VADING DAYS, Filled with a quiet sadnesa nigh to tears, When tears come fresh from no ungentle spring, Beside this stream, whose tongue rap- faltering, I watch this graceful fading of the year's A breezeshakes 11 the host of grassy spears, Rustling their faded pennants where they eng ; A brown ring, Pale on each bough a dying grace appears, rust widens round the fairies’ The alr is tremulous with hovering fears, Each moment some loved charm is taking wing. For every pearl string Dies in my breast some song her love en- dears, : O Autumn! baste ; blow fresh through heart and brain The riper notes of thy reviving strain! LR I NE THE THIRD BOWL. r— that falls from summer's close up. Put You will find Light another Itisa shudder “Draw your cuawr your feet on those skins. them soft and warm. pipe, and fill your glass, Philip. bitter night. My old bones when 1 hear the wind wail over the house and through the oak-tree. Capi- tal punch, that Johan has a knack at the article that I have rarely seen equaled —never surpassed. He is a prince of servants, is John, if he 18 black. I have had him with me now--let me see. It thirty-two years next Christmas week, and he has never quarreled with me. A rave history for master and man, thin weal yess, and here he comes, hn, another bowl of bunch, if you pleas. What pot another! Certainly, man, [ must bave it. This 18 only the half, of course. Not drank any! You don’t mean to say that he has been drinking nothing but that vile claret all the blessed evening? Phulip you dog, I ter than that. have your own way. “One more bowl, John—but one. shall be the last; and, John, get the old Maraschino, one of the thick black bot tles with the small necks, and open it gently, But you know how, old fellow, and just do your best tc make us com- fortable. “How the wind howls! Philip, my boy, I am seventy-three years old, and seven days over. My birth-day was a week ago to-day. An old bachelor! Yea, verily. of the oldest kind. Bat what Is age? What is: the paltry sum of seventy years? Do you think I am any older in my soul than I was half a century age? Do you think, because my heart beats slower, that my mind thinks more slow- ly, my feelings are less buoyant, less cheerful, if they look forward only One that seventy years are a day in the tal soul. I know I am what men call old, I know my cheeks are wrinkled silver. But in my soul I feel that I am young, and 1 shall be young till the earthly ceases and the unearthly and eternal begins, “1 have not grown one day older than 1 was at thirty-two. I have never ad- vanced a day since then, long since that has been one day— one short day; no night, ho rest, no success. marked my advance. “Phihp, I have been living forty years by the light of one wemory—by the side of one grave, “John, bowl d on hearth. You may go. You need not sit up for me. Philip and I will see each other to our rooms to-night, John, Go, old fellow, and sleep soundly, “Phil, she was the purest angel that flesh ever imprisoned, the most beauti- ful child of Eve. 1 can see her now. Her eyes raying the light of heaven her brow white, calm, and holy lips wreathed with the blessing of her smile, Bhe waz as graceful as a form ant tha \ OT 3 oY Wl Wil the move through crowded assemblies, with human aid. adorn the splendid house in which she was born and grew to womanhood. It was a grand old place, built mm the fnidst of a growth of oaks that might have been there when Columbus dis- coverad America, and seemed likely to stand a century longer. They are standing yet, and the wind to-night makes a wild lament through their branches that sounds mournfully above her grave, “1 must pause to recall the scenery of the old familiar spot. There was a stream of water dashed down the rocks # haondred yards from the house, and which kept always full and fresh, an and maples, and other trees, while on the surface the white blossoms of the lotus nodded lazily on the ripples with Bqypiian sleepiness and Kr. pst old honse was built of dark- #tone, and had a massive appearance, not relieved by the sombre shade in which it stood. The sunshine seldom to the ground in the summer months, except one spot, just in front of the library windows. where it used to lie and sleep in the grass, as if it loved the old place. And it sunshine. loved it, why should not IL “General ant, old-fashioned wen, now quite gone out of memory, a8 weil as out of exist. ence. He loved his hv his his place, wnd his punen, He loved hi peplew Tom, wild, uncouth, rongh cuh as he Wa} at abi on, io house, or togel oved his ter Sarah, and I loved ber ton, look at me us ; asain pian image of that young girl stands before me splendidly beautiful in all the holi- { ness of her young glad life, and I could | bow down on my knees ant worship her | now again. { “Why did 1 say again? For forty { years I have nob ceased to worship her. { If I kneelto pray in the morning, she | passes between me and God, If I would {read the prayers at evening twilight { she looks up at me from the page. 1f 1 | worship on a Sabbith morning in the i chureh, she looks down on me from some { unfathomable « «ance, some unap- | proachable heigl. and I pray to her as { if she were ty Lope, my heaven, my all, | “Sometimes in the winter nights I feel a coldness stealing over me, and icy | fingers are feeling about my heart, as if {to grasp and still it. I he calmly, | quietly, and I think my hour is at hand; {and thasugh the gloom, and through the mists and films that gather over my | vision, I sve her afar off still the same God to let me go find her, and on her to | to come to me, and then darkness sel- tles on me. says I shall some day die in a fit of it. What do doctors know of the tremen- dous influences that are working our sculs? He, in his scientific stupidi- ty, calls it a and warns me against wine and high hving: as if I did not understand what it is, and why my ($1 ALN U153050, | into the deep unknown. ‘I have spoken of Tom Lewis, her cousin. Rumor said he was the old | man's heir in equal proportion with the daughter; for he had been brought up in the family, and bad always been { treated as a son. He was a good fellow ness that all who came within her influ- ence must have, “1 have seen her look the devil out of him often. I remember once when | the horses had behaved in a way not to suit him, and he had let an oath or two | escape his lips preparatory to putting i on the whip. We were riding together down the avenue, and he raised the t lash, At the moment he caught her (eye. She was walking up from the lodge, where she had been to see a sick { child, She saw the raised cane and her i eye caught his, horses escaped for that time, them quietly through the gate, for three miles and back without a word of anger, “Did I tell you I was her covsin also? on her mother's side, eral’s, We lived not far off, and I lived much of my time at his house, Tom and myself had been inseparable, and we did not éach other, “Tom,” said I, can’t eral’s fortune, other half?” ‘*‘Bah! Jerry, COLCeRI one morning, ‘why vou be oo me have 3 i and let said he, ‘as if want Sarah with it, in Heaven's name, take half of the money, if that’s all you want.’ HeCan’t we fix 1t 80 even division, Tom ? as to make an it square.’ to you. get out of the way. You must see that | she doesn’t care a copper for you.’ “I twirled a rosebud in my fingers that she had given me that morning, and replied: “Poor devill 1 could be there is no chance for you under Bul go ahead; find 1 out as you will, I’m sorry for yon.’ “A hundred such pleasant talks we used nave, and she never gave either of us one particle more of encou- ragement than the other, She sister us both, aud neither break the spell of our perfect happiness by asking her to be more. “And so time passed on. did not think you By sun. $ VO Lo together on horseback. over the mountain and down the valley. were returning toward | sauntering along side of the hail. “Philip, stir the fire a little, all three of us, to me, and I am a little chilly myself, day that chills me, “I had made up my mind if opportu. nity occurred, to tell her that day all that I had thought for years. I had determined to know, once for ail, if she would love me or no. “If not, 1 would I cared not where the world was broad enough, and it should be to some place I should never see her face again, never hear her volee again, never bow down and wor: ship her magnificent beauty again. I would go to Russia and offer myself to the Czar, or to Syria and fight with Napoleon, or to Eeypt and serve with the men of Murad Bey. All my notions were military, I remember, and all my ideas were of war and death on the | fleld. *I1 rode by her side, and looked up al her occasionally, and thought she was looking spiend idly, I had pever seen her more so, Every attitude was grace, every look was life and sping. “Tom clung close to her. One would have thought he was watching the very opportunity I was after mysell. Now he rode a few paces forward, and as | was catching my breath to say ‘Sarah,’ he would rein up and fall back to his | place, and I would make some flat re. | mark that made we seen like & fool to | myself, not to her, “What's the matter with you, Jer- ry?’ said she al length, “Jerry's in love,’ sald Tom. “I contd have thrgshed him on the | spot. Lo Y'In lowe! Jerry in love!’ and she i turned her large brown eyes toward me, “Iu vain I soncht to fat we them, und arrive at some conclusion whether or no the sabject interested her with special fore, “The eyes remain fixed, till 1 blun- dered out the oid saw, ‘Tom judges others by himself.' “Then the eyes turned to Tom, and he pend: d gality by his awl wird and hult blushes, and averted eyes, forest Laugh. CB Heven thonght 1, what wonld | » 20 Amn “Jerry is Tom in love?’ “The naivete of the question, the repress a swile that grew into a broad laugh, woods ring with our merriment. lying back yonder in the road?’ **Coufound it, yes; the cord has broken from my wrist;’ and he rode back for it. “Jerry, whom does Tom love?’ said she, quickly, turning to me. “““You,” said I, bluntly. *' ‘Why, of course; but who is he in love with, I mean?’ { “It was a curious way to get at it. | Could I be justified? It was not asking { what I had intended, but it was getting j ib it in another way, and just as well, perhaps. It was, at all events, asking Tom 5 question for him, and it saved I my own, determined this In 1astant. “Sarah, could you love Tom wall | enough to marry him?’ “+11 Jerry; what do you mean? fA wife, will you marry him?’ “if don’t know—1 can’t tell—I nev- er thought of such a thing. | think he has any such idea, do you?’ “That was my answer. It was belter off than before, Tom, or she would never have answered thus, But di’ she love me? she marry me? Wouldn't she receive the idea in just the same way? “I looked back. Tom was on mount agamn. [I gulped down my heart ***Sarah, will you marry me?’ “Philip, she turned her eyes again toward those holy eyes—and blessed me with their unutterably glorious gaze. my dying hour I shall not forget that gaze; to all eternity it will remain in is my soul. She looked at me one look; filled them and overflowed toward me from ont | eyes | ever saw—the last, the last, ‘Is there anything left in that bowl Thankyou. Justa glassful. You wi not take any? Then, by your leave, will Onish it. My story 18 nearly en ted, and 1 will not keep you much lon ér 1 i ¥ # “We had noticed, so “As she looked at me, fixed her eyes on mine, a flash, blinding { by the roadside not fifty yards from us, { and the crash of the thunder shook the | foundation of the hills, “For a moment all was dazzling, burning, blazing light; then sight was on our eves, The horses crouched to | her head as if in the presence of ‘*All this was the work of an instant, {and the next Tom's horse sprang by us ion a furious gallop, dragging Tom by the stirrup, He had been { mounting when the flash came, and his horse swerved and jumped so that his foot caught, and he | his head on the ground. “There was a point on tha Wat road, ded in two. The one was a carriage. track, which Ly easy descents; the other was a fool. to a point on the carriage-road nearly a { quarter of a mile below. “Calling to Sarah to keep back and {and went down the steep path. jing back, I saw her [ollowing, i horse making tremendous speed, She { Tom, and 1 pressed on, thinking to in- | tercept hus horse below, “My paces was terrible. I could heat | them thundering down the track above, deep. “A great horse was that black horse moment later I was at the point where the two roads met, but only in time to sen the other two horses go by at a fo- rious pace, Sarah's abreast of the gray, pand she reaching her hand bravely Lry- ing to grasp the flying rein, as her horse went leap for lew with him than useless in such a casa, but serve to increase their speed; so | fell back a dozen rods and followed, watching the end, **At the foot of the mountain the river ran broad and deep, spanned by the bridge al the narrowest point, To reach the bridge, the road Look a short turn op stream, directly on the bank, “On swept the gray and the black horse, side by side, down by the hillside, not fifty leaps along the lsvel ground, and then came the turn. “She was on the off-side. At the turn she pressed ahead a half length and reined her horse across the gray's shoulder, if possible, to turn him up toward the bridge. “It was all over .n an instant. The gray was the heavier horse, He press. ed her close; the black horse yielded, ave way toward the fence, a hight rail, iroke with 4 crash, and they went over, all tuto the deep black stream. " . still the sonod of thab crash together into the black water! ‘1 never kiow exactly wimt I did then. When 1 was conscious I found myself swimming around in wu circle, diving oceastonsdly to find them but in vain, The gray JHOSSWALL Astioto At stood on the bank hy my + With de and trembling limbs shaking frou. gend The other black wen “1 found her at last, “Yas, she was dead! | “Restore her? No. i face shows! how vain | was, Nev De Was uit of the im F glory of he likeness i and face, “Philip, | sad 1 had neve i day older since that. You why. I have never ceased t her as on that day. I have u the blessing of those eyesas looked on me in the forest on the mountain road. 1 have never left her, ne ver gone away from her, If, in the resu rection, we are to resume the bodies wost exact. ly fitted to represent our whole live; if, as 1 sometimes thought, we shall rise in the forms we wore when some great event stamped our souls forever, then | am certain that I shall awake in form and feature as 1 record will remain of life after her burial, “We buried her in the old vault close {by the house, among the solid ouks, Beautiful, angel-like, to the very last. “My voice is broken. 1 can not say { more, Pullip. You have the story. That is the whole of it, (rod bless you, | Phil, my boy. You have tientiy—to my tall “*Grood-night, boy. in the wh ie RX RCLIV giuch hope yas human fe 5) angelic, viy one of Lhe saintly one srtalg—and th beauby and new life had oft some faint itself hed form § Ol on SAT grown a OW now ver Jost an hour of my listened —pi- I'll old ehdir awhil I fea] like <leep: {ro to bed. gt cle yet.” I left him sitting there: head bow- ed on his breast: his closed, his breathing short and heavy, as if with Ay ay here it €#yes | suppressed grief. misty, In the hall I found John, sitting upright in a large chair, “Why, John, I thought the | sent you to bed long ago?” Own eves Major ito bed at the third bowl, Sir, and I { always doesn’t go. He's been telling you the old story, now hasn't he, Mr, | Philip?” ““W hat old story, John?" “Why, all about Miss Lewis, Mister Tom, and the General?’’ “Yeas. John laid his long black fluger know- ingly up by the side of his nose, and i looked at me. “Why, John—you don’t mean to say gly ¥7? “All the punch, Sir." “What! Sarah and the and", “All punch, Sir.” “John, my man, g - him, black horse, 0 in and take care {of a man was hardly to be believed after the second bowl, and perfectly incredi- ¢ on the third. By Jove! heis a trump at a story, tho ; It would bed I dreamed abo ‘ 3 ugh. ifficult to describe all that Sahat i The Colors of! Horses, Arabs of Sahara are very par ular as to the color of their horses, | White is the color for Princes, but does | not stand heat. he black brings for | tune, but fears rocky ground. The chestnut is the most active. 1f one tells you he has seen a horse fly in the air, ask of what color it was; if he replies “Chestnut,” believe him. In a com- | bat against a chestnut, you mast have ia chestnut. The bay is the hardiest and the most sober, If one tells you a worse has leapad Lo the-bottom of a pre- gipice without hurting himself, ask of what color he was, } replies, ‘Bay.’ believe him. Ben Dyab, a renowned chief lesert, happening one day to be by Saad-el-Zeunaty, turned to and asked: . “What horses are in the front of the { enemy?" “White horses.” replied the son. “It is well; let us make for the sunny i side, and they will melt away like but ter” Some time after Ben Dyad again turned to his son and said: “What horses are in the front of the | enemy?” ‘Black horses.” cried his son. **It is well; Jet us make for the stony | The | tic of the pursued his son | fear; they are the negroes of the Soudan, { who cannot walk with bear feet upon | the flinta.” He changed his course, and the black {horses were speedily distanced, third time Ben Dyab askad, “And now | what horses are in the front of the enemy?" “Dark chestnuts and dark bays.” “In that case,” said Ben Dyab, *‘strike out, my children, strike out, and give your horses the heel, for these might per chance overtake us, had we not given barley to ours all the summer through.” Burdeste on Proianity. Yea, we think you ought class **gosh- dom’ and ‘dad-bing” as profane swear. ing. ‘Gaulding’ may also be consider. od a swear word, ‘Dumsswizzled®’ is another, All these words bear the same relation to thoroughbred, sky blde profanity that the pale pink lemonade of the Sunday school picnic does to the raw whiskey of the target company’s excursion. They are the outgrowth of a terrible struggle of a theological com- promise arranged by our Puritan ances. tors, who recognized with a faultless spiritual vision and worldly acumen the necessity of a pure life and sinless vo- cabulary, and at the same time the utter impossibility of plowing a New England stone patch without a class of words designed to relieve the over burdened mind and astonished feelings, every time the plow handles broke a man's ribs and extorted every last drop of vital breath from his panting body. ina oi A now suti-fonling composition for the waumerged portions of iron or ateel wnsgoity vowels has recently been in. vented Venice tarpentine, P Oris. 1 oil, tallow ana colocthar ave boiled with anotier mixture of barinm sal and onlotam carbonate grouud with lin. sod oil apd common turpentine, alates ove severed with 3he thon, w must be applied receive first » wafoient number of coats of or whiteload puat, The iv may be owriel oat with the ] ingredients fo v rious proportions, : sie Held the i — There were brave early French colonists of Canada. striking child defending g fort { | against as multi { Eggleston's Feces story is told as 1011 Fort. instance is r seven days SAVAZ In Edward historic series the lows: “One October morning in 14 the inhabitants of Verclieres, a cttlement twenty miles Montreal, were In the fleld at work. There wepe but twe soldiers withing the fori. The commander and | i= wife were ab ent. Their daughter Vi the landing with a hired man, when she heard firing. “Run. mademaoiseiie ryn!! cried the man. ‘Here come the Iroguois!”’ “Looking round, the girl saw the In- | dians ear at hand. Bhe ran for the | fort, and the Indians, seeing they conid i The bullets made the vias afterwards ang A 3 whistied round her, mn very long,’ @ Sauls AR; cried ont, fon that she wonld get two they had hidden in “When Madelsin fort, she vy fos hint nstan or, and found that | palisades had fallen down, | ! : 3 while th a “113 leaving holes thhough which the enemy | werd the fort, she to arms!’ hoping itance,. Dut the frightened that 1 block house, the wale ent Be gs! OO a8 8hie 3 outs hF soldiers were reached Bl WO Woinen 1 who wers in of thie HYIOE Il 1 hewn 4 and shat the | £0 sels pate, She exnuine the defences of the | some of the y enter. “She got what help them up. Then the! reid ocd the bl roles if repaired to the block ! found the brave garnsop of two, one ghe could and t commander where she in Lil hand. | ““ ‘What are you going to de with | that match?’ said Madeienp, “sTaght the powder and blow us all up,’ answered the scldier, | | “You are a misergble coward!’ said | the girl, ‘Go out of this place!’ rson who shows The soldier then time of panic, the one pr resolution and i did as Madeleine bade | flung aside her bonn took a gun. Her whole *force’ sisted of the sbove mentioned soldiers, her two bro- thers, aged ten and twelve and an old man of eighty—and women 3 children, who did not tet up a continual s Hing, as { ring cot brave Madeleins | who seem to bave share of her owr fighting for our gion. Remember you that g their blood | he king.’ “i Madelemn and the soldi { they fired at | dodging abou | did not know I Was, and ther } ale {the fort; and un are of them fell 0 { fore the welld wots of t | diers, “The falter a ling of the w was determin ceive no sign | flew from bas every defender was { caused a can time, partly ges, and partly nope might cons Higen tion, and bring them help. “Thus the fight wen! day, COOL ISS She cal % De “ us eng mander ii SLOpping es : and children, f the enemy shonld Ar or weakness; a bastion fo sex doing his duty; y be fired from atimidate the that the f +) @ Of the s iG yey ul and night and after nig! vigliant exer- it It was ford Lion S CODSLALIVY § § WAT ¥ iy 31 r iy hay girl keeping up he roe 4 3 ight a seek Madeleine y favoring circum weather, which s from setting fire Ab the endl that time reinforcements came down | the river and ‘raised the s age.’ ssi A — "Or a it. will | ces but the sl the | the it Yer is a | her wooden CHES Puck's Indian Home, i Its po. always the costliest {that is the happiesi. Indian wigwam, luxuries of the bank-president’s home, All the carpet is an odd rope or two; the luxuripus arm-chair is the ground, and there is no bric-a-brac except a scalp or two. Yet the Indian is happy. There is not a shadow to dim the pure old-gold ssnshine of his wild life. Ie sees the smoke curl softly upward from under the kettle that contains his meal, and float away through the rustling needles of the pune, ! This picture makes his happiness com- plete, as he lies on the ground calmly smoking sad watching his wife do all the work. It1s no wonder the Indian likes home, because that is the place where he never has anything to do but sit around and sleep. When he comes in from the hunt be 18 never sent off to the village to have some cretonne matched, or told to sit and hold three or four hanks of yarn that are to be wound; he doesn’t have to take care of the pappouse while his squaw gees out shopping; he doesn’t have to stand barrel andl build up the obsti pipe ¢ n by section, with pouring own in his eyes. asked at on, and 8 consequently not blown for not ving noticed, Think/what a happy home the Indian lias, when you crine to consider that his wile do dresses, or twen- ty dolla ari, Ss, Ts Res. 3 squaw perfectly happy ia blouse and a of trousers, The noble Wir ining Now, take the Jum rden Depnett’s Ya, —————— Bome adetsintances of mine—a doze says a writer-—took a trip the river awhile ago on a little steam yacht, Caeing down, they dweovered the Namdsna lying in the harbor, breathing fghtly. “Helin? exclaimed one, Bennet 's shit: he's in EBarope: 500 if we oan't get abourd!” Ko they stzamed alongaide, saluted an officer ony Jue deck and asked if they could be allowed to inspect the vemsel, After a little parieying they were allow- ed on board, Bnd the officer, apparently the head geward, showed them around, They were in a picnic moed and they laughingly eriticised everything they saw. “PB? George! | doesn't show such bad @ste!” exclaimed the leader, as they went Lh Lis private cabin, “Wouldd object to dwelling right here myself ** said a little gypsy with her hat tipped dew to ber nose and ker nose tipped vise versa, Here's where he gels himeel! up! Bee! Here's the poms mn he wtache to make pits on hs mo ait! And here's some powder— up “here's let's ie Toga ¥ cq tig eof a pairof inkl” shouted wey all pulled | lsoked sober, tae girs ari, said ir nlo the wha sid the steward s walls so for?” ‘they're up- a. when Bennett ned a youth in greeted the QuCupies remark with : “Oh, girls!” Cried | “Hark! Here's a smoke, 1 8" pos her, glesfully, ; B%i take a had his mouth and she put the stem to her lips and coughed violently She wiped iL off demurely aid he'll track me.” loses,” cried anoth- three, four, and yw of ‘em; why, Jel-oal they are snd they langhed and ran. the captain of the a% “Oh! Here's his « more slippers, a whole r ie must ull-grown,”’ “Steward, Namo 3 wR be 104 ba n,” said Che stew - ng maser and I'iere 18 nO capla have | COIN IMAnGer, the commander?’ What sume, $4 nett--hut don’t Baby Ins rances, on see, if 1 don’t proveshe is dead wop't get the insurance, K&S anoces- av for me fo get the certifieate of the doctor who tended her.” Thus spoke a plainly-dressed old lady who called at the health office. She was the proprietor of a baby boarding-house and was in search of the certificate of the death of an infant that had been under her charge. “The child's mother brought it to time. The woman failed te pay the board until she had got inte my debt day 1 went toldhe store read, and while I was came and took the since died, and she from knowing in erder to out of the insarance., If 1 however. il would near- ly pay me for the child’s board.” As finished s cing $he woman took on her lap a neatly-dsessed chald which sccogspanied her, saying: “Tunis is one of my boarders.” “How much do vou charge aweek to ire tor the babies?" was asl of her. “Two dollars,” was the reply, “and I do all their washing.” “Are they mostly the oMidren of rs 8 after a loa gone the child away. 1s ying 10 Eeep In where its death occurred ne wld ¢ $ $hiat aid get that, # i TH mao OAR @ Ww Ae | No, not at all. The little one that { died was the daughter of a woman who pever married, and she brought it to | me to board.” | “You spoke about | do you insure them?” “So that when they die on my hands I can give them a decent burial. Now, the little one taken away was about a year and a half old, and the insurance on it smouted to over $18. KR costs only 5 cents a week to insure a baby, and the amount to be realised on its death varies with the age of thechild.™ Farther investigation showed that there is an agency in’ Cleveland at which baby insurance is ome of the branches of business, Clirculam are 1s- sued by the agent showmg the immense profits made on a small investment. Lists are published of the children in- sured in Cincinnati, Cleveland, Dayton, and other cities. There can bano doubt that the insurance business combined with the boarding-bouse is a most pro- fitabile enterprise, insuranca. Why
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers