Divided. I know tho dream is over, I kuow yon cannot be In all the time to come the same That yoil have boon to mo; Tho color still is in tho chock, Tho luster in tho eye - But, ah I we two have parted hands Good-bye 1 Not that I love you less, For, ohl my heart ia aoro Not that the lips that breathe yonr namo Are loss fond than of yore; But tho unresting feet of Time Have traveled on so fast, And soul from soul has grown away At last. 1 think I just stood atill- For I had found my all But jour rich lifo swept ever on Doyond my weak recall; And now, although tho voice rings sweet, And clear tho dear eyes shine, I know no port of all their wealth Is mine. Wnat bridge can sail Love build Across this gulf of Change, Who needs must work with broken hopes And fancies new ami strange ? Alas, it is too late - Tho light fali down the sky, The hands slip slowly each from each Good-bye! A STRANGE STORY. I have a strange, almost incrodiblo, story to tell of an experience of my own one fearful night in the woods. Imagi nation had nothing to do with it, for I am a backwood's daughter, accustomed to the wild sounds of tho forest, tho lone'inoss, and all that is terrifying to a novice. My father was a good man, serving Ood after his own simple fashion, seeing Him and loving Him in His works. I have heard him hold forth on the provi dent ways of tho beaver : " Why! the little critter'd starve in the cold season if it hain't used its littl,- Hat tail for bnildin' its house, and then tillin' it with food in time! " I have hoard him tell of the caribou: " Look at that, too," he would say, "and at the moose. Now, the caribou has to travel often a matter of twenty miles for his dinner? for he's a dainty 'un, and only eats the long gray moose there, sinks right in. His dinner is close at hand. He could live for months on an acre lot." Ho could speak the loon, and its adaption in every way to its watery home—always ending such talk with : "All God's works are *pon honor; there's no half-way with Him." I was the only one left of ten children. My father, when mourning over and missing the others, would never com plain hut only say : " They're better off. Why, if wo can't trust the little chil dren, that don't know the meaning if sin, there ain't any chance for the men I" And so he lived his quiet life— his heart beating close to nature's heart, and his soul unconsciously seeking and finding nature's God. My mother must have been beautiful in her youth. She was a lorctte Cana dicnne, and her bright French spirits carried her gavly over many hard trials in her life of frequent deprivation. One great overshadowing sorrow of her life was the unaccountable disappearance of her little year-old daughter, hor only beautiful child -the one in her own image, whom from the first she loved with a peculiar tenderness. The child had been left alone in her little birch-l>ark crib for a short half bonr, while mother was hnsy at the spring, a mile from home, in the midst of the woods. I, a little six-y*ar-old, was off in a canoe with my father, as a treat for having Imen ©socially good the day before. Father and I had a splendid time—we slways did when we were away together—and. our canoe full of trout, we were coining gayly home, toward evening, when a cold chill fell on onr happiness, and my child's heart felt a strsuge thrill as I read a sudden anxiety in my father's face, whose every change I knew. His qniok ear had ©aught the sound of mother's voice, ami, after a while. I. too, oould hear a bo]teless moan, a dreadful, heart-broken sound. We found mother kneeling on the floor, Iter hand leaning on the empty crib, and moaning as one that could not be comforted. The liahy was gone. How or wherej#e could not tell— w never knew. Weeks were spent in searching for her, snd at length, to savo mother's reason, father forced her to leave the pretty log cabin in the woods by the lake, where this last sorrow hsd come upon her, and wo went to Montreal. * There we lived quietly for years dnr ing the winter-time. The nnns of the great convent of the Gray Histors took charge of my education. Mother and I had neat little roomM in the French quarter, while father went off moose hunting for weary months; but the summer-time we always spent with him. He would choose lovely spot* for our summer encampments, but never on i-M , - tho sito i)f the log cabin, deserted after the baby's loss, until tho summer of my nineteenth year. Then a great She could not exist alone. I struggled hand to hand, and sick of heart, against what 1 felt to be an inex orable fate, and, on the afternoon of the eighth day I found myself alone and almost despairing, save for the happiness of the two I had loved best in the world. The sunset came, as I Fat by the lake side, Hooding my desolated world with a heavenly glory, like a sigu from them to me of their new-found joy. Tho stars had come ont l>efore I ven tured to return to the worse than de serted house. I could not hop.- for help from any neighbor until I sought it out myself the next day, and 1 had to look forward to a night, how horrible. I did not foresee, or I could not have endured it. What followed I could scarcely credit myself, if I did not boar on my hand a tangible proof in a well-defined scar; and, even now. I could not bear to write of that night's experience, had no* my children's laughter and my loving husband's care long since banished all nnnatural gloom from my life. While I had been sitting alone on the lake shore, toward the evening, I had heard a distant shot ; it scarcely roused me. A sportsman, I thought, had wan dered from his encampment on the op posite shore, and seen some game in our wildwoods, killed it, and his canon had long sinco carried him away. In tho gathering darkness I groped my way back through tho familiar little path, and reached my own door. I alone should pass the threshold in the future ; their feet were still ; the busy feet that had toiled forme, followed me, - , ( and had been ever near inc. 1 I was to go on my rugged path alone ! Heart sick and overcome, I stopped at the door, and, leaning my head against it, j nobbed in uncontrollable despair. Tired out a length, I had grown quiet, and was about to lift the latch, when a faint moan as of an animal in pain, and close to me, startled me ; then a death-like silence reigned. I knew I had been mistaken. I felt that I must forget myself and help the poor 'creature in distress. It is verv good for strength to know that some one needs you to be strong. No longer hesitating I hurried into the little cabin, struck a light, and went in the direction whence the moan had reached my ears. I thought of the shot I had heard. It j was quite possible a poor, wounded deer was lying in the bushes. Yes, I could now see its skin—unmistakably a fawn spotted dun color. It lay quite ' still perhaps that moan hod been its dying gasp t—and so I came quite close to it, leaned over, and, paralyzed with liorror, saw my mother's face, only young and very beautiful as she must have looked when a girl. Deathly pale, passible, she lay—matted hair all about her face, and clothed in doe-skin. Just then she stirred; it was not death. All wonder ceased within me, every feeling fled before tbo thought that this l>eing, whatever, whoever she was, might be saved to live. I dragged her the few steps into the 1 hottse, laid her on my hemlock boughs, j untouched by me since the sickness i visited us. Then I found a wdund in tho poor creature's side and bound it up, ' and, in the quiet, now again I felt startled at soeing my mother's image, young and fair, liefore me, and, when at length her great eyes opened, I felt it must lie that sister lost to mo till now, and sent lmck in this sad hour to take my mother's place. I leaned forward, in an access of tenderness, to welcome her, when a look of fright, an animal like, wild terror, took possession of her face, and a low sort of snarl broke from her human lips. The start she gave caused a fresh flow of blood; dimness |*ssed over her eyes. Again I stanched the would, and pre pared nourishment in case sha waked. Too bnsied in these ways for further speculation, only with a strange weight at my heart and weariness of body, suddenly I felt the gleam of oyos watch ing me. Much strange eyes 1 No linman expression about them; a Htoalthlv look in them now. Gently OH I could I ap proached her aide. She trembled and tried to hide her hood when I offored her my carefully-prepared food. I moved away and studiously avoided any appearance of watching her. Yet I Was intensely conscious of her every move ment. 1 could see her eyeing with a wretched famished look a raw venison steak that had hoen forgotten, and lay on the table close beside her. Stealthily, like a beast of prey, her fecblo hand stole toward it, atul in n moment she had torn it in pieces and devoured it. Horror tilled my heart. Could this creature bo human ? I sat still in the corner, where, myself unseen, 1 could watch and restrain her if necessary, and soon—weakness overcoming her—after this last effort she lay tossing in un easy sleep. Oh! I was so weary and BO very lonely! The dreadful night was almost at an end. I went to her side, threw myself on the hod beside her and put my arms about her neek. Again her beautiful eyes opened full in my face. I fixed them with my own. I caressed her, called her by the endearing names of old. I besought her to be gentle and to love me. I told her she was my own, the only creature left for mo to love and care for? One short second it seemed as if a soul looked out of her glorious, dear eyes, then, with a groan as if she gave the struggle over, and, with that low, fearful growl again, she fastened her white teeth in my hand. Shrieking with pain I fainted. When ; I came to myself ilaan was (drugging in at the window; leaf shadows Hick | orcd on tho floor. Fearful pain in my hand ronsed rno at length, and a con ! snnting thirst drove me into the woods i toward the spring to allay it. I struggled through the un lerhrush, and there, close by the water, discerned a confused mass. There lay my poor sister, dead, her head pillowed on a wildcat of the woods, shot by the same hand, probably, that had wouuded her | fatally. ______________ A Soared Mali, " I think, Ye t," said Senator Sutler, j the ether day, " that the tory you tell ' about that fellow in I'irhmond who I went to havo his picture taken, is about tho best you can get off. Let's | havo it," "Well," said the humorous little sen | ator from Missouri, "wo had a man by tho name of Peter Wilkes, who was ' elected to the Confederate congress from the Springfield (Mo.) district, and he i ccn afflicted for years, and of wuich several of his ancestors hud died. llerr Kohlrausch, in Heiman's Father ZeUunt/, proposes not to extract tannin by boiling powdered astringents, but by reducing them to fragments of tho size of a nut, ami treating them in it series of dialyzers, the bottom of which is formed of animal membranes, or of parchment paper, and permits the free passage of air. A remedy for tho objections to the introduction to the electric light in doors is proposed by Mr. t.'oad in the shape of a battery for tho generation of electricity. This battery is worked bv a new combination of chemical ingro | dients not yet published, and tho cur I rent produci .1 is transmitted directly by I wires to tho lamps. The resulting tlame is stated to be absolutely color -1 leas and of great steadiness and perma nence. At a recent trial a twenty-cell imttery was charged and ut intervals of I thirty hours between each exhibition a j faultless light of nearly candles was ] yielded for al>ont a month without re ; plenishing. Expensive Drugs. There are two mail men in Milwaukee. One is a bahl-headed man and tlu other is a druggist. The bald man l< 11 ,i doctor that his hair was falling out, and asked hiiu if lie didn't know of ; something that would stop it. The doctor said lie would fix him, so he i wrote a prescription, which was as fol lows : Chloride <>r wlium, lo*. Aqua I'lirs, . - - ho*. HliaXe ui i| *nd nil> on th< evcrv morn ing. Tho bald man went to a druggist and ! had the prescription ptit up, paying a , dollar and seventeen cents for it. He | asked the druggist if it wasn't a little l high, but felt ashamed when the drug gist asked him if he knew how much aqua pura cost a gallon. He said he didn't, but *up]*>ftay out large sums; in buying or selling would prefer to leave a margin rather than reduce the qnantity of any sort to the exact dimen sions of tbe measure specified, and in giving would prefer to give with free hand and withont too strict a calcula tion as to the exact amount. Hmall ears, on the contrary, dcaire to know the particulars of a story as well as the main facts; take delight often in exaro ing. handling or constrncting tiny spec imens of workmanship; are disposed to be exact with respect to inches and ounces in buying or selling, to the ex tent, at least, of knowing the exact □umber over or nnder tha stated meas ure given or received. People with snob ears would in most oaves prefer a retail to a wholesale bosineaa —Pkr*n ologfoal Journal. $ LADIEH' DEPARTMENT. C'o-oprrsll *r> lliiM,|,rplis. hour poor Philadelphia housewives joined in the purchase of tt whole barrel of flour, and found it considerably cheaper than their previous practice of buying a few pounds st a time. They extended the plan to other supplies, and then to additional members. Next they hired a room and a woman to superin tend the purchases and distribution. Fifty families now get nil their grocer ies through this association at the low est wholesale prices, " M r," and •• The old custom was to call young women M MS and older women Mrs., tho ago of thirty being about the dividing line, regardless of whether they were married or not. Elizabeth A. Kingsley writes to the \\'f a New York young lady who died the ether day coit h< r father $.1,000. Yinnie R*III lloiic intend* to pre sent her buet of General Custer to hi* widow. In Pari* false ear* ar<- a new manu facture for the toilet. Ladies who tbink liter have ugly ears place the*e artistic production* under luxuriant tresses of false hair, fasten tliem to the natural ear*, ami wear them for show. The heroine of a recent novel is quite versatile in the crying business. Ii one place the author says "hereyes were suffused with salt tears," while in another he tells n* that " her tears flowed fresh." Mrs. Secretary Maine has added an important amendment to the code of etiquette adopted when John CJnincy Adams was secretary of state, ami hence forth the wires of cabinet officers will hare their regular reception days, but will not return the visits then paid them. 'I he visitation of every one who saw fit to call at the house of a sec rotary and leave a card has grown to be a heavy burden. L)r, Harding says: The assertion that American women are feebler than for eign women is known to be false by any who have employed foreigners as domestics. The foreign "helps" are puffed np by watery vegetables and coarse bread and look strong; but they have headaches, bad teeth, sore eyes, deafness and weak digestion, and they are tired out by little tasks which their mistresses can do easily and cheerfully. Fanhiss fanrlM. Hbirred waists arc much worn Bo* plaited waist* am revived. Almond color is very fashionable. Foil (raises of la-e are mnsh worn. Marguerite mitts will again be worn. Jaliots of la<*e grow longer and fnller. Small figured satinets will be ranch worn The coal arnttle shape i* the favorite poke lionnet. (.Bridegrooms and their "beat men" do not wear gloves. Glass mosaic is coming in nse for wall decoration. Spanish lace comet in pale rose color for bonnets. Louisine skirts are worn with cash mere overdresses Hash ribbons a foot wide are used on block lace dresses. Suits at summer flannel are trimmed witli braid arranged in rowa. Turkish and Altmnian embroidery are applied Upon net for dress trimming*. Pink or yellow linings are put in the brown straw bonnets woni with brown au it*. Dreaa good* with one-half plain and the other striped come for overakirts. Hhort aleevcH are bordered with bead lace and bead fringe for evening dreaa. llibbon phutcd and dotted with Iwada is worn about the neck around the lace. Madras mualin wrought in colors ia Ito be worn over sateen for summer I d reason. A new apron front ia four strips of satin pointed at the end and laced to gether. j Sleeves rnnat be slightly gathered I into the armhole* in order to be really I fashionable. The dotted Swiss muslin remains the 1 favorite dress of ceremony for young ' girl*. The favorite shape for fans is the flat screen of Japanese origin and covered I with Japan< se figures. Many milliners use full lace trim ! rnings of flowers of large size for poke r Mother Hubbard bonnets. l'ordera in cambric of solid colors are sewed upon white cheese cloth cur tains intended for seaside houses. Watered silk striped in colore that do not break the watered figure is a nov elty. It is used for overdresses. White muslins with embroidery hem stiching and dots woven in the pattern arc sold for cool aumm< r gowns. Japanese straw hat with broad brims faced with bright color, and trimmed with bayadere strijied with surah, aill be a favorite hat for country w<-ar. Slipper* for evening wear are cut exceedingly low, and the stockings to , be worn with them are embroidered in proportion to the expected display. The lu st makes of black cloth top shrew are at present much worn. French heel* are still seen upon evening slip, p'-rs and fancy shoes, but on all other occasions lower heels are the vogue. Many of the new bonnet* formed entirely of shaded roses are shrouded with a filmy covering of black or white beaded gauze, which gives a delicate, toning effect to the bright flowers, making them doubly becoming to the wearer. A Curl oil* lAjwrimfnt. A c< >rr<-|>ondent, writing from New York, r> lat*-s the following curious 1 l>< rimcnt. wliicb was tried in hi- pres ence liv a small part; of gf-ntlomen ca-ually twtnbln] at the house of a friend Th- heaviest man in the room, who happened to IK* our host, the Rev. Mr , was put lying down on three chairs, his hea.l on one and his l*odj anunds to each, not an easy weight for a woman to lift, and no one but an athlete would at tempt to lift forty pounds with two fin ; gore. This et|K'riinent may be tried at ( any time when five or six |*ereons are | present, and will afford food for rcfloc ] tion. Word* and Ideas. After listening with perfect amarc ment for a full hour to a very talkative j person, and wondering whether or not such garrulousneas ia or is not a result of the superabundance of matter, we lighted upon this, by l>ean Swift: The common ftnency of speech in many men, and most women, is owing to a scarcity of matter and a scarcity of words; for whoever is a master of language and has a mind full of ideas will be apt in speaking to hesitate upon the choice of ••oth; whereas common speakers hare only one set of words to clothe them in, and these are always ready at the mouth; so people oome faster out of a church when it ia almost empty than , when a crowd ia at the door. " What," said a teacher, "is that ia. vincible power that prevents the wicked man from sleeping Mid causes him to toss about U|on his pillow, and what should be do to enjoy that peace which pas-cOi all understanding?" "Hew up the hole in tbo mosquito-bar," was the prompt answer from the bad boy at tha foot of the claas. iifcLh.i'iir