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Remember or Forget.
I sat beside the streamlet,
I watched the water flow.
As we together watched it
One little year ago; \
The soft rain pattered on the lnrtg
The April grass wae wet,
Ah I folly to remember;
'Tie wiser to forget.
The nightingale made vocal
June's palaee pavod with gold;
I watched the rose yon gave me.
Its warm red heart nnfold;
But breath of rose and bird's song
Were fraught with wild regret.
'Tie madness to remomber;
'Twere wisdom to forget.
I Btood among the gold corn,
Alas 1 no more I know,
To gather gleaner's measure
Of the love that fell from you.
For me no gracious harvest—
Would God we ne'er had mot 1
'Tie hard, sure, to remomber, but
'Tis harder to forget.
The streamlet now is frozen,
The nightingales are fled,
The cornfields are desorted,
And every rose is doad.
I sit beside my lonely Are,
And pray for wisdom yet—
For calmness to remember,
Or courage to forget.
Back and lortli along the green ter
race of the Chestnuts strolled beantifnl
Ruby Londesborongh, her silken dress
of silver-gray trailing over the emerald
turf, her diamonds flashing, her flowers
glowing in the afternoon sunlight, and
by her side strolled Charles Henriok, a
pleasant, blonde young gentleman
whom she had known only during the
present summer. But she had never
known a more agreeable companion for
a leisure hour, and something in this
thought made her impetuous young
voice a little sharp as she said :
" Married ? Yes, I suppose so ; some
time. You know that I am engaged,
Mr. Henrick Y'
"No, I did not know," he replied,
" Betrothed by my father when I was
a child," she remarked, coolly, stopping
to add a red rose to the two white ones
ehe carried in her hand, and attentively
viewing the effect.
Charley observed it too in silence for
"To whom? Or is that a secretY'
" Oh, no I" answered Miss Londes
borongh, going on with her walk. "To
the owner of the Prince estate, adjoin
ing ours, half a mile below here."
"Do you mean Mr. John Prince T>
asked Charley, with a quick glanoe at
the perfect profile of this glowing
young beanty of nineteen.
"Yes. I have never seen him, you
know. He has never lived here, and
perhaps never wilL The old squire
Who did live at Three Elms was papa's
godfather and grandfather to—well,
"Yes. They were all Johns, youßee-
The squire and his son and his son's
ion, the present heir, were all the same
name. The squire, Old John and
Young John, I have always heard them
oalled," laughed Miss Londesborongh,
"And you are engaged to Young
"Yes, Ali the others are dead; he
is coming here this autumn and I am
to be married to him."
In spite of herself the careless voice
faltered a little. With an unexpected
hasty movement she flung the flowers
she had been so tender of into the fish
pond, at the edge of which they had
stopped. There was a flashing of silver
fins about the white and red; then Miss
Londesborongh shivered, said she was
cold and must go in.
He gave her his hand up tho terrace
steps, for he was not going in, then de
scended, and stood with his hat in his
hand watching her as she made a quiok,
graceful gesture of farewell, and passed
the portals of the old mansion. When
the last'shimmer of her dress had van
ished he went away very thoughtful.
His pretty little sister May was one
of the guests at the Chestnuts. He was
himself staying at the Spring house
with a party of friends. He often came
to see May, but he lingered to see
Buby. Her frank hospitality was irre
sistible, especially when she gave him
half an hour of her bright society
alone. She was not like other girls; she
never feared misconstruction of her
actions. Why need she? he thought.
He was poor; she was an heiress, and
engaged to Young John. Ho went down
the road, frowning at the birds and the
buttercups. But he came back that
evening with a buggy, and took May to ]
drive. Ruby watched the spirited chest
nut horse disappear among the trees.
" You have lost your game," said
young Vivien, with whom she was play
ing chess in the long drawing-room.
" Checkmate I"
She pushed back the table imperi
"There, (hat will do t"
"The rubber," he implored.
She went up to her room and flung
herself face downward across the bine
satin coverlet of her bed. The color
was not becoming to her; perhaps that
was why she looked pale and as if .there
were dark shadows nnder her eyes. The
tea-bell rung. She pulled a silken cord,
without rising, and summoned a maid,
to instruct with the message that she
was not coming down to tea—she had a
headache. The others could be merry
over tea and toast without her. She
must have time to think, out of the
long whirl oi gayety, or she should be
crazed. How fast the summer was
going I how imminent her marriage was'
Let her think—oh, let her think ! She
had never done so before.
Since she was fourteen she had known
that she was engaged to Young John,
He was a fine fellow, they told her, well
educated, traveled, rich—a parti in a
thousand. She was ielicitated, congratu
lated, and she had been flattered, con
tent, having no wanton fancies to per
plex the wise provision made her by her
Why should she quarrel with an ar
rangement which had been deemed
good for the princesses of noted lands ?
Yet she suddenly found herself battling
with a strange unhappiness. She was
not wont to be sad; she was too healthy
and sooial. At school she had been
primo favorite—at home she was
Since her return from the seminary
the previous spring the Chestnuts had
been full of company—most of the
guests her • gay girl graduates with
their golden hair." May Henrick and
a*half-score of others were with her
now. She ruled her house and pre
sided at her table with ease, for the
wheels of the establishment were
liberally oiled with gold; the servants
were old and versed in the ways of the
Londesboroughs; faultless service and
lavish pay had baen her father's rule-
She had not a care.
But to-night she brooded aloue unti 1
loug after the twilight had filled the
room. She wished they had not
promised her to Young John—a man
she had never seen. How prosaic and
unpleasant at nineteen to have all one's
fntore fixed! She wished those old
men—the squire and her father—had
let her futnro be. Other girls married
men of their choice. Why should not
she V She had no doubt that Young
John was unexceptionable, but she
really wanted none of him.
And she was to be married the com
ing autumn! A feeling of dull resent
ment and grief mingled and swelled
within her breast. Ho had written her
two letters, Young John—very nice
civil letters, which she had been in
structed by her father's old lawyer, Mr-
Lindsay, to answer. She had never
done so. She really did not like to
write letters, and had never had a cor
respondent in her life.
She pouted now, thinking that Young
John was probably awaiting an answer
to his last epistle. Finally she sud.
denly got up, bathed her face and rear
ranged her'shining, dark hair. She
had remembered that when Charley
Henrick brought his Bister back he
would probably come in for an hour.
She fastened some soarlet geraniums
at her throat and tied her hair with a
cardinal ribbon. The glowing red be
came her; it was his favorite color.
Certainly she had never looked pret
tier than when she appeared below
among tho bright company. And when
('barley Henrick had come with May
it was late before he left the Chestnuts.
Now, May Henrick was one of the
prettiest of the " golden-haired gradu
ates"—a girl cool and mild enough to
bo Ruby's very opposite, and by virtue
of these qualities was very agreeablo to
But the latter never told her what she
had never told herself until that night,
and May, having her objeot in view,
had some difficulty in approaohing the
subject during the coming day.
They were sitting on a bank, watch
ing the others on the croquet-lawn,
when May, having gathered all the
bluets within her reach, opened the
conversation with the remark:
" I suppose you will bo married by
this time next year, Ruby ?"
Ruby started, and her smile faded,
but she replied ooolly enough:
"I suppose so."
" You are quite sure that you have
never seen Mr. Prince—when you were a
child, I mean ?"
"No—l have never seen him, May."
"Do you know how old he is?"
Ruby had never noticed that May's
blue eyes were so sharp before; but she
"No—l haven't the least idea. It's
rather like buying a pig in a poke, as
the Scotch say—isn't it?" she added,
with a rather absent smile.
Then young Yiviers came up to beg
her to take his mallet, as he had
twisted his ankle by a misstep and it
pained him; and Ruby went upon the
ground, leaving her seat by May very
welcome for his use.
By-and bye, Charley Henrick drove
up, and when they had all played cro
quet until thoy were tired, and had had
a lunch of strawberries and cake un
der the trees May found time to whis
per to him :
"She doesn't know. It's just as I
told you—she doesn't know "
What ailed Ruby during the coming
weeks? She was her old self—
her careless ease was gone. She was
wildly gay or silent and absent.
The last of September Mr. Lindsay
came to see her; the first October
Young John was expeoted.
"Mr. Lindsay," asked Ruby, "sup
pose I should not marry Young John ?"
The old lawyer raised his gray eye
"Such a supposition is not possible,"
he said, " for in that case he can appro
priate your fortune. Tho two estates
are combined, and all you have is in
volved in them."
Ruby went about like one in a cloud.
She wondered if in all tho world there
was any one else so unhappy.
One cool night the company were
dancing in the long hall whioh extended
through the house. In the midst of
the lilarity Ruby's spirits suddenly
deserted her. She went out upon the
piazza and stood leaning against one of
the pillars wreathed with woodbine,
Her dress was white ; her dark eyes
were in shadow. Their gaza was utter
ly sad as they were turned upon the
happy company under the flashing
lights. They—everybody—seemed so
far away, and she so lonely.
She turned aside, catching her breath
with a little sobbing sigh, and turned
into somebody's arms. A loving, blonde
face, a strong shoulder—before Ruby
know what she was doing she sobbed
there for a moment.
" Darling I" whispered Charley Hen
rick, "let me comfort me. You do not
know how dear you aro to me I I love
you best of all the world I Tell me—
tell me what grieves you ?"
" Hush—hush ! Oh, it is nothing,"
answered Ruby, flushing, trembling,
frightened, yet "comforted" to the
depths of her heart. "Oh, you mustn't
talk to me so!" and she turndd away
and was gone.
Charley Henrick was soon gone, too
—indeed, he started on a journey that
very night. In fact, it was the thirtieth
of September, and he had not much
time to spare.
On the evening of October 2 a
carriage stopped below the lower terrace
of the Chestnuts, and Ruby, starting up
startled in her chamber, soon had a
card laid in her hand. Mr. John
Prince—Young John—awaited her in
For a moment the girl turned quite
faint, then she rose up resolutely and
went to the mirror. She was utterly
pallid, but she arranged her dark braids
with a steady hand and went steadily;
The door swung under her cold hand
a stalwart gentleman, with curling
white hair and beard, apparently about
sixty years of age, rose from a sofa and
advanced, with kindly courtesy, to take
"Miss Londesborough!" he said,
"Mr. Prince?" she faltered, looking
at him with wonder, the interrogation
of her accent ropeated by her amazed
"Yes, Young John—though young no
The cloud in which Ruby moved was
intensified. Mr. Prince remained at the
Chestnuts on a visit of a weok. He
would have been very nice, Ruby
thought, if he had been her father. But
" Well, my dear," taking her hand one
evening, " What do you think of me ?"
"I respect you very mnoh," faltered
Ruby. " Only"—rushing on—" I—l
thought you were young!"
"My grandfather was very old and
evidently in his dotage when he be
trothed us—eighteen years ago," he
said. "I was a middle-aged man when
you were born. I know, my child, that
you would be very miserable if I should
propose to marry you. But I have a
young friend in whose happiness I have
an interest. You shall marry him and
I shall be quite satisfied. Your for
tune, too, shall be yours."
" Oh, no, no I" gasped Ruby.
What I Not a young husband, blue
eyed, and hand some as yourself V evi
dently enjoying her agitation.
" No," murmured Ruby. *
" You are quite sure ?"
"You shall be urged to nothing
against your will; but let the young
gentleman speak for himself."
He rolled aside a folding door and
Charley Henrick roso and came into the
"It is as you believed, my lad; her
heart is yours, not mine," said Young
John, rubbing his gray hair upright
about his wrinkled temples and smiling
benignly upon Ruby's blushes. "I am
very glad you came to confide in me,
Henrick, and saved me a disappoint
ment, for I am convinced she is as good
as she is beautiful, and a treasure for
It soon oame ont that Charley Hen
riok had known Yonng John for years,
and his sister May had sagely hinted
that Baby would never marry him when
she knew how old the gentleman was—
a hint npon whioh he sokd by going to
meet Youn<> John,and telling him frank
ly that he had won her, or believed that
Surely there was never suoh an ex
emplary old gentleman as Young John.
Ho oame blithely to the wedding,— Ea.
ther Serle Kenneth.
Training a Colt.
Tho most successful way of training
an animal, says a correspondent of the
Country Gentleman, is to begin at birth;
It is then readily managed, as there is
no acquired habit to be overcome. The
important point to be kept in view is to
teach him what you want him to know,
and only that. In order to db it suc
cessfully two things are necessary—
kindness and decision; these must
never be lost sight of. Let the colt
know you mean well in the start and all
subsequent handling. And in direct
ing him give him to understand
that there is no other way than
yours, and he soon be mad J
to respond to the gentle, yet firm,
pressure. Let your society be amonfj
his first impressions. Pass your hancj
softly over him and pat him, but do nof
tire him. Repeat your visits at first
at short You will thus, iol
his mind, be coupled with his mother/
and share her familiarity and also the
sense of protection. If you secure his
attachment and reliance upon you, you;
will have laid the basis for all your
work. When leading the mother put a
halter on the colt also, so as io get
him used to it and give an idea of re<i
straint. Continue this in the stable.
In the use of the halter care must be
exercised so as to avoid rashness and
undue severity. But always maintain
your firmness with him; never yield in
what you undertake, being sure yorf
undertake only what is necessary, and
what has previously been determined
upon. But have confidence; he is young,
and you never can handle him so
readily as now, when he is at the
feeblest and has not learned differently.
He will soon yield to your way, the
only way he will know, and all the
moro when he knows it does him no
harm. This last is important. If
harm is to come to him let it not come
from you. Make him familiar with
noises and startling approaches, first of
a mild character, gradually increasing
till the most stirring ado fails to move
him. This will prevent his shying.
Handle his feet and familiarize your
self with every part of him. Put things
on his back, light at first; follow him
with a bag, and at last, when oil
enough, with yourself.
Whatever is done, never lie to a colt
—never contradict yourself ; he will re
member it, and it will confuse him ; he
will be as apt to go wrong as right. All
uncertainty mußt therefore be avoided,
and the line marked out for him must
be clear to him, and to yon also; he
must be held steadilj in until he be
comes established in it, when he will
not wish to depart from it. All must be
dono with a view, among other things,
to make it as pleasant for him as possi
ble, with the restraint always applied
where needed, and never yielding, but
doing it in kindness and with as little
ado as possible. He thus grad
ually, and unawares to himself,
learns to do what you want of him,
and that alone, if you keep other
influences away from him. Never over
exercise him. Do not bother him with
heavier loads than he can draw if you
wish to keep him from balking. In all
that you are to do, do not lose sight of
the important element of doing it in a
gradual way. If it is thought there is
too mnoh to be done, let it be remem
bered that the horse is a valuable ani
mal, and that the pains taken with him
increase this value by making him so
much the more serviceable, readily han
dled and always reliable. Every true
horseman will appreciate this. If the
colt fails to respond with sufficient
alacrity, if, further, he is stupid or
awkward or of an indolent nature, sell
him ; you do not want him.
A Love Affair Wound Up.
"I should smile,"
As Bertha Redingote spoke these
words she lay ooqnettishly in a ham
mock that had been Bwung between two
giant oaks that reared their tall heads
aloft in the broad lawn at the edge oi
which stood her father's stately resi
dence. A little foot peeped out from
beneath a fleecy white dress, while the
laughing eyes and fair forehead of the
girl were surmounted by a coronal
of snnnily-gold tresses of whioh any
hair store might have been prond.
"So yon like ice-cream V" said Harold
Mclntyre, bending over the hammock
and looking tenderly into Bertha's blue
" I should smile," said the girl again,;
getting ready to put on her slipper and
'• You are right," said Harold. " loe
cream is a good thing. Perhaps some
day next week I will boy yon some."
Tbe look of happy expectancy faded
from the girl's face. "What time is itf'
"Ten minutes to 6." replied Harold.
"Then," said Bertha, "if yon start
right away, yon will get home in time
for supper."— Chicago Tribune.
The estimate at Washington is, that
the debt reduction (or the oarrent fis
cal year will reaoh fully 9150,000,000.
MORAL AM) RELIGIOUS*
Good nature is a gem which shines
brightly wherever It is fonnd. It
oheers the darkness of misfortune and
warms the heart that is Gallons and
cold. In social life who has not seen
and felt its influence? Don't let little
matters ruffle you ; nobody gains any
thing by being cross and crabbed. If
a friend has injured you, if the world
goes hard, if you want employment and
can't get it, or can't get your
honest dues, or fiie has consumed
or water swallowed up the fruits
of many years hard toil, or your faults
uro magnified, or enemies have tra
duced or friends deceived, never mind ;
don't get mad at anybody, don't abuse
the world or any of its creatures.
Keep good-natured, and our word for
it, all will come right. The soft south
wind and the gentle sun are not more
effectual in clothing the earth with
\ordure and sweet flowers than is good
nature in adorning the hearts of men
and women with blossoms of kindness,
Lappiness and affection, those flowers
the fragrance of which ascends to
ReUiclonn Neiri and Note*.
The two hundred and fiftieth anni
versary of Congregationalism was re
cently celebrated in Lynn, Mass.
Joseph Cook has delivered five lec
tures in Yokohama, and is to lecture in
Shanghai before he goes to Australia,
pe draws crowds.
The Hymnal of the Established
Church of Scotland has been received
with such enthusiasm that more than a
million copies have been sold.
It is stated as one of the most recent
proofs of the 'success of missionary
feffort in Japan that it is quite com
mon to hear the children in the streets
singing, "Ah Jyeaudisu* —Jesus loves
The old plan of the American Bible
society to give a Bible to every family
that is not supplied with one, worked
so well a generation ago that the mana
gers are about to do their work over
again, and on a larger scale.
The bishops of the Methodist Epis
;opal church have issued a circular let
ter to all the denominations, recom
mending that the churches get out of
3ebt, so that "no more of the
Lord's precious money be sunk
in the interest."
The American Home Missionary
society makes a new departure in Min
nesota and* Dakota. Under direotion
of Superintendent Montgomery, as
sisted by Rev. F. N. Wolcott, a vigor
ous effort is being made to secure the
building of churches and parsonages
in the small towns and frontier fields.
The ninety-ninth annual convention
of ,the Protestant Episcopal church of
the diccese of Maryland, met at Balti
more recently. The number of com
municants reported was 20,853, an in
crease of 800. The sum of contribu
tions for the year was 8266,471, an in
crease of 811,503 over the previous year.
Anomalies of Mormonlsm.
The special correspondent of a New
York paper writes from Salt Lake City,
where ho was sent to picture the pleas
ures and conveniences of polygamy,
that a Mormon friend enumerated at
his request the following anomalies that
he knew of in recent polygamous mar
" A young and very pretty girl, in
• the upper ten ' of Mormonism, mar
ried a young man of her own class, but
stipulated before marriage that he
should marry a second wife as soon as
he could afford to do so. Against his
will she has now kept .him to his
"A young couple wero engaged, but
quarrelod, and the lover out of pique
married another lady. Two years later
his first love, having refused other of
fers in the meantime, married him as
his second wife.
"A man having married a second
wife to please himself, married a third
to please his first.
" A couple about to be married made
an agreement between themselves that
the husband's second wife should be
one of the relatives of his first wife.
The lady who was selected refused, and
the husband remained true to his prom
ise for ten years. At the end of this
time bis first wife voluntarily chose an
other mate for him.
" The belle of the settlement, a gen
tile, refused monogamist offers of mar
riage, and married a Mormon who bad
fwo wives already.
" A girl, distracted between her love
for her suitor and her love for her
mother, oompromised in her affections
by stipulating that he should marry
both her mother and herself, which ho
• A girl, a gentile, bitterly opposed
at first to polygamy, married a polyg
kmist at the solicitation of his first wife,
per great friend.
"Two girls were good friends, and
one of them, getting engaged to a man
by no means of prepossessing appear
ance, persuaded her friend to get en
gaged to him too, and he married them
both on the same day."
THE PHANTOM CITT.
What ni Explorer Inn (Uncovered In Get*
Some weeks ago the news came from
Central America that M. Desire Charnay,
the explorer, sent thither by Mr. Loril
lard, of New York, had discovered the
"Phantom City," of which Stephens
heard, and which one of his informants
claimed to see from a lofty mountain
top. It was hoped that the discovery
might establish the existence of a settle
ment of the ancient race of the country
far in the wilderness, and throw muoh
new light on prehistoric America. In
the North American Review M Charnay
tells what he saw. He was in the coun
try of the Lacandones near the Guate
mala border, and was making his way
with difficulty. The natural obstacles
of the wild country were great, and
besides he was suffering from an attack
of fever. To his surprise, on reaching
the city, he found an Englishman,
Alfred Maudsley, was ahead of him. He
was only an amateur, however, and
bade M. Charnay regard the conquest
as his own.
i Lorillard City, as M. Charnay calls
1 the place, consists of palaces, temples
■■ and palaces resembling those of Palen
que, erected on the top of natural ele
vations which the builders rendered
accessible by esplanades and flights of
steps. There are the same hieroglyph
characters in the inscriptions, and the
Borne personages and facial types on
bas reliefs. It was a Toltec settlement.
The buildings have been greatly dis
figured by time, the plaster and the in
terior decorations having fallen away.
The vaults are convex, concave and
plane, while at Palenque plane sur-
I faces, and at Comalcalco and Kaboh
! concave ones are in the ascendant.
; Two walls in one of the two palaces
j come together without any keystone,
while each palace has a massive wall
rising above the roof, with oblong
openings like windows.
The great temple is still standing. It
is built on the summit of a pyramid 125
feet in height, and faces toward the
river. The wall above the root reminds
one of the edifices in Yucatan de
scribed by Stephens. In the middle of
the wall once stood an enormous statue,
only fragments of which remain. Among
the bas reliefs of its three portals was
one which exhibits two human beings
of the Palenque type, each holding in
the hand a regular Latin cross with
flowered arms. The interior of the
temple consists of a long, narrow cor
ridor, with openings in the rear wall
into four oratories or little chapels.
There is a similar chapel at the right
hand end of the corridor, and ut the
left hand end is a little dwelling room,
probably intended for the use of the
servitor of the temple. In the little
chapel in the middle is a platform about
two feet high, on which once stood a
large idol, finely sculptured. Its frag
ments now lie on the floor. The natives
offered incense to it until it fell, since
which they have ceased to frequent the
city. To the left of the temple is a pal
ace with sleeping places of cement,
doubtless for those who served the tem
ple. The great teocali, or perhaps the
fortress, stands in the rear of the temple.
It is a pyramid 200 feet high, and on the
esplanade at its top six palaces formerly
stood, of which the ruins of one re
main. H. Charnay hardly thinks he has
reached Stephens's "Phantom City.''
The name probably belongs to one dis
covered in Chiapas on the other side of
the mountains. This he was unable to
reach, through sickness and fatigue.
He therefore went to the city of Mex
ioo, there to make castings for the
Lorillard museum. He has reached
i the opinion, after repeated examina
| tions of the forests, that no argument
for the age of the ruins can be based
on the age of the trees. The conoen
| trio rings grow very fast in the hot and
i humid climate, and the hardest wooded
I trees rarely live more than 200 years,
j Monuments whose age is certainly
known, and whioh cannot date from a
period anterior to 1430 or 1440, and
were destroyed or abandoned in 1C96,
are in the same condition as those of
Palenque or Lorillard City, and the
forest that surrounds aDd is prey
ing upon them is of the same
age. The same conclusions have
been set forth more in detail in
some of the author's earlier articles,
and they refute, on apparently good
grounds, the prevalent theory of the
vast antiquity of Central American civi
lisation. The sculptures also show a
relationship between American and
Asiatic—perhaps the Buddhist-faiths,
and incline one to repose some confi
denoe in the Chinese story of the Fuh
Biang voyage to the unknown west in
the fourth oentury of the Christian era.
Altogether Mr. Charnay has made a
rich " find," and oan afford to leavo the
Chiapas rains far some other explorer,
sinoe, as he says: "The question for the
determination of which I undertook
this expedition is settled. A city more
or less oannot affeot the results ob
Resinoaa trees, like the pine, trans
pire twioe m much u other trees, and,
when they are exposed to moist air,
abaorb more water.