DIRGE FOR A SOLDIER, To One of the most popular poems by Hon. George FH. Baker op death is announc- ed, is his “Dirge for a Soldier” written for General Phil Kearney] : Close his eyes: his work is done! What to him is friend or focman, Rise of moon or set of sun, Hand of man, or kiss of woman? Lay him low, lay him low In the clover or the snow! What cares he? he cannot know; Lay him low. As man may, he fought his fight, Proved his truth by his endeavor; tt him gleep in solemn nigkl Sleep forever and forever, Lay him low, lay him low In the clover or the snow! What cares he? he cannot pow; Lay him low. Fold him in his country’s stars, Roll the drum and fire the volley! What to him are all our wars, What, but death bemocking folly! Lay him low, lay him low In the clover or the snow! What cares he! he cannot know; Lay him low. — ar osaesm— BABBETTE. She put a shawl over her brown curls «nd slipped out unobserved into the shadowy night. Oze would have thought her a mere shild judging from her slight figure and general appearance; but tonight Babbette was eighteen. They knew it inthe great house, but what cared they for the birthday melt- ing into blank night without even a word or token of affection? ne strangers, Miss Wilton,” said Max as they walked slowly along under the gloomy cedars. ‘Father has written me so much about you that I was anxious and glad to get home that I might make your acquaintance person- ally.” «Jt isn't moch to know me,” re- joined Babbetta, wearily. “I am such a cipher, amd such a miserable, no ac- sount cipher, too.” «Please don't say such sad things,” he said, in a pained way: ‘try to see the silver lining for yourself; vou find it for others. Let us be friends and eheer cue another up to grand, good purposes in life.” «J shall be glad,” whispered Bab- bette, clinging to his arm in the aark ness. «Have vou heard any news?” asked Uncle Wilton at dinner one day some weeks later. *‘No, paps,” chorused his daughters. “Pray tell us.” “Well,” said he, ‘the rector's son has fallen heir to a mint of money. By the death of a relative he becomes sole heir to his property, worth about a and a bitterness settled over the white ing twilight. Cousins Kate and Clara were in the Irawing room entertaining friends, and the soft light came through the drawn curtains of filmy lace with a dreamy radiance spiting well the slow, sleepy music of the guitar some one was playing inside. The girl panzed to look in at the cozy enjoyment hungrily. How she loved music; but then she could not sing. No; the musical vein of the Wiltons bad failed to throb into her life for some reason. The big tears hesitating on the dark lashes, p.ashed down on the crimeon s choking sensation in her throat. Out across there, though, wherg the lights twinkle through the tore red a dear old friend, the gray haired rec- tor. How many happy hours she had “Ob, my! and he is handsome and a collegiate, too,” simpered Kate, who was fast approaching the old maid line. “We must invite him to o#®: down the river,” put in Clara. warrant he hand.es the oars and. besides, a millionaire at the party “I'll nicely, thing; we shall be the envy of our versation; she grew very quiet. The family knew nothing of secret, and went on discussing the the that the girl left her dinner untouched as she crept away to her room to think it all over. Her cousins had never recognized their young neighbor before, but now, because he was fortunate in a financial sense thes to inveigle him into companionship and—matrimony if they cou'd. That evening up and d cedars, alone; and the glooiny the occasion. But she was not alone; no, some one “I am so glad to find said the voice that al- her, ‘‘for 1 have glad were reads Babbette walked slowly under the darkening wanted to be alone shadows were fitting Ow she te,” you, Babbet ways thrilled study with its modest ingrain carpet row, green shutters opening out on a closed on the night, was a paradise to the girl. Doubtless the low rocker in its snug sorner waited her coming to-night as often before, and they wouldn't mis her in there where the soft, sweet mu- tic mellowed the air and floated out on ker desolate night. “] have heard,” answered the girl, wearily. ‘You are a wealthy gentle- ’ “Won't you congratulate me?" he “Aren't you glad for Max?” “Why should I congratulate?’ and her white face was turned to him in the gloaming. lifts you up +o far away from me. “Away from you? Why, Babbette, doa’t you know me better than that? " you will; it gives me liberty to tell way, had she chosen to have remained indoors. Her place must be among those in the dreary ways of life! But the rector, kind oid man, sompanionable and a friend. would step in and have another of those long, serious talks she delighted in. Poor man! He, too, was alone now, with none but the housekeeper to look after him. His wife slept over there in the churchyard, and hi» son— welll Babbette didn't seeing him. He was away to college somewhere, Was Can’t you guess, Babbette—love.” Then he did love her? She opened her lips; but the answer would not { i | be at home shortly. of cowrse, Babbette argued, she wouldn't feel as free to occupy the willow rocker at the rectory, for, Well, she was now 18 and really a child no more, for all Aunt Marie kept ber in ankle digeses and long, childish suris. Tapping at After his coming, the study door she was ss usual, who drew the familiar rocker turned around for the talk he knew was expected to be forthcoming. “And to-night I am 18,” said Bab- bette, letting the shawl drop from her shoulders with a weary gesture, “and what have 1 accomplished, or where is the prospective niche for Babbette Wilton?” A step sounded in the hall. The rector looked up. “It's my son Max,” he explained. ¢‘He came home yester- day; I didn’t tell you, did 1? Max!” salling, ‘“here is our little friend whom [ have spoken of so often; come in and see her.” “Oh, O my!” and Babbette looked distressed as she rose quickly to go. “Stay, please!” said the old man, pleadingly. «I do so want you and Max to be friends, too.” At this moment the son came in, and, seeing Babbette, came forward for an introduction. “I am happy to meet you, Miss Wilton,” he said, in a clear, woot tone that thrilled her with earnestness, ‘Father has wri 1, and your for ones,” the pent, “I have thought sometimes that you was | mistaken ?” she whispered; “how could I wt: “No.” “f don’t know ; sure I don’t he said, with = I am o help it,” low, happy laugh. “Then you will be my you, Babbette ” “Oh, Max!” “Why not, est?” “J cannot ap; wife, won't you love me, dear- ir well in society and and charity's child.” the reasons why you awler's wife?” asked hands while he waited “Are those her answer. ‘1 believe they are,” she said faintly. “1 brush them aside, then, as I should cobwebs,” he said, drawing her “Will you marry me, little “Yes, Max,” and the Mbnely, friend- less orphan crept into the arms of ti millionaire: he whom she thought shut away by a wall of gold. At the boating party Max was the lion of the hour; but he disgusted Kate Wilton very much by devoting his at- tention to little Babbette, «Heo doesn't know she is as poor as a church mouse, in spite of her good looks,” she aimost sneered to her companion. “Why do you ignore the pick of om social circle and take up with that girl asked Uncle Wilton, pompously, as he noticed his own daughter's wiles prove futile in ensnaring the young man. “Because, Uncle Wilton, she is my wife,” answered Max, calmly. If a thunderbolt had at that moment rent the very heavens the surprise and astonishment could not have been greater. “Do you mean to say that you are in earnest?” gasped Uncle Wilton, recov- ering from his helpless wonderment, “| was never more in earnest, uncle ind 1 married this Grace Stroot Chapel, a fow + while my father lergyman. Will 4, uncie?=kEx- ne or Jabhette wore i Cigiang i yr : Tian Nobility. ings of Portland again ada inners on the turf ear, his 0.000. } to his 0 in the Portland's unprecedente dolin the win re. Both the Deke er and eredit, or two FIO O0 5 sn EE, et yl WARY post season, while the Duke of Boan- fort and Lord Rosebery, on the eon. vary, falled to socare a single race. TRAPPISTS IN KENTUCKY. @EAUTIFUL SURROUNDINGS WW THEIR CONVENTS. Fwo Monasteries of the Order in the United States. The cloister of Trappists to-day ex- isting in Kentucky and known as the “Abbey of Gethsemane,” owes its direct origin to the Abbey of Da Meill- eraye of the Departments Loire In- feriure,” in France, says the St. Louis Post-Dispa’'ch. The abbot of the lat- ter had made an arrangement with the French Government to lay the found- ation for a convent of their Order on property situated on the Island Mar- tinique, and donoted to them by Louis Philippe. After the downfall of his regime the original plan was abandon- ed in favor of a colony in the United States, which was accomplished in 1848, The Trappists possess but two mon- asteries in the United States—the above mentioned, which is the oldest, and one near Dubuque, Ia., a bxanch of the Abbey of Ireland. The dominions of the Abbey part of which is ills, which are found the settlements of farmers. is reached by each side by a cedar hedge and shaded by a row of magnificent English elms, all of which were grown from one original tree, Wandering through this delightful but now and then by the soft rusting twitter of the birds nestling in their branches, one reaches the porter’s lodge, walls, which thus separate two worids from each other. Emerging from the covered walk of the lodgegthere spreads before the en- chanted &ve a delicious corner of | scape-gardening—avepues and walks bordered by cedar hedges and side by two stone wis heaviest footfall is lost unheard. Beau- tiful pattern-beds and luxuriant green. swards contrast harmoniously with the deep shadows thrown by solemn-look- Near the end of the grounds we find rabbits, enjoying their playful sports surrounded by this solemnity. The Abbey of Gethsemene is a self- institution, in which well man is maintained, the sick nursed and the dead buried. The daily pecupadions are quite varied, resem pling those in one of our modern fac- The Trappist Order subjects its members to all the cloistral vows sternal and extreme poverty, chastity, ndustry, silence, separation, penitence No is allowed to Trappist monk tender and sympathetic this life visit the human heart, he is obliged to suppress, death of his nearest relative is Forgotten mission; all I — The American Ea‘le. the regular army of the United States with a representation in metal of the | bald eagle, which is the emblem of our republic. The staffs of regimental standards now terminate with a pike. I'he eagle has already done duty in his | upon the standards of other nathons, and particularly upon those of Rome and Frane The American eagle, however, is of a different variety tle eagles of France and the one Roman Republic. It is an variety the “bald.” or white-headed eagle. The ordinary name of the bird is a misnomer. It Is not bald, but a mply white-headed, the feathers on the head and neck of adult specimens being suowy white The honor of first naming this bird | as the emblem of the United S ates b loags to John 8. Au jubon, tle a ur al. st, whose name will be forever as | sociate | with ~ur bird-1.f6e. Hecalled the bald ecagie the ¢Washinrton eagle,” because, he said, “Wash no | ton was brave, ts the eage | lL: ke | it, tos Le wis the terr.w of his ene. | mies, an: his fame, «xten ing £ om poe to pol , resembles the majestic soaring« cf the mightiest of the festh- If America has reason to ud ¢f her Washing on, has proud of he: great eagle.” 1d eagle, with wings extended | or “displaye . proper,” | pr BO be As 1 tha TH Lie He dic A wou had bare I'¢ le who t, BwWouping down ux n fg from this i bird the fh that it bas | { esuehit., Bat Ie, on ocean | of tho water | fin Frnt trio Lie ea oul hy The cagl:, is, moreover, a bird of dignity as well as of bravery and beauty, and its strong sttachment to its home certainly :ecqammends itas an American emblem. ——————— I ———— True Courtesy. It i« poss'ble to learn salutary les sons from all kinds of people, in all y. ars ago, invi ed to a Chinese recep- ion over the shop of Chi Lung, in san Francisco, and owned that, as a school for good manne, she should no’ object to suc sa experience of- tener, The seat on the right ‘hand side of the en rance farthest from the door is To this was 1 cone ducted, mounted in state on a high baceed chair and leit to my own de vices, to be..ave as well as | knew how ~and +o fell into There came to me 8 sedate-looking servant carrying a huge box divided into com partments crowded with and sEwWeoetmea's, What Jid I do? ed out a half-dozen the post of honor. 1 t APY disgrace nuts Looked a: it, pick- & from goodies on the FOOD FOR A suv. WHAT IT TAKES TO FEED THE ANIMALS. Jurious Facts About a bondon Zoologl cal Garden. The best all ound article in the Quarterly, says the Pall Mall Gazette, | is decidedly the iccount of the con- | s.mpiion of food at the Zoo. Mr. | Bartle t, the superin endent of our | famous gardens, has supplied some in- | tecesting facts. ‘It is rather insiruct- | ive,” says the writer, “to consider that ne of the daily items consists of pounds of fresh whiting, whie vumber of meal worms required the birds and other counted in many thousands daily. 100 t'e for | creatures is The cost of feeding an elephant in captivity | in England diflers considerably from | the incurred in India, where it | sometimes lives entirely on grass, earning its own food wanders about in a watery marsh its favorite pasture.” The some cost COurse PE at full da ly | ber, who, to my amazement took | The box moved o: another, an each one helped himself to a solita sweet, while I gazed with h my own pile. I lost appetite, and watched the ror a Dad the fli of my celestial hosts take tye But no, he gathered a handfu 01 the table beside him. I breathed again, the more freely as 1 saw one and all follow hs Afterward I learned that had en EXampie ken lim he would io. ence to om han 1 had done remain bad one of tuem torn a chi from limb with Lis fingers, nave done reater § question had the courage BRITE if utting to fall foul : violent manner for the "1% Of IY dinner in the sake of § Kix si al case, tis Washington's Boston Visit, Tue hundredth anniversary of Wah ington's visit to Boston, recently cele Old South he fact that tw that ooca sion be gave the citizens evidence of his punctuslity. An hour was appoin‘ed for his re- ¢ ption by a committee of Bostonians at the line between Roxbury and Bos- Punctually at the moment Wash- ington was there, and by some mis two hours Church, re- os on the A raw northeast wind was blowing, and Washington's exposure gave him a The crowd was Isrge, that the aflection was called “the Wash- ing.on Influenza.” On his departure for Portsmouth be he should depart at eight o'clock in the morning. At the moment he left the house, and as the escort was not ready, he went without They followed and overtook him, Another incident of trated Washington's character. Hancock, who Niate, took the position representative of the Commonweslth, he shiouid be first visited dent of the United States refused to respect this the visit illus John the was Governor of that as the sv the Presi Ww wishington Jf oF eX HID n gen the at his he would unless he not saw him lodgings. On the day after Washing- ock went in his coach Washington was. that an attack of Lafad fourth tons arrival Hane As he had given out he appeared wrapped in red baize, and was carried by his servants into the honse, ss a Women’s Clubs In New York. It has been discovered that in addi. tigi to Sorosis—which has now coe an oid story snd somewhat prosy the women of New York have about twenty other full grown clubs, not all of which have a local habitation, but all of which boast a name and a raison ile ire, FAVE A N w % ork letter to the Philadelphia Record. Among these are Wednesday Afternoon Club, composed be. and blue-stocking fashionable la- dies who go to church on Sunday and superfinous gossip; the Kindly Club, which is composed of women take a pledge never fo speak an word of any one, and which not is ful: the Alexandra Club, which has a louse of ite own, and admits 1m wline visitors, and of which men never Ww w ¥3 AY 1at the ones gentle 1 ww dane er of adic is PLR, The real glont is the man who over comes himself, calculated by Mr. Bartlett at 150 | pounds altogether in weight, consisting | of hav and Ww, roots, Elephants f ud of \ KIT its, but the Zoo « lephants are Wil sir rice, bread biscuit, are irid Lawsonites. ‘ food of fo the be hipne tamus ‘ hipy potamua : ! ‘ imsted 2 0) about in weijgnt, and « {0 pounds a onsists chiefly of I'he daily pro- weighs about 5 , Erass and roots, vender of a girafle pond It is rathe animal, and prefers cl und oats, and green for The and tige nine pounds of me su ally horseflesh, iA is, a dainty feeding chaft, 1 summer wer, 1 wd 8 obtain eig t an in ht o1 15091 y y MOns i IK at per diem is u As thers stant supply of carca ses of be bought at a cheap rate lowing figures rep. esent the sums paid in 1887 for the principal that onstituted the food of the agimals: Horsefl (rontflesh......cc00 AYE Bid. reescecssess Dend fis Insects Fruits ar ; Potatoes and roots REE. . Hems ors... FOOD FOR THOUGHT. Not to ove is not to live, To wor 1s the great law of nature, If you live to die, you will die to live. The present moment is a powerful deity, In pursuit of rest men often tire them- selves, The evening of life brings with it its own lamps, Take things as they are and make the best of them, Human happiniss is a dreadful bard thing to defing If you would have a man forget his grief, call him a fool, The devil has such along tail that we are always stepping on it, Be brief in thy discourse, for what is prolix cannot be pleasing. A vacavt mind is a standing offer to the devil of free house room He grieves more than is necessary who grieves before It Is necessary. The fairest faces are those which we have never too closely scanned, He is a philosopher who cannot wrought up to a fretting point, Everywhere endeavor to be useful and everywhere you are at home, be When a person 'n the swin 1s cramped by lack of funds he sinks quickly, The race isu’t always to the s wift, Sometimas iL is to the pool-sellers, Use, do not abuse: neither abstinenre nor excess ever renders man hb wppy. A man is not only known by the com- pany he keeps, but by the cigars he gives away, It is affirmed that fish have the power of influencing one another by sounds and action. The man who is continually ** the bottie’’ seldom make a hit thing e se, There is a great deal of bad luck lying around loo+e In this world, but it Is pub- a - a If your though's leave God it will not be long before your hands will be raised ugainst Him, Oe of the hardest (things todo Is to be a good listener, Those who are stone deaf succeed the best, Paren's should be careful in chatising their children and not switch them on to the wrong track In a world like this, where there are at least five false things to one that ie There are a few articles whi classed ss miscellaneous, while the | gardens themselves supply several | small items, such as the surplus guineas | pigs or the young sparrows, which are | batched in nests that the old birds im- | pudently build on the premises. There | sparrow that was iis den. As to the jackais and foxes, they make very short work with any bird that has tres- passed in their cages, while the mon- keys are still more excited when they catch a victim, and, with the inherent eity of their they usual miserable bird by pulling ts feathers before they bite its bead « wi a race, iv ff. lis A Wingless Bird, ! The Zoological Society of Lotsdon | ave ju Acq! vx in addition the ch have been already exhibited for irds shon d be These b for pire woimens of two wh some months, altractive to the PeRSOIS In the difficult Fortunately for themselves have no doubt flourished ed on account of this very habit unfortunately for the pul they sare nocturnal-—the rarity of their appearance will therefore add to their nterest when they are seen. In the | visitor piace, catch peveral first they ar & glimpse for somewhat f they m Jtipl —byiit, 10 and Mic, among ““wingless’' birds for the very devoted to a impr ved away altogether: but if the | allow it to hurry over the ground at a | very respectable rate, and to defend iteelf by vigorous Kicks, The apteryx | only occurs in New Zealand, and it has | which seems very characteristic of its Antipodean habits. lostead of de- | positing its eggs in a nest and then i 4 buries its eggs and then digs a hole’ nnderneath it, in which it remains, and thus sits not upon, but ander the nest. a Ee —— An Elephant’s Wonderful Sagacity. The stories illustrating the sagacity sf the elephant are innumerable; but | fow are more remarkable than the fol- | lowing one, recorded by 8 writer in a Bombay, India, paper upon the author. ity of an artillery officer, who wae a, i ss of the incident: The batter | ing train going to the sing of ingapatam had to cross the » sf a river that r witne © Lave gone over hent, wlich was reviving the predicament in an wie, inst withont runing from its kecper, Hilted ny ol with its tru Rept it suspended till the carriage had passed gtniioned Link Eid ug sued Sas ANLaY, 3 ¥ + Bi 4 A wise man is never so much slone as when he 18 1n a crowd, and never so One of the best things & man can say when he has reasonabledoubts asto what he ought to say is to say nothing. Every time & man laughs heartily, be takes a kink out >f the chain that binds him to life, and thus lengthens it. People who have always been wealthy are simple enough in their ma ners. The It is said that it takes three genera- tions to make a gentleman, The re- cipe falls when the third generation is a girl. The average man can be philosophical on two occasions-—-when he is in liquog and when his neighbor is in trouble. One of the surest signs of an intelli gent civilization is to see among the masses a becoming respect for the aged. The man who says he is going to ges there, and don’t you forget it, makes more noise about it than the man who is actually there, There is nothing like a sick bed for repentance. A man becomes so virtu- ous that he often repents of sins he never committed, He who won't believe anything be cannot undersand is not as wise asa mule, for they will kick at a thing they don’t expect to reach. When the wife of a real generous man asks him for 20 cents to pay for a new mop, he hands her a quarter and says: “keep the change.” Yet be who means nobleness, though clouds, By examining the tongue of a patient, body; and philosophers the disease of the There are men who seem to be born on purpose to step into everything; they can’t set a common rat-trap with out getting caught in it. The hardest thing for a man to do is to own that he has made a mistake in it is an Impeachment of his weak side—his mind, Do not expect commercial payment for the real beneflis you may render Doing good is the great way of enriching character, The essence of true nobility is neglect of self. Let the thought of self pass in, and the bealy of great action 1s gone A noble purpose never leaves a man languid and inert. Its inspiration cone tinuea; 1t quickens the desires and streng hens the power for new effurts, Painful it isto be misunderstood and undervalued by those we love. But this too, in our life, must we learn to bear without a murmur, fort 18a tale The cares, which are the keye of rich. #0 heavily at the rieh man's girdle that they clog him with weary days and restioss nights, when others sleep quietly. The consummation of madness is ta do what at the time of doing it, we jn. tend to be atiarwards sorry for if: tre deliberate and inteational msking of work for repentance. All pleasure must ba bought at the prics of paie. The difference bet wean false pleasure and true is just this: For tho trae, the price 18 paid before you rrjoy iis for the Inlse, after you enjoy it.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers