a ——————————————————
TO HEAR HER SING,
To hear her sing—it is to hear
The laugh of childhood ringing clear
In woody path or grassy lane
Our feet may never fare again,
Faint, far away as memory dwells,
It is to hear the village bells
At twilignt, as the truant hears
Them, hastening home, with smiles and
tears,
Buch joy it 1s to hear her sing,
We fall in love with everything—
The simple things of every day
Grow lovelier than words can say.
The idle brooks that purl across
The gleaming pebbles and the moss,
We love no less than classic streams
The Rhines and Amos of our dreams,
To hear Ler sing—with folded eyes,
Tt is beneath Venetian skins,
To hear the gondoliers’ refrain;
Qr troubadors of sunny Spain.
To hear tke bulbul’s voice that shook
The throat that trilled for Lalla Rookh,
What wonder we in homage bring
Our hearts to her—to hear her sing,
RRR
MARIETYTE'S HAIR.
Little Mariette had long vellow hair.
It was so long that it fell almost to
her knees whenever she pulled her
comb trom it and tossed her head, like
a bird shaking its plumes. It was as
yellow as ripened grain and showed
golden lights that made one imagine
that it had caught and imprisioned the
light of the morning sun whose rays
had indiscreetly lingered to kiss her
white shoulders as she braided ber
hair before the window. Ah, the
beautful tresses of Mariette! Many
youthful gallants dreamed of them.
Among these was Jean, a young man
of twenty, and one fine day Jean and
Mariette were married.
Jean was a clever, merry youth, who
looked upon life as if it were a good
farce. He was gifted by nature with
a talent for drawing.
the world.
as she shook her head her luxuriant
hair fell about her.
**Ah,” exclaimed the hair dresser, *‘a
beautiful head of hair.”
Then, suddenly restraining his en-
thusiasm as he scented business, he
added :—
“That is worth—well, a hundred
francs would pay you well for it. Do
you wish to sell it
**Not to-day,” replied Mariette, as
she put up her hair, ‘‘but one of these
days, perhaps. For some time it has
tired my head very much,”
“But we could arrange not to cut it
all at once. I would buy it by the
piece,
“That will be a good idea. Well, we
will see.”
And Marriette went homeward in a
thoughtful mood. Jean had just re-
turned for dinner,
“Jean,” sald Mariette, with a little
laugh, “do you know what the hair-
dresser below has just proposed to me?”
*“No.”
“‘He wishes to give me a hundred
franes for my hair.”
“What an absurd idea.”
“Oh, I don’t know.’ When our money
gives out that would be a resource
worth thinking of »
Jean suddenly worked himself into
an angry passion, saying that if ever
she did such a thing— Well, what
would he do? He did not know, but—
Well, anyway, culy a woman could
have thought of such an absurd idea.
Mariette made no reply.
night later as she was combing her
hair, Jean, who had forgotten someth-
ing, hastily entered the room.
“Goodby,”
wife.
Then he suddenly paused.
“Look here! This is strange. One
would say your hair was falling out.”
*Do you think so ?"” answered Mari-
ette, drawing her hair through he
hands. “Yes, it has seemed to me for
some time past that it has been falling
out somewhat,”
ried. Why?
other, of course. Jean, who treated
Mariette as a comrade, carried
heart in his hand. One evening, when
they had clasped hands for a longer
time than usual, Mariette found his
heart in her little palm.
headed Jean had forgotten it. To
punish him, Mariette kept it. That 1s
the whole story.
after searching his pockets, found three
francs.
“*They will not last us very long,”
he sald.
They hardly lasted until dinner,
which was somewhat abridged. Jean
and Mariette, however recovered them-
selves at supper—a supper of fond car-
esses and kisses.
Two days afterward Jean was sur-
prised by the receipt of five hundred
francs. An uncle who lived in the
province had sent it to him as a wed-
ding gift.
sverything in Paris.
irst to become serious,
“Give me the money,’ she said.
will take care of the cash box.
necessary for us to economize
think of the future,”
“i
It is
her the bank notes, and took no more
thought of the money.
only troubled him a little. When he
went into the street and saw himself
in the large glasses of the store win-
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“Then buy a hair restorative,”
“Bah | they are worthless,”
Eight days afterward, as he leaned
was rather
Jean said: —
“Decidedly, your hair is becoming
thin; you have not nearly so much as
formerly.”
“Yes, yes,” replied Mariette, sinking
back and burying her ceck in her pil-
low ; “it falls out continually. Well,
when I have none left you will no
longer love me !”’
“You deserve
lazy that morning,
But be patient, If I
will
bring back your hair, I promise you
that.”’
At mid-day Jean returned, entering
close the door behind him.
“There,” he cried, ‘the bargain is
concluded. It appears that 1 have
talent, talent enough.
for 300 francs a moath. Peru and
Golconda !| And to begin with, I have
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{
Wilda Frank, Scout,
Wild Frank, scout, 18 one of the best
known, honest, most reckless, dare-
devil rangers on tha Southwestern fron-
tier, Tower was born in Iowa, and
when he came to Texas 15 years ago
was a boy of seventeen, He found em-
ployment at a cow-ranche on the Pecos
river and the wild, rough life he led in
camp and on the trail hardened his mus-
cles, steadied his nerves and developed
all of those courageous qualities which
distinguish the frontiersman. He be-
came a superb horseman and wonder-
fully skilled in the use of the six-shoot-
er and Winchester. He has had many
hazardous adventures in the West and
South. One time he set out to carry
some despatches to an American officer,
About 50 miles from camp he met seven
Indians driving a bunch of stolen
horses. Intent on the management of
the stolen antmals the Indians failed to
he was discovered he opened fire upon
them and, before they had recovered
from their astonishment, three of their
number lay dead on the plain. Then
they returned the intrepid man’s
and the first volley killed his horse,
Nothing daunted he dropped behind the
body of the dead animal and a bullet
The Indians
set up an exultant shout and spurred
forward, Taking careful aim at the
enemies had been
The Indians retreated in
After a lengthy pow-
wow they mounted their ponies and
Frank rose to his feet,
to swell. A long journey lay
him and he had no horse,
painfully he turned his face toward the
First |
i
All |
dispatches through safely or die,
he scalped the four dead Indians,
that day, under a burning san, he crept |
across the arid plan. His throat parch- |
in hs |
brain. He became delirious and, raving |
the plain. The next morning a compa- |
wounded ranger and
When he was fully recov-
Ser- |
made the journey
but he
made no report of his adventure and!
Floyd. He
i
When the truth |
He was a mighty hunter and while with |
vance. Look atthat!
wealth 1”?
I am rolling in
Mariette, astonished, looked at him
“But,” said she suddenly, **why have
reduced his obesity somewhat,
work.
began to experience great uneasiness,
francs were nearly exhausted. Was it
possible ?
under it all ?
and reflected a long time,
evening, ‘it is eight days since you
have had work.”
“But why that serious air ?
no more money ?”’
“Yes, ves,” she answered, “only a
man ought not to be doing nothing.”
**You are right. I will look for work,
but it is not easy to find.”
very anxious. She could
“I have a dozen bottles of
I have rifl
plied Jean,
fled
“And for that ?”
“Yes, 1 paid only fifty frances; no
more,’
Mariette almost fell to the floor.
“Ah! you have done a fine thing!"
she exclaimed.
“How so 2"
“Why my hair is not falling out,
Here look at it.”
fresh meat. Once in the Guadaloupe |
Mountains, while hunting for bear, he |
came upon lwo half-grown cubs in a |
small canyon. He shot both, and was |
busily engaged skinning one of the dead |
ly appeared and leaped upon the unsus-
He had laid aside his |
rifle and six-shooter and was armed only
tnife. The attack of
the monster was 80 sudden that Frank
closed in mortal
The struggle lasted some time
Frank's clothes were torn into
He was badly scratched and
finally succeeded
in
il
i
and staggered to his feet a victor. He
a hearty laugh.
But Jean suddenly approached her,
aside,
“It is not possihle |”
he re-|
covered from his injlries.
When Frank left the Rangers he de-
numerous ad- |
in the Land of the Mon- |
He crossed the Rio Grande
ventures
tezumas:
x i
self for four or five days hunting and |
fishing. Game of all sorts was abund- |
see
Cut! You have cut your hair?"
“Well, it was necessary--to live, as
Jean for a moment remained silent
One after |
No |
one was in sight when he rode up to the |
massive gate of the corral, and it was
and called loudly several times that the |
to his bosom and kissed
vation was at hand,
his best to find work. She
imagine what would be the end of this
terrible misery. She began to practice
the most extreme economy.
At the end of a week Mariette had
become a most prudent as well asa
most clever manager.
One morning, as Jean was about to
depart, Marriette was seized with a fit
one hundred sous were left—only
enough to last two days—and then!
Decidedly everything looked black.
She made her toilet, however, but not
without sighing. Asshe was putting
up her hair before the glass she found
that she had no hairpins left,
“ Another expense |” she groaned.
When she went into the street she
entered the shop of a hairdresser at
the corner to buy a package of hairpins
for two sous, The hairdresser was
busy in a corner of his shop braiding a
lait of blonde hair which was fastened
y a nail to a wooden head,
“You have no need of that,” he said,
glancing toward Mariette’s hair,
‘No; fortunately not,” replied Mari.
ette, “for that must be dear.”
“Oh, 1t costs twenty-five francs,”
“Indeed |”
“Yes, for the labor of arranging it,
you know, brings a good price.”
“To be sure! But the hair alone,
that is worth something ?"’
“Indeed’ it is! This now is worth
fitteen francs,”
“Fifteen francs! How much would
mire be worth on my head 2”
“Let me see it.”
Marietta drew down her comb, and,
As she let him do this without saying
tears fall upon her hair.
“Ah, foolish fellow !'' she said, “be
reasonable. My hair will grow again —
do it more good than your dozen bot-
ties of restorative.”’
American and Indian Wheat,
Statistics have appeared showing the
imports of wheat into the United King-
dom from September 1, 1883, to March
31, 1884, and also showing how largely
the export from the Unitel States to
England is falling off. During the
period above named, the total export of
grain from the States to Great Britain
was 12,780,496 bushels, whereas in the
corresponding period of 1882.3 it was
21,607,110 bushels. India, Russia, and
Australasia very largely made up the
deficiency. The fact now remains that
there is an increased surplus in America
over 1883, while the crop prospects in
Europe are good. Although, as claim-
ed by the Bombay Chamber of Com-
merce, India is capable of supplying
not only the wants of the United King-
dom. but of producing an unlimited
supply, American wheat can be placed
with a profit at a lower rate than Indi-
an wheat can be sold in Mark lane as a
rule. The Indian railway system ex-
tends over 10,000 miles of track, and
has scarcely penetrated the central pro-
vinces, which are best adapted for
wheat, Allowing a production for
British India of 100,000,000 of bushels
to which require to be added 50,000,
of bushels from the protected States, not
a fourth can be expected, as the wheat
cannot be got out of the localities,
The proud are the most provoked by
pride,
kled old Mexican woman appeared on |
the threshold, Frank demanded shel- |
English like an American, pushed her
Frank’s answers were evidently
satisfactory, for the ranchero bade him
enter and a peon hoppled his horse and
turned the animal loose to graze.
Frank's host provided him with a
change of clothing-his own was wet
aud after supper conducted him to a
room. When the door opened a young
and beautiful girl rose and faced the
two men inquiringly. The ranchero ad-
addressed her,
“This stranger will camp with us
Eleanor,” he said. ‘‘He will occupy
this room. You can sleep with Dolo-
res,”
“The girl bowed and, gathering up
some fancy needlework upon which she
had been engaged left the room.
“She's my daughter,’ said the stern-
visaged ranehero when they were alone,
When he finally retired from the
room Frank closed the door. It had
no lock, and placing his six-shooter
under his pillow he threw himself upon
the bed without undressing. The ano-
maly of a beautiful and accomplished
girl being the voluntary resident of a
miserable ranche house and acknowl-
edged as a daughter by so villainous-
appearing a man as his host excited
Frank's suspicions and he examined the
room carefully to discover some clue to
the identity of the fair stranger. The
room was comfortably, almost luxar-
fously furnished, and the books which
filled the shelves of a hanging closet
and were scattered about the room, the
plotures on the walls and the general
air of refinement convinced him that
the girl was far above the av rans
chero’s daughter in education. He look-
ed through the books and searched
every bit of paper in the room, but
without finding a clue to the
of her and her strange surroundings
Frank fell asleep, to be aroused by
someone gently shaking him. He start.
ed up and discovered by the dim light
-of a taper which she bore that his visi.
tor was the beautiful Eleanor, He at-
tempted to speak, but she zigned for
him to be silent and whispered the
words:
“Follow me,’
Buckling on his six-shooter belt
Frank followed her from the room and
she led the way through several narrow
entries to the yard, His horse stood
ready saddled and bridled just outside
the corral gate, The girl pointed to
the caparisoned animal.
**You are an American,” she said,
“Your life will not be safe here,”
She pointed again to the horse and
| retreated into the house, Aftera mo-
{ ment's hesitation Frankimounted his
| animal and rode away. Day was just
| dawning.
the ranche people he had just quitted,
but could learn nothing concerning
them. A few months thereafter while
at Saltillo he strolled by the walls of a
rich convent one evening.
gate swung open and two Sisters of the
order came out. They started atsight
exclamation of surprise.
nuns was the beautiful
had so mysteriously assisted
leave the old ranche house,
“Eleanor!” he said and
ward her. The nun shook her head
and laid her finger on her lips as a sign
of sllenice,
One
him
more.
by the celebrated female bandit El Chi.
in the
mountains toward the Rio Grande and
daring women had entered the convent
at the first favorable moment admitted
—
A Famous Soorteh Duel.
Even wien sport fails the Highlands
have always somes resource by wkich to
amuse the stranger. The other day I
came across an oid gamekeeper who
was able to throw light on the subject
of the famous duel, in 1822, between
Mr. Stewart, of Dunerran and Bir Al-
exander Boswell, of Achinleck. It may
be remembered that a few weeks ago
there appeared in many Scottish jour-
nals—and in not a few English ones—a
note announcing that a history of the
Boswsll family was being written by an
Ayrshire man of letters, and that the
history of the duel was to be cleared
away. If the Ayrshire journalist’s story
rung on the same lines as do previous
narratives of the same event, it will
differ entirely from the tale of the
Highland gamekeeper. If any one
should know the true version that Ga.
lic chronicler should, for he was in the
learned the details from the mouth of
an eye witness,
It is generally under-
cal quarrel and a political squib,
It arose out
famed, and it culminated in Sir A.
Boswell, through the columns of the
Sentinel, dubbing his opponent *“The
never do, and Mr, Stewart was stirred
The duel was fought
g
Fifeshire.
in favor of the Baronet, for he was a
the other hand Stewart had a
He never lifted his
shoulder and “could not
bucket at five yards distance,”
gun
escaped safely with their booty.
described the false nun *‘and.”
ded Frank, as he told me the story,
ption ex-
Eleanor, She was
rurales about three
months thereafter and I was on the
plaza when she was shot, Bhe died
without making a confession and no
one knew who she was nor where
was from. Her career had been wilder
than the most exaggerated romance,
She was reported to be wholly devoid of
mercy, but she did me a good turn and
—well, she was an American, and I felt
They
actly tallied with
the
Rechele:t's Sunacare.
Henri Rochefort relates the follow-
ing good story on himself: “When I
was a clerk at the Prefecture of the
Seine in the Cemetery Dureau I was
about the worst employe in the office.
In fact, I never went there at all (one
fellow,
ation of my keeping him
tickets) except to renew my stock of
stationery to be used for my comedies
and articles in the Charivari., It so
happened that I had just then a piece
in rehearsal at the Vaudeville, in which
Francine Cellie, for whose
Baron Haussman, Prefect of the Seine,
had an especial weakness, was cast for
a leading role.
my time at the Vaudville superintend-
in
naturally the head of the Cemetery
Department at last got
One day, when I came to draw my sal-
he said: “I
appointment,’ and as
entered the office at that
moment, he was as good as his word.
“Monsieur le Prefect,’ said he, *I have
your
ment whom I never see here and who
spends all his time writing for the thea-
** “What is his name?"
* ‘Henri Rochefort.”
“Stop a bit; it seems to me I have
The young
man has a piece in rehearsal at the
Vaudeville,” and he picked up a news-
paper in which the cast was mentioned,
was in it,
“Well, Monsieur le Prefect?’ asked
that the actress should keep her role,
‘you are asking me to do something
which is very difficult—indeed, it seems
to me to be impossible.’
“‘Howso?’
““‘How can [ put a man out of the
office who is rever here?’ and before
the astonished chief could find an axn-
swer Haussman had left the room, The
next day I was transferred to the Fine
Art Department, with the title of In-
spector, As there was nothing to in-
spect, I soon afterwards sent in my
resignation.”
ma MI MI
Wheat Gambling.
Gambling in wheat at Chicago is de-
scribed thus: A loafer comes in with
his hair cut short, and then puts his
head in the window where four or five
clerks are sitting in a Kind ot show-
case, and he says: ‘‘Ten thousand
bushels of wheat,” He deposits $100
for all that. The man who gets the
money shouts it to the next man, who
records it in a magnificent day-book,
and then the man with the ledger some
distance below takes it down, and so it
goes down with all the seriousness of
an actual transaction, whereas not a
bushel of wheat was purchased, That
$100 18 till wheat shall go off 1
cent, and the moment it does they sell
the man's wheat, whigh never was
bought, the entire transaction being
like Ferdinand Ward's, mere moon.
shine, but if the wheat should slip up 1
cent, the young man comes back and
says: “I will my wheat,’’ and they
meekly give him about $88, taking one-
eighth of 1 per cent off, Tow prepos.
terous it 1s to shut up gambling houses
when this sort of thi iv going on in
almost every large h in country
now.
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directions and then turn to fire. Itis
he was in honor
eight or nine and then turning fired off
his pistol with both hands,
Then Stewart
tertool, or, as the gamekeeper put it,
Nn
ng hir
im,
tened off to the postchaise awaiting bh
He fled immediately to Belg
rest of his days peacefully in Fifeshire,
This story, it will be observed, is alto-
rative, In spite of its extraordinary
character it bears In its details indubi-
table traces of truth.
halo of mystery that has so long sur-
rounded the fate of one of the most
popular and gifted of Scottish lairds
and lyrists,
rs NS.
An Omission.
A few days ago two men, who were
It was perhaps big enough
as they
f the land-
Oi }
lord at whose inn they proposed to
wht one of the men expla
eh ined:
awful careful of that pig.
“Be
land,
y him.»
The landlord locked the pig
then began to think and cogitate and
When the strangers had gone
1p,
“I've twigged the racket; them
fellows are sharpers, and that's a guess.
ing pig. To-morrow they will give you
~only you won't!
we will weigh their pig and beat their
game,
Nobody slept until the pig was taken
over to the scales and weighed, He
the villagers went home and hunted up
scales and sharpers through the
mainder of the night.
Next morning the pig was led around
like to guess on its weight® I'll take
all gussses at 10 cents each, and who-
ever hits it gets 50 cents.
This provoked a large and selected
stock of winks and smiles, but no one
walked up until the man said that any
person could gueas as many times as he
cared to, provided a dime accompanied
each guess, Then a rush set in. Three
or four merchants put up fifty guesses
each. A justice of the peace took 30,
A lawyer said about 20 would do for
him. Before there was any let up in the
guessing about six hundred had been
registered and paid for. Every soul of
‘en guessed at 170 pounds,” It was cu-
rious what unanimity there was in the
guessing, but the pig men didn’t seem
to notice it. When all had been given
a chance the pig was led to the scales,
and lo! his weight was exactly 174
pounds |
“You see, gentlemen,’ explained the
spokesman, “while this animal only
weighs 170 pounds along about eleven
o'clock at night, we feed him about five
unds of oatmeal before weighing.
ou forgot to take this matter into con-
sideration 1”
Then somebody kicked the landlord,
and he kicked the justice and the jus-
tice kicked a merchant, and when the
pig men looked back from a distant hill
the whole town was out Kicking itself
and throwing empty wallets into the
river,
i AIAN
Patience is bitter but its fruit is
sweet,
The hippophile is earnestly at work,
Horseshoes of sheep's horn are now
made in France, They are for
une, particularly, on street pavements,
t slipping smooth
atone Bad a -
Chinese Burial Grounds,
As you walk around Shanghai you
think that about half the land is waste,
You fancy it is left, as large coverts
and heather-clad heaths are left where
game-preserving flourishes; but if you
look closer, you see tuft-covered
mounds, Itisa burial ground. No-
where else in that neighborhood will
you see a square yard of land that is
not under tillage. Half our little wars
with the Chinese came from trespassing
on these cemeteries, The French at
Shanghai had what threatened to be a
big row when they wanted to drive a
road through one of them. They are
taboo.” Bometimes of an evening you
may see a village elder walking round
and explaining to the youngsters that
their ancestor of 4 hundred years ago
is buried here, and that ve mounds off
lies that happy father who was raised
to the rank of marquis because his son
came out first classic and senior wrang-
ler in the final examination, 1 am
speaking of an old burial ground. In
a new one you see the solid, highly-
varnished coffins (often carved) lying on
There they are left for a
or two, after which they are
thatched or bricked over, according to
the wealth of the family, the result
being a mausoleum like those set up to
several of our royal family. This soon
weeds,
ends by becoming a mound, still
of the el-
and
hallowed in the recollection
the appointed offerings. The thing to
remember is that in China all is above
ground; there is no digging of graves
In old times they used to bury beside
and precious stones of
all kinds. They are more economical
nowadays; one remembers how they
which have
present
grown too costly. In their
ly to take to cremation or to let their
grave-fields be desecrated by plough or
spade; therefore they are bound to go re
want to make life pleasanter, let them
get an imperial edict for deodori-
Our residents cannot complain
unhealthiness of the
The Chinese on
the whole, a healthy people.
ring
are
ale,
r— A A Sr,
Keep Him Warm.
He had six fly screens under his arm,
and was talking to a man in front of @
house on Hastings street.
“1 am offering these at fifly per cent,
he explained,
town.”
“Yhell, it vhas soon coming winter,
““That’s true enough, my friend, bu!
is not the only thing.
“YVhell?”
“They give an air of refinement toa
“Yhell?”
“I don’t say that they keep out chol-
poinl fo a
house in Detroit provided with them
I has had a case of cholera.”
“Yhell, dot vhas so.”
**In buying them you help a poor
bedside of his dying
vin
wife in Buffalo.”
“Yes
“You add at least §200 to
of your place.”
*Yes."”
“They are nota In
the value
irgl but
g Yaa
Ar-Aiarm,
“Dot vhas good.”
“The air which enters your house is
strained, as it were, and must therefore
be free of chips, gravel, sand, dust and
other substances deleterious to health.”
“y oR
“And you will take em?’
““My frendt, vhas jdose fiy-screens
’
der alley dose dey raise a big row und
let me know?"
“Why, no; of course not.”
“if 1 vhasin a row mit my vhife,
’
“Of course not.’
“If I come home in der night und
get in, does dose fly-screens make it all
right?”
“No, sir--no, sir. How can you ex-
“Vhell, I doan’ know. 1 guess you
petter moof along to der next corner.
Eaferypody says 1 vhas sweet-tempered
und kind, but if a man come along und
impose on me und take me for some
greenhorns, 1 let myself oudt and knock
him so far into next Shanuary dot fly.
screens doan’ keep him warm.”
iA MII
Concerning Deidesmaids,
Instead of being so many graceful
ornaments at the marriage ceremony,
as nowadays, the bridesmaids in olden
times had various duties assigned to
them. Thus one of their principal tasks
was dressing the bride on her wedding
morning, when any omission in her
toilet was laid to their charge. At a
wedding, too, where it was arranged
that the bnide should be followed by a
numerous train of her lady friends, it
was the first bridesmaid’s duty to play
the part of a drilismistress, “‘sizing”
them, so that “no pair in the procession
were followed by a taller couple.” She
was also ex to see that each
bridesmaid was not only provided with
a sprig of rosemary.or a posey pinned
to the breastfoids of her but had
a symbolics! chaplet in her hand, In
many parts of Germany it is still custo
mary for the bridesmaids to bring
myrtle wreath, which they lave su
scribed together to purchase
Hupeinl eve, to the house of the
and 1 remove it from her head
close of the wedding .
Las been done, the bride is blindfol
and the myrtle wreath being put
her hand, she tries to place it on the
head of owe of her bridesmaids as they
dance aroand her; for, in a sondacee
with an old belief, whoever sae crowns
martied in a your from