, and he seemed to hear the whir of the sewing. machine as he burried along. Would the old man fire the machine? No machine, and he with no wages this week, how would they live? “Shorty” Ginther called out to him, in his tragic manner, as he entered the shop : “Me prophetic soul, me uncle! "Tis late you are, me lord. Who steals me purse steals trash. You'll bedocked. If you want to be bounced, say so.” Scotty put on his dingy apron and went to work. There was a elock in the room, and he watched the hands, Miss Alice would be married at nooo, and it was now nine. At half past eleven he would make for the church and see her, The groom? He knew nothing of him. He did not know his name, He knew he should never for- get the name if he once heard it, and he was always afraid some of the men would mention it. Yer, at eleven thirty he would go and look upon Miss Alice for the last time. Maybe she would see him there, and remember that time about the dog, and smile at him. He wondered if she would take her little dog with her to her new home. He wished it would get lost, and he should find it and keep it as something she had cared for. sorts of things about him, even that it ' Then he was angry with himself for having such a thought. Whatever she cared for, that she ought to have. He worked and attended to the be- hests. of the men: The wachinery whizzed, tools scraped and pounded, the men whistled popular melodies and told jokes, and “Shorty” Ginther showed them how Booth looked in the ‘third act of Hamlet. Then the foreman went ont, staid a little while, and came back, gingerly carrying a remarkable creation of col- ored glass and silver, which represen. ted the gift of the men to the bride—a gift which would cause a shudder in the bride and groom, and be religious. ly kept from their friends. Scotty ‘with burning eyes approached it. He considered it the most beauti- ful work of art that could possibly be concocted. “I thought you'd all like to see it,” said the foreman—he had headed the committee that had purchased it after the man who had it for gale told them there was not another one like it in the city—*“before we sent it up to the house.’ Scotty looked longingly at it. It would belong to Miss Alice, and it had his week's wages in it; thus she would possess something of his. He put out a finger and touched it. “That's right!” said the foreman ; “take all the polish off it! Rub your hands all over it while you're about 1t! Now who'll take it to the house?” “I will,” cried Scotty, his heart bounding—maybe he might see Miss Alice, and she would say how beauti- ful it was, and he could tell her he hoped she’d be happy, and ask after the health of ber little dog—*I will,” The foreman asked him what was eating him, and gave the shining mass into the care of two men, and told them he wouldn’t take any time oft it they staid till after dinner hour. Ouse of the men borrowed adime from ‘Shorty,’ who forthwith vented his nautical knowledge regarding the value of a pair of schooners. Scotty went back to his bench. ' It was ten o’clock. Two tours more and he should see the bride. He had forgotten his mother, home, everything; his head was on fire; he must see Miss Alice once more. He could not work ; he trembled like the old man. The whistling men annoyed him; the grinding of the machinery set his teeth on edge. “Shorty” Gin- ther threw a file at him to find out if he were asleep. At half past ten the foreman called him to take into the of. fice some work that was to go there, In the office the clerks were dressed in their best; one of them had a flow- er in his coat. The office had been asked to the church wedding, and was going, all except ald Baker, who was said to keep himself with a chaffing- dish, and so was much ot an old bache- lor that he would’t have gone to his own wedding. And in the office was the boss. The boss was in a great way. The signing of an important contract had called him down to the office. Scotty delivered the work, when the boss looked up. “Oh,” he said, “you're the boy who hus sometimes been'to the bank 2” Yes, Scotty was theboy. Ever since he had saved Miss Alice’s dog that time, and especialy as Miss Alice said he had an honest face, the boss had no- ticed him, and had him do some er- rands for him. The boss handed him a check, and told him to make haste, and smilingly explaived to old Baker something about somebody wishing to draw out all ber account, which had been kept in her maiden name. Old Baker sniffed and turoed to his ledger, and said they hadn’t been married seven years. As for Scotty, he knew he should have to hurry if he expected to get to the church in time. He got on his hat and coat and ran for the bank. Of course everything got in hie way ; such ordinarily inanimate things as fire plugs started up suddealy just in frost of him with the most malignant perversi- ty. Bat he reached the bank at last. As he went in he happened to look up; there was the old man going along. In a flash all the old home life came up before him, and he thought how @on- temptible he must be to be thinking of weddings when maybe the machine was lying out in the street, and his mother sitting up in the dismantled room ery- ing in her feeble way—his mother, who was waiting till he was a man and could take her fromthe old man. He would not go the wedding; he would not lose that mueh time; he would work, and try to make all he could for his mother; only he could nef regret having used his week’s wages for Miss Alice’s present. Yet, his mother! In the bank two or three were before him at the teller’s window. He got in- to line. He opened his check, and then all the would spun round. The check was signed by Miss Alice draws out in her own name, the last act of her maidenhood ; evidently her father would give her the money on reaching home. his eyes. Reverently he raises the pa- per to his lips, his head bent over it. The man in front of him moved for- ward, vacated his place at the window, and it was Scotty's turn. He presen. ted the check was recognized, and the money handed to him—Miss Alice's money, to be carried by her! He held it close in his fist; he would hold it thus, making it warm with his life, till he gave it up to her father; it should carry that much of himself to her. A clock somewhere struek eleven. Eleven o'clock! He hurried out. There was the old man. He caught Scotty by the arm. “I want that money you got in there,” he said. “No gettin’ off this time. I want it—do vou heari—and I mean to haveit. Fork it over, you—" He made a lunge. With a deft movement Scotty dodged him. Then the old man called his mother a name, and said that he had beaten her. All that he had taken from the old man ! for sake of his mother, all that his mo- ther had stood, all the agony that was in his soul at that moment, came up 10, 1860. to Scotty, and he leaped and planted a blow itr the old man’s. It was madness then. down in the mud of the street, the old man on top of him, poundin searching for the money, beating the boy who was powerless before such frenzy. He was being choked, his head nearly squeezed off his shoulders. He almost heard his bones crack. He might-be killed, but Miss Alice’s mon- _ey should never be alive. He had pains all over him : he was ‘suffocating. But should never leave him while he had life, Was that his mother’s sewing machine he heard, or was it the mach- inery in the shop! middle of the cartway, writhing to his feet only to go down again, the old ‘people yelling, horses tramping near to pieces, Then there was a lull, and Her name, written by hereelf! | He looked at it till a mist swam before | her any more. the shop when next he went there, he greeted him with, “Well, Scatty, I guess that was your day off, wasn’t it?” And Scotty nodded, and said yes, he |longer. face. Scotty was taken from him that money Was he in the man scratching away after the money, bim. There was one more awful shake than all, and be felt that he was going he gasped. There was a pressing round him, and he pushed the dirt from his eyes. ' A policeman held the froth- ing old man. i “Lam his father,” said the old man, “and he siruck me. He's a thief; he oldest of all’ proper names. rived’ from r which the body of the first man, Adam was taken. signifies “Matthew’s son.” quest introduced Matthew 8s a proper name into England. James. “Jacques,” was brought into England by soldiers of the camp of the Black Prince and of Henry V. and its transi- tion to our “Jack” was easy. Names of the Presidents ; | Washington was originally from Wes- | syngton, an English manor ofthat name | ! existing about the middle of the Thir- him, | teenth century, whose owner took, ac- cording to custom, the title of his estate as surname. $ Adams is of Hebrew origin and the It is de- adama, real earth, from Jetterson is simply a corruption of Geaoffrew, or Godirey, a favoritename of the Middle Ages, peace.” “God's meaning Madison is also of Hebrew origin and The Con- Monroe is an Irish name taken from Mo unt Roe, a mountain in Ireland on the River Roe. Juckson is literally the son of John or The French form of James, Van Buren is’ Dutch and signifies of or belonging to the town of Buren, in Holand. Harrison is partly of Norman origin got his boss's check cashed, and ' he | #nd is the “son of Henry or Harry.” was running off with the money when I collared him.” Scotty was dragged and pushed, his muddy, torn condition laughed at. He was before a magistrate, the old man appearing against him. ‘Scotty listen- ed, dazed, to the charge of theft pre- ferred against him. Dared he tell the ruth ? Even if he were believed, would 1t not go all the harder with his mother—wouldn’t the old man take it out of her? He said not a word, The clock in the room struck twelve—noon. He gavea convulsive start, a Miss | a is from u Saxon word meaning ‘ever rich.” Tyler has a very plain significance, meaning simply “a layer of tiles.” Polk is ‘an abbreviation of Pollock, from the parish of Pollock, in Scotland. The word is from the Gaelic, ‘pollag,” little pond. Taylor, like Tyler, is taken from the name of a trade. Fillmore is of Saxon origin ; ‘‘fille,” fullness and ‘‘mere,” a moist piece of ground, literally a fertile piece of ground. It is also ascribed to the - Celtic “filea,” bard, and ‘‘mor,” great, a great bard Alice was being married; he had miss- | or poet. ed the wedding, and her father had not taken her the money. She would think he was a thief! No, no; he would tell how the old man had tried to get the money ; he would tell it now; he must clear himself now. Then he saw his mother’s face, pale, wan, full of suffering. Should the old man wreak his vengeance on her ? No, Miss Alice, all the world should consider him a thief rather than that. He looked wildly about him; the pains all over him seemed to concen- trate into one that was in his head. “Miss Alice! Miss Alice!” he sud- denly cried out, in a voice strong with griet. and fell over in a heap. The next thing he knew he was in ierce is one of the forms of Percy, the great English family ot Northum- berland, which took its name from Per- cy Forest, called probably from the German *pirsen,’’ to hunt. Buchanan was a parish in Sterlirg, Scotland, whose name’s derivation is un- certain, but probably from the same root as Buchan, the Gaelic words being “bora” and ‘‘dier,” a place full of deer. Lincoln is from the Gaelic, “lin,” a lake, and “coin,” the ridge cf a hill. Lincoln, in England, is so named be- cause it is on the top and side of a steep hill on the River Witham. Johnson is merely “the son of John’ and comes from the Hebrew. Grant has three origins ascribed to it. The Baxon, ‘‘gruns,”’ crooked —the Sax- a little room back of the magistrate’s | on name of Cambrid e is Grantbridge ; g g ge; office. His face was washed, and a doctor was beside him, “His father has most unmercifully beaten him,” said the doctor, the worst of these rude uncultured peo- ple; when they are honest they treat dishonesty brutally. Open your hand, my man.” Scotty looked at him, “Open your hand.” repeated the doctor; “it is bleeding.” Scotty held up the indicated hand. It was tight shut. “Open it,” said the doctor. : Just then Scotty heard the voice of the boss. Tune boss had parted with win,” ready, prepared. ed to the German ‘‘gar’’ and field, mean- ing a place where all is prepared for an army. the old Irish, dark or swarthy, and the Freach, “grand,” great or large. Hayes is of Anglo-Norman origin and “That’s | comes from ‘‘hay,” a hedge orinclosure. The word “hayes,” is used by Chaucer. Garfield is from a Saxon word, ‘gar- Itis also ascrib- Arthur is British and means a strong man, from ‘‘ar,” a man, and Thor, the | German Jupiter. Cleveland comes from Yorkshire, England, and it is a corruption of Cliff-' and. cliff, and “land,” a people,.— Baltimore. The Anglo-Saxon is ‘‘cleve,” a £ ) his daughter but a little while ago, | dmerican. and in consequence was in a gentle! mood, kindly disposed towards all’ whom she had ever liked—and she’ had liked Scotty. “I am sorry to say,” he was saying, | “my foreman tells me the boy has been | coming late to work for some time, and has been neglectful. Besides, he gave his whole week's wages wedding-gift the men got up for my daughter, and I fear he could hardly have afforded that honestly. Appear- ances are against him. And yet I trasted thefittle chap. He was brave. At the peril of his life he rescued my daughters little dog that had run un- der the feet of some horses; and I nev- er heard that he was untruthful, Brave and truthtal people are not usually dishonest, are they? He hae drawn money tor we before, and I mever miss: ed a cent. It would be difficult to wake my daughter, whose money this was, believe that he isa thiet—" “Miss Alice! Miss Alice!” again rangwout Scotty's voice. The boss went up to where helay. “I didn’t collar— the money,” he said, with an effort. rT — She Was From Chicago. 4 How a Western Young Woman Astonished the Passengers in One Car. There are some things that astound and startle a New Yorker. One of these is the exhibition on the part of anybody towards 21 of any degree of affection for Chicago. A day or two ago I met a handsome young married lady on the Sixth ave- nue elevated. the west, where I had known her sev- eral years ago, and we naturally discuss- ed her recent change of base. S| in one of the cross seats in the middle of the car, and I stood with others in the aisle. She had always lived in She sat I like Chicago much better than New York,” she begun. The two men reading stock reports in the seat facing her glanced at her sharp- ly over their glasses. The old man next to her hitched up hiseont nervously and louked sorey for her. ‘It may be that New York will im- prove on acquaintance,” she went on mischievously, seeing the sensation she made. I’ve only been here two months, “I—dido’t want—to paint the town— | 41d if it wasn’t for my husband’s busi- red with it. That's straight. 1 eaid —I'd hold it till I give—it to yon—and I done it—diss Alice’s money.” His hand unclosed, and there was a little wedge of banknotes stained with his blood where the aails of his fingers had pierced his palm. His hand had never anclosed from the time he hed been handed the money at bauvk sll now. “Miss Alice,” he managed to ness I'd go right back to Chicago. It’s awfully slow here!” IL considerately intimated that she'd find things fast enough in New York when she got acquainted —that the com- plaint was oot a general one- that, in short, New York was a real nice sort ot a town shen you got wsed to it. “But I like western people best,” she said. The old man next to her looked say, “tell her { wasn’t no thief’s, belp | out of the window and groaned audibly, me! Motherknows [ ain’c. Heavea- ly Recraits—machine in the street. I'll go to church an’ see her onect more before she goes away forever—" And then it was dark. When the light eame again many things were brighter for Scotty. But Miss Alice while the other people .apparently re- garded her in