A WINTER HY MN, WINTER relgneth o'er the land, Freezing with its icy breath; ead and bare the tall trees stand 3, All 1s chill and drear as Death, Yet it soameth but a day Since the Summer flowers were here Since they stacked the balmy hay, Since they reaped the golden ear, Sunny days are past and gone; So the years go speeding past; Onward ever, each new one Swifter speeding than the last, Life is walingi 1ife is brief; Death, like Winter, standeth nigh; Each one, like the falling leaf Soon shall fade, and fall, and die. But the sleeping earth shall wake, And the flower shall burst in bloom, And all nature rising, break Glorious from its wintry tomb, 8c, Lord, after slumber blest Comes a bright awakening, And our flesh in hope shall rest Of a never-fading Spring. Amen. . BESSIE'S FOLLY. BY WALTER ¥. JACKSON, A lovely young girl ina dark blue riding habit runs lightly down the shallows steps, and, scarcely touching her escort’s extended hand, springs into the saddle of the magnificent black steed in waiting. “Isn’t he a splendid creature?” she says, patting the proudly arched neck with one gauntleted little hand. “1 don’t believe he is half as vicious as $hey say he is, captain.” “Perhaps not,” replied her compan- fon. Then, glancing at the thorough- bred's lithe limbs, flowing mane and great, fiery eyes, headded: “Since you are determined to ride him, Miss Bes- ale, let us hope so, at least.” With the last words, he swings him- self into the saddle of his own horse, and the two abot ride away, when they are checked by a deep, musi- eal voice saying behind them: “Miss Raymond, you surely intend to ride that brute.” Bessie Raymond's dimpled cheeks crimson. She looks back the speaker, a tall, elegs do not at it figure, standing on the hotel's broad piazza, with brown eyes almost aflame. “You can see for yourself,” 1s her sharp reply. “Did I not tell you last night that I meant to do so?” “But’'—with a slight elevation of his Jark brows—*1 thought you were jest- ing. When you spoke of trusting your- self upon his back, I warned you that his record was a bad one, and advised yon if yon valued your life to keep away from hum.” “Advised!” Bessie's red lip curls. “You may call it advice Dr. Lane, but it was given in the tone of & command. The fact that you are a friend of my father's gives you no right to control my actions, and you need not attempt to assume 1t. Will you kindly remem- ber this in the future?” The physician smiles—a smile that makes the girl secretly wither. “I have no desire to control your ~actions,” he says tranqully. “It is frue that your father, when he learned I was to spend a few weeks in this placewhere you are summering, beg- ged me to look after your welfare as might an elder brother or an old family friend; and this 1 have tried to do; thongh I never yet presumed to do more than advise you. As you find even {hat distasteful, howover, I beg to assure that henceforth I will annoy youn no more.”’ “1s there a tone of mockery in his low, deep voice? It seems to the girl hat a laughing demon 1s looking at her «out of his sphinx-like gray eyes. Her own grow darker, and her little teeth close on lips that have now be- come ashen. “Thank yon,” smiling palely. ‘You ean be generous, it seems Sut” — turning to her companion ‘‘we waste time. Let us go.” “Une moment,” interposes the phy- sician. He comes down the steps and appeals to the man. “Harrell,” he says. “youn know something of that brute. Can yom not dissuade Miss #taymond from riding hm?” The young officer shrugs his ders hopelessly. “1 have done my best, my good sir, and failed. You need have no fears, however. Though Black Hawk is an ugly brute, I flatter myself that I can control him. Miss Bessie is in no real «danger while under my charge, you may rest assured.” “Is she not?” says the other, with his cool, slow smile. Then, bowing to Bessie, who ncoords iim buta slight inclination of Ther haughty little head, he slowly turns AWRY. A little later, as the two horses go eantering down the graveled drive and out into the winding mountain road, Bessie litts her angry dark eyes to her cavalier's blonde face, saying pas- sionately: “What a bear he is! 1lnsome way he is always making one feel so small does he do it? What—what makes him so hateful?” FL Harrell laughs. ‘““You appear to like him even less than I do, Miss Bessie. Surely, you have n better reason for it than that which appears on the surface.” The girl's cheeks grow scarlet, “He is a ps ig icy, masterful sort of Ma creature,’ she says, Shughty as Eblis and selfwilled as a Czar, ow «ould any one fancy such a man as that?” wil” indeed,” asserts Captain Har- He smiles a little as ho speaks. He believes that wounded self esteem is at the bottom of Bessie's dislike of Dr. Lane. The slavish horag shounl- eo that most men pay to the little beauty is a bom- ago in which the physician has had no part. He is not one of the humble, sighing kind. Whatever he may se- aretly feel, be has always trea the Joung lady with a cool, courteous in- ifference that she has found qalling 1n the extreme. “He is hateful,” she cries, her oyes fall of angry tears— “odious.” “1 am truly glad you think so,” the captain says. ‘lor do you know’ — leaning toward her with anasir of eager leading 1 bad begun to fear that it was different with you-—that—that, in fact, you eared for him." lently and giving the reins a quick jerk. Black Hawk shies and throws up his maned crest with a snort. “I!” she repeats, in a choked voice. “You must be"? “Take care!” cries the captain. My God!” Ie makes a desperate clutch at the steed’s bridle, but he is too late. With a rear and a plunge, Black Hawk takes the bit between his teeth, and, with flattened ears and glaring eyes, hurls himself up the road like a living thun- derbolt. An ejaculation of horror breaks from the officer's lips. It is echoed shriek from Bessie. The bridle having been torn from her grasp, she is cling- ing with both hands to Black Hawk's streaming mane, while she looks back with dilating eyes, crying aflright- edly: “Oh, help me, captain! Save me!” Harrell stares after her helplessly. He is for the time incapable either ot speech or action. Then his eyes in- stinetively turn to the right where a bridle path leaves the road, cutting through a dense growth of oak and hickory. string, reaches the curving road about a quarter of a mile farther on, shorten- ing the distance to that point nearly a third. Urgiug his horse forward with whip and heel, Harrel dashes into it, muttering through colorless lips: “If I fail to reach there in time to stop him, may Heaven have mercy her! She will eertalnly be thrown when he goes plunging down the steep de 3 PY scent beyond. The thought turns him eold. leans forward, straining his eves the path along which his Lors ng. On- on they rush But stop! Her @ is the too late K 3 TH fs on his right, 1 Hisshrinking gaze i steed rushing #1 OR. y maddened sends him reeli gasping. The sight of avalan brute foree charging straight to- ward him has well-nizh parslyzed him. Not even for her can he rash upon the certain death that here seems to await him. A faint cry breaks from Bessie's lips. Thongh he has failed her she beholds a second figure, that has suddenly ap- peared upon the scene, leaping from the back of a horse near the roadside, and boundiag into the way before her. As be wheels there, confronting the blazing-eyed, foam-flecked black demon dashing toward him, she sces the pale granite-like face of Dr. Lane. With that smile upon his lips that she knows so well, and a glint as of steel in his deep gray eyes, he springs straight at Black Hawk's froth-drip- ping jaws, clutching the bit with hands of iron. A short but furious struggle follows, the black rearing and plunging, and striving, but vainly, to strike down the physician with histerrible hoofs. While the result is still in doubt, the doctor more thap onco being lifted from his feet, ana swung to and fro like a pendu- lum, Bessie manages to slip from the saddle to the ground. “Loose ” # that y é Ol him! she cries, her voice quivering with the anguish of fear. “Loose him for Heaven's sake! He will kill you, doetor!” A low, fierce laugh and a savage jerk at the bit is Dr. Lane's only reply. At the same moment, however, Black Hawk ceases to struggle, and stands be- fore him with a bowed head, meek and trembling. “There!” says the victor, passing his hand soothingly over the shining black muzzle. ‘I think the evil spirit is ex- orcised for the time.” “Doctor,” says a sweet and humble voice beside him. He looks round. A very white little Bessie, her face enframed with a tangle of soft brown curls, her lovely eyes wide and brimming, stands with clasped hands looking up at him. “Weli?” he smiles, She draws a long deep breath, mouth quivering wistfully. “Why did you follow us?” ters. “Why did you risk for me?” At this the rock like calm is broken. A burning glow sweeps into his cheeks, while his eyes grow tender and dazzling. “Because” —in tones whose passion- ate sweetness makes her heart leap—<1 love you, little one.” Her cheeks are no longer pale. The lilies give place to mantling roses. “You love me?’ she murmurs, dreamy-voiced. ‘You do, really?” “Better than life,” is the fervent gos onse, “More than tongue can tell. The dark lashes sink over her half- dazed eyes, , if I had known!” she utters tremulously, ‘I thought you despised me, believing me nothing but a haman butterfly; and it made me so hard and bitter against yon; becanse—because—- Oh!” covering her tingling cheeks with both hands, “I mustn't tell you that. But won't you—do, please—try to fore vo jhe for--for treating you so “It onl oe be kind to me through all future,” he says, with grave tenderness, She gives him a glance so lovely in its Jromise that an answer in words seoms quite unnecessary. leant, ! such is the view that Captain Harrell, | coming up ot this juncture, takes of the matter, her fal- life tho your short his stammer apol and is vory kind and HOB Apo Op the sore, It will bo many a day before he , forgets the result of that morning ride | with Bessie, now Mrs, Dr. Lane, among the Carclinian mountains, It is well to bo eminent, but to feel , eminent is 0 misfortame, <ul nw EXCUSES. i Have you ever thought what very | dangerous things are excuses? They ‘are 80 much more convenient to give | than real reasons, and wo unconseious- i ly lose sight of the fact that they easily lead to misrepresentation. If a plansi- ble exonse will cover the true motives of an action that we would rather con- | ceal, we have little compunection in giv- | ing it, and we would be startled some- | times if we realized how nearly it bor- ders on deliberate untruth, It is bet- ter to be silent and leave the reasons for a course of conduct to the inference of others, than to try to palliate judg- ment by offering well-sonnding excusos | we know to be fallacies. inherent desire to please, more readily excuses herself than does a man—who, with that fine indifference characteris- | tie of our “lords of creation,” and per- haps, based on the power they feel is theirs by right of creation, disdains to make use of such inuendoes! How true this may be, I do not know; but, I am very sure, both men and women | are too much given to making state- { ments as to “why aud wherefore,” that j are very wide of the mark. They do {it in all innocence every day; they say, { “I do so and so for such and sucha ! reason.” Itis a good excuse,” but { when they consider the matter closely, { they find they do and so’ from { very different cavses. They do not ' mean to falsifv, but it is done. In “polite society,” the excuses given fare per- “RO | for refusing invitations, eto. { well understood that the real reasons are not ex wl: it generally the y society that the ap- iw. What sounds 18 | case in fashional pearance 18 ever i i looks wel ! d | paper still came to hi | was sent by the publish renewal, As he had first received the paper throngh the lady friend, he wrote to her asking her to order it stopped for him, as “*he had so many other pe- riodicals to read, he did not have time to give this one any attention!" His amiable friend, recognizing the situation, and to give him a small les- son in careful use of excuses, forthwith ordered the paper to be sent to some other address, and communicated with the quondam subscriber to the effect that it had been a present to him, but if not read by him, of course it was useless to send it longer, ete. Imagine his chagrin? To be sure, the period- ical was quite acceptable as a gif, but not wishipg to invest his money that way, he had given what seemed a *‘good excuse’ for its discontinuance. If the circumstances had not been just as they were, he would doubtless never have reproached himself for claiming ss a reason, that which was only a cover to the true one. Would it not have been better for him to have retained the ex- couse? Those of us who are so in the habit of making excuses on all occasions, would find, by testing the matter, that we could very easily dispense with them. When you cannot give the real reason, remain resolutely silent; and even if you can give the real reason, it is generally better taste, unless called directly to secount, not to do so. The best excuses in the world are, in fact, tiresome things. Bome letter writers are lavish in their use, and it is an un- conscionable bore to have to wade through two or three pages of excuses before coming to ri of interest, If circumstances were such that yon found it an impossibility to reply to | your friend's letter in the time limited ! by polite custom, give your reasons in as few words as posuble and dismiss the snbject. It is the height of rade- { ness, nnless under nnusual circum | stances, to ignore a letter for months, { and then answer by a superfluity of ex- cuses for the remissness, Your friend { knows that you could have sent some scknowledgement, if vou had consider- ed it a matter of safficient importance, 80 the excuses are a tiresome redun- { daney, the omission of which would | make a more readable letter, { ‘I haven't time” is an exouse that has been harped upon until it is utter- ly meaningless; it is tho rarest instance that it is given with truth. So many women say, “I haven't time to read,” “I haven't time to write letters,” “I haven't time to do this nor the other thing." Itis almost invariably a pre. tense, and simply means, ‘there are other things I would rather do than read or write letters, eto.” We are very prone to give our time to what most pleases us. A girl will sew and do fancy work until her form is stooping, and her complexion sallow, and say, “'I haven't time to walk and take out-door exer. cise.” She bas the time—each day has twenty-four hours for her, as well ns anyone else—but she prefers devoting her timo to dress and such vanities, so she does it. It is all a matter of pref- erence, and I am sorry to say, the ma. jority of women choose the 1m- rtant things, and have not “time” reserve their health and oultivate their minds. The woman who will per- sistly do this, under the cover of flimsy exouses, scoms of a mild, but most injurious form of lunacy, It is bard to know how to reach them, they are utterly incorzigibla and exasporat- ing. Eleanor k says it does no to call them **fools,” for she has it I believe we would be amazed if we knew how very few excuses we oonld got on with, I have come to con- wider Jo matter I have noted that al. most in AN OXONS0 MA: ns De ana ; above dunt aa tha do not let us form the habit of “1 haven't time!” The most proves: WA 5 A the woman who devotes her soul snd | body to frivolities, and, when question- ed as to why she doesn’t do something else, sweetly murmurs, ‘1 haven't time!” 1 cannot express what I think of her in polite English; but it recalls to my mind the words of the poet— “0, frailty thy name is woman!" Herex C, Hovuvroy, in Woman's Work. PERSONAL. Mans, Jonx B, Govan is in a critical condition from spinal trouble and is almost helpless, Tae Princess of Wales has given no countenance to the high-puffed sleeves. Her Royal Highness and her daughters have never worn them. Justin H. McCanruy is just thirty years old. He has published eleven »ouks and seven plays. He is tall and thin, with a very small head. He has traveled much in Persia, and has an intimate acquaintance with the litera- ture of that country. Russern Sacre is quoted a ying: *I never lent a dollar which was returned | to me unless logan ly secured. I never | backed a note I didn’t have to pay, and I never recommended a man for a situ- ation who didn't turn out to be as mean ns he could. I now let other men ran the philanthrophy business, Mus, Wiirreraw Rem, American Minister to the wife of the Republic of diplomate. Her house is mmptuons, her hospitality, both official and per sonal, unbounded, her dressing costly aud in perfect taste, her manners sim- ple, kindly and elegant, and her Fre irreproach able nel Queex Evrraseri o en better rinps ¢ upon a peasant's nd died of diphthe ria, ing breath in the Queen's arms Carmen Sylva 1s especially fi wearing the preity Boumanian peasant | GAraw- sha 1 ‘ iE Las il i aa i Apumens of Wilkie Collins will be interested in learning thet a neat, una- dorned marble cross has been erected over the novelist's remains, in the northern part of Kensal Green Ceme- tery. On the base of the memorial, underneath the name and dategf birth and decease, appear the words nthor of The Woman in White and other Words of Fiction.” ‘The grave is only separated by a few yards from Sydney Smith's tomb, which, like that of Leigh Hunt, also situated in the north side of the grounds, gives evidence of faithfal tending. On the monument of the latter the full name of the poet is in- scribed-—James Henry Leigh Hunt- with the unconventional and unique epitaph: ‘“Write me as one that loves his fellow-men, A writer, H. C. Adams Ph. D., in The Chawtauquan for January gives a graphic description of “How the Peo- ple are Counted” and says that women seem £0 be better adapted than men to the nimble work of managing the machines used in the Census Office. He notes from the Superintendent of the nd as follows “The average number counted by the women clerks was 9,500 families or 47,950 persons, and by men clerks 6,- O87 families or 32,985 persons. ‘Thus it will be seen that the women averaged nearly ome-hall more than the men. tis also worth noting that of the forty-three who counted more than 10,000, thirty- eight were women and only five men From an article on “What it Means to be a Btenogragpher” in the Busi- ness Woman's Journal for December we copy the following “A young lady who goes iulo an office with the intention of learning the business and making herself neces. sary to her employers can always find plenty to do. In many offices where there is not much stenographic work, the stenographer is expected to do other office work, such as sending out circulars, registering letters, ete.: and the one who does such work cheerfully and is always ready to turn her hand to anything, is the clerk who will be re. tained, when, oh account of hard times or for any other reason, the office foree is eut down. “I am nequainted with a young lady, a good stenographer, who lost a very desirable position for the simple reason that she was not willing to do anything except her stenographic work. Talk. ing to her employers in regard to her Sischarge, thoy said: ‘We have no fault to find with Miss As shorthand work. She is the best stenographer we have ever had in our office, t ihe trouble is that she is not willing to do anything else. When we ask her to direct envelopes or fold circulars, or to to answer the telephone, she either refuses or does it so ingly as to make us feel very Hpleasat, If we had enough shorthand work to kee her busy all the time we would not ask her to do these but she has three or four hours of leisure every day and we consider her time belongs to us while she is in the office.’ “In this manner the employer was correct in his views and the young lady made a foarful mistake in not being ao- commodating.” i —-— The Star or Bethlehem. The so-called star of Bethlehem is again visible this year, its seventh 0 since the of Christ. It comes once in threo bundred and filteen Joars, site and is of wondrous bril- or three woeks, then it wanes, and rs after seventeen months, 1t will be a sixth star added to the five fixed stars in Cassiopeia, while it aw Tun manner of expression is derived ad ER AY A Bright Young Woman, There i= nu bright young woman now crossing the ocean on a Cunarder who is having lots of fun out of a voyage she has fairly A ago, earned. year her father the propriety of letting her go over this summer with a party of friends to see the exposition and im- prove her French in Paris. opportunities, declined on the thread- bare plea that he couldn't afford it. SE, FURNITURE FASHIONS. Common camp chairs are made very ornamental by and finishing the edge with tassels, covering with plas tiny silk | A beautiful toilet set is of pale Line | piush, with a painted border of apple | blossoms, and a finish of around it. antique lace In parlor decorations every window | should have lace drapery to start with, Whether lace or heavy draperies is used lace is essential. unexpected aimiability. «Will 4 summer trip toward it if I earn the rest myself? “Yes, I'll do readily. “Will asked the daughter, that,” said her father M give itto me vou now ” Her father looked a little suspicions “Yes, I’li vou'll j Finally he replied : if and fern i 4 i: vy ry give it to vou now, womise not fo spend it » for a fresh BUpPPIY next sum rain was made and the long ming woman took the cheek al is CIY on Had ong and for some time she had cherisl scheme of having a furnace and doing her own firing, i perhaps ber friends too, for friendship’s sake The CARITY « Al she iroceeded riski father advanced. scheme now i to $ wg in it the ig i capital her » But £1 she had confi- dence enough in ber own mechanical and business capabilities not to feel that jt was a very great risk. She em- who built for little cellar of her fathers brown ployed a reliable dealer, her a com and convenient kiln in the front. with her own work pact BLO She experimented thor- before she When she found she gkill she let her would fire their POET OWN friends know that she she was The girls she knew came at first because it to her bit of porcelain and not ran the risk of sending it. She did if it were her own, care- thom at rates It long before she had patrons. china foi the same had formerly paid herself not WHS 80 easy to run over with a frail each piece as fully and lovingly, knowing from ex- perience the startling changes produced on the delicate coloring by a degree 100 much of hie at. Her friends brought their friends. soon she could wait to light the fur. nace till she had enough china for a She made from 85 to $10 She paid furnace, for Europe had money enough for all her lay’s work. svery day that she worked, the expenses of running the and when she was ready to start expenses, including a new Paris gown and an extra check of $100 besides from her proud father, who talks of taking her into his business when she “ames back. — —_— a A New Invention. A firm in Chicago engaged in the manufacture of tin cans and japauned ware has patented an invention which, competent judges say, will revolution. izo the tin and stoel industries of the world. Patents have been secured in the leading countries of the world. It is a process by which molten lead may be rolled into any desired shape, thus saving all intermediate processes. The molten metal is passed between | rollers, which is chilled as it passes, | the rollers being kept cool by a stream of water which passes through them. Another advantage is that iron and steel so rolled will be much more even | closer in texture than that made by present methods, being free from air holes which result from the inter- mediate processes. i I 5A in dx months of sun so live that months of rain shall still be bappy. Fowruxes are wade by taking oppor- Sunitios; is made by making hom. Ir young men will not believe in themselves no man or woman oan be- lieve in them. ing about death: It it doesn’t know jrom the right, and always subordinate oY table | is of plush, with a border of wide-flow- ered ribbon, with the design outlined with gold tinsel cord, the edge finished {| with gold fringe. A handsome cover for a round A present caprice is to cut off the teorners of rooms with curtains screens, Madras, sateen or silk and wool fabrics may be used in the manv facture of these devices, ushions of plain plush are much used. They may be finished with Bagnes urs {11s MEANY Y 1 of rd and tassels at the cor- i ners, or simply tied four to the chair at the corners with wide ribbon bows. Laght carpets are t now used for In figures anyt soft of hing that will Hal x and Yects are i hs may bord: Fs of it or silk, either all over or as a and add greatly to the beauty the table. If there be a sideboard has its embroidered scarf of some wash material. Scarfs for draping easels, ture of | cloth, which is a ganzy material of ex- pic frames, mirrors, etc., are bolting quisite texture, made of the strongest silk threads. Silk embroidery is pretty for the decoration, t very ut painting is far handsomer. In chamber draperies the coin spot is used most. Coin spots vary in size from that of a ten cent coin 10 twenty- five cents, fifty cents and They are trimmed with either otton ball fringe or tassel fringe, and come four inches below the sill of the ied back with cotton or r piece of white ribbon. dollar. a white window, Many chambers are furnished with A Frenchman only person in the world who handle cotton to perfection. can be dyed in the sun so perfectly that they will not fade by any amount of exposure to the sun. In furnishing a nice chamber the entire furniture, bedspread, bolster and all, are covered with the saine material. witgn fabrics. is the can Goods Decorated wood baskets for a parlor or bedroom are very pretty. Procure a common splint market basket about twenty and the with metallic or lustra paints, asing two shades, and alternating theo Line with light blue cambric or any color to match outside, and tie the bows of broad satin ribbon to the handle at each sid~ inches wide, cover glats colors on the slats —————— Plucky Maude Andrews, Maude Annulet Andrews iz a plucky Georgia woman, who has made her way into a prominent place in journ- alism. She wasborn in a small vil- lage and ber education was desultory. The desire to write, however, burned strong in her from earliest girlhood, and when finally she sent her first verses to “Life” and «“Puck,”and both papers accepted the MSS. she deter. mined to start for New York and enter the largest field in America. dence for the Atlanta Constitution.” but the remuneration from these let. ters alone was not sufficient compen. sation, and failing to obtain work here, she was obliged to return to Georgia. She went to the office of the “Constitution” aud asked bravely but modestly for a place on the staf. She was 80 quiet and courageous that she got what she asked for and she is now one of the best known of women journ- aliste. The trial article which she submitted to Mr. Grady, the editor, was the MS, of the poendof the Jester, which was afterward accepted by the “Century.” ‘Tas shortest way wo many thi do nly one thin: tone. ng A ooversmExT of tie le would not bo afraid of the “upper tem”
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers