TO GEORGE KEN) x. © fear'ess soul, whose strong uplifted arm Wielding with courage high Truth’s nased blade Rent Russiahy veil, and showed the horrors To a whole world in Judgment stern ar- rayed! O tender he rt, forgetful all of self, Striving to succor those that sit in grief, Bpending with joy thy strength that thou might’st bring Unto the sorrowing some sweet relief! And not in vain thy toil; thy loving words Robbed foul injustice of its cruel smart, And Tessages—'gainst which thou balanced ife— Brought hope to many. an agonizing heart, Nor is this all, for yet a day shall come strong, When God shall bare his mighty arm and sweep From off the face of earth this awful wrong. And thy brave soul, wating this recompense, Whether in heaven or on earth it bic e, Stall on that day of its sore travail see, And in that hour it shall be satisfied ! ~ Anna Thaxter Church, i i——— ~ A DREAM ROMANCE, » — Before I left home in America my mother called me to her. “You are going to England, Robin, my dear,” she said. “You will see your father’s people. It will be a new experience to you. You will see the place whore he was born, and portraits of his ancestors. Now, his is a very old family; but imine is just as old, only mine is French. We were titled people. An ancestor of mine was a Count—the Count Jouvin. He was a splendid creature, I am told, but in his youthful days a little wild. Dear, dear, he lived nearly two old letters that he had written, and his watch and his miniature. as well-born remember, you ure of the Count. You may show your aunts, if you like. stand, until my mother cried out: “Why, Robin, you are exactly like him! It might be your portrait.” Then I saw the likencss myself. 1 was indeed the cxact counterpart of this ancestor of mine—this wild young Count who had lived years be- fore. It delighted my mother very much to kzow it. I was silly enough to be pleased myself. When I left Americs I carried the miniature with me, and it arrived safely in England. My paternal uncle and his sisters lived in a fine old English mansion. tome miles from London. 1 reached the house, afier some hours of railway travelling, cold and weary, and ready for a good dinner: and having been admitted, 1 was left, for a few mo- ments, in a large parior, over the man- tel of which hung a very old picture of an English officer. He was a young man, with stern, gray eves, seemed to stare down upon me from the canvas in an aggressive sort of Way that, had he been alive, | should have expected a challenge on the spot. 1 supposed that he was an ancester of mine, but he did not look friendly, and I took a terrible dislike to him, though I laughed at myself for it. Try as I would to turn my eyes from his pictured face, they wandered back 200 a § | my elbow said, “Mr. Hobin I believe,” that I averted them, and that the family were absent, make me as comfortable as she until their return, and would I BUpper now or go to my room first? | chose supper, and having discussed it that there was no need of agreeable that night, for I weary and sleepy, and, stupid. The room into which I was ushered was a tremendous one, with a fireplace set about with a screen, and a four-post bed with curtains, in which ten persons could easily have The floor was of oak, with a rich carpet in the centre, and were straight-legged chairs, straighter tables rang-d about at tervals, All was stiff, and massive and ugly, with excep ion—that exception doing was both consequently, wide slept, Square there and in- one girl with powdered hair 2nd a very low-cut bodice, who held a half-blown rose in one hand and shaded her eyes with the other. It was an old picture, but the tints face as soft and new and from a living model who still awaited her seventeenth birthday instead of a couple of hundred years before, so that the belle who Fad sat for it might have died a withered octogenarian be. yond the memory of any living man, As I looked at the face an odd fancy came upon me. I felt that I had known this girl and loved her. I felt that I loved her still. I wanted to kiss those ripe, pouting lips—to hold the little round-tipped fingers that grasped the rose. 1 actually found tears in my eyes as [ turned away and prepared for repose, and I put out the light with a marvellous regrot at losing sight cf the face that so im- me, . ts 4a ‘“4m I falling in love with a pic- 7 1 asked myself; snd a sudden comical remembrance of Sam Weller's young y Who conceived a tender passion for ‘von of the vax images” in his window, ended the * matter by making we laugh aloud, Having laughed, I yawned-—having yawned, I fell asleep—slecping, 1 dreamed. I fancied myself not myself, bat another man—in fact, my titled an- cestor, the Count Jouvin., 1 walked up and down a long green lane, with my riding-whip in my hand: beyond, & groom held two horses, one bearing a lady's saddle. I seemed to be im- patient and looked at my watch often. I expected some one—who was it? At last I knew. A step sounded on the grass; a voice called “Henri,” 1 turned. The lady of the picture stosd before me. In living presence, I saw again the sweet face, the flowing hair, the white bosom, the snowy hand, its fingers holding a rose. I rushed to meet her. | pressed a kiss upon those hands. I led her forward. 1 spoke to her—not in my own language. Ispoke in French. told her that from that moment I was her slave, and she wept ; and I led her to the spot where the horses stood saddled and bridled, and we rode away, the moon shining down upon us, her eyes turned always upon my face. Out of this dream I was awakened with a start. It was still night. The room was dark. It was all a foolish dream, but I felt guilty and remorse- ful. Somehow it seemed that my con- impossible to sleep lost consciousness. Again I slept ; again I dreamt. ~~ lovely park. The branches were bare, feet, He was armed with a sword. us, Another stood a little Count Jouvin. this gray-eved Englishman and I. | dently endeavored to take my life. For a long while I merely defended myself, impossible, Oue wounded. Human further forbearance. of us mus: nature forbade My sword er. upon the ground. I saw the blood drip from the p int of my blade as | withdrew it. 1 heard my second mutter, “Il est mort,” and I heard the Englishman whisper, “Doctor, is he dead 7” I turned towards the doctor, saw for a moment his grave, square face, and then awoke. 1 was the Count Henri Joavin of the past century no longer. I was once more myse.f—Hobin den, an Au erican, on a visit to his English relatives: and there was a polite knock at the door, and a calm English servant brought my aunt's love, and had | slept we fast would be ready in half an hour When 1 had dress d. I had still an uncomfortable memory of my dream, as of a thing that had actually happen. ed. I could not quite believe in my vwn identity, and I still felt an odd tenderness for the girl in the old pic- ture. 1 looked atit long and earnest.y, and it smiled upon me. “You are, doubiless, mv grandmoth- great-grandmother,” 1 said. look- ing back over mv shoulder: do believe I've fallen in love with you." Then I went down stairs to be wel- comed by a prim old gentleman, who himself my uncle, and law. ers ns were my sunts. They were kind, hospitable, cheery. They asked los ing questions about my father, and the: bragged a little about our good eld family as to one as proud of i themselves, and all the while the gray- eyed officer stared sternly down upon me from his tarnished frame on the oak panelled wall. At last it was im- possible to avoid speaking of him. “This is an ancestor of mine, | supe pose, sir?” I said to my nnele. “Yes, Robin,” replied he. ves: that was Col. James Rawden.” “He doesn’t look cheerful,” said 1. “‘He must have been avery unhappy man,” said my uncle. “Of course, as you may guess, he lived two hundred years ago, and he died in a duel.” “A duel?” | cried. “Priscilla.” said my Aunt Deborah, “the gentlemen will excuse ne.” I arose aud opened the door for the When I had closed it my uncle went on: “Yes, Robin, this long gone ancestor of ours died in a duel. It seems that he as two ladies, cold and stern to win her love, She, remember, was not of our blo wl, Her picture hangs over the mantle piece in the room you slept in. Perhaps you remarked it? She eloped with a French nobleman. Col. Rawden followed him fought him. The killed Lim. It's a sad story. She must have been a pretty girl, and he a fine, vrave fellow, but it all went somehow. “Yes,” said I, still repulsed by the cold, gray eyes of the picture, though I tried to soften my heart to it: “and, of course, no one knows the name of the Frenchman. It is so very long ngo.” “The Freucaman was the Count Henri Jouvin,” said my uncle. “Why, my dear nephew, you look ill.” I felt ill, but gave no explanation. But I did not speak of my mother's aristocratic ancestors during my visit to my father's relatives: and to this day I shudder when I recall my strange dream. Coupling it with my lHkeness to the Count Jouvin, the sense of ident- ity with him which I felt even on awakening, and the passion with whch the beautiful picture on the wall of my ancestral mansion inspire | me. I ask myself if there can be any truth in the fancy some have entertained that one soul sometimes inhabits more than one body. For if 1 could have faith in this, I should believe that I, Kobin Rawden, wus once no other than the Count Henri Jouvin, and I do not re- #pect that fellow, end am not pleased with the idea, S— a ——— ot ~ The Sea Novell t. “How came you, Mr. Russell,” | asked, writes an interviewer of Mr, W. Clark. Russell, ‘how came you, a practical sailor, to take to novel writ- ing? “Well, the taste for writing first came to me in a very curious man- ner at sea. We were homeward bound from Sydney, and when abreast of the i ro when the batten hen-coop was dis- covered missing. The captain told me to look for it. 1 couldnt find it, whereupon the captain grew angry. | was ‘cheeky,’ and so the captain or- dered me below, bread and water and irons, a prisoner for the rest of the voyage. Having naught to do, I took to reading Tom Moore, and that start- ed me to the writing of poetry. 1 didn’t go to sea again. “I then wrote “John Houldsworth, Chief Mate’; that was my first nautical novel. Then a well-known publisher asked me to write one for him, and ‘The Wreck of the Grosvenor’ was my response to his request. However, his reader returned it with the remark that furniture. It wasaccepted by Marston. me ashore. ‘No,’ footed, and I shall stick to the sea.’ My object is to keep the standard ele- vated, written for boys, and yet England, which is a great maritime country, possesses no great sea novelist.” I loudly demurred: «Mr. Russell, vou are fishing; however, let that pass—are your stories founded on fact?"-—¢Yes, very often: for in. mutiny at sea, in which the steward had thrown over a bottle containing an account of it. 1 pondered over ‘The Sea Queen’ was suggest. ed by the true story of a captain's wife, who was on board a steamer, and all the crew, except the captain and mate, fell ill. They worked in the engine. room, she steered and brought the vessel into the haven where they would be. This sea-novel-writing vocation is very dear tome. All my sailors are men 1 have met in the foc'sle, kept watch with, gone aloft with; they are a fast dying type in this age of steamers, And how vast a distinction there is between the bluejacket snd the mer- chantman! The one lithe, active as a cat, full of his ideas of discipline: the other slow, grumbling, discontented, full of bad food and constant plaint. Haif the profanity of poor Jack is to be found in the filthy scut- tie<butt and the fouler harness-cask No, there is not nearly so much bully- ing as there used fo be, except in those beastly Nova Scotian ships. dreadful, Com They are Have you seen this?” ing in wy hand the last which were only twenty-five copies published—written by Herman Melville, that mag: ificent Ame. jean sea-novelist. « «John Marr, and o her s he calls it, and he has been good enough to dedicate it to me.” With great interest I took up the dainty little book by the author of “Omeo” and other exquisite South Sea sketches, And what had be to ‘ay of Mr. Clark Why this “* “The Wreck of the Grosvenor’ enti- ties the author to the naval crown in current literature. Upon the Gros venor's first appearance in these waters I was going to say-—all competent judges exclaimed, each after his own fashion, something to this effect: The very spit of the brine in our faces! what writer, so thoroughly as this one, knows the sea, and the blue water of it: the eailor and the heart of him: the ¢hip, too, and the sailing and handling of a ship?” plac- there Sailors Russell? lie - Date Palms in California, The date found growing In a number of localities in California. and there can be no doubt that when the methods of planting and re produc. tion are better understood they will multiply rapidly throughout the interi- or of the State, They have been sue- cessfully grown st Santa Barbara, tiverside, Pomona, Ontario, Santa Ana, Elsinore, Winters, Newcastle, as wel: as in other localities. At the citrus fair in Sacramento, there was a fine exhibit of both the red or ¢ hina and also the white dates, by 8S, C. and J. BR. Wolfekill of Winters, Yolo County. of these trees were planted in 97, and had been obtained from some of the common dried dates purchased in San Francisco, The little trees only grew about one foot each year, and were twenty is seen 1 date, The seeds fw’ date had but the white had not. by the Wolfekills that the season here was too short to ripen this fruit. [tis ripened perfectly inate and pistillate flowers were not near enough to each other, so that one could fertilize the other, To facilitate thie, in the date regions the trees are planted near each other, avd about one male to twenty female trees. The white dates exhibited were about an inch and a quarter long, while the red date was considerably smaller, Mr. J. W. Smyth of New. astle, in Placer County, has the r d or China date in bearing. A: Santa Barbara and at Rae, as well ns in a few other laces in this State, the date is now aring fruit. Recent inquiries show that a large number of young date trees are now growing in California, and have not been affected by our win- of these were grown from it will be years before number of these come into bear KOSSUTH IN EXILE. IN HIS STATION HOME AT THE AGE OF EIGHTY SIX, », An Italian correspondent writes: It wus in 1865 that Kossuth, trusting in| the promises of Louis Napoleon to ob- tain the recognition of the ind pend- ence of Hungary fiom the Austrian Emperor, came to Turin. Weall know what then happened. In this city, or near it, he has ever since remained. For many years Kossuth’s only de- sire has been to avoid publicity and he | has led a life of complete retirement, | receiving only those visitors against whom it was impossible for him to | shut his door. From time to time, the distinguished patriot is reminded that | others are not willing to forget him. | Thus, on Lis attaining his 80th year, | 8 magnificent illuminated album, | bound in vellum and inlaid with prec- | | ious stones, containing 30,000 signa. | | tures, was brought him by a deputa- | | tion of his countiymen. From two | | different cities came a gold pen; a! | smaller album from the city of Arad, {| where during the war for dence, thirteen Hungarian generals were hanged, and various other tokeps | that his zeal for the liberty of his | | country js still remembered and ap- | | preciated. Speaking once about how he | been tormented for his autograph, he | related with much humor how | American lady wrote to tell him she | bad been consulting the spirits as to éplendid habitation in the heaven was preparing for him. the meantime she begged le favor her with his autograph! When a deputation from Hungary came to confer with him politics, the grand old patriot much moved, and being unable to say good-bye to them all embraced the spokesman, “Take this kiss to my from the old man who loves her well,” It was wonderful to see how well he bore the grea’ fatigue of receiving the numerons delegations of Hungarians | who visited him last July on their way to the Paris Exhib tion. He began to receive them at 9 in the morning. then lunched and rested til two, when he drove to the Valentino Gardens. Ins semi-circle in front of the Palace of Fine Arts, still left saying: the deputation. In the centre were those who bore the gifts. A finely-worked casket con- taining some earth taken from the Kossuth was born, was presented, a short poem stating this fact being re. cited by the poet of the party. The venerable man was much moved, and hie eves filled with tears. This earth will be placed in his grave when he dies, embossed with gems, that had been 400 vears in his famile. The ladies in Hungary sent a handsome set of anti- que jewelry to Mme. Ruttkay. KOSSUTH'S ORATORY. vast hall, decorated with the Hungar. ian and Italian tricolours, was soon filled. Kossuth, accompanied by Helfy, the Hungarian Deputy, and his eldest son, took his place at the head of | the centre table, just beneath his own | portrait, and a silken Hungarian flag, | presented to him years ago by the women of Hungary. on one side of him and his sister on the other. For a short time due atten. tion was paid by all to the good things placed before them on the banquet table. Then the municipal band struck np Liszt's familiar «Hungarian Rhap- { sody,” and after a panse followed the { overture of Tannhanser, bad the enthusiastie | planse that greeted the dering of Wagner's sided than M. Helfs speech and was followed by Koseyth, Twice he stopped. and twice was he begged ‘ovontinue by his eager coun- trymen. After a short sketeh of the Rearcely ap- masterpiece sab. made a short of his exile, his ideals that were aspirations, and now entertained bv his eonntrymen. Marvellous was it to hear that so orons voice resound through the vast building. Had he spoken Italian 1 should not treme end of the hall, It was grand to | ee the easy, graceful gestures of the orator, «pite of his 88 years. The entha. | siasm excited by his speach was inde. | kerible, and it reached (is greatest | he gth as the band burst forth in the {#traing of the Hungarian March. | When the toast to the King and Turin was proposed, Kossath sgain rose, #peaking in Italian this time, and ex. pressed his greatest thanks to the city that had afforded him hospitality for #0 MANY Veare, “Eljen Torino!” «Eljen Halia!” re. sounded through the hall. At the end of the ceremony the crowd detached the horses from the carriage. and Kos. “uth was drawn home amidst uproar. ous cries of “Eljen Kossuth.” On inquiring the next morning how the General was, we were told that he did not seem too much fatigued: he only complained of his hand aching. And well it might after all the hand-shak- ings it had gone through, a IA AAR Beating a Circus Advertising Agent. The weekly paper on which I Jonened sy Bae wes situated in a town w no cirens going West ever skipped. We used to count on those circus ads. as y as we did on cash, of course, outside of the dozen free tickets which the agent left, and the money pu led the publisher through a tight place more than once. Our ob- ject was, of course, to get as high a rate as possible, and to get a high rate we had to boom the circulation, It held steady st about 450, and for the first three or four years it was suf- ficient to tell an agent that we printed “about a thousand copies.” After that, bowever, there was one chap who gave us trouble. He was an agent for old Dan Rice, and he paralyzed us by asking to sec the pile of paper we had wet down for the outside pages. While he didn't get to see it, he he knocked our regular $40 ad. down to $30, and he had no sooner gone than we began to plan to beat him the next Beason, About the time he was expected we got an extra bundle of paper, fixed it with the landlord of the hotel to notify | and the idea was to wet down | enough to show a full thousand cop- | We were daily expecting a call, when an old tramp priver slouched ies, for a job. We were just getting ready to work off the outside pages, and us he said he was used toa «“ Wash- ington” he was offered a quarter to pull the edition. | was at the and I saw that he knew his business He could “fy” and <point” his sheets with surprising dexterity, and he | brought the lever around with a! “chuck” which made things shake. | In two hours he reached the bottom theet and turned to the publisher with: “Is this a.) ?” “Yes, that’s all.” “1 make the ile four hundred and fifty.” “It’s about four hundred and eigh- | Here's your quarter, and perbaps i roller, | i i | Ee I i ¥ afternoon.” i When afternoon came in walked the | circus agent, looking as Jim Dandy as you please, We took one look at him and fainted. He wa: the identical | the morniug. When we recovered consciousncss he was holding out his | blistered hands and saving: leave six tickets. Sorry for vou, gen- that extra bundle counting liberally of paper on the price. line, and it’s curious how tast the cir- culation of the papers gets below five hundred.” mn ———— Arid Area of the Union. The so-called arid area of the United States, meaning the area which can not used as and without the aid of irrigation, has variously estimated; really it known, but certainly it is vast. It is pretty certain that in the State of Nevada alone there are 4,000,000 acres, now of more productive value be arable litte of Massa adequate popula- tion of 300,000. The reclamation of these barren acres would make the now unhappy condition of Nevada as farm is a territory cess of the chusetts., I: ares el Nor need the cost of such work be | great, for Arizona has reclaimed 300.000 | acres of such land at cost of £3000 . acre of irrigated land yields, at least, as much as four of land moistened by rainfall it becomes plain that the cost is not excessive. Po rhaps not even the | most favored parts of Kansas or 11. land which have been redeemed from the sage-brush area at a cost of 85.000. O00, Colorado has expended between O00 and £12.0 0 (Mus in reser. vo.ra and canals from which many of of its 26,000,000 acres arid lands can The land under vation in New DOO Dx which can be made fertile in Colorado Idaho has about of now irrigated, and more capable of irrigation, tana, which has about 2000 miles of has a total of 50,000,000 of reclamation, 14 000.000 ACres 15,000 16H and Mon. constracied nears alr addy neres capable Thee vast areas will brought under cultivation as the difficulty in obtaining forest os prairie lands in the States tillable by rainfall increases. They are the future gran- aries of the continent, and the world. God Helps Him Who Helps Himself, Postmaster « General Wanamaker | stated in a recent speech s seeSecretary Noble said to me the other day that sitting at the dinner tabe in the hotel one of the waiters said to him: «Massa Noble, couldn't you gib me an’ point. ment as watchman or messenger down there”, In a jocose way the Secretary said to him, “Albert, you know the old proverb, that everything comes to him who waits.” Albert replied, “Well, Massa Noble, Ise becn waiting twenty years and nothing has come to me, nohow.” Perhaps it ison the line of the testimony of tho darky who, at the prayer meeting, in giving testi mony said that he noticed that when he prayed for a turkey for dinner on Sunday he dido’t get i but when he prayed to the Lord to send him after a turkey somehow his prayers were al ways answered. There is a good deal of suggestion at least in the testimony of the colored brother. ALL SORTS, —————— How the Funny Men Are Earning Thelr Money. All A HT CHEW | A racking psin rans through my brain, Asx though my skull wound rend, oir; I sneeze, | choke, my back i» broke ; Can this be influenza? My eyes are red, I'm nearly desd ; wish this cold would mend, sir; With each tresh breeze | madly sneeze; © cursed influenza! ¢ "T' was Russiv's czar who from afar This curse to us did ser d, sir, And on Is grippe our tong. es do slip, jut stick on influenza, Pittsburg Chronicle- Telegraph Patti has one thing in common with the Chicago girl—she can spread her- self over a large area. — Baltimore American, Yonkers has a musical prodigy. He is twelve vears old and hates tle sound of a tin horn.—N. Y. Commer- cial Advertiser, The cable is a great invention. It enabled New York to sneeze as soon as London Milwaukee News, Briggs— Wonder what possessed him iraggs—There was a woman at the bottom of it, I believe.—Terre Haute Express. He-—Why should you be so angry at me for stealing just one little kiss? Bhe—Any self - respecting woman would be angry witha man who kissed her just once.—Dramatic Critic. A ton of limburger cheese was re- at Pame.da Four Corners. Yet manu- facturers complain that they are not making a scent.—Staflord Herald, Mr. Waldo (of Boston)—Will vou have some of the cheese, Miss Breezy? Mise Breezy (a guest from Chic ARO) Oh, thanks awfully, Mr. Waido, 1 selieve you may pass me & small hunk. - Epo bh. People who say rolicemen are never on hand when a fight is going on slander the force. There was a prize fight once and policemen seemed to manage the show.—New Orleans Doctor—+ Ah, ves; 1 see have lung trouble.” Patient (hopeless consumptive)— “Excuse me, doctor, but it strikes me that it's no V—Kearney you ing trouble “How did The per- comes to Wag- opera gets lefi when it ner.” — Chicago Herald, ornamental, but it isn’t much use to the man who has to hustle seventeen hours out of the twenty-four’ for his daily bread, with pie never any nearer than the horrizon. Philadelphia Inquirer Fame may be A good thing can be carried too far. he was about to die asked the doctor for his bill, saving that he did not wish to depart from his life-long rule, “Psy | Inthe Black Maria: Tagrs—«Wot { makes vou sit up #0 hinder stiff an’ un- sociable” Rags, loftly— «Why, I ain't no common bloke, | ain't. Mr. Vangoulderbilt had me srrested for Munsey $ Weekls . A broad hint: Landlord to depart- guest —<I trust 1 may rely upon your recommending my establish- ment?’ Guest—1 dont happen to { have at this moment a mortal enemy {in the world !"—Humoristiche Blaet- fer. ¢ 1 88 YOU go." — Rome Sentinel, beggin : ing “Love is blind.” Nonsense! Just pay a little attention 10 some other woman, and the woman who loves yon will see it even if the transaction oce cus tem miles away, with half a hun- dred brick wa'ls {ntervening.—DBoston Transcript. “Thinketh no Evil.”—A indy is be- ing examined in the police court. Magistrate— Well, madam, one thing at least seems 10 be certain: vour hus- band beat vou.” Witness {apologetic ally)~—+Yes, your honor; but then he always was such an energetic man. ""e Judge, She Conld Not Accept. GOR] Ne “Miss Weehawken will vou honor me with your company to the opera on Miss Weehawken— Din prise party that ni ht. and U'm expected to stay at home." —Mug- sev's Weekly. Society : Little Chick “What do little thing come tre id hen (who has inadvertently hatched a duck’s egg)—“1 can’t help it, my dear. We've got to put up with the creature because she belongs to our set, you know." — New York Weekly, Miss Pretty (in tears and deep dis tress)—Oh, mamma! |—went——to—— the—trunk-room-—and «— what — do — you—think | —fo-fo-found ? Mrs. Pretty—I'm sure I don't know, dear. Surely the moths haven't been at your new seal sacque? #8 Pretty<-No, not so ba—ba-- bad as that—but 8 moth was shat up with my ba-—bathing suit, and he ate it all up.—Life. : Dancing Master (condescendingly) I presume, Mr. Oldboy never ES] eg ne r. I was much to he hau, but have gotto Th ir ° “1 dare say you “For a nu of years I was thor. the holi , and years and years
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers