The Way to Fairy-Laad. What is the way to fairy-land? ‘Which is the road to take? Over the hills, or over the sand ‘Where the river ripples break? The hills stand listening night and day As if to a wonderful tale; The river whispors along its way Secrets to every sail. They must be listening and whispering there With the falry-folk, I know; For what but this 1s the sound in the air Bo sweet, and soft, and low?— The sound that floats o'er the misty hills, And runs with a little shiver, As of a thousand musical trills, Over the running river. © hills that stand so lofty there, Listening night and day, Listen to me and show me where The fairy-folk do stray! And river, river, whisper low, Whisper me low and sweet, Tell me the secrets that you know Of the fairy-folk's retreat. - A MOTHER'S STORY. I was bitterly discontented that morning, and there is no use denying it, discontented with my home, my husband, with everything, even with my baby. I remember the morning well, it was gray and cloudy, with a heavy mist that chilled me to the bone, and hung the trees with a reeking moisture, The black mud about the door of our western home was thick and deep, and the bare floor of our cab- in room was badly stained and soiled by the careless feet of the rough shod workingmen, 1 had been cleaning up all the morning, but the more I cleaned the werse matters seemed to grow, and when a sudden puff of wind whirled the smoke and ashes down the pipe of my cooking stove, covering the books aud table 1 had just cleaned off, I threw myself in the rocking chair and burst into a flood of tears. The remembrance of the nice little cottage, with its low breezy windows, and its clean, well ordered rooms, adorned with all those charming useful little things, that go so far toward mak- ing a home pleasant and atiractive— that was our home before the western fever seized us. It was my first home and a woman always loves that home better than any other. We were very happy, Ned and I, as cosy as two reblins in a summer apple tree, Ned wasa clerk, but with as good a salary as any clerk in the place, and when out baby came, “Little Sunbeam?’ as we called her, our happiness was indeed complete. But after a while this new rapture began to cool, and as “Little Sun- beams blue eyes deepened and expand- ed, Ned began to cast abouthimina sage and fatherly manner, “We must do the best we can for our darling’s sake, Luey.” Ife had caught the western fever, “Westward the star of empire makes its way,” Ned quoted, with telling em- phasis, adding, * We must follow, Lucy, and build upa name and a home for Little Sunbeam.” I assented, as I always did, to Ned’s plans though in my secret heart I felt that the movement was a bad one. We sold our pretty home and furni- ture, at a considerable sacrifice, Ned left his clerkship, and the winter after western hone, Ned had urged me to bring a mad- of-all-work with me, but in a fit of high-strung herdism I determined to do the housework myself. Ned would have to sacrifice his ease and comfort, I would not be behind him, It was comparatively light in the be- ginning, when there were only Ned and myself to provide for. But after a while the hired man came and the baby required more attention every day. The fall rains set in, converting the spon soil into black adhearing mud. 1 work- od late and early, and found It immpos- sible to keep our rude home In anything like good order, I bore up as long as I could; but at last my strength utter- ly failed, and sitting down in the near- est chair I sobbed like a silly child, I thought of my old home, of the hours of pleasant leisure and social enjoyment to which I had been accustomed, and then, with a fresh burst of tears, I Jooked around the small untidy room In which I was imprisoned, It was wrong in Ned to bring me to such a place, and against my will, too, 1 thought bitterly; and a feeling of homesickness took pos- session of me, such weariness and lone- liness as to make me wish I were dead. At that moment I heard the voice of the sick hired man calling for water, Catching up the pitcher, I brushed away the tears and ran to the rude loft where he Jay. As i reached the bed I saw by the sun it was almost noon, and dinner was to cook for Ned and the hired men. Giving the invalid his * water, I paused a moment to mix a portion of the medicine for him, My thoughts full of smoking stove, and distasteful duties that awaited me he- low, and just then, shrill and clear, came Little Sunbeam’s cry. I threw down the dows 1 was mixing, Exclaim ing angrily: “It's no use; 1 can’t get a no matter how hard try. What oatl1 1 do? Oh, dear! I wish I had no baby!’ My very fingertips thrilled with Pi 1 og terrible wish had passed my 1i clean at one I to the corner of the room where the crib stood, eager to siasp her to my bosoms Sud pout out my remorse in tearsand kisses. The was empty—Litfle Sunbeam was For a moment I stood dumb and Smet, then a swift thought came to my ‘Ned has stolen her to frighten me I cried, and rushed out, I searched evaryw to find him, but in vain, mist was thickening into ram, I knew well enough that he was too, care- her in such way. It wascrnel in him to frighten wish of mine, Half a mile from the house I met him and the men coming home to din. ner. He started torward the moment he caught sight of me. “Oh, Lacy, what's the matter? Is the baby sick?” One glance at his white face convine- ed me that my hope was vain, Yet I cried out: *You'vegot thechild, Ned, you know you have; don’t torture me any longer!” ‘Lucy, in the name of heaven, what do you mean?” “She's gone! You stole her to fright. en me, Ned,” “No; on my soul, Lucy!” “Then she’s gone, God has granted me my wish, Oh, mv baby, my baby!” I was rushing past him, but he caught and held me fast, commanding me to tell him all, and 1 did. And then his after words thrilled my soul with hor. ror. “The Indians! the Indians, boys!’ he cried. **They passed us, you know, They must have stolen her. Come!" They followed him without a word, and so did I, Over the spongy prairie mud, the chill wind and driving rain beating in our faces; down to the shore of the river we followed their tracks, But we were too late, The last canoe was moored on the opposite shore, My wish had been granted. Ihad no baby, Little Sunbeam could not be found, although our efforts were ' ceaseless, Her crib remained in its corner, with the impress of her head still on its pil- low, but the little laughing face was gone from us forever. I had ample time to perform all my household duties then, No little quiv- ering to detain me when I was busy, no clinking hands holding mine and keeping them idle. My wish was grant- ed me—I had no baby. Oh! the desolate, inconsolable sorrow of the lonsly days that followed, no tongue can tell, the tender longing, the sharp, stringing remorse, But we lived and worked, for life and labor must go on, no matter how sore and weary our hearts may be. At theend of five years Ned was cons dered a well-to-do-farmer, He could look out over broad fields of waving grain; he had been prosperous in raising stock; he had realized his most sanguine hopes, He had built up not only a home but a name, in this new country. We had a beautiful house and luxurious furniture, birds and flowers, fine pictures and books, nice horses and carriages, in fuct all the possessions that go to make up a happy home, for Ned had fine taste, But we were childless, Little Sunbeam had never come back, and God had given us no other child to fill her place, Poor Ned! That unforgotten sorrow, together with hard work, had made him an old man before his time, The silver threads were thick on his temple, and the furrows on his forehead deeply cut. When we went back to our old home, the friends of his youth did not recognize him. His step once buoyant and elastic had the slow gait of an old man. His life had lost its impelling aim and motion. 1 was in hopes a visit to our old home in Ohio would help him, but in this [ was disappointed, so with sad hearts we started on our jour- ney to our western home, going a little who lived in Chicago and vicinity. One night in the great city we were returning from the opera, when a child's viice startled us. *‘Please, sir,” it said “give me a penny to buy some bread.” It was mid-winter, the pave- ments were glazed with ice, and the stars overhead glittered in the cold, blue sky like 80 many points of steel I was dreaming of my home in the far west, and longing for the hour of my return to come, A strange feeling of tender- ness Cound me to spot where I lost my Little Sunbeain. The little cabin still stands; we reghrd it as the tomb of our dear one, 1 could not bear to be so far from it, because of a foolish fear that she might come back and 1 not be tuere to welcome her, The sad pititul voice broke in upon my reverie, and glancing out of the carriage window I saw a small, childish figure, a tiny hand reaching toward a, biue and stiff with cold. *“Stop, Ned! I shan’t close my to-night if we pass that child.” My husband started up from his stupor and obeyed me, “What do you want little one?” he asked, kindly, bending over and taking the child’s hand in his, “A penny, please, sir, Yo buy a loaf for granny, she's sick.”’ Ned took some change from his pocket but I Sangh his arm before he dropped it into the little waiting hand. Something in the soft blue eyes, ing up so pleadingly, thrilled my heart to its inmost core, 1 yearned to take the little shivering form to my breast, to stroke back tangled golden hair from the want-pinched face, “Take her up, Ned,” I entreated; ‘‘she’ll freeze if we leave her here. We can take her wherever she lives,” Good-natured, patient Ned, who never denies me, complied. Down dark ud Jon streets, into one of Welowest nw poverty, up a tof stairs into a cheerless Rg guided us, An old woman lay upon a bed of straw, her face ish hue which Is the unmistakable pre- cursor of death, “Have yor come?’ she questioned, tagerly, as we entered; “‘give me some The child ran to her side and began stroking back her gray hair, “A good lady year or more, madam?” “Where are the clothes she had on?" asked Ned and I; in the same breath, She gave each of us a keen, search- ing glance, and then pointed to the trunk, Ned lost no time in opening it, There they were folded carefully, the dainty, embroidered slip, the tiny bib, and one crimson stocking. Its mate lay in the bottom of my bureau drawer in my far western home, “Oh, Ned,” I cried, “it is Little Sun- beam!’’ but already he had her in his arms, “God be praised! We've found her ot last, Wp all he said. wi 5 > grown young again, thoug his hair is still silvered. His cheeks are red, his eyes are bright, and his step as light as before we met with our great trouble, Sunbeam is full growing now, and there is no happier famlly in Kan- sas than ours, Kind reader, I have told you a true story, hoping that if any of you feel that the burdens of life are more than Jou can bear, that your children are a urden and a hindrance to you, you will remember this poor stricken mother— how the memory of that wish rankled in her soul all through the weary years of search, of the joy and peace that came to them with the finding of their child, Remember that “God's ways are not our ways,” Two Festivals, And What Came of Them, It was a festal day in that beautiful Italian town. Bells were ringing, the streets were carpeted with flowers and everywhere reigned gayety and mirth, One man, however, kneeling in the shadow of the cathedral, did not feel the spell of the occasion, nor did he lift his eyes as the gay conc urse swept hy, He was only a tanner named Sandro Ginotti, and all the love of his life was wrapped up in his children—his daugh- ters Lua and Lassia, He was praying for ’Lassia, now in the shadow of the church, Ons day when she was only sixteen an artist who had noticed her beauty asked to paint her, and from that day she be- came tired of her quiet life, To cap the climax, in the midst of her discontent Carlo Guidi asked her to He was a wood-carver and quick at his trade and they had plighted their love as children, but she sent him on his way with a merry good. by. The next morning Guidi was not at his work and by and by it was reported that he had been met far away in the valley, going along the road that takes one to Rome, 'Sandro Ginotti, heard-—no, he scarce ly knew whether he had heard or not for on the night before, when the sun set, and all the folks of the Contrada 4’ Oca were going to bed. ’'Lassia was not to be found, She had gone. But where? In comparison to the loss of one’s Couldn't you take her, friend? Nothing at all, nothing at all, And ’Sandro Ginotti, with all his sim- ple life and single-heartedness, had a horrible fear; had *Lassia gone towards Florence? The signor who had painted her as the rapturous saint had gone there he had a studio there, Days and weeks passed, Great folks might have known many ways of search, but what did "Sandro or the country people about him know? ‘“"Lassia would not come back,” said the women, when "Sandro’s back was turned. When Lina’s back was turned, too, for Lina had grown silent and proud, and no one would have dared to whisper or to give a sign which should suggest that unspoken evil con cerning Lina’s sister, No; Lina minded the house, and tended her father and the children and sewed and cooked; but she moved about like a stern, proud woman, in- Read of the bright, simple girl she had n, Then one day Lina shut her door and sat down to write a letter, There was a great misery all about her; the very fact of the door being shut, and no sweet sunlight being able to pour in upon her, made ‘her feel worse, Was always an out-of-door life? Now a thing had come Wo her which banished the old life altogether, She had waited, but no news had come, and one way she saw by which tidings of some sort might be found, There was an sunt, So much for the news. And on the lovely festa Sandro had been praying since sunrise, He heeded not the festa, he heard no bells ringing, he only went into the big cathedral as soon as the doors would i gd Es i i ] her throat her new orange silk kerchief, By and by as the sun rose she would take it from her neck and would tie it over her head; now the pale young ssn was light, and not scorching as he would be long befers mid-day, Where would she be at mid-day! She did not know, she did not think, Bhe gathered up a small bundle from the dim room, and with a quick change of manner—a change that for the mo- ment made her like her gay young sister —ghe cried: “Avanti I padre mio I? Then she linked her brown haud in his, and with a quick, firm step she was out in the cool, din street. People were moving; the air was full of the pungent smell of the tanneries; there was the chirp of waking birds and the splash of the near-by fountain of Fontebranda. Lina hurried her father along. She, too, was going away —going to walk to Florence to seek 'Lassia, 'Landro walked silently by her side for half an hour, then he turned abrupt- x from her and went back to his work. fe pulled Lis old hat over his eyes, he would not watch Lina out of sight, People talked for a while, but soon their own affairs steadied their tongues, and they gave up Ginott1 and his, One and another neighbor helped him with the children, and he got on, The next thing was that Carlo Guidi came back; he had gone away in a pas- sion, but the passion had cooled, and he turned his face toward his beloved hill- city. He would not trouble about 'Lassia Ginotti, he would devote him- self to his art; he would make himself a second Barill, whose wood-carving is so famous; he would He came back and found no 'Lassia, no Lina, all the glad house desolate, All his anger changed to grief. The truth of the matter was that gay, wild ‘Lassie was the light of his eyes, nay, the very soul of his soul. And he did no work at all, A letter care at last from Lina, She wis with her aunt; 'Lassia was there too, but "Lassia had been impetuous and angry, and had declared she would not be taken home, She knew she had been wrong, but she fought for her un- wise independence; she said sha would earn her living as a servant in Florence, Muc., she knew of things! She fell ill, and Lina had to give up every other thought except that of doing all in her power to keep her wilful young sister from slipping out of ber hands alto- gether, here was nothing to do but to walt, “To wait!" An easy word to say, a very hard word to act out, One more letter, the fover, but she was weak. But, the holy Madonna be praised! she was, as one might say, in her right mind, and when she could she wouid come home, Again the old hill city is in festa. Not this time a festa of the nation or of the church, but just a local affair alto. gether. For how many years and ages have the grand gamss of the Pailio been held in the great piazza! This year they are grander than ever, for royal princes and princesses are there, and the rooms that for so long have only been tenanted by grave lawyers or doughty soldiers are the first lady of Italy, The flower of the youth of the hill city play in theses sports. Honest and true lives and manly and stalwart frames, these are the possessions needed Who so tall and straight and strong as he? who has so quick an eye? who so ready a hand? The sun is hotter and hotter, but who cares? Every house is decorated; ban. ners, red, white and green, float from campanile and house-top, from every available point; every window has its crimson or blue or yellow cloth flung out, the place iu a very kaleidoscope of color; the women’s fresses and the masses of Sowers pale under the flying pennons overhead, Shouting and running, music of bands and the shrill call of the trumpets fill the air, How thronged the piazza is! Not a space for one more head! Is that the queen in the balcony by the old loggia? ~i8 that?-—is that? Don't talk; the race is over — the trumpets are letting every one know that, and Carlo Guidi is the winner. They are just in time; they have just coms into the city, and ’Sandro, their father, has met them. How he drags and pushes; how the people make a space for them! Sach a good-humored crowd an Italian crowd is Lina and *Lassia Ginott! look out and seo it all. There is Carlo Guidi his hat; his dark curly head is bowing down, down to the very saddle as he rides past the royal princes end prin- cesses, Now the next-—now the next! 1t all seems done in a minute, Carlo to-day, some time Can the story not end itself here? mI — A Sparrow and a Postage Stamp. IH E i j . i i: i Pi: 555 Fie FE 2 FASHION NOTES, — Por dressy mourning, black wat. ered silt, shirred or cord over a cone- shaped crown and bordered with a twist of silk and crape, is stylish, ~The long redingote, with visite sleeve, is the favorite mantle this win- ter. It is chiefly made of cloth, trim- med with fur and braiding. ~The very newest garniture is the ten-end bow, made of watered ribbon with ten-pointed drooping ends snd five or six upright loops closely strapped, It is worn at one side of the head-gear, and offset by a huge dahlia rosette on the other side, to the making of which in the height of style six yards of ribbon are necessary. ~—For young ladies very elegant tight-fitting jac are made of warm cloth, with plastron, collar and facings of astrakhan or beaver. The small muff of the same fur is fastened with a silk cord round the neck. It is in good taste to wear also the cloth cap or beret of the same cloth as the jacket, and trimmed with fur to match and with an algrette of feathers. ~In bonnets we note the Mervell- leux capote of white cloth braided with gold; the Dircetoire bonnet of black velvet with tuft of feathers, red and black, at the back; a very fanciful Francois I bonnet of red fell shaded with black plumes, and a delightful little capote of mouse-gray plush with draped border of the same, In front there is a bow of moire ribbon, and at the back two dove wings joined to- gether with a similar bow. --A very unique dinner gown re. cently noticed was made of Indienne or silk zephyr, which was of dust color, with wde interwoven borderings of gold, It was arranged with a kilted skirt, with the strips of gold embrojd- ery coming up the front. The upper skirt was draped in one long piece, the two front ends caught up and turned backward, forming panlers, a simple and original dea. Long ribbon bows fell at the side, and gold was inter- woven inte the bodice, ~ Velvet will never go cut of fash- ion, and it has come back with more favor this year than It has perhaps known for a long time, A magnifi- cent-looking gown of black velvet was embroidered in steel, the bodice draped with steel folds, Black and steel may be chosen with a certainty that they will remain the fashion for some time, Black tea-gowns were jetted lace, bo:dered with broad-bead galloon, drawn into the waist, --A very pretty dinner or evening gown for a young lady is of ciel-blue sicillenne. In front a rectangular panel forms a tablier. At the back there are two other panels slightly panels are quite apart one from the other, and fall over a skirt of blue gauze, trimmed round the foot with seven rows of satin ribbon put on in circles, The tablier is joined on to the panels by a strip of wide moire ribbon lala across, At the back is loosely tied a baby sash of moire ribbon. -The following is a charming model The skirt is of white lace, over which falls another skirt of emerald-gresn plush, This skirt Is quite round, but slit open on each side in the shape of a V, 80 as to show the lace flounces of the under. is edged on each nge of silk passe sash of white surah 18 loosely twisted and floished In two wide pela, By way of bodice = short ulgar : Hi THE je i i » 2 § Bie 1H iF 3] i 3 f i : isk i i of fi ; ] i Eri i : 8 ¢ : ; ; i : £ 5 i 5 i §é 2 i | : i : : § ’ i if £3 i i: i fil ail HORSE NOTES, — Judson EH, Clark, Genesee Valley Farm, Elmira, N. Y. has purchased Young Fullerton, 2,205. ~John Bheppard was driving Blon- dine, not Butterfly, when he was thrown out and injured, “Dod” Irwin has purchased the br, g. Bolitaire, record 2.88, from Mr, Armstrong, Fair Hill, Ma, ~The brood mare Ringlet, the property of B. J. Treacy, died re- cently at Ashland Park, Ky, ~W. H. Wilson, Abdallah Park, Cynthiana, Ky., says he sold $27,000 worth of horses last November. ~Charles Wheatly will 1a all prob- ability succeed Captain Coster as Sec retary of the American Jockey Club. ~John Splan says that he will han- die J. Q. (2.174), Governor Hill (2.90) and Lady Jerauld (2.24}) next season. ~The two malin barns at Parkville Farm, I, I., are being connected. a will give a structure over 600 feet g. ~Johs Madden has sold the g. g, Class Leader, 2.22}, to Colonel Loudon Bupwien, who will use him as a road 0rse, Dr. BR. V. Peirce, of Buffalo, N. Y., bas purchased the b. g. Black Prince, trial 2.28 from George Button for $1500. ~F, B, Harper, of the Nantura Stud, Midway, Ky., has lost two of his best-known broodmares in Gray Helen and Little Girl, —HRobert Steel has sold Veteran, 5 years old, by Happy Medium, to a gen- tieman of Chester county, Pa. Veteran trotted & mile in 2.41. —RBeport has it that James Murphy will train a portion of Ed. Corrigan’s string this season, and that Cal Fuller will ride for that section of the stable. ~The French Jockey Club adds $225,000 to stakes to be rum over Longchamps Course at its three meet ings, covering twenty-three days, in 1888, ~Mr. A. Smith McCann has pur- chassd the McCauley property, on East Maxwell street, Lexington, Ky., fer $18000, It contains five acres of land, ~—While playing in his paddock at Moblle recently the § yexr old colt Tommy Collins, in the string of Tom Stevens, broke his leg and was subse- quentiy shot, W. B. Jennings has purchased the ware Tellie Doe, by Great Tom, dam Nioa Turner, from W. P. Bureh, giv- ing in exchange Boccaccio, by Fletcher, and two 2 year olds, —A turf club, a sort of institution intended to promote social intercourse and enjoyment among borsemen during the winter months, was recently organ- ized at Lexington. ~Mr lee Paul left Lexington re- cently for Nashville, Tenn.,, with a string of twelve spankers, The most prominent were Terra Cotta Heron, Miss Royle and Don Hagent. ~The wellknown horse Mikado, winner of the Omnibus stakes of 1885, has been sent by Mr, Withers to Mr. T. C. Patteson, of Toronto, and will make the season in Canada, Mikado is a bay horse, bred by Mr. Withers, in 1882, and is a son of King Ernest, dam Mimi, by tmp. Eclipse. —Edwin Thorne contemplates a large reduction of his trotting stud this spring, amounting in effect to a for sale at suction in March. ~From an interstate standpoint the 912 entries for the Coney Island Futur- ty stake are divided as follows: Ken- tucky, 384; Pennsylvania, 128; Califor. nia, 136; New York, 95, Tennessee, 48; New Jersey, 45; Maryland, 29; Vir- i if ii
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers