or
MY SHIr AT SEA.
Ah, what island, or what highland,
Hides my bonny bark from me?
Shelters it beneath some highland,
Drives it wild far out at sea?
*Twas an eerie day and dreary
When that little boat went out,
But the satlors all were cheery
As they pushed the ropes about.
QO, what pleasures and fond treasures
Did the little vessel bear!
More than one heart often measures
Found their stowage safely there,
And no warning came at dawning
That the days would not be bright
As the rosy-hues of morning,
When my ship sailed out of sight.
Walking, sleeping, praying, weeping,
Be it sun or be it rain,
8till the hopeful watch 1'm keeping
For my ship to come again,
When the drifted fog is lifted,
And the stars shine in the sky,
My strained eyes may 1 1 be gifted
With the sight of vessels nigh.
Then my stricken pulse will quicken
As 1 watch the feathery foam;
And fond, loving memories thicken,
As my ship comes riding home.
I SR NO AT,
DOLORES,
the church clock striking across the
water, six o'clock. There were st 11
faint streaks of red and bars of light in
the western sky, and the new moon
hung like a sickle overhead. 1 was
country born, young and strong, and I
lonely and there had
the village of gypsies and tramps, and
the passengers in the coach coming from
London had been robbed not so many
weeks ago. I had been a long way
across the country, and Tiger, and I
pathetic of dogs) that before the clock
struck the half hour we should be sit-
ting comfortably by the fireside.
The path ran for some little distance
close to the Black Pond; the hills rose
steep on eithr1 side of it; here and there
was a cluste:
a tree hung over the deep water.
the fast fading twilight I could still see
the reflections sharp and clear. |
80 close to the water that I could watch
the little mpples on its surface. The
path was muddy in places; 1 picked my
another.
front of me.
dashed forward with a bound. “Tiger,
—moving swiftly, noiselessly,
from me under the shadow of the bush-
es. “Who is there?”
No answer, only Tiger turned sud-
were stories enough about the pond and
its deep waters.
sinee a couple of
lives there: it was said that the body of
the girl had never been found, Some
too.
less maid? A low moaning sound fell
on my ears; horror stricken I turned
and fled up the hill as fast as my feet
couid carry me. But I did not run far.
“What is this?" asked my better self.
“Phebe Lyncombe, will you, the
sailor as ever sailed in the King’s feet
—will you turn coward and fly in a
panic? Heturn, and see if you can help
any fellow-creature in misery. Return
and face the danger, aml God be wilh
you.”
Some such thoughts ran through my
brain. | was always ope lo act on lm
pulse, and I retraced wy steps, walking
with a bold front and beating heaxt
straight in the direction of the shadow.
I could see it now again, a tall figure—
a woman's figure—in a long cloak.
Once it stopped and hid itself beneath a
Tiger growled and shown his teeth.
“Who are you?” I called in despera-
tion—*‘tell me.
help you?"
Then in the silence of the evening it
crept out of the darkness and ghded
of the pond.
“Take care!” 1 shouted, ‘‘the water
is deep”
For all answer it flung off the cloak,
threw up its arms and plunged into the
Black Pond with a shriek. Once glance
I had of a white face, the face of a
beautiful woman, her black hair stream-
ing round her; and then 1 rushed to the
water's edgé, beside mysell with horror.
I was more than a mile from the vil
lage. 1conid get no help—it was vain
to scream. By good luck the dog was
with me. “Seize her, Tiger! seize ber!”
and as 1 raised my hand he sprang after
the woman. A tree spread its branches
far over the pond at this point, I crawl-
ed along a bough asfar asit would
bear me, and so hanging over the water
managed to gain a firm hold of her
dress. By Heaven's mercy the pond
was not very deep ut this spot; 1 do not
think she was ever out of her depth,
and she had not lost consciousness,
How we did it I cannot exactly teil
you, but between us—Tiger and me—
we os her out, shivering, but alive, on
to the bank moaning and wringing her
hands, but alive, and, as far as [ could
see, unhurt. There was no time to
question ber, 1 must get homeé-—home
to the wanm fire-side, and take ber with
me. “Come,” I said, holding her hand
tight in mine, ‘‘come.” She lifted her
eyes and looked at me-—they were wild
with terror; her lips moved, but she
spoke in a strange t ngue that 1 could
not understand.
I toek np the cloak that lay on the
und and wrapped it round her, tak-
Pro cure that her face was turned away
from the pond.
for breath and to sob and moan. alt
past 5x struck, and seven struck before
we reached the garden gate, with Tiger
sniffing at our heels. Miriam, the house-
keeper was there watching for me. She
is a discreet woman; 1 knew I could
lier, **There has been an accident;
me take the lady in,” Rua, a
more;
and pdr her
her
How thankful I was
**Senorn,” she said, trying to sit up,
“As you will, Senora,” she replied:
A few moments later and
Her hands
of |
How |
did she come to be wandering alone by
the Black Pond? Who was she? Whence |
did she come? I was thankful very
thankful—ah! very thankful—that 1 |
On one
moment. The tears sprang to my eyes |
as I stooped and kissed her, Miriam is |
my own dear nurse, who was with my |
own dear mother as a girl, and lived |
with me during my husband’s absence. |
He had sailed many, many months ago
(I wnte of the year 182-) for a long
cruise, She persuaded me to change
my wet pelisse, she combed and brushed |
my hair, and reassured me about the |
strange lady. Not till then did I know i
how very tired 1 was,
My visitor passed a restless night; for
days she lay in a fevec, shivering and |
talking fast. Now and then she burst |
out in broken English, asking for a |
certain Captain Charles Walters over |
He had lodgings at |
Plymouth, it would seem, and she |
could not find the house. Miriam is as |
clever a nurse as she 1s a good house- |
keeper, and she nursed the lady with |
By degrees our pa- |
tient recovered without the help of the
doctor, who lived a good ten miles ride
Miriam had no high cpinion. But she
had many simple remedies of her own,
iishes and cooling draughts, and at last
story, I will make it short, but I can-
pot make it less sad. Her name was |
Dolores de Riano; she was a Spaniard |
and she had been wooed and won by an |
English officer, whose ship lay at anchor |
in the port of Barecelonia, hard by the |
house she lived with an uncle, (I, too,
in his letters.) This officer had married |
Dolores secretly; his ship bad sailed, |
and he had left her with her wedding
ring, which she dared not to show, and
his address written on a slip of paper—
*Lieutenaut Walters, 18 Melrose- ter- |
And there she was
to join him as soon as he sent for her.
For a whole year she had no tidings |
from him; then she .took her passage to
Plymouth in a merchant ship. They
liad a miserable passage, being delayed
on the voyage by adverse winds. She
had finally landed at Plymouth with a |
few golden pieces in her purse, friend- |
less and alone. She had assed in vain
for Melrose-terrace; no one Knew
such a street, or indeed, of the exist- |
ence of her husband, Lieutenant |
After a few weeks
She knew
At last she
thought to find her husband in London,
and as she could not pay her coach fare |
to walk all those many |
miles. Then as she passed the Black |
Pond that evening, faint and sufferiug,
she could no longer endure the misery
of suspense, and she had rushed into the |
water filled with a frantic longing to be |
at rest,
Having told her story with many
of
bless me for my goodness, (I repe.!
what she said.) But my heart was full
I believed that he had given her as
I did not tell her this, of
[ felt in talkiug to Miriam. My face
grew ht, and I clenched my hand as i
cried, “He is a heartless traitor!”
Madam; the lady trusts him still,”
‘ I do not believe it,” I said; **he has
decelved her cruelly.”
young and spoke out what 1 felt.
Miriam put her fingers to her lips,
but it was too late,
couch in the next room, had heard me
and called me to her side.
“Nevertheless,
love and my husband. Think, Madam,
if your husband should—"'
“My husband!” 1 exclaimed.
couid not be. But if it were possible
speak to him again, or desire to be re-
coneiled.”
and pressed it. How pretty she was in
a gray gown of mine, adorned with a
bunch of rose-colored ribbons Day by
day she grew more lovely, and day by
day 1 discovered fresh virtues in her,
I had not any one to consult at home,
$0 1 went to our old clergyman and
asked him to write letters on Doloves’s
behalf making inquiries concerning her
husband. 71his he did, and after some
same result, No one had heard of Lieun-
tenant Walters, and there was no such
name on the list of officers in his Ma-
jesty’'s navy. By degrees we left off
oxpecting to get any good news, only I
cherished a secret hope that when Am-
brose my husband, came homa-—in a
couple of months—he would throw some
light on the subject, Dolores staid on
with me. and I learned to love her
aearly, The neighbors were all pleased
with her society, and no one knew besides
Miriam that I had found her on that
Autumn evening by the Black Pond.
After that there came bitter days for
me, Phebe Lyncombe. It was Easter,
and the ree | ship Thunderboldt was
long due at Plymouth, and there
of her. 1
came, My uncle, an old admiral who
resided at Plymouth , had long promised
to send me a mounted messenger as
soon as he should have tidings of the
Thunderbolt, and day after day I s'ood
at the garden gate and looked down the
road in vain, In my trouble, Dolores
me, bore with my fits of despair, and
ring that dark season. One afternson
to put forth its young shoots, a deli-
cious perfume of vi lets was wafted in
from the garden.
and orderly, a bowl of yellow cowslips
stood on a table by the side of my in-
laid work box—Iit was one of Ambro-
flected in the murror hanging on the
chair over my tambour frame, with my
hair gathered high on my head, a hand-
kerchief pinned across my neck, and
the puffed sleeve of my white gown
Behind me
was the door; even as 1 looked it opened
quickly, There was a step 1 knew, the
sound of a voice I loved: ‘‘Where are
ing over the frame, no more gazing in
the mirror, no more watching for the
:nessenger; before I conld well jump
from my seat he was there, his face was
close to my lips— Well, 1t is Dolores’s
story that I am telling you, not mine.
he had outridden the messenger on the
The time passed quickly. As
we sat side by side looking out on to the
landscape, the hills and dales all green
that he wore a ring that I had never
seen before. “What a magnificent ring,
to the light that I might see it better.
flashing stone set in diamonds.
“I cannot tell you the whole story of
to my brother Charlford, he is il at
all about it.”
I knew that Charlford’s mad freaks
and misbehavior had long been a cause
#0 1 forbore to grieve him with another
word on the subject.
“Is that our good Miriam at ihe
door?’ asked Ambrose presently, Thare
was certainly a step in the passage; but
I found
of the house, Afterward [ remembered
hedge and gone out at the garden gate,
occurrence. When the supper bell rang
I began to wonder where Dolores could
be,
At 1ast I senta maid to
the parsonage bidding her hasten bome
Alas! she had leftan hour ago. We
searched all through the house, in the
garden and the paddock; it grew dark,
and I could no longer conceal my dis-
tress, Ambrose, too, looked grave,
went with the coachman, and they
made inquiries in the village; they even
walked as far as the Black Pond, but
they found no trace of Dolores.
There was nothing to be dome; we
the moming, when
my husband said that he would himsell
ride to Plymouth and sent out mounted
messengers to cour the country; she
could not be far off.
Very early the next day a little plece
of paper was brought to me. y ith
difficulty I deciphered the words that
were written in pencil: “Dear and bhon-
[ have left with
Ever and ever will 1 pray
1 shall never return,
my free will,
vant. 1 kiss your hands and your feet.
Dolores de Risno Walters,”
words, He made no comment on the
letter, Very shortly he bade rue a dov-
ing farewell, and set forth on his jour-
ney. [spent the day alone, hoping for
the return of Dwlores. Burely, I said
to myself, Ambrose, or one of the men,
must find her soon—she could not walk
far, and there was no coach to be hired
ware the contents of ber purse. Why
Was her brain un-
hinged by trouble?
and hear the news that I dreaded and
The gorse hedge at
lie garden gleamed golden
the end of
flowering hyacinths, the ferns in every
fey
the gate. “Tiger!” I cried struck with
a new idea, “find her, good dog. Seek
Dolores!” He seemed to understand nt
once when I fetehed a scarf of hers and
held it up to him. Without more ado
he set off down the lane and took a
short out across a fleld to a neighborin
wood. Every now and then he sto
and licked my hand as | followed
behind him, It was warm and shelter:
ed in the pine wood; the ground was
slippery with fir needles. The dog went
inst a low stone wall,
ran the high road to
Plymouth. the earth was
with green I noiselessly
across the o space, thinking to climb
make my way home by the
road. Tiger had pricked up his ears.
thers was a sound of Lorses’ hoofs; per-
haps it was Ambrose. For the moment
I forgot that I was seeking Dolores, but
as § neared the wood stuck I saw her.
Her head was turned away from me
and she was } over the wail
with clasped hands, straining her eyes
In the direction of the riders. The ¢
ter of the hoofs drew nearer, **
lores!” 1 cried, forward, **why
did you leave me? I bave been so un-
now, ’ Tor.
were stacked
On the other
home with me
oe were flashing with a strange light;
e grasped my arm and pointed down
| the road. **So alike,” she murmured;
| »ghild, forgive me! So alike, and I saw
| my ring on his finger. Look, look! who
is it?”
I looked, Ambrose had seen me al-
ready; Le was waving his hand; by his
| side rode a man whose face 1 seemed Lo
know—a man who looked weary and
dusty. Younger, yes, handsomer than
my husband, but careworn and iil, He
wore a slouched hat. IL could not well
distinguish his features, and yet as he
| they were familiar to me,
“Who is it? asked Dolores,
eagerly than before,
“My husband.”
“Which is your husband?
love of Heaven!”
“+ Ambrose Lyncombe,” I answered,
fairly pewildered; ‘‘the man who 8
waving his hand—the one nearest to the
wall."
“Phank God! thank God!”
Her beautiful face was radiant with
joy. Phen I saw my husband speak a
few low words to his companion, who
drew rein amd dismounted from his
horse. He was véry lathe; he could
| hardly walk, but there was no need for
| him to take many steps. Dolores had
more
For the
stretched hands, “Carlos, my beloved,
| miol??
“Forgive me, Dolores, forgive me,”
wus all he said, aud her loving arms
on his shoulder. Then, as he looked
| down upon her, his face glowing with
Charles Walters was the same
{ Charlford Lyncombe, my
| younger brother.
We feared a return of fever for Do-
lores, Dut she recovered spoedily from
ber fatigue, Charlford, indeed,
man ns
husband's
consequence of an accident that he met
| with abroad. The illuess that followed
all her troubles Dolores still clings to
him,
Jmitative Coloring io Marine Life,
The adaptation of the Innumerable
| color of the sea-weed 18 really marvel
ous, The younger, lighter green crus-
| taceans are always to be found on the
young, verdant fronds of Lhe plant,
while the older parts of the weed are
inhabited by older brown animals, The
| older stems are often encrusted wilh
| the white shells of bryozoa, and corres
ponding with these we are sure to find
white spots on the brown armor of the
| crabs, The legs of the animals are fre-
quently of an olive-green ground wilh
brownish spots, deceplively like the
slender sea~weed leaves that are just
beginning to turn brown. If one will,
as [ did pull one of the large plavts
upon the deck, leave it in a cask of sea
through it for crabs without disturbing
it, he wll find it very hard to discover
three or four of the animals, although
| he may be sure there are a quarter of a
the massa lively shake he will find a
sorts tumbling off the bush, whose be
havior will go far to verify Wagner's
view; for, if they are aliowed the oppor-
tunity, they will all swim back 0 the
the plant most like it in color.
1 tried
dark brown stem. The crustaceans
keep to their color, and the brown ones
they quickly escape observation.
Breaking It Gently.
——— —
A young scion of our financial aris-
tocracy, who had been on an extended
| graph and epistolary communication
| peturnedl the other day. He was met
| by an old and faithful employe of the
| house, .
“Well, Mike, how goes it?" said the
young man
* wBad enongly Master John, for your
| poor jackdaw is dead.”
| “Is he, indeed.
| gone the way of all flesh, How did he
| diet"
| “Well, they don’t rightly know, sir,
| but they think he must have overeat
| himself.”
| “The greedy fellow.
| give him so much for?’
“Well sir, it seems he must have got
What did they
3
i yng
| “Dead horses! What dead horses?”
| “The onrridge horses, 1t was a very
bad day and 8 heavy road, and they
were kept standing.”
“When? What day? What road?”
“The road to the cemetery, sir, and
the day of the funeral.”
“What fubersl?”’
‘Why, the misstress's, sir."’
» Not my mother’s!”
“The same, sir, rest her soul, She
took the master’s death so much to
heart thas she did not live three days
after him.”
“The master’s! Heavens, Mike; do
you tell me I bave lost both my pa-
rents!”
“The poor ould master took to his
bed when he received the bad news, and
univer left it, sir, till they put him tn his
éoffin.”’ LE »
“What bad news? What was the in-
telligence that afflicted the old gentle.
man so d rns
“The run on the bank, sir, which bas
stop payment, The oredit of the
house is gone, and you are not worth a
dollar.” ' t
boxes, glass shing lon
have been sheeted with glass
instead of copper, With the most satis.
a
‘» minimum,
The Fature Battiefield.
“No foctsteps, but some glances
backward,” was the name of the paper
Fourth Artillery. Capt.
that we were at present in the midst of
a transition period. The effect of
matical,
conditions of battle?’ he asked.
the present time, an idea has been
| battles of the future will be fought in
advances, or rather rushes of successive
skirmish groups. taking advantage of
ity to cover and that the
{
| every opportun
| ability to supply a steady stream of men
| and ammunition, that will be needed
| where the consumption is so rapid.
“Depend upon it,” continued Capt.
Field, “an attempt long persisted in te
| Aght battles without lines, would soon
| reduce them to the level of an Indian
Flowers in Perfumery.
“Did you know that the ladies use
In France it is
very common, and it 1s getting quite
usual in America. They take a bunch
of violets and place them in the bosom
of the dress. No manufactured per
fume can come up to the odor of the
flowers you know. Every morning,
rain or shine, an old doctor comes in
here, gets a bunch of violets, unbuttons
his vest, places them next his heart, and
walks out. I often wonder if he does
it for the perfume. 1 guess it is a case
i
i
i
|
i
“The florist sees plenty of pretty lite
tle romances, Very often a young man
has flowers sent to a certain house in
this city every morning; then there
comes the big order,the marriage,
| the intense watchfuluess and the inge-
| nous resources which are ihe heritage
| of barbarians.” Capl Field asked
| whether it would not be im; ossible, for
no nation would be long willing to com-
mit its fortunes to such confused and
| desultory, although gigantic skirmish.
es. where after the pall of smoke had
once settled, mo directing skill or fore-
sight could be of avail “Is it not im-
probable,”’ he said, ‘‘that the deadly
nature of the breech-loader may breed
| a caution which may confine future ar-
i mies so close to earth works as (o sug
gest that most degenerate period of the
Roman Empire, when the legiousr es
| who had hewed their way Lo the
| ereignty of the world, took refuge be-
| hind huge shields of wicker work. I
| believe that it will be impossible to keep
men in line on the actual
Capt. Field thought thal Americans
were admirably provided
| thing that could bring a reg
| line of battle in and
once there—thanks to Jreedmoor—they
would shoot better than most armies;
put had Americans any of those tact
| which could prevent ster? They
would stand in good stead in everything
they had been taught to do mechanic-
ally, and that was abou! all. Captain
| Field was alluding to the rank and file,
| Something ought w be done to intro-
duce systematic studies of the lessons of
history. Military history was nol ne-
glected, but there was history and his-
tory. It was of more importance for
Americans to know exactly how But.
ler failed, and where Bonaparte suc-
ceaded. “Why should not all the sur-
viving officers of the war,’ he asked,
‘he earnestly requested to contribute
information on their experience, which
information would te the most practi-
cable of text-books, and from which
text-books could be very readily prepa-
red? Why should we not have from
such a war a literature?”
Capt. Field said that it would not
do to assume trat there would be no
| more Indian wars, Until the national
tracts of the Indian were swept away,
it was absolutely necessary that men
should know how to deal with them in
lease of an outbreak. Opportunities
ought to be given to the youngster from
West Poigt”’ to study practical guides
| on the subject as it was a most import-
ant point of his profession.
SOV~
with
excellent
ics
i a
G18
EE ————
No Bibles.
——
“Ah!” he said, as the door opened,
“hut do | address the lady of the
house?”
**MNo, sir,"
{ face melted a Little;
| keeper.’
“Um. She is out then?”
“Yes sir-—gone to the skating rink.”
“ And the gentleman?”
“He's gone off to a raffle?’
“Um. Any daughters?’
“Two of "em, sir. The eldest, which
replied the girl, as her
“] am the house-
how to play euchre, and
| which is Susie, has ngged up as an act-
| ress and gene down to have a statuesqge
| photograph taken."
“Um. No sons?”
“Only one, sir, and this is the hour
| when he takes his boxing lessons. Did
| you wish to see any one in particular?”
“Well. I am taking orders for the
Cottage Family Bible, us I was in hopes
to secure & subscriber, Perhaps you
LE 4
"
“On, it’s no use talking, sir,
interrupted, as the door began to close.
the family next door. I think we have
suspended business in your line of
goods,
The Appliestion of Metkod.
of machine run easily. The
master and mistress of a house who
cation of method to every branch and
department of the household work. To
be well dona a
the proper time and
There must
everything,
its proper time
more fatal
habit of dawdlme, of lingering over a
littie task in a desuitory and indolent
spirit, of going Eh one bit of work to
another and finishing neither Exam.
ple is betlex than precept; and if the
rulers of the household display a vigor-
ously active spirit, all who serve under
them will be animated by it
the proper way.
The old
tale, you know. Last spring I used to
notice a couple go by here, a fine manly
young fallow and a girl pretty and
dainty with lovely brown hair and dark
blue eyes. They didn’t know each
other, but when the young man went
to business the girl was sure to be some-
where around where she could see him.
She lived right round the corner, and
she used to come in here and pretend to
be examining the flowers as he passed,
Then she would look up and watch
him as he went down the street. One
day as she went by she looked and said
to me: **O. what a funny hat,” and then
carelessly, as she began picking among
the flowers, ‘I who he is? I
caine very near la i
ous day the young fellow had been wo
ask who she was, and had sent her some
flowers. About a week afterward she
came in with a friend, and I beard her
telling the friend bow somebody had
been sending her flowers every Moning.
and she did wonder who it was. Well,
the best part of it all came aferward.
One morning he came in as usual, and
gardener took him back into the
conservatory. While he was there the
girl entered and stood near the counter
looking toward the window. Presently
he returped, apd as he started for the
door briskly, he said: * Well, send those
Aowers. as usual, up to 24—— street.”
Neither knew the other was near, and,
hearing the of the house ren-
; turned around, and they
t face to face. Well, 1 never saw
+ an embarrassd couple in all my
days. She bad a big Jacgqueminot near
her face, and it would have been hard
to tell which was redder, the rose or ber
cheek. She turned to the flowers and
he passed out, They didn’t come any
more. but not long ago 1 saw them pass
together, They both looked in, and
when they saw me he laughed and she
blushed.
a
shop Garis
Not many years ago a committee of
ladies in New York undertook to in-
quire into the justice of the complain
made by shop girls that they were not
provided with seats. The committee
to the astonishment of humane and
intelligent people, announced as the
result of their investigation the opinion
that the shop girls did not need to sit
down and ought not to be provided with
seats. In the face of this opinion, seb
forth by persons supposed to be ac-
quainted with the needs of their sex, it
has been impracticable to accomplish
much in behalf of the shop girls. and in
by far the greater number of shops they
are compelled tostand during the whole
GAY.
t is not. therefore, surprising to learn
tnat as a class they are peculiarly liable
to illness. Most of them are without
money, except the pittance earned by
them. without friends, and with no
home except the boanding house. An
affort is now making by caritable wo-
men to provide hospital accommoda-
tions for these girls where they can re-
ceive care and medical attendance when
too ill to work. This is certainly a most
deserving chanty, but it is hardly ne-
cessary “sc point out that if the girls
were relieved from the necesity of keep-
ing on their feet for ten twelve con
secutive hours daily there would be less
pead of a hospital. By all means let us
have the hospital, but let us also insish
that shop girls shall be provided with
seats, whatever may be the opinion of a
committee of ladies who have never
personally tried the experiment of spend-
ing the greater part of their lives on
their feet.
A Latinist,
emma
The statement made by Rev. Dr.
Todd, of New Haven, that he does not
“believe there's a Professor in Yale
College to-day who can translate at
sight, and without recourss to well
thumbed lexicons, a page of Greek or
Latin with which he has had no pre-
vious acquaintance,” reminds the New
Haven (Conn.) Register of the conster-
nation of a recent graduate upon look-
nized the fact that the first
father would do, upon seeing the cer-
tificate of graduation, would be to ask
was himself a college gradu-
he could not hope to de-
translation,
The sou, therefore, hastened to a pri
ted to memory and subsequently re-
father with the necessary
stutterings and mutterings to make the
of