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
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