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
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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.
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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
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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