The Fall of the Rain. The summer rain, tho gentle summer rain I O'er the meadows, o'er the grasses of the plain, Falleth everywhere. It pours 'mid the chestnuts of the lane, O'er tho homlocks, the pine trees and the beech, And tho orchards of tho apple and the poach. Its soft, refreshing nectar it distills O'er the pasturos, o'er tho hollows of tho hills, Tho trickling, shrunken current of tho brook— A thread of silver gushing in its nook— With a rushing flood it fills. Ah 1 tho soft descending rainfall of tho spring I Now it makes the forost melodies to ring. ' tilow the birds with sudden rapture sing, While the swelling buds and blooms Their verdant wreaths, their rosy garlands tlirow O or the trees, till the woodlands are aglow With blossoms red as wiue, whito as snow, Delicious with perfumes. The crystal autumn rain, how it pours 1 Thro' the foliage, o'er the grassy, forest floors Like a torrent it descends. It is color'd with tho glories of tho year With scarlet leaves and yellow leaflets sere, And when with the rivulet it blends, All its crystal, limpid purity is lost, Where in woods tho curronts turbulent are tost. Tho winter rain, wintor rain, how it sweeps 1 How it sweeps o'er tho billowy, snowy heaps ! How it freezes as it falls in the blast, "Till a shield adamantino hard is cast Round the trees, like a burnished coat of mail, Iron-hard, form'd of ice-sleet and tho haiL Then bright jewels are form'd on each stem, Creamy pearls, and the pure-diamond gem, Tho topaz, tho ruby crimson-bright, That twinkle and flash in tho rosy light. —lsaac McLellan. A LITTLE WILLFUL, " Engaged!" said Mrs. Buddington, breathlessly. "And to a woman whom yon know so little of! Oh, Frank, Frank! How recklessly you men fling your lives about!" Doctor Buddington smiled. Men as a rule do not like to be lectured, but Doctor Buddington would endure more of this mental discipline from his pretty sister in-law than from any other living person. So he stood there, with folded arms, leaning against the ruby velvet dra peries of the mantel, while Mrs. Tom Buddington clipped the dead leaves off her roses and shook her little crepe hQad at him warningly. " I don't suppose I know all about her," said he. "But a man might have a society acquaintance with a girl for ten years and really acquire very little knowledge of her true self. We all have to take our risks, Georgie, yon know." " One of your charity patients, I sup pose," said Mrs. Buddington, scorn fully. " You are wrong there, Georgie,'' said the doctor, with invincible good humor. "I met her first at one of the Thursday evening readings at the hall." " Oh, I forgot your philanthropic enterprises," said Mrs. Buddington, elevating her pink nose—"where the lame, the blind and the halt are all tumbled in together I" " She is a working-girl," said Doctor Buddington. ''And she is in Madame Fa vassi's embroidery and worsted store. And her name is Angela Adams. And she lives with her mother in a cheap boarding-house on Eighth avtnue. And new you know all about it I" "All 1" Mrs. Buddington made two round arches of her eyebrows. "I sup pose—although you haven't mentioned it—that she is pretty ?" "As beautiful as an angel," said Doc tor Buddington, enthusiasrically. "Oh, dear, dear!" said Mrs. Budding ton, shaking her head. "I'm afraid you've arrived at tho desperate stage of the disease, Frank 1 A shop girl in an avenue boa: ding-house, and beautiful as an angel!" And she drew a long sigh of despair. Just about the time Doctor Budding ton was running the gauntlet of his sistor-in-law's half-serious criticisms Angela Adams was confiding to her mother the new life which had just dawned on her life. " Angela, you don't mean it I" said poor Mrs. Adams. "It can't be pos sible 1" Mrs. Adamswaspale and attenuated and shabby, with great hollows under her check-bones, and eyes that glowed beneath their brows like smoldering fires. Angela was tall and graceful, with shining nut-brown hair, limpid brown eyes and a delicate! complexion, " where rose and lily strove together for mastery," as the old poet says: "I do mean it 1" said Angela. " And it is possible I He loves me and wants me to bo his wife." " Oh, heaven be praised for this I" ] eagerly exclaimed Mrs. Adams. " Doo-! tor Bnddington is a rich gentleman, who can place my jewel in a casket worthy of her brilliance. He has both * social position and dignity. He is one whose notice would be a oredit to any girl. Did you tell him, darling, how honored you were at his preference 7" The sudden crimson flamed into An gela's oheek; her eyes glittered. "Honored, mamma!" she exolaimed. "It Indeed, not There is no man living by whose gracious preference I should feel - honored I" " Angela I" " Doctor Buddington is very kind," said the girl, reoklessly. And I do not deny that I like him. But he is one of onr uncanonized saints. And I am human. I like to danoe, to go to parties, picnics, excursions. I delight in admiration, spirit, life. And," with an uplifting of her lovoly young head, "I do not propose to tako the veil dur ing all the rest of my life nnder the pretense of marrying. He need not think that becanso I went once or twice to the evening roadings that I intend to devote the rest of my days to theol ogy, lam not one of those soft, mal leable human creatures who can be molded into any shape or form. lam Angela Adams. And those who cannot tako mo just as I am had better let me entirely alone." Mrs. Adams looked fairly appalled. " Angola !" she cried. " Daughter I Are you crazy ?" Angela laughed. "Mamma," said she, " I did not in tend to indulge in such a tirade when I began. But 1 have only expressed my real sentiments, and now I must go back to the store, so good-bye!" And with a loving kiss she left the warm little room where poor Mrs. Adams spent most of her time on a not particularly comfortable sofa. Angela Adams was not unlike a half tamed wild animal. Shy, sensitive, distrustful of herself, almost more than of others, capable of almost limitless affection, yet cold by intervals, her moods varied with kaleidoscopic sud denness. "Yes," she said, within herself, "I love him I But—docs he love me? Am I worthy of a place in his heart? Onca enthroned there, am I capable of retain ing my position ? For I would rather never bo loved than, once having loved, to lose my scepter of command. Doc tor Bnddington is grave, silent, self contained. lam a trivial-natnred, un trained child; nor would I for worlds have him think me better than I am 1" And so, naturally enough, there came a time when their two natures jarred in. harmoniously. "Of coarse, Angel," said Doctor Buddington, unconsciously nsing her name, " yon will not go to tho 'Sum mer Night Festival?'" " Why shouldn't I go?" rotorted An gela, all the rebellious instincts of her natnre rising up against his words. " All tho other shop girls are going. And the Hudson by moonlight would be worthy of an artist's finest pencil I" "Won't it be rather a mischievous crowd ?" said Doctor Buddington, criti cally. " I do not plume myself on being an aristocrat," said Angela, coldly. "It isn't that, dear," argued the doc tor. " But tho Favard girls and Miss Belmont are going, with their cavaliers —at least so lam told—and they are scarcely the associates with whom I could wish you to mingle. "We think differently on that, as on many other subjects," said Angela. " Do not go, Angela 1" coaxed Doctor Bnddington. "To oblige me, abandon the festival 1" "Not II" said Angela, l'ghtly. "I love music and I am devoted to the water, and I exalt in moonlight. I shall go I" Doctor Bnddington looked sadly at the sweet, defiant young face. Was Georgie right, after all? Was there uu inharmonious chord in Angela's na ture which would scatter discord through their whole future lives ? He was a man who, although gentle, slow to decide, and judicially impartial, was apt, now and again, to act on the spnr of sndden impulse; and thns he spoke. "Do as yon please," said he. " But remember, Angela, that if yon go to this snmmcr-night picnic it will be in defiance of my plainly-expressed wishes, and I shall interpret it in bnt one way." So he went away, leaving Angela more determined than ever. "I am not to be coerced like a child,'' she said. " And I will go I" What a glorious night it was 1 The moonlight like beaming gold, the trees along the river bank fall of mystic shadows, the band playiDg Strauss' sweetest waltzes. The fact that Kate Belmont had brought with her the brother whom Angola so vehemently disliked, was only a temporary damper to her enjoyment. And she danoed, dreamed, watched the golden line of ripples that followed in their wake, and tried to forget Doctor Budding ton's face-and all the time she was miserable. "Wo are to stop here for water," cried Kate Belmont rushing np to her, " fifteen minutes. And there is a glen with an ice-oold spring, and Dora Fa vassi and I are going ashore. The captain says there will be plenty of time to gather maiden-hair ferns at the spring. Yon will oome with as, An gela?" And scaroely pausing to think An gela joined the olnster of tumultuous young girls who were hurrying aoross the plank into tne woods. " Kate I" she oried. " Dora, wait for me." But aim oat before she knsw it she j was by Hugo Belmont's side, in the darksome recesses of the glade. '' Where is the spring ?" she breath lessly demanded. "Where are the others ?" "It will be all right I" said Mr. Bel mont, with the smooth, plausible smile which she so disliked. "Don't hurry, I beg 1 There is plenty of time. Take my arm. I know of a short out which—" "But I don't like short outs 1" said Angela, angrily, as she remembered that she was alone with this man in the woods. "Take me back at once I" Mr. Belmont laughed in a sinister fashion. " You don't like short cuts," said he, "and you don't like me 1 But I like you, my pretty princess, and Kate has been obliging enough to play into my hands. There they go back to the steamer. They have hardly had time enough to get much maiden-hair fern, eh ?" '' Let us hasten I" cried breathless Angela. " There the boat whistles now I" But Mr. Hugo Belmont planted his stalwart figure resolutely across the path. "We are not going back," said he. "Now don't tremble so, Angela—l know some very pleasant people who live down this road, and I am going to take you there to spend the evening. All is fair you know, my dear, in love and war." Angela buret into a wild shriek. " Help 1" she cried, spurning the sneering villain away—"help ! help ' Oh, is there no one to hear me ?" At that self-same second a tall, dark figure seemed to glide like a shadow across their path—Hugo Belmont fell backward like a log, measuring his length on the dewy grass, and Angela felt her arm drawn resolutely through that of—Dr. Frank Bnddington I "You hero?" she cried, with a little hystorio gasp. "Oh, Frank, I am so glad—so thankful 1" "We must walk quickly," he said, in a low voice. " The steamer has already sounded her signal of departure—we have not a second to lose." It was like a troubled dream—the shifting moonlight, the dewy thickets, the glisten of the river, the conscious ness that they were once more afloat, with the sweet clamor of "The Beauti ful Bine Danube" again chiming in her ears, the colored lights of the boat shedding a rainbow-like glory on the thronged deck. Doctor Buddington led her to a se cluded seat, and stood in silenoe beside her. She was very palo—she wrung her hands. "How came you on board?" she asked, in a low tone. " Because, Angela, I felt that you needed a protector—because I did no*> dare to trust my treasured lamb among wolves. Do you know, dear," he added, impressively, 4 ' that you have had a most narrow escape?" " Yes," she answered, shuddering. "Oh, Frank, I have been so mad, so willful, that I almost deserved the worst which fate could award me. I have been trying an experiment with my own heart, and it has failed me. Dear Frank, can you forgive me? Can you credit me when I tell you that I shall never defy your better judgment again?" He stooped down in the shadow and tenderly kissed her brow. "My own darling," ho said, "I can credit anything which is good and true of you I You are only a little willful, that is all." " But I never will be willful again,'' she whispered, "for I love you, Frank; and if mv folly had estranged you, I should have been wretched for life." And that was the end of Angela's ex periments ; and Mrs. Dr. Bnddington is the most graoeful and dignified of young matrons, so that even Mrs. Qeorgie says, wonderingly : " I never could have believed that she could turn out such a perfect woman. Frank, you were right, after all."— Helen Forrest Graves. An Editor's Fright. A Paris editor was muoh bothered by one of his staff who was constantly in debt. At last to the gentleman's horror he one night caught sight of the follow ing paragraph in type for the next morn ing paper: " The creditors of M. X are hereby informed that he has decided upon paying his debts, and that they may, therefore, present themselves at the caisse of this journal to morrow nt 2. They will form a line along the Rue Ros sini, RueChanohant, Rue Lafayette and Boulevard Hausseman. A picqnet of eergeant-de-ville will keep order. The Marseilles will not be allowed." Aghast at this he went to see the chief. He had gone from the oity, leaving express orders (hat the paragraph should go into next morning's paper. It was only until the moment of going to press that that sub-editor discovered that he had. been made the victim of apraotiool joke which was intended as a lesson. " Ah, ha," said Mrs. Partington, "it takes all sorts of folks to make a world,', and I'm glad I'm not one of 'etn M Boots vs. the Guillotine. During the French Revolution, a feu illetonists named Sohlaberndorf, who possessed considerable ability as a writer, by heartily espousing the cause of the Girondists in all that emanated from his pen, rendered himself obnox ious to Robespierre, and at the dictation of that fierce leader was incarcerated. Whon the death-cart, one morning, came to the prison for its load of those who wore that day to be mercilessly butcherod, Schlaberndorf's name was on the list of the victims. The