Reaping. Along the east strange glories burn, And kindling lights leap high and higher, As morning from the azure urn Tours forth her golden fire, From rush aod reed, from bush and brake, Float countless jeweled gossamers bat glance and dazzle as they shake In every breeze that stirs. A bird, upspringing from the grain, Flutes loud and clear his raptured note That Mingles with as blithe a strain As ¢’er thrilled human throat. Amid the tasseled ranks of corn She stands breast high, Ler arms are bare; And round her warm, brown neck the morn Gleams ou her lustrious hair. he sickle flashes in her hand; The dew laves both her naked feet; she reaps and sings, and through the land she sends her carols sweet. Ibe wind breathes softly on her brow; To touch her lips tall blossoms seek, And as the stricken columns bow, They kiss her glowlong cheek. D happy maiden! in her breast Guile hath no place, her virgin sleep Vain thoughts ne'er troubles; she is blest; $he hath no tears to weep, 3he knows nor longs for prouder things; Her simple tasks are all her care; 3he lives and loves and reaps and sings, Aud makes the world more fair, TSR oroval.”’ The elder sister looked at a couple of ypen letters lying on the writing desk olied: have chosen I can answer you.” “You ought to know without being told.” Stella laughed. ‘‘Clarence sourse,”’ Belle Lawson looked serious. “Stella, I am sorry. Not that I bear Clarence Henshaw any ill-will, but, wife. nave been reared in ease and comfort. Follow my advice and marry Harry Lakeman. Stella shook her head. “No, Belle; I wouldn’t marry Henry “cher than be is.” aged, “It is a lovely place.” and 1 would like to live there.” ing, kissed the smooth, white brow, while she said: “Don’t be too hasty, Stella. sovet this pretty home of Henry Lake- man’s accept it.” » cottage with him to a mansion with Henry. Miss Lawson turned to the window with a sorry look. Some sweet dream perhaps, but she held it worse than fol- y to indulge in regrets. Love, in her sstimation, was no balance in the scale for wealth. “Stella,’’ she continued very gravely, ‘I have acted the part of a mother for nany years; my wish has ever been that jou form a wealthy marriage. I know wd that you worship beaatiful apparel. Henry l.akeman can give you all of ‘hese. Charles Henshaw cannot. As his wife you will be subject to all mao- a common way, stint and economize and manage the best you can. How Think well of it. I will let you have *" ‘lage ing the edge of the wrapper to her rosy of the hand, “*Idonot, yousee. I won't »e sorry,” murmured she, turning the snvelope to look at its superscription. “Your happiness is within your own grasp, Stella. You'll recall my words ome day, Lawson left her. swn room and touched the bell in great haste. “You will oblige me by malling this at once.” she said to the servant who answered her call, handing him this and blushing, **be careful of this,” put- ting another letter into his hand. “Ieave it with no one but the person to whom It 1s addressed.” “There'll be no mistake, miss,” And that night a perfumed note lay on Clar- ance Henderson’s pillow, and be, fool- ish fellow, was t to the up- per heaven of delight. Three months later they were married They were a happy and hopeful couple. This lite upon which they had entered was like a new and unexplored country but Clarence meant to work hard and felt little or no doubt in regard to their future. He had been a head bookkeeper for many years and had the promise of something better yet the coming sea- son. They rented a house in the pleas- ant of the city, kept a servant and Stells wore the handsome clothes which nad been provided at the time of her marriage. But toward the end of the first year of their wedded life his firm was. sald to be under heavy liabilities marriage robe. “I shall find something by-and-by,” It was at this trying that a little speck of humanity was put into Stella’s arms, and its feeble cry told that the responsibility of was here, “I'm the happiest man alive,” Clar- ence exclaimed, caressing baby boy, *‘Let pride go to the dogs, Stella,” remembering that now his re- 'sponsibility was greater than before. “They are in want of workmen on the pew city hall, D’ll take my hammer- it will give us bread,” She ought to have been contented ought to have thought with pride of the man who would thus brave the world’s opinion, He went out In the early morning and came home late at night, his handsome face glowing with love, But the very thought that her husband was brought down to the level of a com- mon laborer hurt her. Sister Belle had said that her tastes were luxurious, and she wanted a pret- ty home now and fine apparel for her- self and baby. The people of the world in which she had lived had never to count their money to know if they could buy a new dress, She had never had to make the best of circumstances and why should she now? The little privations she had en lured worried her, and in a little while the sweet tem- pered woman became moody and down- hearted. “Stella is homesick,” the husband would say; *‘the care of the baby is too much for her I must make some money,’’ and his hammer rang with re- sulk. “How can you expect me to live | among such surroundings?’ was her | appeal, when he begged her to cheer { up. **It 1s cruel in you,’ she sobbed. “I want to go home to my own friends. 3” | he drew her tenderly toward him with- out a word, but there was a 100k pite- ous to see in his handsome eyes, | cama a day a little later when Ib did | The city-hall was finished, and Clarence must look for something new. Jennie who had been Freddie's nurse, had to They had moved about a great deal, hoping to find a place in which *“These people are all alike, you know | when he suggested that they move. It was unwomaaly in her to say this, | she knew, and she thought to run after her husband and beg | only increased her vexation. | “Yon cross little thing!” she claimed, impatiently. *‘Take that!” laying her hand heavily on the little and fell into hysterical weeping. Freddy with the prints of her fingers £till oa | his neck, tried to climb into her lap, but she pushed him away roughly. replied, sharply. ‘Oh, dear! taken good advice I would not have married a poor man.” “You are not yourself this morning, | shed tears as he saw the red marks on | the baby’s neck. “Do you think I cau endure every- thing?’ she cried spitefully, “You are nervous and tired, dear. Come here.”” And he put out his hand to clasp her, but she turned away from him and left the room. Something wet fell on the baby’s head, and he pressed him closely to his bosom as he caught the sound of her | sobbing. “I have heard of something new this morning, Stella, and I'm going to New York by the next traid.” “You are always hearing thing new,” was her quick reply, “but | what does it amount to?” “I am hoping for something better and think I've found it now.” He rocked Freddy to sieep, put him into his erib, then went to the door of h:s wife's room, “Are you going to kiss me good-by, | Stella?” he asked. *‘I may be gone a day or two.’ “*No,” she replied, coldly, *‘you’ll be back soon enough.” “Bur I might never return, you know.” | two with the same old story.” kissed the little sleeper again and again, “He'll come back before he's really door, but a turn in the from sight. He had gone, without bidding her good-bye. “Well, we've been married toward the she said, by way of consolation, yet there was a terrible pain at her heart. She sat still till Freddy awoke, then with a cry of anguish she ran across the hail to the nearest neighbor with — “Please come, Mrs, Wilson. My baby is dying.” rs. Wilson came, for though rough in manner she was kind in heart, “He is in a fit,” she sald, the moment she saw the chlid, “Bring me some water and help get off hus clothes,” Stella obeyed. “Hold him so, till I run home and get some medicine,” she said, putting him in the bath. ‘‘Such women as you ain’t fit to be mothers,” she continued, Sgturning with her hands full of bot- “I have 80 many {iriels to bear,” moaned Stella. ’ “Nonsense,” replied Mrs, Wilson, “You have a pretty home if it was put in order.” “I'm used to a better.” “Young people can’t begin where the old one’s left off. They must make their own homes.”’ “I never understood it so. My sister advised me never to marry a poor man." “And so you are finding fault and , when your husband is y | ever since they came to live in house. “My baby will get well, won't he?” was said pleadingly, and the poor thin sobbed again as if her heart woul break, “Yes, indeed.” * And you will stay with me through the night?” forgetting that she was one of *‘those people.” . “I'd stay with you a whole blessed week,” replied the true-hearted Mrs. Wilson, “if I could make you 8 wife worthy of your husband.” “Tell me what I shall do and I'll do it willingly and without complaining.’ All through the long night while Freddy lay between life and death Mrs, Wilson worked over him bravely, and told the girl mother chapters In her own life experiences. There were pas. sages over which Stella wept bitterly, and when morning dawned, giving back the child from danger, in place of the fickle, unreasonable woman, there was one ready to meet life's work with firm purpose and strong heart. She tidied up each apartment, and instead of going about in u dowdy wrap- per put on a fresh dress, arranged her hair becomingly, and changed the pucker about her mouth for her own rosy lips. “You're a pretty little thing,” Mrs. a knot of blue ribbon in her balr., **See | after baby now. I'll look in every now 1 will come back to you. Your husband ! will be here to-morrow morning.” { “Yes,” Stella replied, with a bright After all it was a long time to walt, She was so impatient to tell him—and she would kiss him as muny times as he wished. “Yes, indeed!” she exclaimed, joy- fully, bending over Freddy's crib, “we'll kiss papa a hundred thousand times, won't we. dear?” “I do wish Clarence would come,” “What clock was on the stroke of 12. “What | 1f"’—and her heart lay like lead in her | if he never | comes back!’ she murmured, going into her own room. *Mrs. Wilson,” she called “where is my husband?’ In an instant ths dear, good soul was | baside her, resting a hand tenderly on | She shrank from saying it had been a | boat,” had been her conclusion. i Stella caught at her arm, the sound | with a cry she fell, Poor, tired, inex- parienced wife and mother! Was the ordeal so ordered? With the help of a | bed. “*Run for the doctor,” she said to “But you don't know—"' “I do,” she interrupted. Henshaw will have a run of “Mrs. fervous When Stella opened her eyes again it was nearly night. She knew no one about the bed, but talked of Clarence | and Freddy and sister Belle. She was going to help her husband now. She could earn money by teaching music or painting, “‘or might have a few pupils in dancing,” she added. “But forgive | me for striking——-"'" and her arms were Late that eveniog Clarence cams in sight or home. Contrary to Mrs. Wil. son's conjectures, he came by a differ- He had thought to tele- graph, but ‘‘Stella won't worry,” he said, “if 1 am late.”” The lght faded from his eyes and his face turned ghast- ly white when he looked into the rooms. “Both gone,”’ he, groaned, walking **No, no,” Mrs. Wilson said, comfor- tingly. ‘‘Baby’s better and your wife will come out of this. All she needs 1s What could we do if such as she were not stationed all along the walks It was painful to listen to the wild talk. “If [ might endure it,” Clarence | said so many times, When at last Stella | “Clarence,” she said, very softly at first; *‘Clarence,” she repeated, putting | her arms about his neck, *'if you'll for- | give me for striking Freddy I'll Kiss you, O, 80 many times!” Foolish fellow, he cried like a baby, “Listen, Stella,” he said as soon as he could command his voice. “Listen! | I did get the situation, and you can | have everything you want,” touching | his lips to ber cheek and forehead; “and | you are going to have such a pretty | house in Brooklyn!” “All 1 want is your love,” clasping | him close, “and that Freddy get well. | I'm ready to be & poor man’s wifel” : ——— A API Home Rule for Montenegro. The prince of Montenegro has au- thorized the publication of the ‘time honored laws and usages,’ which con- stitute the only legal code of his primi. tive domain, The collection has been published in St. Petersburg, and reads like the decalogue of some eastern shepherd tribe. Every householder is the presumptive coadministrator of his neighbor's property, and is supposed to aid them in the enforcement of paren. tal discipline, the completion of neces- sar repairs. arious offenses are published by the temporary loss of the privilege of carry~ ing arms. Drunkards and rowdies are confined to their houses for periods varying from one to four weeks, tho with the that they shall not from attending shooting. debates affec the Cantalla Lay) an Indians Spearing Fish. For the frst time In ten years the Seneca Indians living on the Cattarau- gus Reservation a few days since drew # brush seine In the presence of fully 1,000 white spectators, who gathered at a place known as Big Bend, ten miles from Warren, on the Allegheny r.ver. For a week previous to the drawing the Indians had Industriously ‘‘withed” with evergreen boughs a cable which was long enough to reach from shore to shore of the stream. When this brush seine was completed teams of horses drew one end across the river, and then the fun was ready to begin. The shores were lined with specta- tors, and the Clarendon band furnished emivehing music. Horses were hitch- ed Lo either end of the great green cable, which was fully eight feet in gan walking along the shore to the head of a riffle, a quarter of a mile below, where a rude dam in the shape of the letter L, with the upright leading up the stream, had been constructed. Standing on the seine to submerge it was a crowd of Indians, each of whom violently beat the water with boughs, other Indians wading just behind the seine and observing the tactics of those in front. The object of dragging the seine, of beating the water, of the shouting and splashing, was to drive dam, and the result amply repaid the effort. As soon as the seine stopped against ans put off into the dam and with spears began to capture their finny victims, geon, pike, pickerel, bass, salmon, and pale a fish, cited crowd was never seen. The spec- cheered, the band made all the noise of which it was capa- ble, the Indians were nearly beside themselves in thelr eagerness to make the weariness, after having taken fish which In the evening, by the light of burning heaps of wood, the spolls were divided, and the celebration closed witha “green corn dance,’ which lasted late into the morning. It 1s just possible that those who en gaged in the slaughter wil find tha! fun of that kind comes high, as the law strictly prohibits the course which the Indians and their white allies took, and a disposition has been manifested to prosecute those who In such a whole- of a was habitants, But the exhibition semi-savage mode of taking fish ne A Animal Life. Principally these four things—{amine, injury and death; things not altogether un- known to man, but to which ing from hand to mou mo cases upon each other, to weather, bodly violent in in many more especi- ti i Li, ana are t is undoubtedly true that every year a certain number of animals are condemned out of existence by the pressure plus population, and be attended by a certain amount suffer- ing. ut it exceedingly doubtful whether the suffering is of that intense and dramatic kind y populary as- sociated with the struggle for existence and the working of natural selection. It is not the case of a strong, healthy animal going out alone into the wilder- ally liable. to starvation, § BP Of Sur- this process must is vation. It is a process which takes ef- fect principally on the very young or the very old, The very young perish because their mother is too ill nourish- ed herself to supply them, or because are not somewhat before their full time. In the one case life 1s stopped before much case it is stopped after the greater part of its pleasure is past; in either case with very much less than the maximum In the majority of the more than equal the rate of infant mor- tality in England 200 years ago, a rate mat- ter of course. ———— I SS Why he Resigned. I got my information from a young man who has been for some time a brakeman on a suburban passenger train of the Northwestern railway. He isa very efficient and popular man, and when he told me he meant to resign 1 asked him what the reason could be, “Well,” he said, “I have been told by the super- intendent that I stand no chanee of promotion, as I didn’t begin right. 1 was fool enough to think that if I took this place and behaved myself I would “But I find that I have been euchred by a sort of civil service rule that is en- forced in all the companies. This rule is that in order to become a conductor of a passenger train, a fellow must be- gin as a brakeman on a freight train, then he must be a brakeman on a pas- senger train, as I am now; then a con- ductor on a freight train, and then a conductor on a passenger train. If a fellow begins as a brakeman on a pas- senger train, the way I did, he will not be promoted in a century. I never knew it until the other day, but I am told that this rule is so well established that the company do not care to violate it, except in case of obvious necessity, So I guess I will go.” ean A Ai ~Up to the HORSE NOTES. ~The Bard has earned the title of the “‘crack’’ 3 year-old of the season. ~Join Condon has a 2-year-old colt by Messenger Chief in Crit Davis’ hands that paced at a 2.40 gaiv recently. “Knapsack’® McCarthy got a present of $500}from Mr, Long for bis admirable driving of Belle F. in the £10,000 race. —A sore shin kept J, Q. from start ing in the $10,000 race at Hartford, and Spofford’s cold, contracted at Albany, kept him out, —Sam Emery and Joe Cotton, who have been running in partnership under the firm name of Emery & Cotton, have disselved relationship —John B. MeFerran decided, after the sale catalogue and advertisements of Glenview Farm were given to the public, not to price or sell any of the stock at private sale. Everything will tober 12, y7ithout reservation. — Brighton Beach has gone back to steeplechases and hurdle races, and book-making, which was tried a couple of weeks ago, instead of auction pools, soon gave way to auctioneering, and now the auctioneer has again stepped down and ont in favor of the penciller. —Guy Wilkes, by George Wilkes, at the Santa Rosa Fair, on August 21, re- duced the California stallion record to 2.155. One of the compztitors was John A. Goldsmith drove Guy grapher of Hartford, attended the Char- ter Oak races, and took a number of in. antee stakes Belle F. and Oliver K. made an exceedingly close finish, the Mr. Tucker was right in line with the a 2.15 clip, the picture was taken. Conley were the purchasers of Oliver The sale was consummated before the great race at Hartford. Forbes horse's engagements, or they would Forbes and winnings In the stake race. is $17,000 richer, —Prince Wilkes was known to be a ive Oliver K, one of the worthiest members of his trifle. This performer is lacking 5 the brightest Lights of his type. Hon, August Belmont has made a handsome offer for Snedeker’s colt, Kingston, the Select winner at Mon- mouth. Despite the fact that the offer was sufficiently large to have formed a “terrible temptation” to a majority of men lucky enough to own so good a colt, it was respectfully declined. Mr. Belmont’s offer for Kingston, | coupled with his engagement and im- | portation of the English jockey Luke, leaves no room for doubt in regard to | bis connection with racing. He is in | to stay. ~The result of the September stakes | at Sheepshead Bay on the 2d of August, { places The Bard at the top of the | 3-year-olds. Carrying 1256 pounds, he galloped In the easiest possible way, the winner by a dozen lengths. The | distance was a mile and three-quarters, | and the time 3.05, but 4 seconds behind | the record made by Glidelia, a 5-year- | old, carrying 116 pounds, Considering the ease with which The Bard won, and the weight he carried, it was a remark- ably good performance, . ~Probably the surprise of the race | [for the $10,000 purse at Hartford, Conn.,] was the chéstnut gelding | Prince Wilkes, who was three times | second to the winner, and in the fourth heat became so dangerous that Forbes | was obliged to drive out Oliver with | won by little enough. When it is also | borne in mind that the Prince was | drilwing thirty pounds overweight, and | that he is yet only a youngster, hus per- | formance becomes really remarkable. f | At Springfield, recently, Jack Feek, | while working Alroy, met with an ac- | cident. He was going along the back- | streteh the right way of the track, and | had the pole, as the law directs. He | was ‘busy watching Alroy’s action, as {he was experimenting a little with | weights, and did not notice a little | dried-up French Canuck coming toward | him with a small, black stallion. The { Canuck was driving according to ancient law, and Feek looked up just in time to see what struck him. The black stallion went down; the Canuck went over his head. Feek put his foot in his near wheel and broke two spokes, then fell on the track, and away went Alroy. Some one had the presence of mind to ring the judges’ bell, and Alroy stopped when he reached the was two —A rather curious affair occurred at During the aiter- cation between Spellman and Wethers, little Bender, who was to ride Lucy H., the scales to weigh Su, FASHION NOTES, —Hoslery with fine hair-line checks is shown by the leading houses, Velvet and heavy silk, beaded or plain, are used for revers upon thin materials, ~Dresses of striped satin surah have the skirt trimmed with narrow gath- ~The hair is worn very high, or in basket plaits very low on the back of the head, Puffs and coils are arranged high on the head. — Riding habits are worn with white shirt fronts, Low-crowned silk hats are the correct headgear for riding. although the derby is often seen. —A tea-gown of yellow crepe de train of surah over which Fine chantilly —Vlastrons of velvet, bordered by braces of passementerie and lace, or of colored or black galloon, covered with beads and bugles, finished below the waist with coquilles of lace, are digni fied by the name of mantle, —Large surah handkerchiefs are worn with jackét bodices They are simply put about the neck and consti n this way great variety may be had with a dress of neutral tint. —Dresses for girls under 13 are made with full skirts, laced over a The material of which the guimpe 1s made forms the —(iros grain is again in favor, Some of the new costumes have a polonaise, | fully draped at the back and open from the throat to the foot of the skirt, | showing chemisette and front of skirt of exceedingly fine wool crape of a | color in eontrast to the polonaise, - _A high-crowned hat for a ltile girl is of blue and fawn mixed straw. It is trimmed in front with loops and | ends of blue and fawn ribbon, Three large bows with cords surround the | crown. A high hat, with the crown of | openwotk straw, has the brim turned | up at the left with a cluster of yeliow roses with their leaves. The trimming —A toilet of white lace opens over a kilted shirt of white crape. The loose blouse bodice has a pointed yoke at the | front and back, trimmed with rows of | narrow satin mbbon. A broad satin | sash passes through straps of this ribbon and falls in long loops and ends | nearly te the bottom of the skirt. —T'he most fashionable water-prools of the moment are covered with shot and brocaded silk, and they are So | pretty; they serve also for dust cloaks. The newest stockings worn at the re- cent gay gatherings were exactly the shade of the dress, with black lzce in- | sertion let in the front. Sometimes this insertion is embroidered; but itis the shape of this front trimming which is pow improved upon; it exactly fol- | Jows the form of the shoe. —A dress of striped foulard has a plain skirt. The drapery in front is pointed and reaches nearly to the bot- | tom of the skirt; at the back it hangs in graceful folds quite 10 the edge of | the skirt. The jacket bodice, with wide revers, reaches to the waisl line | and opens over a white walstooat. A | large button on either side secures the | jacket to the waistooat. In fans the attractions are many, | those of gauze or lisse have taken the fancy; they can be purchased to match the dress. The scented-wood sticks | are seen from end to end through the | gauze; some are edged with lace, others | are dantily painted in Watteau Isnd- | scapes or Japanese designs and are all | are lovely. Then come the ostrich- | feather fans, so soft, so stately; these | are in black ostrich, in white qstrich, {and for young ladies every calor tw | match the dress. A very lovely but | costly fan is made, the frame of ex- | pensive wood and covered with natural | lowers, To send one’s fans to the { florist to be repaired, the same as one { sands one’s boots or hats, is really an | addition to the expense of living. —The transparent lace parasols are | still used, but not so much SO as red |sik ones. The former are costly to | buy, and should any of you have a lit- | tie chiffone 1 can tell you how to trim It so it will still look well. Place aband of parrow velvet from the top to Sho Suge at intervals outside, and a black vel bow to fasten it down at either end, and then quite at the top, around the point, place a wreath of leaves and roses. A novelty in parasols are the | Sevres china handles, placed at the top, some that once a Lous X stick they appear to be; when not put up, they thus convert the parsols into good walking-sticks, —Fancy pocket-books are made of bright scarlet Englith morocco, with corners and clasps of dull old silver, The flexible open purses, both the long with double rings and the oval shape with clasp and chain (the latter in- tended for change), are still favorites;
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers