Dreamers,
Many a beautiful sunbeam plays in the
orest deep,
Many a beautiful starbeam strays
the children’s sleep.
Many dewdrop glistens unnoticed by
mortal eyes,
And lips that we see not breathe us the
fragrance of other skies,
in
Deep in the depths of the heart strays
many & golden gleam,
Many a beautiful starray enters the dreams-
er's dream;
fewels that sparkle and glisten, breezes
from balmy skies
Live in the soul, ideal, all hidden from
mortal eyes, ,
All the delightful landscapes outstretched
to the mental view
Beautiful worlds receding beyond the hori
zon blue—
Zlories that blend above it in streams that
eternal flow,
Are to the dreameor's fancy as visions of
long ago.
“Tis thus the sweet ideal beauty and truth
are found-—
Unheard, noseen as tho treasures deep in
the silent ground;
Che sou
ta
wate
pensive dreams
tue world that seems,
——————
heir heads above the ceaseless, tumul-
mons wash of the billows.
dim, girlish figure, her hands lightly
swossed upon her knees and her dark
ace, with its great, restless gray eyes,
coking far out over the water, The
ace is one that, once seen, can not
won be forgotten, and so thinks an-
sther, who, from a sheltered nook, has
seen watching for some moments the
juiet igure,
The shadows of evening are falling
‘ast: evem now the sun, just vanishing
n the west, is flinging out into the sky
ts farewell banners of crimson
gold. Yet still the girl sits motionless,
with that strange, yearning look upon
1er young face which first attracted the
satcher’s attention.
At last he abandons his post of ob-
sarvation and strolls away down the
noss-covered shelves of rocks, picking
1's way slowly and carefully, in the
norinin light, along the dangerous
sath.
Suddenly he trips and catches him-
seli; but with the next false step his
‘cot slips into a crevice, and a sharp
nust have sprained it. “What shall I
lo in this out-of-the-way place with a
jprained ankle?” he ruefully thinks,
rainly trying to draw his foot from
where it is held in the rock’s jagged
smbrace, He finds that he 1s fast, and
shen bethinks him of the maiden in her
were perch. .
ipproach,
“I fesr that my foot is seriously
wrt,” he says. “Is there any place
wear where 1 can stop over mght? 1
hink by morning it will be all right, if
. keep quiet at first,”
The irjared member has been deftly
irawn out by strong, pliant fingers
sansing Lim to utter an exclamation of
min,
“My house is not very lar off,” the
gir] replies, ‘and, though my father is
yity’s sake, ’
Gay rises and essays to walk, bWi it
s evidently no easy matter.
“T.ean on me, sir,” says the girl,
vith a vibrating, musical voice and
worreet language, which strikes him as
strange in an inhabitant of that rude,
apéultured region.
Guy glances at the slight arm ex-
wnded to him, and then down at his
ywn athletic form, with a half smile.
*] am stronger than I look, sir; try.’
Thus urged, he rests his hand upon
ser shoulder, and finds she spoke traly;
and, with frequent pauses, and leaning
aeavily upen his guide, he manages to
reach her rude stone dwelling,
An old man, browned with exposure
0 the sun, and with long white hair
aanging over his shoulders, stands in
ihe lighted doorway, peering down the
sath, He Lears the oaching steps,
“Yon are late, child. What kept
ron?’ Then he sees the stranger.
“Whom have yon here?” he says
sharply, with a sudden, noticeable
shange in his voice from fond solicitude
0 displeasure.
“A gentleman, father, who has fallen
apon the rocks and hurt himself,”
Guy Erceidoune lifts his hat oour-
ieously to the weird, rough-iooking
man before him,
“Sir, but for your daughter I should
sven pow be in painful ‘durance vile,’
Will you not complete the good work
she has begun, by allowing me a night's
shelter?”
Whether it is that the courtly bow
and polite address call up reminiscences
of the past, or that the charm of the
{rank voice and handsome face impresses
sven him, old Simon, (as he is called in
the region around), with a low mutter,
which can hardly be called assent, yet
is not denial, turns and leads the way
in, Guy follows, longing to rest his
which now him acutely,
The boot is gentl wn off, and small,
ba and bandage his
——
sonled volume of the past, his gloomy
countenance softens somewhat.
A few days go by, and, evidently
much to Elyie's surprise, her father,
instead of spending the evening poring
over his musty books, draws his chair
near their guest and takes part in the
conversation,
A sprained ankle seems a trifling
thing, but it often proves very trouble-
some, and Erosldoune’s long walk did
not do his injury any good. Bo he is
still obliged to keep perfectly quiet,
To tell the truth, it is no irksome thing
to him, for fate has never before thrown
in his path one who so puzzles, baflles
and bewitches him as does this simple
maiden, with hor lovely, refined face
and rude dress and surroundings,
Elvie and her father's guest have
many long talks, The girl, with her
impulsive actions and her unrestrained
delight, as she listens to his stories of
the great world she has never known,
seems a mere child; but her exquisite
form, daintily rounded in the truest
symmetry, and her face, with ita ever-
| changing eyes, is a woraan s,
More than a week has gone by, and
Guy now thinks that he will be able to
{use his foot.
| father so,
hair with a sudden
| starts to speak, then hesitates; finally
| he says:
| short time I have known you I
{ learned to trast you.” He says
| word *‘trust” with a strong emphasis,
“I had thought never to believe in
| anything outside of these walls again;
dence, and would not stoop to a dis-
honorable action, Stay”-—as Guy at-
I have not
Years ago
say this—Ilet me tell you,
always been as you see me,
aftection, with a good business, a wife
and this child,” touching Elvie, who
sits quietly beside him, *‘A villain in
whom I trusted ruined my fortunes,
wife was stricken suddenly and died.
There is no need to speak of the an-
guish and bitterness I struggled with-
|it ended in
| left me in this world, Here I have
| been since.
without relatives,”
“Father! father! do not speak of dy-
ing!”
Elvie springs to the old man’s side,
and her dark hair mingles with his
white locks as
around his neck.
luvoluntary
listener's eyes.
touched by
pathetic Leart,
“What J want to ask of you is this,”
tears spring into
He is ever
child's arms and
aside:
protector to Eivie, Will you place her
in a position where she can earn her
own living?
have seen to that myself,
have said before, I trust you.
is alone
see
her?
Guy Erceldoune answers:
1 will.”
ment to his face, then, turning, she
hides them upon her father's shoulder,
i
i
i into his face.
fareweill”
“As Klvie accom
tage. Guy says to her:
your father is taken away from you
(which I hope may be a long distance,
for your sake), I will take you to a dear
aunt—my mother's sister. She loves
me, and is childless, and will do any-
thing to please me, Remember, if any-
thing happens, send immediately for
me— you have my address,
He pauses, and looks hesitatingly into
her face, Burely,’she is such a child,
one kiss would bé no harm, She lift)
her innocent eyes to his face and holds
broad palm, hie realizes for the first
time that this girl, with her peculiar,
winsome beauty, is more to him than
ever woman has been belore.
He raises the little fingers to his lips,
and goes, not trusting himself to stay
longer,
*It would be a sin,” ho thinks to him.
self as he strides along, *‘to disturb her
sweet innocence; but some day, per-
haps—"
The time is not long until his sum-
mons comes, and as hastily as he trayels,
there is one that travels faster. He
finds a group of rough but kindly fish-
erwomen in the stone cottage, trying to
soothe the daughter, who had flung
nerself beside the dead, refusing com-
fort, Bui useless are those sobs, those
passionate caresses; the stern lips which
had ever been so tender to her will
never again uneclose to address her.
The ,quiet funeral is over, and Guy
Erceldonne is glad that he did not
speak what was in his mind that morn.
ing, as he potes how to no one else does
the bereaved girl turn for comtort as
she does to him, and like a brother he
cares for her,
As they leave the rude cottage where
all her life has been spent, with no
companion but her books and the father
just laid beneath the sod, Elvie gives
look backward; then she leaves
her old home forever.
Mrs, ‘Trevor clasps her kind arms
the Joung Stranger.
sweolness is gad i
music in the motheriess
welcome
——
only eighteen, and he must not take
advantage of her inexperience. If,
when she sees more of this world, she
comes to him, then will his happiness
be all the greater for waiting. His
business does not lie near his aunt's
home, sc it fs but seldom he can be
there,
One day Mrs Trevor holds out to
Elvie a miniature which she has taken
from a drawer,
“Have you ever seen the picture of
the young lady that is to be my nephew’s
wife?”
Elvie takes it in her hand mechani-
cally. Her nephew's wife? Why does
her heart throb so wildly? With an
effort she looks at the pictured face
which smiles up at her, so different
from her own, with its sweet, timid ex-
pression, fair hair and bine eyes,
“I did not know he was engaged.”
“Oh, yes, placidly replied Mrs. Tre-
vor, laying it back into its case again;
“they ars to be married before a great
while,”
It 1s evening, in the gloaming Elvie
walks up and down the veranda. To
and fro she pnces, her scarlet shawl
slipping from her shoulders and trailing
like a serpent or flame down her flowing
She pushes the masses of dark hair
that looked out at me from his
eyes, when it was
she raised her bare arms to
head, “how 1f aches!
her
betray myself]l”
Mrs, Trevor wonders much at the
passionate earncstness of Elvie's good-
her, and she understands, when, the
inds the dainty nest
empty and that the bird has flown,
A brief note on Elvie's toilet stan
says that she is tired of being deper
golf, It begins bravely enough, but
Elvie"—shows the lady that
independence, She sits down and
thinks over all that has happened the
last few days, and
upon her,
letter
“Auntie, you may be right
little proud darling, how well she hid
her love—if she does love me. Would
was to me; but I feared to stake my all
1 was sure, and now, through
waiting, I have lost her!”
“Nay, Guy, surely she cannot be
feel that what has happened
Five yoars have passed, Elvie left
no cine, and though Guy and his aant
never found even a trace of her they
both love so well, Her disappearance
is a mystery which their umted efforis
have not solved, and now Gay has given
up all hope, He bears his griel man-
fully, but lus aunt sees how he suffers,
One day a letter comes to him from
“you have never seen my wile save in
he writes, ‘‘Uome and ac-
Guay accept the invitation, and his
Time passes amid varied
pleasures. :
Ons evening they are invited to attend
an artist's reception, Guy sccompanies
swiftly,
the long rooms,
Before ome picture the crowd is some-
This is what he
sees: A stretch of rock-bound shore,
whita-crested heads; above the sky
glows with the vivid hues of a setling
ground, while at one side, upon a large
jagped-edged bowlder, is seated the
slight form of a young girl. She
gazing out over the sea, her hands
lightly clasped about her knees, and
her great, luminous eyes look out of
her dark face with an intense longing
in their depths,
Guy trembles as he stands, Ie
exquisite thing, which, voices
around bim are saying, ‘“‘will surely
take the prize.”
He reads tho artist's name in the
catalogue—'"Miss Elvert.,”
his brother something of his story, and
with his help soon ascertains where she
resides,
This evening Miss Eivert, whose pict-
ure has been pronounced the success
of the sedson, is seated in her room
alone, It 1s Elyie; the same beautiful
dark face as of old; but there is a rest.
less look in her eyes, and she shivers
slightly as she murmurs:
*‘Ah, all this praise is very sweet, but
why does 1t not make moe happy?
The door opens gently behind her,
«Miss Elvert, a visitor wishes to see
ou.”
y Wearily rising, and drawing her orim-
son shawl over her shoulders, she walks
through the Jong hall, **Another to
tulate me, I suppose,” she thinks
as she opens the door.
Some one starts forward; clasps her
close to his heart, and, in a voice whose
musical fones she remembers well, ex-
claims:
“At last! at last! Elvie, my darling!”
She draws away with an air of hau.
tour; her face is as chilling as Greenland
snows, with never a bit of eolor, save
in the perfect Kps. Two or three dark,
waving locks, which bLave stolen from
their fillet, flutter down upon
the brillisut wrap which envelops her
figure.
ivi, have yor
you no word of welcome
thess long
for me, aftor all yoars?"”
“Mr, Erosidoune, where is your wife?’
sm
Ab, Blvie, whom would I call wile but
you?”
A wondering expression arises in her
face; then she comprehends all, sud, as
po holds out his arms once more, she
uffers him to enfold her, nnresistingly,
in their fervent embrace,
“Oh, Gayl” she murmurs, brokenly,
“can you eyer forgive me for bringing
you all these years of pain?”
The next day a small party assembled
in the celebrated artist's apartments,
whom the world knows as *‘Miss El.
vert,” and before a white-robed minis-
ter Guy Erceldoune takes Elvie's hand
in his, and vows to love and cherish her
for life.
ber dear nephew's approach.
knows the glad surprise he is bringing
her,
They are a happy group this evening.
At Mrs, Trevor's knee, in
the strug.
home flve years ago. Not
Guy, He cannot bear to lose sight of
—— - —_———
Harmldss Tricks.
| lowing *‘tricks” as either new or bril
| liaut, we print them because now an i
| then a “*eateh” of this kind causes some
{little merriment on the part of the
young people at father's, mother or
uncle's expense,
Can you place a nNEWSpapsr
| floor in such a way that two persons cal
| stand upon it end not be able to
| one another with their hands? Auswer:
| Yes; by putting the paper in a door-way,
| one-half inside and the other ball out.
| side of the room, and © the door
| over it, two porsons can
| npon it and still be beyond cach other's
i reach,
Can you put one of your hands where
the other cannot touch it? Easily; by
| putting one hand om the elbow of the
{ other arm,
Can you place a pencil on the floor in
such a way that no oue cau jump over
{ it? Yes, if I place it close enough to
the wall of the room.
Can you push a chair throngh a finger
ring? Yes; by putting a ring on the
| finger and pushing the chair with the
floger,
You can put yourself through a key-
hola by taking a piece paper with
the word *“‘yonurseit” written upon it and
pushing it through the hole.
You ean ask a question that
| can answer with a by
“What does y-o-8 spell?”
You ean go out of the room with two
legs and return with six by bringing
along a chair with you,
sr I W——————
he Baffalo fa Colorados
MIOR
of
no cae
saying,
tip
a0,
The buffalo which has long been
known as the noblest animal native to
this region, has become almost extinet,
having been hunted to death, aud is
| tana and Dakota.
those domestic cattle.
mous for its magnificent proporiiors
and stately air, Boffalo can run no
faster than horses, and are thus easily
overtaken and captured, Hunters spring
| they always take the wrong course, and
are almost invariably captured.
| heads are very valuable, Bix years ago
| these heads sold for §7, now they sell
| for from $75 to $150. They are con-
| sidered complete without them. Last
| year an Eoglishman who was visiting
{ Colorado paid the exorbitant price of
| $250 for a pair of heads which he
| bought here, and considered the finest
| he had ever seen.
The buffalo in the mountains aro
| much darker than those on the plains,
| They are of a rich brown oolor, the
i 8 in their fur varying from the
| darkest to the palest brown. Bostween
| these shades there are many lovely
| golden hues of a deep color, which are
| never so well seen as when the skins are
spread out before an open, blazing fire,
| The reflection of the firelight brings out
| the varying shades as nothing else will,
| and makes them a subject of universal
comment among lovers of the beautiful.
tll ssa
Tattooing of a Japanese.
A Japanese when lie desires to be tat.
tooed goes to an artist with the design
he wishes to have indelibly imitated on
his bedy, The artist sketches the de-
sign more or less in full detail, as the
circumstances of the case may require,
on the skin of his patron. Then, taking
a wooden tool in which fine sewing tools
are firmly fized, the artist applies India
ink or red color made from cinnabar to
the points of the needles, holds the tool
in the nght hand, which rests on the
tnumb of the left hand, and proceeds to
puncture the skin with marvelous rap.
idity; pausing at intervals to take on the
needles a fresh supply of color. No
blood is drawn except sometimes when
deep shade is requisite, or when going
over the elbows and knees, Ina day a
skilful operator can complete a picture
requiring a few hundred thousands
punctures in a manner surprising for its
acouracy and varied delicate degree of
shading.
When the work is finished the skin is
a slight feverish feeling, toh soon
goes away, Lhe tattooed parts are never
{rritable or sensitive, aud there need be
At the
off like
FASHION NOTES.
~The embroidered harlequin shoe,
with harlequin stocking to match, is a
late English hoslery fancy.
~TLong gloves have many exquisite
ornamentations, such as lace Iinser-
tions, chenile, embroidery and hand-
painted designs,
~The present exhibits show some
most admirable effects in wide brim-
med hats of the Gainsborough style,
Some of them are covered with Jersey
cloth, some with lace and a few with
velvet, and long plumes are revived to
trim them,
—The stockings for full dress occa
sions are most elaborate and costly,
Bits of hand painting and lace confec.
tions are in some sewed on to the in-
step instead of being *‘let in,” which
requires much care and skill,
~-Neéw black spun silk stockings,
fashion of low evening shoes, are em-
in the front of the toe and
leg with white silk, the designs being
dots and squares, which have a pretty
lack stockings hold their favor
16 public,
s light-colored ones
Some
y they will nob crock, al-
gh all promise this virtue few pos-
and
dyehouses color
hut
silk gloves for the evening were
pretty and tastefully
] most lovely
sky-blue, gol
AOE embroidered
lige Kid
eam and straw
1 self-colored braid points
shades
lava
INE
number of serge
oz. however, are
That
3 are added to
and ela
mi
wit 3
cul i
111
ike
the b
immensely
ryt $i t
COALS, 18,
x
width
i width,
HORSE NOTES.
~-—p little Glanber’s salts will be zood
for your horse now,
~John Turner is to have Dilly Bab
ton, 1.183, again this vear,
—Ban Fox Is still favorite in betting
for the Kentucky Derby.
—Miss Russell, the dam of Maud 8.,
2.084, has been bred again to Belmont
—A hal? Landful of cake meal cack
day in tne horses’ feed wil ‘“‘slicken’
his coat.
-T'he brown stallion Horizon, foaled
in 1877, by Landmark, dam by Baccha
rometer, has been Imported into Illinois
by Messrs, Stedaker & Co.
—A call for a meetiug of the hors
vreeders of New Jersey has been issue
at Trenton, the design being
form a State Breeders’ Association.
~The book of the celebrated Englist
stallion Hermit, 1s full for the seasor
of 1886 at $1250 per mare. This is ar
unprecedented event in the history o
the English turf,
~Jazzie Dwyer, that was so seriously
injured at St, Louis last year, and i
was thought ruined, was backed by he:
“©
owner, E, Corrigan, to win $20,000 a’
New York a few days ago.
—rit Davis received an order lately
|
Messenger Chief
Mr, Davis has in his string.
ay »
— 3)
eo JHiasd
1 arrived in Cleveland on the
with 1ifleen
1th inst
iOh In
®e §
| seven of which bel
§ AY of Megas
ACUTER,
fulness at the waist-line, and h
straight folds to within five
the grount I'he unders)
immed with ruchi
wlow.
rn
ngs, 1
Ucing
i made up of very rich materials, elabor
i,
11 r at ab
LE Or satin adler
Lol
nner toliets
is of a trails
ul model ned over
veivet, something
of ruby like a
and under
by a deep lace flounce.
el ana summer
ars to see the most lavish displays of
| embroidery. All cotton materials will
| be very effectively, but not thickly,
| wrought, The present fancy is for
| sparsely set work, more like needle etch-
| ing than embroidery, Flounces forly
inches wide wili bave two-thirds of
their width covered by this
jue figures
n spring
;
rior
in conirasting colors,
will be popular, and also pongee hav-
lie
Hines,
ou
stones, are so much worn
vwittine and consequent
IWLIDE, ana yasequent
come dearer in price.
i possessors of diamonds
{ now find favor.
Even among
Rhine s
with an end terminating on the right
fan is fastened.
| in garniture 1s that of oxidized silver
| of the silver being set in the midst of
{jet beads of different sizes, cut to
| droop in flower shapes, or like bangles
| and sequins,
~The revived fashion of frayed-out
or “pinked” silk ruchings, enables a
choice of shaded colors in these trim-
mings, all selected with reference fo
the tones of the dress material, and
like a variation on it, in fact. A white
etamine had a foot ruching of brown
silk, which was shaded with strips of
olive into palest green and cream; and
this again deepened into pinkish yel-
low. An artistic fancy can thus be
gratified in blending its own choice of
trimmings instead of always taking
those that are ready-made,
—Ribbons and velvet ribbons furn-
ish another fancy in trimmings,
They are run upon dress-skirts to form
bayadere stripes and to define the
tucks in thin goods, making a lining to
thin tucks and hems, They are put as
bretelles and V-shaped trimmings upon
bodices and wraps, For stout figures
these bretelles and **V’s"” are taken
very long and narrow, reaching below
the waist-line in the back and thereby
very much diminishing the breadth,
while adding to the length of the waist.
~—A new and fancy wrap for early
Spring wear 1s a visite of Persian bro-
cade, onental embroidery and a heavy
corded silk. The silken sleeves are
doubled under to the height of the
underarm and held together by a gath-
ered cuff and a ruffle of embroidered
silk, The front of brocade is joined or
fitted to the back by two side fronts of
| corded silk, giving the garment a look
like a Figaro jacket. Each jacket
front 18 fastened to the back Ly the
shoulder seam and is sewed to the
sleeve as high as the bend of the arm.
where it stops. The muddle of the
back is of brocade and this centre piece
is finished at the lower edge with a
shell pleated flounce of embroidery, It
is trimmed with ribbons at the neck
and at the waist. The inside front ot
brocade looks like a full chemisetle,
and this, too, ends in an embroidered
flounce, arranged in shell pleatings.
The straight collar of corded silk is
$13
| able at Det
1 on July 17.
| land
| named and be
payabie
ast payment 1s 1
Auton
| been satisfactorily
! Breeze and the Gen
| Courses claimed 1
| third week in May-—and
| davs ago neither would
However,
Driving Course have co
different dates, viz.:
{and continuing four
3s 4s
iit
| will follo
i Breeze,
circles, gi
ie early winter
porting
Have
ale
| almost certain to re nan UNusSuAlY
interesting and profitable season. For
the Washinglon races 213 entries have
already been made, as against 142 in
1885: for the Maryviand club season atl
Pimlico, lasting four days, there are
144, as opposed to 114 a year ago, and
for the New York American ciub’s
meeting there are already a hundred
more engagements than when the lists
closed last year. A marked increase
in the number of entries for the Mon-
mouth park races 1s also poled, among
the many being the flyers of the most
reputable turfman in the Union. The
prospect of heavier purses has not been
without its effect upon the men who
own quick steppers as far west as Cali-
fornia. As for the Saratoga season,
the secretary of the association himseif
writes that quite all the old and many
new and noteworthy horses have been
entered,
-~The new English betting rules
adopted last month differ but little
from the rules in vogue in this country.
The only rule where there is a special
conflict is the third, and in that only a
part. The new rule says: “All bets
are play or pay, with the following ex-
ceptions: First, when (he nomihator
dies before the decision of the race;
second, when the race is postponed to a
future week or the conditions are
altered after the bets are made; third,
bets on matches; fourth, bets made
after the runming numbers are tele-
graphed about a horse that is not sub-
sequently under the staiter’s orders.”
Of these the fourth feature is covered
by Rule 20 of the betiing rales in force
at Jerome Park, Sheepshead Bay and
Monmouth. The third division is, in a
measure, covered by Rules 18 and 19 of
the same. The second division could
not well be enforced in this country,
owing to the custom, aud ofientimes
the necessity, of postponing races from
Saturday to Monday, The firstdivisjon
is a radical change from the previous
rules in this country and in England,
and, while it will no doubt please those
is
i