jailer in formed him that suoh was the case, and he dressed himself for his last ride very nonchalantly and—he was extremely fas tidious as to his personal appearance— with great care. His boots, however, ho could not find. Here, there, every where, assisted by the jailer, he looked for them to no avail. " I am quite willing to be executed,'' said he to the jailer, after their fruit less search, " but really I should be ashamed to go to the guillotine without my boots. Nor do I wish to detain this excursion party," smiling grimly. " Will it make any difference if my ex ecution is deferred till to-morrow? By that time I shall probably succeed In finding my boots." "I don't know that it will matter particularly when you are guillotined," replied the functionary. " Suppose we call it to-morrow, then ?" " All right," and the jailer allowed Schlaberndorf to remain, not unwill ingly, as, owing to his universal good humor, he was especially liked by jailer and prisoners. The following morning, when the cart drew up before the prison door for its "batch" of victims, Schlaberndorf— dressed cap-a-pie—stood waiting the summons of the jailer to take his place therein. But his name was not called that morning nor the next nor the fourth, nor, indeed, ever again. For, of course, it was believed he had perished on the original morning. Till the sway of Robespierre ended he remained in prison; then he regained his liberty as did the rest of those, once prisoners, whose heads had not fallen beneath the blood-stained ax.— Youth's Companion. Cultivating the Cork Oak. In the "cork tree,'' that species of oak whose elastio bark is of so muoh practical value in the manufacture of the familiar stoppers to the millions of bottles and jars in which it is becoming more and more the custom to preserve all kinds of eatables and drinkables, many of our colonies might find a profitable object of agriculture. The cork harvest in Spain, whioh, with France, Poilugal and Italv, is the princi pal source vraence we derive our supplies, is becoming every yoar more scanty, owing to the gresd of growers who have injured the stock of trees by stripping them of their bark too frequently. The tree which produces the mo3t valuable cork does not come to maturity for a quarter of a century, and can only be barked to advantage every eight or ten years; bnt the temptation to make rapid profits has been too great to with stand, and the result has been the in jury or rain of many plantrtions. Some of the quick-growing varieties produce an inferior, porons kind of corks, but the best are the slowest of growth. England alone imp >rts some 10,000 tons of cork per annum, and the quan tity is yearly ■creasing, notwithstand ing the introduction of many substi tutes for corks, such as plugs of wood, whose fibers have been specially soft ened for tho purpose, india rubber and other contrivances. The French gov ernment, seeing the desirability of securing as large a share of this trade as possible, havo for several years past givon special encouragement to the formation of plantations of the cork oak in Algeria, ana the same thing will, no doubt, bo done in Tunis, but the tree will grow equally well in India, Central America, the West In. dies, many parts of Africa and Austra lia, and in tho South Sea islands, and planters in our possessions there might lay tho foundation of a profitable in dustry by introducing some of these trees and starting their systematic cul tivation. The tree, besides being a nqost valuable oneand easily cultivated, is of magnificent growth, and would form an ornament in any landscape.— Colonies and India. Finishing n Canal Begun 2,500 Years Ago. Spraking of the Corinth canal, which has just been commenced, a London paper fays: Perhaps the most interest ing feature of the work is to be found in the fact tbat General Turr is follow ing, without the variation of a foot, the route laid cut by the engineers for Nero 1,80(1 years ago. Nero was not the ear liest worker, however. Pcrlander is said to have projeotedtuobacanul 2,500 years ago, and three centuries after ward Demetrius Poliooetes revived the scheme, but was dissuaded by the rep resentations of his engineers that, as the sea in the Gulf of Corinth was higher than in the Saronio gulf, tho water would ran through the canal and drown out M pina and the other islands on the east Ceasar had a plan for oanali ' zing the isthmus, and Caligula sent an officer to explore the route, but went no further. Nero made a serious endeavor to perform the work, which endeavor is thus described: Having raided a hymn. Luoian tells us, to Amphitrite and Po seiden, and sung a brief song to Meli eerte and Leuootbea, he thrice struck the ground with golden spado, and set his army to work at the trench, while a corps of convicts tackled the rocky ridge. After twelve days' work, how ever, Nero left Greece to quell an insur rection, and the cutting was abandoned. The lines of the trench in the low land still remain, the ditch being 130 feet wide, and there are cuttings in the lime stone at different levels, all of which, with the twenty-six wells sunk to try the rock and the large cistern to furnish water for the workmen, have been utilized by the French engineers. According to Dio Cassias, when Nero turned the iirst sod blood gushed from the earth and dismal groanings were heard; and Pausanius records that all the presumptuous engineers and con tractors had been slain by the gods. It is likely enough that the Corinthian priests worked on the fears of the superstitious to prevent the construction of a canal which wonld make the stay of visitors briefer and their offerings smaller in amount; but the people were always convinced of the importance of such a work, and indeed built a dioloes or polished way across the isthmus, on which ships were drawn from one har bor to another. As, according to Paus anius, the Isthmian sanctuary was situ ated at or very near the shortest line across the isthmus, it is not unlikely that in the work of cutting the canal important Graeco-Roman archselogical discoveries may be made. What Italian Doctors Claim. Three physicians in the city of Milan, Italy—Professor Gervasoni, Doctor Tu lao and Doctor Krebs—claim to have discovered an infallible cure for hydro phobia. Nothing is given out as to the nature of the remedy and treatment, but the physicians named propose to afford the world—at least the Americaa part of it—indubitable proofs of the value of their discovery. They are willing to come to any city of America, and to nllow one of their number to be bitten by an unmistakably rabid dog, and to perform the euro publicly and under the eye of the most capable observers. A New York jour nal says: "They exact three conditions before coming: 1. They want to be sure that their cure, if successful, will be generally accepted. 2. That after the first favorable trial even greater experi ments with animals and human beings shall be made, they agreeing to find the human victims. 3. That their success shall reap a substantial pecuniary re ward. They appeal to all persons in terested in the cause of humanity to aid them in the realization of this project by communicating with them." A Mexican Urarejard. It may have been the doleful effect of the eermon that decided us to drive over to the Mexican graveyard, says a correspondent. It is of small compass and rests on the side of a mountain. The Texans tell us death occurs here from the too frequent use of tho six shooter, rather than disease. The size of this graveyard, or "el murto," cor roborates this statement. It seems im possible for the Mexicans to free them selves from adobe, even after death. The bodies are placed in adobe tombs to keep them from the coyotes that infest this region. Some of these tombs are already almost completely demolished by these hungry animals. Tho brick look light and as though easily crum bled, but on trying to move one I found it as heavy as a stone of the same size. Blocks of wood, bearing Spanish in scriptions, were inserted in the heads of the tombs. They take no pains to beautify their "el murto." Inside a green railing was bnried an American mother and child. The gate of the lot was pallocked, an unnecessary precau tion, as the railing was low enough to scale or light enough to betaken up and carried off, padlock and all. Heathen Children and Tomato Catsup. Sometimes things get mixed, and nicely too, if not quite so neatly as was done by the printer of a Canadian news paper who tagged part of a receipt for tomato catsup on the opening para graph of an article on Catholicism in Africa, with the following result: •' The Roman Catholics claim to be making material advances in Africa, esp>cially iu Algeria, where they have 183,000 ad herents, and a missionary society for Cen tral Africa. Daring the past three years the; have obtained a firm footing in the interior of the continent, and have sent forth several missionaries in the eqna torial regions. They are accustomed to begin their work by buying heathen children and educating them. The easiest and best way to prepare them is to first wipe them with a clean towel; then plaoe them in dripping pans and bake them until they are tender. Then you will have no difficulty in rubbing them through the sieve, and will save them by being obliged to out them in •lions and oook for several boors. 1 ' STIBBIXG ADVENTURES. H*ane Predlctneiita Out at Which the lutora Oat by the Hkln of Their Teeth. Three lads, James Horan, John Ebart and Hensel Woods, were attempting to cross the Ohio river at Louisville in a skiff when their boat was drawn by the undertow into the rapids above the falls. People on the shore saw the boys sud denly bend to their oars as if rowing for life. They palled long and hard, bat were drawn down. In the rapids at this sea son of the year the yellow water is beaten into white foam and whirlpools, seize whatever comes in their way. The spec tators saw the skiff sacked ander by one of these whirlpools, its occupants also disappearing. A moment later the boat came to the surface bottom up and the boys were seen clinging to the keeL The current was drawing them straight toward the falls, where death was certain unless they should be rescued. Besoae was attempted by the life-saving crew at the station there, bat the life-boat got into a whirlpool and made no progress. Seeing that help must bo rendered quioklv, two young men Philip Ernest and Olsin Ally—shoved off in a third boat, while the excited crowd cheered repeatedly. Then there began a close race for life, the over turned boat being near the falls and that of the rescuers shooting down the rapids like an engine down an incline. When the latter had won and the half drowned lads had been drawn into the third boat the outburst from the shore seemed greater than the roar of waters. The row back was slow and as full of danger as the czar's path, but the shore was gained in safety. While Engineer Webb was driving his detached locomotive along the track near Hartford, Conn., the other day, ha saw that the locomotive of a train on a siding projected somewhat upon hia rails. He knew that there must be a smashnp and so jumped for his life, tha fireman following. The released en gine at once started on a wild run. It strnck the projeoting locomotive, but kept the track. The 6hock threw open the throttle and let on a full head of steam. Away then went the runaway like a flash. A telegraph operator saw the curious ao cident and hurriedly dispatched for everything to clear the track. A switch man who saw the runaway coming at the rate of " thousand miles a minute," as he expressed it, tried to switch the locomotive off, but was not in time. The wild steed rolled on into the Hart ford depot yard. Engineer Newton and his fireman were just getting their engine and tender off the main track. Huge masses suddenly uprearcd in air amid a cloud of steam, smoke and dust. Then it was seen that the runaway had struck Newton's tender, that both had been de railed and that Newton's looomotive hail in turn been sent rumbling away without a man to direot or oheok it. But the seoond runaway was short lived, for Newton's engine struck and demolished a third, bringing things to a stand-still. There were lively times ' all al.jng the track, yet no one was ! lulled. A number of carpenters began tearing ont the floor of the old Gampbellite church in Dallas, Texas, the congrega tion having Fold the property to a busi ness firm. While the removal of the floor was going on a piece of cil-oloth about three feet square a as discovered, and in the folds of the cloth was some hard substance. The workman who had found the object drew his fel lows around him by his exclamations and unrolled the cloth in their midst. Three round packages were revealed. The finder did not know what the packages contained and was about to toss them into a corner when some one shouted '•That looks like dynamite!" The man who held the explosive had sense enough to p ace it soltly down during the stampede that followed. After awhile the workmen mustered up the courage to look fnrther. Each piece of dynamite was more than a foot in length and two inches diameter. Two bot 1-s of nitro glycerine were fonnd also, as was a fall set of burglars' tools. The carpen ters were so much excited over their nairow escape that they hesitated awhile before they e mid be induced to go on with their work. It was evident that burglars had used the ohurch as a hiding-place. Mr. Thomas Hughes, according to the Liverpool Courier, is financially ruined by the failure of the ltagby colony in Tennessee. It is alleged that Mr. Hagbes was duped and flittered into the enterprise by B harpers in the United States. Away has been found for making old postal Girds useful. Out lengthwise into strips about an eighth of an* inch wide they make excellent lamp-lighten, whioh burn readily, do not thaow off sparks, and lease aoaroejj a trace of ashes. There is a boy in Columbia county, N. Y., who bas living a great-great grandmother,three great grant mothers, two grandmothers, and two grandfath ers. If that boy isn't spoiled it will bet a miracle.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers