In Hehool Day*. BtU Mia the scbool-booaa by Urn road, A ragged beggar attuning; Around It still the sumacs grow, Vnd blackberry vines are running. Within the master's desk is seen, Deep-scarred by raps official^ Tlie wsrpiug floor, tho battered seats. The Jackknifo's carrot 1 initial; The charcoal frescoes on the wall; It* door's worn sill, Iwtraying Tho find that, creeping slow In school, Went storming out to playing. Long years age a winter stut Bhoiie over it at setting; I,it up its western window panes, And low oaves' icy fretting. It touehod tho tangled golden curl*, Anil brown eyes full of grieving, tlf ono who still bar steps delayed When all the school were leaving. for near her stood the little lioy Iler childish favor singled; His eap pulled down upon a face Where pride and shame were mingled. Pushing with restless find the snow To right snd loft he lingered ■ As restlessly her tiny hands The bluo-ehecked apron lingered. lie sar ' look ui.inviting, would Itr ask* 1 He'en, forcing a smile and glancing at the dainty table set out wub its sparkling glase and rich old stiver. The latter was a small fortune in it self—are oonltl hare lived upon it for a year; bnt it was an heirloom. Helen iind I must have been in sail want in deed to have parted with a single pioca. "No," I answered, cheerily; "let us hope he will arrivent such an auspicious hour as this." Bnt iny hopes were to l>e blighted. Paring tho ensuing forty-eight hours we had many candidates, hut on ono side or othor eomo obstacle was in the way. Our hearts sank us we reviewed tho situation. Which ono of them would we tolerate to sliaro our homo ? Wo hod almost determined to give it up—to struggle on yet a little longor—as wo sat together in tho twilight, on the evening of the third day, when there came a quick, decided peal to tho boll. Our little maid answered it. A mo ment later a tlrm, manly tread crossed the hall—a tall form stood upon tho threshold of tho room in which wo were. Tho stranger bowed courteously. " May I enter ?'" he said, in a strangely musical voice. I bad been sitting on a cushion at Holon'a feet, resting my head upon her lap. I was conscious that her soft, caressing hand had produced tho wild est disorder among my loosened braids as I sprang np confusedly; but save that a pair of eyes momentarily regarded me from behind darkened spectacles, onr guest devoted all his attention to my sister. and dignified as she ever was, sho bade him be seated. "An elderly gentleman" onr adver tisement called for; wo woro alone, and so felt it would bo more suitable; but was thia man young or old? His voico was young, his step was yonng, bnt tho spectacles ho woro made him appear both old and ngly. Besides, in this half light it was impossible to see. I struck a match and lighted tho lamp. He gave a Hidden start, and tnrncd away his head. "Pardon me," he said, "but I am suf fering from an acute inflammation of the eye; I cannot bear any light." "Pat it out, dear," commanded my sister, and I obeyed, my curiosity all unsatisfied. I stood listening silently as he and Helen talked. He was greatly in need, he said, of a quiet homo. Our advertise ment had strangely attracted him, and, though perhaps not as yot decrepit by age, ho felt he might be safely written down as elderly, especially sinco this painful condition of bis eyes made it for a time impossible for him to do any thing save sit in a darkened room. His voice was in his favor certainly. His manner, too, was that of a man well ltorn, well-bred. I could seo that Helen looked favorably upon him, and was not surprised when the arrange ment was closed between them. Rising to go, he [handed her his card, and written upon it was his bank- j er's address. "You can make any inquiries there, Miss Itar," he said; "and, nnleas I hear j from you to the contrary, I will take j possession on Thursday next." Thursday I and this was Batnrdsy. Only four more days for Helen and mo to be alouo together ! Bearcoly had tho door closed upon him than I burst into bitter tears. "He shall not como 1" I cried. "We will starve first!" "Why, Dsisy, did you not like him. j dear? Of course he shall not come, if : you object; but ho offered us such very liberal terras, and seemed so quiet and nnassuming. I thought you would feel as I did, that we had been roost fortu nate. Let ns wait until morning," ahe added, "before wo decide anything." Her advice proved good. The full glare of the day showed the thing in a more prosaie and sensible light. The very end for which wo had been strug gling was attained, and I had l>een un willing to accept it. My ingratitude deserved to bo punished. Tho next week, in the twilight as before, Douglas Wage arrived. There was a largo bookcase, several boxes of books, a reading lamp, an eaxy-ebair, a varied assortment of smoking parapher nalia, as accompaniments, to giTO us renewed proof of a masculine element I under our roof tree. For two weeks everything worked smoothly. Except for a subtle odor of ! cigar smoke about the halls, and a 1 daintily-prepared tray three times a | day, we could almost fancy no change had taken place in our household. I Mr. Sage asked that for a time his 1 meals might be served in his room, as j his eyes could not aa yet stand the light. It seemed scarcely right to leare him 1 all day alone in that darkened chamber, nnabla to read, to write, or to do sngbt to while away the slow, tedious hours. It was Helen's suggestion that she or ! I occasionally shonld read to him. "At his age and in his condition of I health it really seemed our duty," ahe said. Low it fell to my share to carry out her i-ugg-stion. Ho accepted my suggestion most eagerly, and so it grew a habit that I > honl 1 devote to him two < hours of each day. For the test of tha j time, as I have said, Helen and I might 1 forget his existence. He bad bean with na a month, when, one evening, we reocivod from London a message that my father's filter, an old lady, was very ill, and deal red that ono of na Rbonld come to her at once. I had been Buffering all day with a nervouH headache; therefore, it fell to Helon'alotto go. Tho evening aeemed very long without her, aa I eat alone in onr protty sitting-room. Above my head I could hear our guest walking to and fro. Ho aeemed atrange ly restless to-night Had his reatloaa neaa imparted itself to me ? At 10 o'clock 1 closed the house aud went to my own room, hut wus wakeful and could not sleep, even after I had prepared for bed; o, throwing on a wrapper, after two wakc-fnl hours, 1 sat down to read. In the Timet, which 1 had careleasly picked up, was a long account of a rob bery committed in a house located in j one of tho suburbs, where one of a gang j of thiovea had obtained admittance aa a lodger, thus opening tho way to the others. The whole thing had been moat adroitly done, and tho police were on tho track of tho thieven, who it was sus pected were in hiding and disguise. Disguise! Why did this latter word snddenly brand itself npon my bruin? Why did Douglas Hago's spectacles sud denly loom np before me! Why did I remember how many times I had in stinctively felt the bright eyes which were hidden behind them fixed acorch ingly and scrntinizingly upon me? A cold shudder ran through me. Tho i silver. With what prido had we placed ( tho heaviest and richest nj>on tho tray which served our guest! Neither hud wo nought his references. His pay ments had been made promptly and in advance. Ho himself appeared so quiet and unassuming that it had seemed all unnecessary. But to-morrow—to-mor row I should satisfy myself at once. To-morrow! Ah, was it not already too late? Just beneath my window there sounded a loud, low whistle. II was answered, I could havesworu, from an open window within the house. I sprang to my feet, and stood with fast beating heart, listening to every sound. For ati ne all was still, save my own mad heart throbs. A half-hour must have passed. Mid night bad struck it seemed a century iicfore, when suddenly I heard a grat ing sound, at though a lock was being filed. Why was this necessary, when their confederates conld throw open to them the doors? for I no longer entertained any donbt as to the real statns of onr guest. Everything went to prove it. His close confinement to the honse dur ing the day, the uncertain view wo had oTer obtained of his face, tho voioe of yonth and assumption of old age, the Sj>ecUcles which seemed so effectual a digniao— all, all! But my enlighten ment had come too late. The grating sonnd continued, when suddenly there came to me a desperate courage. I was alone, an nnmarricd girl, hut I would confront those mid night marauders, possibly murderers, and cow them by my very helplessness. I threw open my door and passed swiftly down the hall. Yes, Mr. Sage's door was ajar. His room was empty. I ran on down tho stairs. The dining room was in darknesa ; but, aa I crossed the threshold, a light flared np. Mr. Sage stood beside the table, the ohnox ions glassea gone, a pistol tightly held in his clenched hand. 1 now saw him as he was, a man who conld not hare attained his thirty-fifth —a man both young and singularly handsome, now that one conld sec the bright, flashing eyes. " Miss Margaret—" be began, in s quick, alarmed tone, bat my wrath conld no longer ba repressed. "Coward! traitor I" 1 exclaimed. But at that instant thorn was s sad den noise ss the window was opened, s blinding flash, s deep groan, then my oourage fled and I fainted. When I opened my eyes, Douglas Hago was hold ing me in his arms, anxiously bending over mo. " Poor child," ho mnrmnred, ten derly. " How dare yon I" I cried, wrench ing myself from him; then, catching sight of s policeman in uniform, I added, wildly, "arrest this man!" and again fainted away. A long fever followed. For days I lay unconscious and delirious. They would not lot me talk, even after I bad recovered my mental balance. Fresh flowers and rare fruits filled my room daring the long period of my conva lesce nee. " Helen, yon must not!" I declared. "It is wrong to be so extravagant." Bnt she only smiled, and my luxuries were more plentiful than before. But one day, aa I was sitting, dressed for the first Ume, in a large eaey-ohair, there came a quiet tap at my door. " Come in I" I called. And then 1 thought my delirium had returned, for in Walked my tobber. I turned deadly pale, and felt aa th.mgh I might again disgrace myself by faint ed; bat somshow the flnt tones of bis voioe reassured me. Frcm his lip* I then learned mj mis take. My delirinm had revealed it all to him. "Poor little girl!" he aaid. And then he told mnliow.restleaa and nnable to sloep, ho, too, had heard the unwonted sounds and stolen down stairs, pistol in hand, to discover the canse. My answoring signal, then, was all my excited imagination, for Mr. Sage had been barely in time to aavo the thieves from entering, and to put a bullet through one man's leg and into another's shoulder, to guarantee their capture. A hot blush of i-hamc rose to my cheek as I listened and looked into the face of tho man I had suspected of such viliiany. I understood now from whence came the flowers and fruits, but when I tried to thank him he would not let me. " I cannot be absolved from my sin, Miss Margaret," he said, "for do you know I am not yet snre lmt that I shall turn thief and steal from this house its moat priceless treasure." What could he moan, I wonder? Why did hia words thrill mo with new, sud den happiness? And, doubtless, my reader has guessed; yes, guessed rigbtly. But there is more yet to tell; for ono day, when I had grown quite well and strong again, Helen came to mo with the old sad look gone from the brown oye and a wonderful new light there. "The Eleventh has come home, Daisy," she whispered, ' and I Lavo seen Will. It was all a cruel mistake, dear. He never received my letter, Oh, Daisy! lam so happy I" And then she broke down into glad tears. Well, Will was sadly impatient. He said he had been cheated out of years enough—-he must claim his brido at once ; aud as I could not be left alone to take care of the silver, Douglas said ho must guard it with me—that I had called him a robber and robber be must prove himself. "But, darling," ho added, "yon share the crime ; for it was yon who atolo my heart long ere you had given me tho sweet gift of yours in return." The Career of Han Rice. Dan Rice, who wm the beat known showmsn in the cocntry twenty-tlTe year* ago, ha* exjterienced strange vicissitude* during the lait ten yeara, and baa varied his professional career with occasional experiments in the line of religions exhortation and temjier ance crusading. Wednesday the court of Erie county granted bis wife a di vorce on the ground of desertion, and thns terminated what was in its earlier days a romantic union. In 1845 the showman waa exhibiting in Qirard, Krio county, and his attention was at tracted by a remarkably Ix-autiful child in her nurse's arms. He asked her name, and on snltaequently fixing his residence in Girard, ho kept up a lively interest in the girl, who was the danghler of a leading citizen, deacon in the Presbyterian church and preai dent of the local bank. At that time Dan rolled in wealth and spent his money lavishly, not only in the erection of a magnificent house, but in adorn ing the town. Ho was married to an estimable woman, who bad been on the stage, and about fifteen years after his arrival in Girard she sued for and obtained a di vorce. Shortly afterward Dan carried off his youthful inamorata, much against the wishes of the paternal deacon, who disinherited his dsnghter, but when Dan failed in 1873 was reconciled and took them to his honse. The show nun's extensive property was sacrificed piecemeal in unprofitable ventures, and his life grew irregular. His pro fessions of temperance and religion were looked npoo as advertising schemes, and his wife grew cold and finally declined to see him. It is said bo refnsed to oppose the divorce. Rice began his career as a jockey boy for Henry Clay on his Islington farm, and at one time was considered worth half a million, owning among other property an opera house in New Orleans.— i'ktia• (Mphia Tim*. 1 he Oldest Pensioner. Maryland oan probably claim the oldost pensioner in the United States in the person of Mrs. Elisabeth Cretsor, who resides in the Ninth district of Baltimore conoty, npen the York road. She was 103 years old in last Decern! ber, and ia the widow of John Cretser, of Captain Parry's company of Maryland militia, who served in the year of 1812. Notwithstanding her advanoed age she can walk abont the house and attend to household duties. She has the reoord of ber birth and ber marriage to John Cretser in the year 1801. Her sight and hearing are good, and her mental faenl ties are in an excellent state of preser vation. On a recent Tuesday she was driven to rcoeive ber pension payment at Major Ad iron's office on Calvert street, and he would not give her the trouble to slight; ha carried her check to her at the carriage, and found her thoroughly cheerful and in the hnmor for quite a talk. She is believed to be the oldest pen touor, if not the oldest person in the United States. LAIIIEH' DEPARTMENT. Artvlrr la UlrU. Do not estimate tho worth of a yonng man by his ability to talk aoft nonsense, nor by the length of his mustache. Do not imagine that an extra ribbon tied about the neck can render tho de fect of a sailed collar and untidy dress. If your hands are browned by labor, do not envy the lily llngori of Misa Fuss and Feather*, whose mother works in tho kitchen, while the daugh ter lounges in the parlor. Do not waste your tears on the imag inary sorrows of Alonzo and Melissa, nor (lift trials of the dime novel hero ines. Beck rather to alleviate the woes of the suffering ones of earth. Hulrk-Hiiarl,, far Kail Tat In*. All aorta of knick-knacks add to the dressy effect of fall toilets. Quaint jewelry, cocks' heads, or the entiro bird in real, imitation, or semi-procions jewels, tortoises, parrots and owls, tiny silver mice, paroquets of green enamel perched on a gold stick, with a pearl or diamond at each end, together with bits of gold lace, silk brocade, figured vel vets, gold lace and antique embroidery are introduced into costumes with mar velous effect nowadays. Everything in our mothers' or grandmothers' scrap bag* and wonder chests is unearthed to combine with cashmere, or satin, or moire—things a hundred years old with ribbons of yesterday,and ancient jewels with fresh novelties. Nothing need lie scorned or thrown away.— New York Sun. A Mountain Hrralne. At one of the watering troughs, deep in the mountains, we stopped at a little cabin, and, at the clatter of the mail bag on the loose planking of the low porch, there appeared at tho door a moat remarkable apparition—a woman, short of stature, and of wiry figure that spoke of long endurance. She had a pleasant, sunburnt face, crownod with a shock of hair, flying in a tangled free, dom peculiarly its own. Her dress, of failed calico, retched jaat below her kneaa, and left in plain view a well worn pair of high boots, from the same lot as her husband's. This woman was Mrs. McNulty, and. as th* stage-driver afterward told na, waa, in her way, qnitc a heroine, and much resjiected through the mountains for her courage. The origin of her earliest claim to noto riety dates bark some throe years. In front of her honse, on the atagc road, is one of the most dangerous points of the mountain highway, where the road tnrns sharply round a curve and crosses a narrow and unsteady bridge. Just above ber bona*, late one afternoon, some break had occurred in the harness of the horses attached to the regular stage, which was coming down the mountain with city passengers. As the driver deaeended from hia box to repair the damage, the horses became fright ened and started at breakneck pace down the mountain. The courageous little woman, listening at her cabin door for the evening mail, saw, as the coach dashed in sight, the danger which lay Iwfnre the helpless passengers, and flinging herself before the running horses, by anperbnman strength, brought them, trembling, to a bait. The poor woman, bruised and wound ed from being dragged by the running horses, waa carried faintiog to her bed and lay there for weeks, suffering from hor more than womanly heroism. A purse waa made np among the grateful passengers whose lives she had saved, and her name has grown to be a syno nym through the mountains for bravery. —San Francisco Argonaut. rhiM SWM. Polonaises remain in rogue. Grenada lace ia the noreltj for man tles. Pointed waists laced behind are re rired. Fluffy hair is restored to faror for ladies. King Charlos collars are worn by children. 00l ired pearl jewelry is fashionable for fall drees. The season promises to be one of nnasnal brilliancy. Two yards and a half is a sufficient length for the train of an erening dross this winter. Soarfs of chenille and of black Span ish lace are rery fashionable to wear orer light dresses. The "John" redingote, an English affair resembling a coachman's lirory, is still in groat faror. Puffs of surah instead of frills arc fre quently seen in the neck and at the wrists of imported dresses. There is not mneh chance for variety in dresa; for instance, there are only 200 styles in silk stockings. Monograms, ciphers and initials play a prominent part ia the ornamentation of toilets and their accessories. Straight linen bands are revived for collars; the cuff* to match are square, and fastened with lioked buttons. Large crosses are again very fashion able as pendants, supported by a large lbs* 1 cable chain half renting on the should er*. New walking jackets have the three M ama of the back prolonged until they y meet in a point below the waist, and the skirts are added all aronnd the waiat. Many bonnets of large size are ' trimmed with a wreath of rones or other (lowers within the brim, while feathers, pompons and plush or wide ribbons trim the outside. White evening dresses will still be worn this winter, bat their color will tr be the only touch of simplicity about them, the richest studs being made np in the most elaborate atyles. Rosettes of six short loops are pretty substitutes for bows. They are fastened with silver or gold pins and worn at the throat or at any point on the square or pointed opening at the throat that one prefers. New linen collars are of the severest, simplicity, and ar<- worn with no fasten ing but a small brooca or a slender lace pin. Children's collars, says the Uatar, are bordered with Tnnis lace or have their edges cnt out in squares and filled in with Valenciennes. The object in trimming a poke bon net is to ahow its shape and conse quently the ribbons are set smoothly upon it and feathers carl away from it so as to leave its outline in all its l>eanty. Perhaps you think that it has no beauty, but that is because you do not know. The new way of arranging a flounce is to nse the double box-plait, making it five inches wide on the top, with aide plaits an inch wide, and making the plain spaces so wide that there arc only nine plaits in the whole flounce. These flounces are hemmed by hand, and a three-inch plaiting is sewed under their lower edges, For boya, the court valet costume is the style. It is a square coat fitted in the back, high in the neck, and fastened with small buttons of cut steed down the front to the waist line, where it is slanted off to the back, showing a com jwratively long waistcoat with pockets and cut steel buttons. The plain sleeves are trimmed with aimilar buttons. The American frock for small girls in its latest modification is quite loose, with a collar around the nock, plain in front, plaited or gathered all the way down at the back, while a aash or scarf, c rotted over the plaits a good deal be low the waist line, leaves the frock quite loose, hangs a little ou the right aide, and is tied in a large bjw on the left. Cheviot suits arc made up with long jackets, with skirts provided with two box plaits in the back, bnt otherwise perfectly plain, and a little caps fastened by s tab at the throat. The collar is standing, the enflf a straight piece slanted at one end, which is placed on the outside of the wrist, and the pocket welts are perfectly plain, ltattons and rows of stitching arc the only orna ments, and not too many of either of these are used. A Hard Town. A correspondent of the Chicago Inter i Ocean hawing readied the terminus of : the Northern Pacific railroad thnw deecriliew the new town of Glendive and ita peculiarities : Of coorae Glendive ia a hard town. : There are no school-houses or churches i or aewing aocietien or Sunday-acbools ; aw yet, and ihe saloon*, gambling dena and dance-bouses are plenty, lint all 1 thia lmraan scum will float away an the I track ia pnahed on, and the aubatantial, reapectabjo citizen* will remain to make ; life what it ia at Fargo or Jamestown l or Bismarck, peaceful and agreeable. Lant December the flrat shanty was built here, of loga, and not until June waa a dresaed piece of timber brought into Qlendire. Giro it time. The cemetery of a new town has a fascination that ia almost irresistible. Several years ago a land agent, in ad vertising the attractions of the region in which he had some "town sites" to sell, called attention to the surpassing healthfulneaa of the looality by the unique and somewhat startling an nouncement in large letters: "We had to bang a man to start a graveyard here." The burial places of new towns are often authentic indexes to the character of their population. Glendive ia now about four months old, and in the ceme tery over yonder there are nine mounds all new. At the head of each there is s pine board, but only two or three bear inscriptions. The niuts graves represent the necrology of the place. Five contain men who " died with their boots on "—murdered in b raw la; two are Oiled with suicides—both women. Mag dsleoa of the lowest class, who follow <* the end of the track," There are dozen* of such in this community ; women who have followed " the nad of the track" from Bismarck here, and will go along with it, with the rough men who shovel the grades, by the tie* and spike the mils. Two of them found " the end of the track" at Glendive, and lie in unmarked, soon forgotten graven, with a hereafter not more wretched than their past-