Holidays. TIKI holiest ol ull holidays are thoao Kept by ourselves in silence and apart— Tbe secret anniversaries of the heart, W hen the lull river ol (oeling overflows; The happy days, unclouded to the close, Hie sudden joys that out of darkness start As flames troin ashes; swilt desires, thnt dart I,ike su allows singing down each wind thst blows' White as the gleam of a receding sail, White as a cloud that flints and lades in air, White as the whitest lily on a stream, Those tender memories are; a fairy talo Q4 some or.chanted land, wo know not where, But lovely as a landscape in a dream. —//. W. Lnns/ellotp. PRIMROSE. " You have decided to leave the farm, then, Walter?" " I have," was the firm reply. '" I wtts not born to be a farmer. lam not going to make a slave of mysell here all my life for bare existence, when there is a chance of fame and fortune for me in the city." The girl's fair head drooped, and her stender fingers interlaced themselves nervously as she said: "Only a chance, Walter! Think of what you are willfully throwing away for a vague hope." " Those men who turned their backs upon the mean drudgery of fjirm life and became powers in the land depended upon the same chance," lie insisted. " I am only a woman," site said, with a sad smile, " but I have thought about ' this matter since you talked of going | away. I know that for every one who ! succeeds a thousand go down and are trampled under foot. One success means hundreds I failures. It is a law I of existence." ' You take a gloomy view of it, little j friend," he said, smiling. "It seems to niethat you might find it in your heart to encourage',instead of trying to depress uie." She looked at him again mutely; and as she stood there, witu her mild ! eyes, ;uil of unshed tears, fixed upon him. a momentary struggle tJok place in his heart. He had never been conscious bow much lie loved her until this moment, when they were al>out to part, perhaps | for years. An ...uiost. overwhelming conviction j lieset him that here, in the simple way of life to which he had been born, with the love of this purc-souled, sweet faced girl, he had already found the all-in-all of existence; but be shook it off with an angry effort. "Speak to me. Primrose," be said, impatiently. "At least, advise me." ' No," she said, quietly. " Advice from me would be mockery in the face of your resolution. You will go out into tbe world and work out your ap- j pointed destiny. I can only pray lor your success." " Nothing could aid mc more." he re plied, witl a tremor in his voice. "None so true and steadfast as you, Prim ose. will show you that I am war' of your best thoughts of me. I wti! i rk and conquer. When the bat tle is uvcr I will return and offer its fruits to you- if you will take mc with them, Primrose." A faint flush stole into her cheek, i know you do not think so meanly of tiiO a. to believe that good or evil for tune can niter my feelings for you. I am not deceived, Walter. You leave me with a double love in your heart that which you have for me is divided with your ambition. Hut. remember, if time should show you how poor is the fruit of ambition, that I shall love you ail the more if you come back to tue poor and disheartened." H tnrn'd away to hide his tears; yet. with the perversity of his nature, he ui"t !y bade her farewell. Sh>' recalled him witli a hesitating voice. f* " I have saved this money, Walter." sue said "Will you not take it? I shall feel that I have helped you a ittle." She extended the purse toward him with aw istful look that nearly un nerved bin; again. He took it, and, ex tracting the rnrr.cy it contained, put it back into her hand, while lie hid the empty purse in hia breast. " I will keep that to recall this hour. • Aud this," he continued, taking her Hoout the waist and kisaing her lips, "shall be more valuable to me than all the gold in the world to cheer me in my gloomy days." Turning at a Iwnd in the road to look bark, he saw her standing where he hart li-tt her, the morning sun shining down tpo ti her fair hair and white-robed figure, and then went on with an ache at liis heart that not all his high hopes could smother. Waiter Oak dale's experience in the cty at. the outset was similar to that ol thousands of other adventurers into its fierce vortex. Alone and without friends, the young man soon found his courage oozing out under an uninterrupted series of failures. Heady and enger to work, he found the granting of the bare prlvilege'to labor a favor wliicb be could not procure. I'.very opening seemed to be blocked by hundred as eager as himself. The hardships he had spoken of so bravely were not long in presenting themselves. For a" while hem&naged to procure the ni*ans of the meagerest existence by untuitik&ted toil of brain and body. At this time he often lay awake at night from sheer fatigue, longing for the scent of the pines and new-mown hay upon the old farm, and ready to sacrifice all his hopes for the privilege of standing once more beside Primrose, to feel the pressure of her soft hand. Hut his pride was not yet broken. It was too late to go back now. lie would not admit himself conquered. He had not the courage to confess his mistake and return to the peaceful lot he had so foolishly exiled himself from. And shortly his affairs approached a crisis from which ho was extricated for the moment by finding a letter contain ing a small sum of money waiting for him at the postoflice. There was no writing inclosed, nor any mark by which to identify the sender. Neverthe less something told him that it must be Primrose. He had fallen very low, he thought, when he was forced to receive aid from her. Hut want stared him in the face, and he accepted the offering with a soul full of bitterness. Urtil he had achieved something, he esolved, he would write no more; he would hide himself, even from her, in the deepest mazes of the city. Even a letter from her dear hand must seem like a galling reproach after this. Not many days later it became ap parent to him that ere long but two alternatives would be left to him; either tc crawl home a footsore, dispirited beg gar, and acknowledge himself con quered, or to die of absolute starvation in the streets. Yet a little while lie held out, yielding slowly, stubbornly, to the pressure of blind necessity. One night less than a year from his hopeful parting from Primrose, found him pacing the streets without a roof to cover his head. Homeless, penniless, starving on that bleak winter night, it seemed to ids irenzied mind JUS if heaven and man had conspired against him. There was little enough pride left in him now. Want Jind despair had robbed him of even that fallacious strength. In his dazed thoughts there seemed no better ambition than to lie down in some sheltered corner and yield up his broken spirit. The bright firesides shining through the windows seemed to mock his misery. At one window he SJIW a young wife anxiously awaiting her bus- j band's return. Something in her figure j reminded him of Primrose. What j would she think if she s;iw him now, ; ttcred, ghostiy, freezing? Presently he fell into a species of delirium. He thought lie was on his way ba k to the farm—back to Prim i roie. The frowning rows of houses on ! either hand seemed to stretch away into the smiling, sunlit fields about bis father's house. Yonder was the tree where he had often met Primrose when the day's toil was over. The hard pavement looked like the winding, dusty road he knew so well ay, and could he not smell the alder blossoms ifi the morning air? He laughed aloud as he strode along. He tried to sing an old air that lie i knew, and wept, he thought, for joy. Poor soul! He did not see how the chance wayfarers shrurk bark from him, imagining iiim u dangerous maniac. So lie walked on straight toward the | river-side, where the water ran black and ugiy beneath the docks and piers, j For a moment its sound seemed to recall his scattered senses. He paused and ooked vaguely around him. He saw in the distance a woman's figure hastening toward him, but he took no notice of it. His fancy went wild again, and lie made toward the river. "Hark!" he shouted, "the mill- !ream ! I shall soon be borne!" In another instant he had plunged into the water. He was conscious of an icy thr l.the whirling of flic lights along flic liorc, a shrill cry in a woman s voice, and a heavy plunge into the river beside him. Then, as a slender arm was flung around him and a voice, strangely familiar, spoke some smothered words of endear ment into his dull ear, he became insen sible. A long, dreamy interval seemed to plapse and he awoke to consciousness in the broad light of day. The room in which be lay was bis own chamber at the farm. Was this the reality? Had all the past been merely a hideous dream ? He knew that he was very weak, and that lie must have been very near to death. While he lay confusedly speculating upon his position, the door opened and Primrose entered. She looked sadder and paler than when he had parted witli her a year before; but a bright warm smile broke over her face as sliesaw that he w is awake. "My poor Walter!'slicsaid, kneeling beside him. and covering her face with her hands. " It is p.ll true, then?" whispered he. " Yes," she sobbed. "You have been very sick. We were both very near to death Walter." "You know that I did not intend to close my weakness and failure with a crime," be said, i-arnesfly. " I thought. Primrose, that I was on my way to you ar.d home. I was mad with hunger and hardship." "I know—l know," she sobbed. "I have learned ail the sorrowful story. I had not heard from you for so long that I feared something had befallen you. I came to the city to see you. All day I bad searched for you in vain. It was tbe act of Providence that I saw you at nightfallon your way to the river. Your tattered clothes, 2 our poor, pale face and wild manner told me ail. I hurried alter yon but did not reach yon until jou had fallen into tbe water. I knew I could hold you up if aid came speedily. It did come, Waller, at the last moment, and you were saved." Willi misty cycH he looked down at her. You were willing to sacrifice your dear life for one so worthless as mine," he said, chokingly. "Why did you do it?" "I loved you, Walter," she replied, simply. " For my foolish pride and ambition I have been heavily punished," lie said, solemnly. "Had I but known it, here was the goal at which a nobler man than 1 might have rested thankfully. You have saved my life, Primrose; it is yours, ft shall be the effort of my future to be worthy of your love. Will you trust me?" For answer she merely looked up at him with eyes in which there was neither doubt nor distrust. A Great Speculator's Gratitude. It happened 'wenty years ago, when people had an idea that gratitude was ready to bubble up in the human heart at a moment's notice. A stock specula tor was waiting at the corner of Broad way and Vcsey street for an omnibus. Whether lie feli into a reverie over the graves just over the fence, or was won dering if Lake Shore would advance another peg, mutters not. A runaway horse took the sidewalk just below him, and so deep w:us the speculator's reverie that lie would have been run down and perhaps killed had not a friendly hand clutch"d and dragged him aside. " My friend, you have saved my life!" gasped the rescued man, as he n alized his escape. " Perhaps so, but don't mention it. I'm glad to have been of service to you." " What is your name?" "John Smith." "Well, Mr. Smi.h, I'm a man who can return a favor. My gratitude is more than words can express. What I can I do for you?" "Oli! nothing, I guess." " But I shall. I speculate in stocks, j I shall to morrow buy $ 10,000 worth of Lime Ledge canal stock for you, hold it as your broker, and turn you over the profits for a year. Such heroic conduct as yours must not go unrewarded. Good night, my dear Smith." Tradition has it that one year from that date John Smith sat in his office. A boy appeared and handed Lima letter. He opened it to find that it was from the man whose life he had saved. He also found that the SIO,OOO had lieen invested as promised, hut that Lime j Ledge stock had kept falling a little nil ! the time, until S4OO out of the SIO,OOO had been lost. Inclosed was a statement and a bill for this deficiency, which he was askeel to remit by bearer! Since that date John Smith has had hundreds of chances to save human life on our crowded streets, but he has re fused to extend a hand in each and : every ease. It would makif a poor man of him in less than six months.— Wall Street Newt. Words of Wisdom. A weak mind is like a micro cope which magnifies trifling things but can not receive great ones. How narrow our soul becomes when absorbed in any present good or ill! It is only the thought of the future that makes them great. Spite is a little word, but it represents as strange a jumble of feelings and com pound of discords as any polysyllable in the language. The roses of pleasure seldom last long 1 enough to adorn the brow of him that plucks them, and they arc the only roses which do not retain their sweetness after they have lost their beauty. In the mind of fo1 there are but two women who can be concerned in the life of each man tor his good, his mother and the mother of his children. Out side of these two legitimate loves, away from these two sacred beings, there are only vain agitations, sorrowful and ridiculous illusions. - A Fast Mare. "Stranger," said the stage-driver, " this was how I found out her speed : I was driving alongside the railroad track just as a big load of hotel furni ture stai ted. The freight car wouldn't hold it all, but they managed to squeeze everything in except a long bar-mirror, which tlicy tied to the side of the car. The mare SAW her reflection in the glass and thought it was another horse spurting for the lend You couldn't nave held her back with a steam wind lass. She just laid back her ears and snorted along like a twenty-inch shell. The passengers all began to get excited. They rushed out on the platforms ano began to mnko bets. The conductor stood up on the seat and began to sell pools. The engineer pulled the throttle valve wide open and tore along at ninety-five miles an hour. Soon the marc was abreast of the cowcatcher. At San Bruno we had half a mile the loud. Near the Six-Mile house the train was so much ahead of time that it fell through an open draw and ever lastingly got smashed up—seventy-two killed and 1!)9 wounded. It was pretty rough on the passengers, but then we distanced the train, bet yer life. About a month after I said that marc to her present owner for $BO,O W." We are progressing as a nation toward refinement. The wheelbarrow is now called the unicycle. But it is just as hard to run with a big trunk on it as it was under the old name —Bo*ton Post. CHILDKER'N QUAINT SAYINGS. The London Truth advertised to give u prize of £2 2s. for the quaintest say ing of a child. Several hundred con tributions were sent in and we give a few of t lie most pointed : *• As wo were talking one day about churches and their curious ceremonies, a little boy remarked that he had seen a christening, a funeral, and a wedding, but he had never seen a divorce." Jack (aged four, taking a walk) — What becomes of people when they die? Mamma—'They turn into dust, dear. Jack —What a lot of people there must be on this road, then. Tottie—l wonder why dolls are al ways girls, Tom? Tom—Because boys hate to be made babies of. A child seeing a bill on a telegraph post: "Oh, mamma, look! A message has fallen down." A precocious boy of six years, listening wearily to a long-winded tale related b/t a prosy relative, took advantage of a short pause to say, slyly: "I wish tba story had been brought out in num bers." "Little baby is very ill, Charley; I am afraid he will die." " Well, if he does die, mamma, he won't go to the. bad place." " Why, Charley, how do you know that?" "Oh, I snow he can't, mamma; he's got no teeth to gnash." Little boy, learning his catechism from his mother: Q. What is a man's chief end. A. His head! Girl (yawning over her lessons)—l'm > so tired; I should like to go to sleep, j Boy—l'll tell you what to do, then; g't ; up early to-morrow and have a good sleep before breakfast. A little girl, v eing two love birds bill ing and cooing, was told that they were making love. "Why don"? they marry? ' she asked ; "then they would not make love any more." A fond mother said to her litt.y son. "Tommy, my dear, I am going to triv. ■ you a little companion soon; which would you prefer, a little bvn the route, and ns he approached men's lips began to quiver And women cried, and nfter he passed they turned to each other with wet eyes, shining witli excitement, nnd congratulated each other that they had seen him. The intensity of it all car ried ns away with it, and wc cheered with the rest. From the open windows the ladies literally showered him with flowers, and cried out to him endearing Italian words. A Kentucky Tragedy. Jerry Williams, of Louisville, though a notorious rough, WAS very fon'i of hts young sister, and when he heard ttiat John Watson had talked against her, he sought him out, with the intention of killing him. Those two meg stood just outside a saloon, Jerry reiterating the accusation, and Watson strenuously denying it, when Charley Williams, n brother of Jerry and the girl, staggered up to them. He was quite drunk, and, just as he joined the others, he heard Watson s:v: "Who told you I said she wasn't a good girl?" Chnriey did not know * tint his sister was meant, ) ut in a recklessly loose way he cried: " I said she wasn't, nnd I can prove it. Then e.rrv stabled Lis brother to death. IHPIITII F.KI A. Iti Mode of AtUck, the Mjrmptomt. the I'rerautlon* to he Ttken, Ktr. The following circular about diph theria, issued by the New York board of health, will be found worth reading by the people of any locality: MODE OK ATTACK. Diphtheria is caused by the inocula tion of the air passages with the diph theritic poison, which from this point infects the whole system: the local in flammation is attended by the formation of membrane (exudation* ; the fever and general symptoms are the result of this local infection. HOW IT SKKEADB. Diphtheria is therefore a contagious disease (not perhaps as marked as scar let fever) induced by contact with per sons and objects infected. It may be diffused by the exhalations of the sick, by the air surrounding them, or directly by the exudation, communicated in the act of kissing, coughing, spitting, sneez ing, or by the infected articles used, as toweis, napkins, handkerchiefs, etc. The poison clings with great tenacity to certain prices, rooms and houses, where it may occasion cases after the lapse of months. SYMPTOMS. In ordinary attacks the poison begins to act the moment it lodges upon the tissues; but, like a vaccination, causes but slight sensible off ts in from two to five days; then there is marked pros tration, dryness of throat and pricking pain in swallowing; the throat becomes red and patches of white exudation ap pear, and the glands of the neck sweli. In mild cases symptoms subside on the third or fourth day from their appear ances; if more severe thes" symptoms may IK- prolonged; if unfavorable the fever increases, the local inflammation spreads and exhaustion rapidly follows. PREDISPOSING CONDITIONS. The Person.—Diphtheria attacks by preference children between the ages of one and ten years (the gn it est mortality being in the second, third and fourth year), children of feeble constitution and those weakened by previous sick ness, and those suffering from catarrh, croup ami other forms of throat affec tions. Social Relations.—Alio.asses are liable to diphtheria where it is prevailing, hut those suffer most who live on low. wet grounds; in houses with imperfect drains or surrounded by offensive mat ters. as privies, decaying animal and vegetable refuse; in damp rooms, as cellars; in overcrowded and unventi latrii apartments. Seasons. —Diphtheria is not affected by cither heat or cold, drought or rain. PRECAUTIONS. (a) The Dwelling or Apartment.— Cleanliness in and around the dwelling and pure air in living and sleeping rooms are of the utmost importance where any contagious disease is prevail ing. as cleanliness tends both to prevent and mitigate it. Every kind and source of tilth around and in the house should be thoreiugbly remeived ; cellars and foul a eosshould lie cleaned and disinfected; drains should be put in perfect repair; dirty walls and ceilings sbouid b • iime washed and every occupied room should L>e thoroughly ventilated. Apartments which have been occupied by persons sick with diphtheria should be cleansed with disinfectants, ceilings limc-washed and woodwork painted; the carpets, bed clothing, upholstered furniture, etc., exposed many days to fresh air and the sunlight (ali aitieles which may bo boiled e>r subjected to high degrees of heat should be thus disinfected); such rooms should be exposed to currents of fresh air, for at least one week be fore reoicu nation. (b) When Diphtheria is Prevailing.— No child should be allowed to kiss strange children nor those suffering from sore throat (the disgusting custom of compelling children to kissevcrv visitor is a weli-contrivcd method of propa gating other grave diseases than diph theria). nor should it sleep with nor be confined to rooms occupied by, or use articles as toys taken in the mouth, handkerchiefs, etc., belonging to chil dren having sore throat, croup or catarrh. If the weather is cold the child should bo warmly clad with flan nels. (c) When diphtheria is in the House or in the Family. -The well children should be scrupulously kept apart from the sic k in dry, well- aired rooms, nnd every possible source of infection through the air, by persona', contact witli the sick, and by articles used about tlieni or i i their rooms, should be rigidly guarded. Every attack ol sore throat, cough and catarrh should he at once attended to; the feeble should have invigorating food and treatment. (d) Sick Children.—The sick should be rigidly isolated in well-aired (the air being entirely changed at least hourly), sunlighted rooms, the outflow of airbc iug, as far as possible, through the ex ternal windows by depressing the upper and elevating the .ower sah, or a chimney heated by it fire in an open fire place; ait discharges from the mouth and nose should lie received into ves. sels containing disinfectants, ss solu tions of carbolic acid, or sulphate of zinc; or upon cloths which are imme diately burned, or if not burned, thor oughly boiled, or plaoed under a disin fecting fluid. - A lump of bread about the siae of a billiard bail, tied up in a linen bag and placed in the pot in which greens are boiling, will absorb the gases which oftentimes send such an unplenaant odor to the regiom above. A True Frlenfl. I The Iriftn'l who hoI'D h mirror to toy I. f Ati'l hiding none, ia not afrai'l to Irw | My lanltfl, my Htiill<*t bl'tnihf>i w J Who frinndly warn*, reprove* trie Si I M Although it *tne, ere pardon I dntnan l, He ih my enemy,although he *eem my f-,, From Ult (itrrtfi, HUMOKOI'M. A light affair-A lamp. Venison isplentiful, hut deer . L - t , Back-yards—The trains on dresses. i The pay school ia the place of ™ education. j A poor rider always Las an < • or r ; mane chance. A "squeeze in grain"—Treads • h man's corns. The actor who cannot draw w than a blister. Comets are w(aring as long tra •;. season as usual. What is the spot most dear V - v ? Their fodderlund. It don't take a very last hor. the epizootic. — Luu Ol Oilitcn. Said he: " Let us b<- one." was won.— ltoston Tr 'The edge of the crater lor ft. When n hornet stung him, And he cried with vim: tireat Scott, the eruption's beg As with a woman, so with tli :■< His back hair is his mane troub The prevailing rkw among tb< •. I smiths is an iron one.—/'rce Preys . A strain of music—Tightening p strings of a violin.—.Veto York ,V. v A haif century ago tomr.toc- v. . - called love apple* and considered i • r oris. The girl who huigs her hair < a makes the wife who bin/* her hus band's. The man who mis ed hi-footing ; r ably had his boots stolen. ii . . Transcript. Form of U .'grain to your sh'"• | —Make me another r rorn my last.—rwncA „ irm . n Macbeth r.< ver ffti I ',/ went about crying: '* Ifcn'H, j f.ad—off. 1 ' nee." She tnay drc-s in m! pair of pants; he still has his vest and necktie.— 3/ultlittotrn 7Y