» BY THESEA, The sea, in golden sunset glow, Went rushing madly by us; We sat by the fishermen's lonely hut, Silent and no one nigh us. The mists unrove, the waves dashed high *Mid sea-birds wildly calling And from your eyes, so full of love, Gently the tears came falling, I saw them fall upon your hand; Then, on my knee low sinking, I, from that dainty little hand, Those precious tears was drinking. Now, since that hour, in woe my soul Has raged to see thee madly; Al, the wretched maid has polsonad mo With tears I drank so gladly. “OLD MRE. BINNEY.” All their friends had said, when Mrs, Binney died: **Now what a good thing it would be if old Mr. Binpey would marry Miss Bright!" Miss Bright had not been without her troubles, and very hard ones they had been, too, but she bore them with a brave heart, and carried a smiling face, and had a thankful spirit within her, striving always to remember her bless- ings. and how much they outnumbered auy evils she was called upon to bear. Indeed, to listen to Miss Bright's showing, you would have counted her as one of the luckiest persons ever born. She had bad the kindest of friends, the most comfortable of situations, and the girls she bad taught were endowed with an amiability of disposition which made it a positive pleasure to be with them. The only accusation she could bring against them was that they were all in such a terrible hutry to grow up and get married, and then Miss Bright's occupation was gone, and she had fo step out into the world and find a fresh | field for her labors, As years rolled on, each one adding to the score of Miss Bright's age, these hunting-grounds of instruction became more and more narrowed. Children of eight began now where girls of eighteen used to leave off, and history and geo- graphy, to say nothing of the parts of speech and grammar, were all so alter- ed, that poor little Miss Bright bad to acknowledge that at times she really did feel quite confused. ‘‘Very soon I shan’t be left with anything to teach,” she used to say, pathetically, and then Mr. Binney’s nephew, Joe, or some other good fellow who heard her, would declare she should set up a school for wives, for there never were such wives brought Joe's wife, since up. She had taught then she had bad other situations, at holiday time, or whenever she was ed to the house of Dr. Brendon, their father. time found Miss Bright there, and hap- pening here to bring the news that Mrs, ney was ill, with no one whose busi- it seemed to be to look after her, nothing was more «Mi ss Bright should volunteer; great comfort they found her. So sprightly, eery little woman, that Mrs. Binney herself was influenced in her favor, nd Ci fort, Mr. Bright ther, “Why not?’" he said. *“*We could well afford to pay her a salary.”’ But this word, salary, acting like magic on Mrs. Binney, seemed to bring her to her senses immediately, She would be very glad to have Miss Bright as a visitor, as long as she liked to stay, but as to live with them altogether—no, she would not give her consent to that: she had always objected to having in her house a third party. It was then that Miss Bright's friends pulled very long faces indeed. What would she do? they asked her. **Oh, something is sure to turn up,” she would say, hopefully, “Whenever I have come to my last ebb an opening has always been made for me; and I am not going to despair now.” And she said this all the more em- phatically, because, in spite of her con- fidence, she could not help feeling that a voice, which she could not still, kept repeating: “What will you do when you grow older? Teaching will get harder then ever.” That was true enough, but what else was there for her to do? When Mrs. Binney died, which hap- pened quite suddenly about a year ve- fore, there had been some talk as to Miss Bright going to Mr. Binney’s as housekeeper; but this proposition had been made without the knowledge or consent of the principal person con- cerned, who, as soon &s the hint was given, negatived it, Mr. Binney thoroughly appreciated Miss Bright, but he had lost his taste for matrimony. He remembered that he had spent forty excellent years with- out a wife, and, notwi that he was now a widower, he could not conscientiously say that he felt his state to be so very unhappy. Susan, the cook, respectable and staid, would, he felt sure, manage his household properly, and if it proved that she should give way to extrava. gance, as people seemed to say she would. Mr. Binney fapcied that he should stay with them altoge- could better put up with that evil than with too much of the economy from which he had suffered already. S50 all the hopes, that, on the death of Mrs, Binney, Joe, and Sally, and the Brendons, had cherished for Miss Bright, were ruthlessly dashed to the ground, Evidently Aunt Binney was not to have a successor, “If we could but have got her there as housekeeper,” said two of those arch conspirators, ‘“‘the rest would have been casy.” But though they returned to the at- tack several times, no good came of it. Mr. Binney shared in their regret at the loss of Miss Bright's pupils, won- dered, as they did, what would become of her, and, his visitors gone, to make his sympathy apparent, he sat down and wrote a kind little note, with a check for £10 folded within it. “He's an old stupid!” said Sally, “and now she is going away altogether ever so far’’—for Miss Bright had hs another piece of news to tell. An old pupil of early days, had been recently left a widow; her health was as delicate as ber heart was kind, and when she made the proposition that Miss Bright should come and spend the remainder of her days with her, it was not entirely of her own comfort that she had been thinking. Miss Bright had readily ac- cepted ber offer, and she had written to tell Sally that the next week she should come up and sée them. She could only stay a few hours with them when she came. The farewell visit was to be paid later. “But I think,” she said, as she was going, “that I will call, on my way home, and say good-bye to Mr. Binney, in case I might not have another op- “Do,” sald Sally, and away she Mr. Binney was at home. He had not been quite well lately; nothing more than a cold, but it had kept him a | prisoner, To-day he might have gone out, but he had not felt incliced to, and he gallantly said he was glad to be in, as he should have been sorry ind indeed to have missed seeing Miss Bright. - = And 50 you are really golng to leave us?” he said, and almost regretfully, too. “Well, you will be very much missed, I don’t know what the Bren- dons will do.” “They will not miss me more than 1 shall them.” snd the brave little wo- man made an effort that her voice | Mr. Binney, I am not growing younger, “No,” he said, ‘that is true, 1 was | saying the very same to myself of my- self, only to-day.” “Yes, only with men it does not seem to matter, but with women the | thought always comes with a little shudder that when we get old and want a little quiet and rest, and a comfor- | table arm-chair by the i doubt whether we 3 them.” Mr. Binney did not answer, i ing she was saying i OWnD whic fon fire, there is a | 5 akl ¥ v hall be able to get and fear- | much about her | altered her h had been a little sad, and went | in her usual 1 Way; “Bat then I ought to feel so thankful is opening has $ & me, toid them that 100 % feelings, tone, 3 Po o} £14 CReeriil hat oy in 3 hing would come; it ; I have always bee n so lucky.” “It's your happy disposition makes | you say so, | cheerful spirit shortens the longest day, 1 wish I could follow your example. I often feel condemned at my want of contentment—of gratitude, I ought to say.” Butthat Miss Bright would not allow. She reminded My. Binney of the many kind actions he had done, and in her own quiet way thanked him tor the thoughtful present he had sent to her, “No, no, no, now you must not speak of that,” Mr, Binney hastily interrupted her; and to give a tum to the conversation, he said she *“‘must have seme tea,’’ and, ringing to order it, he hoped she could stay. Well, yes, she thought she could spare time for that—indeed, to be plain, she was not in such a very great hurry, The fact had been that Joe had had an unexpected holiday, and she saw that, only for her being there, he had come home to go out somewhere with Sally, “So I hope that little fib I told you will be forgiven me, for when 1 said that I was wanted at home, although it was quite true perhaps, I need not but for that have left quite so early, But it was so nice of Joe to come home, I do love to see husbands and wives companions to each other.” ! “Ab, indeed, yes; that is the object of matrimony too often, I fear, lost sight of in our day, by the young and the old, too,” But Miss Bright did not agree. “No, she knew so many united couples, There were the Brendons now" but at this moment the tea was brought in, and Miss Bright asked should sbe pour 18 out. Her offer was accepted, “Only,” sald Mr, Binney, “you must take off your cloak, or you won't feel the good of it when you go, and your bonnet, too, wouldn't you be more comfortable without that?” Miss Dright said “no,’’ she would not take her bonnet off, “Haven't a cap with you, I supposey”’ said the old gentleman silly, } . As Sally—-and a very becoming one, too," “Put it on then, and let me pass my opinion, *’ : “Miss Bright hastened. to obey, and when she came for his inspection the smile on her face and the soft pink mn her cheek made her look ten years younger, “Well,” she said, “nosy what do you think of it.” “1 think if you take my advice you will never wear any other,” “Really,” and she laughed softly; “but it is for high days and holidays, you know!”’ and she tip-toed to look in the chimney-glass, saying that it cer- tainly was a very pretty cap, and then she sat down to pour out the tea, “The best tea things!” she said admiringly; “I am so fond of pretty china!’ And then, searching in the sugar basin, she added: *‘I have not forgotten that you hike two lumps of sugar you see,” Mr, Binney smiled complacently; a feeling of well-being and comfort took possession of him, Of a certaintylit was very pleasant to have a congenial somebody to bear one company—one who could talk well, listen well and hold her tongue well, if necessary. Experience had assured him of that. Miss Bright possessed each of these good qnalities. When she had stayed there when Mrs, Binney was first ill, their evenings had passed very pleasantly , and recalling the things they had done, he asked: “Du you often play c “No, never,” *‘Cribbage, backgammon?" “I've no one to play with, That is one thing mn my going away,” and she swallowed a sigh—‘'‘my evenings will be less lonely,” “Ab, I find the time very long after dinner, I don’t like to go to bed before half-past ten, although 1 often feel inclined to,’ “0 SAn d the 2 draw in so qui iekfy now there is no afternoon—it is al evening, which reminds me that it is getting time for me to go, for it takes me Quite an hour to get to the stat- jon,’ Tot in a cab? “No, but I am { goleig to walk; itis quite fine and dry, and if I feel tired at the Conway road I shall walt at the corner for the omnibus passing.” Miss Bright began to put on her bon- net. Mr, Binney walked to the win- dow; for a miuute he looked out, then he rang the bell. *1 shall go as far as the Conway road with you.” “Oh, Mr, Binuey! No, pray don't think of such a thing; It might give you a cold, and there isn't the slightest occasion—I am so accustomed to go about alone.” Jut Mr. Binney remained firm; his hat and coat were brought to him; and away the two set off together. They hatted pleasantly as they walked along. il hope to come and see them all Miss Bright said. as long as the Brendon home they wi “And " . hess now?” yes; $a Al es 3% il take me in. remember that ently was wd they nney appal niorm ne . walked on the silently until Conway road was “Now, then,” said Miss Bright, “here we say farewell,” and she held out her hand, but Mr. Binnoy did not take it; he was engaged in baling a cad he saw; then he drew out his purse and Miss Bright knew that he intended settling with the man for the fare, She shook her head at him reprovingly, Mr. Binney gave the directions to the driver and then he held out his hand, hesitated, opened the door and said, “I don’t see why 1 should not go with you as far as the station,” At the railway station they had but a very short time of waiting. Miss Bright stood near the carriage which she had chosen; nothing remained but to say good-bye and enter, “And you will let us hear how you get on?” for she had not said she was coming up again, “Oh, 1 shall often write to the Bren- dons and Sally. You will hear of me through them.” “And I hope very much that you will be comfortable and happy. Miss Bright tried to smile, but her eyes filled rapidly, and to hide the tears she half turned away. “1 wish that you were not obliged to go away. Couldn't anything be man. aged for you?" ~he shook her head sadly, “No,” she said; ‘I tried every thing I could” ~and here a sob would come—*but nobody seemed to want me.” “I—I want you!” Mr, Binney was stammering out his words excitedly, “Miss Bright, can you-~will you stay for me? Could you consent to become Mrs, Binney?" ‘Mrs. Binney l--1"--everything seem- ed to wim around her—*‘but, Mr, Binney, such an idea never once oc- curred.” “I am very sure of that, my dear," he raid earnestly, “and it has taken some time to come to me, or I should have made the offer long ago, however, better late than never-this is if you will accept me.” “Yes, indeed I have--a present from “Oh, but I thnk it is so good of you —and you feel sure that I can make you happy. What will the Brendons and Sally say?" “Say, that I am more lucky than I deserve to be for not asking you be- fore, Now 1 understand why I wouldn't consent to your being my housekeeper; 1 was wanting y ou for my wife, you know. Miss Bright held u dismay, “Oh, my!” she cried, “‘there’s the tran off —gone, I declare!” “What of that, if it is? Another will soon follow, and while we are waiting for it we can arrange our plans and fix the day, And if any one wishes to know how it all ended, I can satisfy their curiosity by telling them that a more happy, cheery couple never were seen than the present Mr, and Mrs. Binney, p her hands in “Made a Night of It.” Mr. Saxe had long been a contributor to The Knickerbocker and a correspon- dent of its editor before he and that editor met, One day Lewis Gaylord Clark was seated in his library, bard at work, when a stranger opened the door and entered unannounced. He was a large man, whose thick boots and mod- est raiment were covered with country dust, “Hello, Clark,” he said, “how alr you? How's the folks? Wot's new?" Clark, who was the pink of courtesy, arose, bowed stiffly and begged the stranger to be seated. “Wal, old fel- ler, how'er yer bin?" resumed the visi- tor after he had taken a seat. “look rayther yaller "bout the dewlaps, Not bin h'istin’ too mueh gin and pepper. mint, 1 hope—eh?” “Sir!” answered Clark with digmty, *‘may I inquire whom I have—" ‘How's Clara and the young folks?” “Sir!” All the time the stranger was propounding these kindly ing quiri ies he w as edging his ¢ cain bit by vit closer and closer (Mr. 1 beginning to get quite nervous, was vainly trying to keep his distance by the same system of tactics, “Well, Old Hoss, I'm mighty glad to see yer, Give us a grip of yer potato rake’— extending his own hand cordially, and then bringing it down with a thump on the writing table, which made the pens and ink and all the little articles of virtu jump again “Say, Lewis, 1 feel dry. You hain’t got no rum ‘round the shanty, hev yer? No, I bet you've bin and soaked it all up yourself, ve old sinner; and here he poked Clark in the ribs with the end of a piece of shrub- bery which stood to him in place of a cane, at the same time advancing his chair two hitches on Clark's left flank, “But, say, Clark, I'll tell yer you lend me a quarter and I'l run up to that gin-mill on the corner and get yer bottle filled, then we'll hev a quiet sociable time together, What d’'yer say. Isita deal?’ Here the stranger trrew himself back in hi | taising one of his huge {laid it confidingly on * sald Clark, “I dave not the | quaintance, { to leave land my tine of val . | Again the stranger threw himself back {in his chair, and, laughing heartily, ex- claimed: “Excuse my joke, Mr. Clark, | but I am John G, Saxe. I thought we | had known each other long enough by | correspondence, and ought to make each other's acquaintance-~personally, 80 I have just take: river to see yon.” When Clark had re- covered from his first astonishment he shook lus old contributor cordially by the hand, and tradition says they “made anight of it © Clark, who, jumping to} Yon gay ve pieasul © and must there my house, as Lot f fist LE} %s 5 3 ¥ poh sa i TOY Privacy +5 ge to mu are Financial Diplomacy of Women. Scene: A Street Car, Pittsburg Enter two young ladies, who look at one another; out of the window; up at the roof; and everywhere but where the conductor patiently stands waiting Lis fare, Conductor—* Fare, pleasel”’ Out come two portemounnaies from two alligator bags. “I've the change. “So've 1.” “No, let me.” “J can’t think of it.» “Oh, you must.” “No, no, I shan’t.” “But you really must.” Conductor—**Fare, please!” Two hands are slowly extended towards him, when suddenly one comes back with a jerk and *‘I declare how provoking. That's a ten cents with a hole in it.” Backed by a queer persimmon smile, the other hand drops its two nickles, while its owner will not look atthe other girl for two blocks, and vows mentally that she is the mea nest, stingi- est, trickiest thing that ever lived, and she'll never, never speak to her again, A ——————— I WII 155 The Himalayan Chain, Mount Everest, 20,002 feet above the level of the sea, seems not to be after all the highest peak of the Himalayan chain. Mr. Graham and his two Swiss guides, while attempting to scale some of the high summits of the range dis. tinetly saw two peaks to the north-west of Mount Everest, which they believed to be much higher. On hearing of this discovery Gen, Thuillier, of the Indian Trigonometrical Survey, thought it quite probable that there were higher mountains in the chain than Mount Everest, " Ancient England, People in search of sensation could not do better than read up the ancient history of England, To go back ages ago, before the channel which now di- vides it from France was cut by the sea, and from when what is now far Italy beast and bird had a firm foothold as far north as the present John O'Groat’s house, is to meet with as strange a scene as in any romance, But even upon its uplands at preseut, along the Yorkshire wolds and the southern downs, wonderful evidences may be found of the various races who have lived and dled within the narrow insular boundaries, The graves of long-headed men and broad-headed men, coming from where we know not, and being succeeded by people whose names are lost in the mist of antiquity, give to the greater part of Britain a curious interest to the archmologist. Now add again, in their search after truth, busy antiquarians exbume [the bones of these well-known tribes, pick up bits of their drinking-horns, of the weapons they used, of the gold clasps to their flowing cloaks, or one and another of the trifies of their household existence, But, after all, speculation a8 to their mode of life, their thoughts, and their faith is very much a mapping out of the dark. Perhaps a few thou- sand years hence, though it is difficult to believe it, some busy hands will exhume us, and wonder what we did, and what we thought. This much, however, is certain that when Rome was the Ewpress of Europe, the aver- age Roman citizen could no more con- the fact that the “‘Seven-hilled city’ and its power could decay, than ve at the present moment can imagine, a time when London will not be a dim memory, but a dreary and people-less ceive smal — Fashion in Carriages. This season more change has been wade In ladies’ and gentlemen's phae- tons than in any other class of vehicle, There is not only great variety of de- signs and originality in the style of the bodies, but the suspension is also differ- ent from that heretofore made, replace in a great measure the and as a consequence the latter is ing faver to a certain extent, A parture has also been made in T-cart being a combination of the same wi ith the gentleman's phaeton, and seems to take well, the appearance being greatly MpEoy ed, Surreys have also been greatly chang- ed in appearance, and we have pubiish- ed them suspended on both side spars wilh cross-springs and elliptic-springs front and back. Village carts and buggies remain practically the same, Basket work for village carts is the latest, and the colors of painting of various but these chan ges are not significant, While the painting vehicles is in conformity wi T-.cart, lose de- Lives, various ith the of tice the gaudy colo some extent last «1 with more sub- 1a Broughams the t, black, and Jake," is now rarely panels being the same rena: fay ha green for i the 1 that prevailed to | Sea upper the lower seen, the with a lower upper beautiful dark ——————— I A —————— The Galop. 1t is very remarkable that the “galop”’ should still find a place upon the dance programme of otherwise well-<conducted socials; of all the wild-ranting-tearing- clumsy- thunder-and- lightning- Arkan- san-cyclone-like affairs, the modern “galop’’ takes the prize *biskit.’”’ Com- pared to it the Australian boomerang- throwing cannibal’s war-dance is a graceful, modulating, dreamy sort of lullaby. The spectacle of a room full of supposedly sane people flying around like “all possessed,” each couple bump- ing into anything and everything before them in an apparently futile effort to appear more wildly ridicul jus than the rest, is not a pleasant one to contemplate, The modern galop can by no stretch of the imagination be called a dance, and as an athletic exercise it is entirely too severe to be indulged in withodt pre. vious training, and al any rate is en- tirely out of place in a ball room. It should be “*boyeotted” at once, labeled “Hpightmare’’ and buriea. — The First Frominm, A life-insurance agent who had been working up a considerable business at Fort Scott, Kansas, was one day ap- proached by a tough-looking customer, who wanted to take out a $5000 policy He quired about the cost and other particulars and finally remarked: ‘Well, stranger, when you kin put the figgers down about one-half you kin send for me.) “Oh, I couldn't do that.” “Mebbe not, but them’s my terms.’ When the man had departed the agent went out to inquire who he was, and a citizen replied: “Why that Bill Callahan, What did he want?” “Wanted some insurance at half rates.” * Gave it to him!" “Dll see him hanged first! Why should 1 make a reduction to him?” “Because you've got insurance on at least twenty of us here, and if you don’t come to Bill's figures he'll kill a full dozen of us before the year 1s out! Better consult the interests of the com- pany and make a reduction.” The next day William liad a policy on which a shake-purse paid the first premium, ¥OOp ¥OR THOUGHT. Justice is truth in action. To get rid of a bad friend, ask him for what you most need, Nothing is ever done which is done in rivalship. Hea lives most who thinks the novlest, acts the best, Honor demanded is us worthless as insult undeserved is hurtle BE, love 13 otter than spectacles to make everyluing seem great A great misfortune gives grande: even to an insignificant being. Women like brave men exceedingly; audacious men still more, Try what forgiveness will do before You resort to punishment To learn much we must learn a little at a time and learn that well, Discontent is the want of se ance: it is the in firmity of will, A lover has all the virtues and all the defects that a husband has not. The path of duty in this world is ¢ road to salvation in the next, Courtesy is never out of place, Iti as easy 10 look and speak pl leasantly, as the reverse, They that spend their days in faith and prayer, shall end their peace and comfort. He that voluntarily continues igno: ant, is guilty of all the crimes which ignorance produces, There are in certain heads a kind of established errors against which reas has no weapons, The progress of rivers to the « not so rapid as that of ma The readiest and surest rid of censure is to correct our oing is 80 credulous ignorant as of what bx i: hat ac tion is best that greatest happiness for numbers, beautifully 4 ¥ IOs, 3 if-relie fave Gays in Where a cause is good, an appeal should be directed to the heart rathe than the head. The whole duty of a ma in the two principles of al patience, A certain amount of wholesome, but not so mu as of ourselves, One of the greatest blessings enjoy is a sender, ened conscier No cord or dle can draw so or bind so fast as love can do a single thread, lepentance like conti nually mending the leak, Give poor. Th 1 Sormser drive 5 01 the latter Industry. It is best to love wisely no doubt; © Jove foolishly is better than not t be able to lgve at all. Our grand business is, not t what lies dimly at a distance, b what lies clearly at hand. False fears bring on tr: the imaginary grievances of arc more ti ian the real. It is certain that eithe or ignorant pode ih is : take disease one of another, honest, and without amendment pum} not the be if even appeal to of fortune tu: and who can eas , and who can sa il to-day be up vices which 1 frinnde } 1 ANENGS, OEE Man is all in all all 10 All, lesomme the sane flower wi 5 y but Kno or of the great tl e would not be Open your mouth apd purse cautio ly, and your stock of wealth shall, at great What makes many tented with their own condition is the absurd idea they form of the happiness of others, Wounds and hardships provoke our courage, and when our fortunes are at the low est, our wits and minds are com- mon iy at the best, Believe nothing against another but ut on good authority; nor report what may hurt another, uniess it be greater hurt to another to conceal it, By desiring what is perfectly good, even when we don’t know what it is; and can not do what we would, we are part of the divine power against evil Weigh not so much what men assert, as what they prove; remembering that truth is sample and naked, and | needs not invention to apparel her comeliness, Mental pleasures never cloy. Unlike those of the body, they are increased by repetition, approved of Ly reflection and strengthened by enjoyment, Never confide your secreis to paper; it is like throwing a stone in the air, and if you know who throws the stone, you ¢o not know where it may fail. Affectation is certain deformity; by forming themselves on fantastic models the young begin with beiug ridiculous, and often end in being vicious. Every action done to be seen has lost its freshness in the eves of God, It is a flower already withered by having through several hands, and has @ scarcely presentable, True joy is a serene and sober emo- tion; and they are miserably out that take laughing for rejoicing; the seat of itis within, and there is no cheer fulness like the resolution of a brave What a woman should demand of a man in courtship, or after it is, first respect for her asshe is a woman, and next to that, to be respected by hun above all other women, Such as [AVS Virtus always fu their and si Sound in a sound nr its own body the music pro- - i 8. » oy vs myiel repuiation and WK easy in repule, Persons Qiscon- ing to olhers, wholly insensible to duced.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers