SONG or TIME
How worn a tlitouc is that of time!
Thei/why do I begin to rhyme
Upon it now t
Because to night the nir i* filled
With voices tlint will not bo Milled—
Thoy will not cease.
And alwayi sing tin same rcfraiu
Of Time that ne'er will come attain,
Of Time that lliee.
Of all that Time sweep* in it* flight
The voice* sing to mo to-night.
Time cures all care.
That i* what I would fain believe,
My heart therewith I do deceive,
With faith in Time.
Oh, voices singing, lie you mute,
Yon touch a chord on my heart's lute
liut seldom played;
Yet tilling all the nir arouud
With a sweet melancholy sound.
A song of Time !
Of Time that was. of days so fair
When all was young, and love was there —
Ismg days ago!
Be still I he still that sad sefrain !
I dare not listen once again
To that same song 1
Maybe I hold those days too high,
And yield them far too oft a sigh,
Those days long since
Yet as they were the fairest yet
' If all my days, then why forgot
That happy timo ?
Though if it still should he my faith
To live yet happier days, the ilato
Of that sweet time.
I'll bury', then, within the grave
Which holds all things forgotten, save
The present time.
Nor heed a voice which whis|>ers low,
"The sweetest song is that you know
Of long ago."
Bo with the voices in the air
I mingled mine, and. 10. was thero
A song of Time.
HUMBLED BY ADVERSITY.
• After all," Celandine Ilellairs said,
as she leaned liack in her chair, her
slippered feet half-buried in the silky ,
pile of a white Angora rug. her dim
pled hands cl.asped carelessly upon her
head, "it was only a joke !"
Miss Ilellairs was a beauty—one of
those radiant blondes with complex
ions of snow and rose-bloom, liquid,
hazel eyes and hair of shining brown,
all interwoven with gold, whom Titian
ami Peter Paul Unbelts would have de
lighted to paint.
And being, withal, of an artist ic
temperament, she robed herself in pale
blue tissues, cream-white nun's veil
ing and folds of Spanish ldonde. with
here a deep-colored riblon, there a
spray of blood-red roses—a perfect
carnival of color, on which the eye
restsl with unconscious delight.
Mrs. Hatfield s.K opposite, the pale,
plain married sister who had all her
life served as a sort <vf foil to brilliant
Celandine. Mrs. Hatfield was a widow,
and therefore she dressed in black ;
she was poor, and therefore the crapes
were rusty and the l*>mhuzinn shabby
Cdandint, tin- child of her
second marriage, was one of
; she herself, poor soul.
content to be a chrysa-
nothing more.
Ha joke?" said Mrs. Hatfield, re-
"Celandine, I think you
wilder and more irresponsible
day ! What do you stipjrfise he
;
Probably congratulating him elf
his escape," said Celandine, with
laugh ; "for it is an escape, if only
lie knew it."
W " But he loved you. Celandine."
■ The l>eauty shrugged her shoulders.
" Men don't die of 1 >ve in this nine-
century," said she. "And I'm
sure he never could have supposed
that I was going marching around the
world after a half-starved army regi.
inent, living upon a lieutenant's pay I"
" Then you shouldn't have allow ed
him to become engaged to you."
" I knew I could always get rid of
him when I pleased," said the hazel
eyed coquet. " And he was the hand
somest tnan at the Blue Sulphur
.Springs; and it was rather amusing to
get him away from all the girLs here
and firing him an humble slave to my
r harlot-wheels."
" But, Celandine, stop and think,"
pleaded Mrs. Hatfield, who w as, in her
humble way, a sort of second conscience
to her beautiful half-sister. "If you
read this thing in a novel, you would
think it a cruel and wicked thing. To
deliberately lay yourself out to charm
and attract this young officer to win
r 111 in to a declaration of love, to accept
him and use his ring—"
" And a very pretty ring it is, too!"
murmured Celandine, dreamily, glanc
ing down at the Hash of the diamond
on her tapering flng er.
"To plan to go with him to a picnic
the very next day, and then deliber
ately, during his temporary ataence, to
take the train and go away, leaving
neither message nor address! Alt,
Celandine, think of it!"
"It was time the thing wai
brought 11 an end," said Ci lan line,
iompo*"dly; "and 1 was tired to death
i
of the Blue Sulphur Springs—and of
Lieutenant Krkskine!''
"Celandine," cried Mrs. Hart Held,
"what on earth do you suppose lie
thinks of ymi ?"
" I am sure I don't know," said the
main-skinned blonde, in art accent
which distinctly implie I. " and I don't
care, either."
" Don't you think you ought to
write ?" hesitatingly questioned Mrs.
Hatfield.
"Write? What on earth should I
write for?" scornfully cried Celandine.
••The affair is over with, and it is a
good thing that it is. Do let it rest in
its grave. 1 shall write its epituph in
mv diary, • Flirtation No. 1001 came
to a natural end July 1, 18—.' And 1
do not suppose that I shall ever think
of it again."
So Miss Ilellairs and her sister went
to New York, rene wed their toilets,
took a trip to the wave washed rocks
of old Witch Hill, listened to the roar
of the surf and the merry clash of the
band at Newport, and then came home,
sated with summer raptures, to Phila
delphia.
Came home to discover, to their in
finite chagrin and dismay, that the
silver-haired old gentleman who had
been Celandine's guardian and adviser
since her father's death, had practiced
on her the same extremely skillful de
vice which she ha I so enjoyed at the
Blue Sulphur Springs, and had disap
peared. having no trace behind, except
ruined erislit, an empty exchequer*
and a whole ream of penitential con
fessions, in letter shape.
" What am 1 to do?" said Celandine
turning wit It a pale, frightened face
to Mrs. Hatlield.
And that lady, never very prompt
at an emergency, answered only with
a lit of inopportune hysterics.
There [are fortunately a number of
ways, now that the world is growing
wiser and more tolerant in which a
I woman ran earn her bread, and f>>
j these, in hapless sure-vdon. Celandine
ilellairs turned her attention.
Mrs. Moneyland, one of Iter ri< h
friends, wanted a companion.
"To be like my own daughter," said
that lady, all fat, self-satisfied smiles.
And Celandine rashly Isdievcd that
all toil and trial were at an end now.
liut at a month's end p or Celandine
resigned le-r position.
" I am sure I don't know how you
could easily secure an easier position,"
said Mr*. Mono;bind, bridling up.
"An ample salary and really nothing
to do bllt to solai e rny loTu lltll
" •*, I know," said Celandine.
" But nob H|V could endure being
j called tip at d o'clock in the [morning
to r* ad aloud to you, to mend loee all
the afternoon and sujierintt-nd ser
vants all the morning; to st stead
fastly in the house, for fi ar that I
i might Is* wanted, and to lose night
after night of rest taking care of m
valid skyc terriers and sick parrots.
Washing or scrubbing would probably
U* harder work, but it would alway R
come to an end ''
"You are an ungrateful young viper!'*
sobbed Mrs. Moneyland. " When you
know, too, how w ell your voice suited
me. anil how dear (lypsy.the dog, liked
your ways!"
Celandine tried a position as a tele
graph operator ne\t ami faibd. Tele
graphing r< quired practice and nerve,
and p<*nr Celandine had neither.
she took in bead-work and fine em
broidery and broke hopeless down at
the end of a week.
Mrs. Hatlield, who had accepted
Situation as housekeeper ill ,i gentle
man's family, viewed her poor little
sister's succ 'ssivc failures with dis
may.
" I'm sure, Celandine," said she, " I
don't know what is to become of vou!
Couldn't you get in sotncwhere ( 'as shop,
girl or lady attendant in s one furnish
ing emporium, or— '*
"1 do not think I could endure the
fatigue," said Celandine, faintly.
" Poor folks can't afford to be too
particular," said Mrs. Hatfield, pursing
her lips.
But just about this time Mrs
I Bridgehy, the fat and comfortable pre.
eeptress in whose "institute" ('elan- 1
dine Bellair* and her sister had lieen
educated, lost her English governess
and graciously consented to allow Misi
BcUairs to fill the vacancy at a merely
nominal salary.
"Just until something else should
turn tip, you know, my dear," said
Mrs. Bridgehy, smilingly.
And here, for two mortal years,
Celandine drudged on, wearing out
soul and liody alike in the wretched
servitude of an unloving task.
For Celandine was one of those (
nervous, sensitive creatures, who are
the least adapted to teaching of all
conceivable professions.
And yet life, insipid thoufth it was, i
must be purchased on some terms; and
tie*girl went mechanically through her
task-work like some automaton, day
after day, week after week, month j
after month.
'! ITnti!, one day, a gleam of possible
j deli verance apjieared on tho horizon.
'■ Mrs. waddled into tho room
and announced that a governess was
j wanted at Lisle Tower, on the very
■ edge of the Adirondack)*.
"And of course, my dear," said
| Mrs. Hridgeby, " I recommend you at
j once. Five hundred dollars a year,
1 { only one little girl to educate and
amuse, and delightful country air. My
! dear, it's a chance in a thousand. An
I officer's lady— Stay! where is the
| card? 1 declare, I thought I had it in
'| my pocket. I must have dropped it
somewhere. Hut the address is I.islo
'Tower, near Caldwell, Lake tleorge.
j You're to take the ears to Caldwell,
and there you are to he met with a
j carriage. And here's your ear-ticket,
i ail! bought and paid for."
Si Celandine, much rejoicing, was
, borne out of the atmosphere of scho
lastic toil into a newer, brighter world,
ami alighted oil the shore of blue,
beautiful Lake tjeorge in the gloaming
i of a soft summer evening.
The carriage was there, waiting—a
dark, wine-colored landeau, drawn by
pram ing black horscs.all glittering with
plated harness, in which sat a lovely
j little girl and a handsome young hru.
m tte of two or three and twenty.
" This is your little pupil. Miss Ilel
! lairs," said she "my daughter, Irene
Krskina. lam Mrs. Krskine, and I
hope that we shall be ttie best of
friends. My husband is a lieutenant
in the army, s > that I am necessarily
i much at home, and your society will be
i ttie greatest of all boons to me."
I Celandine felt sick and giddy. The
' I blue lulls that surrounded the lake
soeincd to swim around her. The
i golden sunshine became a* blue before
1 her eyes. Had the idiotic folly of her
butterfly days then found her out ?
Was she going to Charlton Krskine's
very home, a dependent and a drudge_
ito work out the recompense of her
sins? Ah, how hard it was to smile
' and say "y-s" and "no" as pretty
young Mrs. Krskine chattered on '
Yet it was not altogether the shame
and the keen mortification which
stung her so keenly. .She knew now
she had known, alas'— that Charlton
Krskine's image had ls-en tenderly
cherished in her heart all these years.
I She hail flung him away like a
broken toy in the insolent triumph of
1 her beauty, and now she knew that
she lov o| him '
r j A circular, stone tower, rising up
against tie- dark liembx k WSMMIS ; I mg
low wings, w here the welcoming lights
' twiukh-il brightly ; critus n. baize
lin-sl doors throw n oj„<n, and • <l.in-line
I entered, licr cy.-s bhndi-d by the s .ft
glow of i umlb
. 1 "It's the .new governess. Charlie.''
[ slid Mrs. Krskine; and then, in in
aside "The prettiest creature you
ever s.aw, and with the pretti<-st nanus
to" Miss Celandine Ib-llairs."
And tlu-n, to her hrrror. Celandine
found herself face to 4 face with Lieu
tenant Krskine himself, the old lover
. she ha | know nso long ago !
i "My engaged wife he said, hold-
I ing out I sit h hands, with a smile not
I entirely devoid of mischief. "Celan
dine. why did you run away from me
. four years ago'.'"
With a throbbing h art slu* toied to
• draw aw ay ln-r hand,
i " You are Mrs Krskine's husband !"
said she. " Let rne go- for heaven's
sake, b t me g ■!"
" I am not Mrs. Krskine's husband."
k said lie. "The Mrs. Krskine dot 4 not
live who has any < I aims on me!"
"Then wlnis this lady?" said Ce
landine, scarcely crediting her ears.
"1 am Mrs. Lieutenant Krskine."
said the pretty brunette. "My hus
band is in Arizona. This gentleman
is my brother-in-law. Colonel Krskine,
who has just arrived from Washing
ton. And now. dear Miss Hellairs,
come upstairs, and let them bring you
some tea, for I arn sure you must be
, fainting from fatigue !"
Hut the radiant Lie.- which Celandine
turned toward her disabused her from
the idea.
"I don't think I shall ever he tired
again !" said Celandine, softly.
"One minute, dearest!" Colonel
Krskine whispered, as his sister-in-law
1 delivered little Lilian into the care of
the plump French nurse. "You arc
still my engaged wife? Say that you
arc J"
"Oh, Charlton." she cried, " I do not
deserve, after the cruel way in which
! I have treated you, that you should
ever speak to me again !"
" I love you. Celandine," he sakl.
simply—" I have always loved you !"
•*. Kven when I went away from the 1
Hlue Sulphur Springs?"
" Yes, even then."
She put her hand in his, with ineff
able tenderness in her eyes.
" And I." said she, "have alwavs
loved you, Charlton, although 1 discov
ered it too late."
"Not too late. Celandine," said he
*
■ " Heaven is more inercltui to us than
. our deserts."
And so, in the pinc-seented shadows
i of the Adirondacks, Celandine Hel
lairs si>lvcd the riddle of her life and
discovered the secret of her own heart.
Coats of Arms and Seals.
New York has a "College of Iler
-1 aldry," which does a good business in
! supplying coats of arms to people de
-1 sirous of creating the impression
that they are descended from aristo
-1 eratie ancestors. A New York corre
spondent says of this growing prae
' tiee: I inquired of an outsider who
■ knows tho college of heraldry well,
■ and he told me of the modus operandi.
1 Tho clerks for professors) of this col
• | lege can tell any man all about the
past glories of his family. They can
i discover people's forefathers in no
time. The Norman line and the Saxon
. kind's, and the Welch nobility and the
, ! Scottish lairds- everything is at tln-ir
; linger ends. Their acquirements are
I wonderful in tinctures, the dex
i ter ami sinister chiefs, fess
' and nomhril, bends, chevrons
i salt ires, nebulv, ragulv and
■lancetto and gules of every color. It
- is noticeable that the people who talk
most about their family and high birth
and lofty breeding are those who have
' i inherited their money from imlustri m*
I fathers, and are ashamed to have it
i known that their ancestors worked. A
- Coat of arnii in supposed to say to the
' world. "We have never earned a
• lar in our life, and our father never
earned a dollar; the money on which
we live w is beqii'-at lied to us by an an.
cestor, wli i was one of the most illus
' . trious robbers iri Kurope."
The correspondent aLso dropped in
to see a well-known engraver on stone
to inquire about seals. "Oh, yes,"
' sail] the propriet ir, " I engrave thou
. sands of escutcheons on orgs every
year, m stlv for gentlemen. What
they wear them for I don't know, they
never stamp letters with them of
course. It is what liarwin or Jj>encer
would call 'a survival,' I suppose, snr
-1 vival of a habit that was once reason
aide and useful. When people want
1 to know what their out of arms is, or
want it engraved on a stone,they gen
erally apply to a j'-w • l-r and the jeweler
1 sends to us."
Sal rings are mostly of sard invx
amethyst an I topaz, and the engraving
is done with a lathe, a pedal turning a
1 little shaft of soft iron, whose sh.irp
f erosl end has liecn blunted to a small
• disk. The stone is held to the edge of
this w liirhng disk, w he It has been Wet
w th olive oil i ont an ing ilia mom I dust.
' Much ..f the engraving i- so line as to
I*' illegible without the aid of a strong
' glass
Home Isioks.
Many people have a set of honu
looks wluch they regularly put on
, when almut home, the same as they
. put on their comnion clotlies. With
r some it is a care-worn look; with other*
a complaining expression; with mm*
a sickly appearance, as if they were
t caving in; and with not a few it is an
ugly, cross visage. When some neigh
bor happens to come in or when they
put on their goo 1 clothes and go out
you would not know them if you had
become acquainted with them when
. wearing their home looks. Now. what
' we have to say as hygienist.s on the
subject is that it is not healthy to
wear such expressions. They cer
tainly affect not only the health of the
1 wearers, but of the other mem Iters of
the family. They are especially <!<*• <
" pressing to children. If worn bv a
husliand, to aw ife they are agonizing;
if worn by the wife they make the
husband feel as if he did not care to
1 hurry home. Our outside admirers,
■ our gixtd neighlxtrs and others are
entitled to no better facial expressions
• than our home people. If we must in
1 some instances change our clothes for
economy's sake, let lis not change
w hat does not cost anything—a cheer
ful countenance. Tarry that home; at
1 home preserve it, goto lied with it;
get up with it; gather the family
around the table with it. It is a good
tonic for self and everylxuly.—/>r-
Foote's Monthly.
Indians Sever Kill a Defiant Man.
" Indians are like children," said Mr.
Kirkpatrick, in recounting his adven- j
tsires to a reporter of the Philadelphia
Time*. "If you gain their confidence
you can do what you please with them.
I never made a promise to an Indian
that I did not keep, and so 1 made
plenty of friends among the tribes,
i They^llko bravery, and w ill not hurt I
' a man who shows no fear when over- '
! powered. When the Indians get you 1
in a corner, if you stand up and hare i
your breast, and tell them to shoot,
! they will never <l* it. I have had to
do that twice In my life, and so spea';
from experience; hut I never knew
them to kill a prisoner who defied
them."
LADIES' DBPAMIHT.
IVrftlnu rl< brork.
Old-fashioned patchwork in which
our grunditi others delighted is flic sul
jeet of a new departure. This novel
patchwork is made by cutting fotinda
l thin squares of muslin, all the name
size, and arranging upon them odds
and ends of silk >r ribbon, plush or
velvet, in any way the maker pleases,
basting tliein in position, and then
joining them together with feather
stitch in gold-colored tiloselle. The
squares when completed are joined t'e
gether in the same way, and the result
is a harmonious confusion of colors
which has quite an Kasteru effect.
Ilrtler l.nli Thnn
Kightccn years ago Miss .Jennie Ari
lrews and Mr. Alexander Mcflregor,
if Macon, (la., were engaged to be
married. Hut they had a lover's tiff
and separate!. Shu married Mr. ('tiarb-s
Boss anil went to Texas, and he mar
ried, it matters not whom. In live
y ears Hoss died and the idow re
turned to Macon, and after some time
married Mr. I.avarre. Sv< n years
iater I.avarre was killed. In the mean
time M' Lrcg, r had become aw idower.
Within the past few months he
chanced to met in the streets of Ma
con the sweetheart of eighteen years
ago, and though they hud not met for
years the recognition was mutual. The
old flame was rekindled, and one Sun
day morning recently a minister was
called ii|Min to perform the marriage
ceremony.
Nrvffff rt ml Notes for OMfl.
America. Miss Kiiiilv Faithful says i
is far ahead <d the old world in ex
tending the field of wurk and educa
tion for women.
I
There are 2o,is"i working women in
Boston over fifteen years of age; their
average earnings are four dollars per
week; and their Uiard averages three
dollars and a lulf p r week.
Kinhroiderv may have said to have
broken out in a fresh place, for cover
ing toilets are now completely covered
with a mass of embroidery that, in
some instaic es, represents the lals.r of
a lifetime.
Ttierc are four ladies now living in
Cincinnati, o;yh of whom have lml,
of hair cut from the lo ad of the Prince
of Wales, while h" was visiting that
ity in 1 There was a great d.-ai
> of anxiety at that time to obtain reli< s
of this prince, and the enterprising
' barUv wlio shaved to- royal head
nctbsl some s7<> over and above the
HI lie wa-> ] i -I by the j>r:n■ e.
Mr*. A. T. Stewart's elegant man
sion in New York, which was erected
at a cost of Jl.<hm i, serins to !•
more of a burden than a pleasure Puts
mistres*. Living alone in the midst
of an army <>f servants, she is said to
he in constant dread of being stolen by
ruffians and held for ransom, and the
threatening and begging letters which
she receives do not make lor existence
more agree aide.
Philadelphia has a young woman's
home on Clinton street which has run
successfully for ten years, and now
has forty-five inmates. Clerks, tele
phone operators, copyists and the like
live there, pay 11 a week for board,
washing, lire, lights and medical at
tendance, with use of parlors, library
and sewing ma< bines. All this money
is spent on the table and a few inci
-1 entails, so that considerable gif's are
necessary to keep the institution run
ning.
♦ I'nsMon Nolra.
Holies of sateen appear among the
new goods.
Checks and plaids are the features of
•(■ring silks,
i New shades of red are delf, sultan
and Hussia leather red.
The new muslins are soft finished,
without any starch or size.
Ashes of roses has made its apjiear
ance among the irsthetic colors.
Very wide sashes of .■esthetic riblion
are to be revived for the summer.
Kolie dresaeu with embroidered
flounces appear among spring importa
tions.
Birds and fruits form a part of the
I design of many of the dressiest nat
( eens.
Buttercups and blackberries are the
latest Parisian combination for bou
quet s.
Treat quantities of natural or arti
ficial flowers are worn on ball
toilets.
The feature in new polka-dotted
I cotton dress goods Is the large size and
j close proxiftolty of the dots,
j The draperies are much hunched
I around the hips, and even below that
j point by some dressmakers
Extremely pretty embroidered silk, i
muslins, rra|>es and gauzes are em
ployed for evening and ball dresses.
Sprays of flowers, l>e.utifully Imi
tated in precious stones, are taking,
|as brooch#*, the place of the hideoua
i insects no long in favor.
A new brooch represents three owls
on a perch, and another i* a basket of
Mowers ; the basket being gold and the
I flowers turquoise forget-me-nots.
Crimped frills of tinted crape set.
against standing, lightly-gathered
ruflles of oriental lace,are worn inside
the neck and sleeves of evening
I dresses.
New French hats are triirwrnyl with
narrow braid embroidery. Of course,
1 in this case the hat must match the
dr<*sin material and color, the crown
is plaited and the smooth brim has a
narrow border.
Chain bracelets of India designs,
marie of yellow gold, are in great
, favor, and bangle bracelet* of gold
wire as tine as thread, several
. being worn at one time, arc likewise
highly popular.
Cushions for deep cane chairs are
. made of tuftwl plush or satin, and as
an accompaniment a strip of the same
. material and color is embroidered a* a
. scarf lor the back and finished off with
deep fringe, which is generally of rich
i quality.
liraiding is to become popular again.
. 1 Hounded soutache will Is- us<l, as the
, i designs can be executed in raised work
by .ts use. It is easy to give Eastern
. effects by carrying out a free design
. upon muslin, scrim or tlnn materials
, of any kind.
At a private party for little
folk.", in New York, a small
boy wore a long coat of ruby vel
vet and satiri trousers to match;
• vest of white satin with gold buttons ;
shoes of ruby satin covered stockings
of white silk.
i Tortoiseshell ornaments f r the hair
are now very fashionable, especially
the clear amber sort in different shapes.
The most Is-coming and the favorit#*
are the hairpins with small bail* at the
top, two or three l*ing used to orna
• mi nt the hair on one side.
Articles of dress as well as mantle*,
' | hats and muffs made of material to
j match the costume are n w trimmed
! with handsome bows. Large and
small fur collars are fastened with
1 | long ribbon*, and muffs are often to le
sun with l>owqi to match, in the middle
or on lxit.li sides.
Mystery of Missing Men.
fne of th" left men I ever knew
1 hep a man of sixty-five years, who
loved his lmme and family dearly, and
| who had no reason for eccentricity—
slipped away . ne afternoon, went to
I 1! -t ti and then to Washington, and
, for two years drove a car there, re
, maining awii because he thought his
wife would manage h.s affairs better
, without him. He never intended to
return but was seen by chance, arrested
as a lunatic and given his ohoice to bo
confin<sl in an asylum or to do his
duty as a man. He came l>ark, and.
after two happy years at home, died
in his wife's arms. In another case
that I remember, a gentleman was
supj* sed to have committed suicide by
jumping from a steamboat. His wife
made no fuss, but kept the matter
quiet, because she alone never gave up
the idea that his suicide was a sham*
and for three years she hunted him
down, and finally restored liira to his
home and business. A third of
which I had personal knowledge was
that of a dry goods merchant who was
absent twenty years, and who returned
I wealthy, made himself known to his
wife, who had been married in the
meantime, sought out his son and
gave him #lO,OOO, and then went his
way as he had come. He said he had
left home because he wanted to ; had
not married or rar*l for another home ,
and liked the life of a wanderer much
better than any domestic ties. These
instances go to show that the case of
alleged mysterious disappearance may
sometimes be accounted for without
. any necessity of presupposing rob
bery mid murder.— Philadelphia He
ford.
Public Letter-Writer*.
One street sight that interests me
specially. says a Home (Italy) letter, ia
the public letter-writer, who still plies
his trade as in the old, old days of
which I read so long ago. 1 had quite
I forgotten there were such people, hut
( one morning as we were trying to find
a short cut to the l'antheon. we came
suddenly into a qniet little open square
round which were established seven
men, each with his table and writing
materials, waiting for customers. Of
course I insisted on waiting to MW
whether people did really engage In
this vicarious style of correspondence,
and 1 was quickly gratified by the ar
rival at one table of an agr-d woman,
and at another of a young girl, who
gave the scrilie their sentiments and
their soldi, and sat watching his slow
moving lingers with evident satisfac
tion.