Tired. 1 am ticod, Heart and fect Purn from busy mart and street; [ nm tired; rest is sweet. I am tired. 1 have played ln‘thegunshine and the shade; 1 havo seen the fiowers fade. 1 an tired, I have had Ww hat has made my spirit glad, What has made my spirit sad. 1am tired. Loss and gain! Golden sheaves and scattered grain? Day has not been spent in vain. 1am tired. Byentide Bidawme lay my cares aside, Bidssue io my hopes abide, | am tired. God is near, Lot me sleep without a fear, Lot me Adis without a tear. 1 am tired. I would rest, As the bird within its nest; 1'arptired. Hotao |s best. {KE LEFT SLIPPER. **f thought fairies were obsolete, and Uinderellas nowhere,” I exclaimed one morning, drawing out from under the sofa in my sitting-room a small slipper for a left foot; * but if ever there was a lady, be she a Cinderella or Susannah, who had a smaller foot than this would lit, I'should like to ses her, that’s all.” I sat down again to my coffee and iam, and wondered however it could wppen that Mrs, Poitle, my worthy and obsequlious landlady, should have vlowed tho slipper to have been over- looked in the “thorough cleaning’ she iad assured me always took place potween Lhe exit and entree of her dif- ‘erent sels of boarders; yet here it was. The shining of the soft bronze-colored eather had attracted my eyes as the sun Ht up tie abyss beneath the sofa; sand now what must I do with 1t? Perhaps, alter all, it was Mrs, Pottle's wwii but I langhed at the ides of Mrs, irild or a grandehild; but it was not a wohable interpretation of the myste:y. it could surely not be kept under the ofa for ornament, and yet how should uch a thing asone slipper not be missed .f the gwner possessed two feel. However, the little innocent-looking slipper, fit to case a fairy’s foot, lay there and destroyed my peace of mind as § looked at it, My readers may langh at me as they choose; but I wil frankly confess that while some men [all iu love with a bunch of curls, a pair ofdeyes, a smile, a hand, a voice, I was, before breakfast wa: hall over, head and ears in love with . slipper, It was [olty—nonsense—of course, but so it was. Philosophers would say it was 418 form that my imag nation conjured ip a8 the real owner of the shpper . Such a pretty little thing It ¢ and felt as | turned it over rn my hand, with its s/lken sandals and osetta of blue, and {1s neat lining f white slik; a dainty little article, ndeed, perfumed wiii a soft sweet wor of roses, that all 1s Jong isolation rom its sweet mistress had not wholly lestroyed. I heard M itairs with m Pottle as ending the iad determined taat | would be guilty theft, if theft was sooner than part with my new treasure, The landlady mgerea, ‘‘Letiers, sir, if you please, 4 » “Thank you” 1 answered, coolly, .ud let her go again; though I longed or the history of her previous lodgers, thought she eyed me suspiciously, wil, of course, 1 was mistaken; and I urmned and finished my breakfast, and hen broke open the envelopes of my © Iring the bell. Mn. Pottle enters. .am sitting on the sofa reading the aper; bul I just say, srelessiy: "You wvo kept these lodglags some time, 1 uppose, Mrs, Pottle?” “law! yes sir,” she answered, stop- ng stort In the geleral gathering ogether of plates and dishes; *‘nigh apon twenty years. Tirough my poor samuel being taken oI early, sir, I was obliged to begin at forty. Now say,” sard Mrs, Pottla with a smile, ‘that they hardly can think it’s more han a few years ago I began—I'm so auch the same, ‘There you are rght,”” I said, willing to propitiate Mri Pottle. ‘“*You wight as well pass for ifly, and a youog- ooking woman at that. But, however, what sort of people do ‘ou mostly get sore? —young men, Jk I am, in mer- chants’ offices, or somdling of that Kind? { “Why, yee, sir, Firs and last I've fl some scores of cldks and junior partners; but still, 'tik’t always so, but there was one younj man--—nearly ihe first I ever had-—"" 1 did not exactly want a twenty vears® list of lodgers, sell interrupted the worthy soul by say®g: *‘But who naye you had lately, wo was the last ndw , before I came?” | “A curious old coupiff as ever you cast your eyes on,” Vidi" I gasped. I-F Mrs. Potgle did not, I :ppose, notice my agitation, but replied “Yes, sir, the gentidban is about seventy-five, I should thnk, and the indy might Le a year old4 or younger — not much difference ween them, Bat, I beg your pardog-that's your "hus, And Mrs, Pottle disap- of the pauses of our discourse I incau- tiously pulled out my pocket handker- chief to wipe my forehead, and with it —horror of horrors!i-the little bronze. colored slipper with its blue rosette. I shook it hastily from my lap into the straw beneath, but the old lady had seen it, and I felt aghast as I remems- bered that the story of that little slip per for the left foot of my pretty Cin- derella would probably cost me five thousand pounds of my very discreet auns’t money. Should I throw myself on the old lady’s mercy at once—in the omnibus by confessing the truth? But would she be likely to believe me if 1 did? I thought not. I should only have false- hood added to the black list already prepared, I doubted not, for presenta- tion to my aunt, I kuew the old lady would not ge as far as I did, for she had already told me her destinction; so I kept my own foot on one edge of the little slipper, determined to pick it up again, spite of all, at the first oppor- tunity. “] think you dropped something, sir,”’ sald my aunt’s friend, coldly. “Nothing of consequence, I think, thank you,” I replied. “I should rather think it was of great consequence,” she remarked cruelly. “Doubtless the young lady wants her slipper matched or mended.” The young lady! What young lady? Ah, if I could only find this Cinder- ella! Deeply mortified, I said no more, and the old lady soon left me. I went ioto the office, carrying my handkerchief in a different pocket, that I might not draw out the slipper with it, and sat down to my writing; but my head was confused, and that little bronzad slipper dancea over the page, over every line in my ledger, in each i leaf of the memorandum book. { *1f things go on like this,” T ex- | clained mentally, *‘I shall go mad about that slipper. 1 almost wish I had never seen it.” Just then one of the partners came into the office. **tlaley,” he sald, ‘‘did you plck up an account written on a slip of paper of an order to be executed for Graylis?” “] did sir, and put it in my pocket- book, as I thought you had most likely dropped it.” “Thank you Haley, Just hike you, [ admire a young man who has his wits about him,” I put my hand in for the pocket- t book, and forgot all about the slipper { for a moment in my pleasure al my em- | ployer’s praise; but it had not Torgotten we, and tumbled out. The sandals being entangled with the pocket-book. then the shpper fell upon the floor. All this happened much more quickly than I have written it. But a grave frown rested on my employer's face as I handed him the paper. **Take care, Haley, don’t resent it if I give you a fatherly word of warning. It is better a young man should not carry such things in his pocket; at least should not allow people to see them." I looked up astonished. Mr. Arnold second partner in the firm, was Aity | years of age, and a bachelor. What did he know about such things? “I think I could explain to your sat- [if you had time; and really involves nothing at all wrong.’ | “I quite believe you Haley, but every one won't be so merciful.” | Mr, Arnold went out and closed the i door, I never thought-—never guessed might depend upon a slipper; but when mined to bring no more annoyance upon myself by keeping it s0 close at hand. 1 had invited two or three yonng men the river and then to sup with me. After a pleasant hour and a hall we came back, hungry and exhilarated. I conducted my friends to my room; and, while we chatted, Mrs. Pottle brought | in supper. A discussion arose about a | lecture of Ruskin's and his opinion of a | certain picture of Turner's, **I can {tell you exactly what he said,” 1 | exclaimed, pulling out my keys and paragraph into a note book.” ! {in the sight of my three friends was | not only the note book, but the ‘left slipper for that unknewn, unseen foot. A roar of laughter recalled me to my senses, *‘I1s that a Chinese specimen, Haley? I heard you'd bought one.” “What a sly buy you are! Who ! 13 she, Haley?” “Brown, turned out with blue, Very tasty indeed, I should say.” “Meet me by moonlight alone.” **Who stole the slipper?” Need I say more Mrs. Pottle, walking about the room, heard some of these remarks, and gave me, I thought, a look of malicious triumph. “Be merciful to a fellow for once.” I said, desperately, *‘and keep the affair secret, till I give you leave to split.” “When will that be?” asked Harry Dawson. “Give me a month, Harry.” “And you'll let us know in a month how it all goes on?’, es, if I know myself,” “Haley hasn't cheek enough to carry on courting,” sad Dawson. “He hardly knows what's what, or who's who, or when's when, I think, m boy, you'd better come to me for a in the art, I’ve had plenty of practice acd I’m up to a nice little trick or two. | “You're a dreadful nuisance, Daw- son,” sald Frank Jones. ‘Let the sage lalking to Mrs. Pottle; but 1 . wp without a close investiga- tion. Jwst as I turned the corner of the staircase 1 heards these words in a pleagni volee: “I wish I could find it; it li such a ridiculous thing to lose, I am amést sure I left it in the parlor when brought it down to show grand- mammy and I forgot to carry it away. I am sofry to have troubled you again, Mrs, Pdtle, and it’s of no very great conse n **Shalil ask Mr. Haley?” “Oh, vo! Of course if he had seen it. he waald have given it to you. It wasn’t hg,” And she laughed a girl. ish silvery, merry laugh. I softly opened my room door and went in. {Would she think me a thief, then! o was she¥Y The front door closed afgr a “Good evening, Mrs, Pottle,” @d I looked out of my win- dow and watched her; them taking my hat again.ran down stairs, obeying a sudden imilse, and following her. Soon sbé turned into a wide street, then anotidr, and then calling a cab she ste to it; but I heard the ad dress—No. 14 Victona Terrace. So I called anotlsr and followed her, Oa we went until the Terrace was reached, rious incident occurred here. The took fright as the dri- ver descended to open the door. The poor man fellpn the pavement, and the young lady, wiose foot was on the step, fell into my agns; but I eould not help her receiving 4 bad sprain, though she acted bravely, ke a true little heroine, and did not fait, “You are hut, I fear,” I said, care- fully lifting hesin my arms, and slowly ascending the isteps. Just then the door of number}4 opened; an old lady and gentleman fd one or two servants appeared, The peor old began to cry. ish, ‘Look to sald to the “Madame, wheg young lady?’ | ‘‘In bere, sir, il you please, very much obliggl to yeu. It would have been the dedh of us both if any. thing ever happeipd to Katie. The old lady I4l the way to a hand- somely furnished room, and I laid fe was evidently child- shall I carry the of mischievous briwn eyes, and looked | up into my face. I'm afrald I’m vely heavy. Where Is him for me and dof't let him want for | anything.” i I promised to dogo and come back at once and report © her, and hastened { down, The drive was lying in his being harnessed, wiile his own, rather badly wounded, tas led off to the stables as he had requested the by standers it should je. 1 got in beside the poor fellow aml accompanied him to the hospital. { *I should | he said, { “Of course you yould,” | she live?” feeling I was fulliing Cinderella’s wishes. I told my tile to the cabman’s wife, who was palurally thrown into {| much distress, | “You say I can g to him at once, | sire" “Yes, surely you cin,” “And stay the night with him?" ‘I really doa’t kno¥ about that; you | must ask the matron Tue young lady wished me to say tht she Lopes you | will allow her to help fou in every way she can.” 1 then puts sovereign mto 1 had scribbled **14 Vittoria Terrace.’ She thanked me and se I left her, It was getting late, but I proceeded iat once to Cinderella¥ abiding place. { Outside the door I faind a doctor's | carriage, and my aixiety at once awakened. 1 rang thy bell, and the | servant who answered it told me that | Miss Ayrton’s foot wasbadly sprained, {and that her papa, Ix. Ayglon had | been sent for, and was now with her; but she expected Mis Kate would want to see me, for she ad inquired | more than once if the gentieman had brought any news of the poor cabman. to the dininz-room. left her, and the old gentleman and lady were at her side. “It 1s very kind of you, sir, to come again to-night. 1 have given you a great deal of trouble. This is my papa.’’ The doctor gave me Ais hand cor- dially. *‘I am very thankful to you, sir, for saving my poor litle girl from what I feel sure would have happened to her bat for your preseute of mind.” I fear I made an incohemnt reply. =+And now,” sald Miss Ayrton with more animation, “‘sit dows and tell me all about that poor cabmaa.’' “I did so, and when I Ind told her all, she said: * Poor womsnh; 1 wish I could go and comfort her: dut you will see to her from time to time, won't you, Mr. Haley, and come and tdl me some- thing?’* She took her papa’s purse, and handing me a sufficient sum of money, said, “Don’t let them want for anything, please, Mr. Haley." 1 readily promised and was about to leave, when the supper was brought in, and Dr, Ayrton invited ms to take a few mouthfuls with him, asd then he would drive me home. “I am afraad it will be out of your way,” I said, blushing a little as 1 feit the secret of my following her might now be guessed by Miss Ayrton, “I lodge at—at Burnwood Place.” granddanghter, entreatingly; “of course, Mr, Haley can’t have seen it, What a funny question fo ask a gentle manl”’ 1 looked eonfused, I suppose, and the doctor noticed it. “Come, come, Mr, Haley, there 1s a story behind this; let us hear it.” I was in for it now, and protested; but bit by bit it was drawn from me by the amused little group round the sup- per table, Miss Ayrton listened and laughed jheartily, though ber face was covered with blushes, too; and as I told of my aunt’s friend in the omnibus Dr. Ayrton shook his sides with laugh- ter. I thought I had certainly made myself foolish at last, When we withdrew, Miss Ayrton sald, with a roguish twinkle in her eyes, “You will bring me that left slipper when you come again?’ But 1 made no promises, and I never did return the “little bronze-colored slipper with the blue rosette.’” I have it still, locked away with my treasures in a private drawer from which even Cinderella herself would not venture to abstract her slipper. The cabman is quite recovered, and is the owner of thres cabs instead of one, My aunt’s wrath never showed itself, if the story came to her; and if five thousand pounds should be subtracted from my legacy, it will, I am confident, only be done to confer it upon my son and heir, now lying aslesp in Cinder- ella’s arms, The Queen of Italy's Necklace. Now, a word about the celebrated { coral necklace of the QQ een of Italy, | It 15 a well known fact that she wears | it continually, and even on occasions { of grand tollette she carries it under a {river of sparkling diamonds, The necklace has a history. Five years ago, the Prince of Naples, | her son, heir apparent to the throne of i Italy, was strolling through a street in | Venice, when his eye was attracted by | the necklace in the show window of a | jeweller shop. The idea at once struck | him to buy it for his mother, the Queen, { But the price was far beyond the ca- | pacity of his pocket money, and { though destined to be King Victor { Emmanuel 111. he { ask the jeweler for credit, | gain {as he could from his save enough | pocket money. { carried away with him five pearls, | which he carefully guarded, It was i two years before he was able to buy the whole necklaces, afterward learned the s=cret of | this charming exhibition of her son’s i love on all occasions, and hence she { even when she wears her stale jewels | on great occasions, scl MI Assisi How to Read Books. It is almost always worth while to read a thing twice over, to make sure that | nothing has been missed or dropped on | the way, or wrongly conceived or inter | preted. And If the subject be s rious, | it is often well to let an interval elapse. | Ideas, relations, statements of fasts are | not to be taken by storm. We have to steep them in the mind, in the hope of thus extracting their inmost essence | and significance. If one lets an nter- | val pass, and then returns, it is surpris- | ing how clear and ripe that has become | which, when we | obscure, and full of perplexity. All this takes trouble, no doubt: but | that we find in books or elsewhere as a | them 1n the sand for the sun to hatch | and chance to rear. People who follow { this plan posses« nothing beiler than | ideas half batched and convictions | reared by accident, They are like a | man who should pace up and down the | world in the delusion that he is clad in | sumptuous robes of purple and velvet, ! and when io truth he 1s only hall cov {ered by the rags and tatters of other | people’s castoff clothes. Why Were They So Buried. § —— | In the small town of Leominster, in { Herefordshire, England, the old Piiory | Church has been undergoing a thor- ough process of restoration, in the course of which it has been fonnd necessary to lower the paths leading to the southern porch, as the floor of the church lies some three feet below the level of the surrounding church yard, in the course of excavations a number of skeletons have been turned up, more or less in a state of preservation. The remains thus exhumed were sufficient to fill two carts, and were all found lying face downward, and were fall- grown skeletons. One reason ascribed for this peculiar phenomenon is that at one time the immediate neighborhood of the church was the scene of a great riot, and the bodies of the slain on that occasion were dragged there and buried. During the dispute between Charles I. and his parliament the town was taken from the royalists by Col. Birch, and held by baum for the parliament, and a large mound near to where the remalns were found is said to have been thrown up at that time to protect the road which runs through Leominisier to Shrewsbury. There is a large hollow near at hand whence the earth forming the mound is said to have been carted. A wee little lady who lives in a sub- the other while out for a walk oi talked Sbous it FASHION NOTES, ~ An admixture of tints is to be de- cidedly fashionable this season, The black and dark tones are gradually giving way in England, where they have been so popular, —-80ft woolen stuffs are frequently made up with full bodices, the plaits or gathers crossing over the bosoms and joined to the skirt draper.es io a looped sash or plastron drapery. ~A new bit of Joweley worn abroad, which we are longing to see imported to this side, is a ruby almond inclosed in a golden shell. The shell is half open, showing the glittering ruby inside, —Black silk hose have white splif feet, and & new make shows Balbrig- gan feet with the remaining portion in black silk, Silk thread and cotton hose have also the white split feet, Other desirable colors are navy, seal, dark red, gray, mode and olive, Plain colors. are usually preferred, though in cotton, fine lines and checks are iiked because they wear well. —hemiseties are largely imported of fine plalted lawn, embroidery and needle-work, Some of the French chemisettes are neatly finished with blocks and rows of bem-stitching. ~Leather cord applied on an alpaca band for protecting the bottom of a dress skirt is so far superior to the braid so long in use that it will, with- out doubt, take the place of ii alto- gether, ~New designs in silk show embroid- ery in delicate pale shades on a cream ground, with Valenciennes lace inser- colors on flegh color. and flowers in sil« and metal embroidery on black. Other silk hose have front pieces of lace, em- broidered with silk, ombre stripes in open work, | = Embroidered gauzs Is superseding | the black lace which has been so much | worn. It comes in all colors beautiful- | ly embroidered for different parts of { large and floriated in design, that for | thesfichu and balf-sleeves in small, | delicate pattern of the same colors, — The handsome plastrons made of bugles and long pendants of all colors are just as fashionable as one year ago, and there Is uo abatement in the popu arity of t | glittering and justreless; with these | the set is often eompleted with collar, epauniets and cuffs, so thal one can at once change a very plain dress into | something bright, pretty and stylish at a very few moooua=nis notice. + 110 can say there Is nothing new | in kids, when Parisians are raging over the new sang de ba if color for gloves? And what 1s this new wonderful glove? | Ox blood describes iL to our America | ears, and this, at best, an ugly dry | red tint, with three broad stitchings on { the back in black, Will they take with | us? is ampother querry. As the season advances the answer will be given, Im- { the backs of kids is immensely popular, land will remain so for walking and | driving gloves through the winter, but { we cannot think them adapted to fall | dress, Long. Swedish gloves are still extremely In vogue for evening. Some contrast neatly stitched upon ‘hem. Others, in the natural color of the kid, | are beautifully hand-painted, not only { on the back but ou the long wrist often | reaching to or above the elbow, | fashionable, | g oves, with plain stitching, are much used, and nothing can be more becom- | the fact that they increase ils apparent | size, Doth undressed-kid and heavy i stitching are also fashionable. show heavy black stitching. A French | faney is for white undressed kid, but it | 18 doubtful if they will obtain in this i quite as popular here as there. | for strect wear, and mousquetaire are | still worn, | twenty to thirty button lengths, or buckle, arm all of lace, with embroidery of silk, metal or bewla The warm Jer- everyday attire, | —A right pretty hat for evening wear is of cream white felt, Las the brim shghtly rolling on one side, and 1s faced with moss-green velvet; on the left side are loops aad ends of cream- tinted ribbon. lined with the green vel- vet, around them curving large green colored ostrich plumes, merely covering the crowyp, and curling over thebrnim in front. Breast feather and made wings fo the feathers of different birds are | largely used in millinery, but it would seem the cry out against the slaughter of the poor innocent birds has had its effect, and for a season at least they are allowed to chirp in peace. A little French princess bonnpet shape, with on the crown, The millinery will be moss-greea, pale tints mauve, bebe hi pink. jo HORSE NOTES. ~ FF, Emery has sold the 3-year old gelding Hertzog for $2000. ~ Patron will be trained and started for a fast record next season. —Mr. Gordon is driving Clingstone on the road with William I. C. H. Page has purchased the b. g. Richelieu, 2.521, for a road horse. —The young stallion, Kentucky Dic tator, will be campaigned next season —Walter Gratz has purchased of Walter Rollins, the trainer, the b. ¢. Racquet (2) by Reform, dam Waltz by Lexington, ™ ~8, A. Tanner has purchased fron R. O. Morris, Trevianvillie, Va., Dam¢ Quickly, by Hawkwood, and a 2-year old mare by Bellewood. ~The 2.14} made by Harry Wilkes is the best mile trotted in public this year. Little Mac's 2.13}, made at Detroit on July 23, was the best mile paced. ~Harry Johnson, the well-knows pool seller, has leased his hotel on Mar. ket street above Eleventh, P.iladel phia, and himself and family are stop- ping a% the Bingham Ilouse. —This has been a great year for trot. ting stallion transactions. Sultan and Director were shifted from California te Kentucky, and to preserve the balance lowa got Nutwood, and New York hat Cuyler and Pancoast. Asa wind-up ol the season John 8, Clark, of New Brunswick, N. J., has sold Wedgewoot Teon. / —At the meeting of the Tarf Coke | gress, at Cincinnati, a communicallior | was received from E. J. Bald~m, o | California, complaining that Li2 did no receive the $2000 from tbe St. Leul { Club, which it agreed 16 ald to the | mateh race between his horse Volante, and Mr. Haggin’s Fyrant, for which { Volante walked over. IL will i remembered that Volante was pr nal | 1zed five pounds at Chicazo, for win- ning this match, the Washington Park i authorities holding it to be a sweep { stakes in view of the added money. { Mr. Baldwin resisted in vain, and i declared he would bring the malber the congress 0 recover the | money if he must carry penalties for it, Tue congress, however, decidel it bad { po power in the matter, 3 iE | before —n an interview held with a report- er, Mr R C. Pate sys his retirement { from the turf is not permanent, To { use his own words, he dest es Lo lake a rest next season and resume rao ng in | 1888. [He Is very fond of the sporti, bat | his health Is very bad, and be thinks of { going to California for the winter. | “My stable,” continued Mr. Pate, | “*was not as much of a success last sea ison as I had expscled., [ anticipated | a good season, and it wag my own fault ithat | did pot do well. 1 was so {anxious to win races and worked my | horses so hard in the early part of the season that they were all run out almost | before the regular season openel It is a mistake that many owners make, | Mr. Corrigan has about the same ex- | perience that I have gone through. { Aithough 1 don’t think he has los: any- i thing, he has not made very much, I | started out in a remarkably s«tisfactory manner. At Nashville, Memphis, La- onia and St. Louis in the spring, [ won my share of races, but by Lhe time my | horses got East their severe work at the ahove places began to teil on them, {and they were of little uss, 1 came out about even; but the season before, with the same horses, you will remem- ber that my winnings amounied to about $30,000, Monogram did the best | of my stable last season. He won six of the seven races in which he started, The horses are now in preity fair con- dition, and. with proper traatment, will be in splendid racing trim for the opening of next season, [ will sell | them all except Conkling. He has been in preity bad shape for som= time, but is gradually coming around all I right. 1 will keep him uulii spring, and will then probably sell hum at pn- vate sale. if I go into the buuness again 1 will start out with a large sta- ble.”* —Daniel Swirert, of the Elmendor! Stud, Muirs, Kv., has purchased in England the stallion Kingera t, winner of the Darby in 1570. . He 18 a bay, foa el in 1867, by King Tom,. dam | Wooderaft, by Voltiguer. A corres. pondent says of the purchase; “That Mr. Swigert was In quest of a stallion was generally known, as the death of | Virgil in September, followed by that | of Prince Charlie a fortnight since, left { him with Glenelg alone to cover some | sixty or seventy mares at his stud | That he would purchase an Eaglish | horse, too, seemed quite probable, as breeders generally seem to consider | that 1mported horses do bet with | pative mares, Mr. Swigert attended | the recent sale of Mr. Lorillard, and it was expected he would buy, but Iro- quois went too high, and Pizarro he | stallion. Ke even expressed a desire for Mortemer, and we thoaght,he would buy him of Mr, Withers, but it came to naught. That he should purchase so old & horse as Kingeraft strikes us as curious. Kingeraft is 20 years old next season, and by the time Mr, horses, and is an adver. Mr. Swi the fact Fl
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers