RS AROS The Stream. A fair child plays by the mountain spring, Cooing the songs the bobolinks sing, Not a thought of guile, or shadow of care, To cloud the innocent brow su tar, While the springs flows on Heart as light as the morning air, No taint of sin vor shade of care, To cloud the beautiful brow so fair, And the spring flows on. A lithe youth walks by the sparkling stream Watching the silvery waters gleam, His heart still pure as its waters are, Unvexed by the ruth of a single care, W hile the stream flows on. Dreaming as one in a morning dream, Lazily watching the laughing stream Sporting its way in the noonday beam, And the stream flows on. A strong man stands by the river side, Thoughtfully watching the fretful tide, His shoulders stooped by the toil of years, His broad brow bent with the bale of cares, W hile the stream flows on. His statue bent by the moll of years, Heart half sick with its gathering cares, And eves bedimmed by unbidden tears, And the tide flows on. An old man waits on the ocean shore, Counting the years that have gone before, Waiting there for the ship to come To bear him away to his final home, While the tide flows on. Lougingly waiting the ship to come 'o bear Lim across to his long, long home, i While the day grows dark in the evening's gional, And the tide rolis on, A DREAMER OF DREAMS. James Bond had reached the mature i of 40 when the casual smile of a anced the whole tenor of his {Ie met her in Westbourne | autumn afternoon, and though she smiled not at him, but atan | old crossing sweeper who was thanking | her with excessive volubility for a six- | pence, vet her beautiful face was S80 charged with sweetness that there arose within him a new sensation which he | could not define, “Can this be love?" he asked him- self, gazing earnestly after the graceful figure disappearing around the corner. “Pshaw! it is absurd. 1 don’t even know her name.” “What is love?” he proceeded. “Unity— the dovetailing of angels—the meeting of extremes; therefore dependent upon the logical age woinan cl existence, 1€ Grove one faculties which alone can classify, sep- arate and unite. Consequently, with- out thorough knowledge, love is im- possible. Yet her smile was sweel— | yes, it certainly was very sweet.” At | the thought of that exquisite vision the dull gray eyes brightened, and the sal- low. careworn face wore a peculiarly soft expression. Bond rented lodgings—dingy rooms, ! littered with books and papers, from | which his landlady was forbidden to | remove the dust. He wasseldom there, however, for he lived in dreams, the | construction of which occupied most of | to the exclusion of more solid | A tall, gaunt, black-bearded | with rounded shoulders he went scarecrow, a most tempt- | the small boys in the to pelt with jokes and his time, work. man, about like & object foi ghborhood range peel. Walking homeward through a back | he met a number of them just rned loose from a board school. They were engaged in tormenting a at held | Ly a string round its neck. At “time Bond would have gone s only to escape to | quiet . but now it was y, he could not tell. Some causes are too subtle for analysis. v good children,” he said advanc- vously, *‘you shouldn’t do that firmly : turned and faced him, a dubi- | group ready to assail or flee, accord- | iz as he showed weakness or strength. | “Why do you beat the unfortunate | animal?” he pursued. | (‘os it’s mine,’ replied the red-head- { ad voung urchin who held the string. “Highly illogical, my boy.” They opened their eyes and grinned | another. After a pause the | g spokesman demanded: “I say, or. what'll yer give for it?” See, here they are. ous iu rd at one youn i Tr i gay’ “ en shillings. Is that enough?”’ N ced less to say the bargain was struck ! on Bond paid the money, put the cat under his arm, and walked | off. followed by yells of laughter. In his threadbare clothes he certainly looked an ungainly figure at any time, but the struggles of the sleek and hand- | wme tabby to free herself from his em- | brace made him a more than usually re- | markable object, i “Now, why did I buy this creature?’ | he asks himself. “Was a hatred of | cruelty the sole motive? Noj each act | is the resultant of two or more forces. Though tl too the spot. Je comparison may be carried | the cat naturally suggests | she is the old maid's compan- why not the old bachelor’s as well! | I am lonely. There we get to the bot- | tom of the matter—selfishness under the guise of beneficence, Not quite i the bottom, however; why more lonely to-day than yesterday? But stay; only a fool searches for first causes. Al, yes; her smile was very sweet,’ In accordance with this theory Bond | attributed to Eulalie qualities the very opposite of his own, or rather, what he supposed to be his own, for he very humble value upon himself, J far, Woman; 1015 set a | And | so lie had no difficulty in constructing his golden image, before which he, a vile creature of clay, meekly bowed his head and did obeisance, Iie had already given a name to the fair unknown, and that name was | Fulalie — the prettiest one he could | think of. He depicted her in her home, i surrounded by smiling faces —father, mother, sisters, brothers—all uniting to render homage to the beautiful Eulalie; and then he saw her in another home no less happy, himself her vis-a-vis and sole admirer. Somehow or other the cat purring on the hearth rug at his feet seemed to be a link between them. It was absurd, no doubt; he tried to struggle back into a more rational mood —but all in vain; he seemed to have drifted into another sphere in which reason was unknown, Next morning Bond went out into the Grove again, He was out of sorts, he told himself, and wanted a walk badly. And yet he lingered among the shops, looked absently into the win. dows, and with furtive anxiety ab the rs-by. But of a sudden he turned scarlet, for oa the other side of the street was Eulalie—a queenly woman, tall and stately, charmingly dressed, with a fringe of dainty little brown curls on her forehead, and a face like an angel’s, People turned to look at her as she went by; had they bowed down before her Bond would scarcely have felt surprised, She was attended by a couple of handsome men—one de- ferential, the other more observant of the sights around. Her brothers, com- mented Bond, who had squeezed him-~ self into a doorway, and peeped timidly at her over the bonnets of two elderly ladies. As each passing cab moment- arily shut her out from his sight his breath came fast and thick; he almost feared lest he should never behold her again. He saw her enter a shop, and presently come out again. Quite un- conscious of the existence of her shabby admirer, she proceeded on her way, and soon disappeared in the crowd. Then with the desperate courage which is perhaps most cominon in timid men, Bond plunged into the shop and asked the assistant her name, “You mean the lady who was look- ing at these gloves,” inquired the dap- per youth, pausing turning them to the box in order to “The lady!” repeated Bond, absent- ly, There was but one in the whole “I don’t know her name, sir.” Bond looked disappointed. Dnt through and through him? ‘*The touch of a vanished hand?" Surely he was traveling the road of “I waut a pair of gloves,” he said. “These will do very nicely.” They are ladies, sir,” assistant, “Never mind. They will do me very well;”’ and he bought them. gested the DO yt ne love of this solitary stude known woman, whose influence, un- consciously exerted, had gone far be- yond the limits of her personal acquaint- ance. Had it done nothing turn, When , room, the cat the only homely thing in the question. Where is the money to to such as she, even if I had the money? threw him into a stupor, out of which he emerged trembling. the strong man girded up his loins, and to lain dormant, Many years before he had begun to write a book, which he had not the energy to finish, he now took it up again, and worked at it day and night. Fame and fortune opened veins at the thought—Eulahe! The cat—that subtle bond of union friendly. As he wrote she often sat on But about this time a dreadful un- easiness seized upon him. He had not seen Eulalie for a fortnight, When the and the month into two, he became so alarmed he could work no longer, At length, in despalr, he again en- tered the shop where he had asked her He had seen her there many times since. The same dapper assist. in a box, and whole scene same that Bond paused “Have you seen her lately? lady? What are you staring at? The You “See her 1" exclaimed the assistant, with a flash of remembrance, “The lady! Oh! ah! that’s a good joke. He ended with a most objectionable laugh. “A good joke!” sald Bond absently. “I don't understand you.” “You read the papers, I suppose, sir." “I don’t. Speak plainly, man.” “The lady” —he grinned as he spoke goods on false pretences,’ “You lie, you cur!” shouted Bond. across the counter and flattened the as- tonished youth against the shelves be- hind, A crowd collected in a moment. other; and those behind began to press forward, and those in front to sheer with the flaming eyes looked violent Amid a general the shop fortunately appeared on the scene, Ile was not going to the into street, *““I'ried, poor thing!" “Put she was acquitted, swear she was acquitted.” “She was gullty, though,” cried the assistant, viciously shaking his fist from the doorway. “Shut up, you idiot,”’ erled the pro- prietor. And shaking the youth by the shoulders, he pushed him back into the shop. Bond scarcely knew how he got back to his rooms, His pile of manuscript lay on the table; the cat sit purring be- fore the fire; everything was precisely as he had left it. But oh! how differ- ent it all seemed! He dropped into a chair, and the veins stood out in his pale forehead, anil his hands worked convulsively, Eulatie in afelon’s dock! Could men be so mad, so cruel, so un- just? Xt was fmpoasible. One idea now took of him--to Eulalle, though with what object he did not determine. By a strange chance he met her in the street next day; met and scarcely rec- ognized her, Moving swiftly and 1 possession stealthily along, as if she feared to be geen, with her hair in disorder, her face no longer tonched by that art to which it had largely owed its beauty, and her dress old and slovenly, she was indeed dreadfully changed. Bond started back when he saw her, his face deadly white; he pressed his hands to his heart, it gave such a painful throb; he could scarcely believe his own eyes. His earnest gaze seemed to discom- pose her, for she dropped a faded old umbrella in the mud, whereupon he rushed forward, picked it up, and hand- ed it to her. She took gave him. Then she hurried away, leaving him in pained bewl!lderment. “A regular bad un.” He winked in the direction of the retreating woman. But Bond was already out of ear- shot, hurrying after her in obedience to an irresistible impulse to offer her all he had, yearning to tell his love and acquire the right to protect Though his ideal was little more than a memory, the woman remained and, | 1n his eyes, she was still beautiful, secure street after another he could not | find her. And at length, murmuring | self back to his lodgings. saw her. It the | afternoon. window, was on following absently caressing the cat pass by on the opposite side of the street, | suddenly stopped and stared. | stretched out her arms and cried: “Oh, my pussie! Nell, me,’ The cat sprang through the window | and crossed the street in jess time than it takes to write the words, | ownership. The animal, with arched | back and straightened tail, was delight- { edly rubbing itself against her shabby | dress, and she was bending down, talk- ing to it as it were her child. 3ond was not slow to grasp the situ- ation. He rose hastily to explain the circumstances under which he had bought the cat from a lad, whom he had believed to be the rightful owner, He was trembling in every limb, for had not his opportunity come at last, to the man who waits? | self: “‘Even the cat loves her and she loves it. I knew she was good and pure { and lovely.” “I must apologize,” vancing awkwardly, “Miss Miss “Mrs, Travers,’ she sald, rather fiantly. “Mrs!” he gasped, staggering back. | Then she was a married woman! This s A ae- fully than the one that followed Some time before he had read in the he in ers. “Then you are a widow,” | eried, with startling energy. *‘Oh, pity’s sake, say you are a widow!" She laughed scornfully. a seedy-looking individual who was ap- proaching, she said: “Here comes my husband. Now, | pray, what have you to say against me? | Just say it right out before him, | dare,” | Poor Bond slunk away to his dark ed room. His dream was over; hi | was spent, He relapsed into wokworm habits, wore clothes as an- | cient as ever, and to the despair of his landlady, remewed his edict against | dusting. The life had gone out of him, {and three years after, strangers carried his rest in { him to landlady the only mourner, - -—_— ¥ Ty ife a sl Cost of Traveling in Siberia. [ have averaged om the whole from | Viadivostock to London about thirty | shillings a day, including everything. | You ean cross the length and breadth lof Siberia, traveling first class | steamers and driving three horses in | your tarantass, for £100, and do the | half. The food is very cheap, not very | good. In the long drive from Stretinsk to Tomsk, about 1,800 miles, you run the risk of faring somewhat poorly at | the various post stations, You are al- | ways sure of having a samovar with | boiling water, with which to make tea, | and milk, with sometimes a chicken. | Beyond that the resources of the post | houses do not often go, The cost of | hving on the steamers, where you have | very good fare, is about four shillings a day. The cheapest thing is the driving. At every ten to twenty miles along the main route you come upon a post house, maintained by the government, where carriage, a springless vehicle, which does very well on smooth routes, but { which jolts you terribly when the route is bad, and which you sell when you get on the far end, I bought my tar. antass at one end for £13, and sold it at the other end for £4, having taken £9 of jolting out of it in the 1,800 miles | which it carried me safely, You drive | from two to five horses, and travel at about the rate of six miles an hour. You pay for the horses three pence a mile for the three—one pence & mile per horge, In the very far east you only pay half that or one and one half pence a mile for three horses, which is certainly not dear, But most of the way you pay three pence a mile for the three, he driver, who is also provid- ed by the government, receives a gratu- ity of four pence per stage of ten miles, C—-— «Pearls are the favorite stones worn now. The ear-rings are enormous, bui invariably composed of a single round ball, It cannot be too large, with as trifling and insignificant a selling os your Jeweler can make, «There is such a marked difference in the size of heads in England and France, and In the mode of - ing the hair and putting on the bonnet, that it is not surprising, to meet the wants of our market, that French head- need some cure. ful treatment by English milli ners, HIS EXPIATION. The Story of a Strange Woolng. “If I were a man,” said Martha Hicks, “I believe I could kill my brother's murderer!” and then the girl burst into tears, They bad brought her the news that morning of her broth- er’s death. He had always been a wild, reckless boy, and given to dissipation of the worst kind, but Mattie had been fond of him and shielded him from his father’s anger. When they were left orphans she did her best to Jead him into a better life, and now that he was dead she sorrowed as if he was a saint instead of a torment, Months went by, and still Martha Hicks refused to be comforted, even by | old nurse. She spent hours | on the rocks by the sea, finding company in the mournful surge of the waves, and i { | | | her in the shrill voice of the sea-birds. Here { she spent most her life, alone with her | sorrow. One day she found her place on the | rocks occupied by a strange man she | had never seen in the neighborhood be- | fore. He looked up at the sound of her | footsteps, and touching his hat respect- | fully to her disappeared, | a sad one, and involuntarily she found herself wondering who he was, From that day they met frequently by the | lovely waves, and were soon on spenk- ing terms with each other. The bond | of a great sorrow drew them frresistibly { In his company. | the story of his life, that his name was Jerome Wayne, and | met, pressure of hands, One day he came to her to say fare. | forever, to change the soft, shy love- | Light in her eyesto bitter hate and deep- est loathing. | to snatch her to his breast, wrap forever | in silence his guilty | her life into his own at any cost, hand upon his arm, to whisper “Je- rome!" most holy in 3 its pure intensity. away. “ Jerome,” she said, steadily” though the little hand upon his arm trembled, | maidenly? I know how a man’s pride | shrinks from owing aught to woman, | but should pride part loving hearts, Je- rome?"’ “Pride? he sald, with a fierce, un- | mirthful laugh; “Martha, do you think pride could part you and me?” She trembled still, but did not take her hand from his arm. “I may have been wrong,” she said humbly; “I thought you loved me.” “Love youl’ he cried. than the heaven I have lost. | you, Martha,’ and he erouched down | she looked at him in wonder. he said presently. “Leave me | misery, | pity on your facel Woman, Iam brother's murderer!” She gave one ery as if he had shot her, but did not move her eyes; dilated | now with a horror beyond words to ex- | press, | “You wonder why I came here,’ he sald, with a hard, dry sob in his voice, “hut [ had a wild fancy I might atone, gr Yao, to my your And when I knew-—knew I I could not gol { help you. | loved you! | ness! Martha! speak to mel | me! Do anything but look at me with | such wild eyes! | have not killed youl” “Nol” she said, in a hoarse, strained volee; “you-—you-—were—the —mal-- who “It was a quarrel We were both heated by wine, He struck me, and 1 shot him!’ As hespoke hedropped at her feet, his face bowed to the very ground. But she rose, heavily, painfully stretching her hands before her as it groping. Not once looking back, she took this new, overwhelming misery into her life without a moan or sigh, and bending under the burden, slowly dragged it homeward, It was quite dark when Jerome lifted his head. Alone, utterly alone for ever, with the brand of Cain upon his brow, he stood erect and faced the sea. The | tide was in, and he walked straight for- | ward, The water kissed his feet, | clasped his ankles, covered his knees, but he walked on, his face set in rigid lines, Breast high the hungry waves beat upon him, but he faltered mot till the waters met over lus head, and only the sea and sky saw his expiation. a An Eaglish Girl on an American Girl I imagine that American girls think more of their dress than our own do, but they make the fatal mistake of “dressing-up.” 1 mean that they are dowdies at one time and elaborately got- up at others. They do not show so well at breakfast, for instance, as an English girl does, ere is a certain want of finish about the colff indeed, the general outline of their really y more ¢ ng w in the morning, fresh Her American and im to beholder, is attired for the smarter and better are any of us, as a rule, «Prince Wilkes has gone unrters at Crit Davis,’ . Dy this time his off. In the midd will be let run in his he will be | ul ove Over the into win FASHION NOTES. — Embroidered dress goods are very fashionable and much cheaper than formerly——a welcome announcement to many ladies of moderate means. —Green cashmere 18 mixed by Worth with brick-red fallle; but this addition, however discreet, at once converts the toilet into more of a carriage dress, —Felt is a favorite material this sea- son, plaited and treated In vanous ways, Gold feathers mixed with vul- ture plumes are among the trimmings. —{ashiere, serge, bombazine, cam- ¢l’s hair and all-black woolens are used for mourning costumes; but Henrietta cloth 1s preferred for handsome COS- tumes. —Soft felt hats are already coming into comfortable repute. Large gauze vells are used to ornament these hats, and the long ends are tied around the neck like a boa. -~Black velvet corset belts, pointed | as the top both back and front, and | finished at the waist with lappels, are | to be worn with colored dresses. ‘They are sure to be popular, for they make the figure look so trim and slight, | —Green leather 18 a new caprice for | nuies, and for the large, soft wallets | for carrying cards, money and notes, | This new leather is a light-green tint, and 18 In raised designs like those of | repousse silver, — Another new idea in the precious stone line is to have single stones of all arately in a sort of crown selling, with | them on velvet or ribbon dog-collars. | The nearer and more numerous they are the better, and bugs, flowers, but. | terflies, and such- fancy pins find their | way happily into these brilliant coun- | stellations, —Toques still find favor in Paris, but much modified. A new kind has | two wings at the back, starting from | behind & broad brim, The great nov- eity in toques is one which has much | in its favor, viz, the Olivia front, or | centre point over the face, which turns upward, giving ample room for the fringe. Up to the present season the great disadvantage of toques has been the way they are wont to hide the front | erowns, having bows of ribbon at the | back and feathers in front. | the crowns are covered with chameleon velvel, —Traveling dresses for journeys by | or gray and! white stripes, stripes of fawn and white, blue and white, or solid dark | blue. Some of these dresses are braided | with picot braid in flower patterns, while others have only stitching. Some | of these mobair traveling gowns, | ribbon so popular just now. With | them are worn little, close bonnets of | gray straw, trimmed with Russian {tulle and clusters of red carnations, | forget-me-nots or biuetles. —The polonaise has been revived | under the title of blouse, and Is much | and gids. To deseribe it generally, it dress, worn over a peiticoat of the | same fabric, on which it is slightly— very slightiy—draped. again toward the waist. | are quite full, half long, and gathered at the arm-hole; a band of Balgarian the arm-hole and on the wristband, | Such costumes are made of barege, | veiling, English crape and crepeline for young girls’ evening toilets. light nor dark, called Italian sky, has | appeared in fine plain armures, camel’s hair and limousines, and is introduced | in plain and figured materials in com- | bination with fawn, russel, ecru, bronze and Japanese red. A famous msn milliner has just completed a tell ing gown of this color, adorning it with a delicate embrowdery of gold toned down with a cunning admixture of bronze. There 1s an odd velvet ball corsage, the immediate fronts of which run to the collar, Beyond this it is cut away, giving it the appearance of a half-low bodice over a second one of | the blue faille. The antique sleeves show an odd mixture of the silk, the velvet and the rich bronze brocatelle, —Jackets, whatever their shape, are worn by all ladies in general with morning tollets, and by the young girls at all hours of the day. With the short mantle wraps it is different; these are not worn at all by young girls; ladies of all ages wear them, in all de- grees of elegance, for visiting and for afternoons. Some of these are 80 ex- tremely rich as to be unsuitable for the street, and are only worn in the carri- age; these are of Genoese velvet in rich dark shades, sometimes embroidered with gold or trimmed .with passemen- terie in which there is gold; almost all are trimmed with lace. Their shape is a combination of mantilla and visite, with sleeves forming part of the back, and short tab fronts, the tabs cut square or pointed. SE NOTES. —Stuyvesant’s mile in 1.40 this yeas was made in a publie race, and so really outranks Ten Broeck’'s 1.20}, which was made against time on a prepared track. “Knapsack” MeCOarthy aod John Madden purchased from Mr. Abe Smith, of Harrodsburg, Ky., the 4-year- old chestnut mare Geneva 5., at St Lous, Friese, 1500. —Hanover’s victory in the Drecken- ridge stakes at Baltimore makes his twenty-third race for the season and his nineteenth victory, his gross earnings for the year being $84,210.50. —We have recelved a neat catalogue of Distons’ Pleasant Valley Stock Farm. Bentoneer and Mandarin are the stal- lions, It also contains a number of choice brood mares, ~Trainer McCabe has taken the Dwyer Brothers’ string to the Brooklyn track, with the exception of Hanover, Kingston, Bessie June and Fordham, which have been sent to Baltimore. — William Delong, the young jockey who was ruled off on the closing day of the autumn meeting of the Brooklyn Jockey Club, has been reinstated, and will ride during the Memphis meet. ing. ~Dwyer Brothers have returned the bay mare Ferona, by Glenelg —LaHen- derson, by Lexington, to D. Swigert, at the Elmendort Stud, in Kentucky, having only leased the racing qualities —Prince Wilkes has won all of the races he has started in except the Hart- ford race. In his last two races he beal Harry Wilkes (record 2..3f), at St Lous, and Belle Hamlin (record 2.13%), at Lexington. —Katharine S., 4 years old, by Mes- senger Chief, beat the great show mare Lady De Jarnet for a piace In the three minute race at Lexiogton, Ky., re- cently, Katherme 8S, was third, in 2.243. She was driven by Crit Davis. —Mr. Farris, who lives near Dan- ville, Ky., has a 2-year-old colt by Rienzi that can trot a mile close to 2.30. Macey Brothers, Versaillas, Ky., have a 2-year-old filly by the same horse, lately broken, that has gone a mile In 2.49, Several offers have been made Mr, made by Jockey Garrison. Mr. Jen- nings, however, has said he would take $10,000, and not a cent less, as he es- —Jouh 8. Clarke, who purchased D., for $5000, bad the Bowerman Bros,, to take off her shoes after she made her record of 2.353 Mr. Clarke brought two of her shoes home with hia as souvenirs, The front shoes weighed 84 ounces, and the hind one 84 ounces, —8. W. Street has purchased of Dwyer Brothers the chestnut horse King Al- fonso, dam Inverness (imp,) by Maca~ orse has de- blood vessels, which drove Irognois, Harold and so many good horses off the turl. ~—At Macey Bros, Versailles, Ky¥.. a 2-year-old colt by Messenger Chief, seconds, and a yearling by Messen- ger Chief, out of the well-known white mare Jennie L. (record 2.27%), that has not been broken quite a month, trotted They belong — This has been a great ysar for the with his Nutwood filly Irma, which he George beat the winner Grass stakes for 4-year- ike also drove the of the Dlue —H. Clay Mock's bay gelding Maa- ning, 4 years old, by Messenger Chief, went a mile over the Lexington Course in 2.23}. He was driven by Tip Bruce, who is considerably over weight. Mr, ock is willing to show him a mile In 90 or better. Manning has no record, LOrse. ~—Mz. George A. Singerly has a pair of young Messenger Chiels which are fast. Preity Belle is a bay Gilly, out of a mare by Bay Dick, son of Lexington, and she has trotted a mile in 2.304. Messenger Queen is a bay filly, out of a mare by Lysie’s Wilkes, and sbe hag shown & mile in 2.333. The filies are matched in color and gait, and they are driven to pole. They are worth a good deal of money for a road team. 4). J. Hamlin and his trainer, Horace Brown, are home from thelr Kentucky trip and the horses are at the Village Farm, Horace, when asked what was the matter with Belle in her last race,said 1n his honest way: “Noth- ing; only Belle was not in condition and we did not have quite speed enough.” And further, in hus opinion, he did not think any horse on the turf was licensed to beat Prince Wilkes. A great deal of talk is going om about forming an Eastern or Metro. politan circuit, to take in tracks at New York city, Parkville, L. L, Pough- keepsie, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Wash ington, Providence and Boston. It is argued that trotting has almost died trotters that go on & owned near home, 1t would owner's advantage to enter at the
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers