s K- THE PITTSBURG DISPATCH. SUNDAY, JANUARY 5, 1890. 15 t- fTHE FAIRY WiUlTEK TOE THE smmim Y poor flowers are all withered," said Ida, as she gazed sor rowfully at a large faded bouqnet which stood in a vase on the table. "Last evening they were so beautiful, and this morning the leaves hang down and the pretty colors are almost gone. What is the reason?" she asked, turning to her brother Dick who sat nearby reading, and who, Ida thought, knew everything, because he could tell such wonderful stories and make such pretty pictures. "Don't you know what ails your flowers?" said Dick. "They were at a ball last night and hare danced themselves tired." "But flowers can't dance," said Ida. "Oh yes," replied her brother;" at night, when we are asleep, the flowers flit gaily about, and almost everv evening have a ball." "Where do they dance?" asked the little girl. "Ton know the castle in which the King resides during the summer; where there is a large garden with so many flowers? That is where the dance is held." "I was in the garden with mother yester day," said Ida, "but the leaves had all fallen trom the trees, and no flowers were to Arranged for the Dance. be seen. What has become of them? I,saw so many in tbe summer time." "They are in the castle. As soon as the King and all the court people have returned to the city, the flowers leave the garden, and are very happy in their winter home. Ton should see them; two of the loveliest roses, a red and white one, take tbeirplaces on tbe throne. They are the king and queen; two red poppies stand near and act as pages; then the other flowers come until a great company is assembled, and the dancing begins. The blue violets dance with the hyacinths and the crocuses, who-are the young ladies; the tulips and the large red lilies are the elderly ladies and act as chaperones." "Bnt," aked Ida, "does no one ever dis turb the flowers vrhen they dance in the King's castle?" "Oh, yes; sometimes old Walter goes about at night; but he cannot see very well, and always carries his bunch of keys. As soon as the flowers hear tne keys jingle they hide behind the heavy curtains and keep very quiet. Often old Walter says: 'I smell sweet flowers; but I do not see any.' Then the little flowers almost betray them selves by laughing aloud." "How I wish I could see them," cried Ida; "if they could only have a ball at our house some night." All day Ida pondered over the strange story which her brother had told her, that the flowers were tired from dancing the night before; and she thought they must certainly be ill. She carried them to her play room where, on a toy bed, lay her large doll Sophie. "Sophie," she said, "you must give up your bed to-day and be contented to sleep in the drawer, for the flowers are very tired, and I think they might rest better on your bed." She then tool: up the doll, and very care fully laid the flowers in the little cradle, drew the covering over them, and told them to be very quiet, and maybe thev would be well by the next day. Many "times Ida slipped into the room to see if the flowers were rested; but they lay verv still, and showed no signs "of life. When bed time came the little girl could not resist whispering to her mother's tulips The Violet Refws to Dance Kith Sophie. and geraniums which stood on the window. "Good night; I know you will go to the ball soon. Couldn't you have it here? I should so iove to see you." But the flowers answered never a word, though Ida was perfectly sure they understood her. For a long time she layawake thinking how beau tiful it must be in the king's castle. Then sbe fell asleep, only to dream of roses, vio lets and hyacinths circling about her. After several hoars she awoke. The house was very quiet. Tbe full moon looked ia at the window, making tbe room look almost as bright as day. "I wonder." thought the little girl, "if those flowers are still on Sophie's bed, or if they have gone to the dance. I should like to run in and see; bnt I fear it would disturb mamma. She sat up, and tried to look out into the other rooms; and after listening intently for a moment was sure she heard someone play ing on the piano, but so softly and very sweet. "I believe they are going to have a ball," the said; "and I must see them." So slipping ont of bed the glided noiselessly past her mother's door into the sitting room. There was no light burning, bnt the moon beams pouring through the windows disclosed to the little girl a very beautiful sight; all the tulips and hyacinths were arranged on tbe floor 'in two lone rows waitinc for the dance, -while the empty flower pots stood in j Bw n Q-Wf Y) "j M. FLOWERS PITTSBUBO DISPATCH. the windows. At the piano sat a large yellow lily, ,which Ida had seen in the garden the summer before. This flower lady nodded her yellow head, keeping time to the soft, sweet music she was playing, A. blue crocus jumped from thejtableand joined in the sport. Sooa the curtains were pushed aside from the doll bed, and the "sick" flowers sprang forth seeming as gay as the others. Then a small wax doll slipped from her place in tho corner and danced a ma zurka with an oxeyed daisy. Sophie's slumbers being disturbed by all this gay ety, arose from her resting place, saying. "Why the ball is begun; why did no one call me?" "Will you dance with me?" asked a tiny violet. "Ho, indeed," was the reply; "you are entirely too small." And the little flower, very much offended, turned away, while Sophie seated herself in an easy chair, hop ing that some of the dahlias or other large flowers would seek her for the dance'. But no one appeared to notice the large doll, and she soon grew so weary watching the others that she dropped asleep and fell Irom the chair with such a noise that the flowers gathered around her to see if she was injured. They were all so kind, and especially the flower that had occupied her bed. They thanked Sophie for her kindness, saying that it was through her generosity that they were able to attend the ball. Sophie then offered her bed tor the next day; but the flowers grate fully declined, saying, "We have not long to live, and to-morrow we shall be dead. Tell little Ida to bury us out in the garden, and next summer we shall appear acain more lovely than before." At that moment a great crowd of flowers came tripping through the hall door. There were the two great roses whom, by their golden crowns, she knew to be the King and Queen; gilliuowers, carnations, and many others from the King's castlj. After the newcomers had been received with honor, the flowers lost no time in joining the dance. They had brought their music with them, and the poppies and peonies blew on their peapod trumpets till their faces were crimson, and the snowdrops and lilies of the valley rang merrily. At last the flowers said good-night; and in a moment no sign was left of the gay scene which had just been presented. Little Ida crept back to her bed; but early the next morning she went into her playroom, where she found the flowers just as she had left them. She said to her doll Sophie, "Do you remember what the flowers told you to tell me? iiat Sophie gazed at ber stupidly, and did not say a word. "You are very unkind, Sophie," she said; "bnt I heard their message, and shall grant their request." So taking a small paper box she laid tbe flowers carefully in it, and buried them in the garden beside her pet canary. PATSIE. PEEACHEBS WITH BELL f DXCHES. Collece Graduate nnd Theolotoc as Street Car Conductor. I asked Senator Stanford, says the Chicago Xexcs Washington man, if his wife was cor rectly reported in a public interview the other day when she said that he had college J pany in San Francisco. "No." replied the Senator, "that is not quite accurate. I havea very wide acquaint ance throughout the country, and there is a popular impression that anyone can get work in San Francisco. My mends, know ing that I employ 15,000 "or 20,000 men, assume, of course, that I can give employ ment to everyone that comes, and therefore they send out to me from the Fast all sorts of people with letters of introduction. "While it is true that I employ a great many men, I make it a rule never to put a man into a position he is not qualified to fill. I have no work for college graduates, nor do I need any preachers, although I al ways pay my share toward supporting the church to which I belong and in assisting other churches that need financial encour agement. So when these people come out to me I am compelled to tell them that I have nothing for them to do. "Afterward, when their means are ex hausted and they come to me again I say to them that certain positions are vacant and let them select for themselves. They in variably prefer positions as conductors on the street car lines to manual labor, and are, of course, better qualified lor them, and so it happened that at one time I had five college graduates and three young preachers in my employ. Tbey did not re main long, however, because, all of them having good manners and more than ordinary intelligence, they were able to make acquaintances rapidly and soon found other and more appropriate positions." HE HADE NO BLUKDEB. She Thought the Joke Was on Arthur, bot , Was Mistaken. Chicago Newt, j Extract from-a" novel by that gifted author, Fanny Selmington TTsgirls: "While the Christmas festivities were in progress there came from the dimly lighted hall a low, delirious sound suggestive of osculation. Then followed a gurgle of laughter and Miriam's voice, which said: 'That's a good joke on you, Arthur. It's holly up there and not mistletoe. "But Arthur didn't seem to regret the blunder at all." A Condensed KoveL Mr. Winn Well, Callis, how's papa? Callis (a 6-year-old) Nicelv; I thank you. $ Mr. Winn What a polite little fellow you are! Here's a nickel for yon. h Callis Pardon me: but Tarn not allowed to take it Mr. Winn (to himself) What perfect di ciphnel Callis However, nothing was said which will prevent you from buying someaf those cocoanut. tafiies from the Han a the: corner. Fuck. "S-vrv The Dmd Flowers. A FAIR-HAIRED CHIEF Strange Story of a Young Irishman Who Cast His Lot Among THE CANNIBALS OP NEW ZEALAND. How Edward Maning Arose to be the Chief of a Tribe. MS MARRIAGE TO A MAORI PEINCESS rWETTTES TOB TBI DISPATCH.) NoTiody ever knew just why or where Fdward Maning went to New Zealand. Those were points on which he would never give any information, even to his' dearest friends. I may say, however, that I have reason to suspect there was a lady in the case, as there is in the case of half the strange adventures in this world. Suffice it to say that he went there a good many years ago, and that he had not the slightest intention of staying. -He merely picked out the most savage and outlandish country be could hear of, and went there out of sheer devilment, to see what was to be seen and to get some novelty and excitement while his blood was young and hot. He was a gentleman of rood family and fortune in the north of Ireland, exceedingly handsome, 6 feet 2 inches high, with thews and muscles like a Boman gladiator. His superb head was crowned with a mass of golden curls, and a pair of deep blue eyes of marvelous brilliancy and sweetness lit up a face in which all the features were in har mony, and every line betokened intellectual power and vivid sympathies. He had two of the most impressive of all human qualities, intrepid courage and a bound less sense of humor. He never in his life knew the feeling of fear, and he was all his life so quick to see the comic side of every situation that it was next to impossible to put him. out of temper. He was, moreover, au excellent scholar, with a large and varied knowledge of the poets; so that his highly cultivated imagination served him instead of a vast deal of experience. He was just one of those men whose strong points a primitive and robust race appreciate intuitively, and he had not been ashore in New Zealand an hour before he was an object of admiration among the Maoris and the chosen Fakeha of a great chief, or rangatira, who remained his firm friend as long as he lived. It happened that in landing a stalwart Maori, who had offered to carry him from the ship's boat to tne Deach, sapped, by accident or design, and let him fall to the surf. Maning in stantly seized the Maori, and, dragging him out in full view of the assembled tribp, ducked him in deep water until he was half drowned before giving him a chance for life by a long swim. As soon as they both reached land the Maori, who was a noted athlete, rushed at him to take utu payment or revenge. Maning, however, was all ready for him, and after a desperate en counter succeeded in leaving him prostrate on the sand, amid the enthnsiastic plaudits of the crowd. The fight was a fair fight, and Maning was well pleased by the friend ly welcome which his victory secured him, even from his opponent and his relatives, that he took a fancy to the country and the people at first sight. The rangatira, who had witnessed the conflict, swore he would kill anyone whoinjured the "newPakeha," and carried him off then and there to his pa or fortified town, which, at the time, he was holding against a powerful enemy. A MAORI MASSACBE. The young adventurer having decided to throw in his lot in New Zealand for the time being, he brought all his belongings ashore, built a honse and store near his friend s pa, and soon became a person of im portance in those parts. His plans of life, however, were shortly afterward frustrated by a little incident which is thoroughly characteristic of thf 'people and the period. The rangatira who had taken him under his protection had for some time back bad a dispute with another magnate living about ten miles off, with whom Maning was also on good terms, and wish ing, if possible, to bring the affair to a friendly settlement, he in vited both chiefs to meet at his house with their respective followers, and discuss their difference with a view to arbitration. They did so; but the arguments growing more and more animated as the case pro ceeded. It ended by Maning's rangatira and more than a hundred ot his people be ing shot dead in a heap in front of his door, after which the victorious party blew up his store with all its treasures ot gunpowder and bnrnt his house to ashes. Maning de termined never to interfere in a Maori quarrel aeain except in the Maori fashion, and having found another and more power ful rangitira, who gave him a large tract of land in consideration of his becoming his, Fakeha, he became a member of his tribe and a Pakeha-Maori in all respects. Before being fully and finally accepted among these interesting people, however, Maning had a personal difference of his own with a man of some consequence, which as nearly as possible cut short his career. He was never tired of telling the story, and was prouder of the part he bore in it, I think, than of any of his exploits in regular war, about which he was usually reticent. I wisn I could give it in his own words, for he was a rare reconteur when in congenial com pany, with the hinges of his tongue loosened by a tumbler of hot brandy and water. But I will do my best. There were in those days, and there are now, among the Maoris, men who would be a credit to any nation, men on whom nature has plainly stamped the mark of her nobil ity, faultless in bodilv form, quick and in telligent in mind, polite and brave, capable of the most self-sacrificing acts for the good of others, patient, affectionate and forbear ing in their families in short, gentlemen in every sense of the word. But there were and are others the very opposite of all this; brutal, malignant, odious wretches, who stand out individually from the savages around them by the excess of their barbar ity and from whose breast all feeling of humanity seems to be extinct A. CnrLD OF MATUBE. It was one of these who took a dislike to Maning, and with whom he had to come to an understanding before he could hold any position in the tribe. He was a bullet headed, scowling, bow-legged broad-should ered, herculean ruffian. He had killed many men in fair fight and had also com mitted two murders wnich were deemed dia bolical even by the Maoris. He was sitting on the verandah of his honse, and called to his wife, a fine young woman, to bring him a light for his pipe. She "was going for water with a calibash in her hand and her baby on her back, and she asked him to get a light himself, asshewasbusy. He snatched up his gun and immediately shot her dead, afterward describing with great gusto the comical appearance of her brains hanging out. On another occasion he lopped bis brother's head oft in his sleep on account of some trivial dispute. All these qualifications combined made him unquestionably a great ragantira, whose disfavor rendered anyone a marked man, and; as he had never "been defeated in any conflict, his mana or prestige was in full force. He had often threatened to visit his hatred and jealonsv on the newcomer. who, on his part, had always returned his menaces with derision, vowing that if ever tbe bully interfered with him, he would. .cavM Maui t.uaii Huum juab xiiui lur life. One day, all Maning's friends had gone on an expedition to haul one of those im mense nets with which the Maoris period ically clear a river or an arm of the sea of all the fish it contains, and he was sitting alone in his honse, reading a Sydney paper a year old, which contained the latest news from the outside world. Suddenly his doorway was darkened by a burly figure and his sworn enemy, the murderous bully already described, stepped into the room and squat ted down on the floor, with' a scowl of defi ance. ... "I'm thinking, friend," said Maning, -who thoroughly understood his attitude, "that this is my house, and my advice to you is to be off." Suiting the action to the word, he placed his foot to the Maori's shoulder and gave him a shove which would have sent most people heels over bead. Not so, however, with a giant like that. It shook him a little; but in a moment, as quick as light ning, and, as it appeared with a single mo tion, he bounded from the ground, flung his mat away over his back and amed a furious blow at the Pakeha's head with his toma hawk. Maning only escaped instant death by a quickness equal to or greater than his own. His eye and arm worked together like a flash. LITE WAS AT STAKE. He caught the tomahawk in full descent. The edge grazed his hand; but his arm. stif fened like a bar of iron, arrested the blow. The savage made one frantic but ineffectual attempt to tearthetomahawkfromhis grasp, and then they seized one another round the middle, nnd struggled like maniacs in the endeavor to dash one another against tbe floor,, Maning holding on for dear life to tbe tomahawk and making desperate efforts to get it from his assailant, hut without a chance of suc cess, as it was fastened to his wrist by a throng of hide. The Maori was the strbeger and heavier of the two; but Maning was as active as a cat and as longwinded as an emu and very far irom weak. At last, the Maori got a wiri round Maning's leg and had it not been for the table on which thev both fell and which, in smashing to pieces, broke their fall, he must have been disabled and, in that case, instantly tomahawked. They now rolled over and over on the floor like two mad bulldogs, the Maori trying' to bite and tbe Pakeha trying to stun him by hammering his bullet head on the floor. Up againl both still holding on to the tomahawk. Another furious struggle, in the course of which both their heads and half their bodies were dashed through the two glass windows, and every article of furniture in tbe room was reduced to frag ments. Down again! tumbling like mad amid the wreck, both a mass of blood from head to foot. Tip again! another terrific tussle for the tomahawk. Down again with a crash; and so this battle for life and death went on, down and up, up and down, for fully an hour. At last, after a desperate wrestling match, in which the Maori tore mouthfuls of flesh from Maning iritli Ilia tirrArioli tooth l lflttoi- enr1f?on1v (felt his enemy showing signs of weakness. With one thrilling effort of strength and hope he lilted bim high in bis arms ana dashed him panting, raving, bleeding, foaming at the mouth, but beaten and help less, on tbe ground. It was at this point that Maning failed to discern the character of the man he had to deal with, and it almost cost him his life. He was unfastening the tomahawk from tbe prostrate Maori's wrist, when tbe latter spoke for the first time. "Enough," he said. "I am conquered. Let me rise." A TREACHEROUS FOE. Maning had often experienced the chivalrous way in which Maoris take defeat when fairly beaten, and being anxious to part from this man on good terms, in order to avoid further trouble with his relatives, since there were no witnesses to the affair, he incantiously let go his left arm. Like lightning, he snatched at a large carving knife which was lying on the floor among the debris. Maning kicked it beyond his reach, but before he could save himself,. the Maori caught him a blow on tbe side of the head that filled his mouth with blood. The two men closed again and Maning soon had his enemy at his mercy. He unwound the tomahawk from his wrist and told him to get up and die standing. At this moment so Manlug said, but I always rawer doubted, tbis part ot tbe story the fishing party returned and rnsbing in, spared him the necessity for dispatching his foe. Seizing the bully by the heels, they dragged mm down to tbe beacb, stamped on him, kicked him, mashed him with stones, and so broke bim up that by the time when they threw him into his canoe, he was just as dead as if Maning had buried the toma hawk in his head be.ore they arrived. The result ot the victory was that the bully's mana pas-el to Maning, who thenceforward was acknowledged as a ran gatira in his own right and with whom no individual Maori ever dreamt of interfering again. He married the daughter of the fore most war chief of his tribe, the famous lizard skin, renowned in legend and song.and took an active part in those terrible intertribal struggles which immediately preceded the European occupation of the country. Car ried away by the excitement ot war, powerlully influenced, through his sym pathetic nature, by his domestic surround ings and filled with sincere admiration and liking for the brave and talented people he had attached himself to, he became a Maori of the Maoris, excelling them in all their highest qualities, distinguishing himself among them by feats of valor and endur ance, while preserving intact bis intel lectual refinement and delicacy of feeling amid scenes of horror and superstition which must have degraded a weaker or a coarser nature. CIVILIZING THE NATIVES. Maning undoubtedly used his immense influence among the Maoris for their im provement, as far as he saw his way to do so. -He taught great numbers of them to read and write, and gave them some idea of higher delights than revenge or plunder. He made no attempt to convert them to Christianity, because he was firmly of the belief that a good pagan is better than a bad Christian; but be never lobt an opportunity of exposing or discrediting the tohunga, half priests, half necromancers, whose mys-, tenons terrors exercised so baneful an in fluence,on the impressionable mind of the Maoris, and to whose evil counsels their frightful barbarities were largely due. wnen tne war orose out between the Maoris and the British Government Man ing's patriotism and loyalty to the Queen impelled him to leave the Maoris and estab lish a home with his wife and children in a European settlement- He took no part against his old allies, however, though he might easily have obtained a high and lu crative command. After the war was over he was appointed Jndge af the Native Land Court, with the warm approval of both races, and remained for many years an ornament alike to tbe bench and to society. Having at .length been stricken by a terrible disease, he was sent to London for surgical treatment, and there he died not long ago, surrounded by loving friends, and bearing his sufferings with the same indomitable courage and light-hearted cheerfulness which, through out his checkered and stormy career, never deserted the Pakeha-Maori, the fair-haired chief. Edwaed Wakefield. Baby Clothes. Folding tbe seams And measuring bands, While tbe swift needle gleams IhMier diligent hands Skirts and yokes and waists. Ribbons and buttons and bows Patient she sews and bastes Fashioning baby clothes. There by the light She musingly dreams. And her fancies unite. As do swift-meeting streams Then to work once more. And busy she bastes and sews Dreamily as before Making tbe baby clothes. Snipping the threads t Tbe scissors divide. And the loose ends and shreds Fall unheeded aside Here a plain edge meets Embroidery furbelows. As still she bems and pleats Shaping the baby clothes. Spotless as snow Tbe soft linen lies, In the lamp's mellow glow, Yet there comes to her eyes A wraith, a fear, a cloud, " That suddenly dims and goes, Will it be dress or shroud. What are tho baby clothes? firnest McQaffev, in Inter Ocean, Keep Them In tbe Nursery. Hamburg Figs should be kept in tbe nursery, where they are particularly useful in case of constipation or Indigestion, as tbev are liked by children and are prompt ana efficacious in action. 23 cents. Dose, one fix. Hack Drag Co.,N.T, - XXSa GO A LITTLE SLOWER. Bessie Bramble Moralizes on the Barry of Modern Existence. NO LEISURE FOR SOCIETY WOMEN Who Are Constantly Crowded hy Pleasures and Duties. THE ONLT TEDE PHILOSOPHY OP LIFE 1WBITTXN FOB THE DISPATCH. In the good old-fashioned times abont which the grandmothers do so dearly love to talk when there ware no Bewing ma chines and everything was made by hand, people had time to visit each other and en joy themselves, but in these days of labor saving Inventions, it seems, as Rev. Hodges remarks, that the people have everything bnt leisure. Hurry, push, drive-ahead seem to have conquered everything and captured everybody. Even if the great boon of a working day of eight hours were in force, is it likely that the present scram ble wonld be at all diminished? Is it probable that people would learn to go a little slower and enjoy the luck in leisure ? It may be true, as good old Bax- Lter, of "Saints Best" fame, has said, that r 'T41anoaa ia n nnnttinf ein an1 lartAi IS a duty," but if all the restless hurryings to and fro and constant scurry ings around and flying to fill engagements and ceaseless tramping and toiling and moiling and rush ing are indicative of the world's conversion from the constant sin of idleness, then is it not much to be desired had the world stayed wicked a little longer at least for the sake of the old stagers. This is the sentiment of one of the afore said grandmothers who eannot be per suaded to see the sense of living in a rush and whirl from morning till night People who are born to it can stand it, perhaps, but while some of the women of half a century ago sewtd themselves to death, those ot the present seem bent upon running themselves out of breath, and into tbe grave for noth ing. With intense industry they gad, and gad, and gad. To church meetings and school meetings, and W. C. T. Us . and sisterhoods, and guilds and clubs and weddings and recep tions and luncheons and progressive euchres and charitable societies and all the rest of them nnder whatever name. woman's field. But with all of these "musts" and "oughts" and "duties" and pleasures com bined, crowding upon each other constantly, what are women to do? Missionaries must be supported, as evervbodv says, and who would attend theie meetings for tbe aiding of the heathen if not women? The crusade lor temperance must be kept up and sustained, and who could be founi to attend to this great matter except women? Chnrch meet ings must be attended, and who wonld go if women stayed at home? Church fairs and dinners and "socials" most be held, or how would the dollars and dimes be collected for church uses from the pockets of men who can never be caught on Sunday? No one can be counted upon to poach upon those preserves save womeD, and on them it is laid as a duty. Then there are mothers' meetings and benevolent so cieties and sewing schools and domestic training schools all of these have to be attended to, and carried on by women, who have their minds burdened with their care, and their wits put to work to insure their access: Then there are the "Sings' Daugh ters," who are supposed to put in their time in doing good unto all men, and all the world for that matter. When the magnitude of the work and the enormous self-sacrifice included in all of these .associations are taken into consideration, some idea of how women eive services and time, for which tbey receive no wages, save the reward to be paid in the great hereafter, is gained. Ministers are paid for preaching, choir singers are paid for singing, janitors are paid for dusting, but women work for love, and their labor counts for little, because it is so cheap. If the beloved brethren should devote themselves to the enforcement of the apostolic injunction for women to be keepers at home, it would be hard on the churches, but it would perhaps be a cood deal easier foi the sisters in the way of pro viding them with some leisure to have a rest and A LITTLE FUN of their own. But it could not be done. The women, in the first place, would not heed the injunction unless it suited them, nnd in the second, there is the calamity foretold by a reverend doctor at a recent meeting, that if "it was not for the work of women the churches would go to pieces." Moreover, the women are as possessed by the spirit of the age as men. They must push, and rush too, to keep up with the procession, whether ot rhnrch r state. Bui while those intent upon doing good should receive all duecreditaud apprecia tion for their efforts and self-sacrificing de votion to what they deem duty, the society women are wearing themselves ont with an equal abandon and enthusiasm, giving and gadding at weddings, and teas, and recep tions, ahd luncheons, and dinners and euchres. Grandmothers open their eves with won der and amaze and solemnly shake their heads as they tell how things were done in their day. They ponder profoundly over the perplexing problem of what sort of peo ple the children of the present will grow up to be. They can never be induced to be lieve that such goings on cm come to good. To tbem with their wreck of illusions and knowledge of the world's shams the con stant toil and endeavor of women to honor the claims of society and keep in "the swim" is not so much the demand of the age as the folly of the individual. Nobody could persuade them that the good old tea parties they so often virtuously deplore were the form of precisely the same thing in their day. The age oi telephones, of rapid transit,of electric lights, of convenient and competent caterers all enters into the rush and whirl of society as it exists. But there is one thing certain, and that is that unless more days can be got into a week, and women can put up higher the strain of their endurance, or their circle ot acquaint ances be thinned out, or something be done for relief from the EXACTIONS OF SOCIAL SEBVITTDE and the observance of good form, some thing will have to break. Things are be coming unmanageable, and women will- have to give in to some extent or die. There is no getting back to the simple ways of the grandmothers, even if all were willing, but it is likely that relief will come to many women in society by the evolution of such simplicity as will make the pleasures of the mind bomething more precious than a costly display ot what is to be bought only with dollars. Another class that are rushed and hurried along in the tumult of affairs are the children. There is something sad in hearing tbem talk of their "percentages," and their "passing," and what they made in grammar and arithmetic, and all the rest of it Instead of the tun and the fights they had with their games of ball and marbles.and the tea parties and sledding and slidintr they bad after school. Now they have no fun after school. They have to stay in and study and slave over lessons for fear they will not "pass." Then another way that has been devised to cheat them out of a good time is the children's parties where little girls dressed within an inch of their lives imitate their elders in flitting and carrying on, and the boys are bashful and bored, and all are crammed with food not good for them, and kept up until tbey are so cross and cantankerous-thatitis generally said that children nowadays are as bad as they can be, and not many people want them anywhere around. Another class of women who are overbur dened and: overwrought by the strident pro ertM of tbe age, are tbe teachers. Being' shut up with 40 or more nervous children for seven or eight hours a day, and doing overwork after times, is no easy life, but wben to this is added carrying home manu scripts night after night to read and mark.it is no wonder that so many of them look as if living at A PACE THAT KILLS. To surrender rest and recreation to the manuscript work is on their part foolish and unnecessary, and they should "kick" on taking work home. Bnt lack of leisure and solace of rest are denied alike to the men and women of this ape. Every year it seems as if tbe hurry of living and the multiplicity of mat ters to attend to were growing greater for all. In the general decay of faith' the old proverb, "The more hurry the less speed," seems to have shared. According td the cheerfuland favorite philosophy of those who see in the great boom of progress in the last century, a nearer and swifter ap proach to a new and happier golden age, when tyrants have ceased to oppress and slaves exist no longer when want and mis ery tend to disappear, and the riches and pleasures of the world are more equally divided when the strifes and strikes of capital and labor will have wholly ceased by mutual concession when progress and poverty will no longer be associated when the new forces of nature being developed have elevated society by giving opportunity of culture to the humblest when with wealth of knowl edge and leisure to acquire are in possession of all, men and women safe from the terrors of want will realize their dreams ot sweetness and light and love. But opposed to these are others who persist in denying that happiness ever has been, or ever will be ODtained, eitner by tbe individual, or by the world at large, and that the changed condition of things into which the world seems passing will onlv bv its greater intelligence and clearer comprehension of iujuk3, uniig uub iu auueu intensity iub consciousness that work, suffering, sin and misery are the unavoidable lot of mankind. A DISMAL PHILOSOPHT. This new philosophy is most dismal and forlorn, and will receive no acceptance at the opening ot a new and prosperous year. Were it even forced upon the intelligence of mankind by strength of truth it would not add to their happiness or detract from their misery, since it would do away with the sweetest dreams and hopes. As every one has his burden to bear, so it is that he has his sweetest pleasures as well. The glad new year is upon us; let ns hope it will be better than the last, more beauti ful, less sorrowful, and bring 'on the "better manners, purer laws" of which hope and optimism ever whisper "Looking Backward" has capjured the public mind as to what may be hoped from socialism. But does the light of his tory show that human nature has greatly changed under all the teachings of philan thropy and progress? Would not even some of the good men of to-day just as readily persecute for difference of opinion as the holy men of old? Were the power of the lawinsnfficientvwould not cruelty be found as intense, avarice as rapacious, and bigotry as bitter as existed thousands of years ago? While we can look backward, we cannot live backward, and to "move on" is inevitable whether for better or worse, Longfellow says: Trnst no future, howe'er pleasantl Let the dead past bnry its deadt Act, act in the living present! This is all that can be done, poetry or no poetry.since we can neither count upon.or act in the future. Bessie Bramble. AN OLD IDEA IN A SEW FORM. A modern Modification of a Combination Settee nnd Table. The first cut shows a very prettily de signed and stylish combination chair and table that is just now coming into vogue; Combination Chair and Table. tbe second, the old style dining table and settee, which may still be found in the houses of pioneer New England and New rs- SWW Combination Settee and Table. York families. It is easy to see that tbe idea of the new may have been taken from the old. MUSTACHE SODTENIES. Tonne Ladles Who Collect Hnlra From Men's Upper Lips. Boston Globe. 1 The girls have a new fad. It would be extremely difficult to guess what it is, for it is destined to cause young men with hand some mustaches no end of trouble before it runs its course. The novelty seems to have originated with the young ladies of Manchester, N. H., and consists of collecting a hair trom the hirsute adornment of young men's upper lips as a token of remembrance, but it is feared that it is really a collection of mus tache hair properly labeled and classified by young ladies that they may show to tfieir lady friends and by the display of the favors received at the hands of many gen tlemen acquaintances create jealousy in the minds (or hearts) of their less fortunate sisters. All the available young men are solicited to part with just one single hair from their upper lip to swell the collection, and it is indeed a hard-hearted swain who will refnse a pretty girl this small favor. The hairs are stuck on a large card with-a white wafer, on which are placed the initials of the donor. A Boon to L&nndrymtn. Philadelphia Beoord.l A prophetio down-town gentleman says: "Within the next ten. years, if the Gulf stream continued to approach our coast with its hot water, we may see the Atlantic beach lined with Chinese laundries." f Iff GIF 1 HI W fil IV91 yfwPHJsyj'Hjfa" VfifsKTSlllliESE fry THE FIRESIDE SPHIX k Collection of Mmatjcal Nuts, for Hue CracMBg. Addreu communication! for thit department to E. B. CnASBOUBir, LevHtton, Maine. 872 TO BEGIN -WELL. E. W. Harris. 873 XX TTNSEEN CTTT. There is a city of which I've read In Webster's lexicon; Too, also, must have heard of It In days that are bygone. A "talkative" city ft truly Is, Afactyou-cannot doubt; Tbouch citizens. It has not one, Oft from it comes a shout. Although Dy man 'twas never seem. 'Tis heard by man) each day: . With some it stays throuch thick and thin. a rom cnuanooa tin they're gray. FBA5C 874 TELEOEAM CONDENSING. A real estate agent desiring to send a tele-. gram to one ol bis customers instructed nia clerk to prepare the message. The clerk soon after submitted the following: "Tbe tenant bas moved from the house. There are twenty-eight thousand, eicht hun dred sheets of paper on the ground floor. Do ?'oa wish us to attach these goods T Send your nstrnctions by telegraph." There, sir." said the clerk. "I think that covers all yon wish to say." "Yes," answered the real estate agent, "but you have taken S3 words to say what should be said in 10 words to come within tbe limits of a telegram. See if yon cannot condense tbe mes sage to that length without sacrificing any of tbe sense or clearness." ' "It can't be done, sir," said the clerk dogmat ically. "well, let ns see about that," replied his em ployer. , Fire minutes later he had condensed the tel egram to 10 words. Can yon do it? - J. H. Fezajtdh. 875 ANAGRAM. Seel be writes a "page thorter'n" mine, Bnt there's more contained in one line Tban in many which I may write. And I think that such expert men Use some kind of a " thort gear pen," It flies o'er the paper so light. . CKAS. I. HOUSTOV. 876 DIAMOND. 1. A letter. 2. A soft food for infants. 3. Foundations. 4. One who severs. 5. The pits of theaters. 6. Ridges on the shoulder pieces to turn the blow of a lance. 7. Machines nsed by the ancients for throwing stones. 8. Crowded. 9. Advised (Obs.) 10. Half of senses. 11. A letter. JPnn, O. Bopsxb. 877 chaeade. Firtt. AjpUDpet for children. Though rarely do boys Take Interest in Such effeminate toys. Second. , To furnish with strength. To defend, fortify; To Impart strength or action. Will tecond supply. Whole. A long Turkish garment, Besembllne in sound A cloak, which quite often With ladles is-found. Bttteb Sweet. "" 878 a poetical effusion. Collars $0 20 Caffs 16 H DirXS 4v OflCES. m Handkerchiefs 25 Amount due 1 13 d. m. a. 879 TRANSPOSITION. The flrtt is "rent asunder?' The second makes one wonder. So fearless be Is of the sea And of the caverns under. ' To three his trade, he snatches Treasures which lie in patches Within tUeir grave. Beneath tha ware, "Whose dark the sun ne'er catches. Bittek Sweet. 88qr-compotjnd acrostic. IFordj of eight letters. 1. Household deities. 2. Pouring ont. 3. Inactivity, i. Omitting a word or phrase. 0. Sportive. 6. Repress. 7. Harmonious. 8. To cover. 9. A retailer of mall articles. .Primal An apparatus for giving signals. junauA narDinger. Combined One who delivers Important letters. laliTO. NEW PRIZES. 1. A book of Familiar Quotations. 2. A handsome single-volume edition of one of the British voets. 3. A finely-bound volume of standard fiction to be awarded tbe senders of the best three lots of answers to tbe puzzles published during Jannary. The solntions mnst be forwarded in weekly installments, and should be sent in even if very few. ANSWERS. 863 Happy New Year. 884 1. C-r-ore. 2. Chiliarchy,ChlHarcb,ChllL 8. O-x-eye. 8631. Honesty. 2. Incivilltya. Integrity. 4. Calamity. 6. Humidity. 6. Dignity. 7. Fri gldltv m-l. Sanlt 2. Sioux. 8. Sue. i. Sou. 8o7 Cataract. 868 Dude. 8H Son-net -87nXurn backward, O Time, In your fllrht." 871 Carriage. Pavements. A WOMAN'B ECONOMY. Spent 10 Cents and Lost an Hoar's Time to Sore a Cent. New Haven Palladium.! Some women have queer ideas of economy. A lady went to a State street drugstore with a parcel for which she desired postage stamps. The postage was , 7 cents, and the proprietor had nothing but 2-cent stamps in his shop. The lady refused to give the extra cent to Uncle Sam, but boarded a street car, rode down town, paid 7 cents for seven one-ent stamps, returned to tbe car and went home, having expended 10 cents in cold cash and having lost a half hour's time to avoid paying more than the exact postage rale. The Future. What may we take Into the vast Forever? That marble door Admits no fruit af all our long endeavor. No famf-wreathed crown we wore, No garnered lore. What can we bear beyond the unknown portal; No gold, no eains Of all our toiling; in tbe life immortal No boarded wealth remains. Nor gilds, nor stains. Naked from out that far abyss behind ns We entered here: No word came with our coming to remind us What wondrous world was near, No hope, no tear. Into the silent, starless night before us Naked we glide: No hand has mapped tbe constellations o'er ns, No comradeJit our side, No chart, no guide. Yet fearless toward that midnight black and hollow, Our footsteps fare: The beckoning of a Father's hand we follow His love alone is there, ' No oarM, no care, i .-StheortUiewianastit. a I MEN WHO BC0FP AT SCIENCE. Bldlcnle and Scorn Often tha Reward f Patient Investigator. Boston Courier. 1 It is remarkable how often ignorance at tempts to cover itself with a shield of con tempt, and this is nowhere more frequently noticed than in connection with scientific) inquiry. It is the almost inevitable result of calling the attention of a practical man to scientific distoveries which are not of im mediate practical importance that upon them is called down the scorn of the men of affairs. The difficulty is that these men do not ap- preciate the fact that as all truth is related, the isolation ot anv bit of information can be but apparent. The rest of it, its related facts are not found, but they will be some day, and then the significance and import ance of the whole and ot its parts will be manifest. Every fact brought to light is so much more capital for the future student. The advance of knowledge is really slow, although there are times when ic seems to go onward with amazing rapidity. In the intervals when progress seems to be small the slow accumulation of detatched facts ia going on, and when the time comes that to many have beeu collected that the relation between tbem may be established, then, all in a moment science appears to take aa' enormous stride. Of course there are hidden things which are merely curiosities, and to investigate these is simply to waste human life and time. It is seldom difficult to distinguish, however, between the real and the false ia this respect, and the genuine seeker for truth is seldom befooled by being led upon a worthless line of inquiry, however he may be baffled in his search. The desire to find the truth u generally a sufficient talisman ta guide one in its search. ' A F0.0D OP THE FUT0EB. . Possibilities of the 'Possum aa a. Babstltate) for Beef and Pork. Chicago Herald. In the early days of Chicago an opossum was occasionally seen hanging in front of a store where game was sold. Being a curiosity it attracted attention and served the pur pose of a sign. If it ever found a purchaser it was a negro, who secured the animal at the cost of a few cents. But times have changed. The opossum has come to be classed among the articles of luxury that only the rich can indulge in. It is the dearest kind of food in our market. It brings a higher price than canvasback duclc"" or woodcock. Tbe favorite food of the negro' of slavery days has become a dainty for tbe rich epicure. It has a conspicuous place on every table spread for a came dinner. Roasted in true Southern style, garnished with parsley and served with fried sweets potatoes, it is considered a dish fittosetjt before a king. The despised 'possum ia at last appreciated. And now people remember that Henry Clay, Alexander H. Stephens and other dis tinguished men of the South preferred 'pos sum to any kind of flesh, fish orfowl. Ther think it strange that our market isnot well supplied with this delicacy. They predict a most brilliant future for tbe very interesting; marsupial that is only found on this conti nent. Now that the deer and prairie chick en are disappearing they are glad that there is something to take their place. The opossum is easily domesticated. All you have to do to render it tame is to give it enough to eat. A Georgia farmer "who had ruined his land by raising continuons crop of cotton allowed it to grow up to pawpaw trees, surrounded it with a fence made -of . woven wire and stocked it with opossum. He.now gets a good crop every year without the employment of commercial fertilizers. He anticipated the coming demand for 'pos sum and proposed to supply it. HE WAS IS NO HDRRT. Why n Small Boy Would Defer His TIsIl to Heaven. Philadelphia Record.: At a Sunday school Christmas entertain ment a few days ago one of the speakers depicted the beauties of heaven in lan guage suitable to be di zested by the in fantile heads around him. He told them how the operations of a factory inspector's law there made 'it impossible for children to per.orm any greater labor than that required in eating candy, "and now," he asked, "how many little boys and girls in the infant class want to go to heaven?" All hands went skyward but one. "Why, little boy, don't yon want to go?" " Yeth, tbir," he said as he glanced at the pile of candy yet undistributed, "Yetb, tbir, but not for a few minutes yet. Tndigestion IS not only a distressing complaint, ot itself, but, by causing the blood to become depraved and the system en feebled, is the parent of innumerable, maladies. That Ayer's Sarsaparllla is the best cure for Indigestion, even when complicated with Liver Complaint, Is proved by the following; testimony from His. Joseph Lake, of Brockwf Centre, Mich.: I "Liver complaint -and indigestioa made my life a burden and came near ending my existence. For more than four years I suffered untold agony, was reduced almost to a skeleton, and hardly' had strength to drag myself abont. All kinds of food distressed me, and only the most delicate could be digested at au. Within the time mentioned several physicians treated me without giving re lief. Nothing that I took seemed to da any permanent good until I commenced the use of Ayer's Sarsaparllla, which, has produced wonderful results. Soon after commencing to take the Sarsapa- rilla I could see an improvement in myrf condition. My appetite began to return and with it came the ability to diges all the food taken, my strength im proved each day, and after a few months of faithful attention to your directions, I found myself a well woman, able to attend to all household duties. The medicine has given me a new lease of life." Ayer's Sarsaparilla, PBCTABXD BT Dr. J. C. Ayer it Co., Lowell, Mas trice $1; six bottles, $5- Worth (5 a bottleu If you shave a rri n . rrutw WWtoVWi WWMIII acute or leading to CONSUMPTION, SCOTT'S - i --. -I EMULSION OF PUKE GOD IXFER Ol AND HYPOPHOSPHTTXS OF XXXB JJHD SODJ. XS BTTHI1 ULUbt-E POK IT. ( This preparation contains the stimuli-! 1 tug properties oi wo iiypopnotphita i ana nne Aoncegvm voa lirt vu. used I br physicians au' th world over. It Is aa ' j palatable at milk. Three times as etaea- I Clous as mam ixxt xaver uu. A Dense Emulsion, better than all others made. For I I au forms oz Wasting instates, Bronchitis, coifsmrPTioir. Scrofula, and as a Flesh Producer j there is nothing ltte 5C0TTS EMOiSIM. I i It Is sold by all Druczlsts. Let no one by I profuse explanation or Impudent entreatr I inaucs you to accept a-saomurate. O0. nry n i 3 1 -M ,h jy- m
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers