Submission. Ohi» fastly the sparrow sings, And sweet the sound; and sweet the touch Of woolng winds; and sweet the sight Of happy ‘Natare's deep delight lu her fair spring, desired so much! But while so clear the sparrow sings, A ory of death is in my ear; The crashing of the riven wreck, Breakers that sweep the shuddering deck, And sounds of agony and fear. How is It that the birds can sing? Life is so full of bitter pain; Hearts are so wrung with hopeless grief; Woo is so long and joy so brief; Nor shall the lost return again. Though raptarously the sparrow sings, No bliss of Nature can restore The friends whose hands I clasped so warm, Hweet souls that through the night and storm Filed from the earth fore evermore. Yet sti} the sparrow sits and sings, Till longing, mourmng, sorrowing love, Groping to find what hope may be Within death's awful mystery, Hoaches its empty arms above; And, listening, while the sparrow sings And oft the evening shadows fall, Bees, through the crowding tears that blind, A little light, and seems to find And clasp God's hand, who wrought it all DISAPPOINTED. Hugh Deverley never meant to marry. He had been of that way of thinking for ten years or more now, and he was at present six-and-thirty. His sister, Mrs. Valentine, was there. fore quite safe in countirg so confident- ly upen his portion of the Beverley property going to her two little boys, one of whom was his bachelor uncle’s | godchild and favorite, Hugh Beverley had no earthly objec tion to Lier thus counting. Only he sometimes wished she would not make her anticipations so visible, 1t would be in better taste to veil them more, However, p:or Clara had always been rather worldly, And with tins reflec- tion Beverley folded that lady's last letter—scented and sealed with a crest and walked down the stairs of the little Tyrolean inn, where he was temporar- ily stopping in his wanderings, and out upon the covered balcony, which com- | manded a view of the ( uaintly pictures- que village street, He had been sitting there with a weditalive cigar some little time when hurried footsteps roused him from his reverie, and he saw a slender slip of a girl, very young, and looking very frightened and white, hastily accost the lardlord and speak to him. The man gave some reply, and the girl turned quickly, almost running up | the street. Mine host sauntered into! the house and presently re-emerged, “A bad bus ness—a bad business!” shaking his bead. ‘That lady is very i]? **The mother of that young girl?” asked Beverley, puiting two and two together. **Yes; they've been here some weeks, The mother’s been going rapidly. Bad business—bad business! The girl, poor | thing! did not seem to fear anything serious. Guess there isn’t much money either,” concluded the man, evidently wi his own interests intent, “Who are they—Americans?"” que- red Beverley, Yes; they were country women of | his. or, rather, the young girl was, for in the course of the night, very sudden- ly, the mother, whose name was regis- tered upon mine host's books, "Mrs, Robert Ventpor, New York,” passed away, leaving her daughter alone. Beverley did not learn of the death until the next morning. He was leaving his room when, in the hall, he came upon the landiord and his | wife, talking in slightly lowered voices | and with expressive shrugs of the shoul | ders, A neighboring door stood open, and | a stark form covered with a sheet with- | in, told the tale, Near the bed sat the | young girl of yesterday — motionless, | with clasped hands and a rigid face. “There's no money to do anything | with,” said the landlord, with another | shrag of the shoulders, to Beverley. “Good Heavens!” the latter stood ap- palled; ‘don’t let that stand in the way. I'll do anything that is to be done.” The landlord made a sign to the girl inside the room, and before Beverley could divine his purpose, she stood be- fore them, “This gentleman says he will pay everything for you,” announced the man; ‘‘there’s something left on the bill, t00,” he added in a lower tone, He was really no harder and no worse than many of his fellow-creatures; he simply had the bump of acquisitiveness very largely developed. Beverley looked at the girl witha sudden deep pity. She stood tall and straight in her shabby black dress, She glanced up at him with her large | mournful eyes, “Fhank you,’ she said, of her face moved, “*Poor child! She is stunned, thought ! Beverley. The pale girlish face pur- | sued Him all that day. i On the next all that was mortal of | Mrs. Ventnor was