MIGHT HAVE BEEN. Wo longer, rose embowered and bright, Pale memory flings her portals froe Wo fairy scenes of golden light And sparkles of the summer sea. Ihe arches green are overgrown, The trellised vines are sere anid thin, Where through the vision marks alone The shadows of the Might Have Been, W here once the jocund hours in troops Sped lightly on, with jest and laugh, The pilgrim form of sorrows stoops, And falters on his feeble staff. Dark troubled care a-muttering sits, And folly, hand in hand with sin, Xow ghost-like o'er the threshold flits, To moek us with the Might Have Been. From ruined tower and shatterad fane, Regret, the solemn raven croaks, And bat-winged messengers of pain, Beat the dull air with ceaseless strokes, The fatal gulfs we blindly crossed Again in all their woe are seen, And phantoms of the loved and lost Smile sadly from the Might Have Been. ee, Memory, close thy portals gray, . And o'er my soul oblivion cast, ©r send dark tears to blot away The vistas of the bitter past! Wald, wild regrets, hut all in vain, For that surcasse we ne'er may win! ©, speechless heritage of pain— The anguish of the Might Have Been. EN SR. iT COULD NOT BE WORSE. “Your last day? Dear, dear! Must you go to-day, Harvey?” said Mrs, Seely, looking across the breakfast fable at her son with affectionate con- Sern, Aud ber daugnters, Kitty and Mar- gery, echoed her words, shor week?” said his father, breaking *" % yartmer, though “Now that I'm a partner, it's hard work getting off,” responded Harvey Bocly; **it was all I could do; in fact—" He paused suddenly. “What was all you could do?” in- quired Kitty. “Well,” said Harvey, laying down Bis knife and fork, with a beaming amile, “here goes! Here's the news Ive been saving up for you fill the last, from o natural modesty, It was all I eonld do to get things arranged so that ¥ could go on my wedding trip, a month hevce, I am going to be mar. ried.” with a clatter, and Mr. Seely dropped Bis roll hastily. “Married!” said Margery breathless. Mrs, Seely alone remained calm. She rolled up her napkin and put it im its ring, and looked at her son $hrough her gold-rimmed glasses com- posadly. 3 She felt, however, that this was an ®oportant crisis. bi pleasant home to “‘get a start” iu peoted great things of him. would distinguish himself in the pro- ments, and a heavy dowry. Their hopes had seemed likely to be fulfilled. Harvey had proved himself possessed of remarkable business quali- $les; he had nsen quickly, and had re- seutly exceeded their wildest ambitions All that now remained to be desired was his safe conquest of the beautiful and aristoerstic young person of their dreams, with her many talents and her substantial inheritance, It was not to be wondered at, there. his watch -chain in vervons suspense, and that Mra, Seely opened her lips pound that all important question: “Who is she?” “She is Migs Dora Berdan, at pres. ant,” said Harvey smilingly. “Berdan?” Mrs. Seely repeated, and maised her brows inquiniogly. **I don's thik I have heard of the family.” “Not at all likely,” Harvey rejoined. “They are quiet people.” “Berdan!™” Mrs. Seely repeated mus- ingly. “No; I have not heard of them. Where do they live?” with a little gasp; her husband turned ) Jumayed face upon his son, and aly Margery gave little screams, eyman street! $he regions of aristocracy; it was peo- pled with working-girls, with seam. stresses, and with small shop-keepers; women, for all the Seelys knew, “Not Weyman street, Harvey?” said Tin father a ingly. “Certainly — Weyman street,” Harvey mepoated, oul dish B04 ~ab8 cannot be of good 1 y, living in Weyman street?” said Mrs, Seely anxiously, “The family is quite respectable,” Dora's " ho # be called a beauty. And as for genius ~-ghe's very clever at accounts; but she doesn't sing, or paint, or anything of that sort. She's never nad the time or money for such things, poor girl!” But Margery had turned away with an impatient gesture, “There is nothing, then,” she said, despairingly; ‘no; it couldn’t be worse.’ arvey rose from his seat, with an energy which set the bell in the castor tingling. “This is absurd!” he said indignantly ~*It is more than absurd; it is unjust and narrow-minned, How sensible—- | presumably sensible people,” Harvey corrected rather bitterly, **can say, in regard to a person they have never seen, ‘that 1t could not be worse,’ is past my comprehension.” “We will not talk of it,” said Mus, Seely, holding up a restraining hand, “Disonssion will not mend matters, and you are to be married next month?" “On the ninth" added rather dubiously, “By no means,” said his father short- ly. “You could hardly expect it,” said Mrs. Seely reproachially, “Very well; ‘if Mohammed won't come—" you've heard the observation, We shall pay you a visit immediately on our return from our wedding tour, with your kind permission, You must know Dora.” When he left the house an hour later, he had the required permission. His mother and the girls had even | kissed him good-bye, in an injured and { reproaching way, and his father had | shaken hands coolly, But his ears still rang with | odious assertion, “If coald not be | worse!” and he was thoughtful all the way back to the city, ® ® * ¥ ¥ * ¥ excitement, Harveys wedding tour was completed { and they had received a telegram that “on hand” to-night with his wife, The dining-room table was set for one end of it to the other nervously. sbout uneasily, watohing through the { window for the return of the carriage { from the station, “1 hope,” said Margery with a nerv- Iwill be | Think of the people who will call! I | hope she won't be worse than we're | prepared to see her, | ‘She couldn't be,” said Mrs, Seely | dismally. There was a roll of wheels, and the | twinkle of the ocarrisge-lamp at the door, and the bell rang : harply, Kitty and Margery clasped hands in sympathetic agitation; Mr, Seely drop- | ped his paper and rose; and Mrs, Seely dignity. It opened wide before she could reach it, and Harvey entered, his face snflased with genial blissful smiles, “This is amy wife,” ters, Kitty and Margery. And with a caressing touch, he took her by the hand, and led her forward among them-—— What! Mr. the hand she had started to hold out, and Margery gasped. apparently forly years, with sickening affectation of aud with a diminutive bonnet perched thereon, with an af fected, mincing gait, and a sumpering smile, “This is my wile,” Harvey repeated; “have vou no welceme for her?” The vnde tittered. “Meboe she thinks I ain't good encugh for ‘em, dear?” she observea tartly. “Impossible, my pet,” Hurvey re. sponded, and patted her falsely bloom | cheek affectionataly; “besides, if you were but a shadow—a caricature of your own peantilul self, they would not have been surprised. They were prepared for the worst,” youthfulness, meaningly. | The truth of his words flashed over | them, | “Yes, they had all said repeatedly, “it could not be worse.” Bat this wretched, wrinkled, bedizened creature ~had they dreamed of this? Harvey watched them with au undis- turbed smile-—his father, turning away at lsat, and robbing his forehead with his handkerciuel weakly; Mrs, Seely, gezing at her danghter-in-law with a dreadful fascination, and the girls, sinking into chairs in dismayed silence, “Well, mother,” said Harvey lightly, “of course a new addition to the family is an object of interest; but don't forget that I have an appetite, and married has rather improved it. Take off your bonnet, my dear, Here, Kitty. Kitty came forward with a set face snd tightly-olosed lips, to receive the marvelous combination of beads and atly. “Tarile ” gids amved smile; ‘‘sin’t nothing I admire so! Just that , father-in-law HE ES ar to sleep in an agony of dismay and mortification, , “1 shant think of settin’ up,” said the bride, rising from the table with an apologetic giggle, and with the last dessert held aloft, ‘I'm too wore out. If anybody calls—of course, everybody will eall-—just tell "em I'll see 'em to- morrow. Come on, dear,” And she tripped upstairs, with a juvenile mod over her shoulder, and with her beaming young husband fol- lowing. Mrs, Beely wrung her hands despair- ingly. “But this! said faintly. How shall we endure it?” worn daring the last two hours, *I if ever he enters my house again—" table threateningly. “Bat that will not help matters,” said his wife miserably, “He is ruined; we are disgraced, and everybody will kuow i” There was a silence. Mrs, Seely, beginning to sob, “as a then, when I did not doubt that it was such a one he had chosen, I thought myself the most unhappy cieature in the world, because—becanse she had no wealth and an old name, is a judgement upon us, Oh, was there | ever so dreadful a thing?” “Probably not,” said her husband | grimly, It was a solemn group which waited oouple. | on every Iace—in troubled brows, swol- len lids and pale cheeks—and a general gloom prevailed, | place, watching the door with a stern face, He was master 1a his own house | at least, and he was determined that it wife for another hour, { comes, pava,” sald Kitty, | “"Dreadinl!” Margery echoed with a | groan. | There were footsteps on the stairs, | the girls caught their breath, The door opened, The waiting group looked up slowly Would she not be still more terrible | smpering horror?” disclosed; it was not a painted, pow dered semblance of a woman who came cast eyes, “It was a slender, sweet-faced young girl, with shining brown hair crowning | which the color came and went, and soit dark eyes, which studied the car. pet in preity timidity; with dainty.slip- | pered feet, and a lace-trimuaed wrapper, fitting snugly to a perfect form. * (Good morning,” she said gently, Harvey foilowed her closely, “Well, Dora,” he said, looking from one to another of his speechless rela- tives quizzically, “they don't seem in- | clined to speak to you,” But Margery had come towards ber ' hastily, and seized both her soft hands in her own, “Waa it you all the time?” she oried joyiuily. *“*And the grey hair was false, | and the wrinkles were pu , snd all that dreadful powder? Ob, Harvey, how could you?” “I begged bim not to,” said | protits bride, raising her dark tawoelly, *'I told him that | eruel; and such a time as I had, saying { all those shocking things be had taught me, and keeping my wig straight, and trying not fo lsugh! Will you ever forgive na?” ‘Forgive you! Oh, my dear girl!” eried Mra. Seely incoherently, the eyes 4 joy, and embraced her daughter-ia. IAW daily. “It was rather rough,” said Harvey | gaily. *‘L felt like a villain when I saw | the way you all took it, it “couldn't be worse,’ | just demonstrate to you that it conid. Dora is nineteen instead of forty; she effort; and I can heartily recommend ree for a willing and obliging, good- | tempered and thoroughly capable girl | =the sweetest in the world, in faol” Mr. Seely left the fireplace and came | snd ciasped his daughter-in-law in his | arms, with a beaming faca, and Kitty | kissad her effusively, | “It was a dreadful lesson,” said Mrs, Seely, looking np with a tearful smile; | “but I am afraid we needed it—my son,” The beauty of morocco leather may be quite restored by varnishing with the white of an egg. Strong oarbolic seid is a powerful poison when externally applied, A man recently, while carrying a nd of it in a bottle in his pocket, othe ginss, acid rau over the surface of one leg. He experienced little pain, but 4 within two hours of the acci. dent. The acid paralyzed his nerves, Recent experiments of Dr. Roscoe on Cape diamonds have a scientific inter. says Engineering, in fon ihn pg Pb ng amas, eminent nod opted by in 1840, he burned Cape diamonds in and round that they by drogen. They include, however, some traces of a non-combustible ash. Apart from this the to be Saved by a Day to be Norah Glennie. At the time the clock struck 10 I should ba Norah Ma pleson—a wife, a trues w.fe to a true husband, [I re-arranee roy dress with feveri<h haste, 1 only stop to drink a cup of milk ere I leave the house, just in time 10 catch the train as it passes our stat lon. Once more my hands arn clasped in his, We say no word, only hurry through the sleepy streets ‘ll we enter the dingy office, where, by ome strange method, we are made man and wife, All i8 a dream to me. | ington farm. How coul The only thing that secs real to me 18 the shining ring on my finger, “Don’t be so distressed, my darling ! { Don’t look so or I cannot bear it.” { my hand a little wildly, 1 suppose, for the direction of Once more we are | streets back again the railway station. in the train, | “Mine—mine forever! { the future now!” is all my husband | says, but there is a world of love in h.s eyes, oor William! will be on the ocean, and we will in have I get out of the train alone, as he 18 | going on some busfhess two stations | further on, then he will come back | the rest of the week to the farm. new wedding-rnng glitters, $ "it $s “I cannot!” 1 cry, shuddering. i3 unlucky to remove a wedding ring. “But, my darling, his sharp eyes will gee his face looking at me from the win- dow alarmed and auxious, but | assuringly and he smiles. ¥y i for every- reason of 1 y n near 4d this morn | thing lately is 80 upset by { uncle's iliness and Will | pariure. About myring. I must hide it; but { I canzot take it off. 1 hurry ny room and hurnedly turn over tents an old musty dressing t had been my father's, Where can 37 That old garnet ring, with the | queer undergroove in it, that I feel sure will let this thin wedding ring into it, | and 50 keep my secret from prying eyes. ngers 1 find would 11¥ 4 Yur i Oug 80 eany ny, 1y on AIAS Gy ARG 4 te of WB Of {| Ah! with hot, trembling fi | it; it does exactly as I thought it do. With that broad old | on 1 need fear no discovery. During the day my old uncle is taken i much worse, and he will Jet cone near hun but me, Willlam comes in and out of the room, but 1 am tied i to it all the day, till toward evening un- cle falls into a deep sleep and I can safe- ly leave him with his nurse, It was a i rambling old houses, Norlington Farm, { ly seven years, all of which time Wil- liam Mapleson bad lived as my uncle's steward and helper under the roof. It had been a hand, self-denying life "wr f never hard me--he would Till latterly the ot his love for ave borne it, id man had never discovered and when he had there was more peace for us under uis roof He had raged and stormed, declared that no niece of his should marry William Ma- pieson. on pain of disinheritance, I had been weak and helpless, alone | in the world, not very strong in health, | when he came to my fathers funeral, and after paving all expenses had simp- i iy said: “Now go and pack up your Kit. You must come with me to Norlington Farm. Can't say, Pmsure, what old Betty will say, but t as | see, to be done, girl, tis not a lady’s life 1 am offering you; but I suppose you are not too fine a lady to know what work means?’ If I had been then, all was corrected { by now. During these seven years | have worked hard and lived hard. Yet there are those who say old Peter Glen. nie is worth haif a million of money. My golden week of happiness is gone, but although William 1s gone 1 am stiangely content. i 1do not regret the step I have taken. | Since the momiag afler my marnage nog ne ment, together with the hired nurse. | “He's a wiserable old man,” she said “1 suppose it 1s 194 Jenkins had been called into his i 3 to me that same day. | seems to have against marriage. He | growls continually in lis sleep about fools getting married.” He had called her at this moment, and 1 was left alone to overhear a con- versation between oid Jenkins and Betty, who, being both deaf, were talk- ing over the same matter in the Kitch- en. “Ah, well, Betty, it's a hard day for the farm when William goes away; an’ how'll the old master do wi’ a new steward at his toime o’ life 1 wonder?” “He knows what he's about, never ou fear. Deo'ee think for a moment as ow he don’t know a-letting him go is the on'y way o’ preventin’ a marriage between he and Miss Norah? Hal ha! hal’! As I hear her cunning old laugh at my expense 1 sit hugging my love to my heart. Old Betty always owed me a grudge for coming to Norlington, although she had been compelled to show me ordina- ry aivility. How little she knew we were mars ried only yesterday, under her nose, as it were, So far I have deoeiv- And now William was gone. The ship had sailed and I was alone, but happier far than if I had denied his prayer, Since the day after my marriage, when Mr, Baines had been with my uncle, Le had been more quiet, but strangely anx- All through the week 1 had not been once out of the house, Of this he seem - ed to take full care by keeping me near him by every pretense he could think of, The ship had sailed only one week on the day of the lone.y funeral came the reading of the old miser’s will. I came down with my wedding-ring It was no- Mrs. Baines looked The doctor, who attend- at once, well he might, knowing that it meant Old Detty’s eyes had a in then as she said: “Perhaps you You “We didn’t care to think of “I should have sailed with id iy him | master,” At that moment I could not say ““my And 80,” she said, **you have gone I cannot describe the insolent sneer {| with which she hissed the words, “I made h will the 27th of this month, my dear lady, decreeing it so, When were vou married?” “On the 26th, Mr, Baines.” The old gentleman stared alime, then rapidly read the short will half a million of money if i after that date-—so it was worded, I was married the day before, ee ———— ——_ What Is he Soudan? The name bears different meanings, is used by the Arabs Egyptians The former fia nterior of the to des or { appl by y it inte io the geographers of Europe have given | this pame to all the countries along the soothern edge of the great Ba i , Irom Benegambia apd Sierra Leone on the west, to Darfur oo the east, Etymologically, B« simply “‘the D zoks,” and is a corrup- tion the Arabic name Balad us | Sudan, *‘the country of the Biacks”™ As employed, however, by the Eypt fans, ‘the Soudan” means not the immense tract of Africa just described, but a tract to the east of it, which comprises the countries, except Abyss iufs, on both sides of the of the second cataract, which have during the last #ix'y years been formed into an Egyptian province bearing that name The dependent province or empire-for, it under stood, the Soudan 1s not Egypt any more than Algeria 13 France—ocom- prises much of Nubia, all of Seuusar, all Kordofan and all Darfur, A report recently made to the Brit ish foreign office gave ils length from | porth to south, or from Assouan to the equator, st about 1650 miles, but this makes it begin at the first and | pot at the second cataract of the Nile; its width, on the same authority, from Massowah, on the Red Besa, to the western limit of the Darfur provinee, is from 1200 to 1400 miles. It proba- bly. therefore, does not fall far short, if at all, of the dimensions of India, It is inhabited by two totally distiaet moes, The northern half by almost pure Arabs, most of them nomad tribes, professing some form of Mobam- the southern half by negroes, who, though officially classed among Mussulmans, are really pagaus, and are, roughly speaking, all sedexn- | tary and agricultural, Soudan was divided pelly kingdoms and chieftaincies; Bra dan JODAGAan F Oi be immto a number of but his son Ismail to econ- From that time to the present the Egyptian have gone on extendmg the borders of their pominal sovereignty, but have never yet managed to obtain an undisturbed footing in any part of the vast territory | they claim. The seat of the proviseial | government is at Kbartoum, at the confluence Nile. Khartoum oan from which Khedive, sent quer the couniry. | Caire, it way stopping short at Assiout, less | than 300 miles from Cairo—but the | garded as the sesport of the Soudan, | and thence by a caravan route of about 2580 miles to Berber, where the Nile 1s touched, and from that point south- ward for about the same distance to Khartoum. A — So—— Quaint Ancient Customs In London. Recently, alter morning service in the Great, West Smithfield, an ancient bequest was carried out under the su. pervision of the rector and the church wardens, by whom twen!y-one new six. peuces were placed on a tombstone in the old churchyard, and were picked up by an equal number of poor widows belonging to the parsh, This quaint custom has been meiuiained for a pe riod long anterior to the Protestant been preserved, although the name of the benefactor has been lost. Audthit aneiei Gusto Sas Josstved at All ows arch, Lombard street, where, in accordance with the will of Peter 8 which dates so far back TR Pomwmonous Pleats, No country is betler supplied with | medical as well as poisonous herbsthan i India, Along waysides and ditches | harmless looking plants flourish abun i dantly, yet possessing sowe strange and i some the most deadly qualities, It is | one of the mysteries of creation how side by side with plants and cereals the most valuable and necessary to life, na- ture has also scattered abmndantly | plants so deadly; as if along with an | element of good there must also be one of evil, One of the most common plants by ditch side or cactus hedge is the datoora, with its large white flower and leaves resembling the holyhock, and now well known as a valuable medicine for asthma, for which its leaves are used in the shape of cigars or “‘to- bacco.” The seeds, on the other hand | are asubtle and powerfnl poison, in small quantities cause temporary insanity in large, either permanent injury t brain or death. By an accident | came aware of the peculiar propertie | of the datoora. A robbery occurred | {4 neighboring village, and an alarm spread that bad been effected | through the agency of datoora poison- | ing by an organized gang of robber poi- | sopers, It seems the gaag had put up | at the village the night before in guise of travelers, and getling on friendly terms with the wealthiest famiies there, whom | they entertained to a feast of sweet. | meats—the only eatables in which the | different castes may join. As night ad- | vanced, the family allowed them to put { up ip their veranda; and when the vil- lage was sunk in sleep, the effects of the poisoned swealmeals gradually | placed the house and all it contained at | the mercy of the robbers. Next morn. ing when the hue and cry arose in the village, and native iuspeclors, tannak { dars and constables had arrived iar and near to ny gale the cas and turn to what profit they couls opportunity—_ihey eight iving heipi S011 ' i | | i i this the in one of ning susprcion ol ds was conbirmed, could be found, in ial ralds made by Lhe levy of blackmail on those who afford to “pay” escape suspicion. The family gi ally recovered to find themselves almost penniless, the time they had been der the poisoning being a blank them, 0 ft hha 1 3 i police, and the coud 4 WAY alia un- to a Our Foreign torn Population, The percents of ichabitants of foreign birth in 1 } was 9.68; in 1860, 13.16; in 1870, 14 44 in 188), 13.32. The foreign populetion reaches ifs max. imum where the general population is densest, slong latitude 40 and 41 and iongitade 73 and 74 Sine 1550 the proportion of lrish in every 10,000 for- eigners has fallen from 4.280 to 2,776 The Germans have gained proportion. tionately, New York stands first in aggregate foreign population, and also first in Irish, German ana Eoglish population, Penpsylanis stands second in aggregate foreign population, Illinois third, and Musssachusetis fourth. The increase in Ubhnuese popuistion bas not been what might have been expected, In 1850 the Chinese population was 758; in 1860, 38,000; in 1870, €3,000; in 1880, 105,000, The division of foreign-born inhabi- tants as regards occupstion is interest- izg. Iu agriculture 298 Germans en- gage for every 146 Irwsh; in personal and professional services, as servants, the proportion stands 218 Germans to 115 Irish. There are few Germans who are textile operatives, bul many Irish and more British-Americans, Three times as many Irish as Germans engage in domestic service, althoug there are wore Germans than Irish in the conn- try. The total population gtands 6 na- tive to 1 foreign: The criminal proportion stands: For- own, 13,000; colored, 17,0008; native, 30,000, The pumerical relation of those born abroad and their emidren here is as follows: Born abroad, 6,550, | 679; having one or both parents foreign, 14 922. 744. In 1870 there were born abroad, 5,667,220; having one or both { parents foreign, 10,802.0056. In each | nationality there are more children having a foreign father than a foreign mother, due to the larger number of | male immigrants, et A ss on oy Clear Beaded, The Count de Montgeas, long attach- ed to the Austrian Legation in London, says that the Duke of Edinbuigh is a clear-headed, sagacious and careful man of business, His fortune is not proportionate to his Pach, and his de- mands on it are great, ence the ne- ! cessity for thrift. This has laid hum open to the charge of parsimony; but he is simply wise. There is no real nig- gardliness about him, as those can at- test who have visited him at his house or cruised in has ship. The Marlin (Tex.) Index reports a | newly discovered food for horses in { Falls Qounty, In the Brasos bottom grows a , in height fifteen or twen feet. that is said to be almost as nutri- | tions as corn, It is called the “*blood- weed,” from the fact that when broken there fn juice that 1s almost as red as blood. Many farmers feed their work stock but onoe a day with scorn,
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers