The books 1 love you w ill net fina On narrow shelves arranged, Beneath the sky they open lie, And oft the type is changed. Oft by the streams, where thrilling words Are set to music wild, And space abounds with sylvan sounds That charmed me when a child. Within the wood, where song is rife, ‘Mid branches intertwined, Thro' the blue haze I silent gaze On pages intertwined One dreary moor, on mountain side, And by the lone sea shore; | Or turn the leaves where sheaves Are full of wondrous intumn's lore. i At eve the page lies open still In the mysterious night, The it book on which I look, Gleams in the star's pale light. * ances In cottage homes, in halls of w ealth, I'he hooks I love abound, A hand divine has traced each line L bove, below, around! IR RRA RY ON THE RIVER. +4, Vane is at his old tricks again. If 1 were that girl’s father or brother I shouid be inclined to express my opinion his tactios pretty strongly.” ¢ 1s that Miss Elliot? T haye noticed him by side more than half the evemug—but, if I may judge from the lady's expression, his attentions are not otherwise than acceptable.” “splendidly handsome girl, isn't she? Alice Hurgreaves, the new beauty, is « patel npon ber in my opinion.” Handsome enough—for those who re that style-—great Eastern eyes Juno-like figure. For my own Of uer no ads 1 Hi {emis ‘So apparently did Vane yesterday ruil He was sitting in the park auder Mrs, Fairfax’s parasol for over an bour and a half. How a proud girl like Blanche Elliot cap stand such an open rivalry passes my comprehension,” 4 _ Fairfax? The widow of Jaek x, of the artillery?” so— Nina Forrester that was, member her, Graham-—a air-haired thing who looks f wind would bl is awfully well off ol care of that, poor oid chap! Le, oO Vr Lud 8. pretty little if a putl « She ie i i as OW WWay, ¢ « VER RH And i reaily pretty as herself, over five years ir Vane, YOIl 88Y? “Furting! She 1 the flirt in ham amusement, river—boat always ready and cream-—and a pretty g 3 Engl a fod. 8 kind paradise for that oi Sloping lawn down + i your own master. Sse, mamma is beckon- ing to me. Goot-mght. You will find it cool avd pleasant on the river to-mor- row,” And with this parting shot she is gone; leaving Vane looking decided. ly foolish, and, what is worse, unpleas- antly conseious that he is looking so. “By George!” he solilogquized, as he “How savage she oan look when she pleases! Yet I don’t know but that 1 admire ‘her all the more—a flare-up interest iu my movements, Still, the widow 18 decidedly pratty-—and I have been down on my luck lately and sadly need a windfall. Aud I really she is fond of me, dear little soul!” And Sir Reginald vane's reflections not leading him to any satisfactory con- Waterloo, taking a return ticket to Twickenham. Five minutes * walk from the railroad villa, with green lawn sloping down to ing ash a dainty little figure, emerging from the depth of a chaise lounge, comes with hand extended to meet him, and with the flickering sunbeams light- ing up her great childish blue eyes and waves of pale golden hair, Mrs, Fair. day as any man's eye could rest upon. So Reggie Vane thinks, with =a sigh and murmur of satisfaction, ns, nuinvited vherries his hat and helps himself from the fragrant pile of in the basket near ur hand. “rightfully hot in London able in 1% here Queenie and I have been do nothing bat lounge about strawberries. Wha tho sre 18 shade and eat the child, by-the-by.” A tiny counterpart of prom { isa of even greater and presents a tiny ne i wien attempt i vellow LWay. Tuy. ‘You forgo YOu mind (aes § h Owl after- this fresh a She has been staying with 0 go home yesterday. for a breath of noon, Weeks, was 1 ir on a up in her brother, ¢ L i i 3 “‘And won't token of pardon?” as the rosebud mouth iis half reinectantly. : 1 tes, but finally conquered b wand smile, goe Vin desired gift, youl bring me anotuer i meets Jaecanie 8 a y that Lh winnin quest of t g voice ! ue “And now. Monsieur,” says the little woman, leant ug back on her cushions, hame's attention had stowed upon Miss Etliot « the al ly bending over her. is a very good-looking face loving friends has so to a Gordon setter, hh dark, lustrous and if there bh and by the black He +i Le weak hoes marr ut chin they are are thie COLCea d silky mustache which covers both, is a popular man, especially with women, who casiy eall ‘Regme,"”’ frec-aud-easy compiiman a charm of thelr when that low musical murmur, 1 . drawing room pet of thie uineteenth century, such as one with here snd there 1a the course of every season. OU! a very differeut type is Leslie Gra- hame, the man who, standing iu Fotos AEA ald smile ON t 2 ich ba ittered in 5 Ww i vo own n Iaci & $ meels the less reearks of a goseiping anquaint- ance, Of Scottish descent and with a ruggid cast of features common to that uatior, he might, exeept for his com- wandiug height, pass nunoticed in the crowd assembled at Lady Hethering- {ons ‘At Home,” Bat probably, ou Aldershot fieid-day, a spectator would pick cat the cavalry oflicer who sits his norse so gallantly (though three fingers of his bridle hand are gone, and Le 1s fain to wind the chargers reins areund his wrist) as au object of curiosity. For do not other medals besides those so lately won in Egypt decorate his breast, sud is there uot some tale of danger and heroism, almost unparalled in the modern aanals, connected with the cross earned at Ulundi? Blanche Eiliot, keen-witted in read- ing counienances, has mngled him out this evening, and appeals to Vane with a half conscious laugh. ‘Pray, who is that stero-looking man jenning sgeinst the door? He appears to take au interest in me-—this is the second time I have caught him gazing this way,” “fs that so remarkable? 1 should have thought the oceurrence too fre- quent and natural to attract your at- 1ention-—although 1t is rather wonder. ful for Colonel Ureshame to condescend to notice any one. His head is usually in the clouds,’ “He looks out of place here, and he feels it. See he is ‘sloping off,” as you AY. » V, C., is he uct?” Just so, A great hero iu his way, put not 6 very amusing companion in ordinary life. | only know him by sight, however. Bat tell me once more, when and where am I to see you again?’ Miss Eiliot was playing with her fan, and contrives with it to hide the eolor that for » moment overspreads her lace at this question, As she remains silent he repeats it more eagerly, “Yon know my hours—I always ride in the evening during this hot weather 5 to 8-1 shall probably do so to- morrow,” “To-morrow?’ Vane's handsome face petrays evident disturbance. ‘I am sfrma 1 shall be out of town, Very provoking —an old cugagement with « te'ation,” “Why stoop to prevarioatio, Sir eginaid? Blanche has risen fiow, snd Or wats een wre Hasultg “You wre i large innocent blue eyes, ‘how has tae world been usi give al Where were you last Ihe ner 9 a i wink? ng vou since last we met po | f acooun 4 YOuUrse! Tn ont Hie «Miss E'liot was not careless little tone of “No, I took it house, wh say for he reel “Aud wh thea Lal i. left yA ) the i eloguen { cross: take some more strawbe ABTS here, Where dia “Toacouplcols go allerwards?” id erushes——really in this weather, toler. vou tap institutio 1 OTIS Were “And you en} it oyed yourseil tere! unless tempted you." : when you some special attractiou “And how could that 0 “Well meant. my friend, but hardly expected from you. rua in to ask why tea," “Here it comes—and confound it!-— nother visitor. Why cannot that butler of yours learn (iscretion?” “Because 1 prefer to exercise my own,” replies Mrs, Fairfax. Aad the little figure is drawn up, and the baby face takes au expression for a which warns Vane he has gone too far, “Who would have thought,” he mur- murs into his beard, ‘that the little pussy cat could show such claws?” Meanwhile Mrs, Fairfax has nsen they don’t bring The servant mumbles name which she does not catch, and she lifts her pretty appealing eyes in some per. plexity to the stranger's face. Something she reads in that grave, bronzed conntenance brings back ola memories—recalling » tims long passed away, before poor Jack Fairfax won her with his hasty, impetaous tale of love-~before she had, as it were, leaped suddenly from childhood into the glare and excitement of a spoiled beguty’s life, Nor is the dream dis pelled when the visitor speaks, uncon- ih the gentleness he would have used addressing a child “You Lave not forgotten me, Mrs, 1 do not wonder-~it is years since we met—and— “No, no,” she suddenly cried, with a “Yon are Captain CGirahsme-—my playlellow of long ago, 1 remember you quite well; ut so mach has happened mince those days" “1 know,” he answered, gently, wondering whether the shadow io her blue eyes ic caused by Jack's memory, or—-as he looks at the handsome young fellow so evidently a: howe in this garden-~by Jack's chosen suodessor. And then the two mon glare al oue another, after the fashion common to Englshmen whon they meet for the first time, and are unceriain whether to be on Iriendly terms or to fly at each other's throats, “8ir Regoald Vene—Uaptain no, it ws Colonel now, surely? I thought so ~Colonel Grahame,” And while a stiff pow is exchanged sho proceeds to poar ont the tea Vine renews his attentions to Queenie, but spe LCL sutue perverse justinet wl | coquetry bestows all her favors upon | the colonel, whose grave aspeot would | hardly prove attractive to children in | general, Xet it melts into a kindly | smile as, lifting the little one npon his | knee, he glances from her face to that { of her mother, older only by some | eighteen years, and recalls the days when Nina Forrester had sat as con- | fidingly on the knee of the shy young i cornet, | **You will let me seull you up the river, Mrs, Fairfax?” says Vane, as he puts down his tea-cup. “I have not | forgotten” (here his voice takes un more | tender flection) *‘our last experience to Hampton Court.” | “Mrs, Fairfax looks doubtfully to- | ward her other guest, who somewhat sti fly observes: ‘Don't let me bo any | hinderance to your plans, Or perhaps you will allow me to take au oar in | your service?” Vane's face darkens, bat ths widow {claps ber hands and answers gaily; | “Capital! It would really have been | hard work for ono alone in this boat.” So Qnesnie runs to fetch her mother’s | hat, but at the last moment finds the | charms of a favorite kittens society | irresistible, and selects to remain on terra firma herself, | Vane pulls stroke, and the boat glides | smoothly away from the emerald bank and out into the glassy expanss of | water, amil scores of others gayly laden with a similar freight, and look- ling as if playing their part in some holiday scene, ““This has been very murmurs Vane, bending forward so that his words are audible to the fair steerer only, “My pleasant afternoon all spoiled because ‘‘Boacanse you a foolish, sell | willed boy,” answers the little woman, who albeit some tour years his junior, sometimes likes to play at maternal airs, “Coma, shake oft your fit of the hard on me,” ate 1 have blurted out the words, but it too late to recall them. She flashes a glance at him, and he meets it steadily, expecting to be assailed with a torrent of feminine wrath, but is takne back nt meeting instead a sudden burst of tears. “Mrs, Fairfax--what a brute I am forgive me, I have lived so much alone that I nave fallen into-a dreadful habit of speaking my thoughts aloud.” “But how came you to have thoughts?” “Could I help it? Only last night 1 heard your names coupled together by the voice of common gossip, and to-day have I not seen somes confirmation the report? And I would not presume to find fault, though 1 was once not only Jack's friend, but almost a rough elder brother to you in the forgotten such of “Not forgotten,” murmurs a stifled came to see me.” “It was best not, 1. and trusted me--his mentor to call me, poor boy! But now- now, Nina, I cannot but think of the old days when I see you about to take an irre- trievable step with one whom I can- not think worthy —" ‘‘You are jealousl Our grave colonel actually condescending to such weak- sess! you think Sir R:giuald Vane unworthy “His dishonorable conduct towards another woman, Forgive me, Nina Heaven knows I would sooner bite my tongue ont than say it—but he is play ing a double part in this, making up to you for fortune, while his hear! he has to give—belongs to Miss Elliot, I saw him by hor side last night, I watched the looks and signs that passed between them, and I speak solemn truth what t acs blues! Be agre and stay and dine with ns” : “With us? Are you going" low) *““to iuvite that fellow too?” “Certainly I am, He is one my oldest friends”-—(*‘old enough!” grumbles Vane)—*‘and { have not seen | him for years, We have heaps of things to say to oue cable { Yery § Ui very another,” ‘*I'hen vou better wginald, io will certainly get through uninterrupted,” says spiteful sotio Nit HA YOIOK Tt Fairfax, but that 1 to dine out afraid I shall have to at # [ have jnst remembered to-night, I ASK fo y that 1 can ge more t Lil am | Yana land Sarbiton, Steer Tr £ i raiu, fase: you Bit 48 ¥ EF MC. “*What are again that sweet, and rather YOu Vane grads hs than spreads preadit HOO | surbiton 1s Teaco ¢ ’ * ¥ 3 ve sarcely attempts to disg Co befor¢han i. the HK, GY 11} 3 LAREN stained sundry pt loquy, and his face 1 than usual a steps wut) d possesses him d with a vigorous str more in motion, the seat ar ©. A ke the at widow's eye the first time lights upon the maimed ad, and abe in 3 happen’ xolsims 3: 1 «4 isa 5 £ : 3 HW Honth Africa—long be afraid, My scenlling may what clumsy, but I will promise {0 you home in due course of time. “On, [ was not thanking of mysalf. | But does it hurt you? 1 am so sores I did not kuow before Sir Regin- ald left us, could I help you, | i wonder?” “With those tiny hands of yours? | No, no, I am getting on perfectly well; | mt give that steam launch more space, | or we shall get a tossing after she has | passed.” A silence follows, during which both are busy with their own reflections, | When Mrs, Fairfax lifts her eyes 10 her | companion’s face it is so grave that she { exclaims in wonder: “] was going to say, ‘A penny [Or] | your thoughts,’ but from the expres- | ston of your countenance yours must ; | be weighty enough to be worth more ! Won't you be generous and impar | them gratis?” A long pause, during which she leans | over the side of the boat and 1dly dab- bles one hand in the water. ‘Puke care,” he says, “yon will lose your rings." “{ have none on that hand exiep | She takes the little wile dungers val | | of the water and gazes hail sadiy on the | thick gold band Jack's wedding-ring | placed there six years ago, and only | eaghiteen months belore Jack's own | | honest heart was still and cold. Leslie Grabame is Jooking at it also, nim to Poa’t 80m te got So ago. il Im 14 Hel not Or stay warningly, ! and somehow the might nerves t the aext words he has 10 say. It 1s a long time sinse we met, is it { wot? | was riding witu poor Jack when | ne bought that ring, sud a fow days later I had orders for India, and so 1 | missed the wedding, But [ did not forget my oid friend or uis bride—nor,” he adds more gently, “did 1 forget you when sadder news reached me, Poor Jack,” he says, dreamily, his thougnts busy with the boy friend of his youth, and in a manner forgeiting that he 1s speaking to that friend's widow; *‘s0 yonug, so open-hearted and generous,” «All that sud more,” she says, quick. ly; “*he was too good for ims cold, nard world, Ah me, fo think thas Jack, wito was so strong, should have been taken sod hitsle me left to lace lite alone,” “You have your child.” Uncoa- seriously bis tose bas grown a little sleru nial, Daring Queenie! Yes, Dat it is dali sometiues, aud vue Wauls HO ne Ole WW Sous jess vi,’ when I say that 1 believe he has w that poor girl's affections, and ths he . that 1 have brought a cloud over always connected shine, I wil! go my Cares Ww % the boat into tae resting on his oars waits ng ashore and give hin dismissal, Dr Nina does Her head is bent down d 4 for his 108 | i $ 3 i i sprin 1 sb AN move, overshadowed by her hat that ne ¢an- read the ifaze in a burst yr i insulta and you have borae it like an jut as yon used to in the old days when I was a ug unmaaly boy, aud tyranized over you like the ruflian i Was, “And I liked you through Thais was spoken very softly. “Nina, Nina, do not drive me mad You can do it—you always ocould--I went away years ago because I knew you cared for Jack.” “You did? “Was I not right? You would mever | have ohosen me—the grave, stern | Scotchman, fifteen years your ssnior— | tid 144 this u ngel all.’ lad. And now don't think, | you. I would not have seen you to- yon unwarned of the gossip afloat. Dat | and your own brave little heart your best defense. Good-bye, Say once that yon forg ive me- as you used to long ago.” © Lisalie!” a se iown to moor the boat, does not arrive « minute sooner, or his astonished eyes what Queenie after- wards mysteriously reports: “My mammie crying, and Colonel Grahame comforting her, as mammie does when mand on nis shoulder and stroking her hair.’ For Leslic Grahame's long-repreased the little piayfellow of early days--ihe prizo which he gave ap ia bitter self. to him the *‘ves,” which, had he been more far-sighted, might years of seltunficted exile. LAA SAA WY WI 50 In Prussia the sale o! poisonous and arsenical fly papers is only permitted to ehemists and those who are authorized to deal in poisons, Such persons even are only permitted to sell them under the samo regulations as must be ved In the sale of all poisons, regulations require that a poison floate be given with them, and also that the word *‘poisonous” be stamped upon them. Io this conutry children have more than onoe besu seriously injured Ly the poison upon fly -papers,« 4 sold without caution. These #onpeh corn shoul 0: vat for ent. ing jast as the tasset blooms, If eut of ad You bios pwd Hud that wae » ¥ ‘ Olt an Boo bib ain Vand iss wae §¥ of 90 Late vie quality is in. jae: ls 1 songs and song Writing Justice Charles 1’, Daly read an in- | teresting article on “Songs and Song | Writing’ before the New York ilistor- | jeal Society recently. He said at the | outset that there was a great difference | between things that were written for songs and songs that were really songs. The troubadours knew what a song was | when they defined it as a piece of verse { that is fit to be sung. It was what | Milton happily called tiie marriage of | music and words, To be a successful song writer one must be both a line [poet and possessed of a fine ear for music. It was this that made the brilliant lyric successes of Burns and Moore. The Chief Justice considered musical instruments at length, Egyptian hier. | oglyphics proved, he said, that the old- | est nations on the globe had these in- siraments and used them, Illow they used them was a mystery to modern people. Ancient mural paintings show- ed beyond a doubt, however, that the Egyptians had music for religious cere- monies and social entertainments, They | were a lively, cheerful and gay people. who liked social enjoyment. Their in- struments of music were prototypes of | modern implements of melody. mausoleum in Thebes some time ago | there was found a harp, with catgut strings, that had lain silent for 3,000 years, The moment a human hand swe)! trings they gave forth the 1 il harmony. In their hier- oglyphics the Egyptians also preserved their songs. Ope in particular was | translated, and found the song of 4 i Ol i i Lis { threshera who beat the wheat, Two | 1 po : i Babylonian were recent dis { W tbhylonias th Li Wh BONIS ly covered h plowimnen | BAN hie iit ari ¥ o wi vin vin 5 5 wi g 1] He next ¢ They 1 msidered fourished for 250 wh ] taught 1860, ‘Why, the moves whea 1 was elg Hege studyir Nowit t teen years old i natural I went to the Uni- where there was a | chess and where 1 was beaten nine out of every ten games I played, This was in June 1861. Then 1 began in fact, I became infat- uated with the game, 1 played in the day time and read chess books at night. By the following February there was no man living who could give me the odds of a knight, The great Anderson was in Breslau and we played together a | greal deal, na series of twenty-four Was al the SC en. 3 Ces, 3 versity o club, © knight, I won twenty anid drew two, “In reading the chess books so much i discovered my capacity for carrying a game as { read it, without looking at a board, in much the same way as a I culli- vated the faculty, and finding that I could play one game blindfolded, I tried to play two games, and was suc easful, | In January, 1868, I gave my first public exhibition blindfold playing. 1 played seven games at that time, and afterwards nine games. 1 never played | eight that 1 can remember, Gradually I run number up from nine Ww twelve, and finally to sixteen. That is { as many games as 1 have ever attempted | blindfold, and no other player has ever { done as much. I played the sixteen in the West End Chess Club of London, | December 11, 18068, against sixteen of | the strongest amateur players of the SG | George's and and West End Clubs. i ! won twelve, drew three, and lost but one. The single winner was an Ameri- can gentleman living in London, Mr. LW, Baliard, The games that 1 played | recently at the Manhattan Coess Club | were not « fair test ol my skill, because { of the noise and interruptions to which | I was subjected.” ! “Can you play nore | games, do you think?" “[ have no doubt of it. 1 think there is no mental limit to the number of games I might play, but there is a physical Jimit; it is very wearying work.” “Do you play simply from memory.” “1 have un way ot photographing « board in my mind, and-—the boards being numbered--when one is called, the photograph of the position of the men on that comes Instantly before my mind while the last board as On 0 the than sixteen i 1 quickly disappears. 1 never see two boards before ine even My mind at such tines upon which a magic janie rn shadow. amd just as the changed in the magic photographs of the ches before my eyes.” “Do yon adopt a certain inks when you undertake number of blindfold games that style of opening was ular board?”’ “No, 1 go entirely by the poards. Each game tified in my mind with ac call that number and The most diffic part playing is not, INAny BUppos wards the conclusions of but in the the pieces On LWo or the games progress i recall them, A board into Gy mind precisely as the last move, 1 never over the moves to find oul stand, I can at any time moves in the regular order. rames in Glasgow bl and the play is for itive pict nlern board cha ol hie series yOu Ty 741 lt it an beginning of are apt Lo be more boards, Fie Ai WAYS £ i A CAN bees area 4 have to g buosw tH DOW Li “ry but oi wel ves twelve ¢ nner g ' I eYery mal, twels { the ve asked many good chess pi blindfolded d how a piay mprene dy dS WE iW Doara’s reader ¥ Sais rested in and Germar window They relals iv US diseases and the benel There ei Li Ty ud written ior AR with the driver for one, many times repeated, a over the fare-box by the door, requested the passengers to x.” This legend sg ‘put the exact the Ix ne DN tion bound ATTOWHOSS Often 1 do not Dy ke the exact five « the rule, fo put iron wens ¢ . wou in nore, less, than allowance is made {om 1 1 ana i {ie Olas varyl 1% 1 ur 11 WOnGer ii real justice pany, anxious 4 wi ' and sther 3 wouk 0oN ery 1% { he {travele: by and restore the excess, as it ig to follow him when If this is not then the company should he puts in too little. the meaning of “exact,” i more anxious to make money than to do justice. I do not suppose this 18 so, but there is one SUSPICIOUS thing about a horse