laid to rest in the little grave-yard, with its fantastic iron crosses and grotesque beaded wreaths hanging on the same, at the end of the village Streut, thousands of miles from her native , Perhaps it was a happy release. She had been a wander er for years, going about from place to place in search of health that would not come at the bidding; hope and courage, aud friends and means, growing less seigon by season, .. ®be slender girl, who now turned away from the new-made mound, upon which, by Beverley’s thoughtful some fresh flowers had been laid, been familiar with the make-shifts of genteel poverty ever since she had grown from a joyless childhood into aimless early womanhood, Poor Lucille Ventnor! hers had not been a py girlhood, a word as she She hob apoicel walked back to the house, and Bever- ly, who found himself, by the unex- v developments of fate, in some No muscle | mansaraconstituting this unknown girl's sole present friend and guardian, knew not how to broach the question of her plans and movements for the future which had now become imminent, At length he spoke to the landlady: “You must rouse her from her leth- argy. A young girl like that can’t stay on here alone in this strange inn. You must ask her whether she has no friends to whom she can write and whom she can acquaint with her condition.” But when the girl was spoken to she answered: ‘No. There is no oune— no one.” And pushing back the heavy dark bair from her face with a rapid movement, she seemed to be looking with large, frightened, horror-stricken eyes into the hard strange world upon which she was thus saddenly thrust, Beverley went out upon the balcony and smoked another meditative cigar, and there, in sight of the blue Tyrolean hills, came to a decision, Clara Valen- tine was living in Paris since her hus- band’s death, and she had the means to give this girl a home, No sooner thought of than done. Beverley had himself announced to Miss Ventnor, and in a few kind words of- fered her his sister's protection, “I am going to Paris myself to-mor- row. If you will be ready I will take you directly to my sister's home.” For a momen the young girl stood speechless, Tten, raising her eyes to the kind dark once bent on her, the long tension abruptly gave way, and she burst into an uncontrollable hyster- ical weeping fit, Beverley was horrified. But the ance, She mastered herself after a moment with a violent effort, and dried her tears, *‘1 beg your pardon,’’ she sald simp- ly; *“I could not help it, You are very Kind to me. Thank you,” The large pathetic eyes looked up at him with a childlike confidence. ‘I shall be ready to-morrow when- ever you say.” When Beverley turned away there was a lump in his throat, - » * » = ® “Well, this is about the most utterly preposterous thing I ever heard of in my life! And Hugh, of all men, to be mixed up in anything of the kind.” This was Mrs, Valentine's first ex- clamation when left alone after her brother's arrival with Lucille Ventnor. He had telegraphed to his sister in order to take first edge off her surprise, aud then, when Lucille had been con- Mrs. Valentine was by no means an | had been by no manner of means called upon to interfere. Someone else might have taken charge of the girl, she said | with irritation. “Who?” enquired Beverley. “She | is absolutely alone in the world, poor child! And she was there penniless among strangers,’ “Good Heavens, Hugh! what if she were? Do you think it was making her lot easier to compromise the girl?” “Compromise her? What do you mean?’ Beverley flushed darkly, Mrs, Valentine knew that look in her brother's face, and generally avoided it. “Of course it is compromising to her | to have brought her here alone with | you—a young girl like that—who has | no claim upon you,” she said, shrug- | ging ber shoulders, but speaking with i less excitement. i “She is about twenty years younger | than I,” said Beverley, in a tone he did | not often use, ‘and it is unworthy of you, Clara, to bring in any such word | or thought in connection with her or | me. Come,” he added, dropping again into his nonchalant bonhomie manner, ‘you have a better heart than you want i to show, Clara. Drop a little of your worldliness, and be kind to this poor i 5 She needs kindness sorely. [I'm | oing back to Germany to-morrow, and | shall leave her here with you,” : Mrs, Valentine knew better than to ! tion remained. i “To come all the way here just to bring that girl, and start off again the | next day. And then he is indignant | That | a man of the world like Hugh should | indulge in anything so crazily quixo- | tie, > i Nevertheless, she was not, In her | way, unkind to Lucille. She waseven, to her, presenting her with a mourning | “She is very pretty,” she said to her- self, the first time that the girl appear- ed in ome of these plain, neatly-fitting gowns—‘'‘very, 1 wonder if Hugh noticed 1£?” Upon the whole she was just as well Lucille had begged, from the first day, to be allowed to take charge of the little boys, and, as the latter took to her very kindly, there was no objection to ber doing so. And gradually she pleaded to have sundry other duties as- perforce to acknowledge that she was most willing, most anxious not to eat the bread of charity, and, that which was certainly not the least good thing ab her, considerably useful to her- self, The little Parisian household had, therefore, settled down upon a calm and comfortable basis when Beverley, with the suddenness which os Staraturiued his movements, reappear- He never came to Paris at this sea. son of the year, and Mrs, Valentine re- minded him of the fact with some “Oh, I thought I would try it,” he sald carelessly, And he remained on without any very definite 030 that Mrs. Valentine could see, after day and week after week. Mrs. Valentine's temper began Ww HS] nugurtain as time went by. er did not, Jorhaps, notice the fact, but others did, and Lucille Sg a it nt y broke loose, Beverley was si : edly in his Shier pretty boudoir when the latter, with an uncon frris Jongat he Hioug..t Miss Vent | “Why,” queried Beverley, looking up quickly, ‘‘has she shown any desire to got” “She? No!” cried Mrs. Valentine, impatiently, “But you don’t expect the girl to go on living in perpetuity this way, do you? I understand, of course, that you thought we might give her a home uptil other arrangements could be made Tor her, She must have someone—friend or relation—somgkith or kin to whom she can turn fd: pro- tection!” “She has no one, Clara,” said Bever- ley coldly, ‘and you know it. She is earning her living with you, as the poor girl would have to do elsewhere, You need a nursery-governess for the boys »»” “Let her be nursery-governess some- where else!” cried Mra. Valentine, ex. asperated, “You have taken a dislike to Miss Ventnor, Clara,” said her brother slow- ly. “Why? “It is yon who have taken an unaec- countable liking to her. I believe you're in love with the girl!” “Clara” Beverley’s voice contained a note of warning. He had turned pale, But Mrs, Valentine's prudence had forsaken her, **Yes, indeed, Ido think so, Blanche Conway is forgotten at last, it seems,’ The words were scarcely spoken be- fore Mrs. Valentine could have bitten her tongue out for uttering them. She was frightened and sorry, It was a very sore spot in her brother's memory that she had touched, She was going to make such blundering amends as she could when the portiere was hastily drawn aside, ana they both saw Lucille Ventoor on the threshold, “I have heard every word,” the girl began, There was not a vestige of color in her face, but her voice was steady and her gaze brave and direct, “I did not mean to; but I was going through the next room, and 1 stopped before I knew it, Forgive me. and let me go. You bave been very, very kind to me, I shall never forget it. But I must not be “the cause of misunder- standing. I see now that I should not have stayed so long.” She paused suddenly and put her hand to her head, **Never mind, child—never mind,” said Mrs, Valentine soothingly. She was rather startled at this denowe- ment to the scene she had brought about. But Beverley said very quietly: “Enough, Clara, Let Miss Ventnor do as she thinks fit,” And Lucille turned, and Jeft the “Perhaps it is just as well that she did hear,” Mrs. Valentine reflected when her brother, too, had gone, leav- ing her alone, “If I can only get her away quietly now, and before anything precise formula than this or “anything happening.” Had she been called up- would be extremely trying to have Hugh at this late day marrying an ob- scure and penniless girl twenty years his junior, Meanwhile, Beverley had gone to the book had sat down in the window. A very short time passed before Lu- cille came hastily through. a motion as though to escape. ler eyes were red with weeping, Beverley quickly laid a firm detain- ing band upon her arm, “I don’t want you to go, Miss Vent- nor. I want you to stay-—as my wife,” The words were spoken. For a min- ute they both looked in silence into each other's eyes, “Oh, no, no!” cried Lucille then, “That ean’t be. Let me gol!” But Beverley, in that one moment had learned her secret too, He smiled and gently took her hand. “My child, I have loved you from with those pathetic eyes the day your mother died. My poor lost lamb, left alone in this bleak world! Do I seem too old for you, Lucille! Delieve me, dear, I will cherish you as the apple of my eye.’ What other fond nonsense he whis- pered over the dark head pillowed on his breast it behooves us not to know. Presently be said: “There is one thing more, Lucille, You have doubtless beard her say, too, that I never meant to marry. Perhaps the two things are connected in your mind. I did love that woman long years ago, dear, But she was un- worthy. It was a d wound. I thought It would never heal-—but it is obliterated now — gone — fotgotten— since the day when I found my poor Is all glear to you now, Lueille, mine?” In words Beverley had no reply, but he seemed to wish for none; her eyes spo te, Suddenly, blushing rosy red, she dis- engaged herself from the strong en- circling arm, “Oh, what will Mrs, Valentine say?" she murmured. “She will bs so—s0 “Disappointed?” supplemented Be- verley. “Poor Clara! I'm afraid so;’’ and he laughed. “But she is excel lent at bottom. She will get over it, § £ g ; Her Jealousy; or, That Basket of Fish, If Rossiter had any fault at all, it was that she was suspiciously jealous of her husband, who before his marriage had considerable reputation as a flirt, He was even now unne- cessanly attentive, his wife thought, when preity women were around, and particularly to a Mrs, Ferguson, a young and beautiful woman who lived in the neighborhood, Every time Neil went away for any length of time the disagreeable thought would crowd into her thoughts that he had gone to meet that fascinating young flirt, and she could not conceal her jealousy, One morning her husband left the house after telling her that he was going to bring a friend home to dimnnér that night and to prepare a good meal. He bad not gone as far as the gate before the old jealous thought re- vived in Mary's mind. She, however, busied herself about her work in the hope of forgetting her feslous fears and finally went down to the fish mar- ket to see about the fish Nell sald he would order on his way, The fish man sald he was just filling the order, and Mrs. Rossiter coming nesrir to the basket in which he was placing the fish read with startled eyes on the label: “Ordered by N. Rossiter to be sent to Mrs, Ferguson, 19 Gleubervill Ter- race.” Overcome with rage, Mrs. Ilossiter walked hastily out of the shop and did own room again, where she cried he:- seif to sleep on the pillow. When Nell Rossiter came howe with nis friend in the evening he was told that bis wifes was ill, but though he rapped on the door to inquire she did not let him in, pretending to be asleep. As soou as Mr. Hosslter could get rid again to see if Mamie was awake, This time the door yielled when he tried it, and on entering the room he found bis wife up and dressed, Her face was crimson with excite- ment, her eyes swollen with weeping, and she was engaged in transferring to some trunks the contents of her drawers, “Do pot touch me! Do not attempt to come near me!” she exclaimed, ** | have found you out! I have discovered | how false and unfaithfal you are, and | this is the last night I shall spend under your roof!” “You foolish little woman, you are | faverish!”’ exclaimed the astonished | Nell, “What made you overtire your- | self? Of course you have been asleep {and dreaming. Come and sit on my knee and tell 100" ——— But with acry «f ageny she beat {down the arms that would have en- | folded her, and, seeing that she was suffering from great mental distress, he strove by quiet expostulations to | calm her. “Am Inot to be heard In my own | defence? 1s this your idea of woman's { justice? Still, 1 demand to know the nature of the crime I am said to { have committed," | “Said to have committed!” Mrs, Rossiter repeated, with heaviag b wom. | **Are your ideas of right and duly so { lax that you do not look upon tas a | sin to keep up a secret intimacy with { that vilest of women--that Mrs. Fer- | guson?"’ | Neil Rossiter's face became | grave, | “Hush! I cannot let you say a word | against her, Who has been filling your { mind with such atrocious trash?’’ i **No one; what I have learned I have discovered myself,’ “indesd! Will you tell me how? Yes, Mamie, 1 iosist upon it. You seem to be making preparations for leaving me, but out of this room you shall not stir Lill you tell :0e the reason why you are acting so madly.” She pressed her (ugers Lo ber beating temples, “Yes, I am mad. [ have been mad ever since I went to Dorey’s this morn- ing. It was there—it was there I learned your treachery.” And then, by dint of a little ques- tioning, Neil R »ssiter elicited the rest. As soon as be heard bis wife's story ha tan downstairs, soatohed vp his bat and quitted the house, Was it because he saw himself de- tected and had no excuse to offer for his conduct? Slowly and sadly, her tears dropping on the garments made not so very long since for ber bridal, Mrs, Rossiter re- sumed her task of packing, stopping ever and anon to down some pretty trifle Neil had given her, and cry those bitter, hopeless tears that had never visited ber blue eyes befora, And all this unhappiness arose from the mischievous coquetiishness of a thoughtless, heartless woman, who ex- ercised her witcheries on every one who came near her, Again poor Mamie's head sank on her hands, and she was sitting on the floor oblivious to everything but her grisf, when her husband returned to her. He held out the label she had seen at very hear theexplanation,” Mamie shook ber bead and turned g $ : i ; £8 i i i 25 Es £ fl i i g } | ef. ever made to that basket of fish, and Notl Rossiter’s wife 1s quite cured of unfounded jealousy? — FASHION NOTES, ~ Black-and-white combinations are exceedingly stylish and very elegant, ~Batin-stri moire, draped with ribbon stri lace net, is a favorite combination for evening toilets, ~Beige, tan, bronze, golden-brown and sll the tawny yellow shades are very fashionable the present season. ~Fineé broadcloth and ladies’ cloth are sald to be used in Paris for brides- malds’ dresses, and sometimes even for bridal dresses, —Diamond hoop ear-rings have re- turned to favor. Bangle bracelets are sold of corresponding designs. The prettiest devices show a diamond dew- drop in the centre of the hoop. —~Fashiops change for the bables as well as for their mammas; every year old, makes its appearance, At present we are rather going back. Infants’ Jit. tle frocks are much in the style of those worn a hundred years ago. ery headed with narrow tucks and two flounces of deep lace. The bodice is formed of rows of tucks and bands of embroidery alternately, and is finished with a plaiting of lace round the neck. ~Lloth wraps to mateh the costume | will be trimmed either with bands of Hercules braid. Black silk passemen- terie appears on enmson and terra cotta cloth, and wraps of these ma- terials can be worn with black or any colored costume not in too decided contrast, --A very lovely but elaborates frock of lace embroidered with insertion; at the foot of this are five flounces of lace, | The front is edged on both sides with a row of lace, The bodice is of nain- sook, with plaited V shaped trimming of the same edged with lace in front The short sleeves are finished with a ribbon on the shoulders and in the front of the frock. ribbon finished with a rosette, with fitted back, loose fronts and bell sleeves, remain in favor, and are made up in all the fashionable “faced” cloth-—terra cotta, sage green, style, trimmed with wide facings of moire antique down the front and on the sleeves, This facing Is sometimes of the same color as the cloth, but still mora frequently of black. Cordelieres of rich and heavy, and sometimes have jet mixed In the tassels, ~The most luxurious underwear is of white silk, Refined women do not use the various tials and colors shown | sive stores do not keep them in stock unless as display goods, The only place in which an undervest of tinted silk is worn is with evening dresses, when a silk undervest cut pointed back and front 18 worn to match the evening dress in color, Sik underwear is nearly as warm as wool, and not irritating to the flesh as wool often 1s; it is much warmer than merino or cotton under. wear. Union suits are shown in heavy and medium weights, and there are soft, luxurious jersey-fitting vests of ivory- white silk which do not increase the size of the stoutest figure, Tue Brat woolens 1mported by mer- chants for dresses for early spring are Hennetta cloths in silk and wool, all { wool chuddahs, camel's hairs and | Scotch cheviots of silken quality and i feather weight. These are warm | enough for the coolest spring days, though much lighter in weight than the winter goods now worn. They are {displayed in a great variety of mixed { colors of the neutral tints called **beige effects,” and also in a variety of plain | colors and fancy plaid and cross bar patterns, There are many shades of copper color in brown and in red tones, Sevres-blue colors range from a pale- blue, less gray than cadet-blue, to a gark shade as deep in color as navy blue, —It is obgerved on the latest tallor- ery finished with a deep hem, ery opening up the sides and at the back to show the handsome underdress beneath, Kilted skirts still appear on imported gowns, with Louis XIV HORSE NOTES. ~The Louisville Driving Park As. sociation will hold a spring meeting on May 8 to 1L ~Captain W. 8B. Tough has been elected Secretary of the Kansas City Fair Association, ~The Mock brothers, near Danville, Ky., have a number of cholcely bred Messenger Chief oclts, z —~ Andy McCarty was suspended at New Orleans on the 27th for abusing the clerk of the scales, = Nearly 900 trotters have made rec ords of beiter thar 2.25. Beventy-six have just equaled that time. —John Croker, the Brighton Beach sraiper, who has passed through a severe siege of sickness is once more around. ~Dr, John Deye, Newburg, N. Y., Feoabily sold his chestnut gelding asbrouck to a Chicago, Ill, party for $5000, ’ ~Harry Harwood, the well-known | steeplechase jockey, died on February | 24th at his home, in Baltimore, aged | 26 years, ~Dasy Hamilton, record, 2 28}, died at New York, of spinal mening.- tis, recently, She was owned by BR. C, i Ratlkbone, | =~The Cilifornia State Board of | Agriculture has decided to do away with pool-selling on heals of races trotied on its grounds, ~Match races between the pacers Argyle, 2.14}, and Gossip, Jr, 2.14, and the trotters Favonia, 2.19, and | Rosallnd Wilkes, 2.18}, are likely to be arranged, -The contemplated race meeting at St. Paul, Minn, has been abandoned, The committee appointed for the pur- pose was unable to raise the sum nec- essary, $26,000, — Enfield, b. 8. record 2.20, foaled 1868, by Hambletonian, dam Julia Malone by BSeelev’s American Star, died at Marrowdale, Tenn., last month, He was the sire of Robin, 2.244, and Stonecutier, 2.28%. ~~At 8 mesting of the Directors of ithe Hernellsville, N. Y.. exposition recently aguaranieed purse of $3000 was | authorized for horses that never trotted better than 2.33. The exposition will | be held August 27 to September 1. ~At a meeting of the new Phila- | delphia Driving Park Association at No. 1157 South Broad street on Feb, 18th it was reported that 245 of the 300 | shares had been subscribed for and that $50 had been received for each share sold, ~The Northwestern Association of Trotting and Pacing Horse Breeders offers a stake jurse of $2000 for the 2.27 class, horses to elidble April 1. to be trotted during the August | meeting at Washington Park, Chicago, ~—Hon, J. C, Sibley has purchased from Governor Stanford for $3,000 the bay filly Palo Alto Belle, by Elec- tioneer, dam Beautiful Bells, 2 29} { (dam of Hinda Rose, 2.19}; St. Bel, | 2.244. and Bell Boy, 22/1) by The Moor. Palo Alto Belle was foaled April, 1836, ~The bay mare Souvenir, foaled 1882, by Stotiander, dam Patty by Jim Rogers, out of Patty Taylor, by im- ported Sovereign, property of James Juke, Marion, Ala., while baing driven { in double harness a short time since | fell through a bridge and was killed in- | stantly, ~-Messrs, Chinn & Morgan, of the Leonatus Stud, Harrodsburg, Ky. have been rather unfortunate, having lost several of their best brood-mares, Among those lost were Idalia (1871), by Red Dick; Wave Ban (1883), by Wave Ban (1883), by King Ban; Jenny Rowett, (1872), by Uncle Vie; Semi- tone (1879), by Buckden, and Lorentia (1868) by imp. Australian. ~The Detroit Driving Club will hold { its summer meetiog on July 24, 25, 26, and 27, at which time large purses will be given on the installment plan. Also a fall meeting on September 4, 5, 6, 7 and 8. A third meeting will ve held with a visw to making it a great breeders’s event. There wil be stake races, purses and herd prizes, Lansdale, the winner of the great Maribyrnong Plate, the 2-vear- old event of Australia, st the Mel bourne meeting, is thought to be one of the best colts that has ever stripped in the colonies, One of the most curious things in connection with Lonsdale is that he is the only foal got by his sire, First King, two years ago, the horse baving covered only threes or four | «There promises to be rather an in- flux of imported stallions this season through Mr. Willlam Easton, the head of the Kentucky Tattersall’s. Mr. Easton has a commission from Mr.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers