In beautiful ringlets her dark auburn bair,
Fell over a neck than marble more fair;
Ah? yes it was!
The luxurious bloom of her roseate mouth
Was finer than nectarines, raised in the
South;
I guess it was!
Or jet, they were.
The radiant glances her lovers beguile;
And crowds of them, wooing, were seek-
ing her smile;
I'll bet they were!
1 told of my love,and I begged her to speak,
And one glowing kiss I pressed on her
cheek;
She fainted.
The color had fled from a circular spot;
I thought it was nature; alas! it was not;
She painted.
REIT
ar —
LOVE AMID THE SMOKE WREATHS.
It was a rarely beantiful May morn-
ing; a poem in bine and green and gold,
who were singing gleefully iu the tops
of the green old trees at
Secarcely a breath of air was stirring,
and the merry chant of the mating
songsters mingling with the sabdued
and melaucholy hum of the distant
city, instead of soothing my wounded
feelings, fell on my ear with a saddening
and irritating effect.
shadowy years between then and now,
it seems the greatest piece of folly
nonder the sun. It was only a lover's
mad despair,
ferent—1t was everything!
tions: and I, jealous and exacting,
brooded over it, until I came to believe
myself the most injured,
wronged aod suffering man in existence.
— Alma Meredith was far
wealthy; but she was fair and sweet,
and 1 loved her, oh, heavens!
loved her!
night and day at my profession.
then but a sti”
daily press, snaiol what available
time I could for the study of law,
Perhaps I lived too mueh in the
I was
ing
striving to embody my dreams in some
supreme effort which would bring me
the fame and fortune that I courted.
Alma was young and beautiful, and
care-free, loving to mingle with her
gay companions. She was a great
svorite: no merry-making was complete
without her; she was the life of her
circle of friends, while I kept to myself
as much as possible, buried among wy
books and papers, at all times,
It was my custom, daring the beauti-
ful spring mornings, to take long walks
throngk the suburbs of the city, and I
geuerally manage on these occasions to
pass the pretty house of Miss Meradith,
at Oakland,
There was to be an excursion up the
Allegheny and Alma urged and begged
me to accompany her; but I was greatly
ocoupied by my work and persistently
declined.
“Then 1 will go with Fred Archer,’
she said, half poutingly, *‘bui, oh
Dave, I think you might come! It will
do vou good to get away from those
musty old books and papers for a few
hours!”
“You must not go with Archer!” I
returned, dictatorially. *‘I desire you
to give up that idea, Alma, I do not
like Fred Archer, and you know it! He
is a flirt—and-—"
“And you expect me to remain at
home, just to gratify au uoreasonabie
whim of yours?” she demanded spirit-
edly.
“1 think you ougbt not to go, unless
iI can sccompany you!” I returned,
“gince you have no brother or anyone
to take my place!”
“And yet—you refuse to accompany
me!" she cried. her blue eyes flashing
indignantly, a red spot burning like a
tiny fire on either cheek. ‘‘Dave, you
are not only unreasonahie but you are
downright selfish!”
Perhaps 1f was my accusing con-
science that stung me to retort, with a
show of anger, though I knew I was
wrong.
+Neolfish or not, Alma, it is my desire
that you remain st home in preference
to allowing Fraud Archer to accompany
you!”
She wheeled about suddenly, facing
me with flashing, angry eyes:
“1 have found out your true nature
in good time, Dave Carlton!” she
wanted; ‘I see now how jealous,” ex-
soting, selfish, tyranmecal you can be,
and I release you from your engage-
ment to me,”
nght. Poor little Alma!
She drew the pretty diamond soli-
feet; I stepped forward, set my boot
heel upon it, and ground it nto the
olay beneath my weight, suppressing
the oath that gurgied in my throat,
“Good-bye!” she eried, angrily, and
was gone,
It scemed to me an ebullition of
temper, in very bad taste, at the time;
now, I can y say 1 deserved it all,
and more,
I turned on my heel and strode back
to the city through the odoriferous pre-
cinots of Soho. The dark, murky pall
of rolling smoke clouds rising up before
me and hanging overhead, seemed to
have a new, portentous relationshi
that I had nevet before experien
which added to my sombre raminations,
Wall, she went to the excursion;
even drove down Fifth avenne past my
window, at Fred Archer's side, in the
etty pony phmion. She looked a
ttle pale, I imagined, (peeping sur.
reptitiously at her through my closed
blinds.) but, all the same, she was
eharmiog fo her pretty white costume,
with a broad-brimmed, white-plumed
hat, resting on her golden ourls; her
saucy, piquant face peeping forth like a
flower. hoard afterward bow she
flirted that and the know!
os A An of Hote ons
I met Grace
ls, an heiress,
oat
deal, and before 1 was aware of it 1 was
paying her marked attention. Well,
why shouldn't I? Alma had ceased to
love me. I might as well marry the
spint, of which, in my sane moments 1
felt heartily ashamed, T devoted myself
to Miss Jerome, and ere many months
I met Alma occasionally, She had |
a way of glancing to my face that
troubled me; very pitiful was the look
which the sweet blue eyes gave me;
then immediately she would avert her
head with the coldest of salutations,
She continued to be very gay and ap-
parently happy—the life of every as-
semblage—a reigning queen; singing
and sharing the honors with Miss Je-
rome, my beautiful Grace.
Strange that I knew no more the
rapture that had ever been mine when
Alma and I had belonged to each other!
ambition; I was |
of my
beauty. I did not really love her; I
was only actuated by pique and I loved |
She came to my side one evening at
Mrs, Harrington's reception—lovely |
little Alma!
“Dave,” she said softly for the first
hear you are betrothed to Miss Jerome,
My heart grew numb and coid, then
“It is true,” I answered.
She grew very pale,
“I congratulate you,” she said sim- |
ply; and ere I could utter another word
was waltzing with Fred Archer. My
**She does not care,” I muttered un- |
der my breath; ‘she has no thought for
any man but that fop.”
I sought my lady love that very even- |
ing to urge a speedy marriage, Some-
thing told me it was best over with as
soon as possible, Sbe listened gra.
ciousty, and ere we parted, a day—our
wedding day—was appointed,
We were married. The wedding was
quite a grand affair; and as soon as it
was over, and my fetlers securely on, 1
would have given five years of my life
more, Dat it was too
late. I was bound by all the ties of
honor; shut away from Alma Meredith
forever. I bad chosen my own course,
and must abide by it,
We sailed for Earope, my stately
Grace and I, and there we remained
for several months, Life had grown
to be very dull and insipid to me. I
was unhappy and sad. snd my heart
yearned for my lost one in the Smoky
City. The cloud that had risen before
me on that beanteous morning in Oak-
land had gathered in density; the rays |
of love and joy that had lighted my life
before were stifled in its dark fmpene-
trable folds, and, as I felt the blighting
shadow hang heavy on my soul, 1
realized that I still loved Alma with ali
my heart,
We came home at last, and on the
evening of our arrival we went to the
Opera House to see Jefferson in “Rip
Van Winkle,” My wife and I occupied
a box on the right, and I was proud of
the admiring eyes aud the number of
glasses leveled in her direction. How
regal she looxed in her rich dress of
amber violet, with diamouds glittering
jike stars on o frosty might; a cold
smile lit up her proud, handsome face,
her beanty was siatuesqne,
Suddenly I turned my eyes to the
ovposite stage box, uttering a low cry
of surprise avd delight, for Alma Mere-
dith was sitting iu the box with a party
of gay friends, as in times past, among i
whom I recognized Mrs, Chatterton,
For a
time I sas stariog (I could not help it)
at the sweet, dainty face bLefore me.
Very pale was Alma, there was some-
thing in her beauty which made me
think of heaven, even there in the midst
of that gay assembly—the low, soft
added to my speli-bound enchantment
as I gazed on that lovely form once
more. She was dressed all in white—
some soft, flowing material-——and a
white cloak was draped gracefully about |
her figure;her sunny hair fell in a mass
of wavy brightness over her shoulders, |
and she wore a knot of violets in her |
corsage. Isat drinkiog in the exquisite
beanty of the pale, sweet face until I|
could keep silent no longer. Exousing |
myself to the party in our box, [ arose
aud made my way straight to the one
opposite occupied by Mrs, Chatterton
My greeting was perhaps a little un- |
I seized Mrs, Chatter. |
ton’s hand unceremoniously, and panted |
hastily.
“Where is Alma? She was here at
your side a moment ago, but the instant
I appeared she vanished, Tell me,
Mrs. Chatterton, does Alma hate me so
bitierly that she will not receive me as
a friend?”
Mrs. Chatterton’s face grew as pale
as death. as she gazed in astonishraent
on my excited features and yearning
ayes full of unshed tears.
“My dear boy!” she said sadly, *‘do
yon not know--have you not heard?
Aus; dons; sweet little Alma is—dead!
She died nearly a month ago.”
. - - - - *
When I came to my senses alter that
from
The smoke wreaths that roll from the
flery furnaces on every hand can add
no ‘more gloom" to the withered heart,
whose rivalets of love are dried up by
the smouldering furnace of remorse;
nor ean the black elouds of despair ef-
face the violet eyes that keep beckon.
ing me from the darkness, while a soft
low voice seems whispering:
“ie path of sorrow, and thal alone,
Leads to the land where sorrow is unknown,”
SPETEA,
EE
Oriental Detectives,
The Orientals are good detectives,
Some of their measures for ferreting
out a criminal are as singular and ef-
fective as any ever devised by a mem-
ber of the Russian secret police. An
Agha, or chief magistrate of the Cairo
police, once found out a ‘“‘confidence’
woman by a device worthy of that He-
brew king who discovered the mother
The story, which
“Arabian Nights,” is thus related in
Lane's “Modern Egyptians:
Agha. “Sir,” said he, “there came to
ment), and let it remain in your posses.
dred pilasters ($25,00.)
“1 took it from her, sir, and gave her
away. When she was gone
kurs;’ and I looked at it, and benold, it
there i8 no on
tell thee, man. Take whatever
and when thou hast opened thy shop,
Then
take in thy hands two clods,
property of others!
matter with thee?’ do thou answer,
“The property of others is lost a pledge
that I had, belonging to a woman, 18
lost; if it were my own, 1 should not
thus lament it.’
affair.”
As he went about the city, beating
himself with two clods and lamenting
that he had lost a pledge belonging toa
woman. she who had given him the
kurs heard him. Discovering that he
was the man she had cheated, she said
“Go and bring an action
against him!"
She went to his shop, riding on an
ass to give herself consequence, and
said to him, **Man, give me my proper-
tv that is in thy possession.”
He answered, “It is
tongue be cut out!’ she cried: “‘dost
thou lose my property? I will go to the
Agha and inform him of it.”
she went and told her case. The
Agha sent for the man, and when he
had come sald to his accuser, ‘What is
thy property in his possession?’
to herself
Ls Fe
lost,
tian gold.”
“Woman,” said the Agha, “I
gold Eure here: I should like to show it
thee.” and he untied a handkerchief,
and taking out of it the kurs which she
had given in pledge, said **Look!"’
She looked at it and hung down her
head.
“Raise thy head,” said
“and say, where are the
plasters of this man?"
“Sir, they are in my houses,
swersd,
The money was found and given te
the man, and the woman was ordered
to be beheaded.
corn A AAI
the Agha,
five hundred
”"
she an
sutro‘s Student Library.
Adolph Satro has been quietly at
plans which will place him, in the his-
tory of public benefactors in Califoruia.
This man intends to establish
public library and to erect a handsome
building, and when all is completed <0
use,
broks in the Cooper Institute,
be a library after the fashion of those
in the German university towns, such
as Gottingen, Heidelberg and Leipsic,
students and scholars. It is the aim of
such institutions to have on their
shelves every work, ancient and mo-
dern. on the leading subjects in science,
philosophy or literature.
ion of making a beginning, The 60,
000 volumes now arranged on the third
floor of 107 Battery street is the result
and China, and later, while in India,
Mr. Sutro bought Oriental works of
great value, Whenever he found a
manuscript or an old coin that threw
light upon the history of religion or
philosophy of the East he bought it and
bad it shipped to this port. He rin-
sacked Egypt, Jerusalem and Greece
for old and rare works. When he war-
rived in Western Europe he employed
agents to buy books in Madrid, Lon-
don, Berlin, Munich, Vienna, Leipsic
and Gottingen. His collection of works
purchased in Western Europe consists
of three kinds, which mark thgee pe-
riods of book-making.
First are the old manuserip®, 24, the
incunabula, or books published before
the fifteenth century, and third, the
books issued from the press since that
time. Mr. Sutro’s idea was to collect
At the Seashore,
“But how can I help feeling neg-
lected and miserable Ned?
near. You walk with her, you sing
with her, you drive with her, you dance
with her, and it, makes me very
wretched.”
“Now, Mollie, if you're going to be
jealous’
“I'm not jealous, Ned. If I thought
you didn’t care most for me I don’t
think I'd remonstrate with you at all,
I would just take off this,” touching
the diamond on her hand, *‘and hand
1t back to you.”
“My little pet, you do not see things
as I see them. One owes something to
society, especially when one is at the
If you would only remember
that I love you too well to find fault
with anything you can do, and if you
would become a little more of a society
character yourself, I would be perfectly
happy. Now, dear, kiss me, I am to
drive on the beach with Miss Lovel
“Not jealous, Ned, and
Dos
kiss he asked for.
the pretty, straight figure going
from the nook in which he fou
the waves were rolling,
and presently caught up with his
her blonde head, was looking very beau-
at the beach.
“Where now, Tremaine?”
called out.
you later; and Ned had gone by.
Mr. Stone smiled a little and spoke a
to Mollie, She colored
and half an hour later, when Ned and
Miss Lovel met the pretty, light car-
took his daily dnive, they received a
pleasant nod from pretity Mollie, wi
' 20
though she was thoroughly enjoying his
society.
half in surprisé; “‘and she has evidently
{ound the society of Stone anything but
coring."
“What a handsome
couple they
gleam in her steady gray eyes. Ned
colored suddenly;
why.
**Perhaps you
Ames is my promised wife,” be said, a
trifle coldly.
“Oh, but s0 many engagements are
broken in a summer at the seaside; one
never minds that very much,”
guid belle said, indifferently.
That night’ there was a hop at the
hotel. and Ned bad made up his mind
to be a little more attentive to Mollie;
but to his surprise he didn’t find her
ander ber mother’s wing as had Leen
the lan-
A number of her old friends had
sides, Lee Stone was quite pronoun ved
in his attentions to her, and while she
dis.
tance he found it quite difficuil to get
near her: then a light tap on his arm
informed him that Miss Lovel was ask-
as Mollie and Stone were ciurclidg by,
with Miss Lovel.
“A rather pronounced firtation,”
Lee laughed later, when he and Mollie
moonlight on the sea strand, and oue
Both knew who they were,
Ned Tremaine place that pale punk
Level, as he led her across the terrace,
too much engrossed in his task, it would
seem, to notice Mollie or Ler compan-
“Oh, everybody flirts more or jess at
do, you know,” Moilie answered. ‘Lee
face,
spoke to her,
“It is a cowardly pastime for a man,"
he said;
eruel one,’
“And you--is it plessaht to know
that you agg cruel of cowardly?’ she
#eYho 18 said to count his conquests
Am 1 too plain?
“I forgive you freely—as 1 would
I may seem a tnfler, but
as hers, no presence half so dear.”
“Do we all wrong you, then?" she
asked, gently, “Have you failed in
your wooing? Can you not win where
you love?”
His face flushed a little at her words,
and she, watching it, was struck by his
strength and beauty. How did It
chance that she had never noticed either
before?
“I am not left the chance to woo or
win her.” he said slowly; ‘‘she is
another's promised wife.”
“Ah, she said, pityingly, and she
gave him her hand in a sweet, womanly
sympathy, never for an instant connect.
ing his words with herself, He hfted
small hand reverently to his lips
and, drawing it through his
the beach. As he did so he
it:
t
E
5
ff
om
looked up and found her eyes filled with
tears, And now, in her own room, she
was asking herself how it was that
purpose of annoying Ned, had, in one
brief week, slain all her old resentment
against Miss Lovel, and made her
Tremaine, who was her affianced hus-
band, but to Lee Stone, who was termed
the greatest male flirt at the beach
What was changing in her life?
A servant broke her ponderings by
bringing her a note from Lee, asking
her to go for a drive with him by moon-
light, and a few angry lines from Ned,
asking it she remembered that she was
betrothed to him while she allowed
her flirtation with Lee Stone.
**I have been patient, waiting an op
portunity of speaking to you,” he
wrote, *‘but you will not give me one,
80 | write to ask if you wish our engage-
Sue trembled a little as she read, and
but she
went to her desk, drew from iL every
letter he had ever sent her, formed them
and his ring In a package, and
him the following note:
“It was I who was [rst
patience, while my exislence was
gotten for one who was what you bade
me become—‘a society character.” Why
an in-
terview with me of late? It not 80
long since you could not spare a moment
from Miss TLovel. Do I wish
our engagement broken? Perhaps we
both wish it, Ned; at least let us break
it since I so displease you, Isend you
your letters and ring.”
taught
i=
note to Lee:
“I will be pleased to go with you.”
that he told her of his love, and that
she listened silently, believing, with a
strange that when they drove back,
sobbing ocean,
AIA ———————
Will Power Cures.
has much to do with the cures that
‘he late Isaac
inder President Buchanan, and pre-
will power,
and ran away. He was thrown out and
dragged along the street. Two or three
of his ribs were broken, and he was
bruised all over and injured internally.
Surgeons from the city were sent out
Apparently his injuries
fatal. But **No,” he whispered, “1
shall recover.” He did recover, and
tits will power carried him through. A
physician of Hartford, Conn., not now
were
10%.
that he once had a peculiar case. An
elderly lady was remarkably nervous
her heart, lungs and
liver were all disordered. Yet he found
them sound. She had no organic dis-
ease except nervousness, and that was
enough. *‘I can cure you,”
physician, “1 understand the case, He
medicine in them,
of
will be dangerous,
But by following my directions precise-
ly you will be entirely well when ali the
in him, and she got well, as he had pre-
dicted. Wasn't this a “faith cure?”
It certainly was not the dough rolled
much to do with one’s health, or ili-
health, if the imagination runs that
Way.
——— I ——
Growth of Our Post Offiee,
In the year 1792 there were only 264
post offices in the United States, and so
light were the duties of Postmaster
General regarded that President Wash-
in the Cabinet. Now there are H0,-
000,000. Ninety years ago the Depart.
ment looked with unconcealed disfavor
on the project of admitting newspapers
to the mails, and not until the intro.
entirely relax. Nowadays hundreds of
transported daily. When Thomas Jef
ferson and Timothy Pickering endea-
vored to expedite the service between
New York and Washington s0 as to at
tain a speed of 100 miles in 24 hours,
rights pretension which semporasily de-
feated the enterprise, for New Jersey
insisted on exacting her °° e and
tavern’ tax of $400 from the Federal
mail coaches. The world bas moved a
great deal since the beginning of the
century.
Booksellers,
in Germany it is the custom for book-
fH
Hi
g
:
i
Wiowers of History.
———
Beyle, who was with the French army
during the whole of the Russian cam-
paign of 1812, ridicules the notion of
speeches on battlefields, and declares
that he once saws French colonel lead
s gallant charge with a piece of ribaldry,
adding, that it suswered the purpose
perfectly well, It is certain that most
of those reported by historians were
pever made at all, The Duke of Wel
lington did not say, *‘Up guards and
at them 1” at Waterloo ; be never took
refuge 1n & square, and his ** What will
they say in England if we are beaten?”
was addressed to some officers of his
staff, not to a shattered regiment. The
general, relates that, in the batlie of
| the Niyelle (November, 1813,) the duke
| in his (the subaltern’s) hearing : *‘ You
must keep your ground, my lads, for
there is nothing behind you,”
| Follow my white plume,” the tradi-
| tional rallying ery of Heury IV. is
| quite consistent with Brantome’s des-
| eription of him st Coutras, ** With long
| and great plumes.”
Voltaire makes Conde throw his baton
| of command over the enemy's palisades
| at Fribourg. Other accounts say ** his
| marshal’s baton,” He was nol a mar
| shal ; he did not earry a baton; and
| what he threw was his cane, A fine
| trait is told of Douglass, who on his
| way to the Holy Land witn Bruce's
| heart, took part with the Spaniards
| against the Moors, and lost his life in a
| skirmish :
| “When he found the enemy pross
| thickly round him, he took from his
| neck the Bruce's heart, and speaking 0
{it as he would have done to the king
| had he been alive, he said : ¢ Pass first
| in fight as thou wert wont to do, and
Douglass will follow thes or die,” He
then threw the king's heart among the
enemy, and, rushing forward to the
| place where it fell, was sian. His body
| was found lying above the eilver case,
For more thas a century the suthen-
| ticity of the pithy dialogue between the
| spokesmen of the French and English
guards at Fontenoy was generally al
| lowed. Lord Charles Hay, bat in hand,
| steps forward and says with a bow,
» Gentlemen of the French guards,
fire.” AL 4&'Auteroche advances fo
| meet him, and saluting bim with the
| sword, says, ‘* Monsieur we never fire
| first, do you fire,” Unfortunately for
| this story, a letter (first brought to light
by Mr, Carlyle) from Lord Charles Hay
| to his brother, Lord Tweeddale, writ-
ten or dictated less than three weeks af-
ter the battle, has been preserved, 10
which he says: *‘1t was our regiment
that attacked the Freneh Guards, and
when we came within twenty or thirty
| paces of them, I advanced before our
regiment, drank to them, and told them
we were the English Guards, and hoped
they would stand still until we came up
to them, and pot swim the Scheld a8
they did the Mayn st Dettengin. Upon
which I immediately turned about to
our own regiment, speeched them, and
made them huzzah—I hope with a will,
| An officer (d'Auteroche) came out of the
| ranks, and tried to make his men huz~
| gah ; however, there were not above
| three or four in their brigade that
| did.” This certainly puts a different
compléxion upon the matter, by oon.
verting a chivalrons mitercourse of
courtesy into * chaff.”
Lord Macauley tells an anecdote of
Michael Godfrey, the deputy governor
of the Bank of England, who was stand-
ing near King William and under fire at
the siege of Namur. *‘Mr, Godfrey,”
said William, * you ought not 0 run
these hazards ; you are not a soldier ;
| you can be of no use to us bere,”
| “Kir.” answered Godfery, “‘1run no
| more hazard than Your Majesty,” “Not
80.” said William ; “I am where 1t is
my duty to be, and I may without pre-
sumption commit my life to God's keep-
ing; but you—-" While they were
talking a cannon ball from the ramparts
laid Godfrey dead at the king's feet.
Napoleon stated at Si, Kelena that
Desaix fell dead at Marengo without a
word. Thiers makes kim say to Bou-
det, his chief of division: * Hide my
death, for it might dishearten the
| troops,” —the dying order of the Con-
stable Bourbon at the taking of Rome,
The speech ordivarily given to Desaix,
| and inseribed on his monument, is con-
fessedly a fiction, What passed between
him and Napoleon, when they first met
upon the field, has been differently re-
jated. One version is that Desaix ex-
claimed, * The pattie is lost ;" and that
Napoleon replied, * No, it is won ; ade
vance directly.” Thatof M. Thiers is
that a circle was hastily formed round
| the two generals, and a council of war
beld, in which the majority were for
retreating. The First Consul was not
| of this opinion, and earnestly pressed
Desaix for his, who then, looking at his
wateh, said : ** Yes, the battle is lost ;
but it is only three o'clock ; there is
| time enough time to gain ome.” For
| this again a parallel may be found. The
| Baron de Sirot, who commanded the
French reserve at Roeroy, was told that
the battle was lost. ** No, nc!” he ex
| claimed, “it is not lost ; for Sirol and
| his companions have not yet fought,”
| Desaix, it will be remembered, bad
| turned back without waiting for orders
| on hearing the firing; and M, Thiers
thinks that if Grouchy had done the
same at Wateriop, the current of the
| world’s history might have been revers-
ed. Hels welcome to think so; but
the Hero of a Hundred Fights thought
differently. A drawn battle and a short
respite were the very utmost Grouch
timely arrival could have gained for
Imperial master.
Cattle Men,
In Humboldt county, Cal., the cattle