xT CALLINGITHE ANGELS IN. We mean todo it. Some day, some day, We meun to slacken this fevered rush That is wearing our very souls away. Ard grant to our goaded hearts a hush That ie holy enough to let them hear The footsteps of angels drawing near. We mean to do it. Oh, never doubt, When the burden of daytime toil is o'er, We'll sit and muse, while the stars come out, As the patriarch sat at the opened door Of his tent, with a beavenward gazing eye, To watch for the angels passing by. We soe them afar at high noontide, When fiercely the world's hot flashings beat, Yet never have bidden them turn aside, And tarry awhile in converse sweet; Nor prayed them to hinllow the cheer We spread, To drink our wine and break our bread. We promised our hearts that when the SLress Of the life-work reaches the longed-for Ci Ose, When the weight that we groan with hin- lors loss We li loosen our thoughts to such repose As banishes care’s disturbing din, And thon—we'll call the angelsin. The day that we dreamed of comes at length, When tired of every mocking quest, And broken in spirit and shorn of strength, We drop. indeed at the door of rest, nd wait and watch as the day wanes on But the angels we meant to call are gone Wait a Little. nnn A picturesque old house in a neglect- ed garden, a vine-wreathed window, and a young girl lying on the low-cush- ioned seat of its embrasure, hidden fren the room within by a rusty red curtain. She would have been pretly if she had not been so pale and list less, Certainly the faint, momentary smile which the shy confidence of a little gray bird in the woodbine brought out was most charming. The girl was idly watching the little creature. She had a sheet of music in her slim fingers. Her eyelids were red, as if she had been recently erying. So still was she that the bird continued to adjust the dried-grasses of its nest without fear, The balmy May wind lifted the tendrils of soft, brown hair, but did not other- wise disturb her utter inactivity. For an hour she had sat there—ever since her uncle, M. Bozarth, had fallen asleep upon his sick bed in the adjacent chamber. The girl had not been crying for him—no, she did not love him. Even in sickness he was tyrannical, as he had ever been. He kept idle bow upon the bed to rap her cruel his knuckles when she did not wail upon him quick enough. She was tired. For three nights she had sat up a greater part of the time. The doctor told her M. Bozarth was going to die, so she was full of dread and fear, but not grieved or fearing the bereavement, although when M. Bozarth was gone she would be all alone. She was an orphan, and for the last four years he had supported her, after a fashion, and taught her music. She had a beautiful voice—pure and delicious. She sang when she was bidden, and sometimes to please herself in pleasing their landlord, Alan Dunleith. lie was a handsome man. He had keen blue eyes and a smile that was He seldom spoke to her, came across the garden some- very gentle. but times of an evening to drink a bottle of wine with M. Bozarth, and listen to his adventures in France and Italy. They talked about music, the drama, and the M. DBozarth was selfish harsh. but he was no fool. Two years before, he had hired Mulberry Cottage, and he and Alan Dunleith had always agreed very well, Only this girl Theresa, had been alone. M. Bozarth was away all day and most of the night, busy with his musical en- gagements in the city. They kept one maid, whom the girl would have turned to for society in her extremity but she, too, was Cross. ‘he poor girl saw no kind face but Alan Dunleith’s. She had come to worship that. She dreamed of it at night : waited from day to day until she saw it, though the owner seldom gave her more than a courteous * Good evening. Miss Tessie!” But he always remembered to say “ good evening again, after she had played and sang for him, and the smile he turned on her seemed kinder. And then she would watch his fine, stalwart figure going down the garden, listen as he whistled an air she had been playing, and wait for the next visit. No one dreamed of all this; perhaps she did not realize it herself ; and it was not at all strange. The little grey bird was very quiet building its nest, and Tessie was extremely tired, Suddenly she realized that she had been dozing, for there were voices in the chamber, and she did not know when her uncle had awakened or when Alan Dunleith had come in. “No, I do not know what will be- come of her when 1 am gone,” M. Bozarth was saying. ‘‘I have little to leave. But she has her voice and her kiowledge of music. She must make her own way." “ A very perilous position for a girl 80 lovely.” “ Perhaps, Mr, Dunleith ; but it is too late for me to make any provision for her now. She must take her chances, the same as I did.” old masters. and ‘But she is a young girl, and a very : delicate and sensitive one, Monsieur ' Bozarth. It is different.” M. Bozarth made a faint, inarticulate reply. “ Will you trust her to me ? I would like to marry her,” said Alan Dun- leith, after a moment, “Eh? Oh, Yes young.” “I consider her youth ; but I think I understand her. I believe I coulp make her happy. Then you give your consent ?"’ “Yes, yes,” wearily. What more they said, Tessie did not know. There was no lack of life and energy in her air now. She sat erect, with wide eyes and flaming cheeks, for a moment ; then, her heart beating in great shocks, she slipped out of the window, flung herself upon the turf of the terrace, and disappeared among the rank shrubbery of the garden—disap peared from the view of the house, but not from her own terrified conscious- But she is very ness, Alan Dunleith marry her—her ? She was burning bot to the tips of her fingers with shame, Then, as she read her aching heart and knew the truth, she uttered a heartrending cry and sank down upon the grass, pale and faint. She buried her face in the moss nd violets. #1 love him—I would give all the world to be fit to marry him! But he shall never marry me because he pities me. I would I rather kill myself first !"’ with violence. Then, with pitiful cry— “1 will run away!” 1 will not—see him again!’ And actually the impulsive, morbid- ly-sensitive, undisciplined girl sprang to ber feet, ran into the back hallway, snatched a shaw! and bat, and turned her back on the only home she knew, It was not so hard ; she had never loved it. She went rapidly down the green road until the stage overtook her, when she sprang aboard with satisfac. tion, seeing the chimneys of Mulberry Cottage disappear in the distance, * Ld * * * cannot--1 Tessie had passed about two years in the city. sending a note to her uncle that she was well and at work copying music jJevond almost immediately —that she hoped he would forgive her for leaving him, but she could not do 0 herwise—she had had no communica- tion with her old home, she had fortunately been found useful in & music publisher's establishment. She earned her bread, and ate it moist- ened with tears, but she never ceased to feel joy that Alan Dunleith had not married her for pity. The earning her livelihood improved her. She gained confidence, force, Mr. Thorne, her employer, fancidd her looks, heard her voice at last and paid her unusual attention, in which there would have been no harm if he had been faultless, But his money covered a multitude of sins, and one day Tessie slipped from his employ knowledge, and, innocent went to reside with who had nursed her mother in her last sickness—an humble but old creature, to whom Tessie her confidence, while aunt Gale gave her a home, “You're a good, brave girl, that your mother’d be proud of this day, if she were alive, Miss Tessie,’ she said ; “‘and Heaven bless the day that you found me out, for I need your bright face sorely.” And now Tessie went out by the day, giving music lessons. She liked this better. She made acquaintances, found variety, yet kept herself intact from the world. She had a strange joy, which she hardly understood, when people complimented her on her beauty, her grace, her tact. In these direc- tions she had advanced much. She was an elegant and intelligent girl, very different from what she had been, and she knew it. Musical people culti- vated her. She went out, and aunt Gale constituted herself a sort of dra- gon, and was always on band to see her safely home. “Miss Tessic Verney's maid,’’ people called her, though Tessie said— “She is not a servant, but an old friend with whom I live.” Where Miss Verney lived no one knew for a long time, and Mr. Thorne, meeting ber repeatedly in society, followed her home at a distance un- suspected, and learned the place of her abode. It was a small, old-fashioned house, in a narrow street, but the neighbor. hood was quite respectable, and aunt Gale had paid for it out of her sav- ings, and the means left her by her sailor-husband, and m it Tessie was se- cure, He made business an excuse and called. But the girl in the low, old- fashioned parlor, would have none of him, Her time was fully occupied--she could undertake nothing in the way of his pretext ; and, baflled, bewitch- ed, and determined to overcome in- difference, he came again and asked her f energy ol color. his and safe, and an old woman honest gave hand in marriage. “Do not be hasty. I have a fortune ; you can adorn it,” he said, looking into her cold, exquisite face, “You are going to refuse, but wait, and let me come agiin, Give yourself time to consider.” Tessie consented to this, her decision she knew to terable, even when vered. “Marriage—he offers you marriage, child! Well, that is an honor ; and he is a very rich man, you tell me. Per- haps it would be wisdom to accept, You say no? Tell me why?” *I knew a good man once. I am in- different to all others,” Tessie said quietly. And the proud Mr. Thorne received the politest of dismissals, The year passed, and another and an- other. It was five years since Tes- sie, a shy girl of sixteen, had away from Alan Dunleith and pity. Three months later she heard of her uncle's death. He had left her none of his little property. He had never intended to, She was not disappointed. She had been glad to find the world was wide enough fer both. She far happier now, She and the strong old woman mutually benefitted each other. The latter was shrewd and faithful The young girl, with her beauty, her music, her future, enriched her life. She was proud of her, loved her, and Tessie returned her affection. the filled the stiff, still old rooms with music, books aud flowers, The small- paned windows were hung with vines, Dingy as the house looked without, it was a bower of living green within. “1'd never have patience to tend an’ fix the flowers myself, but I like to see them, Tessie,’ the old woman say. One day, from the cavity of a blue delf teapot, on an upper shelf of an un- though be unal- aunt Gale wa- ran his was would used closet, she produced a package. “Look at these, dear, They're some seeds my old man brought from Japan years sgo. I don’t know what they'll make—posies of some kind." I'll plant them and see,’ replied Tes sie, looking at tle package of queer, three-cornered brown things. watered them. “These seeds are old, ke my hope, and will hardly bear fruition,” she mused, They are ii She watched anxiously to see shoots appear. “If the seeds grow I will take courage,’’ she said to her- self, herself. A Tessie h un t ull Ww understand She still loved Alan Dunleith, If she perhaps there would not be so much dissimilarity. On the fifteenth day, pale, pearly broke the earth, and quickly took on a tinge of green. A color the rose came into Tessie's cheeks at the sight. Day by day the frail things grew, overrunning the pot with waxy foliage and great buds, and hoped again to meet him. met him now, perhaps shoots like See what large rich buds, aunt Gale, and I think they are going to bloom into some bright color.” “You think more of that plant than of all the answered the old woman, looking at her curiously. po others, Tessie bent closer. Yes, the buds sheathed petals of red. She came down late to breakfast the pext morning, but had hardly seated herself at the nice repast, before she sprang up, nearly overturning her cup of chocolate, A wonderful glow of scarlet irradi- ated the window. Five of the buds had opened, Thelflowers were of marve - lous beauty, of pure, glowing color, velvety in texture, wide and perfect. Already people had gathered in the street before the window to gaze atl them. “Five,” mused Tessie, *‘I wonder if the number has a significance ?"’ Every day the flowers multiplied, until they drooped in a cascade of fire towards the pane. One day a gentleman, passing hastily, caught sight of them and stopped. Then he turned and rang the little door- bell. Aunt Gale answered it. The beautiful plant in the window-—it was a very rare one, which he had tried for years to add to his collection. Could he purchase a slip of it ? Aunt Gale showed the gentleman in- to the breakfast-room, where Tessie, all grace and brightness, stood petting a canary bird. She turned her head, the smile still in her eyes and saw Alan Dunleith. “Tessie I" Loving, approving, tender, he looked into the lovely face, grown so suddenly sober, and extended both hands. And Tessie hesitated but a moment before she laid hers, melding and fair in them. “You have found me,’ she said un- consciously. “1 have come for superba,’’ he said. “Shall I have it?" “Wait a little,” she answered, But her shy eye did not tell him nay. Her blush was eloquent ; and as they turned towards the bed of scarlet flow- ers, both were sure that all this time Science. The Munich Academy of Art has among its 468 Americans. Geology is said to be the most popular department of science in Spain. The mining exhibition at Madrid is a great SUCCESS, The smell of fresh paint in a room may be effectually gotten rid of by placing therein a pail of water in which a few onions have been sliced. Water used in wool-washing yields 4.50 per cent. of a very dry potassium, which can be recovered, as M., Delattre has shown, at a considerable profit, Dr. Siemens calculates that the pres- ent annual yield of all the coal mines of the earth would suffice to keep up the fire of the sun, at its present intensity of light and heat, for about the forty-mil- lionth part of a second. According to the Scientific Californian an instantaneous remedy in cases of poisoning consists of a heaping tea- spoonful of salt and the same quantity of ground mustard stirred in a teacup of warm or cold water and swallowed instantly. A writer in the Scientific Calfiornian suggests a safe method of drinking out of cups at fountains erected for public use. It is to put the lower lip inside of the cup and sip the water, instead of placing the edge of the cup between the lips. A substitute for India-rubber has been invented by M, M. Dankworth and Landers, of St. Petersburg. It is com- posed of 8 mixture of wood and coal- tar, linseed oil, ozokerit, spermaceti and sulphur, which are thoroughly mixed and heated for along time in large ves- sels by means of superheated steam. At a meeting of the Linnean Society, London, last month, Mr. G. Murray ex- hibited specimens of dace killed by the ax), the He asserted that fungus disease ( Saprolegnia fer result of inoculation, this was the first recorded experimental proof of the possibility that this disease could be communicated to fishes, Geitel Messrs, Elster and the YIEWwWSs of ial Hankel on the electricity stale LU flames, published in 1858, but only recently come to their knowledge, have by their ments, which show that confirmed own experi- galvanic ele- ments we INAY formed of heated gases and metals without the introduction of a flame, Within the last few years the devel opment of the coal-fields of Asturias has greatly advanced. In 1882, 219.508 tons were raised, against 1878. But the near future, with demands of railroads and industrial es- go Ahi, oN In the tablisnments, will soon make the pro- duet much greater than the former fig- ures even give any idea of. Mr. J. E. H not than three years ago, was a strong ad- vocate. as he acknowledges himself, of Gordon, later machines small space and driven high rate of speed. Now, after a cost- ly series of experiments, he finds that dynamo-electric occupying a very al a a large machine driven at a compara tively slow rate gives incomparably the best result. and does not endanger life by flying to pieces, Six ix Algerian engineers who have been consulted by M, de Lesseps on the inland sea scheme, report that the cut- ting could be made within five years al a cost of £30. 000,000. Anaverage width of eighty or 100 feet would be sufficient, as the current would widen the canal; and since it would be nearly in a straight line the navigation would be devoid of difficulty. A vast tract of country lacking only moisture to become very productive would thus be brought under cultivation. It has been observed by Swedish en- gineers that the quantity of phosphorus in the pig-iron manufactured with charcoal is larger than that in the ore and fluxes, even assuming that all of it had gone into the pig. Jansen found that when he melted ores in crucibles the metal obtained ran lower in phos- phorus than the pig obtained from the same ore. Sarnstron, in 1881, made some analyses in charcoal, which seem to lead to the conclusion that the ex- cess of phosphorus is due to that species of fuel. Nickel crucibles, instead of silver ones, are recommended by M. Mermet for use in chemical manipulations, Nickel indeed is slightly attacked by melted potash, but so is silver itself. Nickel crucibles cost at first much less than those made of silver, and, moreover, they have the great advantage of welt- ing at a higher temperature. It often happens that inexperienced chemists melt their silver crucibles in heating them over a gas-lamp ; but such an ac- cident is not to be feared in working with crucibles made of nickel, Major Witte, says the Jowrnal of the Franklin Institute, has provided the steam fire-engines of the city of Berlin with pipes for the discharge of com. pressed carbonic acid into she steam chamber. When the engine starts from the station the boiler is heated ; on ar- riving aé the fire the carbonie acid is at first employed as a motor, then the gas steam alone is used, By this arrange- ment the engine is brought into action four or five minutes sooner than would be otherwise possible, ——————————— Pious Sentiment. — The living Christian—pure of heart and unspotted by the world—is the best preacher of the gospel in these days. The Divine Mystery. I'he Rev. Dr. Platt, of Rochester, who delivered the baccalaureate sermon at Hobart commencement, closed with the following pretty bit of philosophical poetry © A — I nothing am-—can nothing be, Unless a part, O God, of thee ; From God 1 come—t0 God | KO, How we are one 1 do not know As stars that shine by single sun, Bo life in each is life from One. Each is for all, and all for each In ways no finite thought can reach ; Yet space is here and space is there, And space is one and everywhere, So time is day and time is night One side the shadow -—one the light When death unveils this segment s Unsevered part of God the whole With God in Christ and Christ in man— The circle ends where it began. I passion flowers and forget-me-nots. begins to appear.—H. W. Longfellow, It is not merely selfish, but wicked to live too reclusively and exclusively in our little worlds, It is a crime against self in its true sense to live a life of lonliness and isolation. The mind be- comes disorganized and preys on itself, when it is, as it were, hide-bound by the neglect of social obligations. Suspicion. —The safest and shortest suspicion. ‘‘Suspicions,”’ in ever fly by twilight.” pered that his affairs are not managed a little questionable, If a woman hate as surely as the touch of an affected band, blacken her beauty and leave her help- less. Who does not know the power of such insinuation? Who does not meet every day the victims of these unseen But it this style of slander to words | wrongs ? is not necessary for use articulate guage is best for its ends, dropped among the combustible— A whisper carelessly in some corner of the shoulder, a sneer, a laugh may serve the purpose, There is not a sadder feature of human nature than the read- iness with which men accept such in- sinuations, and the rarity with which they have the manhood to repel them. Rumor with most minds is presumptive evidence, and they will say with a knowing air, “There must be some fire in 80 much smoke." tt A The Love of Home. t is only shallow-minded pretenders who either make distinguished origin a matter of personal merit, or obscure origin a matter of personal reproach. Taunt and scoffing at the humble con- dition of early life affect nobody in America but those who are foolish enough to indulge in them, and they are generally sufficiently punished by public rebuke. A man who is not ashamed of himself, need not be asham- ed of his early condition. It did not happen to me to be born in a log cabin ; but my elder brothers and sisters were born in a log cabin, raised among the snowdrifts of New Hampshire, at a period so early, that when the smoke first rose from its rude chimney, and curled over the frozen hills, there was no similar evidence of a white man’s habitation between it and the settle- ments on the rivers of Canada, Its remains still exist, 1 make to it an annual visit. I carry my children to it, to teach them the hardships endured by the generations which have gone be- fore them. I love to dwell on the ten- der recollections, the kindred ties, the early affections, and the touching nar- ratives and incidents which mingle with all I know of this primitive family abode. I weep to think that none of those who inhabited it are now among the living ; and if ever I am ashamed of it, or if ever 1 fail in affectionate veneration of him who reared it, and defended it against savage violence and destruction, cherished all the do- mestic virtues beneath its roof, and, through the fire and blood of a seven years’ revolutionary war, shrunk from no danger, no toil, no sacrifice, to serve kis country, and to raise his children to a condition better than his own, may my name, and the name of my posterity be blotted forever from the memory of nk! Webster. s— ——— we is but one solid pleasure in life, and that is our duty. How miserable, then, how unwise, how unpardonable wre they who make that ene a pain. er ————————— Lime-water, with a small quantity of acetic acid, is said to make a geod ink- eraser. Facts and Fancles. Women visitors to the Y osemite have to rides as men do, — Victor Hugo is posted among the delinquent tax payers of Jersey for non~ payment of taxes on two dogs, Hanlan, Lee, Hosmer, Ross and other noted oarsmen are expected to partiei- pate in a regatta at Pittsburg a month hence. —The steamship City of Rome arrived in New York on the Oth, in six days, twenty hours and thirty minutes from Queenstown. The shortest time on record on a west bound trip by two hours and sixteen minutes, The Alaska made an eastbound trip, New York to Queenstown, in six days eighteen hours and thirty-seven minutes, Sir Henry Thompson, the London surgeon, recognizes in fish a combina- tion of all the elements of food that the human body requires in almost every phase of life, more especially by those who follow sedentary employment. To | women he considers fish to be an in~ | valuable article of diet, but he scouts acy the notion that fish eating increases the brain power. i | a8 a complete fal ~The Missouri Bicycle Club are sign- | ing this agreement : ‘““We, the under- | signed, believing the ordinary attire of | bicyclers, the knee breeches, is supe- | rior to long pants, have determined to | adopt them as a costume for wear at all | times during the next twelve months, | from September 1, 1883, providing not less than twenty-five men above the age of twenty-one years shall sign this pe- | tition and maintain the dignity of the new departure.’ The agreement is | being rapidly signed by young men, who declare themselves in earnest, The attempt to improve masculine costuine should be encouraged. Penn's Cottage Rejuvenated. The work of reconstructing William Penn’s house in Park, | Philadelphia, has been finished. With | few exceptions it is the same quaint | little house that was built about two | hundred years ago, the wood having | been brought from England. The | rooms are square, having the old fash- | joned fireplace, and the old and historic | mantelpiece has been removed from one Fairmount | room to another, while Penn's wardrobe has been removed to its former position In con- sequence of the bad condition of the roof and the cornices new material had | to be used in their reproduction. The Historical Society of Pennsylvania has expended several hundred dollars in the work. | in the second story front room. Tit For Tat. “One day,” said a gentleman, *“‘be- fore harvest, I met a fashionably dress- ed person with a large handful of ears of wheat taken from my fields. I saluted him respectfully, and expressed my ad- miration of the beauty of the wheat, ‘Yes,’ said he, it is truly a fine sample, and does the farmer great credit who grew it.’ I acknowledged the compli- ment, and asked him from which of my fields he took it. After he had pointed it out, he assured me that he always liked to take a good sampi home. as it interested the ladies. Upon that, noticing with admiration the style of his coat, 1 asked him to allow me to look at the skirt. He readily did so, and I quietly took out my penkni‘e and cut a large piece from the tail The gentleman Ixuuced and swore; but I told him I always took samples of cloth, and found that they greatly interested my wife. 1 added that be had no more right to take my wheat than I had to take his coat, and that I wished the public to bear this truth in mind.”” This was an experience bought with vengeance, A Unique Summer Journey. mn In unique fashion Mr. P. L. Ronalds, of New York, and his friend, M. J. Davie, are traveling through the coun- try. They reached Nantasket Beach, July 24th, having left Mr. Davis’ resi- dence, on Long Island Sound, June 21, in a carriage drawn by a fine span. They have besides, two wagons, one ot which in camp is transformed into a parlor and sleeping-room, the other into a kitchen, to which is annexed berths for the assistants, two drivers, one waiter and a French cook. Under the parlor wagon is hung a boat for use when the party reach a pond, lake, river or the shores of the ocean. The wagons were built in England, and with them Mr, Ronalds has traveled over a large part of Europe. He in- tends te visit all points of interest in New Bngland this summer and fall, Pupils at schools should be careful in the selection of their associates. The Waterbury (Conn.) American tells of five ladies who were school girls to- gether and intimate friends, of whom four have died of cancer and the fifth is now attacked by the same disease,
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers