cata Two Women. od 1 know two women : and one is chaste And cold as the snows ona Winter wastes Stainless ever, in act and thought {Asa man born dumb in speech errs not.) But she has malice Toward her Kind A eruel tongue and a jealous mind, Void of pity, and full of greed. She iudges the world by her DAIrow cree. A brewer of quarrels, a breeder of hate, Yet she holds the Key to “Society's” gate. The other woman, with & heart of flame, Went mad for a love that marred her name, And ont of the grave of her murdered faith Mhe rose like a soul that has passed thro' death. Her aim is noble, her pity so broad, It covers the world ike the mercy of God. A healer of discord, a soother of Woes, Peace follows her footsteps wherever she goes, The wortider life of the two, RO doubt ; And yet “Society” logks her oat, : S — Ella Wheeler Wilcox, —— A —————— BELLE OF THE OCEAN, into night-like gloom toward the south, where the great pine ridge loomed up, tossing out its ghostly moaning and sighing with an agony that seemed almost human. a few scattering hillocks; and nestling in their midst, and old-style farm-house, flection of the out in long, monotonous stretches, the low salt marshes, and the bleak white beach and the sea. That wasthe Hea 1- lands! Nothing handsome or tive about the place forests mountains: but the sea was there, and that more than comp nsated for all the other deficiencies. Nature 1s wondrous- ly just in her apportionments what she denies on one hand she on the other. On the extreme point of the Head- lands was a ragged boulder, standing, as it were at anchor, for the salt waves beat in a circle round its base; and on its summit, swinging ont with a daring recklessness that would bave been ap- palling to timid, no jakes up erman. Rather an ordinary specimen, judging trom a first glance, but closer brought ont finer points, i rising in leonine gran- square, burly shoulders; a figure, with muscles like iron, unely, gO wl-natured faee, lit by swept the agle observation ob head We and a h a pair of Die i the restless glance of an « vas Harry Melvilie. the twilight deepen d, and the wrapped wstasy; the fire that had d into a dreamy time with his he swung from his lofty perch, it into a song—a urde, nau- hing: bat the old-time air was uid the voice that sung it won- ar and resonant, ringing out umpet peal above the dash of . yet weet and tender as the note of a wood thrush. Over and over again he trilled the quaint ditty, until every echo caught up the strain, and gray eyes that sen witl that lower, he seemed ed of ed lin his eves melts ss, and keeping WAVYeS seemed thrilling with melody. Just then the door of the old farm house swung open, letting out a broad flood of lamplight, and a slendeér girl's figure: and an instant later that self- same figure, quant and prim in its gray, stood just behind the He sang on, utterly uncon- Her lily fair face twinkled with a little mischievous laugh, and climbing up the boulder with rare put her rosy mouth to his ear. “Harry ig He was near losing his balance, and his song came to a sharp and sud end. leaving the closing night insilence. The into a merry laugh. Recover 1 [iS Benses and his foothol i, he laughed too, and catching her in bh Arms, down. She struggled from the instant his fect touched the sand, and then they stood face to face. Harry spoke first. “Well, Syria?" he asked. “Nothing—only supper waiting, and Aunt Sarah is growing impatient,” she replied. ot yh, that's gown f singer BOIOUA err lits BEI, she iden 1 is cl mbed his embrace is all I” gloomy and abstracted. “1 do want any supper’ I've made up my mind, Syria.” face and voice were quiet. “Well, Harry?” “I'm going!” “When?” “At daybreak.” Her very lips paled, and her slender finger shook and trembled, but her eyes remained true and steady. “Well,” she answered slowly, “Goa bless you, Harry!” The boy stood silent, his eyes fixed on the far coast line, where the red sunset fires were slowly burning out, his thoughts busy with the past. One night, especially, stood out clear and vivid—a wild, stormy night, when the sky was like ink, and the mad sea thun- dered until the old farm-house shook to its very centre. They were down on the strand, his father and a half dozen fishermen ~himself, a sturdy lad, fol- lowing like a young spanicl. Hard work lay before the men. A stately vessel lay out on the bar, and the strong gale was driving her to pieces, Boat after boat started out as her booming guns begged for assistance; but each one was swamped or driven back. It was mere desperation, and an old sailor said, no boat could stand such s gale—they oould do nothing. His father chuckled to himself, and bringing ont a sturdy eraft of his own placed himself at its helm. and went out into the darkness, never to return again, the men averred; but Harry did not belleve it. He had never Known his futher to fail, and he set down amid the crash and roar to watch and wait. And not vainly; for by-and-by the stur- dy boat beat its way back, bringing only one trophy, a little sea waif that the old man had picked u tiny girl child, with tlaxcn hair snd blue eyes. The rongh men bore her up to the old farm-house, Harry trotting on be- hind; and before day dawn the boom- ing guns were silent, for the stately vessel, after a brave fight, had gone down beneath the hu waves, Captain Melville his wife could do nothing more or less than to adopt the little Storm gift and bring her up ¢ Accordingly 3 fishermen. Syria was her name —every art ele of clothing she wore at the tine of the wreck was marked with it; and a small jewelled locket, that hung from her neck, bore the same signature. Too fine and fanciful, her foster parents said, and would have laid it away with her apparel, but the child's name seem- ed to cling to her, to be part and parcel of her identity. So they called her Sy- ria, after all; and as she merged into maidenhood the lads called her the “belle of the ocean.” She and Harry had been sister and brother for ten years, eating their fru- and sharing the same bed in childhood, and in maturer years they were vided. Watching the purple and gold- en sunsets; drifting out up the sunrise together. But all these pleasant days were at an end now-—Harry was away. The thing had been talked of for months by the farm-house fireside Captain Melville favored it. was the right place for Harry, he said, and s berth in the Black Dragon would Harry's mother opposed the plan the lad conld make Yet she set | to work making warm tre and knitting warm socks. Syria helped her in The lad himself said noth- ing; found it very hard to make up all. His and ALIS world very s old Head RINALes wa Y et last, and i at home. wersolf ISOS silence. nion brill- it f anything y a decision s, the Black Dra : at day break, and I'm going in dvria;” he eves solemn and tender, and » tremulous tood silent a moment; then question w ith a foreed ar are you going, Harry?” ‘When do you expect to come bound round g sponded; it will be Dragon's Mels ud ugly, recognized him at that mo- face wi transfigured he little outstret sunt over her with a look in : 5 1 ile, and ' searcely His hed hands eves SUC ding and yielding like a graceful let her young head, with all its ith of sunny gold, droop down and st upon his shoulder. hus, {« moment, t in silence, thundering at their feet, the SOBRTION overhead: an i although word was spoken, each one felt that i uld have but one defitite purpose. Syria broke the silence ir one Hey stows wl | Ones hope, aid, hie : Harry smiled at face glowed ah to transfer the . 2 x . thing iron 3 neck 0 ns; head and suf nity Litth for he knew that it was] sole treas- ure, prize d above all things else, yetshe gave it to hin “Now.” she the little her name proudly, as je upon which was engraved, sparkled on his continued, ' % welled locket, anyhow. [I'm to have this back again, you know. n “Yon shall, Syria, God willing!” answered, solemnly, “Very well. Come, now, supper will be spoiled, and Aunt Sarah ready to scold,” , He continued to hold her hand, and, gide by side, they walked to the house, The captain and his wife were in the doorway, ready to chide them for their he them. “So you have made up your mind at last, Harry?” the old man said. “Yes, father.” “When do you sail?” “At daybreak.” The mother heard no more. happy fireside and cheerful supper-ta- warm trousers and heavy socks, now twist of home-made candy, her eyes all the while blinded with falling tears, At moonrise everything was ready, and with his knapsack strapped across his shoulders, Harry stood in the door- WAY. “Good-by, father!” his voice husky. “(iood-by, Harry. Make a man o yourself before you cast anchor again.” “Ay, ay, father.” Then he broke down, and pulling cap over his eyes, strode away with another word. At the first redfjening of the dawn, the Black Dragon sailed; and straining her blue eyes in the uncertain light, to catch a glimpse of the spreading sails, Syria eaught a faint echo, Harry's voice, borne back on the morning breeze as he stood on deck, singing his old sea song. Autumn faded into winter; snows fell, whitening all the solemn beach, crowning the little hillocks round the old farm house, Spring followed with balmy winds and genial skies, and sum- mer and winter One an- other the seasons followed each other. The gray moss on She old farm-house roof w larger thicker; his out of household cares to slip through her fingers into Syria's hands, Beautioul Syria! The promise of her girlhood was being developed into glo- rious maturity. But she might have been a pearl, ns they called her, in her icy ind, opin divding for all the human feeling she seemed to possess. One by one the Headland boys eame to the farm-house, to pay their homage to its lovely young mistress; and one by one they dropped off. Syria was not to be won. So cold, quiet and nnapproachs- ble was her manner that “as cold as the belle of the ocean” came to be a pro- verb among them. In the meantime the days rolled on, bringing the third sutumun; and with it | happy tidings. The Black Dragon was | homeward bound. Aust Savah seemed to regain her lost vonuth us | and went back to her old Jrost and old labors All through the golden days they worked; cleansing and adorning | the whioned rooms, ani heaping the cupboard shelves with rows of gol- | den pumpkin pies, and platters full of crisp © The turkeys were | all futted and ready to roast. Harry good living, and he should wother said, when he came, he not come? Every day wwon was looked for, and hit EY disappoint i i he listened, 1.1.¢ Lithia £41 cakes, was fond of have 1t, his But why the Black Dr bron t last, one golden afternoon, when sunlight streamed in yellow bars over the sanded floor, and Syria had looped back the tains, with clusters of scar- let ber sprays of wintergreen, and ranged the pippins in long rows on the mantel, in the very midst of their expectations, the tidings came, brought from the city by a fisherman the Black Dragon, homeward bound, took fire just under the line, and every se on board perished. Harry would never Corn Ci ries aud et] ii home! A silence more solemn than death on the old farm-house. Annt Sarah sunk benesth the blow into feeble i Idhood: and the old grew morose and sullen. bore the blow bravely. BEA OTe captain taking all i cares upon aor ule nder and working from dawn till Then, when the hash of night over the great sea, she took her creation. Gliding down to the would clamber to the top of git for an hour with her poor s and solemn eyes, i 3 1 1 Ouse 4 , and oulde LO BOR, i eves full of piteous expectation : iaft” the Headland ptving fof gL pekd ¥ 3 - 1 i ; B wealthy iand- lands and mon of life; anda Im re, I ean you =» strong, and true heart. Come with me, Syria; give me tix right to make you forget thas sorrow,” jut Syria shook her head m urnfally “No,” she said, “1 won't forget; he'll come by-and-by; my little charm will bring Il wait.” give fter month, year after year, The Headland lads and lass- es grow up, and married, and encircled their firesides with broods of white haired chaldren; But ful Syria Melville, thie peer sa “belie of the ocean,” still led an isolated life, kept her fruitless lookout from the top of the boulder At last there cams afternoo porten omens, Lhe . bir WEY hue, an i h ing jow line all along the horizon the thunder of the surf was deep and inces- aant. Flooks of sea birds whirled about 10 startled fusion: and at intervals a dull, lurid blazed up in the south. A storm was plainly st hand. “1 ne h as at the Headlands only onee afore, and then we bad a gale shivered things and we are going to The } beaut i i still an tous wore : i i , and con flash ver see sich these that t have it again.” old fisherman was correct; about sunset 1t came, with a thandering crack and crash, ax if the very heavens were being rolled together. All night long it continued, and Syria sat at the win- dow, straining her eves in the darkness and listening with a strange thrill at her heart to the incessant signal gun. bar: and the beach was lined with fish- ermen and wreckers anxiously awaiting her doom. At day dawn the captain rose and put down his pipe. “The guns have ceased,” he maid, putting on his oil eloth coat. The poor ship's gone. 1am going down to the about her head. “I'm going, too, father,” she said. “You, child, through this storm? Nonsense! Stay where you are.” | her eyes. The dum brightness of dawn was slow- ly struggling through the gray mists, and the fury of the gale had spent it- | self. The wreckers sat in groups around their smouldering fires, and the mad | sea moaned, as if in remorse, over its pitilessness, “A bad night, cap'n,” one of them said, as he and Syria approached, “I was born and bred down at Gatehall, and I've never seen the beat 0’ this. Wasn't the gale a rusher?” “‘Ay, she was—but what luck have ye had?” “Poor luck, captain—poor lnck! We tried putting out the boats, but it was no go—the gale was too hard. We icked up only that chap, and he's done or.” Syria's eyes followed his pointing fin- ger, and beheld stretch upon the wet sand the figure of a man. At first the mght sickened her, and then a sud- den energy thrilled through every fibre of her being. Approaching the spot where he lay, she knelt down eae him. A powerful figure, dressed in dark blue, wearing mark of some rank upon his shoulders; a white, still face. curling brown hair lying in brow. Syria understood their task, had their reme- dies all ready, aud went at the work vigorously, “Poor fellow!” Aunt Sarah said at Inst, tears streaming over her furrowed checks, “I'm afraid he's done for. He makes me think of my own dear lad; and he's leaving a poor mother, mebbe, or » wife, heart-broken like me. Poor fellow! Poor fellow!” Syrian said nothing; she only worked. She had been chafing his feet, and now she unbuttoned his woolen shirt, 1n or- der to reach his breast. In doing so, her fingers becama entangled in a gold chain, from which hung a little locket blazing with jewels, and engraved with one word, “Syria.” Aunt Barah caught sight of it, and gave a wild ery; but that gleamed like stars, silenced hor: “Tis he—your Harry! Don't you see? time! said, And they did. By-and-by a taint warmth diffused itself over his body; & BOT, fet us work and save hun!” she he murmured, just above his breath: “Syria! Syria! 1 am coming!” Syria heard him, and without a word related his adventures He t y on stay, and no than Byria, But three after grand wedding at the old farm-house; wis mao @w 1 WwWEOURS liing, the his bride Syria, the found ' * and their beautiful “belleof the ocean,’ cup was full -_-—-—— HOW IS IT DONE? What Five Dollars Can Do A little money goes a great way. the follow- ing, founded upon an incident which Is said to have actually occurred : A owed $15 0 BH; 3} owed £20 to OC; C owed 315 to Dg D owed $30 to E; owed £12.50 to F; owed $10 to A, All of them were seated at table, E F A. having a §) note, 1 remarkiog that it paid $5 owed I B passed the note to C, wi ark that it paid §5 of the he ows i pied it of the £15 he D banded t £30 he owed hin E gave it to ¥, to 3 of the $12.50 he owed hiw, F passed it back 0 A, saying, “This pays half the amount 1 owe you.” A again passed it to B saying, “1 now only ows you sav B passed it again to C, mark, “This reduces my you $10." C again paid it to D, reduc n debited ness $5, D paid it over to E, 8 ying owe you $20." nue of payment apily ou account with i 5 28] © A passed it ' a canceling the balance « ness, B banded it to C, reducing his it edness to $5. C Cand eled the balance o D by hauding the note Lo him D paid it again to E, saying, *'I now only owe you $15." Then E remarked to F, **If you will give me $2.5, this will settle my in- debtedness to you," F took the $2.50 from his pocket, handed it to E, returning the $5 to pocket, nd thus the spell was broken, the sing'e $5 note having pald $82.50 and canceled A's debt to B, C's debt to D, E’sdevt to F, and F's debt to A, and at the same time having reduced B's debt to C from £20 to $5, and D's debt to E from $30 to $15 # Fob Lis dell to bs ba iis os. Amazing the Kina. least, if, on visiting the court of a civ- jlized country, be were called upon to method of proving his desirability as a story in “Two Kings of Uganda.” Swimming is a very rare accomplish- with “Yes. I veplied, “a little.” *1 should be most happy."’ “When will you do nL?” “Whenever you wish.’ “Will you come now?’ he asked, with great interest, “I's it not too late?” “Ah, you will not come now!” he repeated, in a disappointed tone. “Yes, now, if you like,” I said, So up goes the King, stepped from his throne, took me by the hand and led me out, followed by a crowd of pages, and we made our way to the pond, It was rather muddy, but I took off my clothes and, plunging into the water, swam about, to the King’s great satisfaction and delight. He had evi. dently doubted my proficiency in so t an art, snd when he found that was no deceiver, his respect for me was unbounded, sn————— AP MP AA, —W. T. Woodard’s fall sale aggrega- io 3113.90 for 223 head, an average of FASHION NOTES, ———— I That we are not to be allowed to for- get the Paris Exposition, which is almost a thing of the past, is easily to be seen in the many and gorgeously colored fabrics, whose names instantly recall to our mind all the richness and magnificence of the exhibits of the dif ferent conntries which were displayed there. The fabrics which will be used this winter for ball and reception dresses, partake of all these magnificent colors. The broeades, made over plain skirts of black or white satin, are mar- vels of eolor, radinting with multi-eolor- ed tints of exquisite shades, with superb flowers trailing from their sheafs of 1 ray ", Not only faney dresses, but all dresses wool, also cloths employed for ont- | side wraps, are found in the same glow- ing COLOTA. The effect of these colors be de seribed; they mnst bo | appreciated, We have attached | instance, we hear of the Bolero. This 1 18 nothing new—nothing than a | hat which novelties have | finally shoved round, { but which “fashion” snddenly re | stored to favor. ack or ¢ iO} are not to seen to be also strange, odd nies to all articles. For mors BLUOCeRNLIYE into the Linas i | back It is made of bi | colored felt, trimmed with por with plumes and with silk or kn We have a bolero ix | felt, lined with i | with two pons, veivel. i | beautiful y #4 13 Ori orange vellow, | will bu { ter. | Among the i BOen, 18 one very 1 ful—the tuniqne without plats. Our model : | black velvet lined with being of black whic very abundantly y prev nteresting, because 1 18 sd is of Nik It is a large redingot silk: the fronts and the back nthe Yi | plaited, which shows I ie back the | same portion of the fron ! The sleeves are o and the coll i and cuffs of black ma | Scotch plaids are in g large squares, or st velvet as § Avat : Yelvel in ih a rather color ation, by lack or came y Are 115 | a brown or gray found ied work from HAaR« 43 {i din- ilks of HORSE NOTES, So — Wallace McClelland lias sold to E, Muleaby his half interest in the two- vear-old colt Sunnybrook, by Ten Broeck, dam Lady Winfred, ~The Detroit book-mukers were recently swindled by the telegraph wires announcing the results of the West Side races al Chicago being cut, — At Linden Park W, C. Daly pur- based out of a selling race the twee year-old eolt ®ir William, by Wood- land, out of Retricution, for $1.525. —Pefore leaving the East, Baldwin effected a contract with the famous jockey, Barnes, for next year, agreeing to pay him $8,000, Darpes will report in California by February 1. the well-known two- year-old, by Vauxhall, is very 1.1, hav- ng taken the prevailing pneumaonis which seems to have assume. an ep lemie form in many places, —Jeonard W. Jerome and De Cour- coy Forbes, the presidents of the Coney Island and New York Jockey Clubs, we SR CCORSOT, to spend the holidays, —Macey Brothers have bought In [exington, Ky., the 4-year-old chestnut mare Susan, by a Alcantra, dam Susie, $2000, Dictator mare for te oat ' ¢ -— Ex.Governor Oden Dowie, of Maryland, has purchased from IR. G, Westmore the chestnut yearling filly by Stratford, dam Glengari by hing. ohn Condon has sold his half in- | terest in the young stallion Dilligent, by Dictator, to the owner of Lhe other | half, John G. R. McCorkle, lessee of { the Point Dreeze track, i For the jcious riding of King | Roxbury at Nashville, or November ] | Gerhardy was suspended for the re- | mainder of the meeting, but was subse- | quently reinstated and permitied to November 4. susp { ride on has Asi - Lzreorge Carrell, 1 Mr. M. ( tud, Lexington, Ky., the brood. daw of Riley), y War Dance, Ry., lay, | purchased from land B | are (zeneva {foaled 1880 1 | George, for $30.0 obigrt 1313 chesiuuL, of SL ~— While at exercise recently the Hon, Plutarch rup- rel 15 A O- gelding blo vessel, 1.4 PE gelding and was senl over th tie 3 A «33 of rkham 3 arellan, in their work, Elizab#th n November 3ill Day bought the geidin giving filly Woodrance for him, Glenmound won that event O15 qa t about him at “Father” 2 {zlenmounrd, Ww i quite i of the 1 CWeIs, i ¥ +1 IngaeMa the fi Kinneys that are wirneas and {ne of I 3 George appeared on turf two of them stake wi these is Mi. Lebanon, Clark stakes ten days after a gn ish with three other slake Wile — Mr. Charles Backman has recer sold to go Ayres orse M Leland, America. Miss La ive the ners, WHO Won $ as to to tat sired by Young brother in 1885, Rosemay by lure is a full 2.25%. { ~Mr. F. horse Leo wold’s hunting i. record”! a Yen} { foaled Lo land (Gebhiard’s at Mr, F. hox at E I.. recently, L for high jumoin well-known Gray Gris Williston, 5 died ASL he “ix a0 had 1 Monsovean, A great deal 1 combined with black. There has ne so many hats of black and skye b One of the prettiest 1s ol with brim, trimgn cluster of black plumes and a band « kve-blue velvet ribbon, which also far | nishes knots in frontand back ther | is of black felt with an Immense black pigeon, a band of skye-blue ribbon around the crown and loops of the same Lin frout and back. We have also seen a pretly toque of orange velvet, named, from the | color, the Manols, with ornaments of jet and knots of red velvet | dream, an indescribable fancy. | Rebert Macaire, is 1 Been straight £3 ii in black chamois with a soft crown, little puffs of brown | velvet and a beautiful seagull with wavy | wings resting on its brim, This hat | commands the attention of all. Not | less, also, do the traveling and visiting hats of the season receive great favor, For outside wraps, fawn color, with | large designs “‘in relief, 'arein demand. | A oloth, which meets with general ap- | probation, 1s double faced and of two | shades, so that it requires no 1 ning. | The colors which seem to be the most | discordant, harmonize admirably under | the majic wand of fashion. For proof, » hat of Nile green felt is trimmed with two large knots of violet velvet. Also a little toque of orange velvet, round as bolen, is trimmed with cardinal velvet ribbon. We see velvet flowers of all sorts; wake robins, orchids, iris sun- flowers, ete. ; many over shot ribbons of all colors, plumes, wings and birds. It is—if not eclecticism—I know not what. But our readers have, we think, enough of it for to-day. Legend of the Red Bull Calf. No white man ever saw a buffalo west of the Rockies, The Indians of Northwest have a legend to account for this, Many moons ago, they say, some Indians were hunting buffalo on the other side of the range--they were An old medi cine man told them where to find a big hetd which, he said, was led by a red bull calf, Great Spirit would give them all the buffaloes they desired, bt nomenal jump of 6 feet 9; death was due to lockjaw, Pennsylvania Rasiroad ( offered transport all the ‘ark Association wanis, of charge. The ar New Bruns- ich does pack so hard as the present mate- rial, which becomes slippery. The sociation will wait until it sees how Lhe | track will be in dry weather before ac- cepting the offer. wP. lorillard, Rancocas Stud, Jobstown, N. J., bas purchased in Eng- land through Mr. Thomas Cannon, the jockey, the bay horse The Sailor Prince, foaled 1880, bred by Mp B Norio- ton, by Albert Victor, dam Hermita, her dam Affection by Lifeboat. In his turf career, during which he ran in thirty-nine races, he won eight, was {second In ten, third in five and un- | placed in sixleen. —At the ripe age of 30 the greal { broodmare Jesse Pepper died recently {at Inwood Stock Farm, Lexington, | Ky. She was one of the best daugh- | ters of Mambrino Chief, 11, ont. of a | daughter of Sidi Hamet. To the em- | braces of Alcantara she produced the | black mare Alpha, 2.23}, and to Ale. | yore th black mare Iona, 2.174. She | had iu all 18 foals, was the grandam of | Grandes, 3.year-uld record 2.23), and [the great grandam of the 44-year-old | Prince Regent, 2.21}, Major T. B. Merrit, the wall. known horse breeder of St. Paul, Minn., will enter the following year- lings in the 2-year-cld stakes next sum- mer: The filly Antias, by Nutwood Mambrino, out of Lady Elinor, by Contraeser; Harpoon, a chestnut colt, by Nutwood Mambrino, out of Lady Humboldt, by Stocking Chief; Chive alry, also a chestnut My ¥ utwood Mambrino, out of Capi y Ensign, and Aaron Burr, by Nutwood Mam- brino. ~Col. Rs P. Stock Farm, has OIG. Ww free soil es from a place n isa yellow loam, wi £2 Ab es So%h Eiham - bay over at South Elkhorn, The tncsding great youngster is worthy of no- tice, RD qn es voir. Tas and a producer. His granddam was a pro- ducer, and ranks among the broodmares of the land. M
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers