Sirius. 1 watched the darkling dome of night Grow flecked with God's eternal eyes, With pulsing heart and ravished sight I saw great Eirius arise, Like to a king of royal state, Swept he in splendor to his throne; The stars paid tribute, small and great, When Birius, the Dog Star, shone, The moon, an orb of argent fire, Crept out and turned Ler face amazed To where, as tho’ he would out-vie her, Boid Sirius in brilliance blazed. A FAMILY STORY “*Steerage?’’ the stewardess inquires, with only the faintest shadow of inter- rogation in her tone, The little old woman at the door of the saloon shows her ticket. There is no doubt about her right to enter the saloon and also to occupy the best stateroom upon the great ocean steamer that will leave Liverpool in an hour or two. Dut as she enters she hesitates, catching certain scornful glances from ladies in the latest style of traveling costumes, whiskered dandies in attend- ance, and white-capped ‘‘bDonnes.”’ watching extravagantly dressed chil- dren. But while she hesitates Ethel Mor- young girl in new deep is with a party of together, comes dant, a wourning, who is merry forward, and asks: Tain 1 shat people chatting I “Aury,” Ethel smiled; for the Mary wus the girl of 19 or 20, in the very latest style of New York extravagance, leaning upon the arm of a gentleman a few years older, whose face Ethel could pot see distinctly under a wide Panama hat. There was the usual delay, while the custom-house officer came aboard, and the passengers looked over the railing at the crowd upon the wharf. A mid- dle-aged gentleman, with a handsomely attired lady on his arm, came to the side of the vessel asked: “Is Mrs, Foster aboard?” And the little old woman, dropping Ethel’s arm, cried; “it’s John and Mary!” And so it aboard, followed by John ana Mary. and looking grandmother's eyes and Ethel kept old friend them open little sw her She and the search made for her, whirled away In a superb, rouche, excepting John, Jr., tered off on foot, and she said ba who saun- “1 shall never see her again!’ She heard some one say; *That our milllo with that funny old woman,’ and then she remembered that all =he [ him was that husband,’ . r was one ol NAaIrs knew of he w A Doubtless name and ad dress were both In Mrs. Foster's mind *“ Are you looking for any one?”’ “Naw,” the little woman says: “but | 1’m not knowing where to go.”’ **Then, | encouraged by the sweet face bending | over her, continued: “My son-in- | jaw is sending for me to New York, | Mi and he took my stateroomn before | away from there. | I’m tired and dazed like, for I've been | she 58 the sleamer came + and It’s And here on the ¢ ince yestere'en to move ew Lo me about,” e tears started, for she felt unuttera- | ly forlori ith Miss Mordaunt had come aboard w a weary feeling that life for her had fo a standstill; gs of energy to meet many t once come but youth has | trials, | n interest awoke at in little old the stewardess, she ascertained he locality of the stateroom, and fol making her able by a few womanly devices inning uncalled-for confidence, *-It's my Mary’s husband,” the littl old woman told Miss Mordaunt; “‘and | Mary's the last six children, She | left the old place in Devonshire more’n | thirty vears ago, and I've staid with the others till they all lie in the church- | yard, and Mary will have me come to | New York. It’s a grand man, her man is;there, I hear, with a big house and no | end of money, They sent me £100 to buy clothes, an’ all it couldn grand if I tried, so just money by, and Mary can buy t! me, She'll not be the slip of a girl nov that me, for she daughters of her own. trouble, miss, yourself, and she gently touched Miss Mordaunt’s dress, “Poth my my lied of malarious fever in Rome six and the 3 th wae heart for sls Wola. owed its occupant there, y al § Vi tafe r 3 . elt Las sons fatber and mother weeks ago,’’ was the sal reply, girl did not shrink as a rough but Kind- ly hand caressed her gently, and a der voice cailed her *‘poor dear,” ther homely, pitying names, It would have astonished the friends | cf Ethel Mordaunt to have seen her presently sobbing like a child in the | caressing arms of ‘such a very com- | mon-looking person’ as Mrs, Foster, | her new friend. Self-contained, proud | and yet keenly sensitive, the girl had | cased herself in an armor of reserve, | for with