Come Home, Sweet Rose. The violet from "neath the snow Protrudes her head and kisses the day, Her gentle breath now whispers low And words like these her fips essay: Ob, low, 80 low, down deep i’ the snow I've lain and sighed for the sun's bright ay; When soft, so soft, he came from aloft And coaxed me to come and view the Jay. The swallow comes home to build her nest, The bee sleep; The weadow waves her flowery crest, The innocent buds through the branches peep. awakes from her winter's The garden resumes its brilliant hue, The flowers their wonted places take; But the bush whereon the rose once grew t Is clothed in grief and is loth to wake, fo a distant clime the rose has fled, Her tender leaves by strangers are sought, Another clime by her breath is fed, Her cheeks blush sweet for others, I wot. A Come home sweet rcse from the distant ’ clime, Come home sweet rose place, The garden vacant 80 long a time Lopgs for your blush, your smiling face. III, and take your THE CHILD KING. *"Vill you go over to Nankin with me, to-morrow?” nn vem A" one day, so tired, and said his head ached. And I tried to sake him keep still on the sofa, but he was restless, and he would go cut in the sunshine to see the chickens; it was a hot day in May, and I couldn’t make him keep a hat on; pretty soon he sort of crawled back into the kitchen and said his ‘froat’ was sore, and ‘fings kep’ goin’ round an’ round.’ Then I sent for Dr. Smith, and he gave me Some medicine and a brush and told me to put it on the inside of his throat, and rub some liniment on the outside. Bat Hally wouldn't let me, and he screamed and kicked so he choked up right away; 1 couldn’t do it, it huit him so, and he wouldn’t let me if I'd wanted to.”’ +] meant to send Susy away, but she never would stay with anybody but me, the little precious! I never could make her. So she sickened next day, and there couldn’t be anything done for her; there wasn’t a day between them. And now—now-—my house 1s like a grave all the time,” In the piteous burst of sobbing that that filled her heart and say, fallen into the pit | digged; it your children | had learned to obey you in health, they | i { She could not, deeply as she felt it; ‘ge!ghbor, Mrs. Peters. “You know got to go, so { thought you would like ‘to drive over and see your Aunt Bet- sey.” ‘Oh, I should, ever so much! but Dell has got to go to a plcnie, to-mor- row afternoon, and it’ll take me whole of the morning to iron ber white dress, hung out; and then there's make, she wants 'em fresh. “( mother!” fore the door flew open, ard in bounced a young girl of 12, with assurance and poise of 40, dressed in a braided cos- tume that implied a week's hard work from somebody, her light hair banged on her low forehead, cheap rings and bracelet arms, a gilt necklace round her sallow throat, over a wide frill lace, her whole air pert, tawdry, and disagreeable. the minister's wife, a loud voice, ‘‘Say! ought to have some son 80 1 1001 And''— Luelle says I'd little pies and + v run home to tell you.”’ Mrs. Peter's face fell, ee] t really see how I can, Dell. It's quite a piece of work to make them cream cakes, I can make some pie crust and fix it up for the pies.” “Oh, but I want the cream cakes! If vou make 'em to-might, the pies can wait till morning.” “But, Dell, I’ve got to get the break- fast and wash the dishes and make the beds and sweep, and then iron your white dress, and you Know there's sights of work on it, and you want the ruifles fluted, and’ — “Oh, can’t you get up real ea Mrs. Brown was indignant. proverb cautions us not to put a finger between the bark and the tree, but she did not remember it. **Why don’t you make the cake yourself, Della?’ she said. ‘‘When I was your age I could make cake, Can't you?” Della stared at ber scornfully; Mrs, Peters put in her word at once. “Oh. 1 haven't never asked it of her, Mis’ Brown. Dell's real delicate, and she loves to go; children ain’t children but once, and I want for her to have a good time. I'll feteh it round some- how, Dell, dear. You tell Aunt Bet- sey, won't you Mis’ Brown, how that I wanted to see her, but I really couldn't get over. much,” don’ 3. GY riy? ! | i i “weep with those who weep,’ and betake herself to the next call on her list, for Mrs, Brown was Mrs. Tibbetts was very glad to see her. “And how are you all to-day?” asked | “Oh, we're reasonable well, ali but | Nelly: she got throwed down at the | rink last night, and sprained her ankle real bad. I've expected all along some- i thing like that would happen to her.” | “Don’t you think itisa bad place | for girls to go anyway?” asked Mrs, Brown, “Land, yes! But all the young folks are possessed to go, and you can't stop sem. I wished to goodness the men | that bullt that rink had been further! There's all sorts go there, and they talk to everybody, and get familiar-like | with folks you wouldn't bave them Ther’s | about as much harm to a rink as there is to a rum hole, but it makes about as | much money; 80 you can’t stop ein; nobody can't.” “Why do you there?” ‘*Mercy! let your girls go | I can’t help ’em goin’. | 19 you pull + v em one way, the more they ‘other way. children to have a good time whilst they was young: there's troubles enough ahead of ‘em, so I've let ‘em run, and tisn’t to expect that I can up and stop 'em now.” There was no controverting that point, so Mrs, Brown said no more, The next house was Mr. Meeker’s. Mrs. Meeker stood at the window, watching with anxious eyes her oldest son. who was exper'menting with a new bicycle. »0) Mrs. Brown,” she said, looking over her shoulder, *‘come in, do; I can’t | go away a minute from the windew, I'm so afraid Charley'll fall and hurt himself. He's been crazy after a bicycle, and Mr. Meeker didn't know how to get one for h m--they're real gged and begged him I shouldn't have a minute's peace while | 20 = I’ve always wanted my . it, and that’s enough. What he wants We're behind with ceat; but Charley's got the length of marks. There was a tone of aggrieved motherhood in Mrs, Peters’s voice that warned her to keep silence; she said good-bye, the street, rung the bell at a handsome house standing in a well kept yard, that told its own story of wealth within. She was admitted to the parlor and warmly don’t know why he shouldn't have. Boys must be boys, you know, and 1 never did believe in making images of em, to do just so and be prim and proper all their days. Ob, oh, therel 1 i { i i i law. t But bardly had she began to talk with her friends when the door opened, wasn't. 1 do believe my nerves will be worn to ravelin's with that bicycle. Don’t go!” “[ won't stay now, Mrs. Meeker. I know you want to watch Charley. I | come some other time.” So, quite unattended, Mrs, Brown found her way to the door, and went | Miss | ages, who, after nodding at the visitor, or reluctantly shaking hands, at once monopolized the conversation. In vain did Mrs. and Miss Vincent struggle to be heard, . «0 Mary! I was trying to tell Mra, Brown'— “Well, ma, I've got to 20; would, and”’— “Oh, yes! You told Will Johns you'd 0, and you've got tol Just like a girl! qd" “Milly, ‘dear, Brown’ ~— “Well Aunt Sue, I must go if Mary goes, aud there's that picnic, apd” — 30 it went on a perfect Babel, which no present effort could silence, it had been so long the habit in this house for the elders to listen and the children to gpeak. I said I [ want to ask Mrs, i i ! i i i i the | usual civil inquiries, and then Miss | Sophronia opened the conversation. ** see you come from Mis’ Meeker's; | well, [ do pity that woman; she hasn't | a minute's peace for them children; | and here's Mis’ Bunnell, next door, is | just as bad, though she hasn't got but one, but her May is headstrong, now 1} tell you. Way, she goes all the time; | if tisn’t a dance, it's a picnic, or a ride, or a sail. She’s as impudent as a bum- | ble bee and as bumptious as a wren, | Why, t'other day, Mis’ Bunnell fou out that May was goin’ over nd | to 1 i 3 i she went but a few steps further to the house of a desolate woman, a widow, who had lost her two children a month sincejwithjdiphtheria. Mrs. Tenny burst into tears as she came nto the room, and Mrs, Brown put her arms about ber tenderly. “My poor friend!” was could say. +O Mrs, Brown, I can’t, I can’t be reconciled to it! 1 miss them every second. Fal used to come in so bright from school—his first year to go, you know; and Susy was always at my knee or on my lap, when she was awake: and in the lonesome nights 1 used to listen for their soft br ings, and put my hand to feel Susy’s lit tender face In the crib, and thank God I had them still, if their father bad left me."’ There was ‘nothing to say to th all that she feller, at 8 o'clock in th’ evenin’, cal- culatin® to come home by moonlight, | betwixt one an’ two in the mornin’, | and, naturally, she sot down her foot | She didn't | know the feller, but she knew real well Mis’ Brown, that piece just put on her sack and bunnet and walked right out of the door and off with her feller! If I'd been her ma, she'd have got a tocked door in her face when she come home," “0 Miss Sophronia; would have helped the matter? A father’s house ought never to be closed on a child, any more than our Father's, least of all when the child’s faults are the result of the parent's folly and weakness,’ **Well, mabbe, there's something in that, but it does seem to me that some- thing had ought to be done when a girl flies right In her ma's face like that!” “I'm afraid it is too Jate to do much at May’s age, but pray for ber.” “Land! you don't suppose Mis’ Bun- nell thinks May needs prayin’ for? Why, she thinks she’s about as nigh t a8 they make ’em; she's clean up with the child, all the one she ever had. It you should so much as hint about prayn’ for her, 1 guess you'd raise a muss do you think that right oft!” # Mrs. Brown tried to control her face, but found it hard. Miss Sophronia’s air of fine scorn was irresistible, She changed the subject by saying, “I am sorry Mrs, Phelps has gone away; I meant to have called on ber.” “‘Well, you can if you want too; she ain't gone,’’ said Miss Sephronia. in an acrid tone, - Not gone! Why, she had wanted So much to see her sister, I thought nothing would hinder her.” “I know it; she hadn't seen Mis’ King for three years, but Marian went and asked two girls and the brother to one of 'em to come this week and stay till after the Fourth, and Mis’ Phelps wasn’t goin’ to leave ’em there alone | to raise hudy; besides that, her hired girl ain't competent to do for company; but that’s the fashion the children rew] nowadays; 1 feel thankful to good- ness every day that I wa'n’t never be- guiled into the marriage state, and I haven’t got no youngsters awalkin®’ over INVENTIVE CRANKS, A Patent Lawyer tells of Some Fun- ny Experiences with His Clients, ——————— “Po I run across many cranks?’’ said a well-known patent lawyer in answer to a reporter’s question, Well, young man, all cranks are not inventors, and possibly all inventors are not cranks, but a good many of them are badly hit, Now there is a German who lives on the Sonth Side, one of the most intelligent men I ever met, with no sign of cranki- ness about him except in one thing. He wants to patent a process for making gold. For over a year he has been drop- ping into my office and trying to get me to get his papers for him. ‘All right,’ I'll say, ‘explain me Your process and I'll make out your appheation.’ «+Oh, no,’ he says, "no one shall ever know that but myself. know that in the Patent Office even.’ And he will get away. I have asked me and makin’ a door mat of me! Not but what I might be like Miss Perkins, | to be sure, ef 1'd had a nevew, thanks | be to praise I ha’n’t! But I stepped in there t'other day, and If that WOIDAD | wasn't a-goin’ round the keepin’ room | on all fours with her sister's boy astride of her back, she asayin’, *'Oh, do stop, | ot her up and a screamin’, “Go "long, Go 'iong hossy.”’ And she did | im up with a; on the My! didn’t he boller, But I'm glad 1 That night Mrs, Brown detailed had seen and heard in her round of calls to her husband as | they sat together by the study tire. His | face clouded darkly, but he did not tell her what heavy thoughts pierced the fu- | ture, and saw, as in a vision, impend- ing trouble for the land and the people All that he did when draw a he Scripture that was his counsel for both lives, “Woe ng is a And iet all the people say, Amen. - a -_ ROYAL EQR ESTRIANISM. Some of the Members of British Roy- alty Who Are Fond of Horses. } - BANU To ret aco $ best x conrt ang long and court has and three saddle room and The coach house court is Ww ¢ t . table feet stalls for forty-one horses for t CArTIAges, shel and many other necessary buildings. The loose box court is s¢ venty-five feet long and thirty-five feet wide, with ten boxes and the needed rooms for forage, etc. In one of the rooms of the mews are Russian sleighs, or “droshkys,”’ presented by the Emperor Nicholas to the Queen. Also there i able French open carriage p Louis Phillippe. It | far from and is very shi and gilded looking, as are most French con- veyances. When we are shown the roy- are never unblanketed, This is against the rules. nearly all English horses, with a few Seoteh ones and a few so-called Ara- bout seventy are standings wantv.fon wenty-four OORS PWS They have thin, lithe-looking legs and Never were seen such daintily-housed animals, Their attrac usually Wind- forty Wight. and every thing is sweet and tive. One hundred horses are at her Majesty's service at sor. and of these she takes about to Osborne Castle, Isle of Her Majesty is as fond is of dogs, or, indeed, of all domestic animals, — I ———— [ YIELDED him the palm,” as the old lady said when she spanked her erring son. isn AANIE “Youn uncle is getting better, I hear.”’ “Completely cured, my dear boy; ac- tive as at 20 years.” «It would be funny if you should die before him; then he would be your heir.”’ “Oh no.” “How's that? Wouldn't he be your [ddd “Yes; but that wouldn't be funny.” First Boy—'My ma play with you, because nothing but a 2» Second Boy 80's your father a shoemaker.” First “Ma says he's a manufac. pairs of says I musn’t your father is him why he didn’t make some gold him- self, eret is too valuable, gel i tell me. One of the great peculiarities of inventors is their suspicious natures, can’t say, positively, but about half who come to me seem to think am. They geen Oo carm he ides that I sit up here like a spider in a We just waiting to steal some one’s idea and the peopls b, + About a week aj young man craned i 1 looked WAS Aone, under the safe, an and behind 3 I to the i satisfied next room. that came up to ‘I've got in you t less now nissioner ol on this, suit he went, win sinoe, bring models here which 3 work. because they don’t want the whole plan. They want a but want to keep their pr “It is surprising MOEPER SECT g how many applica- ventions. days Here : ALO a bstone Was tfallen were a whole $0 mea working rm, upon which he business, nn Came month or the model of ¢ wanted a pat “See here, said 1, Sli. ‘that like a machine patent years ago, 4s a washing-machine.’ “10h. ves.! he replied. ‘It was pat- ented as a washing-machine, but I want to patent it as a churn and then on sale among the farmers used for both, don’t you see.’ “iWell,’ said I, ‘you'd better take | that home and remodel it so that it can be used as a child’s crib also, and then patent it. I'd just as soon have my but- ter made in a crib | there is no more reason why the baby | shouldn't Le put to sleep in a chum than there is that the family linen shouldn't be washed in it.’ I didn’t take his case, and can’t say whether he got his patent or not.” looks very i ut six much el g out it put it ' l out 0 De * ABOUT DRUG TAKERS. The Use of Quinine in War. With a view of learning something | about the drug business a reporter visit~ od one of the popular druggists of Den- ver. whom he found busily engaged in | preparing a prescription. After wait | ing several moments the gentleman gave | inquiries: | “Now, there is a compound that is | composed of just four ingredients, { One of these ingredients cost at whole- sale exactly 2 cents; the second 1 cent, the third 2 cents and the fourth 3 cents, making in all a cost of 8 cents for that compound.” “How much will you charge your customer for that prescription?” “Seventy-five cents.” cent.” er pays 67 cents of the 75 for my exper- jence as an apothecary. Men in other professions do the same, and I can show you a fair comparison. For in- stance, a physician will look at your tongue, feel of your pulse, and demand a fee of from $2 to $5. It is the same with a lawyer. You visit lis office, ob- tain his advice on a single matter, and occupy his time for about 15 minutes, and he will charge you £10 or $156. Now, I think we druggists have per formed as much service as anybody, and all T ask is the small pittance of 5 cents. We prefer the —— . ' business to selling patent medicines, be. cause the former is the more profitable of the two branches of our trade.” “{s the sale of patent medicines de- elining or decreasing?” +] ean reply to that question both in | the affirmative and negative, Patent medicines are like the craze in gar- ments, They become fashionable amid may grow out of fashion. It is not al- ways the best medicines that have the largest sale, A great deal depends up- on how they are advertised and brought before the public, A few years ago a man prepared a patent pain annihilator, It was a sort of stuff that deadened | pain temporarily, but it was not a per- | manent cure. It was in fact injurious, for it tended to produce paralysis. | proprietor made a fortune in a very thoroughly. His pain annihilator was used in almost every family. But it bad | its rise and fall like the Roman empire, | and now I don’t think there is any of i | manufactured; in fact I know it 1 is $01 | to be found in the market.” “What drugs have the largest sale?” “Well, I may include in the list qui- the various preparations of opi . valerian, and-—well, ish me to go through of d v nine, 1 1 | Caionmel i or PUES. inne, i PIES AND SANDWICHES. They Were Too Expensive, So He ma Not Buy, A pompous man, with flowing sie whiskers that would have trailed on the ground but for the lapels of hig faded Prince Albert coat, stepped into a cheap eating house recently, and sur veyed the place with a critical air. Be- hind the counter was a man with hands as thick as hams, and 8 nose that bore evidence that the dregs of many quart flasks had settled in it. He was accustomed to wait on dock wallopers,’ “What have vou got to eat, me boy?” gid the pompous man, with an Euvg- lish accent on tne words “what” and veoat.” “] ain't got to est nothin,” re- sponded the lunch counter dignitary. surlly. 1 “Ah, | haven't, | know.” “Naw, Tdidn’t know, or I wouldn't | said so. *Tain’t my style.” { “I meant to say, me boy, a person can buy to { know,” | +A feller kin most always buy enny- | thing he wants, ef he’s got the’ stuff, L reckon.’ “The stuff, me boy? Ah, y-a-a-8, 1 understand. But vhat do you keep to sell in the way of stuff to eat? That's what | mean.” “Why didn’t yer say so, then?” “That exactly what I've been trying to say, dear boy; exactly what I’ve been trying to say. What have have you got to eat—I mean what have you got for gale that a cove can eat?” reiterated | the pompous man, with bis blandest * i / no, me boy; of course you 1 didn’t mean that, don’t ye bi. ye . what eal, have n express the feeling Ww ithout when i { : jcating d “} | blame for habit, preserits for people who cone without it just as well as not. valid is sleepless or nervous, and opium is given in small By and by larger doses are required, under similar circumstances, and finally the patient | finds that it is almost impossible to get along without the drug. The opium | habit is an expensive one, and makes | wealthy people poor. In this respect it is a great deal more of an enemy to the human race than strong drink, and has more of a tendency to injure a man’s | business capacity than intemperance.” “There have been a great many | changes in the drug business during the | past 25 years. When I was a boy the | Thompsonian system of treating disease | took the people of this country by { storm. Packages of preparations of | roots and herbs }.epared according to | the Thompsonian formula were to be | found on the shelves of every drug store. | The name of this medicine was known | in every household. Now we seldom | hear it mentioned. The changes in the | drug business during a period of 25 | years are simply wonderful.” ring think because they are 80 3 GOSeS, i ie | Largest Room in the World. | The largest room in the world under one roof and unbroken by pillars is at St. Petersburg. It is 020 feet long by 150 in breadth. By daylight it is used for military displays, and a battalion can completely maneuver in it. Twenty | thousand wax tapers are required to light it. The roof of this structure isa gingle arch of iron, and it exhibits re- markable engineering skill in the archi- tect. 1 ———— I UA —— SpenreT of the philosopher’s stone How to raise the Bartholdi pedestal without being able to raise the neces sary funds. A YOUNG boy who recently left his St. Paul home to a preparatory school, is not much taken with the He is suffering lis frst case and natarally desires 1 Piesandwiches,” snorted the man iter, “Pie and sandwiches, ah. good. What do you sell the pie “Monev.’’ “Ah, certainly. | much?” “Ten cents.” “And the sandwiches?’’ “A nickel.” “May 1 ask what have?’’ “] ain't got n« “Yes, yes, [ see.” of pie have you, dear boy: vPie, pie, an’ piel” ripped out the funch a suddenness sent a zephyr man’s flowing stepped back a few the distance to the Very for?” But 1 mean how ginds of ple you y objections,” what Kinds counter man with emphasis that and i through whiskers. | paces, calculated door, and 1a ised, “And you say the pie is ten cents?’ “Yes.” “And the sa “Yes? “Well,” said t “‘you can let 8 Jdwiches a nickel?” ie me have small sandwich.” The lunch couuter man began 0 the sandwich. “That pomp IIR a sand is, dear added toward aoor, you can it for nothing.’ He did not get the sandwich, but he would have got it somewhere int region of the neck if he had not dodged the exact moment he boy.” a8 he sidled the i { 30) pompous ip nan, ¢ ue out the door al 441 Li. -—- DIAMONDS NOT ALWAYS RICHES. How a Few Stones, by Being Reset Often, Serve for Effect. A gentleman walked into a jaweler’s store in Maiden Lane, New Y ork, re- cently, and banding over three diamond shirt studs asked to have them reset. fie wanted a pew design, and min- utely described how the work should be done. “You have no dea,” said the jeweler, “how many persons Cole in here to change the setting of the gems. A stud 1s made to serve in a cuff but. ton. a collar button or a ring, accord ing to the ner’s fancy. But this practice of changing the setting is not caused all the time by fancy. There is A show of wealth, you know, goes a long ways toward bring- ing it in. | “Evidence of prosperity is a sure | road to success nowadays. I know of one man who has had five diamonds set in as many different ways in one year, The stones are good ones and are worth the work; but, you see, he makes his acquaintances think he is loaded down with diamonds. For a | iew months Le will wear plain diamond | shirt studs; then he will have a set of | fancy enameled studs, different finger | rings and cuff buttons. A man who | can afford so many diamonds must | have money, 18 the conclusion people | come to, and he is thus given chances | to make more money, which otherwise | he would not have. Ladies do the same thing, but from a different mo- tive. Of course with some of the men vanity has something to do with the matter, but with woman it 1s all vanity and hardly ever caprice. “Same of the designs are very unique. The man I referred to awhile ago is always studying up some new and unusual design for the setting of his gems, Not long ago he Was Wear- ing two shirt studs. The upper one was a fine enameled gold piece made in the form of a man hanging to a tree with two diamond eyes starting out of the head. The whole an inch long, and the t his diamonds were usel. The second stud was a little child with an eagle plucking out his . The diamond glistened in the eagle’s beak at the ith the child’s Q
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers