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19 ITPUSIIKD IVrPT WKHNSKDAT, BY
J. K. WENK.
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Job work, cash ou delivery .
Vol. XV. No. 2.
TIONESTA,PA, WEDNESDAY, APRIL 5, 1882, $1.50 Per Annum.
f1 rl O
The Shadowed Cross.
la we lded lovo our lives had twined
One year ono carolcus, goldmi year
And then bo died, my darling died;
And, for.tlie joy that harbored there,
My heart was filled with dark despair.
I traced the haunts ho lored the best
In dear, lost days alas, so brief I
And tiit'iu'ry's breathings, onoe so sweet,
But fanned the furnace of my grief:
They brought no team to my roliof.
At early dawn I sought his grave,
'Mid quaint-carved stonoa, o'ergrown with
lllOrW,
And lo I upon the hallowed mound
In seeming emblem of my loss
There full the shadow of ft Cross.
And, kneeling there in tearloss woe,
Tthniight I beard my darliDg say:
" Oli, lovo I thy grief ft shadow is,
Which, as ft dream, shall pass away,
Where shadow melt in cloudless day I" ,
Then found my anguish rent in tears,
Strange toara of hoav'n-boru Jpeaoe, tha
shed t
Around my soul ft holy calm:
And when I rose, thus comforted,
Tho shadow from the grave hftd f 1
a Oovd Wordi.
An Unceremonious Wedding.
"One thing I am determined npon,"
remarked Mrs. Sue Hathaway, deci
sively. " Yon, Fan, shall have a de
cently ceremonious wedding. When I
think of the harum-scarum way in which
Chtrley and I were thrown at one an
other, the wonder 1b not that we haven't
quarreled since, but that we were ever
really married at all."
" Tell me all about it, Bue dear,"
coaxed Mrs. Hathaway's youngest and
' pet sister, as she folded and replaced
in their boxes the dainty articles which
she was preparing for her own trou
stau. "Yen have alwavB spoken of
your wedding day as the most un
happy day of yonr life; but I cannot
conceive how that can be, when yon
and Charlie love one another so dearly."
And if we bad not yvtd each other
beyond all possibility of quarreling, we
would certainly have broken oar en
gagement an hour before the ceremony
was really performed. I sincerely trust,
dear Fan, that your married life may bt
as happy as mine has proved, and thai
heaven may defend yon from a wedding
day a chaotio as mine."
' My remembrance of the affair Ik
that it was a perfect success. You are
snch a manager, Sue, you are always in
request for tableaux and private theat
ricals. I never knew an occasion which
you were not equal to, from a charity
bazaar to the state dinner the ladies gave
the foreign deputation. I was only
eight years old when you were married;
but I remember that I was your bride
maid, and that I wore a puffed mull,
with pink kid gloves. They were the
first kid gloves I ever had, and I was as
proud as a peacock of them. I wouldn't
carry a bouquet for fear of soiling and
hiding them, but marched in, arm in
arm with Isabel's oldest boy, with my
hands displayed as conspicuously as
possible."
And do you happen to remember
what a scamp that boy was? He was
the cause of mora than half my tribu
lation, lie was a regular little Ishmael
'his hand against every man, and
every man's hand against him.' And
when I think what a Bohemian Isabel
has been all her life, and of the wildly
prepoRterons way in which she was mar
ried, I don't wonder. She was study
ing abroad when she met her hus
band. They had both gone to Europe
for a number of years, and they con
cluded to be married at the' Ameri
can consul's, and continue their foreign
residence, instead of coming home for
the ceremony. They were married in
the evening and took a steamer imme
diately after for some Mediterranean
port. Isabel's trunks had been sent
on board during the afternoon, but
when they drove down to the wharf at
nig Ut they found that the snip had
moved from its anchorage, and they
were obliged to hire a waterman to row
them out. The water was very rough,
' and in a sudden lurch of the little
boat Isabel was thrown overboard. She
was promptly rescued by her husband
an I got safely on board, but in a com
pletely drenched condition. Now comes
the ridioulous part. It was a oargo
steamer which only carried a limited
number of passengers, and it so hap
pened that there were no other ladies
on board. Isabel's trunks were buried
in the hold where it was impossible to
get at them, and the valise which had
fallen into the water with her, had gone
to the bottom, and Isabel retired to
her stateroom to improvise a toilet out
of some flannel underclothing of the
captain's and two Marseilles bed
spreads." IIow very dreadfull" exclaimed
Fan, choking with laughter.
" She succeeded, too ; she basted up
a wrapper of the bedspreads with a
Watteuu plait in the back, trimming
the front with a Turkish towel torn in
strips, and breakfasted next mor. ing
in that costume. Her husband told me
he never saw her dressed so becom
ingly." I always thought Isabel was a ge-
nius," Fan remarked, admiringly.
'Yes, but what a very singular pro
ceeding ! Isabel is tivo years older
than I am, and I look up to her for cer
tain qualities. But she has no idea of
ceremony or etiquette, and the utterly
1 '. h convention. Now I pay that
' t!'(irri?d at all is a cenvi.--tioa to
conventionality, und if you are going
to acknowledge the claims of society so
far as that, you might as well do tho
thing respectably and in good form. I
am a manager, as you Bay, and it was
for that very reason that the ertire
arrangement of my wedding was left to
me. We were living in the old family
mansion in the country, two miles from
the church, and of course the wedding
had to be at the house. This troubled
me from the first, for the ceremony is
always so muoh more solemn and im
pressive before the altar, and I
wanted to think of it as a
sacrament, to really feel the sacredness
of the vows I was taking upon myself.
Instead of this, I knew perfectly well
that I should be distracted by
people whispering and giggling dur
ing the minister's very prayer. What
restraint can there be in parlors where
one has danced the German a score of
times, and whero one expects to dance
again in a few moments ? Besides, the
house was to be crammed with com
pany, and I was morally certain that
evorything would be in confusion.
Charlie's family were ooming; they are
very aristocratic; and I was more afraid
of them then than I am now, especially
of his sister Adelaide. She is the most
envious and spiteful creature in the
world, did all she could to spoil the
matoh, wanted Charlie to marry some
particular friend of hers. Then there
was Aunt Sue Stockstill, for whom I
was named. We were all very fond of
her, and our love was tempered with a
respectful admiration which amounted
almost to fear.
" The entire second floor was given
up to guests, and we were huddled iu
the little bedrooms under the mansard
roof. You and I had Bridget's room,
and she slept on a pallet in the kitchen.
Charlie had a cot bed in the hall. All
of our boys slept in the stable loft.
Father swung himself up in the ham
mock on the back veranda; it was July,
but he took a horrid cold all the same
Mother had the trunk room until Isabel
arrived with her two boys, when it was
given up to her, and mother camped on
the lounge in the back parlor. Now
that is only the background to the pio
ture. We had no city caterers to pro
vide the banquet Mother made every
cake, and had her hands quite full
enough to provide a handsome table
daily for her guests. I had loads of
beautiful flowers sent me, and Isabel
took the decorating of tho parlors off
my hands. That was really a great
help, for she has exquisite taste and
rare inventivegenias. She rigged a su
perb wedding bell out of an old hoop
skirt, and turned the old rooms into
bowers of beauty. But I had all of the
reoeiving and entertaining of the guests
upon ray hands, and all the little ar
rangements to make which are al
ways left to the last moment. Your
dress came, and had t.ibe altered; I sat
up late into the night to do it. Then
you and your tiny groomsman had to
rehearse your entree, and your young
nephew did behave abominably. He
caught your drees out of my hands and
raced with it downstairg into the par
lors. He got himself up at the last
moment like a wild Indian, instead of
dressing as ho should hae done. He
left the water running until it soaked
through the ceiling below; he hung the
cat over the balustrade, and made a
bonfire in tho wood-house; he sifted a
quart of salt into the ioe cream as it was
being frozen in the cellar. There was
no end to tho pranks that fellow per
petrated. The wedding presents were
displayed in the library. They were
superb. I had not expected anything bo
beautiful. But Adelaide whispered
about that with the exception of one
dozen spoons it was all plated ware, and
that half of the porcelain and brio-a-brac
was hired for the occasion.
" Isabel repeated her remarks to me
just in time to raise my angry passions
to a white heat, and to send me down
stairs inwardly raging on my wedding
morn. We were to be married at noon
precisely, in order to take the 3 o'clock
iraia for the city. I had a very elabor
ate and becoming traveling costume.
which I had decided to wear, with the
addition of a real white Spanish lace
mantilla arranged as a veil. Aunt Sae
met me at breakfast. 1 My dear child,'
she said, ' I can't bear to think of your
not being married in white. Nothing
else is suitable for a bride. Wear the
India muslin in which you looked so
lovely at your graduation.
" 1 did not dare displease Aunt Sue;
but the muslin was crumpled and yel
low; it would iook are-vdlully by day
light. There was still time, and I de
termined to have shutters closed, cur
tains drawn, and the rooms lighted as
for evening. Brother Ned helped me
arrange four dozen wax candles on
brackets among the flowers. When they
were lighted, the rooms mode me think of
Victor Hugo's description of the mar
riage of Oorinne. It was as brilliant
and sparkling as fairyland, and the
tumbled muslin would look very well,
I ran upstairs to dress. But first I had
your hair to curl and gloves to fit, and
then I must need wash the vermilion
from the face of that boy. Then
Charlie, who was vainly trying to tie his
cravat without a glass (he had dressed
in the bath-room), came to me for assist
anoe, and I saw the minister drive up
to the door before I had begun my
toilet. I was half dressed when Char
lie tapped at the door. 'Sue Sue,
dear I they are having a council of war
downstairs, and they don't like the idea
of our being married by artificial light
in the daytime. The majority think it
an affectation, and it rather strikes me
so, too. Isabel abked me to ask you
to let her take down the candies. She
diJu't ct ra to e'.'euk to you about it
herself; she said yon had so much to
fret yon,'
" Tell her to take them down,' I re
plied, in a choked voice, and then I
burst into tears. It was the lost straw,
and Charlie and I came nearer to quar
reling then and there than we ever did
in our lives. I hadn't the heart to go
on with my dressing, but sat and boo
hooed until Charlie came to the door
again to say that the company was wait
ing. Then I dashed into my clothes.
I had no time to comb my hair, but
Charlie pinned the lace veil over it
rather awkwardly, so that we deluded
ourselves into the idea that it did not
show, and I stood up in my creased and
second-hand gown, with unkempt hair,
and face and eyes swollen with weeping,
and was married, with the glare of noon
day displaying all defects. They say
thtt the consciousness of being well
dressed gives a "peace of mind which
even religion cannot impart. Imagine,
then, my torture to be a gazing-stock at
such a time before all those people I I
had it in my heart to murder them all and
then kill myself. Then afterward. We
had thought, of course, that the com
pany would remain and dine with
our family, and then take
the evening train for the city.
But no. Adelaide thought it would be
so jolly for all to go down en masse.
Ned had to drive like mad to the livery-
stable to get conveyances for them all,
and Charlie and I got to the station in
separate carriages. The engine was
decorated with evergreen and flags in
my honor, but the conductor thought
Adelaide warf the bride, and gave her
my seat, and 1 was very nearly left, for
Ned came driving me up with our slow
old Pilgrim just as the conductor had
given the signal for starting. Charlie
was on the rear platform waiting for me.
He pulled the cord violently, and jerked
me on, while Ned gave me a parting
push. My elegant traveling costume
was torn half off me. How every one
laughed ! and Aunt Sue made a spec
tacle of me by producing her housewife
'and sewing me up before the assembled
multitude. Then half of the party went
to the Bame hotel that we did, and it
leaked out that we were a newly mar
ried couple, and altogether it was the
most completely mortifying and dis
heartening day of my life."
"You poor thing! laughed Fan.
" If you had only had a nice competent
sister, as I have, to take all the worry
off your mind, then you could have
resigned everything to her good provi
dence, as I do, and have calmly awaited
your fate with folded hands."
"Yes; if I had had some one to rely
upon I might have given my thoughts
to more serious matters. Or if Charlie
had been more conservative in his
ideas, more punctilious in matters o
etiquette, he might have helped me out
but he did just as every one else does,
left everything to me, and I had the sat
isfaction of making a grand fiasco of it
all. But I will do better by you, Fan.
You are not to be married until June;
that will give us plenty of time to com
plete the arrangements. The ceremony
shall be at St. Andrew's, and I will give
you the most recherche of receptions,
lam very glad the professor has decided
to spend his vacation abroad; it is
just the thing for a bridal tour. You
can have your selection of the young
men from the graduating class, with
whom you flirted so unconscionably, for
your ushers. To think of your receiv
ing all that attention from the under
graduates, and then marrying a grave
professor 1 It does seem so funny."
"But he is not grave at all, Sue; and
he is very young for his honors. Only
thirty, and I am twenty-three, a real
old girl. You don't realize how time
flies."
" Well, if he is not old, he is at least
dignified and formal good material to
work with at the start. He would give
a certain prestige to . any occasion. I
shall have the satisfaction of seeing you
married in good style. You will re
deem the family."
' Mrs. Hathaway left the room with a
flutter of drapery, and Fan fell into a
muse. Her father and mother lived
alone now in the old family mansion,
Isabel was in Europe again, Ned and
the other boys were but West, whilst
she was whiling away the winter at
Sue's beautiful home in the city. She
was weary of society, and she wished
that summer was nearer, when Alston
could leave his college duties and claim
her. She cared as little for ceremony
as her Bohemian sister Isabel ; she
wished it all over, and herself settled
in a home of her own. Home 1 What
a delightful sound ! Should she ever
realize the word ?
There was a ring at the door. The
Eostman had brought her letters from
er professor and from her m.ther.
"Dak lino Faxnt" (wrote the first),
"I can't wait. June is a long, long
way off, for the winter is only just
begun. Moreover, there is no need of
waiting. We were idiots to think of it.
Mrs. Delanoy has gone South for the
winter and has advertised her lovely
home to let, furnished. You remember
it, do you not? It was at a sooiable
there, behind the garnet plush curtains
in the bow-window, that you told me
The house has had its associations for
me ever since. I never go by it in the
evening and see the light streaming
through the stained glass over the hall
door without fancying that it says to
me : 'I know your secret; I've a weak
ness for lovers.' That house is to let,
or, rather, it was ; it is so no longer,
for I have rented it. Don't start and
drop this paper. The house awaits
its mistress. I've told the kitchen girl
that you will appear Monday morn
iug. Now don't say you can't, for
I Lhvq juat rocdved a later from your
mother, and the thing is to be. She
thinks it deoidedly the most sensible
plan she has heard of lately. Why
should I spend my evenings in a boarding-house
for six months longer, when I
might toast my toes instead at my ain
fireside? The thing is preposterous.
I inclose your mother's letter to me, in
which you will see that she proposes
that I bring you to her next Saturday
evening. We can then be quietly mar
ried at church after the regular Sunday
service, and can start for our own home
by the early train Monday morning,
which will land me at the college in
time to attend to my regular classes. I
know that your Bister very kindly in
tended to make a social event of our
marriage; but I have a horror of
'events,' and, besides, I can't waifr.
She must come with yon and see the
knot properly tied. I will meet you
both at the depot at half past four
Saturday p. m."
The letter from Fan's mother re
enforoed the professor's plea, and gave
a maternal sanction to the hasty mar
riage. Fan ran to her sister's room,
only to ascertain that Bhe had gone out
in the carriage, the maid did not know
whither. It was Saturday, and half
past 3 in the afternoon ; and scribbling
a hasty note of explanation, which she
left upon her sister's dressing-table,
Fan packed a hand-bag und departed.
She reached the station a little too
early, and sat in a corner of the waiting-room,
enjoying watching the peo
ple come and go, trying to imagine
their histories, and wondering whether
they were going on errands like her
own. At last the train trundled in.
There was the usual hubbub of em
bracing friends, importunate cab
drivers, and hurrying travelers. She ea
gerly scanned each passenger who
emerged from the cars. Her professor
had not come. Inexperienced in the
ways of travel, she began to be nervous.
She still sat in the corner of the big
room, outwardly calm, but inwardly
quaking. A i old gentleman by het
side, who, like her, had watched the
crowd with meditative interest, his
stubby chin resting pensively on the
horn handle of his umbrella, turned to
her and remarked, "Such a power of
people 1 such a power of people I Nary
two on 'em alike ; nary one on 'em you
ever see afore 1"
At last she stepped to the ticket-office
and inquired the last train from the
college station. Yes, one would be in
at 8 o clock, but no train went out after
that to Edgeoliff, her mother's home.
Could she not go out at 9 o'clock to
Junction and catch the night express
at that point? "Yes, that was pos
sible;" and Fan sat down again and
waited. The 8 o'clock train brought
the professor, weary and anxious. He
hod lost the earlier train, and feared all
would go wrong in consequence. The
idea of the express at Junction
raised his spirits at once. They set out
in high glee, only to be dejayed by
the heavy drifting storm Bufliciently for
their train to reach the junction five
minutes after the express had left. Here
was a predicament 1 They stood to
gether upon the platform, stranded,
upon a stormy Saturday night, in a
strange town, the last train left for
everywhere, and the station-master
locking his door for over Sunday.
There were no carriages in waiting; and
inquiring the way for the nearest par
sonage they set out for a tramp to
gether through the storm. " Courage,
Fan," said the professor; "there is no
way out of the mess but to get married
as quickly as we can."
A meek-eyed minister's wife an
swered their summons. Her husband
was at home and sick in bed ; not so
ill, however, but Bhe thought he might
marry them, though he hod been some
what delirious during the day. They
might follow her into the bedroom;
she was sure no license was required.
And so the professor in his snow
flecked ulster (Fan thought hysterically
of her sisterB words, ' His presence
would give prestige to any occasion")
and Fan in her damp rubber water
proof stood together hand in hand by
the good man's bedside. Fever had left
him a little incoherent. He made the
professor promise to obey Fan, and Fan
to support the professor, but otherwise
they were soundly and sacredly mar
ried, and the minister's wife was made
to smile by a crumpled bill of large
amount pressed into her thin hand. A
telegram announcing the event winged
its way to Fan's mother, and a long
sleighride of twenty-seven miles across
the country carried Fan the next day to
her new home. But Mrs. Sue Hatha
way never, never forgave them their
unceremonious wedding. JIarper't
Bazar.
Kedwood.
A California writer says that the red
wood which is in demand there for un
derground use is what is known by the
lumbermen as black-heart redwood. It
shows a dark color when cut with a
knife, the outer poition only being sea
soned. This species of redwood is ex
ceedingly heavy too heavy to float.
One who has observed schooners load
ing along the coast assures the writer
that a post of this wood which plunges
overboard never rises, and a board
lingers on the surface a moment and
then slowly slides down into its depths.
This is the sort which is sought for in
the foundation of buildings, and under
brick walls is believed to be imperish
able. In this connection it is interest
ing to mention a fact concerning the
second growth of redwood, bhoots
from eld stumps have grown to three
and four feet iu diameter in forty years.
This would indicate restorative powers
in redwood forests which would in
sure a future supply of tha timber.
FOR THE LADIES.
Ijore and Light Heart.
I once inquired of a maiden of thirty
who was large, healthy and fair to look
upon, what kept her bo young-looking,
for she seemed scarce twenty. She re
plied: "Love. I have, besides my
mother, brother and sisters, and their
families, to love a host of friends and
admirers, so that I have no time to mope
and regret I'm not beautiful." And I've
often wished married women loved more,
for I verily believe if they did they
would keep healthy, young and hand
some longer than they now do. But
the cares and trials of life aie deep and
wearing, and we women are bo crowded
with them that few of us have time for
ennobling our lives in any direction. In
fact, we are too tired to even love, un
less it is our babies, whose little lives
clung so close to our own that they are
a part of it; and the songs and kisses
they call out of us tend to lighten the
daily task, so that the back bends under
its burden, instead of breaking.
The loving and happy wife and mother
is the handsome and healthy one, usu
ally. As old age overtakes her ehe
still keeps the lovelight in her eye, for
it has become habitual to her, and the
world is her family. The husband
would find his daily cares lightened if
he kept the thrill of affection as of old,
and if husband did not forget to be the
lover still it would be a better and a
happier world. Just imagine the
charmed life of the new-married couple,
and the effect of such love and life
upon the home and children perpetu
ally. .
Smiles bring dimples and roses to the
face. Laughter makes work easy, and
puts flesh on the bones, and unselfish
ness adds a charm to the owner that
gold cannot buy or thieves rob you of.
Our bodies are the houses our souls
live in, and whether it be a palace or a
hovel, depends on ourselves as build
ers and occupants. Shall we not teach
our little ones, then, to build wisely
and well to cultivate purity, cheerful
ness, generosity, charity and love ? How
can we better teach these things than
by first setting the glorious example ?
Jtwell, in California Agricu turist.
Fashion Notes.
Buff tints are revived.
New beiges are striped.
Ombre fabrics are out of style.
Chene silks are coming into favor.
Scarf rings are now worn by ladies.
Velvet ribbon is seen on new bonets.
Silk-muslin bows are worn at the
throat.
Very little jewelry is worn in the
street.
Half-mantles of velvet or moire are
worn.
Dark-green bonnets have pale-blue
plumes, and garnet bonnets have pink
plumes.
White chudda dresses for the house
are made in tailor fashions simple and
severe
Dark straw hats, with gloves and
hosiory to matoh, are announced for next
summer.
Sulphur yellow, with Jjrown, is a
stylish combination for' dresses and
bonnets.
Dolly Varden lives again in a new
polonaise, a novel neckerchief, and a
daintily shaped danoing shoe.
In spring costumes there is a tenden
cy to use lengthwise tucks in clusters in
the place of kilt plaitings and shirrings
Watered silks are combined with
cashmere, surah and plush in the
French costumes imported for misses
and little girls. .
Open work, wheel, and Kensington
embroidery, in Hamburg edgings and
ineer lions, form the bosom trimmings of
domestic chemises.
Tale rose and pure white dresses,
with silver and pearl accessories, form
the favorite evening toilet for young la
dies of high fashion.
Jerseys are brought out with a lace
lullle at the bottom, and lace bretelles
on each sido of the front, which is now
cut open and buttoned up.
Embroidered India muslin ball
dresses are worn over bright satin
skirts with the Camargo waist of ti.e
same material as the skirt.
Mousquetaire gloves are the most
popular, but ladies of good - taste wear
buttoned or laced gloves, if more be
coming to their Hands and arms.
Black, blue and lemon-oolored pocket
handkerchiefs of sheer linen, embroi
dered with contrasting colors, are among
the eccentric novelties lately imported.
Laco is the most fashionable, as well
as the most elegant and most econom
ical trimming for all costumes, wraps
and toilets light enough to admit of its
use.
Pettiooata are profusely trimmed with
needlework flowers, resembling the
needle-wrought bands that border the
new nun's veilings, ginghams and ba
tistes. For second cloaks, are inexpensive
wraps of the English homespun cloths,
in dark brown colors, with red threads
at intervals, or else of green cloth with
mustard yellow threads.
In many ' garments the style is en
hanced by having all the trimming
Elaoed lengthwise, both in front and
ack, rather than to shorten the ap
pearance of the wearer by a crosswise
border of great breadth.
Many satin grounds with colored
stripes are prepared for trimming, but
their novelty is the boldness of their
coloring. Imagine grenat with olive
, ttripea, sea preen with bronze, Tilleul
1 and rose porcelain blue with rosa and
reseda.
Soon!
Let it be soon I Lifo was Dot mado to long
For distant hours of dim futurity.
Thy presonce soothes me like some far-off
song.
Oh, where my heart has rented let it lie;
Hope is the morning; love the afternoon.
Let it be soortf
Let it ba soon I The treasured daylight dies
And changes nadly to the chill of night.
But summer reigns forever in thine eyes,
And at thy touch grief stealeth out of sight,
After sad years of longing love must swoon.
Let it be soon 1 '
ClemerM Scotl.
HUM Oli OF THE DAY.
What pain is most agreeable to a
burglar? Window-pane.
" The sassyeet man I ever met," e ays
Josh Billings, " is a henpecked hus
band when he is away from home."
It is pleasant to remember that no
an hour passes iu the increasing march
of time that there is not a half dressed
man somewhere on the face of the earth
calling for a shirt. Bame Sentinel,
A dollar-store pin young man,
A heart full or sin young man,
A atand-on-the-corner-y
Looking-forlorn-ery,
Tobacco-stained-chin young man.
Wilde Otcar, in Norrisixnon Herald.
"Does our talk disturb you," said
one of a company of talkative ladies to
an old gentlemen sitting in a railroad
station the other afternoon. " No,
ma'am," was the naive reply, "I've
been married nigh on to forty years."
Hartford Times.
"Why did you send me that almanai
Augustus?" asked Angelina. "Eocauno,
darling," answered Augustus, as he
vainly strove to twist the few downy
sprouts upon his upper lip into a curi,
" because, darling, I wished yon to se
lect a date for our the, aw cere
mony. " Oh, I seel" she said; then,
smiling a bewitching smile, she mur
mured: " Call it the first of April."
Augustus will some day succeed in rais
ing a mustache, but he goes to see An
gelina no more.-rSymerville Journal.
The Steubenville Herald explains
how the young man was a little loo
previous in the following fashion: He
sat at her feet in quiet peaoe. He looked
into her face and said softly: "Ah, dear,
I could sit here forever." "Could you,
love?" answered she. "Yesf sweet."
"You art quite sure you could, dar
ling?'' " I know it, my own." "Very
well, then, you sit there, for I have an
engagement to go out with young Mr.
Fitzspooner and I won't be back this
evening. Turn down the gas and fasten
the night-latch when you go away. Ta,
ta, dear." And she went out.
Tho Use of Wealth.
There are thousands of rich men who
are not skinflints who have the repu
tation of beiDg bo because they have
never been known to have done any
special good with their money. A man
who is worth $50,000 can do more to
make himself loved and respected by
all with whom be comes in contact, by
the judicious expenditure of a thou
sand dollars iu charity than by giving
the whole fifty thousand dollars after
he is dead. - It' seems as though it
would be mighty small consolation to a
millionaire to leave money to some
charitable purpose, after death, and be
so dead that he couldn't see the smiles
of happiness that his generosity had
created.
Suppose a millionaire who has never
had a kind word said of him except by
fawning hypocrites who. hope to get
some of his money, should lay out a
beautiful park worth a million dollars,
and throw it open free to all, with
walks, driveslakes, shade., and every
thing. Don't you suppose if he tock a
drive through it himself and saw thou
sands of people having a good timo
and all looking their lovo and respect
for him, that his heart would be warmed
n p and that his day would be lengthened.
Wouldn't every look of thanks be worth
a thousand dollars to the man who had
so much money that it mado him round
Bhouldered? Wouldn't he have more
pleasure than be would in cutting off
coupons with a lawn mower ? Feck's
Sun.
Ileu Vorllch's Echo.
An Austin man, of a literary turn of
mind, is very fond of his dog, that
barks day and night. A neighbor
asked what the dog's name was.
" Echo," was the reply.
" What kind of a name is that ?"
" It was the name of Ben Vorlich's
dog."
"Who the mischief is Ben Vorlich?"
The owner of the dog smiled in de
rision, and replied:
" You never could have read Walter
Scott's "Lady of the Lake." In the chase
Ben Vorlich was one of the principal
hunters. Echo is the nam of his dog.
Don't you remember where it says:
No rct Ben Vorlich's Echo knew V
"This dog never takes a rest either,
bo I call him Echo."
The neighbor did not Bay anything,
but that night he softly called Echo
to the fence, gave him a piece of sau
sage, and now Echo is as silent as Ben
Vorlich, and even more bo. 1'ctas
Stftings.
General C. A. Whittier's new resi
dence, Beacon street, Boston, will cott
$2,1)00,000. It will havo walls ninety
live feet high and twenty inches thk k,
and from fifty to fifty-five rooms ; also
the "largest, wine cellar in the eouutry."
On the fourth floor is a great tuun ?
rwm, ceiled and pantlod in Lard vt-.- '