The Watcher. The Shesh are amothered in the snow; ‘he ohild-ayed stars are cleaving keen The frozen air; and, sailing slow, The white woon stares across the scene. She waits beside the fading fire, Che gasping taper flickers low, And drooping down, and rising Lighes Her shadow wavers to and fro, No foot disturbs the sleeping floor, No motion save the wintry breath That, stealing through the crannled door, Creeps coldly as a thought of death, It chills her with its airy stream, O cold, O careless midnight blast! It wakes her as her fevered dream Hath skimmed the sweetness of the past, She stirs not yet. The night has drawn Its silent stream of stars away, Aud now the infant streaks of dawn Begin to prophesy the day, She stirs not yet. Within her eye The half-crushed tear-drop lingers still; Elie stirs not, and the smothered sigh Breaks wave-like on the rock of will. O heart that will anheeding prove, O beart that must Caio break, How strong the hope, how deep the love, That burn for faithless folly’s sake! TRIED BY FIRE. “Marry Mr. Dysart? Thatold man? Mamma, you are jesting!"’ She stood at the open window of the shabby little sitting-room —a tall, straight young figure in a clinging black gown. A girl with a fair, sweet face, brown eves, and golden hair— Lucia Denelle. At the other window—Dboth of which | opened upon great, straggling, unkept groumds——a delicate looking woman was bending over a huge basket of darning, All sorts and conditions of garments, all of a diminutive size bespoke the occupation of the weary, toil-worn mother of small children, Mrs. Denelle glanced up, with a pair of tiny, dilipidated socks in her hand, and her tired face grew more careworn, as she suppressed a weary sight, “Daughter, the very thought of your being forced into a loveless marriage breaks my heart. If you do not—can- not—learn to care for Mr, Dysart” — Lucia shrugged her graceful shoulders disdainfully—*‘then I will say no more. But he is good and kind, He offers to settle a handsome income upon me, so that the children can be properly edu- cated, He offers to lift the mortgage from this place, and secure it to me free of all incumbrance; also to refurnish and beautify the house, Really, my dear, Woodland would be a lovely place, with some necessary improve- ments, and with means sufficient to keep the grounds in order, And when I reflect upon our forlorn condition since vour poor father’s death, and glance about me at the six little ones— all younger than you, to be fed and clothed and educated upon the mere pittance which is left me from your father's life insurance—it makes my heart stand still, And Mr. Dysart loves you. His elegant home is near enough, fo that I would not have to lose you altogether. Oh, Lucia, darl- ng, I would never consent for you to go far away.” “Not even to Italy, mammie?”’ The girl's sweet face had grown ten- dor and gentle. She came to her mother’s side, and drew the unfinished mending from her hands, “Therel Jet me do it, mamma, Truly I am not tired. I've only given a music lesson this morning. Now, mammie’’—with a mischievous smile, which did not conceal the undercurrent of anxiety in her heart—*‘answer mel Mayn’t 1 go to Italy as Stuart Harland’s wife?” “Good heavens!” Mrs, Denelle started to her feet, pale and trembling like a leaf, “Stuart Harland! a poor artist, Oh, Laelia, this is madness!” “Mamuna, I love him!” “Madness—madoessl’’ repeated thé mother brokenly., “Lucia, I would rather see you dead. You are poor en- ough now.” ’ “Mamma!'—-the girl's face was grave and resolute—**I cannot endure the thought of giving you pain, but I do not love Mark Dysart, and I have given my whole heart to Stuart Harland, and can never marry any one else,’ Mrs, Denelle was wringing ber hands in bitter sorrow. Neither of them ob- served the tall, dark figure in the over- grown grounds without, lying at full length upon the garden s:&t, his bat drawn over his eyes, A man of middle age, with dark Drown hair and beard just touched with gray, keen gray eyes, and severe ex- pression, The two women went on with: Lhe discussion, and never dreamed of the listener without. “1 would not willingly grieve or cross youn, Lucia,” Mrs, Denelle was saying sadly, **but I shall never give my con- sent.” “Then — rebelliously — ““we shall either have to marry without it, or-— forgive me mamma’’—with a little ery of pain at sight of her mother’s distress, “No, I would never do that, But I would be doomed to a life of loneliness and unhappiness; and I kuoow that would make you unhappy, toe.” Mrs, Denelle made no y, and Lucia went on with the before her, All day long she worked; cook ing, ironing, and mending for the noisy, mischievous six, filled the time to over- flowing. But Lucia, pale and patient, worked away, and ing was un- done, When the sun had set and twilight ien over the green earth like a benediction, when the last youngster was tucked away in his little bed, then , She threw a fleecy white wrap about and went out into the softly, I have spoken to the mother, I wished to prepare her for your intend. ed interview to-morrow; but, Stuart, it is quite useless—quite. She will never consent to our marriage; and-—I cannot blame her, poor little mother! It would be separation for us both, per- haps forever. Oh, Stuart, Stuart!’— the golden head went down upon his shoulder, and the sweet voice broke in- to sobs and tears--*‘I cannot give you up!” Pana you shall not,” he murmured tenderly, “We will wait, dearlove.” “I shall be old and gray and ugly,”’ she was beginning. But he stooy red lips, “You may be as old as Methuselah, and gray as a badger—ugly you never can be under any circumstance, little woman!-—but you shall be my wife just the same. I will never give youup.” And so their troth was pledged anew; and Stuart Harland went home through the silvery moonlight with a tender smile upon his lips, and his dark eyes shining with a happy light, “I wonder who this fellow can be of whom Lucia told me to night,”’ he queried, as he walked along. “It is a new arrival here, who has purchased Beechwood — grand old place — and Lucia says she met him last summer while she was away in the West teach« ing school. A rich western merchant, and—by Jove! who is that?” A tall, dark form loomed up before him in the moonlight; an elderly man, at sight of whom Stuart involuntarily halted, **Mr, Harland, is it not?" began the stranger, quietly, “I would like a few words with you, sir, if you please.” Stuart bowed, **As many as you like, Mr, ——u “Dysart. My name is Mark Dysart, Stuart Harland, did you ever hear that name before?’ **Never, to my knowledge, until to- night,’’ the young man returned quiet- ly. **Can I serve you in any way, Mr. Dysart?” “Yes, I love Miss Lucia Denelle, If you were out of the way she might learn to care for me; and I am sure that once my wife she would love me, for I would be so kind and tender to her that I could not fail to win her in time, Mr. Stuart Harland, I understand that you are a struggling young artist, poor and proud, Oh, you need not get an- gry, I did not mean any insult; I was speaking for your good. I will make you this proposition; I agree to pay all your expenses to Italy where you can perfect yourself in your art, 1 will do more, 1 will make your name famous; for, no matter how fine an artist you may be, the world will nevar believe it until sume rich and Influential man says so. I will do all this for you; I will make you the richest and most famous artist of the day upon one condition.” “And that?” Stuart Harland’s voice trembling. “Is—that you resign all pretensions to Lucia Denelle’s hand! That you go away and leave the coast clear. What do you say?" Trembling like a leaf, pale as mar- ble, his great dark eyes blazing with in- dignation, Stuart turned with unlifted hand, “Only your gray hairs deter me from chastising yoa as you deserve!”’—he ground the words forth between his set teeth, “Out of my path, Mark Dysart, or I shall forget myself, and striks you down at my feet] “Softly, softly, young man!” cried the other, lightly. *‘I meant no harm. 1 was appealing to your worldly wisdom, but I see—— Young man, give me your hand! I have applied a severe test, and I find I was right in my be- lief, Come home with me, Stuart Har- iand, I have a story to tell you.” ». -. » * . * Two days afterwards Mrs. Denelle saw upon Lucia’s white forefinger a magnificent diamond ring. The red blood rushed to the widow's pale cheeks in a sudden flood. Na Lucia going to be sensible, after all? “My dear’’—a dubious glance at the ring—*‘I think you ought not to con- ceal anything from your own mother! Is it all settled, Lucia?" “Yes, mamma—all settled; and I am the very happiest girl alive.” And the white arms went around Mrs. Denelle's neck, and I.ucia’s lips were pressed against her mother’s, “Mamma, it is all so strange! I can scarcely believe it even yet! But''--ghe stopped short, blushing prettily—‘'‘they are coming!” “They” proved to be Stuart Harland and Mr, Dysart. Mrs. Denelle looked profoundly sur- prised as the two men, arm-in-arm, en- tered the cool, airy room where she sat, “My dear Mrs, Denelle,”’ began Mark Dysart, at once, *““I have wonderful news to tell you! This young man here, Mr. Stuart Harland, is my dead sister's only child, and, being next of kin, be will be sole heir to my posses- sions, I have proved his worth, I tempted him with everything that the human heart can crave--riches, fame, power—if he would relinquish his claim upon your daughter's heart. But he spurned my every offer, and would have nished me for my audacity had I not an old man. Mrs, Denelle, this has all been a plot of mine from the very first. I wanted to prove Stuart Harland’s worth, I desired to make and kissed the sweet 1 iG Ninoun; or The Surgeon's Story What I &m about to say I want you to keep an eternal secret. Never breathe it ton living soul, I married young. My wife was a beautiful woman and I loved her madly. I believed that I could trust her and that she was fond of me, but it seems I was deceived. I came home one night unexpectedly and was surprised to hear a man’s voice in her room. Her brother Charles, I knew, was away, #o I held my breath and listened again, This is what I heard: “And vou are sure of your maid, Ninon¥*? “Oh, ves; she has been true to me for years, And no one else is in our se- cret, or knows that you are even here,” He laughed wickedly. “Iam thinking of my wife and your husband. ~~ What an agreeable surprise it would be for them to see us now? But tell me one thing—-has he never suspected anything? The child-—what of that?” She hid her beautiful face in his breast with a smile, and murmured: *‘If he thinks it is his own, Clarence, I am to undeceéive him!” What! was I dreaming? Would they not even leave me that one sweet hope, the hope of holding a child—Ninon’s child and mine, in my arms, ere many weeks had passed awayl Oh, my God! had I been duped and fooled so miser- ably as this? The room whirled before me and if I had not leaned against the wall for support I should have fallen, I opened my eyes at last and looked at them once more, He was a large, the darkest eyes and hair and beard 1 had ever seen, Lying in his arms my wife looked like a mere child, and her Saxon beauty was heightened by the strong contrast between them. He was no stranger to me, He had often grasped my hand in friendly greeting; often spoken words of courtesy to her while she leaned upon my arm and I had never dreamed of this, Even while 1 thought of all these things, he bent over her, gathering her closer to his breast; she flung ber arms around his neck, and ber lips were meeting his! Oh! that roused me from the stupor in. to which I had been plunged so long, and the sharp report of my pistol rang through the room in an instant, and then 1 was beside them! She screamed, and fell at my feet, as her lover sank back, shot through the heart, and a dead man. But I spurned her from me; and rushing from the house I whistled to my horse, who was crazing quietly where I had left him, and rode away like a madman, Before th: morning broke I was in France and safe from all pursuit, After fleeing from my home on that terrible night I went to America, to one of the wild Western of medicine, of which I had always been passionately fond. I heard no more of Ninon—indeed, I dropped inter- course with the friends who had known ber and tried to forget mv folly of a year. By degrees I grew cold and in. different and what little heart I had to bestow was given to my profession. I grew mors and more absorbed in its secreta, and so much of my time was dents used to advise me to take up my abode there altogether and to avoid the bors of coming home each night to sleep, And I am sure that I should have been well pleased to have done so, The college was not a well.endowed one; there were few professors, and but little enthusiasm among the classes But after I came a subject was started which roused us ali-the subject of galvanism, It was settled that we should obtain a ‘‘subject’’ privately and experiment ourselves, without the knowledge of our Protoss, who would have put a stop to it, We had proposed dissecting the body after our experiments had been tried and the scalpel and the knives lay ready at its head, while pails and sponges for catching the blood were lying beneath the boards. On the table stood also three small phials—one Siis ding liquid ammonia, one prussic acid the other sulphuric ether, They had all been used during some chemical experi- ments that afternoon and had not poet taken back to their places in the laboratory. I busied myself in arranging the wires of the battery, when an exclamation from the students made me look up, “What is it?" I asked, ‘It is a female subject and the most beautiful form I have ever seen. It seems almost a pity to desecrate” — I laughed sarcastically and stopped him in the speech he was going to make, I hated all women on account of one, and [ think I was glad to be able to offer any indignity to her sex. watched me in si the wires; but as vulsive tremor played over softly as the wind might play o sleeping lake, there was a cry of horror, and they tore me by main force from the battery, and dashed the wires AWAY. “Are you mad?” I eried “Good God! don’t you alive?’! replied the one who had she ij : fe £ it to have her oneé more so near my heart, even in that hour of agony and remorse, ® All was still as death in the room, You could hear every laboring breath she drew as plainly as if it had been a groan, I snatched a cordial from the table and held it to her lips, She drank from the phial, and just as I caught sight of the label, I saw that I had given her the prussic acid! I hurled the phial from me with a heavy groan; but it was too late, and she was dying a death which would this time be sure and rapid, I fell upon my knees beside her, and frantically implored her for- givenes, but she hated me even then! {er glazing eyes were turned on me to the last, and she gasped out with a breath, ‘Oh, I will haunt you!” She has kept her word, I am home in England again under an assumed name, I dream of her by night and she curses me for killing her lover. By day, whenever I am alone, I seem to feel her presence, like some vulture spirit waiting for my death, I will see her again still, I belleve, though abe 1s buried thousands of miles away. It’s madness, I suppose, Bixby Was Calm, One of the Bixby children was seized with a fit of croup the other night, Bixby heard the little fellow’s labored breathing, and bounding clear over the | footboard of the bed, yelled “Croup!” | in about the same voice that the escap- | od idiot yells “Fire!” at the theatre, Then he tried to put his trousers on over his head, but Bnally got them on wrong side out, and tore into his shirt with it wrong side in front, “Jump!” he screamed to his wife, “There isn't a second to lose! Get the syrup of squills!l Put ona tub of hot water! Give him something to drink! Get hot flannels on his chest instantly! Hurry! hurry! Don’t lie there doing nothing while the child is choking to death! Fly around!” Mrs, Bixby is one of those meek but eminently sensible and practical little women who never get a tenth part of the credit for the good they do in this world, While Bixby was racing up and down stairs, declaring that nobody was doing anything but himself, Mrs, Bixby quietly took the little sufferer in band, “Do sometiing quick!” screeched Bixby, as he upset a pan of hot water on the bed and turned a saucer of melt- ed lard over the dressing-case. “Here, somebody, quick!’ he yelled, “Can't anybody do a thing but me? Run for the doctor, some of you. Give the child some more squills. Is there anything hot at his feet? Give him aconite, He ought to have a spoon of oil. If he don't get relief instantly he'll die, and here there's nobody trying to do a thing but me! Bring him some warm water with a little zoda in it. He ought to have been put into a hot bath an hour ago. Heat up the bath-room! What's on his chest! Great Heavens! has the child got to die because no one will do a thing for him?" Mrs. Bixby quietly and brings the child around all right and sits with him until daylight, after she hag quieted Bixby down and got him to wd. And next morning he had the gall to say at the office: “One of my little chaps nearly died with croup last night, and I had mighty hard work bringing working like 8 Trojan all night. It's a terrible disease and scares women near- ly to death. They fly all to pieces right off. A person wants their wits about them. You want to keep perfectly cool and not fool away a second in hys. terica, That's where a man has the advantage over a woman in managin a case of croup. It's mighty lucky was at home to take my little chap in wand, The Air of Colorado. All the resorts of Colorado known to me where one can obtain the comforts of life essential to improvement are at at an altitude of several thousand feet and this fact or some other unexplained cause seems to creale a necessity re- quiring those who improve or recover there to continue their residence in or- der to maintain their improvement, I can not elaim that this theory has been proven, but it is sufficiently believed to demand consideration. So many inva- lids have been sent to Colorado only to die, being beyond the bility of re- covery anywhere, that I think addition ai knowledge from careful observation ot results ov essential to ns formation a satisfactory opinion in regard to the effects upon those seriously diseased, For those slightly diseased, or with a delicacy arising from hereditary ten- dency, Colorado seemingly ought to be of best resorts. It has one in having its moun. tain resorts and altitudes for sum- mer within a few hours frem Denver. FASHION NOTES, -Bedford cord is a handsome Woolen material, resembling corduroy without the velvet finish, -Booteh plaid plush is 8 novelty In dress fabrics, destined to have a cer. tain popularity with dressy young women, ~Single flowers of velvet arranged at certain caretully spaced distances on ball dresses of white tulle add to their charming effect, ~Plain velvet and plush are less fashionable than the changeable or florescent velvets in two colors, like the “shot”? silks, ~~ pera wraps of plush, velvet and Persian camel’s halr are trimmed with a bordering of crinkled Persian goat fur, which resembles the liama trim- wing, formerly so much admired but it is more shaggy in effect, ~-For “Autumn” a short dress of brown tulle, or pet, made with short gathersd body and trimmed with au. tumnal foliage and clusters of hazel nuts nestling ig the folds, is pretty and becoming, ~* ‘Summer*’ may be carried out in a gracefully draped dress of poppy red crepe, trimmed with trails of wild hops and wild roses, Butterflies on quiver. ing fine wire stems can be sparingly used with excellent effect, A eoncert tollette has the full front and skirt in Henrletta cream color cloth, with ruby velvet waist trimmed with garnet besded passementerie, The back of skirt is also of the same shade of velvet, laid in pleats at the waist, ~A gracefal mo lel of serpent green cloth is trimmed elaborately with de- signs in braided effects upon the skirt in ashes of rose color, The corsage is trimmed with gracefully arranged fold draperies and braiding of the same shade and style. — Wedgewood isa quaint and orig- inal idea for a fancy dress, The sateens are done in true Wedgewood tints. The gown may be fashioned in any one of the many tints of the right shade, and classical Kate Greenaway figures in soft white material appliqued on. —A stylish model for a street cos- tume Is made of Gobelin biue cloth, with graceful drapery in the back. The front is mada of striped moire in two shades, Jacket bodice, with striped vest; a hat of felt of a corres. ponding shade to dress, with changeable moire ribbon and feathers trimming it, completes the costume, trayed In white satin, plentifully trimmed with swansdown, and may be made in the form of a polonaise cut long and meeting the swansdown gar- mitures of the skirt. A tiny muff of swansdown, lined with vivid crimson, and a swansdown hood or cap complete the costume, —The new house jackets of armured pilot cloth, made in rich, dark colors, | whether zouave, Russian or Hungarian { in style, are trimmed in military fash. fon, with epaulets, high collar and re- these covered with handsome | gold $8 20 vu Shem entarien in fine ara- bésque or { of the rich silk-cord ornaments—placques, grelots, pendelogues and like garnitures, -For a quadrile of four sisters or friends the four seasons make a strik- | ing and pretty group. We lately saw a | “Spring” clad in a very charming lit- | tie polonaise of pale greén satin of ex- i quisite tint, gathered high on one side lover a skirt of moss-green velvel, 'eaught up with a bunch of daffodills and & trail of ivy. The polonaise was lnced with a silk Iscer the eolor of the skirt, and more deiTodills and ivy were prettily grouped in the front of this altogether harmonious and bewitching dress, ~As this is the season for fancy balls and highjinks the fellowing de- scription of a few fancy costumes will prove of Interest: Fancy dress, unlese carefully chosen, is apt to accsutuate the age of ladies who have passed their first youth, Especially is tiiis the case when a costume even slightly more juvenile than the wearer's years warrant is de- cided upon. A fancy dress Injudi- eicusly will make a woman look faded and worn who in an ordinary gar- ment is really pretty and fresh lookiag, This is not to discourage them, but he : : i i : 2 g 2 | F ® i | ¥ < i £ i : A ® fia; i i i ed HORSE NOTES. — Robert Steel will trot Eflis next season, ~There are two pool-rooms in operas tion In New Orleans, ~—Jay-Eye-Bee Is wintering at Mr, Case’s farm in Wisconsin, ~—William Donohue will probably ride for Mr, Belmont next year. ~A. Touden Snowden has sold his b. m. Nora Temple to Robert Steel. ~-Ben Vincent has been engaged to ride for Ed Corrigan next season, ~Rosaline Wilkes has joined Harry J Hien and Gossip, Jr., at Morristown, — Frank Rector wlll care for the colts at Willlnm Disston’s Mount Pleasant Stock Farm this winter, ~The old trotter Great Eastern, with the fastest saddle record (2.15%), is owned in Frederick, Md, ~Dr. D. L. Hughes, of Keokuk, Ia., owns the pacer Bichball, record 2.12}, and drives him on the road, ~The stallion Director (2.17) has ar- rived at Mr. Saulsbury’s farm near Pleasanton, in Almeda eounty, Cal. —J. B. Haggin lost recently at Mon- mouth Park the chestnut colt Mer- cury, foaled 1885, by King Ban, dam Flora. ~-olonel Snowden has soid his team, Florence and mate, which he recently purchased at the Bailey sale in New York, —The stallion Domestic has sc far recovered as to be abis to be moved from Detroit, where he has been since last July. ~—R. W. Thomas, who trained Mr. Honig’s horses this year, has engaged with **Lucky” Baldwin at a salary of $10,000, for next year. Ed. Corrigan has sent Pearl Jen- nings to California to be bred to Grin- stead, instead of selling the mare to Mr Baldwin, as reported, ~— Edward C. Amer has stopped driv- ing, and has given all his stable effects, including two wagons, harness, ete, , to his friend Dr. Lobb, — Tompkins, the jockey, was fined $25 recently at New Orleans for slip ping weight after having been weighed to ride Pail Lewis, — Both Ormonde and Bendigo have been retired from the turf to the stud. Bendigo will be placed at Biankney with Hermit and Galopin. ~ Hon, leland Stanford, of Call. fornia, will drive W. M. Humphrey's 5-year-0ld Electioneer gelding on the road ut Washmgton this winter, -—F. C. Robbing has bought of John H. Cox the brood mare Mollie Garfield, formerly Dollie Fone, record 2 264, and her 4 months<ld colt by Manchesier, ~The Dwyer Brothers have pur- chased of Mr, John Hannegan, of Mill. dale, Ky., the bay filly Oesan, two years, by Imp. Billet, dam Sabina, by Lexington, ~J. H. Temple, formerly owner of Harry Wilkes, Albert France, J. Q. and other noted trotters, has formed a partnership with Jesse DD. Grant, and will figure in Wall street as 2 stock operator, ~—Trainer John W. McClelland did not accompany Mr. Baldwin’s horses to California, and will not have charge of the Santa Anita stable next year, as he is quite ill at present at Louisville. Prominent the candidates for free-for-all honors next season will be Harry Wikes, Belle Hamlin Prince Wilkes, Clingstone, Patron, Oliver K, Araband J. Q —Feakes will succeed Littlefield ae trainer of the Preakness stable. L.ittle- fieid will retire solely because he thinks he will find it more profitable to train a stable of his own than troining for any one elss, ~The b. m. Gazelle, 2.21, dy Rysdik’s Hambletonian, dam Hattie Wood, by Willis’ Harry Clay, died No vember 10, at Saugatuck, Mich,, of in- flammation of the bowels. Gazelle waa foaled 1865, and owned by Stimson & Co. —Mr, Siddall has asnt the great pacer Johnston and the trotter McLeod to Crit Davis at Harrodsburg, Ky. Davis will bave a powerful stable next season. The honest and capable trainer never wants for friends. ~The plan has been tned in Aus tralia of using semaphores, such as are in use at ramlroad crossings in this country, Secretary of the Washington Park Club, of Chicago. in regand to arrang- ing a race meeting to follow the spring meeting at St. Louis, i Feil 8S = dh:
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers