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