The DmraM Obi. Oh, Miry, go sod mil tbm uUb And mil Uwoattls hnn And mil th* cuttle boon% Arrows lh mnd* o' Dm — Hw western w*rr wiw wild sad dm* And nH nlono want aha. rbe creeping tide mana op ah** the land. And o'er and o'ar Ilia aand, And round and roond Urn aaad. Aa for iu ojro could woe; IV blinding miala onme down and hid tha land, Aud never homo came sba. Oh, ia it wwhl, or fish, or floating hair? A trass o' golden hair. Of drownod maiden's hair. Above the neta at eea - Wae never snlinon yot that abiua ao fair, Among the stake on Don. They powasi her in arrow* the roiling foam. The crnel scrawling foam. The cruel hungry foam. To her grave liewide the sea; Bat still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home Across the sands o' IVe. —Char In KimfjiUry. A PRECIOUS AMULET. A little farm-house door was wide ojien, so that Mrs. Thalia Thaxter, sit ting at her knitting, could act! the al ternate sweeps of elouds and sunshine ■ over the distant fields, and the green billows of the apple orchard tossing to ! and fro. Along the fenee ml currants were ripening; neat carnations, tied up to; green-painted stakes. lifUxl their heads toward the purple and pink eon vol vo lus-eups that ran riot over tho stone wall, and the gray eat, sunning itself on the doorstep, was half asleep. So i was Mrs. Thalia " The house seems so still without Dora," the old lady pondered, as she, caine to the seam-needie and let the | half-completed stocking fall into her lap. " She's been married six months j now, and I declare to goodness it seems like six years! I never knew how dear the child was to me until she went i away. And " —suddenly pausing, with i an intent, listening look—"if I wasn't mortal sure that she was in New York,! living in a flat, I should say that that was her footstep!" And in the same breath, Dora Wil ton, the dimpled, dainty little bride, who had been brought up in this very farmhouse, ran into old Mrs. Thalia Thaxter's arms. " Why, Dora!" said the old lady. "This ain't you? Nothing has hap pened, I hope?" " No, aunty," sobbed the girl. " Hut I did want to see you so much; so as ! soon as Herbert went to the office, I took the express train and came down to spend the day with yon." "Anda very good idea, lam sure," j said Mrs. Thaxter, bustling cheerfully j around to remove her niece's things. " And I'll make you a rup of tea directly, and I'll cut you a piece of the 1 blacklx-rry short-cake I male this morn ing, and we'll make believe it was old times, and you never married at all —eh ?" And Dora who sat moodily playing with her bonnet ribbons at the window, burst into tears and exclaimed: " Oh, aunty, if only it was old times! If only I had never married all!" Mrs. Thaxter stopped short, with the qnaint little Japanese teapot in her { hand. " Why, Dora dear," sail! she, " what is the trouble ? Aren't you happy ?" " No!" sobbed Dora—" oh, no, no!" " Anl why not, in the name of com- 1 men sense?" demanded the old lady. " You loved him and he loved you. And when you two were married, and went away from here, you were the happiest couple that ever 1 saw." "Yes, 1 know," said Dora, still keep ing her face averted from the old maid's questioning gaie; " but Herbert dotsn't love me as he used to." " My dear," said Mrs. Thalia Thaxter, " whose fault is that 7" " Not mine, I am surer said the bride, firing up in her own defense. " No body can he expected to lie always as amiable, its the patient Urisclda. And jf hedoren't want me to speak short, he shouldn't he everlastingly finding fault." Mrs. Thaxter looked at her niece witli a little sigh. " Yos," said she, " I see. It's the little foxes that spoil the grapes. You could endure a severe test of your love—" " But not these little, pricking, worrying trials," spoke Dora, with spirit. " Oil aunty I what shall I do?" " Dora," said Mrs. Thaxter after a brief silence, during which she made the tea and poured it out—a clear and fragrant licVerage— into little cups of antique china, with spoons shaped like miniature soup-ladlrc, and bearing the " hall mark" of a hundred years ago, % all this is no new tale for me to listen to. The world repeats itself in every generation. I, too, when first I was mar ried to your Uncle Thaxtot passed through just such an cxpelfftace as this." fi.. 'a ■ ' :, vr "Didyou,aunty?" with sudden in terest. " For a little while, and then It passed away." "But how?" said eager, tearful Dora. " I used—a charm !" said Mrs. Thax ter. " A charm ?" Dora looked almost incredulously at her aunt. "A charm," repeated the old lady; " which 1 Inherited from my own mother." " Was it effectual?" Dora asked, won- 1 deringly. " Entirely so," answered Mrs. Thax ter. " ()li, aunty! what was it ?" " Weil, dear, I don't mind telling you," said the old holy. " And I'll give j you the amulet itself. 11ere!" Nlie unclasped a string of dull gold 1 Wads from about her neck as she spoke —old-fashionisl globes of pris-ious metal, whose patterns of ehasisl ara besques bad long since Wen worn off J into glisteningsuiiNithness twenty-one j of them, neither more nor less, strung on j a pie< silken thread. " Your gold beads, aunty!" cried Dora. " My magic spell, child," answered , the old laily. "1 never wore them round my neck in those days. I carried them hidden away in my pocket. You 1 must dot lie same. IW not let Herbert suspect they are thcrp. Ihit when lie speaks a little rrisply, and you feel in- j dined to retort with sharpness, stop and count off three i>l* these Wads with your ■ lingers. Then say what you please." I)i>ra laughed hysterically. " Youarcniakinggameof me,aunty," 1 said she. '• I am speaking tin* solid truth," said Mrs. Thaxter. " 1 don't ask you to be lieve in me or in my amulet. I only ask you to give it a fair trial." " But," argued Dora, "it seems so ridiculous." "Very likely," said the oh! lady; "but I hail the beads from my mother, arid she taught nic their spell, which I, in my time, found so efficacious. But mind, you are not to utter a syllable until you have counted throe Wads— one, two, three. One fur faith, two for hope, three for charity. Then trust me, niece Dora, you will find the fever will burn out of your heart, tin* harsh, nettle stinging words will slide unspoken from your tongue." " Well," said Dora, taking tho beads and glancing almost supT*titiouxly at their dull glitter, " 1 will try them. But lam almost certain that they will not do any good." "And I am certain that they will," said Mrs. Thaxter, quietly. "Now let us go nut into the garden and get some of tin* early Sweetwater pears, and gather white currants for tea." S> Dora spent the day happily at the old farm, ami went ha-k in the sultry summer twilight to her new home. Herbert Wilton was there la-fore her, impatiently pacing tin* tloor. "This isn't a particularly pleasant place to route back to and find de serted," said he, sharply, " Why couldn't you have told me you were going away, and t!u*n I could have sja-nt the evening at the rlub." " Because 1 am not a five-year-old child to ask leave every time I go out." was the answer that ruae hotly to I>>- ra'sli|s; but she cheeked herself as she remembered Aunt Thaxter's amulet, and slipping her hand into the jus-Wet of her dress she counted off one, two, three of the glittering beads. And by that time a little of the dreariness of the urilighted apartment struck into her own lu-art. It was a cheerless place for Herbert to come home to! " I'll light the gas directly, dear," she said. " And |>erhaps I ought to have told you that 1 thought of spending the day at the old farm. I did want to see dear old aunty so badly." Herbert's frown faded away ; and naturally enough, too, he said : " Suppose we go down together on Sunday, Dora. It must lie rattier stupid for you here, with nothing but the canary and your needlework to amuse you. Now sit down, and I'll read the evening pajuTs to you." An almost superstitious thrill passed through Dora's heart, as she recognized the success, in this first ordeal, of the old lady's amulet. The next morning, Mr. Wilton, dressing in a great hurry, found a but. ton off bis shirt. " Here's a button gone again !" he i-xclnimed, flinging the shirt on the floor. "It does seem to tne, Dora, that you might lie a little more careful about these things." " That is no re,-iion that you should lose your temjier," trembled on Dora's tongue. But tliP amulet—the amulet I It flashed across her memory, as if the dead gold of the tlino-jwllshed halls were yellow lightning. . " I'll look them all over thifl morn 'nff ITerbert," she said, pleasantly. "You shall find every button Ugh", after this." Fin laughed. " I should'nt have spoken so quickly," said he. " But a button off a man's shirt is a proverbial trial to Ids temper, you know, Dora." At breakfast the coffee was thick and turbid, the muffins of a sheet-lead con sistency. Mr. Wilton pushed back his chair. •• What sort of stuff do you call this?" I said lie, angrily. Dora flushed to the roots of her hair. " If you don't like it—"but then she paused, without adding " you can let it alone," and told over the magic heads. Yes, It was true. The hot coffee was very had. the hot bread was not fit to eat; and die said, quietly: "I'll try to instruct Bridget a little. She is very ignorant, but she seems will ing enough. In the meantime, if you'll have a little patience, I'll run out and I make a fresh cup myself." Herbert, as amiable as lie was iinpctu | ous, was reconciled at once. " No, darling," said he—"you shall not do that! Do you suppose I want your pretty face roasted over the hot coals? Give me a tumbler of milk, and let us IIOJH- that Biddy will have better ■ luck next time." | And wlien be was gone to theofllce, leaving the affectionate good-bye kiss on Dora's check, she drew out the amulet , ;iml pressed it to her lips. " You darling, glittering old tiling!" she said, aloud. " You have already j begun to lift me out of the slough of despond! Herbert I|IK-S lovo me; and I I am learning to control that pettish, wayward, uncontrollable tongue of auino a little, thanks to you, good am ! lllet!" At the end of a month she went j down to the old farm house again. " Well, Dora," said Mrs. Thalia Thax ter, "and how ds-s the spell work?" j "Oh,aunty," cried Dora, "I am so J happy. And so thankful to you! And j oh!—might I keep these precious old ! beads?" "Of course, mv dear—of course!" ' said Aunt Thaxtcr. " Though in re spect to their qualifications as an amulet— " You needn't tell me. aunty," said Dora, laughing and coloring. " I have discovered that already for myself. It isn't the three !>cads so much us it is the stopping to think. Nor the charm, so much as the controlling one's tem per. I was too quick and irritable; and Herbert didn't always think. We are both better children now. We have made up our minds never, never to let a sharp word come lw-tween our two hearts! And we are disciplining our selves—oil, yon can't thi-.x how splen didly! But all the same, aunty, I should like to keep those old gold tn-ads, which have M-on in the family for a hundred years!" "And you shall, my dear," said Mrs. Thaxtcr, with a pearly mist gathering ion her spectacle glasses. "Henceforth they are yours." " lb-cause," iKua added, " they have really l**en to me • A I'rccious Amu let!'"—//-"/"I Fon*t t/rorv-t. " I nilcr the Rose." This expression ti*>k its origin from the wars l*-tween the British houses of York and Lancaster. The parties respectively swore by the red or the whit, rose, and these opposite emblems were displayed as the signs of the two taverns, one of which was J>y the side of, and the other opposite the I'arliar ment House in Old Palace Yard, West minster. Here the retainers and ser vants of t lie noblemen attached to the Duke of York and Henry VI. used to meet. Here, also, as disturbances were frequent, measures, either of defense or annoyance, were taken, and every trans action was said to tie done "under the rose," by which expression the mint profound secrecy was implied. Ac cording to others this term originated in the fable of Cupid giving tho rneeto Harpocrati-s, the god of silence, as a brilie to prevent him lietraying the amours of Venus, and was hence adopted as the emblem of silence. The rose was, for this reason, frequently sculptured on the ceilings of drinking and feasting rooms, as a warning to the guest that what was said in moments o( conviviality should not be repeated, from which, what was intended to be kept secret was said to bo held "under the rose." Itosee were consecrated as presents from the pope. In 1 526 they were placed over confessionals as the symbol of eeorecy. Hence, according to some, the origin of the phrase. Ills First Impulse. " Boy," said a stranger to a lad who was blacking his tamta in front of a hotel yesterday, "if 1 should give you a dollar would your first impulse be to go to the circus?" " No, sir," was the prompt reply. "My 1 first Impulse would lie. that it was a 1 counterfeit biiii"— Deimit Fr* Prut. LA I) IKS' DEPARTMENT. Allium. Muallrs. Light colored cloths in the cuir and ficelle shades are used for dressy man tles and jackets for the autumn. The mantles are in visite shape, half long, with square sleeves, and are cut wpuri usually from the waist down in the middle of the back, in order to make room for very bouffant tournures; in deed, all new wraps, though made very clinging to give slender effects, are made with provision for very ample drapery. < 1 ray ficelle lace in two full frills, with passementerie of gray satin cords is the trimming for these grace ful visitcs.— B(Uar. Nratou*a l.nrr llnbr^ A nurse at a Saratoga hotel during the past summer had in charge a young lady of three months of age, who was known to the most of the guests as the la e baby. The infant charmer was brought out each day in as many toilets as a full-grown belle. One morning its long Valenciennes lace frock was worn over a pale blue slip, and on an other day soft rose-color revealed the exquisite meshes and needlework in which it was swathed. The lace baby was covered with a lace-trimmed cloak and reposed on a lace cushion carried In the arms of a maid, whose cap rile bons and kurchiefs matched the color of the baby's costume each day. The poor little pink face was sunk nest of lace ruffles, and its lace trimmed garments made its wardrobe as costly as any dowager's. Valen ciennes, rluny, lloniton, and even point lace was worn by this squalling bit of humanity in most lavish quan tities, and in tie -<• first blinking months of its existence there was a fuss and ado made over it that it may never on joy again. Old .Wnld*. The Philadelphia Record has a good word ti> say al>ut "old maids," which does crisiit to its sense of justice. After alluding to some of the disagreeable types of elderly spinsters, it says: Hut there is another side of the pic ure—the g-ntle, sweet-fared maiden adv, with a heart as light as that aniard* are liotind to get the best of the United States in some way and break this country all up in business. Their latest ruse is sending several ship-loads of Spanish mules over to this country. It is said that those mules that kick in a foreign tongue are terribly fatal and stutter so liad with their hind feet in attempting t< master the dialect of this country that they are worse than the explosion j of a powder mill to turn loose among people. Uncle Sjiin should put his foot down on Hpain and stop such underhanded work that will undermine ihe liberties of our people and kick folks all over the western hemisphere. They are treacherous fellows those • Spaniards, liiliraukrr Stm. The United States produces 27,237,- 980 pounds of cheese annually. WORDS OF WISDOM. Flatter not thyself In thy faith to od, if thou wantest chanty. It in hard to chrtoM between a sacred personal duty and lons of life. Every noble crown in, and on earth will forever be, a crown of thorns. Recollection is the only paradise from which we cannot Is; turned out* Whoever has a good work to do must let the devil's tongue run an it pleases. The noble passion, true love, con tains all the elements of self-sacrifice. Though we cannot control the wind w<- can adjust our sails so as to profic" by it. In prayer it is better to have a heart without words, than words without a heart. Words are the adulterated skirn milk of life, of which example is the pure eream. " One soweth and another reapeth,** is a verity that applies to ewl as w ell as good. Pain must enter into its glorified life of memory before it can turn into •-ompaasion. Charity oblige* us not to distrust a man ; prudence not to trust biiu before we know him. Virtue dwells at the head of a river, to which we cannot get but by rowing against the stream. Leisure is sweet to those who have l earned it. but burdensome to those who get it for nothing. Power turns a deaf ear to the nv proaehes of those who are powerless to redness their wrongs. God hears no more than the heart tp'-ak** and if the heart is dumb. God w ill certainly be deaf. An evil mind will le sure to put the' worst construction on another's actions; who can stand before envy? The Sweet Family. A eorresjKindent at Narragansett Pier, R. 1., writs* as follows: I have inci dentally mentioned Sugar Loaf hill- Almost at its base stands an old house associated with the Sweet family, the " natural bone-setters." Bone-set ting has lieen a sjeeialty with the family for more than a century. They have always been called natural" 1 .one-setters, but I have heard this tra dition touching the manner in which the gift was first acquired and then passed orailv from father to son. I >r. William Hunter w :g one of the most eminent surgeons of his day. He had held a commission as surgeon in the British army in England, and after his arrival in America lie joined the expedition against Crown Point as surgeon. One day a country man passed his office in Newport, and on looking in chanced to see a skeleton hanging in its case. Pausing a mo ment. he said to the defect in your anatomical preparation.** The doctor on looking up and seeing an uncouth-100 ng fellow at the door, smiled as he asked, " Wherein is it wanting?" "Ota, you may laugh," said the countryman, "but one of those 1 sines in that hand is out of place." The doctor looked and said: " You are right; now tell me how it is , that you know anything of anatomy." •'.Some day, doctor, you will be called to Narragansett ; when there stop at the door of Job Sweet, and I'll show you." Not long after the doctor was called to Point Judith, and before he returned he called on Sweet, who placed lief ore him a large folio volume of anatomical plates engraved in a supcrh manner. The doctor looked at the volume with surprise as he said: "Where did you get it ?" " Some years ago." said the bone-setter, " a vessel went to pieces on Point Judith. Many persons vis ited the scene of the wreck, I among the numlier. and there I picked up volume, which had floated ashore. I could not read it (it was in French.) but became ahsorbed in the prints, made them a study, put the informa tion so acquired to practice as oppor tunity afforded, and if I did not un derstand the text, 1 think I know all about the plates." Thia incident was related to me by a descendant of Ir. Hunter, who had it from his ancestors. At the time of the bomluurdmffii of Alexandria there were published In that city three daily newspapers In the French language, two in Arabic, two in Italian, and one each in Greek and English. The largest circulation was about Ave thousand. Besides these® there were six weekly papers—two in French, two in Araldc, one in Italian and one In English. The paper hav ing the largest circulation in Egypt was probably Kgyptum rents, the government organ, printed in Cairo, and circulating about ten Uweand copies.