ee —— sa
—
A BROWN HAND AND A STRONG
HAND,
———
A brown hand and a strong hand,
A hand that can drive the plow,
Can sow the land, can reap the land,
And manage and milk a cow,
Can wield theaxe the wholeday long,
Can handle the scythe and rake;
A brown hand and a strong hand
That work for Love's dear sake.
A brown Land and a strong band,
A hand that will never shirk
Crank or pulley or wheel-band,
Grimy for dangerons work;
A hand that can use the hammer,
Can handle the chain and brake;
A broad hand and a hard palm
To work for Love's dear sake,
A firm hand and a strong hand,
To hold the guiding rein,
A hand with grip and muscle,
That nothivg can tire or strain;
A lean hand, a working hand,
A hand that is geod to take;
A hand that 18 never weary,
Working for Love's dear sake.
A little hand, a brown hand,
That can sweep, and dust and clean;
A brown hand with a golden band
Running a sewing machine;
A little hand, a brown hand,
That can wash, and cook and bake,
A clever hand, a kind hand,
Busy for Love's dear sake.
The high hand and the strong hand
Is stronger still if it take
The small hand and the brown hand,
+o busy for Love's dear sake,
Then a strong clasp, a long clasp,
Till nothing on earth can part
The littie hand and the large hand,
Joined Ly a loving heart.
ESRI a
MADDALENA'S LOVERS.
I was wandering by our river a few
days ago, seeking for a place to cast a
fly, when [ came upon a familiar nook,
It was the second day of my holidays,
the first I have spent for many years in
the home of my childhood. On the
previous day I had been disappointed to
find that I remembered so little of the
scenery; now, in this most memorable
of all our haunts, everything flashed
back upon me. Giving way gladly to
the dreamy mood I flung myself down
on a moss-covered rock that overhung
the river and began to watch the clear
brown waters as they rippled over the
stones and through the rushes. Ina
few moments I was deep in memories
of the past.
For several reasons, some of which
may appear as I go on, I think I shall
write down the little history of which
my mind is full and let some of my
friends see 1t. Perhaps then they will
understand more clearly how it is that
things are as they are with us; perhaps
they will believe me when I say that
even in this prosaic nineteenth century,
heroic lives are possible,
Though my twin-brother and I had
something to say to the story I am
about to relate, neither of us was its
hero. The honors belong to Maddelena,
and to explain how Maddalena, came to
be what she was, I shall have to refer
to certain events that happened some
years before we were born.
Mr. Seymour, an elderly and some-
what eccentric Englishman, was travel-
ing one year through the north of Italy.
He came to Florence, which with its
treasures of art so bewitched him that
he could not tear himself away. He
was alone, having left his wife and
grown-up daughter at Mentone. As
was his custom upon these occasions of
solitary travel, he avoided the finely
appointed hotels, which English people
love to frequent, and put up ata small,
unpretending inn, visited prineipally by
Italians,
He bad not been more than two days
at the hotel before he was attracted by
his neighbor at the table d’hote. She
was a child, probably about 7 years of
age, a quick, clever, vivacious little
Italian, with small, round, olive-tinted
face, expressive brown eyes, and dark,
curly hair, She had for a companion a
pale-faced, worn-looking woman, who,
although she treated the child with the
most perfect indifference appeared to be
her mother.
The sharp child, discovering the im-
pression she had made on the grave-
faced Englishman, began to play off her
airs and upon him, She must
have been delightfully comic as she
smiled and made eyes at her neighbor,
or shocked him by flying into mimic
rage, or bewildered him by rattling
nongense-music on the piano. Being a
serious man, Mr. Seymour did not see
the comic side of the little maden’s
ormances, It grieved him to the
to think what the child’s future
would be, and, shy as she was, he intro-
duced himself to Maddalena’s mother,
and ventured on a few words of remon-
strance.
She listened politely, expressed her
regret that her Lena should have an-
noyed him, and said that owing to her
occupation—she was a concert singer—
she could not look after her child as she
would to do. The sole consequence
Mr. mour’s interference was that
the next occasion when the mother
boul to sing Lena was tied up in
to keep her quiet. He heard
weeping and lamenting, ventured
the bold step of releasing her, and
m that day the two became fast
iu the spring of the following year
Mr. Seymour visit:d Florence again,
this time in company with his wife and
and, followed by the weeping child, car-
ried it reverently to the inn, which was
close at hand.
Nothing was known in Florence of
tha dead singer; and although Mr,
Seymour made the case, with all its
attendant circumstances, widely known
through the Italian press, no one ap-
peared to claim the child, She stayed
in the meanwhile with his wife and
daughter, both of whom were charmed
by her quaininess and beauty. They lin-
gered for some time in Florence, hoping
to find out something of her friends,
Finally to the delight of Mary Seymour,
the daughter, who was beautiful and
tender-hearted, it was decided that Le-
na should go back with them to their
country home in Devonshire,
There, for some time, Maddalena was
as happy as any child could be. Mary
Seymour was her constant companion
and teacher and she repaid her with the
most passionate affection. Mary un-
derstood her, Her songs and wild
antics, her outbursts of passion or sor-
row, her romances, her curious thoughts
and brooding fancies, could all be pour-
ed out to this dear friend, who, even if
she disapproved of what she heard and
saw, did it far too gently to hurt the
sensitive child,
There came a dark day for Lena and
her guardians, Mary Seymour, who
had for sometime been suffering from
depression, which arose from her pa-
rents’ repeated refusals to ally herself
with the man she loved, left home sud-
denly and secretly. Being of more than
full age she had determined to take her
future into her own hands, She went
to some friends abroad and was married
from their home,
To Maddalena the consequences were
very bitter. At first she refused to be-
lieve that Mary had left her forever.
She had gone, but she would certainly
send for her soon. She would not be
able to live without her Lena. Dut no
summons came, oniy a little letter tell-
ing ber that Mary was happy and beg-
ging her to be patient and good.
She tried, poor child! butit was hard
work, for she was ternbly solitary now.
She drew a little comfort from her vivid
fancies, but even these she could not
indulge in the house, When she laughed
or played or sang, or poured out the
imaginary dialogues she had been com-
posing, somes ons would be sure to hear
her, and questions she could not answer
would be asked. And so it became her
habit to take refuge in the woods and
by the nver-banks, where she had little
with imaginary friends.
It was whispered, meantime, in the
neighborhood that the foreign child at
the Seymour's was no* quite like other
people. She had been beard talking to
herself and capering wildly about her
nursery; she was said to indulge in un-
governable fits of fury and meaningless
ecstacies, Mr. Seymour had been seen
to look at her gravely. Mrs, Seymour
had openly lamented in the presence of
several of her neighbors, that she had
ever undertaken to provide for her
future.
This mischievious talk, when it came
to Lena's ears, filled her with the sad-
dest and bitterest feelings. Everything
was mysterious to her. Why did peo-
ple whom she knew hurry by her with-
out speaking. What was the meaning
of the stray words that fell upon her
ear? “Poor little Maddalena!” That
was what thay called ber. What was
it? What had she done that even the
very children whom she adored should
be afraid of her?
Thinking of these things in her green
parlor by the river. Lena found a great
dread taking possession of her soul. It
was all true, she said to herself, She
was a really a creature apart from
others, Her joys and sorrows were not
those of her friends; they never would
be. She was destined all her life to live
alone, As the days went by a horror of
darkness seemed to envelop her. She
was fast drifting into a state of mental
insepsibility,. What the consequence
might have been, if nothing had
changed, it is terrible to think.
But our Father in heaven, without
whose will not so much as a sparrow
falls to the ground, had been watching
over Lena through the sad years of her
childhood and the day came when she
was brought back to the gentle sympa-
thy of human life,
She was about 14 years of age when
the summons for which she had never
ceased to look, arrived. She carried it
at once to her guardian and laid it be.
fore him. It was a strange letter; only
a few words written hastily on a crump-
led plece of paper:
I want Lena and she will wish to
come to me, I know, In memory of
old times I eotreat my father and
mother to send her,
MARY
No other signature; only an address
in Florence.
Mr, Seymour was in bed with a lung-
attack when Lena brought this to him.
He read it and looked at her doubtfully.
“You will let me go?’’ she cried pas-
sionately.
“If this is Mary's writing * he
began.
“It is; it 18. See!” and she put it in
his band the last she had received.
**The trembling of the hand makes the
difference. My darling is ill—dying,
perhaps. I must go to her.” .
Her passionate desire won the victory,
started for Florence that day, and be-
fore the week wasout she and her
Mary were together,
{ have found in an old writing-desk
of my grandfather's the letter written
by Lens on the morning after ber arri-
val in Florence:
“Mary is terribly changed (she
writes.) I thinkleven you would scarce-
ly recognize her, 1 was so shocked
when I first saw her that I could not
speak, but now I have found my own
Mary again and we are all the world to
with me as 500n 48 she
in this world, She lingered for a few
months after Lena joined her. and then,
without one word about her past or one
reference to the ehildren’s father, she
fell asleep. The only direction she left
behind her was that Lena should take
her boys to her old home.
lish village, bringing with her two little
ren of Mary Seymour (uo one could call
Mary by her foreign name which was
unpronounceable among the villagers)
there were mauy remarks made, Un-
fortunately the children took atter their
foreign father and not their English
mother. Mr. Seymour himself could
find scarcely a trace of his lost daughter
in their faces. Mrs, Seymour refused
to believe that they were Mary’s at all.
But they were taken in, probably be-
cause no other course could be pursued,
and icquiries were set on foot to dis-
cover their father, or to ascertain the
fact of lus death. 2
All this affected the children very
little. They had the open air and their
play-room, and the garden and the
fields. Above all they had Maddalena
—their Maddalena—who played with
them, and petted them, and told them
stories; and what did they want besides?
For Maddalena, also—it makes me
glad to remember this—a new life be-
gan.
her, she held her head high, and went
about joyfully. While her Lucius and
her Ambrose adored her, she could
never be a creature apart.
I come now to the time when our
troubles began. Our grandfather died
suddenly. He left everything he pos-
daughter, If
distant relative, in whom both he and
his wife were interested. In the body
of
Maddalena; but in a codicil, signed but
unwitnessed, it wasentrealed that Mrs,
Seymour
their adopted daughter,
Our grandfather's
many changes to us,
death brought
Mrs. Seymour,
we were her daughter's children, now
showed her feelings openly,
banished from
our play-room was taken away front us.
But for Maddalena, who clung to her
little lovers courageously, we should
have been banished altegether to
kitchen and stables. Worse, however,
was to come, The relatives mentioned
in Mr. Seymour's will, who was to have
been the heir had Mary died childless,
paid us a visit and gamned a strong in-
fluence over our grandfather's mind,
that we should be sent to our country
and brought up in the position to which
he was pleased to say, we undoubtedly
belonged.
I remember poor Lena's agony when
she heard of the mischief that was be.
ing hatched azainst us and saw how
powerless she was toavert it; for the
ground upon which our enemy went
was her ability to think and act as a
reasonable being. She had not meant,
mour; but she herself had been decelv-
ed. It was pot Mary who sent the sum-
prospects had wished to make provi-
an excited frame of mind and she had
believed everything that was told ber,
This, at least, was the conclusion ar-
rived at by Mrs. Seymour, who now
sent for Maddalena and sternly bade
her to make her choice. The Italian
boys, being no kin of the Seymours,
were to go back to their own country;
she might remain where she was and
enjoy the provison made by her late
benefactor. In such case,
she must promise to have nothing fur-
ther to do with the little aliens,
It did not take long for Maddalena to
decide. Desert her little lovers? Not
1f they went she wonld go too.
On that very day we left England to-
gether on our way to Florence. Lena
had a little ready money and so had we,
and we lived on that for a time, Act-
the world, the Florentine doctor who
attended our mother in her last iliness,
Lena wrote to an English solleitor for
advice about us, She was told we had
no right whatever against Mrs. Sey-
mour. After her death, if we could
establish our wdentity with the persons
we professed to be, our claims to the
property might be put forward. Noth-
ing dsunted, Lena set herself to work.
She kissed her little lovers, who were
futures or the present, told them to be
of good heart, for though all the world
might desert them she never would,
and began to consider how she could
make money for them,
Lena had inberited Ler mother’s
beautiful voice, and Mr, Seymour, who
loved music, had procured some good
instruction for her, With a little more
training, given to her freely by an Ital.
jan master who admired her for her in-
dependence, she became a finished con-
cert-singer, and managed, for some
time to support herself and educate us
by singing in concert-halls and private
drawing-rooms. In the meantime her
clever brain which never rested for a
moment, was busy in other ways.
“You are English boys," she said to us,
“and I mean, if I can afford it, to send
you both to a good English school, but
I can’t do it yet.”
She was, in fact, at that very moment
fitting herself for another career, We
did not then know what she was to us,
40—when
that Italian doctor, of
both desperately jealous, came to our
little home and entreated our Madda-
lena not to kill ourself, we had but a
small idea of what was going on. We
did not know that for our sakes-—to
educate us, and feed us, and keep us as
gentlemen-she was working early in
the morning and late at n workiog
her Duantt away. Yet so gi
was, for, wus perfecting
voice, she was making for herself that
exquisite of English composition
ch, a few
oe
dreds and thousands of children all over
the world,
Her full meed of fame did not come
until much later; but in the meantime
she galned her wish, for her little lovers
| were sent by her to one of the first of
| the English public schools,
{ Noone now could have ventured to
| speak of Maddalena as different from
others, save as by her genius, her in-
dusiry, and her noble faithfullness to a
trust committed to her by a dying
friend, she excelled all other women
upon earth, When, therefore, after
several years of onr school life had gone
by, our grandmother died, and the
auestion of onr right to our grand-
father's property had to be tried, this
(his surest ground for contention of our
claim) was cut from under the feet of
onr adversary,
As it turned, however, the question
of Maddalena’s capacity and incapacity
to think and act reasonably did not
require to be entered into, for an unex-
pected champion appeared. When she
was battling with the world for us the
Italian doctor, to whom reference has
been made, had been busy gathering
evidence in support of our claim, He
complete that the case was not even
taken into court.
My brother and I stepped into
| of our old home, where we spent the
{ have narrated. We were then nearly
! the University of Oxford. It will be
| imagined that we were perfectly happy,
but Iam forced to confess that we were
not quite so happy as we had been,
Lena, indeed, had not changed. But
this, I think, was the principal source
of our discontent. We would have liked
| her lo change a little,
liked at least so we both persuaded our-
to one of us over the other,
There were two of us, and were provo-
{ kingly alike, but there
| Lena, and she had no right, we thought,
| erence
Such
when one day we missed Maddalena,
We knew her love for the riverside and
we sought for her along the banks, Lu-
| cius taking one direction and I another,
It was I who found her,
the nook she loved beyond all others,
where, under overarching trees,
our river sweeps round a mass of rock
covered with moss and ferns, and har-
boring in its crevices the loveliest
flowers.
covered rock. Her face was in shadow
and her eyes were cast down, and her
lips were parted in a smile of deep con-
| tent,
heart, I pressed forward. It wasasl
thought. Our Maddalena was not alone,
The friend who had sustained and help-
ed her through these long years—the
Italian doctor—was by her side, and
| one glimpse of his face was enough to
show nse what had happened.
to themselves,
Presently 1 met Locius, He looked
found Maddalena,
“Yes,” I answered, “I have found
her. She does not want us.”
“Us?” he echoed, angrily, **What do
you mean?"
I put my hand on his arm, for he was
“Lucius,” I said, “the Signor Dottore
| is with ber.”
“What?’ be cried, “here!”
“Yes, herel
| parlor, They look very happy. I think
| we ought not to disturb them.”
{ From that moment [Lucius and 1
| were friends, and we never fell out
| again,
Music Revives Memorios.
| We were off Cape Hatteras on
iin August. The first mate was a tal,
chatiing with him at the the starboard
| from their summer vacation, were sing-
| ing “Inthe Gloaming,” ‘John Brown's
| body,” aud “Sweet Bye and Bye.” As
| they came to the chorus of this last
| song, hes
| singing.
| ing takes hold of me like sscred muse,”
| Aud then, amid the swash of the waves,
| he related to me the following incident:
“When a very little fellow, I did
something which deserved severe pun-
ishment, My mother took me on her
lap and talked to me kindly; then made
| me kneel down by her while she prayed
| for me, and then the family joined with
i hor in singing, ‘All Hall the Power of
Jesus’ Name’ to Coronation, At the age
of 28 I found myself in New York after
a trip round the world, a rough sailor.
One evening I was going up town with
a number of my for a night
Near Bt John's Park I
th
HORSE NOTES.
| ~The Preakness Stable offers to seil
any horse in its list in trang.
| ~Jofin Reiley, of Philadelphia, has
$1000,
~5t. Blaise is the eleventh
winner imported into the United States,
—Kl Hutchings, of Danville, Ky.,
drove his S-year-old Grandby a fine
race,
~The English horse Woodstock, by
Bir Bevys, out of Stella, by Mogador,
is coming to the New York Horse
Show,
~—W. H. Crawford and Ed Bither
were at the Lexington races. Bither
drove Bermuda against Nutbreaker in
the 2-year-old stakes,
~Elvira has not lost her speed al-
though she has gone blind, Faller, her
driver, says she can trot a mile in 2.17,
blind as she is.
John Shepard, of Boston, is driving
{ De Barry, 2.194, with Mill Boy, on the
| road,
{ —~Moore Floyd, of New York, has
| bought Lena Swallow,2.19,from Forbes
| & Wilhite, for $5000.
year-old colt Volo, by Aramis, from
Mr. Powers for $2000,
— All association
Herring Run (Md.) Track.
—J. N. Carlisle & Co, have purchased
McBowling, by Tom Bowling, from
J. W. Rogers for $1000,
Commodore Kittson’s Pardee
probably stand another preparation.
He was unable to put his foot down for
nearly a week after his memorable
finish for the Lorillard stakes,
~The match race between Isidor
Cobnfield’s Maxey Cobb and John
Murphy's unnamed stallion hangs fire,
{ and is not likely to be arranged.
-The Covington (Ky.) fail running
meeting was a Success in every way.
In addition te the eight regular days,
racing was given on three extra days,
—Johnston, the pacer, is reported to
be all right again. Next season he will
be put in training, and, if they gait
| right, will probably be driven double
with Minnie R.
- The pacer Fritz, g. g., record 2.18,
| fell
Y ork on the 17th after pacing a8 mile in
2.50. He was owned by John 8,Camp-
bell, the former driver of Richball, and
was valued at $30,000,
~{3eorge Lindenberger and Sleve
Maxwell, of Louisville, Ky., are two
| gentlemen who are hard to beat as &
team.
Henry Simons, drive “Bob” Johnson,
By the way, Simons sits with as much
| grace and with more ease on a piano
stool than in a sulky, and he can play
i the same tune over and over again.
—Recently, W. LI. Jones took to
Kentucky, for the Dwyer Bros., George
| Kinney, Barnes, Miss Woodford and
the yearling colt by Luke Blackbum,
| out of Ivy Leaf by imported Australian.
| They all go to the Runnymede Stud of
| Messrs. Clay & Woodford, in Bourbon
| county, where they will pass the winter,
| will be trained the coming spring,
otherwise the brothers will most likely
breed her to Hindoo.
| the most successful at the fall meeting
{ of the Maryland Jockey Club, winning
{ two
| Stable won four and $4550; La Masney
| two and $2450; Oden Bowie, one and
| $1300; J. E. McDonald, two and $1100;
| IL. Curran, two and
| one and $500; G. W. Jennings, one and
| $500; G. H. Kernaghan, one and $400;
| J. McMahon, $300; Excelsior Stable,
Medinger, $100; William Jennings,
$100; D, C. Fannin & Co., $100; G. L.
Lorillard, $100; F. C. Zieblg, $100;
| Davis & Hall, $50,
This year has been especially prolific
{in the development of fast trotting
| youngsters. Kentucky holds the win-
ining hand with the phenomenons
| Nutbreaker, Patron, Princeton, Green-
| lander, Silverone, Eaglebird, Prince
Wilkes and Reference; Maine produced
Nelson; Minnesota, Lord Nelson;
California, Manzanita; and Illinois,
Jeanette. The leading 5-year-old is
Patron, a 3S-year-old
Rose's best mile (2.10}) at that age
during the Lexington meeting now in
progress. and beat Steinway’s 3-year-old
stallion, record of 2.25}.
~ As Mr. Bonner returned from a
spin behind Maud 8S. to MeCoomb's
dam, recently, ho talked a few minutes
with a reporter about the famous mare,
“She drove very pleasantly to-day, as
it would not do for a grandmother to
drive her. Her condition at tis
superb, She is never troub
the road, but you have to watch her
carefully, she is so high spirited.
requires a reinsman to be behind her.
She is much more e to drive
“No, I do not. That is to say, 1
a three-minute or a ‘or
— i 52
FASHION NOTES
~What can be prettier or more be.
coming to a baby than one of those soft,
| fleecy little hoods, knitted of rabbit's
wool yarn, and what more healthful ?
A little knitted jersey jacket of this
wool would be an simple protection
from the cold, and prové a most com-
fortable little garment so well. Why
not try one, and run a little narrow
satin ribbon in at the neck and waist ¢
—Furs are beginning to be wom
earlier than formerly, and sensible peo-
ple are awakening to the fact thal tie
darwp, chilly fall days are Lhe very
worst of the year in which to take cold,
A shoulder cape of fur is quite an
sential garment for our late fall, and
| no one who has tried their comfort will
longer shiver and shake will the pene-
trating dampness of the late autuon
days,
—~ Walking costumes are, generally
speaking, of simple construction. with
jacket bodice closely fitting and skirts
| arranged in broad panels with kKutlings
| set between: this favorite if not novel
style of trimming is often «1 by
bands of soutache or other fancy brad
{set in many rows around the skirt,
The overdress 18 full and high in the
| back, this drapery requiring the sup-
i port of the tournure of crincieite or
hair cloth,
i
“He
Ba
war
Yall
their
good
1g an
own,
50106
1 for
J * JAE
| prime may be
effect for house
| over ?Press of angora net ineitl
| gray or black. A cashmert
soft woolen fabric should be
waist or draperies, while the siceves
would be of angora over color }
Light blue under brown «
ticularly pret
lace over color ads
Less,
As a protection against {
is an additional comfort
season in the elastic woolen unas
{ which clings with the 1
baby’s knitted wool shirt,
advantages over merino, rst
them being Its very
effect on Lhe skin would pol
that of the hygienic
the difference that this new
15 of the purest
was of silk.
— Beaded trimmings, fea
nettes marabout bands, chen
applique garuitures in silk i
chenille tuftings. Astrakan, and many
other fancy trimnmings have
degree taken the place of fura
to jackets and mantles, the
fashiopabie than lor some yea
being relegated to the side w
in most out of door garments
for some reasons at least, is
departure, as the very heavy
fur flounces of recent years, while
added greatly to the weight «
ment they trimmed, contrit
er to the warmth nor tl
their wearers,
— Whatever contrast there may be in
the colors composing autumn costumes,
there is harmony in the general effect,
bonnet and mantle corresponding to the
materials used in combination in the
gown. The gloves also are in keeping
with the prevailing tone, although the
tan suede still retains its place for
utility purposes, Costumes having
plain skirts, in contrast to the over-
| dress, are also worn, velvet or velveteen
being a favorite for this style of dress,
In this case the bonnet or hat repro-
duces the colors in its arrangement.
Homespun is used in combination with
| velveteen and striped silk, the tone of
the homespun showing in the velveteen
{ or 1m the silk.
—The new Havane or tobacco brown
shades that have a great deal of yellow
in them are used with fine effect for
| lighting up costumes of @nouse-color,
| seal brown, or plomb grey Bengaline
| and velvet; in some instances a third
| olor is added, which is usually a dull
| blue shade, not so light as turquoise nor
{80 dark as sapphire, For instance, a
| seal brown Bengaline skirt opens all the
| way down the back and the left side to
|ghow a brown satin skirt, trimmed
yellowish
te still i
A858 8Li1 10
1 wii?
WOO Wile
“
| across with bands of the
| Havane velvet, while the right sides
| turned back in reverse on this new art-
| blue shade of velvet; ljet cording form-
| Ing loops and very large faceted jet
buttons are set on the brown revers,
A second dress in these new combina~
tions of eolor has the front breadth and
vest of the dull blue velvet, with side
is on the skirt of mouse-colored
| Bengaline bordered with gilt passemen-
terie, while each side of these panels is
a revers of Havane satin edged with
| dark Labrador fur.
~In writing about the fashions we
| must speak of the prevalence of speck-
led cloths, materials of plain ground
flecked with different colors, such as
fill our shops and which our shop keep-
ers call “novelties.” These, they say,
are made up with a plain material, and
as this fashion of mixing plain and fig-
ured goods invariably points to the
polonaise, 1t seems that the polonaise is
Normsita
nokbing
of a polonaise.
guiar de
1H