rT
FIFTY YEARS APART.
They sit in the winter gloaming,
rh the fire burns brightly between ;
has seventy summers,
And the other just seventeen.
They restin a happy silence
As the shadows deepen fast;
One lives in a coming future,
And one in a long, long past.
Each dreams of a rush of music,
And a gootion whispered low :
One will hear it this evening,
One heard it long ago.
Bach dreams of a loving husband,
Whose brave heart is her's alone;
For one the joy is coming,
For one the joy has flown.
Each dreams of a life of gladness
Spent under the sunny skies;
And both the hope and the mem'ry
Shine in the happy eyes.
Who knows which dream is the brightest
And who knows which is the best?
The sorrow and joy are mingled,
But only the end is the rest.
The Parson’s Daughter.
—
There was a great commotion in Fox-
ville when old Parson Fox died. It
was because Fexville curiosity was on
the qui vive about Joanna, his grand-
child, the sole remaining blossom on
the gnarled old family tree, who was
left quite unprovided for,
«1 declare to goodness,” said Mrs,
Emmons, “I don’t know what is to
become of that girl 1”
“She hasn't no faculty,’ said Sabina
Sexton, the village dressmaker; ‘‘and
never had.”
“ Books possessed no charm for her!"
sighed Miss Dodge, who taught the
Foxville distriet school. ‘‘She always
cried over parsing, and I never could
make her understand cube root.”
“There’s no denyin’ that the old
minister was as near a saint as we often
see in this world,” said Mrs, Luke
Lockedge piously.
““But he hadn’t ought to let Joanna
run loose in the woods and fields the
way he did. Why, I don’t suppose she
ever made a shirt or fried a batch of
fritters in all her life.”
“Is it true,” said Miss Dodge, peer-
ing inquisitively up under her specta-
cle-glasses, ‘‘that she is engaged to
your Simon, Mrs. Lockedge ?”’
Mrs. Leckedge closed her mouth,
shook her head and knitted away until
her needles shone like forked lightning.
**Simon’s like all other young men,
Miss Dodge,” said she, “took by a
pretty face and a pair o’ dark eyes
And they sat on the same bench at
school. And as long as we 8’posed Par-
son Fox had left property, why, there
wasn’t no objection. But there wasn't
nothing—not even a life insurance. So
I’ve talked to Simon, and made him
hear reason. There can’t nobody live
on air.”
* But that’s rather hard on Joanna,
ain't it ?” said Mrs. Emmons, with a
little sympathetic wheeze,
** Reason is reason |’ Mrs, Lockedge
answered. ‘‘My Simon will have prop-
erty, and the girl he marries must have
somethin’ to match it.”
So that Joanna Fox, sitting listlessly
in her black dress by the window, where
the scent of honeysuckles floated sweet-
ly in, and trying to realize that she was
alone in the world, had divers and sun-
dry visitors that day. The first was
Simon Lockedge, looking as if his er-
rand were somehow connected with
grand larceny. Joanna started up, her
wan face brightened. She was only
sixteen—a brown-haired, brown-eyed
girl with a solemn, red mouth and a
round, white throat, banded with black
velvet,
“Oh, Simon,” she cried, “I
knew you would come when you
heard—-"’
Simon Lockedge wriggled un-
easily into a seat, instead of advanc-
ing to clasp her outstretched
hand.
“Yes,” said he, *‘Of course it’s very
sad, Joanna, and I'm sorry for you.
But—u"
Joanna stood still, her face harden-
ing into a cold, white mask, her hands
falling to her side,
“Yes,” said she. You were say-
Inge"
“It’s mother,” guiltily confessed
Simon Lockedge. “A fellow can’t go
against his own mother, you know.
She says it’s all nonsense, our engage-
ment, and we shouwldn’t have anything
to live on. And so, with a final effort,
‘“‘we’d better consider it all over.
That's the sense of the matter—now,
ain’t it, Joanna ?”’
She did not answer,
“I’m awfully sorry,” stuttered Simon
Lockedge. “Ialways set a deal of store
by you, Joanna.”
, “Did you ?” she said bitterly. ‘‘One
would scarcely have thought
it.»
“And you know, Joanna,” he added
awkwardly, mindful of his mother’s
drill, ‘“‘when poverty comes in at
the door, love flies out at the
window.”
Joanna smiled scornfully,
“It seems,” said she, ‘‘that love
doesn’t always wait for that,” :
And she turned and walked like a
young queen into the adjoining
‘out of the door like a detected
urglar, muttered to himself
a
“It’s the hardest job of work I ever
done in my life. But mother says it
must be dene, and she rules the roost in
our house, ”’
Next came Mrs, Emmons.
“Joanna,” said she, ‘I'm deeply
grieved at this ‘ere afflictionthat’s befell
you.”
“Thank you Mrs. Emmons,” said the
girl, mechanically.
*I've come to ask you about your
plans,” added the plump widow,
“‘hecause if you have no other inten-
tions, I'll be glad to have you help me
alittle with the housework, I’m goin’
to have a house full 0’ summer boarders,
and there'll be a deal more work than
me and Elviry can manage. Of course
you wen't expect no pay, but a good
home is what you need most, and
“Stop aminute,” said Joanna, “Am
I to understand that you expect me to
assume the pesition and duties of a ser-
vant, without & servant’s wages, Mrs,
Emmons ?”
“Yeu’ll be a member of the family,"
said’ Mrs. Emmons. ‘You'll sit at
the same table with me and Elviry and
”
“I am much obliged to you,” said
Joanna, “but I must decline your kind
offer.”
And Mrs, Emmons departed in
righteous wrath, audibly declaring her
conviction that pride was cer-
tain, sooner or later, to have a
fall.
“I have plenty of friends,” said
Joanna courageously, “‘or rather dear
grandpapa had. I am sure to be pro-
vided for.”
But Squire Barton looked harder than
any flint when the orphan came to him.
“Something to do, Miss Fox 7’ said he.
“Well. that’s the very problem of the
age—woman’s work, you know ; and I
ain’t smart enough to solve it. Copy-
ing # No, our firm don’t need that sort
of work. Do I know of any one that
does ? N-no, I can’t say I do. Butif I
should hear of any opening I'll be sure
to let you know, I am a little busy
this morning, Miss Fox. Sorry I can’t
devote more time to you. John, the
door. Good-morning, my dear Miss
Fox. 1 assure you, you have mine and
Mrs. Barton's prayers in this sad visita-
tion of an inscrutable providence.’
Old Miss Gringe, who had twenty-five
thousand dollars at interest, and who
had always declared that she loved dear
Joanna Fox like a daughter, sent down
word that she wasn’t very well, and
couldn’t see company.
Dr. Wentworth, in visiting whose in-
valid daughter poor old parson Fox had
contracted the iliness which carried him
to his grave, was brusque and short.
He was sorry for Miss Joanna, of course,
but he didn’t know of any way in which
he could be useful. He understood
there was a kind of glove factory to be
opened on Walling river soon. **No
doubt Miss Fox could get a place there,
Or there would be no objection to her
going out to domestic service. There
was a great deal of false sentiment on
this subject, and he thought—7"
But Joanna, without waiting for the
result of his cogitation, excused herself,
She would detain him no longer, she
said. And she went away with flaming
cheeks and resolutely repressed tears.
When she arrived home she found one
of the trustees of the church awaiting
her. He didn’t wish to hurry her, he
said, but the new clergyman didn't
want to live in such a ruinous old place.
It was their calculation, as the parson-
age was mortgaged much beyond its
real value, to sell it out, and buy a new
house, with all the modern conveni-
ences for the nse of the Rev. Silas
Speakwell,
“Am I to be turned out of my
home ?*’ said Joanna, indignantly.
Deacon Blydenburg hemmed and
hawed. He didn't want to hurt any-
one’s feelings, but as to her home, it
was well known that to all intents and
purposes the old place had long ago
passed out of Parson Fox’s ownership,
They were willing to accord her any
reasonable length of time to pack up
and take leave of her friends--say a
week.
So Joanna, who could think of no
remaining friend but her old governess,
who had long ago gone to New York
fight the great world for herself, weit
down to the city, and appealed to Miss
Woodin in her extremity. Miss Woo-
din eried over ker, and kissed her, and
caressed her like an old maiden aunt,
“What am I to do ?”’ sald poor, pale
Joanna, ‘‘I can’t starve.”
“There's no necessity for any one
starving in this great busy world,” said
Miss Woedin, cheerfully. ‘‘All one
wants is faculty.”
Joanna shrank a little from the hard
word, which she had so often heard
from the lips of Mrs. Emmons, Miss
Sabina Sexton and that sisterhood.
“ But. how do you live ?”’ said she,
“Do you see that thing there in the
comer 7” said Miss Woodin.
“Yes,” answered Joanna, “‘Isita
sewing-machine 7"
om it.” :
“ But what do you write '’ inquired
Joanna.
“Anything I can get,” answered
Miss Woodin,
And thus in the heart of the great
wilderness of New York Joanna com-
menced her pilgrimage of toil, First
on the type-writer, then promoted to a
compiler's desk in the * Fashion De-
partment of a prominent weekly jour-
pal. Then, by means of a striking,
original sketch, slipped into the letter-
box of the Ladies’ Weekly with fear
and trembling, to a place on 'the con:
tributor’s list, Then gradually rising
to the rank of a spirited young novelist,
until our village damsel had her pretty
rooms furnished like a miniature palace,
with Miss Woodin and her type-writer
snugly installed in one corner,
“ Because I owe everything to her,’
saidjthe young authoress, gratefully.
And one day, glancing over the ex-
changes inthe sanctum of the Ladies’
Weekly, to whose columns she still con-
tributed, she came across a copy of the
Fozxville Gazette,
* Hester,” she said, hurrying home
to Miss Woodin, ‘“the old parsonage is
to be sold at auction to-morrow, and I
mean to go up and buy it, For I am
quite—quite sure that I could write
there better than anywhere else in the
world.”
Miss Woedin agreed - with Joanna,
In her eyes, the successful young writer
was alwaysright. So Joanna and Miss
Woodin, dressed in black and closely
veiled, went up to Foxville to attend
the sale, Everybody was there. They
didn’t have an auction at Foxville
every day in the week. ‘Squire Barton
was there, with a vague idea of pur-
chasing the old place for a public gar-
den.
’
‘* It would be attractive,’ said "Squire
Barton. “These open-air concert-gar-
dens are making no end of money in the
I don’t see why the Germans
need pocket ail the money that there is
going.”
Miss Dodge, who had saved a little
money, thought that if the place went
cheap she would pay down a part, and
give a mortgage for the remainder,
** And my sister could keep boarders,”
she considered, “and I
have a home there,’
But Simon Lockedge was most deter-
mined of all to have the old parsonage
for his own.
“I could fix it up,” said he to him-
self. and live there real comfortable.
It's a dreadful pretty location, and I'm
bound to have it—especially
mother's investments have turned out
bad, and we've got to sell the old farm.
Nothing hasu't gone right with me since
I broke off with the old parson’s grand-
daughter. It wasn't quite the square
thing to do, but there seemed no other
way. But, let mother say what she
will, it brought bad luck to us.”
cities,
could always
gince
And the rustic crowd surged in and
out, and the auctioneer mounted to
his platform, and the bidding began
at two thousand five hundred dollars,
and “hung fire" for some time,
“Three thousand!” said cautious
Simon at last,
“Four thousand !** peeped Miss Dodge
faintly.
* Five thousand I”
lutely.
* Seven thousand !*’ uttered the voice
of a veiled lady in the corner.
Every one stared in that direction.
“ "Pain’t worth that,” said Squire
Barton. “All run down--fences gone
to pothing.’’
But Simon Lockedge wanted it very
mueh,
“ Nine thousand !'’ said he, slowly
and unwillingly.
“ Twelve thousand !"’ spoke the soft
voice decidedly.
“ Twelve thousand dollars !”’ bawled
the auctioneer. ‘I'm offered twelve
thousand dollars for this property.
“Twelve thousand —twelve--t wel ve.
twelve! Twelve thousand, once
twelve thousand twice—~twelve thousand
three times, and gone! What name,
ma'am, if you please 7°’ he asked,
And the lady, throwing aside her
veil, answered. ¥
“ Joanna Fox.”
The old personage was rebuilt, and
studded with little bay-windows and
medimval porches, Laurels and rho-
dodendrons were set out in the grounds ;
and Joanna Fox and Miss Woodin came
there to live in modest comfort,
But Mrs, Lockedge and her son Simon
moved out of Foxville when the mort-
gage on the old place was foreclosed,
and the places thet had known them
ones knew them no more,
And Mrs, Emmons said—
“She's done real well, Joanna has, 1
always knew there was something in
her 7
And Mrs. Wentworth, and the Misses
Barton tried desperately to become in-
timate with the young authoresa, but
without avail,
ARIAS
Proffered Service : Costermonger (to
swell who has asked his way): “Well,
can’t exactly direct you, governor; but
said Simon, reso-
if you'll jump into my barrer I'll drive
you there,” 4
For Our Better Halves.
Extended Notes But important,
COTTON COSTUMES,
The pompadour designs, so much
liked for foulards and sateens, are
extensively copied in the cheaper cali-
coes and percales, which every year grow
prettier, Even the five cent calicoes
are remarkable for beauty and delicacy
of coloring, though these are, of course,
limited in variety, and appear mostly
in dots and specks, tiny flowers and
broken lines, Eight cents gives a wider
choice and better quality, while the
percale and American sateen finished
prints, which sell for twelve and a half
cents, are in all the charming floral
and window glass patterns first intro-
duced for sateens, and some also,
many of them, with solid colors for
combination suits, Polka dots and
rings, shells and lozenges, Kate
k ireenway figures, animal’s heads,
all sorts of quaint and pretty designs
abound, and ladies who like these
inexpensive cotton gowns may in-
dulge in them to any extent,
Wrappers are once more favorite gar-
ments for home wear, and very tasteful,
cool, clean looking matinees are made
of the cheap prints, with tiny spots or
larger polka dots on a white ground.
Ladies who object to loose wrappers,
and young ladies who do not wear them,
make instead these simple morning
dresses with a short round skirt, with
a single deep flounce or two narrow
and a long half-fitting sacque
edged with a ruffle and worn with or
without a belt, The fancy for ginghams
is an established one, and plaids, stripes
Gay Madras
plaids are more popular than last season,
still many ladies prefer small checks
and plaids in less brilliant color-
ings.
PRETTY ZEPHYR
y
Ones,
and checks are all shown,
GIN GHAMS,
Very pretty zephyr ginghams come
in robes with plain material for the
overdress and stripes for the skirt.
These are put up in boxes, and are ac-
companied by a plate to show the man-
ner of making.
worn for such suits, still many ging-
Polanaises are much
hams are made up in what may well be
called the standard style for wash dresses
viz.. a short round skirt with one, two
or three flounces at the foot, a long,
round overskirt draped by means «f
tapes run in casings into a short wrink-
Jed apron in front, and falling in full,
soft puffs at the back. The bodice for
the dress may be either a round, full
waist with a belt, a pleated blouse, or,
what is the favorite style, a basque
with coat-tail, the sides sloped on the
hips and pointed front, The tastes for
erinilated edges, i. e., edges cul into
tabs or points, reaches to ginghams,
and some very effective dresses have
Jersey basques with the edgescut ont and
with solid
while overskirts and flounces are finish-
ed to match, One of the laws of fash-
jon is that the lower skirt must be trim-
med to match the overskirt——it is no
longer in good taste to put lace er em-
broidery on the overskirts and plain,
flounces on the under ; the latter must
also be edged with the trimming. The
dress should, however, always have a
parrow ruffle with plainly hemmed edge
set at the foot under the flounce, in or.
der to protect the lace or embroidery
thereon,
White nainsooks and Victoria lawns
are of many kinds, from the plainly
made dress with tucks for Lhe sole trim-
ming te the elaborate robes made al-
most entirely of embroidery, or trim-
med with Oriental, Russian, or Medicis
lace by the piece.
Esthetic costumes, with round shir-
red waists, full puffed sleeves and plain
round skirt, formed of a single deep
embroidered flounce are liked for young
ladies and misses,
TWO KINDS OF HANDSOME DRESSES,
The handsomest white dresses are
either almost entirely composed of lace,
or else are all of the new open-work em-
broideries, with barely enough plain
material to hold them together. Our
best dressmakers make the basques, cut
from embroidery by the yard, with the
seams cut close and bulton-holed over
on the wrong side. The embroidery
edging the basque is joined on in the
same manner, and great care is taken
to match the figures so that the effect
is given of a basque formed of a single
piece of needlework. The apron over-
dress is of the solid embroidery, and the
skirt is covered with flowers to match.
Very elegant dresses are of fine mull,
or sheer nainsook, almost covered with
Oriental lace frills, and with draperies
of Oriental lace net. Pompadour lace,
the new lace with raised flowers, is very
bound colored ginghams,
livened by the newer shades of French
terracotta, tea-rose, shrimp pink, and
the like, aud a leading toliet will be one
of white nun’s veiling or vigogne, with
broad sash and other satin ribbon trim-
mings of pale primrose yellow, with
primroses in the corsage and halr, and
necklace and chatelaine of amber beans,
decked with wheat ears, poppies and
ribbon bows in bright coloring on a pale
blue ground, Nautilus shells, animals’
heads, stained glass patterns covering
the whole ground, balls, rings, and a
host of other quaint and pretty fancies
are seen. In buying a suit of sateen or
foulard, it is well to purchase two or
three yards extra for a parasol to
mateh, These will be made to order by
any dealer in parasols, and the handle
may be selected to choice, or an old
parasol frame, if one be on hand, can
be used, thus lessening the cost con-
siderably.
Exceedingly pretty sateens are in
solid color, pale blue, p/nk, cream, ete.,
embroidered in openwork designs of
white needle work, These make lovely
dresses for afternoon wear at watering
places,
THE FAVORITE GLOVES,
There has never been a time when fash-
ionable people were 50 independent in the
matter of gloves as now. Some leaders
of fashion wear gloves in mousquetaire
style of twenty-button length, while
others use four-buttoned gloves, and
still others leave their soft, white, care-
fully-kept hands bare for opera, ball or
reception. Four-button length gloves
are usually worn with tailor-made cos-
tumes and jersey jackets, still many
ladies prefer for street wear mousque-
taire gloves worn over the tight jersey
or cloth sleeves, Mousquetaires for the
treet are generally chosen in from six
to eight-luitton lengths, Pale, shadowy
shades of gray, French grays and slate
eclors in all shades, from a blue slate-
color to a dark Russia gray, are in de-
mand this season with ladies of refined
taste, Yellow shades in gloves continue
to be popular, and shown in the
favorite Fedora yellow tint or crude
gold color, in red mandarin orange hues
and in all shades of dead-leaf yellow,
shading into dark, Autumn brown
shades in gloves are shown in a variety
of stylish neutral tints, which may be
elegantly worn with any costume or
color,
Terra-cotta in dark and medinm
shades is a very fashionable color for
gloves, and may be worn with almest
any color. Following the fancy for
black stockings, black gloves are worn
w.th light dresses, and in good
It is always in
good taste to have stockings and gloves
are
are
form on all occasions,
to match for evening toilets where the
low shoe shows the hose, and the
front if slightly short,
dress
THE MOUSQUETAIRE GLOVES,
Letters from Paris say that mousque-
taire gloves are going out of fashion for
full dress ; here, however, they continue
all the rage. Very good pigskin mous-
quetaires are sold in quite a number of
colors for fifty cents a palr for six-but-
ton lengths, and are consequently in
great demand for ordinary wear,
Ladies’ long taffeta gloves in from eight
to ten butten lengths are shown with
Jersey tops or in mousquetaire style in
all the new stylish hues of the season,
Long taffeta gloves to wear over the
dress sleeves in fourteen-button length
are imported in black, tan-color, straw-
berry pink, strawberry red, metallic red
and white,
Lisle thread gloves are imported this
season in all colors, with long Jersey
wrists in open lace pattern or with plain
tops. These gloves are shown in mess
greens, drab browns, golden browns,
copper colors, strawberry red hues,
tobacco browns, old buff tints, shrimp
pink, electric blue and black, and are
sold in from six to eight buttons lengths,
Silk mitts will be again worn this sum-
mer in plain solid silk in black and all
the stylish new shades of the season,
Too Much Sleep.
The effects of too much sleep are net
. Tur PERIOD OF INCUBATION OF
Brit, Mid, Jowrn., April 7, 1883, corrob-
orating the statements of Mr, Vacher,
and citing many illustrations to prove
is fourteen days,
Corvee 1x Tyron Fever, —Re-
cently Dr. Guillassee, of the French
Navy, has given coffee in the stage of
typhoid fever with marked success.
Three teaspoonfuls were given adults
every two hours, alternating with oneor
wine, A beneficial result was immedi
ately apparent,
NATUBE OF DISEASES OF THE
Heanr, ~The Medical Times and Ga
zette says —-M, Martin, in an elaborate
paper on the pathogeny of heart dis
eases, in a recent issue of the Hipw
de Medecine, divides all heart af-
fections into two groups, those of val-
vular origin, These groups resemble
each other in that each has an acute and
a chronic stage, the latter being almost
always a consequence of the former ; in
both groups, tou, the original lesion-
whether it has a chief valvular focus, or
whether it. depends upon a
minute vascular foci—may be the start-
ing-point of a two-fold inflammatory
process, partly intestinal, The former
process is always cornpensatory. Asre-
gards the latter, whether the process has
commenced in one of the valves and
spread thence to the muscular wall
the heart, or whether it has commenced
as a pariarterial lesion, is a "watter of
little moment, for the ultimate result is
the same, viz,, diminution of the power
of the beart, and finally asvstolism,
But, granting thét no hard and fast line
can be drawn between the two groups,
or even that ultimately it should be
shown that all lesions of the heart have
number of
their origin in some vascular change,
stil M, Martin thinks that his proposed
classification might be retained with
advantage, as corresponding with un-
questionable differences in the etiology
and mode of evolution of these changes,
ATROPINE FOR EARACHE, — The
Boston Journal of Chemistry says that
Dr. A, D. Williams recommends its
use as follows :—The solution is to be
simply dropped into the painful ear, and
allowed to remain there from ten to fif-
teen minutes, Then it is made to run
out by turning the head over, then being
wiped with a dry rag. The solution
may be warmed to prevent shock. From
three to five drops should be used ut a
time. The strength of the solution
must vary according to the age of the
child. Under three years one grain to
the ounce, and over ten years four
grains to the ounce of water. In
adults almost any strength may be used,
All ages will bear a stronger solution in
the ear than in the eye. Theapplication
should be repeated as often as may be
necessary. Usually a few applications
will stop the pain. In acute suppurative
inflammation of the middle ear. and acute
inflammation of the external meatus.
atropine will only slightly palliate the
suflering, but in the recurring noctur-
nal earaches of children it is practically
a specific.
Scraps.
The Whitehall Times asks © “If Ne
cessity is the mother of invention, will
some sharp paragraphist please inform
us who the father is > Why, the hus-
band of Mrs. Necessity, of course.
Isn’t this a-parent enough ?
“Circumstances alter cases’ said a
lawyer to his client, after losing his
fourth lawsuit. ** Cases alter circum-
stances,” savagely replied the client.
“By your management of my cases my
Siicamsiantes have been nearly ruin.
An English paper exultingly exclaims
that the Turks appear to know how to
make capital use of their improved
arms. Recent events induce the belief
that they know how to use their legs,
100,
The newest collar is called * Safety.”
It is 50 named from the fact that it §
high enough for a man who wears one
Jess signal than those arising from its
privation. The whole nervous system
becomes blunted, so that the muscular
energy is enfeebled and the sensations
and moral intellectual manifestations
are obtunded. All the bad effects of
inaction become developed ; the mem-
ory is impaired, the powers of imagina-
tion are dormant, and the mind falls
into a kind of heptitude, chiefly because
the functions of the intellect are not
sufficiently exerted, when sleep is too
to crawl up behind it and hide when
his wife steps to the office to inquire
whether he mailed her letters.
At the French Assembly 7.15 rv. 1. :
Speaker (aside to member): “For
heaven's sake finish your speech! I
give a dinner-party to-night.” Member
(aside to Speaker): “I know it. An
other time you'll invite me."
A printer's devil propounds the fol.
Joinge “What is the difference be.
ween a thirty-dollkra-week position at
the ‘case’ and the chief of the Sioux 3»
Ans.: “One is & bully “set.’ and th,
other isa Sitting Bull.» a