Love and Time,
Two lovers watched the sapset die
In happy elonds that floated west;
His lips caressed her silken hair,
Her head lay nestling on his breast.
“Ah, love,” he said, “I see that men
Should make no count of hours and days;
They live most when their sleepy hearts
Do leap like mine in proud amaze.”
“Yes, yos,” sha whispered, “all in vain
I hear the bells of hollow towers;
But your heart swiftly beating here
Tells all too well the flying hours,”
The Tryst,
There was not a cloud in the deep blue aky,
Nor a foaming crest on the sea ;
And their breath came noiselessly.
The soft sweet rays of the harvest moon,
The beaving waters kissed,
And the tight was shed on the Abbey head,
And the tombstones that watch the quiet dead.
And in calm I kapt our tryst.
The blank black sky, and the blank black sea,
Blent in the angry night ;
The wild winds met, where the waters fret,
In a belt of luminous light.
They thundered along the hollow strand,
Where the rain like a python hissed ;
And near and far, from rook and soar,
Bang the mighty challenge of Nature's war,
And in storm I kept our tryst.
White, weird and ghastly crept the tog,
Over river, and moor, and coast ;
Each fast.moored boat, on the harbor afloat,
Loomed like a threatening ghost.
The sea lay muttering suilenly,
Under the veiling mist ;
and the buoy-bell
fongue,
Where the tide on the lip of the rook was flang,
And in gloom I kept our tryst,
For while holy grief and loving trust
With me kept wateh together,
I reckon not, 1, of ses or sky ;
Our hearts
So 1 know, #
To the spirit gr
In faith I kept our tryst.
Al the Year Round.
A WOOING BY PROXY.
ng back inadeep crim-
th a white dress sweeping
ng folds about her.
y two or three men with
he has grown
and which is
© joyous smiles of
i'n whom he had
loved 80} ¢ is watching her
from the opi of the salon as
he stands be ostess, and he
tells himself r the last time. He
is going to | resently and he knows
¥ Just how oc ¢ will lark
eyes t never met his without
confess t she loved 1} He
Knows hat he will and what
& Wii say
she will answer, and the
ole
so different
the Jeanne J
Foy
raise the «
IN.
re is no need
of haste in this last scene of his tragedy.
“A man should know when he is
beaten,” he is thinking, while he smiles
vaguely in reply to Madame De Soules
commonplaces, “There more stu-
pidity than courage in not accepting a
defeat while there is yet time to retreat
with some dignity. For six weeks 1
have shown her, with a directness that
has, I dare say, been amusing to our
mutual friends, that after ten years
absence my « ct in returning to
Paris is her he cannot avoid
1 ne in pt +, but sl
refused to receive me when I
on her or to permit me a word
I have been a fool to
forget these years in which 1
have regretted ber she has naturally
despised me, but at least it is not just
of her to refuse me a hearing.” The
moment he has been waiting for is
Cf The little court about her dis-
perses is but one man
side her, neces around with
a look of 1 against the con-
timtance « : 3
De Palissier has escaped from his
hostess in an instant, and the next he
is murmuring, with the faintest sus-
icion of a tremor in his voice, “ Will
Miramon permit me a
is
Sie has
call up
with her alone.
[ that all
Mae,
be-
“ Thanks, M. De Palissier, but I am
not dancing this evening,” she replies,
with exactly the glance and tone he
expects.
“ Will madame give me a few mo-
ments serious conversation?” and this
time the tremor is distinct, for even
the nineteenth century horror of melo-
drama cannot keep a man’s nerves
quite steady when he is asking a ques- |
ng
pends.
“One does not come to
serious conversation—" she
lightly.
*“ Where may I come, then
terrupts, eagerly.
“ Nowhere. There is no need for
serious conversation between us, M. De |
Palissier,” she replies, haughtily, and |
rising she takes the arm of the much- |
edified gentleman beside her and moves
away.
It is all as he has prophesied to him- |
self, and yet for a moment the lights |
swim dizzily before him and the pas-|
sionate sweetness of that Strauss waltz |
the band is playing stabs his heart like |
a knife.
realize that he is standing quite mo- |
tionless, gazing, with despair in his |
eyes, after Madame De Miramon's |
slender white-clad figure, and that two |
or three people, who have seen and
balls for |
begins,
on
:
he in- |
amused pity which sentimental ca-|
tastrophes always inspire in the spec- |
tators.
Some one touches his arm presently |
cille De Beaujen, the young sister of |
Madame De Miramon, whom he re- |
members years ago as a child, and with |
whom he has danced several times this!
winter. |
“And our waltz, monsieur?”’ she!
asks, gayly. “Do not tell me you have |
forgotten it. That is evident enough, |
but you should not admit it.”
“Mille pardons, mademoiselle,” he |
mutters, hurriedly.
“1 am very good to-night,” she says,
putting her hand on his mechanically |
extended arm. “Though the waltz is!
half over, there is still time for you to
get me an ice.”
So they make their way through the
salon, she talking lightly and without |
pausing for a reply, while he, vaguely |
grateful to her for extricating him
from an awkward position, wonders
also that she should care to be so kind
to a man whom her sister has treated
with such marked dislike,
The refreshment-room is almost
empty, and she seats herself and mo-
tions him to a chair beside her when
he has brought her an ice.
“ Do you think, M. le Marquis, that
it was only to eat ices with you that 1
have forced my society so resolutely
upon you?” she asks, with a look of
earnestness very rare on her bright,
coquettish face,
“I think you an angel of compas-
sion to an old friend of your child-
hood, Mademoiselle Lucille—"
“1t was compassion, but more for
my sister than for you,” she says,
gravely.
“ Your sister!” he echoes, bitterly.
“Tt has not occurred to me that Madame
De Miramon is in need of compassion,
and yonrs is too sweet to be wasted—"
« Chut, monsieur,” she interrupted.
«Forget that I am as fond of pretty
speeches as most young women and
i
|
{
|
{
|
i
3
|
VOLUME XV,
NUMBER 35.
mon's sister, who believes that much
as she loves her, you love her even
| more"
For the second thine this evening De
Palissier forgets possible observers
| and elasps both the girl's slender hands
{in his, as he murmurs, unsteadily, “God
{ bless you I"
* You forget that we have an audi
ence, monsieur,” she says, withdraw.
ing her hands quickly, but with a
smile of frank comradeship, “I have
! a story to tell vou, and not much time
to tell it in, Years ago, when Jeanne
{ left her convent on becoming flancee
to M. De Miramon, she met you at her
first ball, and you loved each other, It
of your house and only a sous-lieuten-
the families were furious; but all
would have ended as well as a fairy
tale if you had been reasonable, Jeanne
promised any amount of patience, but
away and marry
defiance of her parents;
tormented her with
and shamed her with
suspicions until she dreaded those se
¢ret meetings almost as much as she
longed for them, At last, after making
a more violent quarrel than usual, you
exchanged from your regiment at
Versailles to one in Algiers, and left
her no refuge from the reproaches of
our father and mother but to marry
M. de Miramom, He might have re
fused to marry her after hearing her
confess, as she did, that she had given
her heart to you, and that only your
desertion had induced her to consent to
their marriage. But he
had a better revenge than that. He
married her, and for eight years he
tortured her in every way that a jeal
ous and cruel man can torture a proud
pure woman. He opened all her let
ters, he made spies of her servants, and
not a day passed that he did not make
some mention of your name. Our pa-
rents died within a few months of the
marriage, and 1 was at my convent.
There was nothing to be done with her
misery but endure it, knowing that she
owed it all to your impatience. Can
you wonder that she is unforgiving?"
He is leaning on
between them with folded arms and
down-bent eves, and he is very pale,
even through the bronze of ten African
summers.
“1 loved her always—" he says, al-
most inaudibly; then pauses; nor does
he finish his sentence, though she
waits for him to do so.
“You loved her? You could not
hav® wrecked her life more utterly if
vou had hated her. Can you wonder
that she has grown to fear the thought
of love that has been so cruel to her as
yours and her husband’s? Monsieur
my brother-in-law died two years ago
God is so good!” continues Lucille,
fiercely. “Since then Jeanne has been
at peace, and she
terror from disturbing the calm which
has come to her after such storms. She
»
An
you mn
sO you
doubts
shrinks with absolute
ou, she avoids you, because—
tell you why #”
can see his lips quiver even
under the heavy mustache, but he
neither speaks nor raises his eyes.
“She loves you,” murmurs Lucille,
just aloud.
He lifts his eves now and looks at
her dumbly for an instant, then, rising
abruptly, walks away.
“11 a des beaux yeux, mon Dieu!”
she thinks, with a thrill of wonder
that Jeanne should have had the
courage to refuse him anything in the
days when they were young together.
He comes back presently,
“My child,” he says, very gently,
“ do not try to make me believe that,
unless you are very sure, for if I once
believe it again, I-—-1-—"
“Iam as sure as that I live that
Jeanne has never ceased to love you,
and that you can force her to confess
it “f you will make love to me.”
#“]? You?
me!” with a rush of color into his dark
y
11
Lace,
“Do you think so ill of Jeanne's
sister 7” she asks, softly.
“Pardon. I am scarcely myself, and
[ cannot imagine how—"
“Jeanne will not receive you be-
cause she knows her heart and is afraid
of it. She fears that you will destroy
the hard-won peace she values so
highly, But you are wealthy, dis-
tinguished, the head of your name—a
were ten years ago, and she ean find
no reason for refusing you as my
suitor if I consent, and as my chape-
ron she must be present at all our
meetings, You begin to understand ?
jealousy ; make her remember—make
her regret.”
“But, forgive me, when one has
loved a woman for ten years,” with a
other.”
“If there were, monsieur, I should
never have proposed my plot,” she re-
plies, with dignity. “It is because 1
sister, that I trust you. Dut it is not
with one's heart that one pretends.
cline,”
“Decline!” he echoes, with a pas-
sion none the less intense for its quiet-
ness, “Does a dying man decline his
The
surprises
week
the
next
to proud and pa
well understands, Though it is long
since she has permitted herself to re-
youth except his jealousy, she has be-
she dreaded it, and when she receives
De Palissier’s note asking the consent
of his old friend to his love for her
sister, the pain she feels bewilders and
dismays her. With a smile whose
evnicism is as much for herself as for
him, she gives the note to Lucille, ex-
pecting an instant rejection of the man
whose motive in pursuing them they
had both so misunderstood. But with
a gay laugh, “Then my sympathy has
been without cause,” the girl cries,
“ By all means let him come, my Jeanne,
It cannot wound you, who have long
ago ceased to regret him; but he is
the best parti in Paris, and tres bel
homme for his age.”
It is quite true there can be no ob-
jection to the wealthy and distinguished
Marquis de Palissier if Lucille is will-
ing—none but the pain at her heart
which she is ashamed even to confess
to herself. So a note is written fixing
an hour for his first visit, and Madame
De Miramon prepares herself to meet
the man whom she last saw alone in
all the passionate anguish of a lover's
quarrel. Is this wild flutter in her
throat a sign of the peace she has re-
think of me only as Jeannie De Mira-
solved to possess? Thank (God! she
| can at least promise herself that what.
{ever she may suffer, neither he nor
Lauaille shall guess it,
There is a sound of wheels in the
| courtyard, and she rises, with a hasty
| glance at her fair reflection in a
| mirror,
“His old friend!” she murmurs,
scornfully. “I dare say I look an old
woman beside Lucille"
Then she turns with a look of grace.
ful welcome, for the door is thrown
open, and a servant announces:
“M. le Marquis de Palissier.”
“Nothing could give me greater
pleasure than to receive As my sister's
suitor the old friend of whom the
world tells me such noble things.” She
utters her little speech as naturally as
{ though she had not rehearsed it a dozen
times, and holds out her pretty hand
to him.
To her surprise he does not take it.
How should she guess that he dares
not trust himself to touch calmly the
A PRINCESS OF ROMANCE,
The Story of the Widaw of the Last Elector
of Hesse,
The London Telegraph says: Of
the strange life stories that may be
gleaned from that portion of the * Al
manach de Gotha" dealing with dynas-
tic and personal facts, few are more
romantic than that which has just been
concluded by the demise of Gertrude
von Hanau, the widow of the last
elector of Hesse, Her titular descrip-
tion, taken from the German eivilstands-
register, or official obituary record, is in
itself the skeleton of a three-volume
novel, It runs as follows: “Gertrude,
Princess of Hanau, Ceuntess of
Schaumburg, nee Falkenstein, divorcee
Lehman."
This interesting personage, who died
kiss any time these ten years ?
“You are too good, madame,” he
{ replies, very low ; and she reflects that
he is of course a little embarrassed.
“1 am afraid you had much to forgive
in those days so long ago, but time, I
trust, has changed me.”
“1t would be sad indeed if time did
not give us wisdom and coldness in
exchangefor all it takes from us,” she
' says, with a quick thrill of pain that
he should speak of ten years as if it
were an eternity.
“ Not coldness,” he exclaimed, com.
enty-seventh year, was the daughter of
a well-to-do wine merchant established
at Bonn about the commencement of
the present century. Endowed by na-
ture with extraordinary personal at.
tractions, she had several offers of
marriage while still in her teens, and
bestowed her hand, some fifty-
eight years ago, upon a young
Prussian paymaster called Leh
mann, then serving in the
Seventh lancers, a regiment quar-
tered at Marienwerder, in West Prus.
person she paid a visit to her parents
in her native town, and during her
eves that make her feel a girl again,
“If you could see my heart, you"
“ May I enter, my sister?” asks the
from behind the portiere at so for
tunate a moment for the success of her
plot that it is to be feared she had
been eavesdropping.
De Palissier turns at
presses her hand to his lips.
“ Mademoiselle,” he says, tenderly,
“1 am at your feet.”
Then begins a charming little comedy
of love-making, in which Lucille plays
her role with pretty coquetry, and he
with infinite zeal.
And the chaperon bends over her
lace-work and hears the caressing
tones she thought she had forgotten,
and sees the tender glances she im-
agined she had ceased to regret—all
given to her young sister in her unre-
garded presence. = Dear God! how is
she to keep the peace she so prays for,
if her future is to be haunted by this
ghost from her past?
tient and used to suffering, but at
length she can endure no longer, and
not daring to leave the room she
once and
where she is at least beyond hearing
There is an instant pause between
the conspirators, and while De Palis- |
sier's eyes wistfully follow Madame De
Miramon, Lucille seizes her opportu- |
nity with a promptness that would
have done credit to a Richelieu or a
Talleyrand, or any other prince of
schemers.
monsieur I” she mur-
has been cold to me
came,
“Courage,
murs. “She
ever since
note You
your
would make a
premier at the Francais, only when
vou say anything very tender, do re-
member to look at me instead of
Jeanne.” And she breaks into a laugh
so utterly amused that he presently
of Frederick William, electoral prince
bavalry in garrison at Bonn. The
young officer, who had quitted his
father's court in consequence of a
quarrel with the reigning elector’s
“friend,” Countess Reichenbach, and
was, oddly enough, notorious for his
disapproval of princely peccadilloes,
fell desperately in love with *“ Mrs
to make practical recantation of his
high i in her favor, by carry-
ing her off from her husband. The
fair Gertrude, however, promptly gave
exclusively matrimonial. She was, in-
his serene highness that her husband,
Lehmann, was a sensible and
manageable fellow, open to reasons of
a certain sort, and that in all proba-
judiclons persuasion
would convince him of the expediency
of parting with his handsome spouse
for a consideration. Negotiations were
‘opened between the husbands in esse
d in posse, resulting in a hard cash
transaction, whereby Lehmann became
pocketed this comfortable little com-
pensation he proceeded to institute a
ivorce suit against his wife upon the
ment,” and as soon as the degree of
scheidung had been pronounced, Ger-
trude Falkenstein, ex-Lehmann, was
ferred upon her the title of Countess
von Schaumburg. The wedding took
place in the autumn of 1831, the year in
Which popular discontent with the
elector William's regime in Hesse com-
tate to nominate his son co-regent-—a
step which practically amounted to his
abdication in favor of Frederick Wil-
mirth causes an odd blot in the poor
chaperon’s writing.
A month has dragged by, wretched-
ly enough both to the conspirators and
has come to an end at last.
| sier to his role if he did not believe
that in surrendering it he must give
beauty—had not long to wait for the
who, by the way, had been compelled
sian service by his brother officers, and
| indifference, has become the one charm
of life to him. Madame De Miramon
| and her sister are spending a week at her
is to accompany them on a riding
party, has arrived a little late, and finds
| both sisters already in the courtyard,
| with some horses and grooms, when he
| enters. Lucille comes to him at once,
| a2 he dismounts, with a look of alarm
| instead of her usual cogquetry.
| “Do not let Jeanne ride Etoile,” she!
| says, anxiously. “She has thrown
| Guillaume this morning.” :
| Madame De Miramon is standing
| beside an old groom, who is holding
| the horse in question, and she does not
{ look at her sister or De Palissier as
| they approach.
| “Let me ride Etoile and take my
to-day, madame,” De Palissier
I says, eagerly. “I should like to
| master a horse who has thrown so ex-
| cellent a groom as Guillaume.”
| “So should 1,” she says, with a hard
| little laugh, and she steps on the block.
“Jeanne!” cries Lucille,
“I entreat you for your sister's sake.
| She will be terribly alarmed,” De Pal-
| issier says, hurriedly.
“Then you must console her. The
| greater her alarm, the greater your de-
lightful task, monsieur,” and she looks
| a defiant pain in her eyes
| like a stags at bay. “I shall ride
| Etoile.”
| “Then I say that you shall not,” he
| answers, putting his arm across the
| saddle, and meeting her eyes with a
| sudden blaze of command in his.
For an instant they gaze at each
other in utter forgetfulness of any
other presence than their own, then
i
i horse
| elose to him,
"
“I hate you!
lowed by De Palissier. In the salon
| sionate pride.
“Leave me!” she says.
you to speak to me.”
He is very pale, but the light of trif
umph is in his eyes, and like most men,
being triumphant, he is cruel.
imperiously.
dropping the eyes which she knows are
betraying her.
holding out his arms. * Does it hurt
have loved you all these years?” |
“ But Lucille,” she falters, movin
away from him, but with eyes tha
dered joy.
doorway.
your happiness, my Jeanne, which
would never have succeeded if you had
known your sister as well as she knew
JOU.
tent with the wreck of any man’s heart §
—fi donc! When my day comes,
#¢ Like Alexander, I will reign.
reign alone.’
And I will
Harper's Weekly.
sian capital her new mother-in-law, the
electress—an aunt of the present Ger-
thea-
William
thenceforth not be admitted to that
place of entertainment. Toward the
end of the year the aged electress, ig-
was enthusiastically cheered by the au-
vate box. This demonstration was
continued in the streets when she left
the house, and led to the populace
guard, with drawn sabers, at his se
rene highness’ express command. The
Hessians never forgave their elector
for giving this barbarous order. By
causing his subjects to be ridden and
cut down for cheering his own mother
~—a& venerable and deeply respected
princess — Frederick William utterly
destroyed his popularity in the realm of
his ancestors. Between 1831 and 1850
Jountess Schaumburg bore her hus-
band seven sons and two daughters,
Princess of Hanau by the emperor of
Austria. On the elector’s death in
1875 she inherited the whole of his
enormous fortune, invested in state
securities and railway stock, which
will be divided among her eight surviv-
ing children, the youngest of whom
is a lieutenant in the Fourth regiment
of Austrian lancers,
Riis
The Howling Monkey,
We will begin with the howling
monkeys, which are the largest found
in America, and are celebrated for the
loud voice of the males, Often in the
noco a tremendous noise is heard in the
assemblage of wild beasts were all roar-
may be heard for miles, and it is loud-
other animal, yet it is all produced by
branches of a lofty tree. They are
enabled to make this extraordinary
noise by means of an organ that is
ossessed by no other animal. The
Jou jaw is unusually deep, and this
makes room for a hollow bony vessel
ated under the root of the tongue, and
having an opening into the windpipe,
by which the animal can force air into
voice, acting something like the hollow
celebrated
traveler, Waterton, to declare that
i
{
{
i
{
|
their origin in the inférnal regions.
The howlers are large and stout-bodied
monkeys with bearded faces, and very
strong and powerful grasping tails,
They inhabit the wildest forests; they
ave very shy and are seldom taken cap-
tive, though they are less active than
many other American monkeys.—Pop-
ular Science Monthly.
A new industry reported is that pf
sending frogs to England,
! SCIENTIFIC NOTES,
Selentific men in Japan are discuss.
ing the possibility of utilizing the ine
ternal heat of the earth,
A Belgian engineer is said to have
invented a process by which he can
weld steel at a red heat. He keeps an
essential portion of method a
secret,
his
There are 112 species of woods in
North Carelina. In the entire South
ern States there are only
other varieties which are not found in
that State,
Mr, Villiers Stuart records that when
the mummy of the great warrior
Thothmes 111. was unswathed the body
was found to be unusually short and
slight. Hardly had a rapid photograph
been taken of the figure than the fra.
gile remains, as if in protest against
the violation of their rest, vanished
into dust,
Flax is more extensively and more
| successfully cultivated in Belgium than
in any other European country, partic
ularly in South Brabant, Hainault and
West and East Flanders, in which the
most beautiful flax in Europe is pro-
duced, employed for the manufacture
of the Brussels lace, and sold for that
purpose,
Before an English committee of in.
quiry, Dr. John Horkinson has ex.
pressed the belief that the whole of
the electricity generated by one horse-
power would not do more than boil a
gallon and a half of water an hour.
This opinion was given as evidence
that electricity is not likely to ever be-
come economically useful for heating
purposes,
Monkeys, says Alfred R. Wallace,
are usually divided into three kinds—
apes, monkeys and baboons ; but these
do not include the American monkeys,
which are really more different from
all those of the Old World than any
of the latter are from each other,
monkey tribe into two families, one
having its habitat in the Old World
and the other in the New World.
———
Coronations,
The present czar of Russia, after
having announced that his coronation
would take place with great pomp at
Moscow, in the middle of August, sud-
denly postponed the ceremony to an
indefinite period. Several reasons were
alleged for this singular decision. It
was said that the health of the czarina
was such as to make it necessary to
postpone it. It was declared that the
| czar was unwilling to mark the oceca-
sion with concessions as to Russian
land, which the peasants expected and
demanded. Finally it was gravely
whispered that the czar feared to be
crowned, lest such an event would give
the Nihilists an opportunity to attempt
his life. The latter surmise is a very
likely one. It is known that the author-
ities of Moscow have plainly told the czar
that if he was crowned in that city
they could not answer for the preser-
vation of order or for his personal
safety. Preparations to attempt the
czar's life have been detected in the
ancient capital of Muscovy ; and more
than one plot to murder him on the
day of coronation has been unearthed.
It may be that the Czar Alexander
111. will never be crowned. But this
is merely the omission of a traditional,
but after all, an empty ceremony. It
does not add at all to a monarch’s au-
thority to rule to be crowned. It is
| merely a matter of historic pomp and
| pageantry; it confers no new right or
prerogative. Many sovereigns have
reigned through long periods and have
died uncrowned.
Coronation is, indeed, a very ancient
as well as a very imposing rite, It is
known, for instance, that Solomon was
crowned with great display; and it is
probable that the Assyrian and Egyp-
tian kings were all crowned. Corona-
tion, too, in almost every country and
period has been a sacred as well as a
political ceremony. The head of the
sovereign has been anointed with oll,
which signifies his consecration to the
service of God as well as of the
state,
The old Saxon kings of England
were wont to be crowned, not at Lon-
don, but in the ancient and august
{ cathedral of Winchester, or in that
{lovely riverside town, Kingston-on-
{ Thames, Since the time of the Nor-
man kings, however, the sovereigns of
| England have always been crowned in
| Westminster Abbey; and since the
| time of Edward the First each sov-
| ereign has been crowned on the same
throne, beneath which rests the “Stone
| of Destiny” brought from Scotland by
| the great Edward,
{land to date the
i king from the day, not of his
| accession, but of his coronation.
| Between these two events the sovereign
was called “Lord of England,” not
| king, which title he only assumed after
{ he had been duly crowned. This was
{ the case both with Richard the Lion-
| Hearted and his brother John,
| Various reasons have served to
| cause from time to time the omission
{ of the ceremony of coronation. It is
reign of
FOR THE LADIES,
mim
Fancy Haman Hair,
There is at present, says the New
York Sun, a scarcity of fancy human
hair in the market, The scarcest hair
Is pure white, and its value is con-
stantly increasing, and if it is unusual
ly long, that is, from four to five feet,
the dealer can get almost his own
price, while if it is of ordinary length
it is worth from $75 to $100 an ounce,
The fact that pure white hair is the
court coiffure in Europe keeps the de
mand for it very high. Moreover, it is
much prized by American women
whose own hair is white, and who de-
sire to enrich its folds, for white hair
the wearer. There is no fancy market
for gray hair. It is too common, It
is used to work into wigs of persons
who are growing old. What is de
washed-out pale red or a dull blonde,
relation to red hair, except in the vivid.
ness of its coloring. The demand for
the virgin gold color is great in the
capitals of Europe. A woman who
gets a coiffure of it Is considered for-
tunate. A young Hyooklyn laly of
much beauty possesses a splend {1 wig,
which she chanced to find in a shop in
Nice,
scanty supply of dull hair. It did not
take her an instant to decide to have
her hair cut short and to wear the
wig.
There are four type-colors of hair—
white, blonde, black and brown-—and
each of these has been sub-divided
into sixteen different shades. The
commonest types are black and brown,
and these are cheap. Golden brown is
much in favor, as is pure black, or what
hair, streaked with gray, shows in con-
trast with the false covering. Next to
pure white hair the demand is for hair
of the color of virgin gold. There are
many braids made of hair colored to
meet the demand with certain prepara
tions, but they prove unsatisfactory,
Many foolish women have sought to
change the color of their own tresses,
but they have uniformly repented the
attempt,
urest blonde type will sell for from
300 to $500, It is said that the Em-
exsctly matched her own,
from France, Switzerland and Ger-
many. The country fairs are attended
by agents of merchants in London,
selves into the favor of young girls
and persuade them to sell their tresses
for glass ornaments or other gewgaws,
Only at intervals is a prize like a per- |
fect suit of golden hair obtained, and |
it is said that there are orders ahead in |
the shops of Paris and London for all |
the golden hair that can be obtained |
in the next seven years. When a
stock of hair is collected by traveling |
agents it is assorted, washed and |
cleaned. Then each hair is drawn |
through the eye of a needle and pol- |
ished. When the stock is ready for |
the market in Europe, the nobility is
permitted to make the first choice.
Fashion Notes.
The new French coiffure is formed of
flat bandeaux.
A scarf arranged as a pelerine is a
favorite drapery for the shoulders,
Skirts of evening dresses are covered
with foar flounces of embroidered tulle.
Nearly all shoulder capes have a
thick ruche of lace material around the
neck.
The newest bodices are glove-fitting,
with large and full paniers around the
hips,
Freshly gathered flowers are used to
trim the hats and corsages of country
toilets,
Bonnet-strings are made of very wide
ribbon, tied in a butterfly bow under
the chin,
Race and coaching toilets are made
of the gayest, brightest and richest
materials,
white lace only, are much worn by
young girls,
The corsages of some very handsome
costumes are laced up in front instead
of buttoning.
None but home-made dresses, and
yery ugly ones at that, are inflated
with erinoline.
There is an effort to revive wreaths
headdresses and low
clusters behind the ears.
A Paris fashion is to carry very
large fans in the carriage for sun-
shades, instead of parasols,
Flowers are worn to excess not only
on all festival occasions, but also in the
carriage toilet.
The shirred or gauged Heligolanda
be crowned, for fear of some ea-
tastrophe similar to that which thé
present czar is now threatened. Na-
{ poleon I. had no such fear, and was
crowned with great magnificence at
Notre Dame,
The ceremony of coronation is still
nearly every monarchy in Christendom ;
but a king is just as much a king with
out it as with it, It is the oath which
every sovereign takes at the moment
of his accession which endows him
with the right and the responsibility of
ruling over his subjects.— Youth's
Companion.
a I,
Egypt as It Is,
The Egypt of to-day is soon seen :
Arab towns of mud huts, long lines of
loaded camels and donkeys, and their
Arab boys and women begging for
bucksheesh ; the fields of the Nile and
the great river itself ; the mosque and
minaret ; the hooded women and tur-
baned, long-robed men; the acacia
luxury along with poverty, dirt with
despotism ; all the plagues, including
an abnormal government ; sugar mills
ture, with a sunset that never fails to
Cox.
day, especially in the warm summer
mornings, when numerous insects and
worms are out, Make them indus-
they have done their level best to get a
living. It is the active and not the
stupid hen that lays the most eggs,
ward,
Black and terra-cotta are the colors
most useful for silk stockings, as they
can now be worn with almost any dress
of the stylish shades without being too
striking.
Among splendid novelties sent over
from Paris are embroideries of metallic
bullion and imitation jewels, incrusta-
tions in relief upon velvets, brocades,
damasses and satins,
Flowers have almost driven feathers
out of favor for trimming hats, A
full wreath of roses, without green
leaves, is tied by long ribbons around
the crown of wide-brimmed manila
hats.
Coaching parasols are made gay with
embroideries or paintings of hunting,
sporting, equestrian and pastoral
scenes, flowers, birds and immense gilt
monograms or coats of arms or em-
blematic devices,
Among other fancies is that of
fastening the corsage with tiny, bullet-
shaped buttons, set on less than an
inch apart. The buttonholes are made
by machinery, Sometimes there is a
double row of buttons.
Satin ribbon three inches wide is
Pointed belts out-
Black failles, satins, poplins, watered
|
i
}
i
grenadines, silk gauses and tulle are all
in high fashion. Black silk skirts cov-
ered with grenadine plisses and bouil-
lonnes, and accompanied by silk or
satin casaques or jacquettes trimmed
with black Spanish lace and jet, make
thoroughly elegant toilets, enabling the
wearer to vary them by colored trim-
mings and floral garniture if desired.
on light dresses of one or more
such as pale blue merveilleux and pale
pink moire; the painted lace, colored
| to correspond with these two shades,
| would, however, only be used to trim
the principal portions of the dress
the sleeves, bodice and edgings, to the
drapery. The flounces, panels or any-
thing requiring a large amount of gar-
niture, would be of the same lace with
the designs left uncolored,
A Ride on a Crocodile,
and observer, has made the most ex-
tended observations upon the habits of
the South American crocodiles. They
were fished for by wire hooks formed
(of four pieces of hard wood a foot
{ long, barbed at both ends; to these
| was affixed an animal of some kind,
and with rope attached the bait was
held over the river or pond, and if
once taken the struggles of the cres-
ture only served to hook it the more
firmly, Waterton was probably the
| first to ride a cayman, and the follow-
ing is his account of a capture novel
in the extreme: “I placed all the peo-
ple at the end of the rope and ordered
them to pull till the cayman appeared
on the surface of the water; and
then, should he plunge, to slacken
the rope and let him go again in
the deep. I now took the mast of
the canoe in my hand (the sail
being tied around the mast), and sank
down upon one knee, about four yards
from the water's edge, determined to
thrust it down his throat in case ke
gave me an opportunity; I certainly
felt somewhat uncomfortable in this
situation, and I thought of Cerberus
on the other side of the Styx ferry.
The people pulled the cayman to the
surface; he plunged furiously assoon as
he arrived in these upper regions and
immediately went below again on their
| slacking the rope. I saw enough not
to fall in love at first sight. I now
told them we would run all risks and
| have him on land immediately. They
| pulled again, and out he came—* mon-
| strum, horrendum, informe” This
| was an interesting moment. I kept
| my position firmly, with my eye fixed
| steadfast on him.
| “By this time the cayman was
| within two yards of me. 1 saw he
| was in a state of fear and perturba
tion; I instantly dropped the mast,
(sprang up and jumped on his back,
turning half round as I vaulted, so
| that 1 gained my seat with my face in
| a right position. I immediately seized
his forelegs and by main force
| twisted them on his back; thus they
served me for a bridle He now
| seemed to have recovered from his
surprise, and probably fancying him-
| self in hostile company, he began to
plunge furiously and lashed the sand
with his long and powerful tail. I
was out of reach of the strokes of it
by being near his head. He continued
to plunge and strike, and nade my
seat very uncomfortable. It must
have been a fine sight for sn unoceu-
pied spectator. The people roared out
in triumph, and were so vociferous
that it was some time before they
heard me tell them to pull me and
| my beast of burden further aland.
{1 was apprehensive the rope
| might break, and then there would
{have been every chance :. going
{ down to the regions under wi. tr with
| the cayman. The people now « gged
| us about forty yards on the sand; '. was
| the first and last time I was ever on a
{eayman's back. After re at-
| tempts to regain his liberty the cay-
man gave in and became tranquil
through exhaustion. I now managed
to tie up his jaws and firmly se
cured his forefeet in the position I had
held them. We had now another
| severe struggle for superiority, but he
| was soon overcome, and again remained
quiet. While some of the e were
pressing upon his head and shoulders
I threw myself on his tail, and by
keeping it down in the sand prevented
him from kicking up anot dust.
He was finally conveyed to the canoe,
and then to the place where we had
| placed our hammocks. They cut his
| throat, and after breakfast was over
| commenced the dissection.”
A Consumptive’s Fight for Life,
A. H. Barnes, of Reno, Nevada,
fights off consumption by wearing a
silver tube which passes between the
ribs into the lungs. In 1849 Barnes, then
living in Sycamore, DeKalb county,
Illinois, was declared an incurable con-
sumptive. The Jung was tapped and
he recovered. In 1563 he was again
taken down by the disease, when he
once more resorted to the tube and has
worn it constantly ever since, There
is a daily discharge of matter. Mr.
Barnes is a man of very regular and
temperate habits, does not use tobacco
in any form nor stimulants of any
kind, hardly ever uses any medicines,
excepting sometimes a little iron for
the blood ; is always feeling well when
the hole in his side is open, sometimes
feeling a heaviness there, but has got
used to that. This case is certainly
worthy the attention of medical men.
It seems to give a man a new lease of
life even when apparently as good as
dead.
When Mr. Barnes conceived the idea
of tapping his lung all the physicians
but one scouted it as a thing that
would prove fatal. However, he per-
suaded Dr. Woodman to perform the
operation. In 1863 Mr, Barnes was in
Honey Lake valley, and was on the
brink of the grave. Now, again, the
resident physicians were opposed to
the idea of an incision, and after re-
peated appeals for an operation, which
was refused, Mr, Barnes borrowed a
lance and cut open his side himself.
He then inserted a catcher, and draw-
ing off nearly a quart of matter imme-
diate relief was found. The cough
and expectoration stopped almost in-
stantly, and Mr, Barnes was soon upon
his feet again. Thus he has prolonged
his life over thirty years.
Playing for Their Fingers,
The Malays have at all times been
addicted to gambling. In those days,
in Ceylon, they would “ play away the
ends of their fingers ” over the draught~
board. They would sit down with a
fire burning, whereon was set a pot of
walnut or sesame oil, while beside it
lay a small hatchet with an exceed-
ingly sharp edge. The loser placed his
hand upon a stone, and the winner
chopped off a joint, when the mutilated
finger was plunged into the boiling oil
and thereby cauterized. Some men,
fond of the game, but unskillful or un-
lucky, had every finger shorn of its tip.
—All the Year Round.
nnn AAI AAA,
In 1870 the value of all the men's
clothing manufactured in the United
States was $147,000,000. In 1880
$125,000,000 worth was made in the
five eities of New York, Philadelphia,
Chicago, Boston and Cincinnati,
The Dead.
The dead alone are great,
While heavenly plants abide on earth §
Their soil is one of dewless dearth ;
But when they die a mourning shower
flower
With odors sweet, though late.
The dead alone are dear.
When they are hers strange shadows fall
From our own forms and darken all ;
But when they leave us all the shade
1s round our own sad footsteps made §
And they alone sre dear.
The dead alone are blest.
When they are here clonds make their day,
And bitter snow-falls nip their May ;
But when their tempest time is done
The light and head of Heaven's own sun
Brood on their land of rest.
———————————————————————
HUMOR OF THE DAY,
If the mosquito would only stay to
banal nk te a 0
from which we cannot be. 8
If we could read the secret
of our enemies we should find in
man’s life sorrow and suffering enough
to disarm all hostility.
DY well as it way increase the
strength of virtue. It is in itself only
power, and its value depends on its ap-
plication.
EH —_— ae A
How the Chinese Make ».warf Trees,
We have all known from childhood
how the Chinese cramp their women's
feet and so to make
keepers-at-home; but how they
miniature pines and oaks in
pots for half a century has
been much of a secret.
first and last at the Seat k of vi
wth, endeavoring
oh oe TAY be consistent with the
preservation of life. Take a
plant—say a seedling or cutting
cedar—when only two or three
high, cut off its tap-root as soon
has other rootlets to live upon,
Pa
end of the gen
to rest on a stone within it.
clay islthen put into the pot, much of
it in bits the size of beans, and
enough in kind and quantity
a scanty nourishment to
Water enough is given to keep it in
growth, but not en to excite !
vigorous habit. So, like
application of light and heat.
Chinese pride themselves on the shape
of their miniature trees, they ‘
strings, wires and
other mechanical contrivances Lr
mote symmetry of habit orto or
their pets into odd, fancy figures.
Weight of Million Dollars.
actuary, has computed the weight of
a million dollars in gold and silver coin,
as follows: :
The standard
United States contains of ge
tenths fineness, 258
of nine-tenths of fineness, 412-5
In round numbers the following
represents the weight of a million
lars in the coins named:
of coin.
ROMO «1+ ircuntoniebneiite
Subsidiary silver coin.......covvaveinens
Minor coin, five-cent nickel... os
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on
sent the boatswain back to ask
tives its name, ;
“What do call this ‘ere
mal?” said the sailor to a