orphanhood she had met with | other trials. Letters found amongst her father's papers proved that he had left home to | try to save expenses, and weather | ¥ i tens i and i through financial tangles of magni. | tude, He was in broken health, and had put his affairs into a lawyer's | hands until he could gather up some physical strength. And the end had come suddenly, while to Ethel’s heavy | sorrow was added a double loss, as her mother only survived her father two days, The friends with whom they had traveled knew that Ethel would return home to poverty as well as sor- row, and without intentional unkind- ness thelr pity had a touch of patron age that stung Ethel to the quick. So she had wrapped herself in a cold reti- cence aud suffered in silence, jut in helping another she found help. Mrs, Foster was terribly seasick il the way across, and Ethel devoled herself to the old woman's care, and kept the poor little soul alive by the cheery voice, her coaxing and her pet- ting. It was Ethel who dressed her and led her on deck when she could bear the motion; Ethel who listened to the many stories of ‘‘Mary and Mary's good man,’’ descripiions of the presents sent often to the mother in England, and the many letters urging ““mother’’ to share in the comfort of the New York hoe, But Ethel imagined that Mary's husband was probably a well-to-do mechanic and the mazuificence of his home only so by comparison with the little farm in Devonshire, where he had been hired man to Mary’s father before America, But when the vessel drew up to the dock in New York, and Mrs Ioster Jooking eagerly from the deck spied » when she vainly searched for her friend she left the steamer, but both M » a - “It is M said, angrily, as he pushed ask 1 } i simply absurd!” breakfast plate, and glared at his “a girl in a store!’ Miss Mamie Ward “‘Povertly is not a erime! : <1 iy YT ®.. “And she is a aly, Said JO one of he died 1 been highly educated, you would only see her!” “Thank wis the #3 ¢ login es! * you, do not desire that sneering reg ' iy. a expected that you would d never ISgTAcE y the family by marrying a shop and Mr. Ward marched off the memory of the days when the he; of family followed a plo girl; 1 f oblivous to { wl the A n, hb desired he had ; 3 pos tion due to what himself, the education, refinement and social ¢ ing, as well as wealth, and it him that his wife was always ple woman he | had a native 1 above vulgarity. was not mercenary, d money in partners as for gentle Horror! He had thonght som society 14} *, Less! aval 1 like to find again Mis moser-i his OCEeAl Mordaunt sli knew that born it would ratner i *s 3 1 L y > se “ar comed Ethel as a daaghter-in-i 3 » for “family” he venue in New York, whose no older than his own, jut he had never spoken of his anger was terrible when bad calmly announced self engaged to be married Smith, who stood in a store, He marched to his rage, while John sought his refuge in family troubles, ‘‘the mother,’’ as he fondly called Mrs. Ward. Grandma was called in and while Miss Mamie, nibbling toast, won- dered what John “‘could be think Mrs, Foster and Mrs, Ward were consoling John, “Suppose, mother,”’ Mrs, Ward said, gently, ‘you go to see her. I should not like to act in direct opposition to my husband, but you-—might-—see- her—and --and”’ So a very stylish barouche contain. ing a little old lady in rich black silk, with a bonnet of Parisian manufac- ture, of black lace and purple flowers, drove rapidly from the Filth avenue mansion to the ribbon store where Miss Smith worked. ‘‘‘zone home--discharged!’”’ was the answer to inquiry; but neither speaker guessed that Mr. Ward, the neh i office in majestic council, ing of earning an honest 1.ving my aunt, Mrs. Grey Mordaunt, who was Mr. Grey Mordaunt’s cousin, begged me so pitifully not to disgrace the family name by earning my own living that I consented to be called Miss Smith. That is all, Dut what did you want to see Miss Smith for?”’ “Oh, it is of no consequence, are going home to dine with me?” “Now? Well, yes, I will” And she smiled a little mysteriously. It were too long a story to tell of Ethel’s introduction to “Mary,” and of John’s delight; the mutual surprises and explanations, But it was not until after a wedding that Mrs. John Ward, Jr,, said to her father-in-lavs: “There were some investinents of my You all his liabilities were met, wroté to me on the day 1 from the ribbon store that these bonds had become valuable, ivestigautl h sold out my shares, and deposited £100,000 in bank informs me tha ie has i girl's discharge.” 574 — street, Brooklyn.’ Over the ferry, a long drive to a mod- ing to see Miss Smith. She came down to the room, a pale, slender girl, in half mourning. was a cry of--"My Miss Mordaunt!” “Mra. Foster!” and then the two were i wd Murs, tears in her eyes: hi & blessing Ethel dropped Bile Was | n store, though, to be for a few mouths. And, my dear, 1 assure you, I never her marriage with a man of no nl whatever, though 1 y they ridic- uously happy.’ ¥ HY OD « ERAT Aly OL wonderful | mae hie WOnaeriu: machin ruse or lind MUYRIO i are being added day by ds LO give a ct iY. ( more permanent interest is the intention to $ ng y come this summer, a sort of exposition opera utterances, songs, solos and senti- ments from all the Gladstones, tubinsteins and Persian Shahs who come this way, been put in with this end in view, - Old Taunton's Birthday Gift. Old Taunton, her greet. ings to the New England Taunton, but they were not received in time for the i. sent “The missive is elaborate niversary celebration, one of the most are hand-painted upon thin parchment in old-style illuminated script, The surrounded by illuminated scroll-work, and at the top is a water color sketch of Taunton Castle, and be- low it of old St. Mary's Church, On one side of the castle is the coat of arms of the town, and on the other side is a beer barrel, perhaps a hint crowning industry of Taunton. at the The of affection and delight. Mrs, Foster, remembering her errand, said: “But I came to see Miss Smith!” tifxd, I told you on the steamer that I was very poor, but I have grand rela- tions, When I declared my intention It will be framed in a good stout frame oak taken from St. Mary's Church at the time of its last renovation, and which will arrive in the city in a few days,’ A A NOON. Whoever would live his life over would do no better than he is now do- ing, If you want to begin over again begin now, and don’t think to order a jes cradle and begin being baby over ag FLOOD. The Shores of the Chesapeake Strewn With Valuable Drift. “It’s an {ll wind that good,” is an axiom that could not have a better illustration than in the case of the recent great storm, While the in habitants of the mountainous of Pennsylvania and Maryland well nigh ruined by the effects of will result in blows nobody sections were the great storm, it cuniary benefit to a large number of the of this and Kent This is due to the immense quantities of sawed lumber and drift stuff which was forced down the Susquehan- na River into Chesapeake Bay from the residents counties, logs, surrounding » Pennsyl- lumber Williamsport and Conowingo, extensive regions Persons owning the shores bh busily engaged in securing the lumber, and if a proper estimate of he That t will £ BivViage on ber saved be of who secured imagined, receiving as they do 2 the event ti -—— INCIDENTS OF SEBASTOPOIL t Wolaeley's HB Trenches inthe ( Oun FMIINnIsSCences Vis of the rimea. tually many were the cea under I will mention one remarkable instance, I was sitting some yards the first parallel, who was giving me i night. Two facing which 1 in of our structions for the sergeants stood {io . Yiats Tw us, istenin orders wrote In my While so occupied, in what to we be a very of us as a shell rushed the was horribly mangled, we supposed it to be, protruding from a ghastly wound, The next morning 1 inquired in camp how the man was and learned he had not been touched by the shell, but that terrible wound was made by the jawbone of the other sergeant, which was driven into his face, Indeed a little reflection onght to have told us that no man could be seriously wounded in the head by the blow of 2 shell and still live, What did most to kill our men was want of fuel to cook with, Before any fire could be made men had to march a mile or two to dig up the roots of the brushwood that bad stood on the heights at Inkerman, The brushwood had quickly disappeared, but their roots constituted our coal mine during our first winter, It was a sad sight to see the poor, wet and tired soldier on his Knees trying to kindle enough fire with these damp roots to boil his kettle, Our clothing was as Insuflicient as our food and not suited to the rigorous climate of the Crimea, In the winter the cold was excessive, and our trenches were often for days mere ditches of mud and water, All rank suffered much accord- hay half-fed, ingly from the want of long boots, after day 1 have the poorly-clad private soldier struggle with feeble limbs the trenches, trying above all things, for his own credit asa and for the credit of ment, to keep out of the hospital and what he termed “at his duty.’ the tents and 86611 to soldier his regi- 1 have seen return from 1 lie trenches : 3 in thei down from actual want of proper susten ang ————— Sleeping Cars In India. Every Han with him in India a $ give youn nothing eise but a carries his own i nd these Indian ca lomwmnge or which to spread a cotton comforter, a shawl or a rug. You carry voul half trav. first and secon brings $id I most of his baggage with him and there is often a the contents of an in one of these comi undresses, bu | old aa % IGIgL 38 We rir § at it FONE VO SAY 18: and y death.” apa doesn’t like naughty boys, and 1 don’t Kn Do like naughty said Willie, with distinciness, man doesn’t, YW boys?" Wo Remedy for Sunstrokess be done Whatever ease, must be done quickly. in this di Clinical, is to enforces this doctrine, There should The S(O remedy is so simple, imminent, that the good Samaritan passing by should save his brother. The good Samaritan must, however, have a cool head to be userul, Not every man who falls unconscious on a hot day has sunstroke, There is fortunately one criterion so easy of ap- plication that any one can use it. Go at once to the fallen man, open his shirt bosom and lay the hand upon his chest: if the skin be cool, you may rest as- sured that whatever 1s the trouble, it is not sunstroke. If, on the contrary, the skin be burning hot, the case is certain- ly sunstroke, and no time should be lost, The patient should be carried to the nearest pump or hydrant, stripped to his waist, and bucketfut after bucket- ful of cold water dashed over him until consciousness begins to return, or the intense heat of the surface decidedly abates, for. ns IARI ANH Nor Fixep—Husband of popular actress—*' My wife has decided to retire from the stage.” Friend—*"Indeed! At once?" “No, not exactly at once, We have not vet decided upon the exact year, but she will begin her farewell tour pext season FOOL FOR THOUGHT There are oe 4 alone can ome th that si Answer, fier ings If you multiply word what you have done, 8. YOILI Wil oroW dearest When the i {if Dy gets : heart a good workex xd sleeper, Sometimes iS 80 Copious thal one needs : but of 8 the mill needs $10 nul + 2} LAE ALDOUS Lt » streain that turn 3 CCoONOMIZed, 4 suppy } Fo ‘here is nothing ng or the his reason ther y agreeable as that of the man o vy. who hears without any betray, and speaks without ion to deceive, What as Lhe truth. so delightful of is nO speaking the wy makes us like not 80 much Dew acquaint weariness of om for change at not being sufficiently who Know us too well, and tx hope of being more so by those whe «de as dis; 8 Tavis 3 admireq ) Never-ending hurry is but a rheton decay and death, Look at him whos diligence is sustained by skill and tact interchanging with rest, and you wil see the worker who has need haste, yet he will accomplish more thar another whose hurry is waste, Among the innumerable analogies that may be traced between the phe nomena of the natural and of the moral world, there are few more perfect, 0 more instructive, than that which may be shown to exist between the weeds of the field and garden, and the bad hab- its, the weeds of the heart. Kind words produce their own image on men’s souls, and a beautiful hmage it is, They smooth, and quiet, aud comfort the hearer. They shame him out of his sour, and morose, and unkind feelings. We have not jel begun to use kind words in such abundance as they ought to be used. Nothing opens so wide a door to vice, to crime, to evil habits of every description, as the absence of occupa- tion. The downward course of many a promising youth, the ruin of many a hopeful life, may be distinctly traced to the void caused by having nothing defi nite and positive to do, The faculties must be active, the energies must be at work; and, if not employed for good, thev will be for evil no ol
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