- q mn ARBUTUS, If spring has maids of honor— And why should not the spring, With all her dainty service, Have thought of some such thing” If spring has maids of honor, Arbutus leads the train; A lovelier, a fairer The spring would seek in vain. For sweet and subtle fragrance, For pink, and pink and white, For utmost grace and motion, Of vines and vines’ delight. For joy of love and lovers, For joy of young and old, No blossom like arbutus In all that Springsimes hold, The noble maids of honor, Who earthly queens obey, And courtly service render, 3y weary night and day, Among their royal duties, Bouquets of blossoms bring Each evening to the banquet, And hand them to the King. if the spring has maids of honor, And a king that 1s not seen, His choicest springtime favor Is arbutus from his queen. LEAT IR POOR SNOWDROP, “Never did I know anything so ridic- glous in my life!” exclaimed Murs, Spence, angrily. ‘The idea of asking a little chit like Nella to a ball because Lord Wilton happened to meet her in a grain.” “Nella was eighteen last Monday, so I suppose she is old enough,” said Elizabeth, the eldest daughter; “bus I really think she must have behaved yery improperly, or Lord Wilton never would have spoken to her.” “Of course rhe sountess makes such a point of it, I am afraid we must let her go.” ©] can tell you what, mamma, will be the best plan,” and Clara looked up sagurly. “Dress her as if she were a child in the school-room, and then no- body will notice herat all. A few yards of white tulle over a muslin skirt won't cost very much, and it needn't have body.” This was nareed to, and soon after luncheon Rirs Spence and her daugh- the two ball dresses which had been ordered long ago from the best dress- maker, and to purchase the simple materials for the one that was to be made at home, Eleanor Lestrange was an orphan niece, who had been received into the houseliold much against the will or her two cousins, She had two hundred a year of her own, and a lovely face, so she might be considered a dangerous rival by the girls, But there was no thought of nvalry in her gentle breast as she strolled down the shrubbery and across the paddock into the cool woods of Wilton Hall, Her eyes were full of tears, for her cousins had been very rude to her about that little episode In the train a month ago, when Lord Wilton, the eldest son of the Earl and countess of Canterbury, had come to her assistance, and saved her from the lmpertineuce of a fellow traveler. She sat down at the foot of a gnarled oak, from which there was a lovely view through the branches of the trees, and resting her head on her hand, fell ito the saddest thoughts possible for youth, No one wanted her in her new home. Mrs, Spence did not understand ber; the girls were jealous of her. Even a JEopes dress for the countess’s ball had n denied her, and she would go it looking like a country dowdy. Oh, if her own idolized father, Col Lestrange, were only alive, or she lay at rest at hus side in the quiet el yard at Beverly! “Miss Lestrange!” The soft, rich voice startled her from her melancholy dreams, and she looked up to see Lord Wilton standing before ber with his fishing rod in his hand, “How glad 1 am I came this way!” throwing down his encumbrance and seating himself on the grass at her feet, “Do you know that 1 have done nothing but think of you from morning till right,” looking ap into her fair face with his bold, bine eyes, “Then you have waisted your time shockingly,” trying to appear at her ease, “Don’t you deserve it more than the dogs or horses?” **No, I'm not half so useful.” “Nor half so nice,” 1 presume. But what is the matter? Youve been ory. ing?” “It was nothing,” growing crimson, “only —" “Ouly what?" creeping up closer to ber side. ‘‘Have they been bullying ou?” * would have liked to bully them, “No.” “What then?” They are not going fo prevent you from coming to our dance?” “No, I'm coming; bat—" her lips trembling. “I am going to have such a horrible dress.” “Come in the one you've got on,” looking down at her pink cambrie, and you'll cut out all the rest. Mind, the first dance is for me,” “I shail look such a fright that 1 tering at something in his eyes. “Then 1 shall come and drag you out. But what's the matter with the dress? It isn't , is 12” **No, white; but oh, so terribly sim- plel Just like a child's.” “And so much the better,” with a look of relief, “You will look like a sweet littla snowdrop a them all, He bout over her, AT her band in kis, raised it to his tawny mus. tache, Sbe suatched it from him, snd sprang to Ler feet like a startled fawn, a vivid enmson dying her cheeks with a suddon glow. “Nella?” he cried, jumping up ae quickly as his Jong legs would let him; but sho was gone, and only a distant flutter of piuk could be seen through the trees, Lord Canterbury’s grooms. I am sure there's some take about it, but you must open it, as it is add to you,” With eager fingers Nella undid the fastenings, raised the lid, and removed | lavers of cotton wool aud silver paper, | Then a ory of delight burst from her lips. An exquisite bouquet of white | flowers lay inside, with a lovely wreath, | to he pinned on the shoulder and hang f down to the skirt. Lord Wilton's card, | “with his compliments,” was pluned on | to the first, “Oh, auns, isn’t it beautiful?” ex- { olsmmed Nella, eostatioally, but Murs, Spence walked ont of the room with a | thunder-cloud on her brow. At dinner it seemed as if a storm was heart was brimming over with joy. He j had thought of her among all his fine | friends, | dress without trimming. | | over; “*‘come into the drawing-room.” {| Nella followed in a fright. Mrs, | Spence had not been particularly kind {as to prevent her going to the | Her heart nearly stopped beating at the | thought, “I have been thinking the | over,” said Mig, Spence gravely, «s she | seated herself on the sofa, that it will | be better for you not to wear those | flowers to-night,” “No; we consider that you must have behaved in a forward and uniadylike | manner to induce Lord Wilton { such a liberty as to send them! We i do not blame him, but we blame you, | because. of course, a man will always { hum.” her foot, “Yes, my dear Eleanor, youn did, He | taken such a liberty with them. Now i ance,” *I don’t care, I wont go to the ball {at all.” “Nonsense, child, yon must, Go up stairs to your room and compose your- (self, and I'll send out into the garden for a rose,” ’ | obedience ended, for she threw herself tears, knocked at her door and asked if she might have the bouquet, as 1t would go 80 wall with her dress, “Good gracious, Nell, the carriage will be round in half an hour,” she cried in dismay, as she went out of the room with the flowers in her hand. As soon as she was gone, Nella got | reno lowed you to send them,” her bosom heaving as she thought of her wrongs. “Bat I never oy you,” **No; but-—she thought—I—" hesitat- ing and orimsom, ‘She didn't blamo you.” “I see, she thought you had been flirting,” bis eyes twinkling. *‘Did you tell her that it didn't matter one brass farthing if you had?” “No” “Nella; do yon love me?” No an swer, “Do you know that I can’t get along without my little snowdrop, Do you know that I shall shoot myself if you won't be my little wife? Nella, look st me!” One shy fluttering glance, when the fluttering heart seemed to shine out of the g owing eyes, and then her head dropped on his shoulder snd his mns- “Eleanor!” The roses were swept aside by a hasty hand, and Clara Spence stood traps- fixed by the sight before her, of being in the least absshed, Lord come in time, i i A Coffins of Many Colors, While riding with a triend through a town 1n Lincoln county, Maine, not long KgO We came different colors, The front locked as though the occupant of the shop, when- ever he wished to test a newly mized color, dipped his brush in it and then wiped the brush on | Cologne, arranged ber sunny hair with the utmost care, and scrambled into her dress with the housemaid’s help. Then she tossed aside the red rose which ber aunt had sent her, and detaching =» lovely white bud and spray of lilies from the wreath, pinned them on her shoulder, Mrs, Spence noticed the change when si'e came down stairs, but thought it best to make no remark, lest another , burst of tears might be the ocouse- quence, The two sisters looked gorgeous, but nothuog could make them look pretty; while Nella, in her simple dress out them out completely. Her heart beat very {ast ns they were warshaled through the spacious hall into the bnlliantly lighted room where Lady Canterbury was standing to re- ceive her guests, Toe couutsss gave her a pleasant smile and a hearty shake of {be hand, then Neibe slipped behind her cousins, casting a shy glance around, She had before, aud the flash of jewels on every side seemed to dszzlo her, Mr. Uppleton, a tall curate, came up and talked to Elizabeth, Mr, Madway, a young barrister, asked Clara after her brother, but no one noticed Nella, Presently there was a movement in the throug, aud a pair of broad shoal- ders crowned by « handsome face, came ia sight, As Lord Wilton shook hands with the Bpences, the band struck up and, with a certain bowed low to a certain little form in the background, and said with a smile: “This is our dance, Miss Lestrange,” The curate started; Mr. Midway put up his eye-glass, while the sisters grow pale with jealonsy: “Where are my flowers?” said Lord Wilton, as he led his partner into the ball-room, “Here!” der. “Only thosel But where are the rest? Why did you give them away?” *I didn't.” “Do you mean to say they took | them?” the fierce fire returning to his looking down at her shoul- the outside “What?” “Yes. Nearly all the people in this past ten years have been buried in col- ored coffine. Light blue 1s the favorite prevailing shade for old people. Yon see this is one of the most retired vil. lages in the State, and he 1s the only The and wow they rather like the painted cofline, One old fellow got disgusted and took a solemn oath that this under taker should never make a coffin for him, was yet in this land of the living and The homes, He triod his best to i)duce his wife {0 have ber coflinfmade, too, She sald it was ridicuious-- the idea of hav- ing your coffin made before you were dead!l-—and plumply refused to be meas- ured. This made the old man so mad and he and the old Iady had many a jar after that, although they had pre- viously lived in peace and content, The old man fpat his coffin in the barn, and used it to keep his yellow-eyed beans in, In the course of time he died and was prepared for the grave, The yellow.eyed beans were turned out of the collin and an endeavor was made to put the old gentleman into it, They found that his body after all was so large that it conld not be squeezed into tue coffin, They had to patronize that isting botween him and fhe late la- mented. They tried to get him swap one of his coffins for the old gen- tleman’s Augusta purchase, bat tuis the undertaker positively refused to do, and the coffin, A —— Daniel Webster, Webster, as told by the late Col, Mun- never been published, Cot, State House one day when a distin. a young lady, came in, and asked if they cottld see the legislative chambers, Col, Munford at once recognized, from por- traats that he had seen, the face of Webster, and wishing to see as much of & sccompany him through the Htate trembled. : “Never mind,” he said, more gently, “they can't take you from me,’ Then he put his arm around her waist and they floated together sround the | room, the lights reflected in countless | mirsors, the sweetest music in their ears | and a delicious happiness stealing from | heart to heart, To Nella it was like a | delightful dream, from which she would | be sure to wake in another minute, When the ha dance was over, | Lord Wilton introduced her to his cousin, the Duke of Portsmonih, a very | taire as big as a sixpence, | Toward the end of the evening, Clara came up to her mothe: and asked her : young lady, turning to Lim, exclaimed: “Now, everybody says you are a great : 3 | time to {30 oma, “Oot m know where she | “With Lord Wilton again,” lowering her voice. Isn't it atrocious?” Mrs. Spence shook her head and “You eried before you came to-night,’ said Lord Wilton, softly, as they sat together under the drooping branches of a yellow rose in the conservatory, wt deny it, I saw i in your ayes, ne because they aw flowers?” uy. my “Partly,” her lashes drooping on her “Why did take them?” “hut ‘said T" oughta %o have al any preparation. I want you to prove it.” As she said this she moved to the 7ostrum and took possession of the president's char, “The House will please come to order. The gentleman from Massachu- setts has the floor.” “Webster,” said Colonel Munford, re- lating the incident, '*took, as if by in- stinct, the most favorable position in the room, so that his voice could best be heard, and for ten or fifteen minutes Druggist’s Mistakes, ‘‘Are druggists’ mistakes of frequent ocenrrenee?” a physician was asked by a revarter, “No; they are noi nearly so frequent 8 oue not Lo the profession would sup- pose.” *"Are there no means by which they i ik could bo made preventable?” “1 don’t know whut could be done more than has been. Yon see, it is human to err. Take the most careful man in existence, 1 care not what busi- ness he is in, and he will slip up some time. How often do men who are { thoroughly conversant with their trade | or profession make mistakes? A man gets proficient in hus business, and this | very proficieney makes him ofttimes go | about it mechanically, and the first { thing he knows he makes a mistake, it is a small one or is detected in time to prevent serious injury or loss the men grits his teeth, gives himself a | mental kicking, and is more careful for { awhile, but soon he is back in the old mechanical rut.” “What means do druggists employ to | prevent these errors?” ‘Every first-class drug store is ar. | ranged like eloek work, The different | poisons are either placed ig separate | compartments, put in a peculiar style { of bottle, or the botties which contain | them have an odd label, something the moment he uses it, Then, again, the clerk who puts up an order for a | medicine of that character is under spe- cial instructions to register it in a book { kept for the purpose. What other means can be gotten up to prevent a mistake creepingfin I don’t know.” “Do not many errors arise from the miserable chirography of physicians?” { *No, for the simple reason that if a | druggist can’t make out what a physi- | cian means he will quietly send word to structions, telling the customer it will | take twenty or thirty minutes to put 1t up.” ‘As a rule, what is the general char- acter of physicians’ handwriting?” “My brethren in the profession will bear me out in saying that it is the | most miserable that can be msgined, Sach scrawls as are sometimes sent out i would tax the logenuity of an expert to decipher, Many asolemn conclave have | I witnessed in drug stores over the pre. scriptions written by one of the most emi- nent physicians of this city. He will start a word all right, but ir it is over four letters long ‘the conclusion will run off into unintelligible hen tracks; and it is true of many others, Bad writing is as the proverbial slowness of tailors and shoemakers,"” es A =A Lafayetle 1n America, France hasshown its good will to the United States on several occasions, the Bartholdi statue being but a trifling episode thereof; but it is a curious fact of some interest, and not generally known-—a fact I have ¥ ately and accidentally come across myself-—that Americans in Par's, especially several New Yorkers in Paris many years ago, showed their appreciation of France's fnendship by getting up in short metre a subscription fund, which, and which alone, enabled General Lafayette to pay his celebrated second visit to this coun- try and this city, where he was received with such honors, in brief, Geperal Lafayeile was so poor in ns old age that if it hadn't been for the generosity of New Yorkers he wounldn® have been able to visit America at all. This | the generally received idea that the oid man | was well fixed, which idea owes Its ori- gin to the fact that the old Frenchman owned some lands in Louisiana, This is true, but il is also true that these | lands had only a prospective and nota real and present value. They proved of some sdvantage to Lalayetie’s heirs, but were almost worthless to him, or cost fully as much to hold as they were worth. When be was liberated from his long political imprisonment at Olmutz, he hadn't a dollar in the world, and owned onl # arity $ 8 CONT ALS | Loulsiaua lands, his good record, his friend Baring, the | banker, lent him about $35,000, to be i ropaid al his convenience, A few years | later Lafayette had spent the money, | baat {some jof the louisiana land to his { benefactor, Baring being a business | man accepted the offer, bat being also a | at a fancy price, taking them at about eleven dollars an acre, or about thres auyBody would have given. Lafayette at once accepted Baring's proposition, and wiped out the amount of his pecuniary obligation to Baring by transferring to him less than oue fourth of the land. Itcan't be that Lafayette was aware of what a purely friendly and generous spint had aclua- ted Baring in this transaction, or he wouldn't have taken the advantage of it he did. For pretty soon an English. Paris and opened negotiations to buy some of his remaining Louisiana lands, Lafayette immediately told him what Baring had paid for his share of the lands, and proposed to let Coghill have what land he wanted on precisely the same terms, Coghill, not knowing of Baring’s special friendship, thought, of course, that he was perfectly safe in paying for lands exactly what such a smart business man as Baring had paid for them, and nceordingly at once made out his check for a large sum of wonoy on that basis, Just three times too much for the Lou- isiana lands. Then there was a circus, ol a friendly transac tion showed that Jake it up by offering Coghill more But Coghill didn’t want any more of the land at any price, Then Lafayette tried to get the balance of the money due in honor to Coghill from Baring, by selling Daring some more of the lands, But Baring by this time had got enough of the lands himself, and shut down. Finally Lafayette tied up the lands by making them over to his heirs, they are not to be sold till a certain time, when they would probably be worth some- thing to somebody, Well, Lafayette was thus high and dry financially when the United States Congress sent him an invitation to come over Ito America. The gratitude and honor pleaased Lafayette immensely. | He was crazy to accept the invitation {and come over, but he had no ready { money to take with him and besides | the old fellow was heavily in debt In { Paris and he was bound in honor to pay { his debts before he left, Here was rather an odd fix, A great nation was waiting to welcome a great man, who | wanted greatly to be welcomed, but the great man couldn’t get over to the great | nation for the lack of a small sum of | money, At this juncturd of his affairs, {the United States, pamed Vincent Nolte, a New Yorker then in Paris, a { particular friend of his, and laid the case before him, The two bad several talks together, and the more they talked the less prac- tical result seemed likely to result from | the talking. his mind there was only one thing to do, he also made up his mind that he wouldn’t say a word about it to Lafay- ette till it was done. He must get up a { subscription fund for Lafayette among James F. then in Paris, and he did so. Brown, Jacob Gerhard Knock, J. took hold of Nolte’s idea vigorously, and quite a sum of money was raised in j less than a week, which was handed over to Lafayelte, who received it as | but an additional token of the esteem { in which he was held by Americans, | apd looked upon it as but one more of | thy numerous ties that bound him to | the great American public, i for him to his house, where he treated two English adie to whomjhe had taken a great friendship, Fanny Wright and her sister, who did the honors, Then, two weeks later, Lafayette, his son and his secretary salied from Havre in the Cadmus to New York, A A nN Sergeait Molile Fricher, The bas relief for the monument cele- brating the famous battle of Monmonth Lias been east in Justice Yowers’ found- ry. The most noted of the four reliefs is that of Sergeant Molly Pitcher, Waguoer's command. ean foroes retreated from Fort Clinton and the vnemy was scaling the ramparts ber husband dropped his match aad fled. Molly caught it up, fired the and also fled, the battle of Monmouth, on July piece A 28 75, she brought water to her hus. band and his companions from a sping near by. A shot killed her husband, and the officer in charge having no one piece to be withdrawn. Mollié beard the order as sho was coming from the spring, dropped her bucket, seized the ranuser and worked the cannon till the Sghit ended. ’ Un tne following morning, General (Gireen presented her, still covered with dirt and blood, to Washington, who at once gave Leora commission as Sergeant. | She waa placed for life upon the list of haif pay oflicers, and soon after the bat- | tie left the army, | Meuigomery, on the Hudson, venerable widow of General Hamilton, Lossing adds, ‘told me she had often seen Captain Molly, She wae a stont, #193. | woman, with a handscme, pisrcing eve The French officers, charmad by her bravery, made ler many presents, lines, with her cocked La, snl get it almost filled with crewan,’ 25 at the timo of the parle, {ing by Oolonel Casts, Washington's i of the sceue, I'he reliof represents Sergeact Molly | Pitcher as a beasti'nl youug woman, { She stands berefoowol and bareheaded | in front of a catnon, rammiog a charge home. Her dead husband lies at her | ivet, The ponderons wheels of the gun, ; with old-laahioned iron bands holding the joints of the felloes, are well brought out. A bare-headed gunner stands close by, ball in hand, Opposite another unner thumbs the vent, holding the bucket stands in place. An enemy's ball ploughs the grassy field. A batvery flag sticks in the sod, with the old Free- hold meeting house in the background, Artillery-men approach beneath its steeple. In the foroground General Knox rides away, flourishing his sword, EE Ladies’ Club. A ladies’ club, patterned upon the Union, is soon to be organized in New York city, Its membership will becom- posed of the most prominent women in society of the metropolis, Tho names of Mrs. Rivers, Mra. Willinn Asior, Mrs, John Jacob Astor and Mrs, Adrian Iselin have ilready been supested for idant, and the Misses Hewett and alas May bury will almost certainly be among the goveccotses, It good with. cua’ eaying that ro men are to be ad. mitted to the club; either as ricmbers or visitors. The servants are all to be women, A) tho stewardess will be a person onK expenence as.a house keeper. As might La expected, many of the hasbands of present and pros. pective members do uot favor the new olab, Several who do not happen to ba clab members tu particular frown severely upoa it, and say thay do not seo w wives husbands have not done so, not come,” eh i Parade Day in Mexico, The eelbbration of the of the repulse of the French, st the storm« ing of Puebla in 1872, by Gen. Loren ces, occurred not long ago, Two re- views took place, one on the plein of Ban Lazaro, outside of the city, and | another in the city. At the shooting { school there was a sort of tribune erected on the roof, from which the president’s wile, the ministers’ families, ete, had a good look at the review, As it occupied little over an hour, many who went a long distance to see it were disappointed and the booths for refresh ments made a scanty harvest, In each review marched sbout 15,000 men. The uniforms are simple, of dark bine cloth, relieved in the line regi ments with gilt buttons and scariet stripes on sleeves and trousers. A cloth “kept” is covered with white ootton stuft, from which hangs a *“‘havelock” of the same when in ““latigue dress,” The police also wear the **havelock.” The cavalry have silyer buttons and galloon, and black braided jackets are added for the artillery, Their appear- ance was good, aud many of the regi- ments marched well, The corps of cadets made a brilliant | show, and they do credit to the military ! sechool of Chapultepec. But the most | brilliant of all were the *‘rurales,” the | policemen of the rural districts, as their | name indicates, It is a treat to the | eyes to see them galloping slong in | their high and richly embroidered Mexican saddles, on their flery horses. | The jacket and breeches are of buff | leather, and the hat a wide-brimmad | light felt *‘sombrero,” with silver braid {on rim and silver cord and tassels; the { boots are afso of buff leather, like the saddle and stirrups; a crimson sash is | worn around the waist and the long | erimson serape hang in tight and nar row folds behind ou each side of the | saddle, The officers hafs and jackets | are the same, but covered with embroid- | ery of solid siiver, Their black eyes, | ruddy, dark complexions and jetty | beards form a striking contrast to this | picturesque snd brilliant dress. Their | rifles hang at the right side, and in all | respects the display was a fine one, Koocxing out Burgilars, ‘“*Any of your detectives got on to that new mob of burglars yet?” he seked, as he centered the office of the Chef of Police of Detroit, “Well, no arrests have made,” “And there won't be. The chaps have got enough, 1 reckon, and if they haven't left town by this time I'm a sinner,” “What do you know about burglars?” “See that?” he queried, as he held out a hand with every knuckle skinned, “1 don't wait for burglars to come up and burgle me; I try to get in the first blow, Last night I took a little walk | around snd met a burglar.” | **How do you know?” “Well, I asked his name and busi ness, and he told me to go to Sheol With that I popped him, and you ought to have sees him get and fly! In Ladf an hour 1 wet another.” “How did you identify him?” | “1 took him by the coliar and told | him that his jig was up, and his confu- sion gave Lim away. With thas 1 pop- ped him, and you ought to have seen | him take the grass! The third one I met at about 11 o'clock.” “What! Apother?” “You bet! He was walking along as softly ss you please, and I dodges in on him and says I: “Spotted, old fellow, and you're my meat!” “He yells for the police, but I'm up to all these dodges. With that I pop- ped him, and I left ham crawling around on the grass. Say, I want to be a de teotive.” He was told that the matter would be considered; and within the next | hour three eminent citizens, having an eminent black eye, called at the office | and each story began with | “As I was about fo enter my gate iast night a desperate scoundrel rushéd | upon me and dealt mea stunning blow.” yet been ae I Hn —— —————— Mexican Feather Work. While in Mexico I tried hard to find out how ¢hey made the lovely birds on | cards which they offered for sile on the streets. A freind took me to the house { of one of these artists, It was a little { hovel, where he sat on the mud floor | and tolled. Dut when he heard uscom- ing he put away all his work and would not let us see it. Ie was an | Indian, with browns skin and black, | straight hair. He wore ragged clothes and had an old blanket to keep him | warm at night. Poor as he was, no | money would tempt him to show us the | secret process he had learned from his | father, which had been kept in the family for hundreds of years. Great skill 18 required to produce a perfect picture, First, the Indian traces on the card the outlines of the body of the | bird in wax, just enough for the feathers to stick te. Then he begins at the lower part and places them one at a time, one row lapping over other as a slater lays slates. He works Foor slowly and patiently, Perhaps this | the secret of hus perfect work, and the reason that no ", Jeopls fave been able to equal him, result is a bird that looks as thoughit might sing or fly. The eyes are le with an lass bo TIChly thet thes, apes to Do mt of 80 that they appear the bird. Then he paints a branch for it to rest on, or from a feather, and bis work is Do that which is assigned you cannot hope 100 much or much, Bev ; A Now Yon man went into a crowded onr, and asked if be could have the seat
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers