A Mother's Song. The days are dark and dreary, a went. And lUroalnning clouds k° '• V; My eyes have grown aweary, swSet, Of gasing at the sky; Ot gating at the sky, my swont, Where uovor it star .loth tiso; Though hope should hide in thu outward tide, Let me find it in thy oyne, O swont! Let me And it in thine ny<~ My heart hath grown aweary, swont, Of a race that shows no goal; And the pnseing hours strike dreary, sweet, To a desolate humun soul. Did I say desolate, sweet, iny sweet. Nay, never while I have tiioe, Though tho sinews stnrt in my aching heart, And reasou itself should lire, my sweet! Aud reason itsolf should tloc. Cling closer, ay, closer, O sweet, my sweet! Thy pressure doth case my pain, And I jotirncv with steadfast feet, my sweet. Up tho pathway of life again,— Content to fliul in thy grasping hands, And tho dew ol thy dawning kiss, A beacon to lure me through sunless lands, If lifo promised no moio than this, O sweet! Ii liie promised no more than this. H'illtnm Hijjt. Mr. Marigold's Mistake. "I shan't marry him," declared Meg decidedly, while she twisted her back ( hair up in a tawny knot on the top of I her head. Meg's elder sister and sister-in-law looked decided disapproval at their relative's refractory announcement. "You know, Meg, dear," began Mrs. Joe, the eldest brother's wife, hut Meg cut her short in decided tones. "Yes, I know all you can tell me, and more too. I know I'm an old maid"—she was twenty-five—"and I know you are all too |oor to support me, and too proud to let me support myself. Hut for all that I shan't marry Simon Marigold if he is as rich as cream and 1 as poor as Job's turkey, so there, now." And Meg tlouneed out to weed the carrot bed, while the discomforted relatives shook their heads more disapprovingly still, and made comments on the otatinary of human nature in general and some < folks in particular. "Site's a throwing away her best chance," declared Mrs. JIM; mournfully. "Simon Marigold Is a ketch for any body," asserted Sister Jane, "with that big farm of Ids. Such a g-l per vider as he is, too." "But if she don't love him, you know," ventured Mrs. Archibald, the youngest sister, who was suspected of being romantic. "Fiddlesticks," declared Mrs. Joe emphatically. "Folks can't livo on love, and if Meg throws away sich a chance of being settled comfortable she'll iiv jto rue it. That's all 1 kin say.'' "Now, look a here, gals." Grandma Larkins came down from the attic with a hank of blue dyed yarn, which she proceeded to wind into a ball "Jest let M.-g alone and I'll promise it will all come right in the end. Gals of her age often docs hev them ijuare notions, hut she'll git over Yin hime-hy- The girl kind o' fancies she likes some one else better'an Simon, but j< st leave her alone'an -he'll get over it and settle down with him on the Mari gold farm as comfortable as two pea in a pod." In tin- meantime M. g was still at work iri the garden, diligently pulling the weeds in the i arrot bed. It might have been that she had no other time to weed carets, and it might also have been that Eben Hooiittle had no other way of getting home, except by Un well-worn cattle path, which led past Grandma I.arkins' k.trhen garden and around to the pasture bars. At al' events, he --*>n came sauntering by and leaned on the gate jtost for a chat "And to think." said .Meg to herself, when he had auntered on, v\ ith a freshly-plucked r- e in his button lu le "to think of my marrying Siuon Mar! Igold." Alas. p'>or Simon! lie was not pale and intellc. tual with a developing moustache and violet eyes. He never scented his handkerchief with extract of pond Illy, i, r wore buff kids, nor carried a can far I rum it. .Simon Marigold was broad shoul dered ami sun timed. And his ews, though clear and honed, were unde niably grey "(Hi, n i," thought Meg. blushing up to the roots of her very frizzy bangs, "I rouhJ nexr-r.*never luarry hint." As the days sped on Grandma Lar kins began to look worried, an 1 to )o->e a little faith in hi r own predictions. "Ef it wan t fur that there thiillcss Doolittle," she sighed, "a comln' here ail the aime an' a drummin' on his catarrh she might take Simon Marigold yet." *••♦ * * * "Well, Eben." Mr. Marigold gave one or two broad sweeps with his sex the among tho red clover he was rutting, then hung tho glistening hlado on a stubby persim mon tree, a.id turned with a heated face toward his cousin. Eben Doolittle ww not heatcx.!. llin summer coat looked cool and light, and his white pocket handkerchief was heavily scented with pond lily. "I 'npo.se you want that money," said j Mr. Marigold, and drawing out his leather jKwket-hook, he counted out ] one hundred dollars in crisp hunk hills, j and handed them to his cousin. "1 'spose it's all settled, Eben," he said anxiously. Ebon's placid features showed no anxiety nor cure whatever. "Well, no." lie coolly put the hank hills in his poeket-ltook before ho condescended to explain further. "1 haven't asked her yet, because I j wanted to get the money Ilrst. A fel low don't like to get married without a cent in his pocket." "You are sure she'll be all—oil right?" "Oh, of course." Ebon was shoul dering the light gun he carried, get ting ready to start. "Of course it'll be all right. She'll drop into my arms | like a rare, ripe peach when I ask j her." Mr. Marigold's gray eyes shot a gleam of disapproval at his nonchal- I ant cousin. "Well, Eben, I wouldn't talk that way of the woman 1 loved," he said gravely. "I would Is- so proud of her love 1 would hardly dare to own it, even to myself." Eben laughed, but made no answer. "You needn't mind paying that money back," added Simon, as he t>k his scythe from the tree, "if you'll only try to make Meg happy and com fortable, but don't don't expect me to come to the wedding, Eben, for I— really I couldn't." "All right," returned his cousin carelessly. And Simon Marigold turned to his mowing, while Eben stalk>sl ofl across the meadow with his gun slight'.y swung over his sbouhbr. *** "Simon." The iluttering grape vine screen that overhung the fence and the low j>er siiiitnon tree was put aside and Meg I.arkins, blushing like a dune rose, stepped out. The astonished mower gazed as if petrified. • oh, Simon, I heard all—all you said," she exclaimed, with tears brim ming in her soft, brown eyes, "Grand rtia sent me to pick dcwlerries." she t* ntinued, and I want to tell you that I'm not going to marry Eln Hooiittle. lieeause I don't love him," and she Mushed like one ■ f the trmn|>- et vine's scarlet hells, that had dropjitsl on the cnu raid turf at her feet. "Meg." v iin< II came tow ards her with a new light shining in his honest, brow n eyes. "Oh, Meg, do you—could y u love me?" "Ami with dro-iping eyes and tears still in tbeui, Meg said she e.uld and did. • * • • * "Ib>w nice it i-." said Mrs. Joe. as she wh ski.] the eggs for the wedding cake, "Ilow nic<- that Meg is really going to mam a man of proj>erty af ter all." "And a real love match, too," <hin e l Mrs. Archibald, with that sim ple philosophy which considers love and romance of more value than all the diamonds of (iolronda or the fabled wealth of "Orinus and of Ind." "Will, I si— how 'twas a gwine to turn out long ago." put in Grandma I.arkins complacently, turning the In | of the blue yarn sock she was knitting "I alius said 'twould coine all right in in the end, but think, me a sending Meg over to the Marigold pasture to pick bluelierries hcl|H| it along some." Anil perhaps it did: Fate is not ntsve using bluelierries as a means now-a-days at least, litUn M. Clark in SL I,'tiiin Moyazltw. Tile I'onnllj. "Father," observed Melanrthon Mar row fat to the old gentleman one even ing after his mother hail gone out of the room, "I've liecn reading a good deal about, panics lately, and it seems to me that many of them might be avoid* d." "There's millions in It if you can tell how, my l>y," said Mr. M., shak ing his In ad as if the problem were utterly incapable of solution. "All it needs Is." continued Melanr thon, "for women to be brave." "Ilut they ain't brave," remarked his father firmly, "and how arc you going 'o make them so?" "Easy enough," returned the Inge nious lad. "(live thein mice for pots when they are children.— Brooklyn lingle. Sea shells and crawfish are to he found on the top of Lookout moun tain, In the northeastern part of Yava pai county, Arizona THE AURICCLTIKAL EDITOR. How lyk I'nrlmut Conducud " Tht Knrmrr'i t'rlollU." Orltflual Views 011 KullM*. Dyke Fortescuo rambled Into the office of an agricultural newspaper pulAisheil in the interest of rural read ers, and named the Farmer's Friend ami Culticator's Champion. liyke was fresh from Denver, where he had been doing local work on a daily. lie wanted a situation—he wanted it badly, and lie soon closed a bargain witii the proprietor of the Farmer's Frit nd ami Cul tint tors' Champion. The proprietor intended to he absent for two weeks, and Dyke undertook to hold the journal's head steadily up stream until his return. "You will receive sonic visitors, quite likely," said the proprietor " Entertain 'em. Entertain 'em in a manner which will relied credit on the paper. They will want to talk stock, farming, horticulture, etc., you know. <ii\c it to 'em strong." Dyke liowcil, borrowed a half dollar, got a dean shave, and soon returned to face tin- music and edit the iirst agricultural journal with which lie hud ever IM-CII connected. " I feel that, with my journalistic experience, it will bo just fun to run an agricultural paper," suid Dyke to himself. At 2 oclock p. m. the lirst visitor showed up at the door of the office, ami Dyke cordially invited him inside. The farmer entered hesitatingly, and remarked that he hud expected to meet the proprietor, with whom lie had an appointment to discuss ensilago. "I am in charge of the journal," said Dyke. "Oh you are. Well, you seem to have a pretty clean office here." " Yes," replied Dyke. "But about this ensilage. Ensilage is a pretty good breed, isn't it?" Bres!!" exdalmcd the farmer " why—" " I mean it's a sure crop; something that you can rely "Crop! Why its isn't a crop at all." " Yes, yes, I know it isn't a crop,'* said Dyke, perspiring until his collar began to melt away down the back of bis neck, "but you -an do better and cleaner work with a g'>d. sharp ensi lage ->n stubby ground, than " "Take it for a sulky plow, do you?" "No.no,' said Dyke. "You don't s-s-ni to understand mo. Now, if a farmer bail la an ensilage on low gn iund —" " Builds an ensilage! You sr-em to have g-.t the thing mixisl up with some kind of a granary." " I'shaw, n-'," continued Dyke. "I must make myself plainer. You seo this ensilage properly mixisl with one part guano, and three parts hypophns phate of antimony, with the addition of a little I ran and tan bark, and the whole flavored with chloride -f lime, iiiak<-s a top dressing for strawberry tssts which •" " Why, ■ nsilago isn't n > manure." "No. certainly not." said Dyke, " I know it is often ase-1 in that way- You don't catch my drift. When I s i 1 top dressing I meant turkey dross ing stuffing, you know for thanks giving "tt-ol Heavens, man! Ensilage isn't a human f->-> 1!" " No, not a human fond exactly," sai l po >r Dyke, grinning like an alms house idiot "It isn't a f-*xl at all. in the true sense of the word. My plan has always been to lasso the hog with a trace chain and after pinning his ears bark with a c|oth--s pin. put the ensilage into his nose with a pair of tweezers. "My go>d lands! You don't use ensilage to ring logs." " I never believed myself that it should l>e used for that purpose, hut when v-iii want to ring hens, or young calves to keep them from sucking The farmer gravely shook his head. " Did you ever try ensilage on the hired girl ¥" said Dyke desperately, and winking like a bat at 11:30 a. in. The farmer slowly arose, and with some evidence of rheumatic twinges in his legs. " Young man," he said "you are a long ways from home, ain't you?" "Yes," replied Dyke, dropping his eyes beneath the stern glances of the farmer, "in my ancestral halls in England, sad-eyed retainers wearily watch and wait for my return." "(Jo home, young man, go home to your feudal castle, and while on your way acrosss the rolling deep, in use on the fact that ensilage is simply canned food for live stock -put up expressly for family use in a silo, which is noth ing less than an air-tight pit where corn stalks, grass, millet, clover, alfalfa and other gteen truck is preserved for winter use. as green and verdant as the sub-editor of the Farmers' Friend and Cultlrators' Champion." And Dyke Fortescue sighed as he remarked to himself; " There ain't so blamed much fun in running an agri cultural paper aa I thought"— Tsuras Siftlngt. LA HI US' DEPARTMENT l*w Nlylc f llaanlr* There is to be an entirely new style of beauty. The girls with the ruddy locks of the golden hair and the Saxon skin, that have held their sway so long will have to abdicate their throne to their dark-haired sisters. So fashion has decreed, anil when fashion has de creed a thing the result is as unalter able as a general election. To be in the fashion to-day you must have dark hair, dark blue eyes, not a particle of color and lips as red as the cherry- These rather varied requirements are to he met—with art. London Court Journal. Tin nir>. The true wife not only has the con fidence of her husband, hut the affairs under her personal supervision and ex clusive care flourish like a garden, says | a level headed writer. All things beau tiful spring from her touch, and he en- : joys the blessing of her tact without ; fully realizing how it comes. She loves the praise of her husband, she is feairous to he permitted to share his life-work, and his confidence is the only reward she seeks. She never overtaxes us income, for she knows how much it is, and she keeps within it. -She may lornetimes long for an increase of worldly goods, but she never reproaches Mm when he is diligent and docs his >wtt. I htvalrmia Woriluu. Not until the middle ages set in did women begin to take that station in life which the modern world has leen ' proud to accord them. The knights o Europe made a special business of pro tecting women, especially such as h;id j 10 natural protectors, and as a conse quence of this romantic employment ievoted a large share of their time to Love-making. Doubtless there have | jwn more extravagant fools than these cnights of mediaeval times, hut un fortunately history has not recorded j -ither the namesor the actions of such, ' ind we are. therefore, forced to take .he statement on faith, fine tells how ! le never sees his lady love's face with out criming himself; another hums tamps and tapers before the altar of die Virgin that his mistress' heart nay Is- softened ; another performs venance, and says a hundred masses a lay for the same laudable end. An chor has a vision of Cupid on horse back, I >OO ted and spurns I, with lance n rest; and still another represents the j Deity as the god of war, driving his j iloo.lv chariots over the hearts of the lutnan race. One turns preacher, and n a country pulpit recites the praises f his lady, the people mistaking liis ! rhapsoiiy for a hymn to the Virgin; >ne turns pilgrim and walks barefoot tnd bareheaded through l'.uropc; one ! -to sea; one thrcatenisl to bury ilnisi if .dive, anl another, or the ma/1- I' st or m.t devotisl of all. curses him. •df. wishes that he m iv fall from his ior*e and never rise, that his helmet nay wear a hole in his head, that his •ridle reins may he too long and hss itirrups t<vo short, that his horse may .rot forever, that he may ncv. r win at ( lice, that he may l---k like a sneak and run at the next battle like a coward if I lis lady l>e not the most beautiful ; woman in the world and he the most levoted lover. I'tihlon XalH Ited Is the rival of yellow this season. New York women make their own fashions. Coat sleeves to lie en regie must lie very tight American styles arc popular in Eu -1 rojiean citii-s. A late style of capote protrudes in a peak over the forehead. Open net ventilating corsets are Un kind for the hottest weather. The shell hat and the fan capote are the latest novelties in millinery. English styles are more |>pular than French with American women. The sunshades that have appeared are exrelingly gay in appearance. Shirred lioiinces and shirred draper ies appear on many new costumes. lilack velvet necklets are worn high alwut the throat and fastened by dia mond studs. Imported parasols are more and more elegant, and some have the handles studded with gems. "Spider webs" Is new and very thin material shot with color, and designed for summer dresses. Very pretty black lace fichus, large size, are furnished to wear with sum mer dresses in place of mantle*. Turks in bunches across the skirt in flounces, and in lengthwise rows on front breadths, are still In favor. Skull-crowned turlian bats, placed far back on the head, are atlll very fashionable for young ladies and girls- Black brocaded grenadine, with Urge velvet (lowers, makes a graceful basque ami draperies for plain grenadine skirts that have lace flounces. i'ins for securing hats are ornament ed with brilliants, horse-shoes and in sects, composed of pearls and less ex pensive precious stones, often artificial. Useful costumes of pepper-and-salt material are in favor among those who export to travel considerably. They are tailor-made, have very tight-iitting basques and plain skirts. Laced kid gloves have had their day, and now women of good taste have gone back to buttoned kids, which are the best, after all. They come in all ttie shades and colors, and with buttons enough for tire longest arm. The traveling cloak for young ladies' summer journeys is a cheviot New. market closely lilted from neck to f<ot, with checks of mingled ecru, garnet hrown and olive. There is a pointed hood with garnet silk lining. One of tin- handsomest Hack silk costumes yet diown ha-, a* the bottom of the short walking skirt, three gath ered flounces, and each flounce has three rows of narrow black velvet rib lion run on near the lower edge. White inulle morning dresses are made with a Watteau plait from the shoulders, and are trimmed across the front w itli alternate frills of lace and embroidery. Salmon or dark-blue changeable satin ribbons are tied in front in many bows. An English fashion, now prevailing to some extent, consists in wearing an epaulette of two loops and two ends of riblmn on the left shoulder of an even ing dr'-xa, and a ribbon bracelet aliove the elbow. A fancy buckle usually fastens )itb ornaments. Dressy liasques are cut open, in oval sbajie, below the throat, and finished off with a standing net collar em broidered with gold, silver or steel (•e.t ls. and male to project by fine, thread-like wires, and fastened by a diamond brooch, that represents but. tons. The sleeves arc of lace to the • llmw, with I leaded ruffles, and then are satin creves for epaulettes. How Needles are Made. From a lecture in I'aris on "Steel in Modern Times." by Mr. S. I'erissc, w< take the follow ing notes on the curious and interesting uis-lie manufa'taring Industry: The n<-e.llo. says Mr. I'erissc. passes through the hands of eighty workmen la-fore it is ready to deliver tc the trade; and if we take into con sideration that these articles oust at the very most only two dollars per thous and. on an average, we find that the eight thousand ojierations are remuner ated by the sum of twenty ei-nts. Owing to the progress cffecU-1 in the draw ing of st< > 1 into wire, cat stfj has been principally employed f->r some time past Formerly, in France and 'b-rmany. manufacturers us<-d ir<>n wire, which was converted into ste 1 during the f >urse of operation. The manner of manufacturing differs but little. At llorcettc. the centre of needle production "f the continent of Kurope, there are five series of operations m volved in the iiianufacture First, con version 'if the Wire into needb-s in the rough; sec ind. temjwring and anneal ing. third, p-fishing; fourth. softening of the |Milished neelles: fifth, putting up into packages. First, the conversion into netsllns in thorough Involves twenty operations, the principal ones of these lwinggaug i ing the wires, cleaning, reeling an 1 cutting into pieces of a length equal to two needles. Sharpening or jsunt* I ing is done by tncans of grindstones. Ily the aid of a leather thumlistall the workman holds fifty wires at a time. The latter becomes rsl hot by friction on the stone, and a constant stream of particles of steel and stone is thrown off. which formerly brought aliout phthisis in the workman after a time, hut the adoption of powerful ventilation has now remedied all that. After pointing the wire is cut in two, the head Is Hkttenisl. and it is then anneal <vL Then the eye is punchel in the head by means of a steel punch, the j ojieration living performed bv children i in less time than it takes to describe It. i other children "hole" the neisihw that is, remove the particles of steel detach ed by the punch. After this the heads are hollowed, s rted, and, when neces- I sary. cemented. Second, tempering and annealing of the raw product requires nine opera tions, but they are fierformed with lots of thirty-pounds weight, each contain ing more than three hundred thousand needles. Thinl, jHilUhing is the longest opera tion. although one million are polished at once. It requires five operations, each of which is repeated seven or eight times. The needles are put into rolling cylinders along with small hard stones and oil and colza. The stones gradually Iwcome crushed, and the friction of the particles during the motion of the rollers effects the polish. The last polish is performed with oil alone and coarse bran. Fourth, the sorting of the polished needles Involves five operations, and, after burnishing, which is a very deli cate and important process and that which gives the lustre, the needles undergo the last operation of being put up into packages. HUHHY HIDE HIIOEH. 4 Trl<l>* toy Whlrh the Poor ar* *wlnllt<l IHctplliiaa la K*ot Wear. "You newspaper fellows have ha/1 your whack at a great many frauds of the day, but you have thus far over looked the commonest and in some re* npects the meanest of all frauds, that in shoes. Why don't you expose it Y' The speaker was a middle-agpd man of natty dress, evidently a member of the era It known as commercial travelers, arid the one addressed a reporter for the Commercial. The latter, overlook ing the flippancy with which journal ists had been classed as "fellows," asked for plans and specifications as to frauds in shoes, and was enlightened in this wise: "it would take too much of your space to go into minute details as to how frauds are perpetrated on the purchaser of shoes, so numerous and ingenious are they. I will therefor® merely tell you ai/out some of the ordL nary ways of getting up cheap shoes of deceptive apjiearan< e. (lood leather of all kinds, as you are aware, costs money, and a great deal of it, in corn* parison with prices twenty-five years ago, and a great deal of ingenuity has been expended in devising methods for making n little of the tanners' product go a great way. Sole bather is the most costly of all, and naturally there is more fraud in the soles of shoes than in the uppers. In a great many of the cheajier grades of shoes now sold the soles consist of a very thin sheet of leather for the liottom, just enough to hold it together, and the space bet ween it and the so-called insole, which usual ly consists of a strip of muslin, is filled either with bather shavings pressed together or with common straw board The wearers of this kind of leather goods should always lie careful to avoid the shady side of the street, as dampness is ruinous to this sort of shoe, causing the biggest part of the sole to crumble to pieces. "The uppers, which the seller always assures the purchaser are genuine calf-skin, are split cow -hide, and w ear little if any lietter than the <>IPS. The heels are in strut keeping with the ! other parts, consisting of a thin outer r:m of leather and a slender lKittom of the same material, the remainder lieing made up of scrap bather. Half the ready-made shoes worn in I'itts- Imrg, 1 don't hi-sitate to assert, are -hams of one sort or another, in part or in whole. "The falsification is n--t confined to men's shoes; oh.no. There is fully as much or more fraud in women's foot* 1 g .ir. There is'petifile goat' made out ■f blackened muslin, with soles of plaited hash,' as pressed scraps are termed. "Sheepskin is skillfully dressed to imitate ki<l and many of the shoes made of it and sold for sewed work are merely pasted together and dissolve, so to speak, the first time they are wet. This sort of fraud sets hardest on the poor, and especially the unreasoning I poor, who must economise from force of necessity, and always buy things that are "cheap* without much refer ence to their quality or durability. % Shoes at half price are always a temp tation to the poor. but if they would give the matter a little study they would soon discover that one pair of honest shoes, sold at a fair price, would outlast three or four pairs of the other kind, though when first put I •>n the latter look just a* nice or than the in-tter kind."— (Pa.) Commercial. Dor Seven Wonders. The seven wonders of the world in 1 ancient times, were the pyramids of Egypt, the l'haros of Alexandria the w alls and hanging gardens of Babylon, the Temple of Diana, the statue of the olympian Jupiter, the Mausoleum of Artemisia and the CoUoasus of Rhodes. The seven wonders of the world in modern times are the printing-presti the steam engine, the spina ing the telephone, the phonograph,l graph, and electric light. , The so called "seven wonders" of the ancients are mere trifles compared with those of the present time. Hie Brooklyn bridge, for example, would nuiko the hanging gardens of Babylon a mere toy, while the whole sevedlL wonders put together would sink into%| insignificance, could their builders | have seen a lightning express train at I full speed.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers