ALONE,
I miss you, my darling, my darling;
The emabers burn low on the hearth;
And stilled is the stir of the household,
And hushed is the voice of its mirth;
The rain plashes fast on the terrace,
The winds past the lattices moan,
And I am alone
I want you, my darling, my darling;
Iam tired with care and with fret;
I would nestle in silence beside you,
And all but your presence forget,
In tho hes of the happiness given,
To those who through trusting
grown
To the fullness of love in contentmenty
But I am alone.
have
I call you, my darling, my darling;
My voloes echoes back on my heart;
I stretch my arms to you in lounging,
And lol they fall empty, apart.
I whisper the sweet words you taught me,
The wards that we only have known,
Till the Blank of the dumb air is bitter,
For I am alone,
I need you, my darling, oy darling;
With its yearning,
The load that divides us weizhs harder;
I shrink from the jar that it makes,
Qld sorrows rise up befors m+;
Old doubts make my spirit thy own,
Oh, eeme through the darkness and save
me,
Wor 1 am alone.
Be i —
THE OUTWARD SEEMING.
“No, not a single cent will they get
from me,’ said Miss Sarah Jenkins,
with a peculiar expression of her this
Hps, as she took her spectacles from
her nose, and slowly replaced in its en-
welope the letter she bad been reading
from her friend, Miss Hepzibah Lockey,
“jf think I koow my duty as well as
most folks, an’ givin’ heip to Saurabh
Bayard an’ her children dont come
nuder that head,”
said Miss Hepzibah,
you.”
“Let 'em look, They'll take it out
in lookin’. I told Tom when he mar-
ried Barah Bayard that the day’d come
when he'd rue it,
spindlin’ an’ sort o'helpless.
was that headstrong he wouldn't hsten
to anybody. He spent his last cent in
buyin’ that farm over to Milford, an’
then had to mortgage it "tore he could
start his erops.”
“It was unfortunate his dyin" so
soon,” said Miss Hepzibab, who was a
left Sarah comfortable, I shouldn't
two years to get along with (hose three
children.”
“Moet likely she has. But I don't
see as I'm called on to shoulder her
burdens with her. Goodness
I've enough already without lookin’ ont
day clock, and the purring of the cat by
the stove, she was thinking what she
| should write in renly; in what words
she would romind Sarah of Tom's de-
| claration that ‘‘neither he nor his
| should ever ask for a favor at his sis-
| tex’s hands,”
The olook struck four with a loud,
| whirring noise, whieh ronsed Miss Jon-
kins with a start from Ler revery, and
' she sprang up, sarprised and shocked to
find how long she hud been idle,
I'll let Ler wait n while for an answer,
| she thought. “It'll do her good to be
[in suspense a bit, And I reckon it
ain’'s too inate to g: after them black-
berries 1n the mila! -lot, First thing 1
know them pesky town-boys will be
uiter "em and I won't get none for jam,”
She put on her sunbonnet, and taking
| ont,
i to the meadow to look back to the
| her abode there,
It was a large, old-fashiened houke,
| and plenty of windows, The grounds
i abundance of flowers bloomed in the
| front garden, It would have been a
{ had been grown, ‘I'he place had been
| left to Miss Sarah by an aunt, and Tom
{ had had no share in it. Miss Sarah,
{ her brother who was very much her
{ jumor, until he was able to strike out
| tor himself; and she bad made him a
| present of tive hundred dollars when he
| attained his majority,
| had done more than her daty by him,
some consideration in the matter of his
marriage, She had never felt the same
nortuis nil
she spoke of
beed the old motto, “0
| nigi bonwn,” whenever
him,
The blackberries in the meadow were
{ very ripe and large, and so plenteons
that Miss Sarah had no diflicalty in fill.
| ing her pail in a very short time,
It occurred to her as she walked
| homeward that perhaps the minister's
| quarts of berries, such as these. So,
{ on reaching home Miss Sarah filled a
| smaller pail with the fruit, and, starting
| out again, turned her steps towards the
| village,
“I look such a sight in this sun.
way,” she thought, as she approached
| the neat frame dwelling in which her
| pastor lived. “Like as not they've got
| compano to tea.”
The heat, combined with the long
| Sarah to feel very tired, and as she en-
“Yes, your hands are pretty full —
that's a fact,” said Miss Hepzibah, “I
| eyes fell on a very delightful shaded
i arbor, she concluded to rest a few
don’t know what the minister would do
without you.”
““1 reckon I've labored pretty faithful
Jenkins, said Miss Hepzibah, as she
rose to go. “You can allers take com-
tort in thinkin’ thai, But I do wish |
you could see your way to help Susan
a bib.”
“She don’t deserve help,” and Miss
Sarah's tone was decidedly seid. “She'd
oughter have taken my advice in the
first place, 1 told "em how it would be,
an’ i$ comes out pretty much as I smd.
I told Tom she was too everlastin’ del-
eate, an’ would break down in less'n
five years, But he would have his own |
way an’ marry her, an’ now she's laid
up—jnst as I said she'd be.”
a
Miss Hepzibah, as she went ont,
mortal headstrong.” i
Miss Jenkins often boasted that she |
never spent an idle minute; and there |
was always work of one kind or another |
for her to do; but after her visitor had |
gone she sat for some time with ner |
hands in ber lap, thinking over the |
contents of the letter she had just re- |
oaved., i
| she thought, as she seated herself on
one of the rustic chairs, *‘I wish
goodness I'd brought my umbrella,”
the vines, with
which the arbor was well screened, she
by a
Miss Sarah drew back, acd wished
ot bringing the berries, or had stopped
gracefully untidy,
She had no doubt that the minister
way to the arbor, and her heart sank at
the thought of being found in such a
plight. Bat suddenly the stranger
paused, and bent to pick a rose of great
beauty,
“If we could ouly be like this rose,”
she said, “as fair within as without,”
*“You forget,” saad Mr, Lawton, “how
often we see worms eating into the very
heart of the most beautiful roses,”
“Is nothing true then? Are we never
able to put faith in the ‘outward seem-
orphan daughter to the man who, to |
use the expression of his nei
far too delicate and dainty to prove of
such belp as the wife of a farmer of
slender means,
Tom, however, had been very ha
in Lis wedded life, and had never
gretied his choice, as he took pains to
say $0 his sister whenever he wrote to
her.
Aud Miss Barah, who wasn’t as good
a Christian as she thought herself, and
did not fancy being called a false pro-
phet, resented his happiness, and allow.
ed a feeling of enmity to grow up in her
heart against Sarah,
‘Tom's death seven years after his
marriage, was a terrible blow to hs
wile and his children, who were left
almost penniless.
But Sarah, knowing the way in which
she was regarded by her sister-in-law,
did not dream of calling upon Miss
Sarah for help.
Through the influence of a friend the
poor young widow secured the position
of teacher a district school, and for
two years, on a very s ender salary, had
managed to keep the wolf from her
Tor th her
en the mortgage on home waa
foreclosed, and & long illness which
followed her removal from the farm to a
PPYy
“Those who make the londest pro.
as I was saying
| # moment ago, there are so many, oh,
| 80 many, who think themselves Chris.
tisns because they mo regularly to
| church, teach in the Snnday school,
| use no bad language and give liberally
to the missions, But they do not think
it necessary to guard their thoughts, to
fill their asily lives with Litle acts of
kindness, Now, you are a stranger
| here and are to leave us to-morrow, so
I can speak to you as 1 could not to one
familiar with the people who make up
my congregation, I will give you a
ease in point. I have mm my church a
woman of middle age, who lives alone
on a farm a couple of miles from the
village, Bhe is very active in the
or give to the poor. Sho has provided
foe the eduneation of several! heathens in
Africa, and has tanght a class of men 10
the penitentiary, visited the jail and
msde hersell generally useful, Bat,
nevertheless, she is selfish, narrow and
sordid to a pitiable degree, She does
nothing without making & show about
it, 850 as to be well
not an hour ago, that she had declared
her intention not to help in any way
that brother's sick and penniless widow
hs
ial
R
g
past T_T a SA——_
interrupted the conversation by rou.
ning down the path with the announce
ment that tea was ready, and the minis-
ter said no more,
But Miss Barah had heard enough,
Bhe was pale and trembling, and so
greatly disturbed that when she hurried
from the arbor, as soon as she could
without being perceived, she left her
pail and berries behind.
ral of hor friends on her way home,
but she did not even bow to them, so
absorbed was she in the
what the minister had said,
Reaching home she sat down in the
big rockingohair by the kitchen stove,
and leaning her chin on her band
| stared before her with eyes from which
{the soales bad fallen, And she was
| looking inward —for the first time in her
life.
if the sound of the words frightened
just
tian,’
Contrary to the expectations of Mr,
Lawton, Miss Sarah did not come to
the regular prayer-meeting on Thurs
| day night, and when he called to sce
| her on Friday he was surprised to see
{ three curly headed children
mud pies in the front yard who in.
| had “come to live with Aunt Sarah
| forever,”
| warm after her journey to Milford, she
| seemed quite happy.
| her into the parlor and took a seat.
| "Yes, it'll be a surprise to most folks,
fbut 1 ain't afraid but they'll
| through 18."
“I think you will be well rewarded
{ dren here, Your life was very lonely.
| “Yes, I reckon I'll take considerable
| 88
| nice to see ‘em round, for they're well
mannered children, Barah's been very
the boy as yon come in? He's the very
| moral o' Tom.”
| village be wondered what had waked
{Jenkins invited her mivister and his
wife to tea, The table was well eup-
| plied with cake, pickles and preserves,
ing a position before Mrs, Lawton,
“I'm so fond of blackberry jam,”
said the lady, as she helped herself to
| the article in question,
| girl found in the arbor in our garden,
{ but took it for granted they were left
| there for us, snd so took possession of
| mystery jam. I've often wondered if
the mystery would never be explained,”
But it never was,
An Importaut Food Heform
Discoveries of much importance on
| account of the relation they bear to-
ward a more wholesome supply and
consequently upon the public health,
| have been recently made in the process
i of refining cream of tartar. Cream of
{ tar, or argol, which collects in a erystal-
{ line deposit upon the bottom and sides
| of wine casks during the fermentation
of the wine. This tartar, in its crude
| state, contains lime and other impuri-
| ties, which no process of refining known
{ prior to that here described was able to
| entirely remove. It has been possible,
| it is true, to neutralize the lime to some
| method was resorted to in order to pro-
| cure cream of tartar in small quantities
i
| this purpose were not always washed
{ out
quality.
caused cream of tartar to be classed and
sold as pure when it did not contain
rity. The major part, however, of that
cent. pot infrequently
upon analysis, or debased to a degree
Lire weight.
If you have the means of travel, the
best time for this enjoyment is after
fifty. You will then have read enough
to make travel useful and profitable.
i ——
IY a four-inch and a two.ineh shaft
are both solid, snd each makes one-
| hundred or any other given number of
tarps in one minnie or other specified
consumed in torning the larger as in
turning the smailer shaft,
The aluminium pyramid which forms
the japex of the Washington monument
has a perpendicular elevation of 9} in.
ohes, and each side of the base meas.
ures Oj inches, Its weight is abundred
ounces, It it were made of copper its
weight would be 336 ounces, Tho sur.
face appears much whiter than silver,
and is so highly polished thst it reflects
| A it iu the Clonds,
| “Marian, dear, how is the morning,
| fair or cloudy?” inquired Ethel Ray,
| turniag on the invalid couch, where she
lay day as well night.
Marian swept the scant curtain back
| from te narrow window of their poor
room.
“Dai't and cloudy,” sia replied, the
j cold arcariness of the new day striking
{a chill to her sensitive, heavily-bur-
dened heart, A tired;
{ swept over her delicate,
| her mouth, a shadow in Ler eyes. Ethel
| moment Ler own grew les
{ bright,
**Never mind; there will be a rift in
!
i
renewed hope,
*1 am glad you have sucn faith, pet,”
street,
pity for a lot sadder than her own the
{ girl lost some of her discontent.
| turned from the window with a bright
| er expression and put on her hat
{ cloak to start out on that weary round
of music lessons which were their sup-
| port.
“IL am sorry to leave you
| Ethel, but it will be late before I can
get through.”
“Do not fret about me, Marian, Mrs
O'Malley will coms in and give me my
{ lunch and a fresh glass of water, and |
| have this beautiful lace to mend for
Miss Constantine, and that magazine
you brought me yesterday to read. Oh,
turn.”
“Well, well, it is comforting to have
{80 brave and busy a little sister at
home, I think of it often
out, and it gives me courage.”
bending over the couch
tender, misty eyes,
The crippled girl clasped the slender
hand caressing her hair, and drew it
{ down close to her pale cheek.
“Am la help to you Marian? Oh,
| that thought makes me happy! I lie
here such a helpless, useless creature;
sometimes | have feared that I was
only a burden to you."
**Never think that again, dear one-
pever. If it were not for you"
She broke off, and stooping, kissad
the sweet pale face resting on the pil-
low, but when she would have moved
sway, Ethel held her a moment long
“Marian, darling, do not lose
faith and hope. There will be
said
clear
clouds will vamsh,”
“I will try to think so,” she replied
with a smile—a smile that vanished the
moment she left her sister's presence,
and memory began to bring up one by
{one the events of the two years just
passed,
The girls had been left orphans at an
early age, but with property suflicient
to supply all they could ever need. not
only of necessities, but even luxuries.
Their guardian controlled and managed
the money, and they lived in his house,
under the care of his good-hearted
maiden sister, Ethel bad always been
lame and delicate, but Marian went out
into the world, seeing and enjoying its
} beauties and pleasures,
Walking swiftly along to give her
first music lesson, she drew a sharp
breath of anguish, as memory too faith-
fully recalled all the glory and happi-
ness of a three months tour in Europe,
with a party of friends, just before the
downfall of fortune. At the very out-
(set they met Mark Keller, handsome,
| traveled, and to the young girl a very
kingamong men. He joined the party,
| attentions, The routes they traveled
point out all that was beautiful or in.
teresting. It was a golden season, and
the girl's heart surrendered in spite of
womanly pride and reluctance.
she had no cause to feel shame or to
believe her love unsought for. One
mellow, moonlight night in an
Italian garden he stretched out his hand
| to her with sudden, passionate words of
| love, and so eloquently did he plead for
the sweet gift of all her future life, she
could not withhold the jsromise to be
his wile.
“You shall never regret it, You
confidence.
“1 am happy now,’
flushed and shy, but radiant.
They wandered long among the flow-
ers, feeling that heaven lay about them:
but the next morning the girl received
! bad news from home. She only made
{ out clearly that her presence was need-
s
| she began
{ journey, Keller earoestly begged to be
[allowed to accompany her, but she
i gently refused. He musi go on with
their friends, and if she needed him,
she woud write for him to come,
“] shall come on in & few weeks
whether you send for me or not. We
gether, Marian.”
She returned home to find their guar.
dian dead and their fortune gone, swept
away in some ill-advised speculation.
The maiden lady songht a home with
relatives, and Marian Ray found her.
solf mmong the world’s workers, and
with a helpless invalid to take care of.
Helpless, did I say? Nay, she was the
only hope and comfort of poor Marian’s
heart, for ber handsome, wealthy lover
came not, and the letter she wrote to
him explaining their reverse of fortune
remained unanswered. She tried to
think of him with contempt, to hold the
love that failed in the hour of her bit.
terest need as valu but she only suc.
ceeded in tormenting own faithful,
loving heart, which, in spite of pride
and reason, clung to that short, sweet
romanee with a hold death
break.
All day she walked
f
i ;
£€s &
sit
1
| cannot,” she thought with a happy
smile that ended in a sigh,
It was dark when she reached home,
iand hurrying eagerly up stairs she
| pushed open the door, anxious to be
| with her sister as soon as possible, They
| were careful with the fuel, with every.
i 2
{ thing; necessity forced them to study
{ economy, and M rian expected to find
| the room in darkness, only a scanty
{| handful of coals mm the grate. Bhe
| entered, to find a glowing fire and the
table set with dainties, while the little
Lteakettle steamed merrily on the hearth.
“Ethell” she cried, hastily throwing
ward her sister's bed.
**Oh, Marian, sister!”
in a suffocating throb of pain and rap-
| ture, for out of the semi-darkness of the
| corner Mark Keller advanced, with out-
stretched hands to meet her,
“Marian have you po welcome for
mer’
A chilling remembrance of all
and neglect swept over her, and pride
rose in arms,
“Certainly, I—1 welcome yon,
Keller,” she saia, stifily, and stepping
back a little,
“What! lave you forgotte
cried in keenest disappointment,
“No, #8'r; it is because | remember
that I can give you no friendlier greet
ng.
"
DY
nr
he
I cannot 8°
“But, Marian, he
letter
pass over such slight
did not
get your
Alps kept him a prisoner for several
weeks, and then he had search and
search, and has just found us,” sau
Ethel, half raising herself up, the erim-
son firelight giving even ber pale face a
roseate tint,
Marian's face changed and her eyes
mutely questioned her lover's
“It is all true. Could you believe I
| loved wou so lightly?’ he murmured;
{and this time she did not shrink back
| when he approached, but gave him the
| welsome he craved,
“*Tis the rift in
said it would come, a
believe, thank God.’
Ethel fell softly back among her
lows, her delicate hands clasped,
eyes radiant,
rem ——— AD WP ——
¢
Lo
or
~
the cl
nd I
Hope
had faith U
Shakespeare's Meroluos,
and artists whose
hh men-children only.
of Shakespeare's fellow
| dramatists, Ben Johnson, was one of
these, Admirable as were his wit, his
judgment, his learning, satine
There poets
genius brings fort
The greatest of
are
his
ence for art, his constructive talent, he
could not fashion a noble or beautiful
woman. Ben Johnson wrought superb-
in bronze, and ran his metal
carefully constructed molds; he could
work in such fluer elements of air
light as those from which a Miran.
di is framed, and some of these subtle
elements enter into each Shakes
peare’s heroines. On the other hand, a
far less robust genius John Webster one
of Shakespeare's dramatic discipies, de-
fighted in nothing so mach as in full
length studies of tragic female figures,
fe
iv
not
# .
Ana
§
ai
his plays beside these—sinister and cyn-
| But in his greatest dramas all exists for
| the sake of the one woman after whom
each drama 1s named--the Duchess of
Malfi, Webster's lady of sorrow, and his
White Devil, Vittoria Corombona, on
whom, splendid in her crime, he turns
a high light of imagination that dazzles
while we gaze. This was nol Shakes
| peare’s method. lo no play of his do
or conceived as a dramatic unit. And
hence indeed it is almost an error to
| study the character of any of Shakes
peare s heroines apart from the associ-
| irice is hardly intelligible apart from
Benedick; the echoing voice of love re-
bounds and rebounds in Romeo and
Juliet,” inextricably intermingling from
lover to lover, until death has stilled all
sound; in that circle of traitors through
! which Shakespeare leads us in his **In-
ferno,” Macheth and his Queen are mis.
srably united for ever by their crime
and its retritmtion.
sms EE
The Fashions in Jokes,
| out of season, but it may be packed in
| camphor and will be in style when the
| freezes come again,
| The roller skate joke is very popular,
and 1s worn on all occasions, either
| with or without trimming,
to pall upon the taste. It is quite be-
| coming when worn with passementerie
| edging.
Spring poetry jokes are undergoing a
revival, and are quite au fait in re.
cherche circles, Witha waste basket
overskirt, they may be worn either
morning or evening in the house,
| holds its own, and is really one of the
{ most popular and fashionable seen in
polite society.
The mule joke is relegated to the
commoner clas: and may be called
‘old fashioned.’ Itisstill in favor in
the rural districts, aud seems destined
to continue for several years
The angry wife-at-3-0'clock-in-the-
morning joke is not in such favor as
formerly, but still many insist
peared. Occasionally, however, it
Pe seen tied With a knot of ribbon quits
|
| Types of Bewuly,
! men —— —
k In Paris more than in New York or
| in any other great city, there is a deci.
{ded fashion in beauty as well as in
| dress, which changes as reglasly as de
the seasons, and which sometimes takes
very queer and curious freaks. For
{ Instance, last spring the type of beauty
{that was all the rage was what was
j termed the “Daniel Gabriel Rossetti
| Style. This Lype of beauty is assuredly
jone of the most peculiar known. It
i was originated by the Princess de Sa.
| Ran, who is a great leader of fashion in
Paris, and who appeared in her box at
the opera one evening gol ten up in the
wonderfully striking *Dauiel Gabrie?
lossetti style.” The most neticeable
of this style of beauty is the hair, which
is dyed green, and arranged in a pyra-
mid fashion on the top of the head.
| Strange to say, the green ha'r, though
{of course looking unnatural, is Very
| pretty and odd, It is dyed the most
j delicate and lovely shade of g sen that
known, namely, Nile-green. The
complex on that goes with this hair
must be like a soft, blushing peach. all
Cream: and white, The eyes are black
or brown, the lips their natural color,
and the eyebrows dyed to mateh
hair, Floatmg gowns, white in eolor,
(and composed of airy, fairy talle, or
{ fuille, are aways worn with this type
of beauty, Every woman in Paris had
the mania for appearing like a “Daniel
(Gabriel Rossetti beauty” for a while,
present in Paris, which by the
way Victor Hugo calis the “‘centre of
| civilization, green hair reigns no more,
jand Dame Fashion dictates that her
daughters shall now appear in as many
different styles of beauly as possible,
believing no doubt, that variety is the
nee of life,"
In New York, fur the past two sea-
| sons, there has been great rivalry exist.
ing between the lovely bloade and the
darling brunette beauties, The war
wages { usly, and is 18 hard to
the present sent wiuel is to
come out victorious, and whether blonde
heir darker sistexs will lead
his winter, and which will be the more
popular, We often s~e in one
metropolis as many real Liondes and
| many tru
is
the
but at
Br
¥
Bulli urio
tell al 150
DERLUIES OF L
14
2
Go not
ad
w
ir
Pheda
¢ bruneties as we haven Ne
real blonde has light
with f gold through #, eves
i that look like wild violets, complex
| rare and white, with a delicate flush
the cheek, and light eyebrows the color
{of the hair. True blondes never have
dark eyebrows’
If a woman has all the above reguire-
ments that go to make up a blonde, and
fark or black eyebrows, her beauty
comes under another type known as the
“Van Dyke Blonde,” of which Lady
Mandeville 18 one of the most striking
examples we have ever seen. Her hair
is a wonderful yellow, ber csaplexion
| fair as a lily, and her eyes black as
| aloes, with eyebr: to malch. “The
| Van Dyke blonde’’ isa type of beauty
not often s=en. It is considered by far
the more distingue type.
Although alm everbody
what is requisite (0 be a true brunells,
there are still a few who are pol even yet
| educated up to it, and who call a wo-
| man who has a dark clear skin, “cheeks
likes roses and lips like the cherry,”
hair purplish black, and dark grey eyes,
a brunette. No woman is a true bru-
nette who has not very brown or very
black eyes,
What is known as the “Irish type”
| of beauly is one of the loveliest. No
| eye is so blue, so large, so expressive or
so heavily fringed as that of the pos-
sessor of this type; no hair is so glossy
and dark and heavy; no complexion so
rosy and healthful, and to people in
general this type is the most bewitching
and fascinating.
| A type of beauty whioh has seen its
| day, but of which we see representa-
| Lives occasionally, is what is known as
| the “strawberry blondes.” Brick-red
Lair, blue eyes and fair, pink complex-
ions are the accompaniments of Uhis
{type. The “yellow blonde’ is another
[type which is rapidly going out of
fashion, and *“‘yellow blondes" are sel-
{dom seen now except on the stage,
Fanny Davenport is an example of this
type.
"he daughters of Spain and Italy are
the best examples of the bruneite type
of beauty; those of England and Ger-
many of the bloasde type; those of
| southern Ireland of the Irish type, and
those of Greece of the Van Dyke type.
Here in America we bave a mixture
{ of all types, as we have a mixture of all
A
ik
gt reaks J
SUITORS OU
On
on
rT
i
knows
| nations, The true American (ype of
{ beauty, however, is neither df the
{ blonde mor brunette, Van Dyke nor
Irish, Daniel Gabriel Rossetti, 'straw-
berry or yellow blonde types. The true
American beauty has hair soft and
brown, eyes of grey or blue, complexion
| rather white, clear and devoid of rich
color, and features not by any means as
regular as those of the other types of
beauty, but possessing far more expres
sion,
The Wax Fiant.
The wax plant of Carolina and Penn-
gvivania is now grown ou an industrial
scale in Algeria. The fruit, inclesad in a
wiux, of the same chemical composition
as beeswax, makes an excellent substi.
tute for it for laundry and Co pur-