¥ Thou Art not Near, Shine Shremzh the gloom lke stars in winter skies Pointing the way my longing stops wonld gd, To conti to thee because | love thes so, Thon art not near me, but I feel thine arm Soft folded round me, shielding me from harm, Guiding me on, as in the days of old, When life was dark and all the ways were cold, Thou art net near me, bat 1 hear thee speak Swenl as a breath of June upon my cheek, And as thou speakest, | forge my fears, And all the darkness of the lonely years, €) love, my love, whale'vr my fale may be lose to thy side, of nevérmore with thee, Absent or present, near or far apart, 1 hou hast ny love and Bilest thou my he A A ai i THE STORY OF A ROSE. Come in little rascal! eried Dr. Packard lercely, seizing hy the collar a wha was peering through the picket fence at the doctor's brill aut garden. The boy was dropped tretubling upon (he office steps, while the big, burly doctor went about among his Mowers, cutting a huge bou- quet. These he gave the culprit, ex- claiming, with equal sternuness: “There, take that home and put it into water! tJulck! Start your heels!” Then he stood upon the steps, chuckling to him- self to see the bare legs of the fright- ened urchin fly up the street, This garden was Dr. Packard’s latest plaything ard pride, “No fun in culti- Vating good ground; nothing to doe- tor!” he bad said when he blasted out the scraggy, worthless limestone ledge, crop. ing out in his office door-yard, tilled In rich soil, and made the ledge gay with vigorous, blooming flowers, Roses and lilies, pansies and fuchsiis, feverfews and hollybocks, gerannuns and heliotropes, phloxes and sweet- williams, verbenas, and carnations, worning-glories elimbing over the door of his office, and sweet peas and nastur- tiums winding in and out the low fence—all responded to his care and blossomed with a perfection and an abundance rarely seen. Nature was in her most grateful mood. Here it was his delight to startle and to reward the children who were drawn to the spot by their love of flowers, He would rise up unexpectedly from behind the hedge of vines and demand, in awful tones: ‘“‘Does your mother like plants? Well, take her that, you scamp,” giving the boy a pink or ger- anium or fuchsia, and adding, in still sharper, gruffer tones, ‘‘and see to it that you bricg back the pot!’ If the boy was not too frightenad and did not run away, leaving the pot on the door- step, his courage was rewarded with yet another plant. One day in June the doctor was out, walking up and down his garden paths, pulling vp a weed here, picking off a faded blossom there and looking with keen pleasure at many a lovely flower. Glancing up suddenly from his bed of perpetual roses, he saw a young girl looking wistfully over the fence. “What Bowers do you like best, my child?” he asked, with a curious change from his usual brusque tone. “Ob, roses, sir,” she answered, ‘“They are the loveliest of all, I think. We have a yellow ro®e that climbs up to the eaves of our house, and another white one thal comes up to my window, and mapy pink ones out in the garden, Bat they live out all winter, and are not like those,” she said, nodding to- wards the doctor's roses, “Come In and see them,” said the doctor; *‘and go around all you like.” The young girl thanked him and went quietly around, fouching some of the flowers gently, daintily smelling the perfume of many and noticing each, But she stood longest by the rose bed. The delicate color eame and went in her cheeks, and her pretty blue eyes shone with excitement and delight. Dr. Packard watched her silently while he went from bed to bed, cutting many blossoms, These he gave to her, Her eyes opened wide with stirprise, She thanked 1.im gravely but simyly, while her bappy face spoke yet more eloquently, As she turned to pass ou! the gate, the doctor called to her: “Walt a moment, Here, take this rose, I grew it from a seed. It won't blossom for me, perhaps it will for you. Give it 4 good chance. Let me ses the flower when it comes. And here's a book,” be continued, “that will tell you how to feed it.” Tuming to =o again, the girl saw a gray haired, bent man on the other side of the street, walking slowly. “On, father!” she called, “see what beautiful Howers I have, and a new rose, tool The doctor gave them all to me.” Mr, Carter's grave face lighted up as he stepped across the street, “‘Infeed they are beauties, my child. here, vou hav you. It will get good care, sir," he added, turning to Dr. Packard, “This is your girl, Joe?" asked the doctor, the six,”’ he answered. a tender, sad smile crossing his worn features, “Petter sot her ont in the garden. Quite too pale and thin, man. Throw away her books! Let her dig; let her make mud pies again! Keep her out of doors! Let her come in only to eat and sleep!” sald Dr. Packard with a threatening scowl, quickly followed by a nod and 8 laugh toward Lucy, “This will be a nice place for my witd can’t blow the pot over; and then, too, I won't forget to water it when close beside my mignonette und tieliotrope, Tluree sweet flowers all in a row! Won't it be lovely when the rose Llossoms, for I am sure it will; aod, mother, see! I can see it the first thing In the morning right out of my own window, Mrs, Carter sat on the porch knit- ting, but her eyes followed fondly the slight figure of her child as Lucy ran around from bed to bush, and the wother answered with gentle smiles the girl's enthusiastic outbursts of delight in her newest treasure, Mr. Carter drove a long stake down beside the new rose and tied it securely, : while Lucy eagerly walched every move- ment, “Ol! I am sure of a blossom soon, dear father; and what color do you suppose it will be? Pink or red, 1 hope. Red with a dark, velvety heart! We all like that color best, don’t we?” she asked, turning affectionately to each parent, while the pale face shone with innocent delight and anticipation. Then she picked a large bunch of the hardy roses which the modest garden grew, and, silting down beside her mother, began to arrange them. “When I am a little larger and stronger—Ilam a good deal stronger than 1 was, am [I not, dear mother?’ she interposed, sitting up very erect for | the moment. Not waiting for an an- swer, she went on breathlessly: **When | I am older 1 an going to spend all my time growing flowers. You'll give me | more beds, father, and then in| the winter I'll have the tea and hybrid | roses Dr. Packard’s book tells about in the house. I can grow many of them | from a few roots which I can buy for the first start, you snow, “Then I'll sell them and thelr bios. sows. I have heard ever so many peo- ple say that they wished there was some place in the village where flowers could be bought, and Mrs, Browne, know, sent to Boston for roses for the party. 1 could sell roses tor things, and make up lovely bouquets, | Chen I'll gave ull the money to you, father, and’ belp you pay Mr, Browue the money you owe him, When [ had | earned enough, perbaps, I could have a little glass house here, and then | could grow more flowers, and we three would live together always in this little | house and be so happy, and my roses would help you both, [ am sure my | rose will blossom, and with it 1 am : going to begin helping you,” Lucy smiled to herself over the rose | embowered castle in Spain, and burying | her face In the cluster of roses said | with sigh of childish ecstasy: * are like a glimpse of heaven!” The few hundred dollars, which | Lucy's father had as yet beer unable | to pay on their cottage, was a source of constant worry and trouble to both her | father and mother. Indostrious and siving, they Lad always been burdened too heavily lo succeed. Narrow means | had always been their lot, and illness | and grief their frequent guests, From a little toddling child Lucy had show n a sweet thoughtfulness for them, and had been companion and comforter in | a measure far beyond her years, She | was full of childish delights and games, yet the visions of caring for her parents | in the coming years were often before | her and made her sedate and grave, The summer days passed by quickly, and Lucy's rose grew luxuriaatly, The | tall stalks were covered with abundant | leafage, but there were no blossoms, | But Lucy's faith and care did not wa- | ver, and when the frosty nights of late October came her father transplanted the rose into a larger pot and brought it into the house. Lucy daily watched and tended it, and the rose tree spread its green leaves and drank in the sunshine and the warmth all through the snowy weather, bul gave no grate- ful response of bud or flower. Its gentle caretaker did not thrive so. A slight cold taken in early winter could not be shaken off. The sorrow- ful father and mother watched ber | daily failing and slipping from their loving grasp. The delicate flush on the cheek deepened into a crimson, the white skin grew yet whiter, and the slender figure dropped like a faded flower. Dr. Packard visiied the house daily and sadly shook his head, “Lack of vitality, Joe. Nothiug to build on, Too much soul, too little body, II cannot save her.” But with Lucey Dr. Packard was ale ways jolly, and made her bedside merry with jests and bright with flowers, She contided to him her hopes, her falth in her rose and her visions and plans, which grew brighter as her own sweet life evbed away. To please her, the doctor drew a rough plan of a little greenhouse and made out a list of plants and flowers for her to begin with, The rose tree stood In Lucy's and she spent hours gazing ft its frésn green boughs, With the doctor’s help she cut off many slips and pleased her- self trying to root In boxes of sand, cal- ling them ber rose’s little children, Slowly but surely the end came. Tt was a warm May morning, The cham- Ler was filled with the song of birds and the perfume of the apple-blossoms floating in at the window. A light breeze fluttered the leaves of tee rose tree. Suddenly Lucy rose up. im bed, exclaiming: *‘Ob, father! Oh, mother! Seel See the roses! Red blossoms on my own rosel My beautiful rose!” A Yo such They slight gasp followed, and the sobbing parents knew that the soul of their child had blossomed Into immortal beauty, After Luey's death life in the cot- tage was outwardly the same, Wear. ily the father went to his work, more bent and grave in aspect. Silently the mother performed her household tasks, and together they spent the summer evenings in their garden. The flowers their child had loved were remembered one by one; but the barren rose received the tenderest care, It was as luxuriant us ever, but had ceased growing almost entirely, while the rose’s children, the cuttings Lucy had planted, took vigor- ous root, and grew so rapidly that they bade falr to outstrip the mother- plant, The autumn came at last and the roses were again sheltered in the house, No promise of buds was given, but the lonely father and mother could not part with their child’s rose, One evening in the early summer of the next year the father said with trembling lips; *‘ Look! there are buds on our Luey’s rose!” Slowly the buds grew, and when at length the perfect rose unfolded what a glorious oné it was! Deep, dark red, with leaves of richest velvet, and magnificent in size and fragrance, Bud after bud perfec ted, until the rose tree was covered in radiant beauty, as if all the love and care that had been bestowed on it had Mr, Carter joyously cut some of the | largest lowers to carry to Dr, Packard. As he went with them a hard featured | man stopped him, “Oh, 1 say, Carter,” sald Mr. Browne, “you'll have to pay tue rest of that mortgage soon. 1 think I've been | it must be seven years Bas and I want | The sight of the bunch of roses was | to the father's beart, money he knew not, | and benumbe?!, he stumbled | Packard's door, ” be brokenly, “Lucy's roses, sald **These roses grow here?’ demanded | hearty voice, ‘They are magni- Such color! Such form! Got | a ficent! *“Yes,' absently answered Mr. Car- “bush Is covered with them." “Good! I must see them; fore the amazed father knew it he was and be | ard, and the stranger following, “This 1s truly wonderful,’ said the | who was a friend of Dr “1 want to | How much will you take for | ity" **I cannot sell my child's rose,’ an- | “If our child were here and could | speak she would be eager fo sell It." who stood silently by, | her dearest wish was that We love the “You know ber rose should help us. us, but those are always ours," “You have several young plants of this same rose?’’ asked the florist, “Yes, about twenty.’ replied Mr, “Well, I'll give you §1.500 for those, and you send me all the cuttings that But, understand, you are | not to give away or sell a single cut. ting. My night is exclusive,” So it was settled. Mr. and Mrs, | Carter still live in *' Rose cottage," as it | is called. Lucy's roses bloom every. | where in the neat dooryard. The! i dark-red flowers are freely given away, although not a cutting can be parted with; and never a sick room in the vil by Lucy's gentle mother, Dr. Packard’s garden still flourishes, and he still frightens the ever-increas. ing number of small boys with his old energy; while on the florist’s counters are seen large, glowing heaps of the Lucy rose, the favorite of Lhe world of fashion and wealth, Boys Who Do Not Play. An Englishman traveling in Ger many writes: “German boys never play. They have no games, no sports, Life is to them a serious business, During a year’s residence in a German town ~where was a university, a gym- nasium, a real schule, people’s schools and various private schools, and where, baving two boys of my own in school, { had good opportunity to learn of boy's life] never saw or heard, with the exception of one game of hide and seek, a single game. Once, in crossing a Jarge court, 1 saw a company of boys chosing sides for a game of ball, I watched with interest a spectacle so unusual, wishing to see how a Ger man boy would look when actually en gaged in a game; but I was disappoin- ted, as the company soon broke up in a fight. I was mot surprised, for fight- ing, not in anger or hot blood, but eas. fly and naturally, is the amusement of the German boy. Not that he 1s more pugnacions than other boys; but the military discipline that curbs him m school and the sight of soldiers when. ever he steps into the street keep cone iin him the ides and almost ture,” WEALTHY BOOTBLACKS, One Who Owns a Seat In the New York Stock Exchange. The idea of a4 bootblack owning a seat on the New York Stock Exchange may sesin at first absurd, yet there 1s a member of that leading exchange whose fortuna has been made on the **shining of gent’s bo 18,” and who is to-day the proprietor of two shops, One of these is down town, near the Produce Ex- change building, while the other is in the basement of a building near Madi« son square, The proprietor, who has made so much money on shoe-blacking, is known as “Tony,” being of Itallan parentage, and was recently married in fine style in a Cathol ¢ church on Mott street. He can probably draw his check for a bigger sum than half the men who drop in to have their shoes blacked. The fact that he has recently bought a seat in the Produce Exchange speaks well for his habits of economy and his thrift, The shining of boots is, in fact, quite a profitable sort of employment here, In most of the big offices buildings down town there are comfortable chairs, presided over usually by two Italians, The stands at which there are two men in attendance have an ad- vantage over the others, from the fact that men will go where they will lose the least amount of time, Nine brok- ers in ten will go to the stand where there are two men, in order to save a | seconds of valuable time. Down town the street eorners are dotted with these ehalrs, but the “‘artists’’ who get rich at this sort of fing are those who | open up places inside. 1 asked one of | these to-day what Lis daily receipts | He was evasive, but replied that | the fees and the stutis- | showing | He three blacking and the application of it, goes on 10 show the receipts of He takes into consideration the | { the male population get a shine a day, the { population patronizes floating or hotel | the bootblacks, and that the men - is a Dest after owner and oneof the men to Le met Sunday - i A Successful Young Writer's Ad- | vice, I often hear aspiring young writers | | say: “If I could only get a start, 1 feel | positive I would make a success as an author,” A “‘start’’ in iderature is best made by the individual efforts of the writer, If is a mistaken idea that influence necessary to a foothold in the literary world, If a young has | a manuscript Omshed, let ber send it, with a Lrief, simple note to the editor of the magazine to which she believes | it best suited, but just here is where hundreds of writers fail. They cannot | adapt that more failures in authorship | writer authors than to any other, except! worthless and careless writing. I have | | known woemen-—and men, too for that the Forum and stories and serial novels then express the utmost surprise at their dec- I believe that every manu- at the due to tho Inck of the author as to the | manuscript it-elf., Each magazine has its distinct policy and constituency, and the character of these is reflected In the text, It 1s the duty of an ambitious author to study these before she begins to send her manuscripts around. Her chances will be increased by doing so and her reputation among editors better than those who throw their productions around indiscriminately, The Phonortograph. A machine has been patented in Great Britain and will shortly be made known to the public that promises to make ducks and drakes of type-writers, phonographs, graphophones and all previous inventions. The inventor of this mechanical prodigy has just brought it over from America and its existence for the present is practically a secret, The new invention, which ia named the * is about the size of a large elgar box and weighs five and one-half pounds, There are two ime mense adyantagus possessed by. the First, it will re- having. to be specially prepared for the purpose, The very highest hopes are entertained a8 to the univeisal success of the “pho- uortograph,’”’ full descriptions of which will, no%doubt, shortly appear in the technical journals. Its prospects may, in fact, be gaaged when it is re. membered that in the United States no present plionograph and graphophone. One hundred thousand of these wa- chines are already in use and they are rented out for an annual payment of $40 each. WHAT A REAL BATTLE IS, Little Opportunity for Display of Herolc or | Poetic Glory. A battle does not consist, as many imagine, in a grand advance of victori- ous lines of attack, sweeping everything before them or the - helter-skelter fl ght of the unfortunate defeated, The his- forian must so present it in his des- criptions, the artist in bis paintings. Even the writer of an official account must limit himself to the presentation of such moments as demand special treatment, or to such episodes as impor- tant and instructive tactical move- ments, ing. which which, pass more quietly, but | neve theless, contribute to the cannot be reproduced with- out too much expansion, Those inci dents, which no account of the battle, official or unofMicial, takes any note of — the thousand participants, the cases in which the direction and control of affairs glide out of the hands of the officers —these are the little drops of water that make the mighty vie Lory or de- and one events observed able ocean The opening of the day of a great hattle is generally very prosrie, After an uncomfortable night passed in a wel or cold bivouae, where the men, wrap- ped in their overcoals, have been gathered shivering about the camplire, vain to gel warm; after the simplest of breakfasts, of which the draught of pure cold water was the only try: fig in the soldier goes to batlle,. Then be may never éven see the enemy; indeed, unusually under shrapnel fire, or less camping in mud and under small arm fire await hun, The feeling of Le- ing exposed to the invisible missiles of the enemy, mingled with the tainty as to what Is going on to the 1 best apparcntly use- i FOOD FOR THOUGHT. Modest men, in trying to be (mpu- dent, always get saucy, Nothing will so soon make a person hot as cool treatment, The freshest and sweetest fish from the saltest sea, In the race of life it isn’t the fast men who come out ahead, Life on earth is short, but mines our future, Ile 18 a very weak man whom money can lure away from himself, Coquettss often beat up the game, while the prudes bag it. Prosperity unmasks the vices; adver- sity reveals the virtues, It is much better to have your gold In the hand than in the heart. There 1s only one excuse for impu- dence, and that 1s ignorance, One ungratefol man does an injury to all who stand in peed of aid. One of the best gifts of Providence is the veil that conceals futurity. Many have lived on a pedestal who will never Lave a statue when dead, As the dawn precedes the sun, so ac quaintance should precede love, Conscious innocence blushes where brazen gulit never changes color. Ignorance of the law excuses no one — especially from serving on a jury. It takes a pretly strong man to dis- play his grit when he has te bite the aust, Don’t qualify your aceeptance of a contract unless you mesa 0 make a new proposition, The flights of the human mind are not from enjoyment te enjoyment, but from hope to hope. More belpful than wisdom is one draught of simple human pity that will not forsake us, What are the best days in memory? Those in which we met a compavion come deter it Everybody must care for his bor’s opinion, whether he care veighbor or not, The great secret of happiness throw one’s sell into the circumstances that surround one, The philosopher gels wisdom even a fool. A fool can get ne wisdom even from a philosopher, ati. 2ig a for his is to fe irom A good many people know the value of a dollar who do not realize the value of a hundred cents, When you hear a man say he has had a bad wife, just ask him what he bas done to make her a good one, The withering rose reveals the hidden thorn, When pleasure has ceased, folly ing #plendid progress, In such wo- tics exhausted and it is only a question of grit and sense of duty, Sheridan tells us: ments ta are “Indeed the battle of Chickamauga was something like that of Stone River, victory with the side that had the grit the longest its relinquishment from the field.’ to the morals of fortunate termination of battle force an army which has done its duty Exhausted to its last grap, pushed to tne highest amd with frightful the | ita resistance, pitch, gives way { the rear. This is to-day no longer an organized retreat from position to po- Nature once’ in a while makes a fool; but, as a general thing, fools, like gar- ments, are made to order, Don’t lay any certain plans for the future; it is Ike planting teads, and ex- pectin zs to raise toadstools If mistakes wore as shabby suits in as they wore behind, people would take more pains to aveid them. The joke that 18 too far-fetched is abie 10 become s'ale in transit, There fore a joke should never be carried too {ar, Give me the liberty to know, to think, to believe, and to uller freely, according to conscience, abeve all other Hberties, The fashion of this world passeth away, and ii is not the outward scene but our learning in it that is too last $ La : ! Man’s highest happiness will not be Every person has a legitimate right to search untrammelied for the religion practiced, but ac rent. Like the mountain wrrent, which fraught with havoe and disaster, over. flows its banks. Woe to the land that | can oppose no other dams to this stream jon of the troops, These will be washed away like sand heips by the roaring water. LA; -— The Indians Not Dying Cut, The novelists, reporters and others who write Indian spe ches, beginning with the words “I am the last of my race, the red man is vanishing before the white man as the leaves, ete...” had better Jook upon the facts, It now seems that any statement to the effect that the number of our Indian popu'a- tion is slowly decreasing is not in ace cord with the truth, The Indian is not dying off and vanishing from the earth any morse than the Caucasian is, They have, for the most part, adopted semi- civilized habits and quiet lives, They are increasing rather than decreasing. In the quiet, orderly communities of the Indian Territory, in the reserva tions of Dakota and in the pueblos of New Mexteo and Arizona, the Indian is encamped peacefully, and his chil dren are being educated. He is fairly prosperous, provided the Indian agents and the contractor do not try to starve him, and be is raising his family and increasing in the land. A Coffin Peddler. A new occupation is followed by a around New Mexico, peddling coffins, In a wagon drawn by mules be carries about twenty cheap coffins of assorted sizes. He goes through the country alter the fashion of other call ing at each house, and asking ina matter of fact way if anything in his line is wanted, It is not often that be sells a coffin for immediate use, but to enjoy it undisturbed. God's greatest gift to man is his | thought power, and to weaken it or in- | terfere with 1s regular advancement is an insulting offense to the bestower of the gift, It is no part of religion te pray to : the will soon have so small a circle of friends that the task will be easy, ‘ We have no desire for a future that is not laden with great things and de- velopments now unthought of by man. Let fortune do her worst, whatever she makes us lose, as long as she never ma’ es us lose our honesty and our in- dependency, Love is the greatest of human affec- tions, and friendship the noblest and most refined improvement of love, Metaphysics, in whatever latitude the term be taken, is 8 science or comple ment of sciences exclusively occupied with mind. False | appli: ess renders men 8 orn and proud, ad that happiness is hover com- munca od. True happiness renders them kind and sensible, and that hap- piness is always shared. The art of patting the right men in thie right places is first in the science of government; but that of ting places Jott the discontented is the most difhi- Those who assume to correctajl
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers