Adieu, ‘Good -by—there's nothing more | Good-by. There's a bird on the bough, a flower in the grass: The san lies bright on the step; the sky Wing-fleckod with clouds that pass, You wil miss, I know, what grace of time Has vanished in mists that youthful lia, And think, if love had ever a prime, It could never grow old or die! You will wateh the pathso'er the day's swift fos To it's home on the sunsets purple rim, And say: There surely was som ething sweet That somehow loft me with him!" I 5 How Silly *Twould Re, * Yon have heard,” said a youth to his sweet. heart, who stood While he sat on a corn-sheaf, at daylight's de- olinew.. of wood; I wish that the Danish boy's whistle were wine,” And what would you do with it? Tell me’ she said, While an arch smile played over her beauti ful face. my fair maid Would fly to my side and would there take her place.” ‘Is that all you wish for? Why, that may be yours Without any magic I” the fair maiden oried; And she playfully seated herself by his sida, “I would blow it ayain” said the youth “and the charm Would work so that not even modesty’s check Would be able to keep from my neck your white arm.” She smiled and she laid her white arm round his neck. T i —————— EC VOLUME XV, HE and C * NUMBER 23. ones, “I had my baly in my arms, and when I looked at its thin little face and more what we needed-—and we asked no more-—I conld not weep for his going ; I said only, ‘God bless you and keep you and help you, my husband I' when 18 went away. “Ah, but it was terrible after he was gone! I had my baby to care for and I could not do much; indeed there was | and my husband was dead, and [ had | was And I said *‘ Monsieur, I have walked all the No they helped me to a seat, | I did not know very well what was going on, but I heard upon, { poor. I waited and hoped, thinking | every day would bring me news from { my husband, but none came. { went by—still no word. | desperate with anxiety. | prefect; I told him my story, and I { asked him—I begged him for a railway | ticket to Paris, He could do nothing for me, he said. Probably my husband | had grown tired of working for a wife | and child, and had meant to rid him- | self of them by going away. He would {ry to get me enough work in the vilage to keep me from starvation. That was | all, “I was in despair I stopped to see the wife of Jean Pot At last I grew al, swored, ‘They have taken the body said : “Monsieur, it is the good (God sends | it, and He knows best ; and if you will give me some work, in charity, I will try to earn enough to go back to my “Ab, children, such a kind gentle- | He kept me there in the hos. | pital and gave me nourishing food and beside my | back to Normandy. And when I got there, the dear lady, your grandmamma | divine Would bring me bliss... And wou | your fair cheek to this brown one of mine; Kiss ™ The maiden laughed out in her innocent glee — What a fool of yourself with the whistle you'd make ! For only considering how silly “twounld be To sit there and whistle for what you might take” The Story of Margot. enough in old Margot's cottage; but | what did that matter? Margot had eyes like a cat—so the children said. She | was seated by her wheel, far in the | shadow, spinning as skillfully as if she had been out in the open sunlight itself. : She was guoite a personage in the vil lage, this Margot—a better spinner still, | many a young, bright-eyed girl, who | would gladly have held her place as an | unexceptionable workwoman, “What will yoa?" the people said. * She has had her sorrows, poor woman, | and she is alone in this great world, | Assuredly she deserves all the kindness | that is bestowed on her. We all know | her story. Ah, me! but it must have | taken an incredible courage not to | despair under ber trouble. But never a murmur was heard from her, they! say. Always patient, always busy—an just imagine that she was once 2s the youngest of you. ‘One would not think it,” Madelon, the village beauty, observed with a shrug. * Yet Mother Alanne tells me she was very pretty in her day.” “That, indeed, she must have been,” | said one of the older women. i “Made- | lon, my girl, thy lover wonld, perhaps, find himself able to turn his eyes away from thee were she but young again.” “Well, well!” Madelon returned, | “What have I said against her? She is always gentle, at least, and has only | kind words on her tongue.” “YT.ook, then, how she defends her- self, the beanty I” the woman cried out, langhing. “But come, my friends, let us go, for here comes Gaston, and his eyes take but one direction yet.” ; There was a sound of veices along the path that led to the cottage. Old | Margot looked through the doorway from her seai. The young people from the castle were approaching, Paul and Marie arm-in arm, and Anna tripping ahead. At the turning the nurse could | be seen walking away, having evidently just parted from her chargé. | “Good afternoon, argot,” said Paul, | taking off his cap as he entered the | cottage. * Are yon getting on nicely to-day ?’ “Yes, Monsieur Paul, as well as pos- | sible, thank God,” Margot answered, as | she returned his greeting. “ How con- | tent I am to see you all! And where | have you been this beautiful day, my | children | “ We have becn to the churchyard,” | Marie replied, * to see our little sister's | grave. You know that little baby sister | we had in the sutnmn? They buried | her in such a narrow grave. She was | ill so short a time, and nurse told us| she never cried at all; and yet mamma | cried; ab, yes, and papa too, when she | was put into the ground.” “And mamma told me,” little Anna | said, sorrowfully, lifting her great | serious eyes to Margot’s withered face, | “that she would come up from that | ground just like the flowers we planted; | and to-day the flowers are all up on the f grave, but the little sister is not | there!” | “ Margot,” Paul said, watching the | wheel as it spun round under the me- | chanical touch of the old woman's foot; | “have you any one buried in the | churchyard ? When I asked nurse why you cared so much tk Sur baby was dead she said you once had one of your own,” > A sudden, fa light came into the | dull, old eyes. “] did indeed bury my little one,” Margot answered, slowly; “but not in this churchyard. It lies far from here, and I have never seen its grave. But it is too sorrowful a story to tell you.” « “Np, indeed it is not!” Paul cried . quickly. “Iam twelve, Margot—nearly thirteen.” “And I am quite eleven,” Marie in- wterrupted, making herself as tall as pos- gible, .“You can tell it to us perfectly,” Paul continued. “Anna will make wreaths of her flowers meanwhile— wilt thou not, dearest ?—because she is too little to listen.” “You wish it, then?” Margot said. “I shall tell you; so. When I was young—you can ecarcely believe that old Margot was ever young, can you?” “Oh, yes indeed!” Paul said, “I have heard that you were also beau- tiful.” “Well, well,” the old woman re- tarnéd, with a half -pleased smile, “we will not talk of that. I was tall and straight and strong, and could do more and better spinning than any girl in the village; so one day Nicolas Cassin asked me to become his wife, and in " the spring we were married, For a while all went well; Nicolas was a good workman and we had sll we needed. But the winter was a long, hard one; every one suffered, and we with the others. 8till we hoped for better things. He was so cheorful, my hus- band | He would always say: ‘ Keep a good heart, Margot. There's more day than night, and better times will come.” ¢¢ But they did not come, and in the next spring my little one was born, and all was darker than before, till one day Nicolas came in and said : ¢ Margot, 1 can no longer earn enough hero to buy us food to eat, and I have determined to go to Paris and seek work there. Jean Potel will go also. We shall work | tears, “* Margot,’ she said ; ‘my friend, thy husband’-~ Then she put the bit of | close to me whilst I read. ing that he had been ill but was now recovered, and had a good position and would soon have enough money for her | to come on and join him, and that Nie- | olas Cassin was lying in the hospital | not expected to live, having been taken | ill on his arrival. “I did not shed one tear. Potel's wife came and knelt down by me and | ‘Weep, Margot! weep, | break I | “No," I said ; ‘tears are for a light grief. For such a sorrow 1s only the blood of one’s heart.’ “ ‘Margot,’ she said, ‘it is the good * ‘Then,’ I said, ‘He will take care of me, for I am going to my husband.’ “ ‘But the money? she said. ‘One “I shall walk,’ I said.” “Why, Margot!” Panl exclaimed. “Walk to Pans! But it is a frightful journey! We were a long, long time on the train when we went.” “It is nearly 200 miles, Monsieur Paul,” Margot answered quietly. * But if it had been 2,000 I should have un- dertaken it. We can do a great deal | when a well-beloved one lies dying, | leathern purse and took out a five-frane piece. ‘Take this,’ she said. ‘Jean need of it.” And I took it, for Iknew God would pay it to her double. That very day I took my baby in my arms and started on wy journey. “All the evening I walked, and when night came I asked shelter at a peasant’s hut. I would have paid for the food | they gave me, but when they heard my | tale the people would take nothing. In the morning I started again and walked till night. I felt no fatigue, my terrible fears gave me strength; but my little one seemed to grow quiet and paler than before. She smiled no longer at | me, and she slept almost always. The people along the way were generslly | kind and charitable, but some were very harsh, and I gave much of my | mecney for food and lodging. On the | third day, soon after I had started in the early morning, my little child began | to moan, but I hushed her and sang to her a lullaby of Normandy, and by-and- | bye she was still. ‘“At noon I came to a house and I went to the door to ask for food and a place torest a little. A womun much older than I, forty years old perhaps, | met me and made me enter and sit | | baby seftly on my knees, not to disturb it. * ‘She looks very ill,’ the woman said. “Yes, madam,” I answered, ‘she moaned in pain this morning, but now she sleeps.’ ** So she came nearer and bent down and kissed the white, pinched face and then she looked at me with a great, great pity, and she said: ‘ ‘My child (I was but twenty), dost thou not know that the little one is dead 7’ The tears were rolling down old Mar- got’s cheeks; the wheel kept up its whirring; little Aona on the doorstep was singing in her soft, childish vuice, “Au clair de la lune;” Paul was on the point of speaking, but the old woman went on: | “And I had not known it! My little | baby dead! I had thought her heavy eometimes in my arms in my long walking, Oh, but they ached ‘with emptiness! My heart cried out for the dear weight, the well-beloved weight that I should carry nevermore, never. more. “This kind, good friend 1 had found helped me to make ready my little one for the grave. I leit it with her to be buried in the churchyard of the near village, and she promised me that the priest should read the service over it, for I conld not stay. My husband was dying, it might be, so I kissed the cold, stiff lips that had smiled in death as they had not for many days in life, and went onward. Oh, how weary were the | hours on the long, dusty road! My fect | were bruised and bleeding, but I could not stop, I seemed to hear the voice of Nicolas crying, ‘Margot, Margot, come!’ and I said in my heart, ‘Yes, my hus- band, I come.’ “On the fifth day from the morning I left my home I reached Paris. 1 must then ask my way to the hospital. I had no longer any mcney; I had spent my last coin. In this great, busy, joy- ous city I could not beg for food, and I was weak for lack of it, “It was a market-day and all the streets were full. Fruits and vegtabloes were piled everywhere, and great equares were covered with flowers in baskets and in pots. 1t was like my Nor- mandy to see so many fresh, growing things. Here were checses—yellow and red and white cream cheese, and butter the color of gold; and little sugar-cakes, and gingerbread, such as little Anna loves—and I was so hungry! “But I forgot all that when I saw before me a gieat building, and an offi- cer said, when I asked him, ‘Yes, that is the hospital.’ “Oh! how my heart beat when I went in the wide entrance and found my way to the office, where I might in- quire for my husband. A tall gentle- man with gray hair was there, “ ¢ Well,’ he said, ‘my good woman, and what do you wish ?' “ Monsieur,” I said—and my knees were trembling and my hands shook so that I caught Sold of a chair—‘I am come to ask if there is here a patient named (lassin—Nicolas Cassin, mon- sieur ¥ ‘He rang a bell and another came in, and the gentleman said, ‘How is Nico- las Cassin ? and the man raid, ‘Cassin had been away traveling during all my | me with work and helped me until she died ; and then—you know how the dear father and mother take care of me. I think of my own, whose grave I can r0t watch over, and I must weep,” “Oh, Margot!" Paul said; * when | you felt such grief for your little baby ! and your husband, how could yon work | the same as before?" ‘“ Ah, you will learn by-and-bye, Mon- sieur Paul,” old Margot answered, * that when the good God sends us sor- rows He does not mean them to make us despair, but to hope, and He is always pleased with our patient work. That is the best way to eure the ache In life 1 know they are with the good God, and when I see them it will make no difference that I have never laid a flower on their graves. And now yom | ing on and they will be alarmed about » you. “When I am a man,” “I shall try to Paul said find the flowers on it so that in the spring-time it will be all covered with them. Come, inna, little sister, and say good-night to Margot. And 1 hope, dear Margot, that it has not made you too sad to tell us this long history.” “Youarelike your dear grandmamma, Monsieur Paul, always so thoughtful No, I am not sad for having told you selle Marie must not grieve about it, for it is altogether right.” Aud old Margot | the children on their way Buch a calm, clcar evening! The sun was sinking—a great, transparent ball | of rosy flame; and across the flalds had just stopped work. One of them, in her short staff petticoat and white cotton cap, was standing drawn to her | full height, with both arms stretched | over her head to relivve the weariness | { the long day's stooping. The! straight, strong, somewhat heavy figure | was etched in sharp distinctness against | the fading western glow. “That must be Madelon,” said. “No one else is go tall, wave my hankerchief to her.” “ Mine too,” little Anna cried, hold- | ing up a tiny square all stained with | having been wrapped about the stems | Marie | I shall | “The women must get very tired working all day in the fields,” Paul | observed. *I suppose Margot nsed to work too. Nurse says she was once | One would not think | she could ever have been like Madelon, “I love Margot,” Anna interposed, “ Why, Anna,” eaid Marie, with the | dignity of qnite eleven years, * dost thon think old Margot will care for cak:s? What a darling she is!" she | added in a lower tone, turning to her | brother. *Sne wishes always to give what she likes best to those she loves, Ah! Paul, look! there is mamma, and she has on her white lace dress. Anna, little one, hast thou a flower left for her? Bhe is wearing none. Quick, quick! Lot us run; she sees us; she is waving her hand to us.” They hur. ried through the gate and reached the terrace, *‘* Were you alarmed about us. mamma 7” she asked. “I had begun to think it was grow- ing late,” the mother answered. “ And where have you been, dear children ?’ she went on, laying her lovely, soft band on Anna's brown hair, whilst Panl and Marie, one on either side, put an arm through heis. “I know yon were to go to the churchyard—but afterward ?” “ Afterward,” Marie said, “we went to see Margot.” ‘“ Ah! I am glad of that, patient and so rood, and she loves so well to have you come ” “And she recounted to wus,” Paul continued, ‘“abont when she was young and how she walked all the way to Paris, and her baby died, and when she got there her husband was dead, and she cried—that old Margot, Dear mamma,” and he put his arm around her, “why do you ery ?"— Our Conti- rend. She is so | | A —. ——S— Curious Litigation, “Hermit,” in a New York letter to the Troy Z'imes, says: Twenty years of legal warfare were occasioned by an overcharge of $825 «n baggage, and the railway company which made this exaction suffers to the amount of $15,000, Every dollar of overcharge thus costs $1,750. It is a good thing that cor- porations have no souls. Were the de- fendant a man (in place of a railway company) how he would writhe at such a penalty! The facts are as follows : Cyrus H. McCormick in 1562 went to Chicago, and being charged extra for his baggage, refused payment as a mat- ter of principle. Before, however, he could call the attention of the railway officials to the error, the baggage-room was damaged by fire, He sued and ob- tained $10,000 damages but the court of appeals granted a new trial, The latter again resulted in favor of the plaintiff, but on appeal a new ttial was again obtained, This was also unsatis. factory, and the case came up for the fourth time last week with the above mentioned result, McCormick is im- mensely rich, but being determined to resist an unjust exaction, he carried the suit through twenty years of litigation, and it is to be ho that the lesson will be of use to the traveling public, Five women, graduates in good stand- ing of several reputable medical col- leges, applied recently to be admitted to membership in the Philadelphia County Medical society, and were black- balled, although the society had previ- ously voted that women should be eli- bard, and we shall soon be able, God is dead; hedied last night.’ SIX DAYS WITH BRIGANDS, Aa Italian Oficial's Capture, Release and Nivauge Esporiences, The reappearance of brigandage, in the distant neighborood of Palermo, Bieily, so soon after the recent rejoio. ings has painfully impressed the in- habitants, The particulars of the treat. ment of the ex-Syndie, Signor Notar. bartoio, by the brigands have become known since his return. As soon as his companions had been disurmed by the pretended patrol the ex-Syndic per ceived his mistake. His captors were dressed in new Bewsaglierf unforms, spoke the jargon of soldiers, and had a thoroughly military appearance, render. ing it likely that they had all once served in the army. When Bignor Notarbartolo saw the state of affairs he at once told his captors in a decided manner that all threats or bad language toward him would be of no avail, and such was the effect of his superiority of character that during the whole term of his detention the brig ands treated him with deference and away with a letter to his family, appris- ing them of what had ocourred, and that a ransom of 75,000, was demand. ed. The brigands first took Signor Notarbartolo into the woods, and then to a grotto, or rather deep ravine, in the mountains, where he was detained for six days. The cavern was constantly had changed their uniforms for the dress of peasants. The light penetrated this ravine for only a fow hours of the day, and during that time the prisoner could read a number of the Revue des Deux Mondes, whioh he hap- pened to have with him, This was his only amusement. He was not allowed to smoke during the day, lest in so doing he should betray the place of his concealment, The brigands ealled the ravine their best palace, saying that they had others in they had chosen this as it was more comfortable for “his excellence,” Dar. ing the first evening they conversed frankly about their affairs, recounting their exploits, and then begged their prisoner to excuse them if it annoyed him, but they did not know how to talk about anything but their own af- fairs. At the end of the six days (dur ing whieh, in accordance with the peti. tions of the family and a high fanetion- ary, the brigands had by order of the Minister Depretis, been left unmolst- ed) the sum of 50,0001. was conveyed to them, with which they expressed them- selves content, telling their prisoner that he would be immediately re- leased. The latter then asked for his. watch, saying that it was a keepsake. very dearto him. With characteristic” courtesy it was immediately restored so its proper owner; not, however, before one of the brigands had eyed the chain with great envy, exclaiming that it was vary tasteful and beautiful. The ex. it would be useless; on which the disinterested, and that he would gladly At this time the band had assumed very good cloth clothes, had rings on their fingers and gold chains to their watches, Signor Notarbarwolo was received in Palermo with great de monstrations of joy, the street in whieh he lives being illuminated by the in- habitants. Measures for arresting tho malefactors were then immediately taken, the distriet around Termini, where they are supposed to be still hid. ing, being surrounded by military, — London News ———————— Letters for Modern Occasions, In order to fill a want long félt, the the requirements of the later day and following the changes experienced by society. LETTER FROM A GENTLEMAN MARRIAGE. OFFERING Dear Mss Ture Torr: Stock, notes and securities, Brown stone house, , .. . Country seat, | Horses, harness and Cash on hand Yours, very truly, Tox Weary, PAVORABDLE REPLY. Deas Mr. Weavrinv—Provided yon are willing to settle all the property and one-half the money on me before mar- riage, True Tore, UNFAVORABLE REPLY, Dear Mz. Weartny—Your candied date I eannot be, Tre Ture, NOTE TO THE OLD MAN ASKING HIS DAUGH- TERS HAND, Hox. Say, Tuvrr~—Please chain the dog to-night. Yours, trnly, Tox Weary, FAVORABLE Dear Tom—Have sold the dog and bought a pair of slippers. Yours, Sax Torr, UNFAVORABLE REPLY. Mg. T. Wearrny—They are No. 11's, with box toes, and the gate has been newly.varnished, Yours, Sam Ture, INVITING A YOUNG LADY TO A PIONIC. Dear Many—The Patrick Duffy Chowder Club will hash at Barren Island, Thursday. Want to go "long ? Joumy Murray, ACCEPTING, Mz. J. Mureay—Yon bet! Many Doxonvs, DECLINING. Dear Jury —Thursday is the mis. tress’ day out. Can't go. Mary Doxonue. TO AN EDITOR. Dear Bin—Please stop my paper. A Puoor, A DAUGHTER TRAVELING FOR HER HEALTH TO HER FATHER, Dear Para—I am just too splendidly awful well for anything, only I'm broke. Please remit at once, STELLA, UNFAVORABLE RESPONSE. Dear Brera —~Am glad you are bet- ter. Inclosed please find railroad pass and a reliable time table. Yours, C. B, Daye, FROM A YOUNG MAN TO A FRIEND, Dear Ixe-—Please send me ten dol. lars per bearer. Will pay it back Saturday, Yours, Breve, INEVITABLE RESI'ONSE, Dear Sreve—Havn’t got it, Yours, Ix, GENERAL LETTER FOR ALL OCCASIONS, Dear Stn—Am very short and would like that little amount before dark to- day. Yours, A. Taror, ~ Brooklyn Eagle, REPLY TO FOREGOING, Among the 275,000 Indians reported in the United States, there are 219 churches and 80,000 church members Out of seventy tribes twenty-two aro gible for membership on the same terms as men. stated to be self-supporting, FOR THE LADIES, News and Notes for Women Mrs. L. Gi. Coburn, a lady of Ban Antonio, Texas, has 40000 silk worms at work in her yard Dr. Anna Warren, of Emporia, Kas. has a practice of $5,000 a year, besides mining interests, that will give her a competence in old age. Miss Eula Marsh is secretary of an ex change for woman's work, recently established in Detroit, which has met with decided success, Mrs, Dr. Tyler Wilcox presented H ballot at the polls of the West Joplin Miseouri schiocl election, but the judges declined to receive the vote, Miss Lizzie Bargent, the younger daughter t the minister to Germany, tends to pursue her medical studies at a German university, She is already a qualified physician, having been gradu. ated at the Pacific Medieal college, The progress of women toward com. plete parity with men iu all the rela tions of business is illustrated by the establishment of an advertising agency at Boston, Blaisdell & Foster; and the proprietors are Misses L. A. Blaisdell and E. F. Foster, Mr. W. E, Kollook, of Madison, Wis- consin, has four danghters. The two oldest are well educated physicians; the third is a successful and popular minister of a church in a Chicago su- | barb, and the fourth is a successful dentist at Chicago Beveral ladies are employed on the stall of computers iu the astronomical | observatory of Harvard college. It is éald that women have shown them. selves specially competent in the ordi nary reductions of observations in more than one Earopean observatory. Mrs, H. F, Crocker and Mrs. H. A. Johns were appointed as police matrons to look after women prisoners in police stations and eourts, through the action of the First Brooklyn Woman's Chris. tian Temperance Union, which fur- nishes the money for the purpose, In Wisconsin a committee of women | consisting of Mrs. Emma O. Bascom, wife of President Bascom, of Wisconsin university, Mrs. B. I. Delapaine and Mrs. Helen R. Olin have undertaken to | introduce suffrage literature into the | newspapers of that State as far as pos. sible, At the last election held in the oity | of Cheyenne, Wyoming Territory, | 1,434 votes were polled, 510 of which | wore voted by the women. This pro portion confirms the recent statement | of Governor Hoyt that women vote in | proportion as largely as the men in Wyoming. Judge Brady bas common sense to sap- port him, even if he lacks legal prece- | dent, in holding that a wife has a right | to sue her husband for damages from | assault and battery. The record of | wife-beating snd wife murder in this | city has become intolerably long and | offensive, — Christian Union. | A lady, Miss E. U. Keely, is the pro- | prietor of a large establishment for tye | manufeciore of steam boilers, fixtures aud machinery in Williamsport, Pa. | The receipts of her business exceed i §2 000 per month, and she selis her | goods in all parts of the country, Bast | and West. She was once bookkeeper | for the firm which carried on the works, | but it failed; the business was sold and | she became the purchaser. | Miss Alice Fletcher spoke to a dis- | tinguished and very much interested | audience in the parlors of the Foundry | church, Washington, recently, on | her life among the Indisns, and the | measures which a regard for their wel- fare and the general public interests | require in their treatment. The meet- ing was held under the auspices of an association of ladies interested in the Indian question, of which Mrs. General Hawley is president, The * New Century Club,” of Phila. delphia, one of the largest, is alse ono of the most conservative of women's organizations, One of its standing rules has hitherlo been that the ques- tion of woman suffrage could not be broached in its meetings, By general consent, this rnlo was set aside, recently, and the tabooed topic was the formal title of the paper read by Mrs, Turner, one of the founders of the club. A second innovation was made by having gentlemen discuss the paper. The meeting is reported by the correspond. ing secretary as one of the most interest. | ing ever held by the society, | Fashion Notes, Ruches outrival ruffles or plaitings for dress trimmings. _Ficello or twine lace is used alike on silk and on cotton dresses. It is said that dark blue canvas shoes will be much worn this summer, New embroidered lace fichus of black net glitter witha dense covering of fine. cut jet bugles and pendents. Pale amber and cypress green are fashionably combined in French din- ner toilets of satin and moire, _ Long curled hair in the back is again in fashion for little girls, but the curls must be large, loose and few. Velvet loops and large Alsatian bows of velvet will be much used to trim even summer bonnets of delicate straw, Black Bicilienne combined with black velvet or moire Francais is used. for the most costly and elegant costumes. ~ Large Watteau {ans are now painted in floral designs, matching those seen upon dress fabrics of foulard or sateen. Ruchings which show pinked out edges are again in fashion, but fringed ruchings are most delicate and effective. The Mother Hubbard and Kate Greenaway styles for little girls’ over- dresses and cloaks grow more in favor every day. All morning toilets in Paris are of very dark shades of Oarmelite, seal brown, indigo blue, Russian green and dark beetle color, New cloths for walking dresses are motled, and the costume is made up in Mousquetaire style, with collar and cuffs of white cloth, The long, tight redingote worn over a silk or wool skirt having no trimming but a plaited flounce at the bottom, is much worn by leading society women. The full draperies, paniers and bouf- fante tournures, which there is an effort to make fashionable, are very unbecom- ing to all except very tall and slender | women, - The old-fashioned eca'echo or Holigo- lander of forty years ago is revived, It is a silk bonnet or hood shirred on whalebone or splits of ulternate long and short lengths, so as to give the bonnet the appearance of a half opened folding gigtop. (lace eilks, which always make up into bright and stylish dresses. are to be much worn this summer, Some of the new patterns have a chene ratin stripe, brightened with tiny bouquets of field flowers. Sa'in and Pekin reps are also in fashion once more, Two other revivals are talfetas and spun silk. The latter makes very us fal and pretty walking costumes for young girls and children, Very long stockinet gloves of pale gold, black, cream color, ivory whit, wauve, dos color, olive, flesh, pals buff or tan will soon replace tha mousquetaire glove of kid, being more suitable and comfortable for warm weather. Bome of the handsomest of these new gloves assigned for evening dress have the tops edged with lace, and are delicately embroidered with tiny laurel blossoms and pale green rose leaves, Traps, Man has been oslled a tool-making animal, and the first tool was probably a trap. I do not believe that our primo. genitors were carnivorous, Long be- fore they began to covet flesh they probably hankered after eggs and milk, and had to devise means for catching the creatures to supply these. They bad no need of elaborate contrivances, Experience makes savages the best hunters, and it alone can explain their success in capturing animals whose enn- ning defies the best inventions of the amateur sportsman, With the simplest of all imaginable traps—an elastio stick with a noose —the Patagonian nomads catch hares, foxes, wolves and the shyest of all American quadrupeds, the moun- tain vieuna. Von Tschudi made the acquaintance of a Ohilian farmer who had passed several years in the Andes before he succeeded in capturing a live viouna. He had imitated the traps of the Indians, their method of xing them in the sand in the river-banks, their precaution in obliterating the traces of their footsteps, but all in vain, till an Indian renegade revealed the secrot—namely, that the vicunas in. variably select their drinking-places where there is an audille ripple in the current of the river— perhaps for the same reason that cows prefer a brook to a bond, and a running spring to a slug- gish creek, The murmuring of the siream seemed to suggest the idea of purer and cooler water ; and where the current was slow the Indians contrived to produce a ripple by an artificial oh- struction. Nearly every animal has some pseu. liarity or other that may be utilized for its capture. Minks have a queer fashion for rammaging a pile of dry leaves, and trap, because, for some reason, the idea of going backwerd never suggests itself to his mind. A Kentucky “‘turkey-pen” in simply a diteh with a roof of logs and ending in a cul-de-sac, but open st the other end. To this opening the turkeys are alluted by “sprinklings” of ditch where the bait is scattered more liberally, they follow it till they reach poke arcund their pen for weeks without discovering the means of exil, The female pumas has a marvelous talent for hiding her lair, but the trap- per knows enough if he discovers a place where she bas torn her prey, for to that place she will return again and sgain, even after the carcass Las been gnawed into a smooth skeleton. Jack- als, too, are fond of revisiting the scenes of their former revels ; some ani. mals would seem to be endowed with the gift thatsnpported Cardinal de Rats in his exile—tbe faculty of * luxuriating on recollections.” In Earope where new preserves have often to be s'ocked with game-birds, hundreds of partridges are sometimes caught alive by the fol- lowing simple device : Near the haunts ing bere and there is set across a flald, and on either side of the transit-holes the trapper fastens a wire noose. No bait is needed ; partridgaes never fly over a hedge if they can crawl through, their motive being probably their general re- Inctance to betray their whereabouts by taking wing in an open fleld. Hunted conies, as well as rats and mice, are likewise almost sure to make for the next hole, incurring any risks for the sake of momentary concealment. In chasing a rat about a room, much trouble can be saved by twisting an old news. paper in the form of a sugar-loaf bag and placing it on the floor alongside the wall, If the outlaw can be induced to approach it from the open side, he wiil dash in with a squeak of delight and can be captured before he discovers that his harbor of refuge has been block- aded.— Lippincott, The Three Cold Days in April. Prootor, the astronomer, says in Knowledge : Few weather phenomena in this country are more remarkable, and seem at present less easily explained than the so called “borrowing days,” a8 they are called, between the 10th and 14th of April, when usually the temperature falls considerably below that due to the time of year. The cold marked --first, to have attracted long since general attention ; and secondly, to affect in a very obvious mauner the average temperature for these three cold days of April, which before the change of style were the first three days of the month, thus described in doggerel lines in the north of Eng land : “March borrows from April Three days, and they are ill ; The first of them is wan and weet The second is snaw and sleet, The third of them is a peel-a-bane, And freezes the wee bird's neb tae stane ™ The following lines are given in the “ Glossary of Scotch Words and Phrases" “Said March to April, Gie me three hoggs upon von hill; And in the space of days three 1'll ind & way to gar them die, The first a Bitter blast did blaw, The second it was sleet and soaw, The third it came sae full » freeze The bird’s nebs they stack to the trees: But when the days was past and gano The tree puir hoggs cam hirplin hame.” This is manifestly an imperfect ver- sion of the lines in the poem called the “‘Complaynt of Beotland,” where the reference to the borrowing of three April days is much clearer (in the above account March borrows hogs not days): March said to Aperill 1 see three hogs upon a hill; But lend your first three days to me, And I'il be bound to gar them deo, The first it shall be wind and weet, The next it shall be snaw and sleet, The third it shall be sic a freeze, Shall gar the birds stick to the trees, But when the borrowed days were gane, The three silly hogs cam hirplin hame, This is, I believe, the oldest version of the doggerel. It belongs to a time when the three cold days of April really were the first three days of April, The other was medified to correspond with the new style, according to which the cold days fall in the heart of the mon b, and cannot be very well im- agined to be borrowed by March, It is worthy of observation how correctly common observation has indicated the true position of these cold days, for in the temperature curve derived from three quarters of a century of accurate observation at Greenwich the depres. sion corresponds exactly with the days which before the change of style were the 1st, 20 and 34 of April, 3 A ———— If we accept as truth the statement that every adult man has enough phos- phorus in his system to make 4,000 easily explain why it is that when he slips up on a banana peeling he sees 4 (00 packages of friction malches strike fire, sm How It was Taken from lis Owuer-Jis Hestoral, There was recently on exhibition in St. Louis the watch worn by the late Jesse James for nearly eight years and taken bY him from its owner, Hon, John A. Burbank, of Richmond, Ind, st Malvern Junction, Ark, After the no. torious robber's death the wateh was found smong his effects and returned to ite owner. The story of the rob as told by Governor Burbank is as fol. lows: “In the spring of 1874 I was going to Hot Bprings, Ark, At that time per sons going to the Bprings left the rail. road at Malvern Junction and traveled ncros. the country by stage. We reached Malvern in the morning snd left there early in the forenoon, There were fifteen or sixteen rsons going over, one lady and the rest gentlemen. ‘Most of the ors, some ten or twelve, were placed in a six-horse & coach. I and a gentle. man named Taylor, from Connecticut, and a sick man whose name 1 do not know, were in a hack ether, while the lady occupied a third hack by her. self. The distance to Hot Springs was about twenty miles. The stage coach led the way, our hack followed and the hady came last. The road was rough and we made rather slow gress, the vehicles being * pn, hundred yards apart. Between and 4 o'clock in the after- noon, when we were within about five miles of Hot Springs, and jost after crossing a little stream where the horses were walered, five men on horseback rode up from the front and passed us to the rear. They were all well mounted; two or three had on } overcoats and perhaps one or two shotguns, but there was nothing sus- picious or remarkable in their appear ance. I thought there might bes shoot- ing-match or something of that kind in the neighborhood, “In a very short time the same men rode back agsin past our hack to the front. We paid no particular attention to this, In a few minutes we heard great shoutizg, cursing, ete., and look- ing out saw the conch had been stopped a short distance ahead of us. We drove up as fast es we could, supposing that a sherifl’s posse had stopped the coach to make an arrest or something of that sort. The coach was # ascending a Little hill, and where the road was quite narrow. When we got there we found it surrounded by five men on horseback, the same who had passad us, all heavily armed and with revolvers leveled at the coach. One had a Win- chester rifle and the other four each bad a seven-shooter in his hand and two in his belt, making twenty-one shots in sight to each man. When we got up they ordered us all to get out and form in line. I was at the head of the line. As it turned out there was but one weapon in our party, and this # small pocket pistol. Another was in 3 put up our bands. Then one of the men us covered with their revolvers he went through us. Coming to me first he aid, ‘I'll take what you've got.’ Ob. serving my diamond pin, he went for it without ceremony, While doing that he discovered my watch chain, a very heavy oue, re 1 wore under my vest, sod jerking it out threw it over my head and then pulled out the watch. He then went in my pantaloons and got my pocketbook, which con- tained about $60 The diamond pin was worth from $2560 to $300, and the watch and chain $500. All this time we were covered by the revolvers, and being unarmed had no choice but to submit, Oar hands were still np. I had on a ‘You'd better put your gloves on or I'll take that ring.’ 1 pat my hands down long enough to put my gloves on, and he kindly overlooked the ring. When he got through with me he took the next in order, and so on through the line. From my Cinnecticnt friend they got an old-fashioned watch, which was an heirloom in the family, and 8500 in money. He offored a big ransom for the watch, but they refased to nego- tiate. Fiom the rest they only got small amounts, When they got through with us Jesse James called out to the driver: ‘Throw down that mail bag. The driver made no motion at first, and James leveled his pistol at him and sald again: ‘Throw down that mail bag,’ The driver obeyed. The pouch was cut open, the contents poured out on the ground, snd the man who was on foot began to famble over the mail. He first tore open a large official envelope, which bad nothing but official papers in it. See. ing there was no money, Jesse James called from his horse, * Pat that letter back,’ and the man obeyed without a word, mail and soon stopped opening - the letters. They then broke open the ex- press trunk and found two packages of All the time the sick man and the lady remained in their seats. When the maa hack and reported a sick man, James called ont, * We don't disturb siek men?’ snd when they came to the lady he said, ‘We don't disturb ladies—sit still raadame.” While this was going on one of the monuted men rode around the coach once or twice and examined one of the wheel horses very closely. It was a fine sorrel horse. After eyeing the horse all over he called out to the driver, who was still holding the lines, ‘Get dowa and un- harne:s that off horse. The driver was slow about moving, and the fellow leveled his pistol st him and said: ‘I say, get down snd unharness that off horse.” The driver did as he was ordered. When the horss was un. harnessed the robber dismounted and, placing his own saddle and bridle on the staze-horse, rods him up the road a few hundred yards and back at a rapid gait. Coming back to the coach. he said: ‘Yon can hitch up that other horse,” and the driver proceeded to do so. That was an Arkansas horse rade. I forgot to say that the man who went through us took « fancy to my fur overcoat, and told me to haui it off, but Jesse James heard him and said: ‘No you don't; that wonld lead to our detection sure.’ All this ocoupicd about hslf an hour, When the robbers got {hrough they told us we conld go, and they rode off together. We afterward heard of them in the direction of Terss, They looked like sturdy young farmers and were not maske beyond wearing slouch bats well pulled down, and Jesse James had a woolen comforter wound round the lower part of his face. During the entire per- formance they affected a kind of polite- ness with all their roughness, and tried fo create the impression that they were gentlemanly highwaymen. After they left wo gathered up the mail and seat- tered baggage and continued on to Hot Springs, The news of the robbery created intense excitement there and the whole population turned out to pur- sue the robbers, but nothing ever came of it. - Governor B has placed the wateh with the Engen Jacoard J company for exh s dou be inspected by hundreds of curious ones. A be given the officers at St Mrs. James threatened fo sue covery, It is vot likely that though. The watch is in ning order and shows from its quondam possessor, Pirates of the Past, , As the archi o east of Greece had sheltered the es of the Turkish corsairs, 80 the many islands, erooked channels, reefs hidden from all but the ant food of the Antilles, Indies the safest place in pirates to pursue their new and wild regions, in the century, bad flocked bad men snd venturers from all over When the wars and their plunder died ont after the camps led by Cortez, Pizarro, Balboa and 1 rest of the Spanish many roffians seized vessels force, or stole them, snd turned robbers of the ses. - As a rule farms and families on some island, only went freebooting » portion of year, st first, The Jarge island of or St. Domingo, was then settled colonists who were of three 4 classes—farmers, hunters and men. The last class of men apn time in the wild interior of the island capturing, herding or Satin, The Su to the » ent only now an to get sup, then returned to the wilderness for several months of absence again. Final. ly, a war baving srisen between and other islands, the trade of cattle-men was el, sad large numbers of them the freebooters, who then hecame extremely numerous snd formidable; and so largely was this due to their new friends that they lost their old name, and were known by the name of the cattle-hunters—Buocan- neer, St. Domingo became the of ths baocanneers, but sev. small islands were also owned and controlled thems, They were made vp of men of all nations, but were chiefly Span. iards, Datch and negroes. They were thousands in number, fleets of ships and boats, well aud had their regular ehief and under. officers. The most voted of these chiefs, perhaps, was Morgan, who was an. an ishm aglishiain. ashols of wok One a Seistiic fe ; 13 i America, seize them. Very often the crews were will ing, or were compelled to join the pirates; bat mes all were killed or carried into slavery. Merchsnt hips, therefore, all went heavily armed im- those waters, and many were the bloody battles fought, This work, however, employed only a portion of the bueean and too uncertain a means of th to suit sail away to pillage rome coast. was hardly an island in the West Indies from which, in this way, they did not threat of destruction of the people. The mai also suffered from the mazandem, Great sition, like gens ‘enezuels, Panams on { Isthmus, Merida in Yucatan, snd | Havana, Cubs, were attacked by armies | of numbering tens of | thousands of men. Sometimes their fortifications held good, and the war beaten back; but sooner or later these cities, and others, Satie) were men, women, children, slaves—every- body—uutil they would tell where their money and jewels were buried. It is sickening to read of the crimes and suffering committed by these wickedest of men. For years and years they | were the terror of the whole Car- | ribbean befion. Nor did their enormous | riches do a particle of real good, | for they wasted it all, the moment they | got home, in wild rioting, so that the | spoils earned by months of hardship, | and exposure, and wounds, sad danger | of death, would bs spent in a week of L carousing. Before the end of the cen- | tury, however, the o¢mbined naval | forces of all the nations interested in | she commerce of the new world broke | depredations ceased, Their story is one {of the wildest, most romantic, but most | terrible pictures in the history of the | world. — Wide Awake, we WISE WORDS, Nothing comes of violence. With. out grace the works of the law are naught, Never exhibit too great a familiarity with a new acquaintance; you may give , offense. Happiness is always the inaccessible castle which sinks in ruin when we set | foot on it. | No farniture is so charming as books, | even if you never open them or read a | single word. | The power to do great things gener- | ally arises from the willingness to do | little things. : {Tn all sciences the errors precade the | truths, and it is better they should go | first than last. { . Without courage there cannot be truth, and without truth there can be no other virtne, We judge ourselves by what we feel - by what we have already done. He who comes up to his own idea of greatness must always have had a very low standard of it in his mind. Instruction does not prevent waste of time or mistakes; and mistakes them- selves ure often the best teachers of all. Beware what you say of others, be- cause you only reveal yourself thereby. A man doesn't think to look behind the door unless he has sometimes stood there himself. Experience always leads to modesty when wisely used, It never leads to boastful confidence or to self-idolatry. It has been too often rebuked to claim infallibility, and too often humiliated to ge up a primacy that may not be chal- enged, Sometimes there are living beings in potato as beautiful tan eality surpasses ima } 890 breathing, brightening and moving before our eyes sights demer to our hearts than any we ever beheld in the land of sleep. The reputation of a man is like shadow—gigantie when it precedes and pigmy follows. One of the features of a Roman his him cro fp * One maid, to order, #0 to spe nF if £ k ’ E. FFE rindi fii EF ; ; 1, i i fn E £ i ; £ i . : i ; i 1 = : 18 : 3 | i i i E E bik i i il H 8 Land g £ E i if} 3 it i if ; 8 : £ 2 7 5 & g i i i i: 8 ~ EE 3. i {4 Ti §Fa i Ey : 'B 1 EE gh gEE 4 2E Efe after the eccparation Sangali mallet and strack is adv ry head with it. It chanced ¢ bers gL As 0 , 80 3 10g blow he fell over the side a headlong to the n dying soon after he Sangali narrowly esc off the ay af!
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers