¥
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