GROWING OLD TOGETHER. ———————— Do you know Iam thinking to-morrow We shall pass, on our journey through One more of the milestones that bring us Still nearer the goal, good wife? The glad anniversary morning Of our wedding-day cometh once more, And its evening will find us still waiting, Who had thought to have gone long before. We are old, wife, I know by the furrows Timo Jas plowed in your brow, once 80 r; I know by the crown of bright silver He has left in your once raven halr; I know by the frost on the flowers That brightened our life at its dawn; I know by the graves in the churchyard, Where we counted our dead yestermorn, Your way has been humble and toll-worn; Your guest has been trouble, good wife— Part sunshine, more trials and sorrows, Have made up your record through 1ife. But may the thought cheer you, my dear one, Your patience and sweet clinging love Have made for me here such a heaven— I have asked, ‘‘Is there brighter above?’ In life's winter, sweet wife, we are living; But its storms all unheeded will fall. What care we who have love and each other— Who have Jove each to each all in all? Hand in hand we await the night coming; Giving thanks, down the valley we go; — For to love and grow old together 1s the highest bliss mortals can know. Bome children are still left to bless us, And lighten our hearts day by day; In hope is not always fruition— We will strive to keep on the right way. ‘We have sowed and have reaped; but the harvest That garners the world we awalt, And haply at last we may enter Together the beautiful gate. ESR SE er —— —————————— SUSIE'S DIPLOMACY. «If I had been born poor, instead of vich, I firmly believe my life would have been much happier,” said Richard Maur with a sigh. Richard was sitting with a friend on a bench overlooking the sea, He would have beem a remarkably hand- some fellow, were it not for the discon- tented expression, which always clouded his face, On the other hand, his companion, Arthur Renmore, was a plain looking man with nothing to redeem his want of comliness but a bright pair of eyes, and s winning smile. At first sight, women were struck by Richard's appearance; but alter a time they gradually began to feel a prefer- | ence for Arthur, because he talked | amusingly, and made himself so agree- | able, To tell the truth, Richard was too i proud and reserved—a fault for which his parents had been to blame, for he | had been a gpoiled child. | “Do you really believe what you say, i or do you only make that assertion to | startle one?” asked Renmore in answer | to his friend’s remark. : “I really believe that if I had been i born to poverty 1 should be far happier | than | am now,” returned Richard, gravely. “Then I'll show you a way out of your trouble,” said Renmore with his _ cheerful lsugh. “Hand over all your | wealth to me, retaining only a pound a week for yourself, I fancy I should get on comfortably with the gold you despise, not to speak of being able to | marry Susie.” “Your offer to relieve me of my wealth is extremely kind and consider- | ate,” said Richard, unable to repress a smile, ‘1 admire the sacrafice you are willing to make for me; bat on con- | sideration 1 find I cannot do without | the money. If I had been acenstomed | to poverty it wonld have a different matter, but having been reared in lux- ury, 1 cannot resign my gold, even if it : and me to destruction. The laxury 1 pave spoken of is necessary to my ex- | {sience,” “f thought you would draw in your horns, old boy, when I made the pro- al. Lake most Englishmen, you deadly love to grumble.” +] have something togrumble about, 1 fansy,” said Richard. +] don't see it; you ought to be the happiest fellow in the three kingdoms.” “Oaght 1?” “Deadedly. “Just let me know why?” “Youswish me to answer you frankly, | and won’) take offense if I give you my real opinign?”’ “Speak mn. I promise I wou't take offense at suything you say, 1 should like to see myself as others see me.” “Well, in the first place you are 100 | proud, and think yourself superior to | everybody. You fancy yoursell ill- | treated becsuse the world doesn’t value you as you value yourself, To tell the truth, your conceit stands in your way, Richard.” ” Richard Maur, coloring with anger. “You have utterly misunderstood my character. I am shy and diffident—" “Shy and diffident!” cried Benmore, interrupting bim. “You are nothing of the kin Your sole reason for re- maining silent is that yon would rather refrain from making an agreeable re- mark than be led to deliver a foolish one. Now I rattle away, saying the first t that comes into my head, and yet 1 am gonerally regarded as a very pleasant companion, ” “That is what puzzles me,” returned Richird. *‘You say nothing very wiso or witty, and Jot you always manage to interest every " “Because I try to please others and forget the existence of - Arthur Ren- more,” said his friend. “Bat, jol apart, old fellow, what is amiss wi you this morning?” Richard taore heavily than before, digging holes with his cane in tho sand. he said, “how oan a man ever believe in the dis attentions of a woman?” without money has the satisfaction of knowing that he is loved for himself alone,” “Bah!” cried his friend contempta. ously. **You either do not love the girl or you are a bigger fool than I take you for, Strange how people who have no troubles will go out of the way to make them. Well, I am off to get some luncheon; are you coming?” No, Rionard would stay where he was, He felt rather giad tobe let alone with his thoughts. Young, rich snd handsome, he was as utterly miserable as any mortal with such advantages could be, His money seemed to stand between him and hap- piness, and yet he would not have parted with it for any consideration. He prized it so much that he feared it ht have the same value in the eyes of the girl he loved, What if it induced her to give him her hand without her heart, [dith Palmer was comparatively poor, and he kiew she loved pleasure, She had often told him as much, and complained of the dullness of her life. He remembered how her cheeks had flushed and her eyes sparkled with ex- citement when he had spoken of the gay world of fashion, or described the different places he had seen. “No, 1 will not ask her to be my wife,” he told himself with intense bit. ternese. *‘My money is too great a temptation for any woman to resist, She would accept my offer if she didn't love me, and I should discoyer it after- ward, and be wrethed for life, I will leave S——as soon as possible and try to forget her.” He had risen now and turned his back upon the sea, and some children who were playing on the sand gazed after him in surprise, wondering what made that big man look so cross, He certainly had anything but an agreeable expression on bis face as he walked along nibbling the ends of his long moustache. «Hello, Mr, Maur,” said somebody at his elbow, in a clear, young voice, “Oh, is 1t you, Jack?” returned Rioh- ard. “Where are you off to now?” Jack was Edith Palmers brother, and Richard had shown him many ist heart. “Come up to the house and see Joe, will you? Father says he does not like the looks of him. Do come; there is nobod v at home; Edith has gone to see Susie Brown,” “All right, I'll coms,” returned Rich- ard, relieved and yet disappointed that he would not see Jack's sister, near the sea, and Jack dragged Richard into a small back parlor, communicat- doors, look for Joe.” search of his retriever before Richard could utter a word of remonstance. the shabby chairs and relapsed into thoaght. The more he saw of the pov- erty of the Falmers, the strenger grew his conviction that his money must have an influence on Edith. Presently he began 10 grow impatient about to go in search of him when, to his dismay, some one entered the nex! room, and the next moment he heard the sound of voices. “I am so glad I persuaded you to me,” —it was Edith Palmer who spoke—*‘I should have felt so dull all by myself.” «f am very glad I came,” said Sasie, for he instantly recognized the voice as “What on earth is the matter You are not the girl heart, with you, deat? you were,” “There is nothing the matler with burst into tears, «Don’t ery,” said Susie, wiping away the bright drops with her own littie lace handkerchief, “I do believe you have some secret you are keeping from me. Have you seen Mr, Maur lately?” she added, abruptly. “Do you think 1 am erying about Mr. Maur?" asked Edith, coloring with anger, «1 don't know, I am sure,” returned Sasie, “I could ery if 1 was in your ylace. The man ought to propose alter all the attention he used to pay you, “Husie!” “Don’t look so cross,” cried her friend. take up your time believe he was serious, ed you, Iwill say what I think~—there! He is a mean thing, and I should like to tell him so to his face.” Now it happened that Miss Susie was happening to Jift her eyes she saw Mr. Richard peering in upon them, She was & very quick witted young lady, and did not regret at all the allu- sions she had made to them. As she sat looking into the mirror a plot was being formed in that yonthful little head of hers, with its soft golden curls. Her own engagement was such a happy one, in spite of its length, for she had been engaged eight years, and had to wait two more before Arthur would be in a position to marry, that she longed for her friend to experience the same Perhaps a few judicious words might bring the laggard in love to the point, She hoped ed very affectionately at the back of ber friend’s head. She felt strongly inclined to indulge in a fit of laughter, but she resisted the fmpulse, feeling that it would spoil all, he resolu averted her eyes from Richard's Sos after satisfying herself that he was waiting y to hear what else they had to say, and do love him. “You haVe discovered my secret snd I know that you will not betray it. I would die with shame if be knew I had given my love unasked.” “Bat, Edith, he loves youn,” amd Susie, coloring at her friend's words, for she could see the delight in Rich- ard’s eyes as he listened to Edith's avowal, “He loves me!” cried Edith, almost contemptuonsly. “Why, Basle, he might marry anybody with his wealth and position”. “Bother his wealth!” cried Busie, “You don’t love him {or his wealth?” “Heaven knows I don’t!” said Edith. “If he were to loose all his money it would make no difference to me.” “My darling!” And Richard pushed open the folding doors and caught Edith in his arme while Susie discreetly retired to the next room and took up a book, leaving the ardent lover to make his own excuse for playing eavesdropper. “Oh, Mr. Maur,” cried Jack, dashing into the room, ‘Why, where is he, Susie? I left him here just now.” “He is engaged,” said Busie, de- murely, “Why, what's the matter Jack?” The boy walked over to the window and stood with his hands in his pocket, whistling; but there was a sufpicious moisture in his bright eyes, and Busie anxiously repeated the question. “Father has had Joe shot,” he said. “He was sullen and fidgety; but I know Mr. Maur would have put him right if he had seen him. Poor old Joel” “Don's grieve, Jack,” said Busie, put- ting her hand on his arm, “You've lost your dog, bub you've found =a brother-in-law,” “What!” cried Jack, ‘is it true? Where are they? Let me go to them.” And he dashed unceremoniously into the next room, his loss forgotten for the moment in delight at the unex- pected news, Snsie smiled and sighed as she fol- lowed him into the presence of the happy lovers, Bat her own happiness was not so far off as she thought, for, Arthur coming into an unexpected legacy, insisted that | it should be a double wedding, and in | and Richard. | “To think that all my happiness is {owing to those folding doors,” said | Richard to his friend. | “And Susie's diplomacy,” | Arthur, “What?” asked Richard inquiringly. | “Nothing,” returned Arthur, “We | are two lucky fellows, old boy!” ‘Indeed we are,” said Richard. And up to the present time neither of | them has had csuse to alter his opin- | fon: muttered ¥ —— A IA At the Yilaiz Kiosk. There are probably few more charm- spots in the world than the one ’ | Ing residence. As soon as Abdul Hamid succeeded his brother he determined to | turn Lis back once and for all on the melancholy magnificence of Dolma | Baghche, aud build him a house altar his own heart on the picturesque heights of Yildiz. From the upper | windows, or, better still, from the ter- race roof of his dwelling, the sultan ean i gaze at his pleasure on the snow-00v- eredjerest of Mount Olympus, the bright bine waters of the Bosphorus, the hazy outline of Prinkipo snd her sister isl ands on the coast of Asia, and on the domes and minarets of Stamboul, while throngh the rich foliage of his park be ever-busy Golden Horn, and the villas and streets of Peru. | out-buildings, its stables, and its mili- tary camp, Yildiz hill, and the grounds and gardens which surrounded it slope gently down- ward almost to the seashore below, lofty wall incloses both palace and park, and the paiaful glare of the agreeably relieved by the presence of a juxurisnt growth of ivy and creepers, while the tops of the date palms and flowering trees wave over it in the re- Chronometers, “1 noticed the other day,” remarked an old salt water sailor, ‘that you bad something in the paper about chronom- eters, Now, I happen to bave had some experience in the use of chronom- eters, People see them in the jeweler’s window. compare their watches and pass, Few stop to think of the rela~ tions they hold to life and property on the ocean. Time was when ships were guided to different parts of the world without them, but at a frightful sacri- fice of time, and often of ship, cargo and crew. Then the only means they had of determining their longitude was by dead reckoning, and that was a very poor thing to depend on. The old way was to get into the latitude of the port sailed for and then steer east or west as the case demanded. But the chronom- eter has done away with all that. Now a captain can leave a port and shape his course to any part of the globe, and know his true position, in clear weath- er, every day. There are Lwo gentle- men, whose fathers sailed from the shores of Massachusetts bay, around Cape Horn and Cape of ( rood Hope without chronometers, but there are very few that would undertake it now. Some Captains own their chrongmeters, some hire them, others belong to the ship. Some carry two, and if the cap- tain carries his wife with him she has good cause to be jealous of the care and attention that her hushand gives to the chronometer. She is only second in his thought on shipboard. 1 have known a captain to take the pillow from under his wife’s head to set the chronometer on during a heavy sea, I have often taken the chronometer out of its outer box and set it on pillows, when we were handling heavy cargo, to save it from any sudden jar. All captains have a certain time to wind their chronome- ters, generally at 8 bells in the morn- ing. The captain's wife, as a general thing, dare not look at it, and she feels toward it accordingly. But there are exceptions to this rule. There are some captain’s wives that are first-class navigators. For instance, some years ago the American ship Ne Plus Ultra, Capt. Plummer, left Liverpool for Bom. bay. He had his wife and family with him. After a few days he was taken with a paralytic shock. His wife pavi- gated the ship successfully to her desti- | nation, buried two | sage, and lost her husband three days | after reaching port. She and her only boy came home in the ship that 1 was | in. She looked fully as noble as she had proved herself to be, | have to be very careful with their chro- | nometers, keyhole, and works with a string, so | no dust can possibly get into the works. | Every chronometer catries her record | with her, { of the box in which she sets. | cover is where the rates are kept from the maker's hands, | find all ber rates | age she is taken to the chronometer for years on the same rate. Now, ifa chronometer gains one-tenth of a second | to-day and loses one-tenth Lo Morrow, | which is a very small item, she is no use | for the purpose for which she was in- | tended, but she would be just the thing | for a jeweler’s window, But if, on the | other hand she gained two hours every | 24 hours, or lost the same, and kept ! doing so, | chronometer. This seems strange, but § Nb matter what she gains or loses as long as she keeps on doing the same thing she is all that you want, Some will say,’why are they Bat when it taken into consideration what porpor- There are 15 degrees to the i 3 : | i nes, After | at the arsenal you pass the deserted | sourts of Dolma Baghehe, and the | prison palace of the ex-Saltan Murad, and then turn abruptly to the face of { the bill From this point the road winds first to the right and then to the left till you arrive somewhat unexpectedly be- fore the great gate of curiousiy-wrought jron-work, through which you peep at a pleasant picture of marble fountains and bright flowers and foliage beyond. | The adjoining guard-house is full of | suldiers; officers and aid-de-camps in brilliant uniforms are walking to snd fro; a military band is playing a stirring Turkish sir, and all seems neatness and animetion, There is no mgn of the | traditions! decay of the Turkish empire here. The artillery which is popularly supposed to protect the portals of Yildiz is wanting, It is, together with the bomb-proof in which thesultan is said to take his daily drive, the happ. ereation of some newspaper correspond. ent in search of the sens . At the order of the courteous cham- berlain who receives you a wicket-gate “Edith, 1 do believe you love the man, The words almost onusodyftichati betray Wmself, He trembled like loaf, for on Edith’s next words the joy oF man oka life time, was A milence for » and then Susie lifted head and looked face, which to a minutes friend's - § & i i i 1 i i i i { : ———— AI A The Aair in History. — Mme. Sarah Dernhardt arranges her of a flame rising from the poll, The flame from the crown belonged to the Korymbos and Nimbo head dresses, and something similar was seen in the Tholia. The Strophos, observed Greek statues, where the hair is beheld bound with Gilets of ribbon, was revived in England only a few years ago. The women of Egypt, Judea, Greece Rome have left nothing in the fashion of hairdressing to the initiation of their posterity. The gentler half of tha native South American Indians were wont in a state of savagery to cut their hair straight across their foreheads in what we call the fringe. The Jewish and Athenian dames and damsels were cauls, nets of silk and thread, and combs and ornaments of silver, gold and precious stones, just like their successors to the palm of beauty in Paris, Rome, Berhn and Vienna Jo-day. Even the plumed and feathered head of the Duchess dressed fora royal draw- ing room has ils prototype mong the Blackfeet and Choctaws of the red men and their amiable squaws, ‘FASHION NOTES. ~bkirts are worn short by «ll save elderly women. —Figured India silks have plaid bo- dices with lace jabots, —Black crape de chine is trimmed with Spanish lace, —Foulard and India silk are trimmed with bands of white gulpure, —B8uede and Baxe gloves are the pop- ular styles and are in soft tones. — Black lace over white net is used for flouncing colored silk dresses, ~The fashionable contrast of moss green and biscuit color is very charm ing. —Yellow satin, so popular this sea son, is combined with white muslin embroidered with gold. —Hand-painted gauze fans are car- ried with summer toilets, The gauze is black, white or tinted. — Breton and Swiss bodices seem to increase in popularity, and are exceed- ingly becoming to little girlish figures, ~—Colored nun’s veiling dresses are trimmed with muslin embroidery in colors to correspond, put on with lavish hand, ~Tocked bodices have lengthwise tucks confined at the waist-lice by a row of stitching, so that a belt is not NOCessary. —A very effective evening dress 18 of nasturtium-colored satin with a tram of black faille Francaise loosely tied with black velvet, The front and sides of the dress are very gracefully draped, and are covered with black lace with Lroad strijes of jet, Lightly looped at the sides. favorites in Paris. Some have the bnm narrow behind, while others have the wide brim all round. Hats bent at the side, in gypsy fashion, and turned up at the back, are very popular. One of the latter style is covered with bows of straw-colored ribbon, pink roses and ears of corn. Panama sallor hats ure worn with yachting costumes. They are trimmed with ribbon the shade of the dress, worn end, silk or barege, The ribbon is tied at | the back, the ends falling below the | brim. The scarf is wound about the | ends reaching below the shoulders, | Lingerie and all the minutest de- | tails of the toilet are daily becoming | more costly and tasteful. | sas of simple woolen material very plain collars are worn of thick etamine, but on one corner is carelessly fastened a | fiy, beetle or other such device, a fancy | jewel worth four times the price of the whole costume, With a low dress a | pennant of sapphires or pearls is suspen- | ded from & DArTOW band of tulle tied at i the side, elegant than ever. | sither of the same material as the dress, or quite contrasting with it. | economy chooses her sunshade of moire | or shot silk in such shades as blue, red, | cream, mauve, or amber, veiled over | with Chantilly lace; such a sunshade 5 | shades of shot i 1 silk, surah, cretonne, gard to expense—ihat which is novel { and pretty is always expensive—will have pone but the large sunshade of | plain silk crape, pleated or gauged at | the top with seyen or eight rows of tiny | ling light froth; this sunshade 1s entirely red, or pale blue or moss-green, under black Chantilly lace, and is lined with | thin silk of the same color. Such isthe | the handle of which is finished with a cat's-eye, lapis-lazuli, ora delicately- | chiseled animal's head of old ivory. | —A very simple and tasteful indoor | dress for a young lady is of periwinkle | blue woolen crape; it is made with high | bodice gathered at the throat and | waist-line in the middle of both front | a plain waistband very full at the back, | and but slightly in front; it talis with a | deep hem over an underskirt of sateen of the same color, finshed round the surah to match, which shows beyond the hem. Foulard or any thin silk may be used for the underskirt, but sateen looks almost as well, and is quite crape or is no drapery on the bodice of a very deep round collar 1s fastened round the neck; it is of a finely-pleated lace and comes down to the shoulder; it 1s fin- ished round the top with a ruche. Sleeves are made rather less tight and plain than hitherto. When the style of the costume allows of a very fine tissue of light lace, the upper part of the sleeve is made of this tissue or lace, finely pleated leng ways or slightly gathered at the shoulder aud elbow, with a small bow over the pieats or gathers; the sleeve opens below the elbow, or comes down lower and is gathered once more round the wrist. Often both the front HORSE NOTES, George Church, the famous lights weight jockey, has severed his connecs Jiou with the stable of Plerre Lorils —~Robert Peck, the English trainer, purchased eleven yearlings, at a cost o 14,630 guineas, in one week recents y. —Paul Hacke, of Plitsburg, the owner of the stallion Duquesne (2.17%), will make quite an importation of Nor« man horses from France naxt fall —It took four beats in 2,17 and better to win the free-for-all race at Pittsburg, recently, A few years ago this would have been considered very fast time, —Budd and Billy Doble have ab Chicago, among other horses, Trouba~ dour, Will Collender, May Bird, Gus, Iris, a five-year-old by Princeps and a colt by Electioneer. —The American horse, Blue Grass, is the second winner of the double English event, the Northumberland | and Cumberland Plates, Eryx having previously done the trick in 1847. —In 1884 the Pittsburg Driving Park Association lost $10,000, more than $8000 of which was charged up against the runners, This year the association is something like $5000 ahead. —James Murphy of Lexington, Ky., has taken charge of Edward Corrigan’s Kansas City stable, and now has it at Saratoga, J. W. Rogers having resigned and gone to his farm. —Maud Messenger, by Messenger Chief, is coming to her last season’s form. Murphy drove her two heats close to 2.20 recently, and she did the last quarter of her fastest mule in 333 seconds, —George Scattergood has purchased the ch, m. Flede Holden, record 2.44%. by Jim Monroe, dam Miss Holden, 4 Blue Bull. This mare won in the 3. class at Warren, Pa., getting a record of 2.44}. — The running meeting at Washing- | ton Park, Chicago, was a t finan | etal success, and now the track is being put In condition for the trotters. The net profits of the meeting are esti to have been $30,000. —On Friday, July 10, the bay gelding Regalf the property of Captain N. Dickinson, of Port Jefferron, N. XX | split the long pastern bone of his o | fore leg while trotting the fourth heat of the 2.34 class at New Haven. —Senator Stanford’s driver, Marvin, | will soon bring two car-loads of trot- | ters East. Among them will be Sallie | Benton, Hinda Rose, and Palo Alto, | the colt by Electioneer from Dame | Winnie by Planet. ! Ed Bither says: “We all know Phallas is a great harse, but any good | man can have him if money enough is ! put up, and I'll undertake to beat him with Jay-Eye-See. By the way Harry | Wilkes 18 coming he is liable to give us | all trouble.” ~The imported thoroughbred stale | lion Young Prince died at San Rafael, Cal., July 1, from fatty degeneration of the heart. Young Prince was a bay, foaled 1870, imported from England in 1877, by M. C. Fisher, of San Rafael, | who owned him at the time of his | death. —Favorite, the dam of Westwood, Bourbon Wilkes and Favorite Wilkes, | by Alexander's Abdallah, dam Lizzie | Peeples, by Wagner, died July 13, at | Paris, Ky., from the effects of foaling. | Favorite had a record of 2.35} and was { owned by James Miller, Sunny Side | Stock Farm. | —Daniel Lewis Petitee, once hail | fellow well met on the road and turf, | and owner of several horses which ac- | quired prominence, died on Thursday | morning, July 16. It is said that Mr. A. J. Cassett, { Mr. W., L. tt and Mr. James Gals | way are about to become stockholders | in the Monmouth Park Association. | This was proposed some {Wo years ago, | but somehow ii Was never consummat- | ed. The present stockholders are James | Gordon Bennett, August Delmont, | Pierre Lorillard and W. W. Withers, —In reply to the statement, which | has been made more than once, that | Phallas has bone spavin, Mr. J. 1, Case | gays: “There is nothing of the Kind on | him. When he was 4 years old he got loose from the man holding him out to grass, and in his run went thro h a pile of rotten manure and cut his t | just above and back of the usual seat of | spavin, and in healing it left a calloused enlargement. [am happy to say that Phallas is right in all respects, and I think able to trot in 2.12.” —Although the Erdenheim Stable has had its share of success it has been rather unfortunate with its horses the present season, losing Promeaade at | Rheepshead, followed by Pardes’s accl- dent at Monmouth.. The latest case is that of the brown colt Brown Duke, a 2-year-old, by Reform—Madge who, while at work on Thursday, 16th instant picked up a nail and pecessitated his being stopped. He was one of the best two-year-olds in the stable. He has begun work again, however, as the accident was not as bad as at first im. agined, — Fifty-seven gil you are nominated for the en
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers