pny
WHEN THE MOONLIGH [ REIGNS.
w Lot's steal away when moonlight reign-,
And Summer sleeps amid her flowers ;
Let's steal away and wake the strains
That Love has made for happy hours.
0, softly o'er the waters glide,
The waters lit by silvery beams ;
But let the song float o'er the tide,
And life low on in golden dreams.
Across the stream I hear a swell,
A cheering song of youthful glee;
Across the stream sweet voices tell
The sacred hour of melody,
Then steal away, O happy hearts!
While Sight her richest mantle wears,
And catch the strain her voice imparts,
And leave to Time its fleeting cares.
“* Katie's Work"'
a Hurrah i"
The door flew open with a bang as
Phil Paysen burst into the little room
where his mother and his sister Katie
sat sewing, his face flushed, his eyes
shining, and his cap swinging high over
his head.
* Why, Phil I’
“Give three cheers, mother! Dance
like a dervish, Kate! I'm going to be
night watchman in Mr. Medway 's mill,
at fifteen dollars a month. Oh, mother,
ain’t you glad *’
“ Very glad, indeed,” answered Mrs.
Payson, and for a moment she looked
pleased enough to satisfy Phil's high-
est expectations. Then her face cloud-
¢ But your school, Phil dear ; I can’t
have you leave that.”
“I don’t mean to, mother.” said
Phil, earnestly. *‘ It’s all fixed just
right. I'll study nights—it will help
keep me awake, you know—and Miss
Cary i8 going to hear me recite every
afternoon at five o'clock. She offered
to, mother. Oh, mother, do say you're
glad, really I”
Mrs. Payson pulled her tall boy down
and kissed him tenderly on both glow-
ing cheeks. As for Katie, she was lit-
erally on tiptoe with delight. She was
a little brown gypsy, with dark eves full
of fire and fun.
“ood for Miss Cary,” she cried,
twirling around on her toes. *‘Isn’t
she just splendid ?"’
“She is very kind,” said Mrs. Pay-
son, smiling; ‘‘and I am glad, Phil,
more glad than I can tell you. How
came Mr. Medway to give you the
place? It is a very responsible posi-
tion, you know.”
Yes? said Phil, and he blushed
and hung his head. ‘‘Squire Dreems
recommended me, mother, Mr. Med
way said be told him I was a very trust-
worthy boy. I'm sorry I said such hard
things about him."
“ I'm sure he deserved it,’ Katie
flashed forth, * for advertising mamma
to ‘put us out’— that is just what he
said—when--papa--went away, and of-
fering to find good homes for us. The
idea! What would a home be without
mamma ? And what would she do
without us. I'd like to know.”
“ What, indeed ?*’ echoed the mother.
“1 can't tell, Katie. But ’Squire
Dreems thought he was acting for the
best. He has been very kind all
through our trouble, and I am sure
that it was his influence that procured
Phil this situation.”
* But it’s mean for Phil to do it all,”
argued Katie. ‘1 wish I could do
something.”
Pril wrinkled his nose at his sister
and laughed. :
“I'm the head o' this house,” said
he. You and mother are ladies, Katy-
did. 1 don’t mean you shall do much
more sewing for people.’’
“My fifteen year-old wan,” said his
mother, laughing too ; but there were
tears gathering in her eyes,
And Katie dimpled, and then re-
fapsed in swift gravity.
“1 know what I ean do, Phil,’ she
said, going close to her brother. *I
can hold up your hands the way that
somebody in the Bible did. I can see
the mill from my window, and every
night—every night, Phil, before I go to
sleep, 1 shall ask God to take care of
my brother ; and every time I'm awake
I shall look down at you, 80 you needn't
feel lonesome.’
“Something of the guardian angel
style #7 laughed Phil, trying to joke
away the moisture he felt creeping into
his eyes. ‘You're a trump, Katie ;
but, of course, that’s all nonsense—the
looking out, you know.”
Katie wasn’t sure of that, however,
it were. She would feel as if she were
somehow helping Phil, and that would
be a comfort. Their little dwelling,
though on the same side of the river as
the mill, was above it, and around a
the riverbank was in plain
' his nights were passed seemed far less
! lonely to him when he remembered that
from her window and thinking of him.
S80 a month passed by, and Phil per-
formed his duties to Mr, Medway’s en-
tire satisfaction. There were some,
indeed, who considered him too young
for his pst, and did not hesitate to say
go. But Mr. Medway always answered
with a smile :
“Well, Squire Dreems recommended
him, and guaranteed I wouldn't be
sorry I hired him. I've tested him all
times o’night ; he's always wide awake
and about His business, He does the
work of a man, and I get him ten dol-
lars on a month’s hire less.”
Which was very true, and Mr. Med-
way ought to have blushed for it,
though, to Le sure, Phil was more than
satisfied with what he received.
“I'm only two-thirds of a man yet,”
he said to his mother, laughingly.
“I'm lucky to get the place. There
are enough more who would be glad to
take it.
He kept well up with his classes, too,
Le was so ambitious. Miss Cary de-
clared that she was proud of him to
Katie, and Katie's heart swelled with
joy to hear it.
One day, early in March, something
happened. Mrs. Payson was taken sud-
denly and violently ill. Katie, terrified
beyond measure, could do nothing but
rouse Phil from his sleep; and when
the boy, startled by his sister’s white
seared face, had brought the doctor, he
felt as though he could never sleep
again.
There was no great cause for alarm,
however,
“It’s a bad attack of cramp,” said
Dr. Daley, with a reassuring smile in
Katie’s direction. ‘You're doing just
right.
hot. The spasm will ease away in a
little time.’
*"
It was not until nearly night-fall,
nevertheless, that Mrs, Payson became
perfectly free from pain and quite her-
self again. Then Phil, light-hearted
enough, and whistling a merry air, took
up his lunch-basket and his books and
trudged off to his work. Katie,
troubled, followed him to the door.
“I'd get some else to-night,
Phil,” she “You have always
been used to sleeping all day. What if
one
said.
But Phil laughed, and opened his
dark eyes to their utmost. “I'm as
wide awake as an owl,” said he. *‘I
couldn’t go to sleep if 1 wanted to.
See!”
Katie laughed too at the comical,
strange expression on Phil's face.
But she couldn't help feeling a little
anxious as she went solwly back into
the house. Suppose Phil should go to
sleep, and Mr. Medway have a notion
to visit him, as he often did. Katie
knew what a sad thing that would be
for them all, and how dreadfully Phil
would feel !
“It would just break his heart, I
know,"’ said she, to herself, “But of
course he won't’
Katie's prayer for her brother's wel
fare was much longer that night than
usual ; and, once in bed, she tossed and
tumbled, only to fall at last into an
uneasy slumber. More than once before
the little clock on the sitting room
mantel! struck ten she sprang to the
window and gazed down across the
wide white river bend, only to see Phil's
lamp beaming cheerily in the engine
room. How Phil would laugh at her,
she thought, feeling really out of pa-
tience with herself.
“I won't look out again,’ she said.
“It’s nonsense, just as Phil said. I will
not look out again to-night.”
But she did-—once more, The lamp
in the engine-room still burned brightly.
It would have been a relief to see the
light flashing from window to window as
she had seen it so often, Katie thought.
She could feel then that all was right.
Now--
Was that the lamp? It flickered
strangely. One instant it died into the
ghost of a light, and the next it flared
brilliantly. Katie rubbed her eyes in
wondering terror. It was no illusion ;
the light shining from the engine-room
was not clear, steady lamp light, It was
red--like fire !
Katie was already hurrying on her
clothes. There was a dreadful lump in
her throat, and her breath came in
short, quick gasps. She did not pause
or her boots with their endless rows of
buttons ; she pulled on her stockings
and rushed swiftly out of her room and
down stairs, catching a shawl from the
stand as she ran. Behind the
kitchen stove hung a pair of Phil's
thick woolen stockings, and these she
hastily pulled on over her own. There
‘was no question in ber mind as to the
course she would take, It was more
than half a mile by the road to the mill,
‘he late rains had swelled the river,
ov d its banks, but the
{ her light weight, and over it she flew.
| ghe thought that it creaked and swayed
under her, and she fancied herself
breaking through once or twice, but on
ghe sped, her large dark eyes strained
and fixed on that flaring red light. It
seemed hours to her before she reached
themill. She bad been there before to
take Phil his lunch once when he had
forgotten it, and she knew the way per-
fectly well, In at the dark yawning
door she darted, and up two or three
narrow steps. There was sm ke in the
, air—surely.
She opened the door of the engine-
t room, and closed it hastily behind her,
with a quick, shrill cry of dismay.
“Phil! Oh, Phil I”
For the room was full of smoke,
Through it the lamp-light showed pale
and dim. Little tongues of flame were |
running over the floor before the fur-
nace, lapping up a shaving here and |
there,and craw ling, snakelike, up the
wall very near the window. And Phil
sat by the rough table, his face buried
in his arms, asleep—so sound asleep and
go stupefied by the smoke that Katie's
first cry failed to arouse him.
She screamed with all her might,
and shook him then,
“Phil ! dear Phil!” she cried.
- fire IV
It all happened in very little time.
That one last word shrieked in Phil's
ear awoke him effectually. He under-
stood the situation and sprang to his
feet.
“Don’t whistle I”! cried Katie, catch-
ing his arm. “Don’t rouse the town,
Phil. We can put it out.”
They fell to work then with a will,
After all, it was not much of a battle,
There were pails and an abundance of
water at hand, and the fire was not
really under headway. The flames,
though wide-spread, had not begun to
burn through the solid floor, which was
soon thoroughly flooded. In afew min-
utes it was all over, and Phil had opened
the window. He turned to Katie then,
“Oh
who stood pale and trembling, as she
bad not trembled before,
Katie!"
“how did you—"’
«Oh, he cried, chokingly
ah { hh.
Katie.”
Katie, darling, don't,
The door opened at that moment.
Phil knew who stood there before he
heard Mr. Medway’'s voice.
“ Heyday! What's all
about ¥"’
“There has been a fire, sir,’ answered
Puil, readily, though with a shake in
his voice. ‘‘But is out now."
Mr. Medway stepped into the room
without another word, and taking up
the lamp proceeded to examine the wall,
the floor and the furnace itself care-
fully.
“(3ibbs must look after this in the
morning,’ he said ; and he placed the
lamp on the bench again, while Katie
and Phil stood by with sinking hearts.
Suddenly he looked at Phil's sister.
“Why, what are you here for?" he
asked, not unkindly.
Ah, how easy it woull have been not
to tell him--to say that Phil was lone-
some and wanted her for company; to
say anything but the dreadful truth.
But Katie’s honest little nature ab-
horred a falsehood.
“JI —he was-—I—'’ she stammered,
with many painful pauses, *I—"
But right here Phil came bravely to
the rescue.
“T was asleep, Mr, Medway,” besaid,
“and if it hadn't been for Katie your
mill—"’
“Asleep |" repeated Mr. Medway, his
face stern and cold,
It was an awful moment, and Katie
ended it by springing forward and grasp-
ing Mr. Medway's hand.
“Oh, if you please,’ she cried, ‘‘may
1 tell you how he happened to do it?
Mamaia was ill, and he could not sleep
at all yesterday. It was not his fault,
sir— indeed it was not. Poor Phil! Oh,
ri
Mr, Medway was not at all a hard-
hearted man, though perhaps a little too
intent on his own particular interests.
His voice was husky when he spoke to
Katie,
“How did you happen to see the
fire ¥"’
HWhy—I—1-"
“She looks out of her window a dozen
times a night to see that 1'm all right,”
said Phil, with brusque earnestness ;
“and she prays for me before she goes
to sleep. That's how, Mr. Medway.
Oh, Katie, little sister !*
“Well! well!” said Mr, Medway,
who seemed to be having a great deal
of trouble with his throat and eyes.
“Well! well!” And he was silent, for
what seemed to Katie and Phil, a long,
fuss
this
time,
“1 suppose I needn’t—needn’t come
here again,” Phil mustered courage to
say presently.
“ Not come again!" echoed Mr.
: “Why not, boy | Of course
yours ought to be encouraged,
pretty sure you won’t let this happen
again,”
And he slammed the door behind
him,
‘+ Oh, Phil 1”?
“Oh, Katie 1”
They went home in the morning ear-
ly, and Mrs, Payson heard the story of
the night’s adventure.
“Twenty-five dollars a month, moth-
er !*? cried Phil. “Think of that | And
it’s all Katie's work, every bit.”
But Mrs. Payson, thinking too of
Katie's work, shuddered and drew them
close, and kissed them botb.
A ——————
Another Landmark To Go.
A Resort that was the Centre of
Philadelphia's Trade In Pre-
Revolutionary Days.
Another pre-revolutionary landmark
has within the past week been selected
for destruction. The structure in
roofed store which wus once known as
the London Coffee House, and which
stands on the southwest corner of Front
and Market streets. It is now occupied
by the firm of G. & A. Ulrich, wholesale
has been in
that family since the year 1817, at
which time the business was established
by the father of the members of the
present firm, It was originally built
about the year 1702, by Charles Reed,
who bought the lot in 1701 from Letitia,
daughter of William Penn. In 1739
Reed’s widow conveyed the property to
israel Pemberton, who, on his death
in 1751, willed it to his son Johu, on
whose death it was sold to the Pleasant
family, From the latter's hands it
passed in 1706 into those of James
Stokes, for what was then stated to be
‘the great sum of £5216 13s, 44."
Mr. Stokes’ family heid it
and
until 1517,
passed into the hands of the
senior member of the firm which
occupies it,
now
wus first opened asa
bE
Ak
the pro-
the
the
applying to
Kes p
“Having been advised to
license to
house, said :
keep a coffee house for the benefit of
and,
merchants and traders, a8 Some
people may at times be desirous to be
with other liquors besides
}
to have the Governor's
license.’ The place at once becaine
popular and was patronized by the
Governor and many other persons of
Necessary
note. as well as by all prominent and
well-to-do strangers. Being situated
in such a conspicuous, and then central,
part of the city, the coffee house soon
became a sort of exchange, and public
sales of slaves, live stock, wagons and
carriages and lesser articles were held in
the street in front of its public room.
In 1780 the premises were rented to
Gifford Dally by John Pemberton, the
then proprietor, who being a stanch
Quaker, made Dally sign the following
agreement before leasing him the house :
“On the 8th of 7th mo., 1780, the
said Dally covenants and agrees and
promises that he will exert his en-
deavors, as a Christain, to preserve
decency and order in said house, and to
discourage the profanation of the sacred
name of God Almighty by cursing,
swearing, ete., and that the house on
the first day of the week shall always be
kept closed from public use, that due
regard and reverence may be manifested
for retirement and the worship of God.”
Dally also bound himself to pay a pen-
alty of £100 if he permitted any gam-
bling with die or cards, and to fulfill
this purpose h s first lease was only for
one year and his second for twice that
length of time. At the end of that
period it was used as a store and
dwelling, and later simply as a dwelling.
Pa, Exchange.
————————— I ——
Eggs by Weight,
The Pennsylvania Legislature lately
passed a law making it necessary that a
dozen eggs should weigh one and one-
half pounds, We approve of this. The
hens have too long had their own way
in this business of laying eggs, and they
bave constantly defrauded the public.
It is high time this outrageous monopoly
was crushed, and we are glad that the
Legislature is going to doit. If free
American citizensare to be imposed upon
with impunity by debauched and corrupt
chickens the t for which Wm,
Penn fought and John Hancock died
is a disgraceful failure. Hereafter, the
Governor having signed the bill, hens
will have to lay two-ounce eggs or emi-
grate. The people will submit to their
tyranny no longer. They have borne
the yolk until it has become unendura-
ble. They denounce present prices for
present eggs as , and hens
they demanded a reform with the deter-
mination to draw up this chicken bill
and pullet through the legislature.
Bryn Mawr (Pa.) Home News.
A A A TY
It costs eight, good dogs to
an ordinary kind of a wife in
They come high, ete.
Concerning Dogs.
Dogs have as many grievances as
schoolmasters or farm laborers, For
the noble profession of instructing
youth mankind has an unlimited admi-
ration ; for its individual professors
only contumely and ridicule. In the
horny-handed sons of toil literature
recognizes the unfettered pioneers of
civilization ; in Honge we see only un-
lettered bumpkins, So with dogs. We
magnanimously affect to regard them
in poetry and elsewhere as symbols of
courage and fidelity, We place them
carved in stone at the monumental feet
of our chaste matrons as types of eter-
nal constancy, and then we treat them
in the flesh like-—like dogs. We speak
of their ‘‘strength of feeling great be-
yond all human estimate,” and throw
the name of ‘‘dog '’ at one another as a
compendium of abuse, while in com-
mon language dog-latin, dog-rose, dog-
wheat, dog-grass and dog-cabbuge mean
simply as many worthless frauds and
colorable imitations. In proportion as
we become civilized and further re-
moved from that long-tailed, ape-like
ancestor of ours, we affect to look down
upon dogs like a man who is ashamed of
his poor relations. It was not always so.
Through the dim past of Egypt the
figure of the dog looms large and god-
like, though the degenerate heirs of the
pyramid-rearing, dog-wol shiping giants
of old consider the dog as no whit better
than a Christian, In Imperial Rome
Alexander Severus spent his hours of
leisure rioting with puppies, and
Agrippa’s dog, ** had a devil chained to
his collar,” but no medern Roman dogs
are thus distinguished. Even in Eng-
land the sixth class of mischievous gob-
lings used to fling down platters and
appear in the likeness of wandering
black dogs ; but wandering dogs of any
color have no superstitious terrors now
for the police, Mahomet admitted the
dog Katmir, who stood on his legs for
800 years, into Paradise, and the un-
tutored Indian of Pope's time believed,
we are told, that when after death he
should be translated to the sky, * his
faithful dog would bear him company.’
The Indian of our days is sufficiently
educated tc part company with his
faithful dog for a bottle of store rum.
Still the dog is not altogether without
honor in the savage countrieseven now,
The wanton killing of a dog has caused
a feud between two fribes of Beaver
Indians which time will never heal,
though no European Government, with
its budgets and surpluses, would ever
mobilize a regiment for a wilderness of
dogs. [n Fiji the dogs have ranks and
titles, for a chief's dog must be spoken
of by a different name from that given
to a common man's dog ;: and the Ainos
of Japan salute a European dog with
profound solemnity. Among the Red
Indians the baby and the inevitable
puppy travel together upon the women's
backs, and the sleigh dogs of North
America are sufficiently on a par with
ordinary half-breed education to be
able to ‘“dodge a curse as if it were a
brick-bat.’* It is, perhaps, in this very
necessity for the sudden avoidance of
unexpected missiles of all kinds that
dogs have lost much of their ancient
dignity. If dogs could have thrown
stones in the earlier stages of their evo-
lution, they might have been our mas.
ters and we their dogs. Observe when a
small boy meets a still smaller dog sud-
denly round a corner, the abject terror
of the biped if the other offers to dis-
pute the passage. Note, on the other
hand, how that boy will stoop earth-
wards for a stone, and how that dog,
with ear-splitting yells and closely-de-
pressed tail, will scamper down the
roadway, with the pebble scunding
harmlessly in his rear. In that one in-
stant is condensed the whole history of
man’s triumph in the struggle for su-
premacy. For in some minor respects the
dog has always been and is still supe-
rior to mankind. It has never sunk
for instance, to the level of the anthro,
pophagi, for the old adage: “Canis
caninam non est’’—there are no canine
cannibals still holds good. The friend-
ship of a dog, again, is more disinter-
ested than that of a man, for in coun.
tries where dog licenses—that last in-
sult of human tyranny-—are unknown,
the poorer the man tho more dog-friends
he has; and Dr. Williams’ dog, that
gave solemn burial to all the cats {about
100) that he had killed, should put
many human savages to the blush.
Culindry Economies.
A NEW SALAD DRESSING, One tea~
spoonful of dry mustard, half a teaspoon-
ful of salt, half a teaspoonful of sugar ;
pour about a quarter of a cup of hot
water over them, and stir well until all
are dissolved. Then add salad oil, drop
by drop, and stir well after each addition
of oll, to make sure of having just
enough. No more oil should be put in
than will be taken up or hidden in the
mustard ; two raw, unbeaten eggs may
then be vigorously stirred in, and, lastly,
half of a small teacupful of vinegar,
Let these all come to a boil ; it will burn
easily, so must be watched and stirred
cold before mixing it with the salad.
ny
Por Av Feu,—Take a good-sized
beef-bone with plenty of meat on it, ex-
tract the marrow and place a pot on the
back of the range, coveiing the beef
with three or more quarts of cold water ;
cover tightly and allow to simmer all
day long. The next day, before heating,
remove the grease from the top, and add
a large onion which has been stuck full
of cloves and roasted in the oven till of
a rich brown color ; then add any other
vegetables which one may fancy. Riee
or vermicelli may be added for a change.
Just before serving, burn a little brown
sugar and stir through it. This gives
a peculiar flavor and rich color to the
soup.
THE REFRIGERATOR, — Woodiness is
very often noticeable in cold meats
kept in a refrigerator. To prevent this
try scouring out the whole interior with
the following preparation : take quarter
pound of lime, half pound of washing
soda, and one quart of boiling water ;
mix all this well together, and leave until
cold ; then pour off some of the water and
scrub with the sediment, instead of soap.
It may take off the varnish, but ought to
remove the odor. A good sunning for
a day in the yard, with all the compart-
ments and closets open, should be given
to every refrigerator at least once a year,
This is troublesome, but helps to sweeten
the interior.
Buns. —Two quarts of warm water,
two pounds of sugar, one and a half
pounds of butter, two ounces of allspice,
six eggs beaten by themselves, one pint
of yeast. Put the flour, yeast and water
together about as thick as pudding, set
it by the fire, let it rise to a sponge, and
mix the sugar and butter together. Then
beat the whole together after rising and
knead in flour enough but not very stiff ;
make the buns small and brush them
over with egg just as you put them into
the oven.
Peacn Frirrers,—Use for these
the evaporated peaches, soak them all
night in a little water, and stew gently
in the morning ; keep them closely cov-
ered, and if the peaches are left in
halves the flavor is wonderfully pre-
served. Make a batter of one cup of
sweet milk, two eggs, a little salt, and
flour enough to make a moderately stiff
batter. Fry in bot lard and serve with
or without cream ; of course, thé cream
is a delicious sauce.
PixearrLE Propping, — Butter a
| pudding dish, and line the bottom and
| sides with slices of stale cake (sponge
| cake is best), pare and slice thin a large
pineapple ; place in the dish first a layer
of pineapple, then strew with sugar,
then more pineapple, and so on until all
is used. Pour over a small teacupful of
water, and cover with slices of cake
which have been dipped in cold water ;
cover the whole with a buttered plate,
and bake slowly for two hours,
Aunt Esther was trying to persuade
little Eddie to retire at sunset, using
as an argument that the little chickens
went to roost at that time. “Yes,” said
Eddie, “but then, aunty, the old hen al-
ways goes with them.”
A military matter: Major A. and
his friend W. met and bad a drink to-
gether. After awhile W. asked the
major up for another smile, and the
major hesitated. “Why, Major,” says
W.. *I never knew you so loth to ad-
vance on a re-treat.”
Public Opinion.
There never was a greater myth than
a supposed public opinion. What is
public opinion ? It is but a sentiment
that like a spark has ignited a blade
of grass, and Jo! the prairies are in
flames, and thousands of wild animals
perish, and at times lives of men and
domestic animals lost or placed in jeo-
pardy. So with the sentiment of public
opinion. It often hangs the innocent
and permits the release of the criminal.
It oppresses unjustly, and lands the
most heinous of offences. It applauds
the leader who leads his followers to
scenes of carnage up to his saddle girths,
if needs be, in gore, and yet will hurl
him, as did they him who delivered
Rome, from the Tarpeian rock, within
sight of his fleld of victory. A few
fanatics, or a rough rider, an enthusiast
or bold adventurer, a clique or clan—
soon with their positivenes establish
public opinion. Those who imagine
that this sentiment is the result of the
wise teachings, the living examples,
is as fickle as April, and changes its
political complexion as the chameleon
does it hues, It is nothing and signifies
Jess. It is the creature of despotism
o<day and of anarchy to-morrow. It
has no stability, and, as a reality, had
no existence, save in the imagination,
A howling mob on the one hand or a
opinions of a people ; but these calor
feised bodies give shape to sentiments,
rarely principles, and the people negs-
tively fall into line, and the slogan of
public opinion is heard echoing through-
Joe thant ena Thorongiiess Sek