THE RIPPLING RIVER OF RHYME. Fr ° m eMItUUI mOUDtBID9 M ° ke * TherippTnlßiver of Rhyme. 0! the.and of the U.y, the rea.m of the nnii lower roao, And in lost in the tide that gleams, The theme of a thousand sighs; Flows the wonderful river that winds its The birth of the blush when the blood is wav Hush, With u'song that Is all sublime, The light of lovein th«i ej'® a ' As it glimmers in glory and tells a sweet flight Ze ' The rippling River of Rhyme. ZfiSgJ 0 "" W ° Uld st y ream ftUJer OQ thi9 wonderful g6t lhe 9hlmmorlng sail9t And uiong on its surface glide? And let us journeying oe; , Then 'tis well that you know, if you're eager With n gladsome song we will gl de a.ong t J Through the Kingdom of Poes>. That n poet must be your guide. Till the rivor reaches the region fair. He will take yon into his golden boat, In that beautiful, bountiful ellme. And, losing all trace of time. Where life is a boon.and the ' world » attune You will sail in a dream on the slumberous At the end of the River of Rhyme. Arthur Lewis Tubbs, in the Philadelphia Bulletin. j JOB'S RUSE. [ 1 S A New England winter scene—the hemlock forests all draped with er mine fringes of snow—the hills and valleys white as if they were coated with pearl, while from the farmhouse chimneys in the gray thickets of leaf less maples under the rocks a blue spiral of spoke went wreathing and curling up into the steely January sky, and the sunset,reflected on the myriad tiny window panes of the western front, made an orange sparkle of brightness that supplied the otherwise lacking element of color to the frigid landscape. Farmer Westerbrook had just brought in an armful of snow-crusted logs from the woodpile at the north end of the house,throwing them down on the ample stone hearth with a noise like a small earthquake, when Sibyl Harrington started up. "Five o'clock! Oh, I hadn t an idea it was so late. I must be going. "Allow me to accompany you, Miss Harrington." "You will let me see you home, Sibyl?" Captain Meredith and Max Crosslev both spoke at once and rose simul taneously, but Sibyl shook her head. "I would prefer to walk alone," she said, gayly. "And about the sleighing party to morrow night?" said Max anxiously. "I—l have half promised Captain Meredith," said the village beauty,her long eyelashes drooping and a delicate shade "of rose suffusing her cheek. "But, Sibyl,l thought it was an un derstood matter between you and me three good weeks ago!" Max exclaimed with contracting brows. "Was it? I am sure I had forgot ten it!" Max was silent. Captain Meredith's smooth, softly intoned voice tilled up the silence. "I exact uo promises," he said gal lantly; "but if I am not punctual to the hour and the spot Miss Harring ton may draw her own conclusions." And Sibyl went out, her !'ght foot steps making a low, pleasant music on the brittle snow. She was very pretty, this gazelle eyed New England damsel, with big blue eyes turning to a limpid purple whenever she was in the least excited; hair short, hung iu a golden fringe over her broad, low forehead, and the sweetest of rosy mouths, with three sentinel dimples on cheeks and chin! Max Crossley had loved her ever since they were children together, and Cap tain Meredith, who had come down to pass the holidays with his cousins, the Westerbrooks, had been caught iu the meshes of that bronze-gohl hair and the interlacing network of the lashes that overhung the purple-blue eyes and had prolonged his visit iuto Janu ary. "Upon my word, she's a regular beauty," said the captain, staring through the tiny window panes at the retreating footsteps of Miss Harring ton. Max Crossley looked quickly up at him, as if he would have particularly liked to knock hiin over the andirons in among the logs; but perhaps he thought better of it, for he refrained from any such demonstration. "A beauty," went on the captain, "and it's a thousand pities she should be thrown away on any of the country bumpkins who vegetate among these wildernesses. Job,you young villain, are those boots of mine blacked yet?" Farmer Westerbrook's hired boy, who had just come iu to warm his em purpled hands at the merry,red blaze, looked glum. "Xo, they ain't," said Job,brusque ly- "Well, what's the reason?" " 'Cause I ain't 'ad time." "See that you find time, then, and that quickly, too!" said the captain. And Job glowered after him as he went gayly up the stairs. * "I just wish I had the servin' of him out," said Job, gloomily. "It's 'Job, do this,' aud 'Job, do that,' and •Job, wliere's the warm water?'and'Job, what the deuce do you mean by lettiu' my fire go out?' as if I was his bond slave, and not a red cent has he guv I me yet—no, nor so much as a pleasant word! I wonder if he means to stay here always." "Yon aud I are equally partial to him, Job," said Max Crossley, laugh ing. "I heard him talking with Miss Sibyl about goin' sleigh ridiu' tomor row night," said Job, shrewdly. "I should jes' like to put Kicking Billy in the shafts, I would, if it waren't for Miss Sibyl. He don't know noth in' about horses, that there militia ' cap'n don't." And Job chuckled. "I say, Mr. Crossley," he resumed, "why don't you get bsforeliand witli him? Miss Sibyl dou't really care for him—she's only dazzled like." Max Crossley frowned slightly; hon est Job was not exactly the kind of Ganymede he cared to have meddle with his love affairs. "Miss Harrington must choose for herself, Job," he said, and Job went back to his work, secretly wondering how a young lady gifted with ordinary common sense could hesitate for a mo ment between the captain and Mr.Max Crossley. The next night came—a night of all nights propitious for sleighing expedi tious and rustic love making, the roads delightfully hard and well jmcked aud a glorious full moon shining down as whitely as if a rain of silver were del uging the whole world! "Couldn't be better weather!" said the captain. "Job, where are the sleighbells?" "Dnuno," quoth Job, indifferently. "There's them old jinglers in the gar ret that used to belong to Deacon Joe Westerbrook that was in the revolu tionary war. aud there's the two cow bells that Mary Ann might scour up with ashes—" "Pshaw!" said the captain, "do you take me for Kip Van Winkle? There's a pretty little string somewhere, for I saw them when Mrs. Westerbrook went out day before yesterday." "I hain't seen nothiu' on 'em," said Job. "Come, come, don't make yourself out any stupider than you be by na ture, Job," said the farmer,laughing, nevertheless, for the captain's airs 112 and graces were fast wearing out welcome, and he secretly sympathized with the much-afflicted Job. "I guess they's out in the barn chamber. You better go with him, captain, if you ex pect to find 'em—our Job's dreadful thick-headed when he chooses to be." "Come along, my tine fellow," said the captain jocosely,collaring Job and marching him off in the direction of the old red barn under the hill. "We don't need any lantern in this bright moonlight, that is one comfort." Old Billy, renowned for his kicking qualifications, blinked sagely around at them from his stall, aud Tom, the little gray pony, who was destined to figure iu the cutter shafts that night., set up a low, friendly whinny as they entered the big, frosty, fragrant barn. "Where are the stairs?" demanded the captaiu. "There ain't none," said Job. "It's a ladder." "Up with you, then," said Meredith, but Job shrank steadfastly back. "I wouldn't for $50," said Job. "Old. Michael Westerbrook hung him self from the middle beam 14 years ago, and folks say he stands up there with a rope around his neck every moonlight night." "Stuff and nonsense!" ejaculated the captain in accents of supreme con tempt. "ifoit great cowardly lout, stay where you are, then, and 111 go myself." He sprang nimbly up the rounds of ladder aud disappeared through the trap-door. "Where is it?" he called. "The ghost? Bight under the mid dle beam by the windy was the place where—" "Blockhead! I mean the string of bells." "Look for 'em yourself," snid Job, sulking. "I don't know where they be, and what's more. I don't care." "I'll settle with you,my fine fellow, when I come down!" said the captain threateningly, as he groped about iu the dim light which was admitted by a cobweb window at either end of the bain chamber. "Don't hurry yourself, cap'n," re joined Job, in a jeering mood. As the captain plunged into a dark corner, there was a jingle, and the string of bells suspended from a nail hit him directly on the neck, so like the grasp of death-cold fingers that he could not but start. "Oh!" said the captain, nervously. "Here they are. Catch 'em, Job! Hal-lo! Where's the trap-door?" And it took the militia man fully 00 seconds or more to realize that the trap-door was closed and fastened on the lower side. He rushed to the window and threw it up, only to see Job speeding up the hill. "Hal-10-o-oa!" yelled Captain Mere dith. "Come back, you scoundrel! yon ill-conditioned lout! you imp of evil I" Job turned round and executed that peculiar gyration of the fingers in con nection with the nasal protuberance which is supposed to express the ex tremity of scorn. "You'll find the ladder on the barn floor, cap'n," hooted this young rebel. "And don't be afeard o' the ghost. It's very harmless if you let it alone." "But, Job - Job. come back —l'm to be at Mr. Harrington's at halt-past seven!" "Don't worry!" hoarsely bawled Job. "Miss Sibyl won't wait very long afore Mr. Max'll be on hand." The captain danced up and down the barn floor in an ecstacy of rage as Job disappeared over the crest of the hill. There was no use calling for help. He knew very well that if he had possessed the lungs of Boreas he could not have made anyone hear. He sat shivering at the souud of Kioking Billy's feet among his snug bed of straw and thinking how disagreeably a bar of moonlight which streamed down from a crack in the apex of the roof, resembled a tall,white figure standing under the centre beam. He could almost fancy the rope round its neck pshaw! And the captain jumped up again, with starting dew on his temples, even in the freezing atmosphere of the barn chamber. What was to be done? he asked him self. And Echo, if Echo had had any common sense, would have answered, "Just nothing at all!" Job had out witted him. He might and probably would "settle" with Job for the fu ture, but for the present Job had manifestly the advantage of him. And pretty sibyl and Max Crosslev, with his red cutter and great chestnut-col ored horse! The captain executed an impromptu series of gymnastics in the hay as he reflected on all these things. "I won't wait another minute for him," said Sibyl Harrington, coloring up with the tears in her blue eyes. "Goon, girls; I shall spend the even ing at home." "There's plenty of room for you in our sleigh, Sibyl," coaxed her brother, a great good-humored athlete, with red whiskers and dimples like her own. "Bessy Brown will be glad to have you along." I "No, she will not, either," pouted Sibyl. "As if I were going to spoil all iier fun! No; if I can't have an es- ■ eort of my own I'll stay at home and mend stockings. And I never —never will speak to Captain Meredith again!" I Hosea Harrington was just opening J his mouth to argue the matter with • his sister once more when the door opened and in walked Max Cross ley. Sibyl jumped up, radiantly; she j never had been so glad to see honest 1 Max iu all her life before. "Not gone yet, Sibyl'? Where is the captain?" •'I don't know," said Sibyl, tartly, "and I don't care. Am I Captain < Meredith's keeper?" "Of course," said Max, "I can't ex pect to make myself as agreeable as the city captain, but " "The captain! the captain!" cried Sibyl, a little irritably. "I'm sick of the sound of his name! I never want to see him again! What a nice new cutter this is, and how cozy the wolf robes are!" "Sibyl," whispered Max, as he ! touched up the horse and felt her nest ling close to him, "is it for always?" "Yes, always," she answered. * * « * * * "Je-rusaleui!" said Farmer Wester brook. It was past ten o'clock at night,and the old gentleman had come out, as he always did the last thing before retir ing to rest, to seo that Job had not set the bain on tire and that the dumb members of his family were all safe and comfortable. "I do believe that's old Mike Westerbrook's ghost come to life again, poundin' like all possessed on the uarn chamber floor!" "It's me-e! It's me-e-e!" bawled the captain, forgetting all the nicer distinctions of grammar iu his delight at the prospects of release; "unfasten the trap-door; let me out!" Slowly the farmer lifted the ladder , and adjusted it in its place. With 'rheumatic awkwardness he climbed the creaking grounds and undid the hook from its hasp. "How in all creation came you here?" he demanded. "Why,l thought you was out a sleigh-ridin' with tho gals!" "It was all the doing of that villain, Job!" gasped the infuriated captain, his teeth chattering with mingled rage and cold. "I won't stand this sort of thing. I'll leave the place tomorrow!" "As you please," said the farmer,to whom the prospect of losing his guest was not altogether unpleasant. "I'm dreadful sorry this should have hap pened though, and I'll talk seriously to Job." "So will I," gnashed tho captain. "I'll break every bone in his body." But Job, wiser in his generation than the children of light, had taken particular care togo over to his grandmother's, six miles across the snowy fields, to spend tho night, and the only person the captain saw was old Mrs. Westerbrook sitting by the kitchen fire. "You've lost your chance,captain," said she, good humoredly. "Dorcas Smith has jnst gone by on her way home from the sleighing party,and she says Max Crossley brought Sibyl Har rington in his new cutter, and they're engaged." The captain went home the next day according to program, and Mrs. Max Crossley has never seen him since. And when the affair came off Job got a piece of wedding cake big Miough to give him the dyspepsia for week. The Conductor Misunderstood. 4 •There is a sort of audacity," saya a woman in the Chicago Inter Ocean, "which is almost admirable. I really felt provoked when the conductor on a North Side car persistently carried me two blocks beyond my destination, especially as I had been energetically signalling him for several minutes. 'Why did you not stop when you saw me waving my hand?' I demanded. The conductor (he was young, good looking and Irish) bowed low in con triton. 'but upon me honor, ma'am, 11 ouuh» ye was throrria# me a kiss,' h ' said." i NEW YORK FASHIONS. 1 FG THE LATEST DESIGNS FOR BETWEEN-SEA |« SONS' COSTUMES. NEW YORK CITY (Special).—While excessive use of silk and velvet upon the costumes designed for little girls is undoubtedly in questionable taste, AFTERNOON GOWN FOR A GIRL. writes May Manton, trimmings com posed of one or both are greatly in vogue and give entirely satisfactory results. The little frock shown is at once serviceable and dressy and can be made from any woolen material and plain or plaid, and in any color pre ferred. As illustrated cashmere iu rich Cuban red is chosen, the trim ming frills of black satin ribbon and the yoke white broadcloth decorated LADIES' HOUSE GOWN. with the same tiny frills while at tlie waist is worn a sash of much wider satin ribbon. The waist lining fits snugly and to- , gether with the outer portion closes ' at the centre back. On it are ar ranged the yoke and the waist proper, | the fronts of which are tucked over j the shoulders and are extended to t form the odd revere. The sleeves are snug fitting but finished with putt's at j the shoulders so preserving the de sired childish effect. The skirt is gored and fits smoothly ' across the front and over the hips, all , the fulness being arranged at the back. Round the bottom are three rows of the velvet ribbou which cross and form an effective trimming for the front. To make this gown for a girl of eight years two and one-half yards of materiel forty-four inches wide will be required. StyliaH House (ionn. No combination of colors is more fashionable or more delightful to the eye than Parma violet and black. The attractive and stylish house gown, il lustrated in the large engraving, unites soft wool Henrietta in the former shade with trimmiegs of black and in every way suited to all informal home wear. The yoke, which is a feature of the season, is of black Liberty satin laid in tucks and a ruche of the same trims the skirt and edges the frills, but the narrow bands, and the waist ribbon are both of velvet. The fitted lining is snug but not over tight, and extends only slightly below the waist line. To it are at tached the yoke, the full graceful fronts and the Watteau back, which always lends dignity to the wearer. The sleeves are small enough for style, yet not sufficiently tight to mean in convenience or annoyance. Cashmere, challie, dray d' 'ete, light weight serge, French flannel and taffeta silk are all suitable material 3 and are all in style, but silk is more commonly reserved for matrons and elderly folk. To make this gown eight yards of material forty-five inches wide will be required. A Skirt With Circular ICuftle*. A very stylish costume of silk and wool novelty goods has the skirt fin ished with circular ruffles, with a coat above it, very long at the back, and cut away in front to show a Vandyke waistcoat of dark velvet, the long points of the gilet falling six or eight inches below the belt. The coat is finished with revers of the same vel vet, and around the coat is a high fur collar. Chevlotft Wear Well* Cheviots easily retaiu the vantage ground among materials for all-around wear. Both solid colors and melanges are in vogue, but tho former is more in evidence in the finest qualities, more especially when a full costume is un der consideration. Cheviots in designs and weights ihat are exact counter parts of materials for gentlemen's wear are chosen for separate skirts and jacket suits. Lateflt Novelty In Wainta. Fancy wauts including two or three materials are among the latest novel ties offered anil are alike suited to entire gowns and the separate bodice that fills so many needs. The model illustrated includes all the newest features and can be relied upon as entirely correct for spring wear; while at the same time it is emi nently well suited to present needs. As shown, the foundation is of dove colored taffeta, the yoke and front aro of palest gray net with guimpe of iridescent sequius, the edges are fin | ished with trimming which includes . similar bits of brilliancy, ami the ' revers and cuffs are of cerise velvet I faced with white satin; but almost I innumerable combinations can be de j vised so long as the velvet which , gives the final up-10-date touch is pre served. While stylish in the extreme and elaborate in eft'ect, the adjustment is : in reality quite simple and requires nc special skill. The foundation liuing , fits snugly and is cut with the usual pieces and seams, but the outer por tions show shoulder and under-arm seums only after the latest mode. The sleeves are small, but not overtight, FANCY WAIST FOR A WOMAN*. and the neck is finished with a deep straight collar supplemented by up standing frills of cream wliite lace. To make this waiut for a woman of medium size one and three-quarter yards of material forty-four inches wide will be required with five-eighth* yard of silk for collars and plastrou. FIELD AND FOREST CALL. There is a field, that leans upon two hills. Foamed o'er with flowers, and twinkling with clear rills; That, In its girdle ot wild acres, bears The anodyne of rest that cures all cares; Wherein soft wind and sun and sound are blent. And fragrance—as in some old instrument Sweet chords—calm things, that nature's magic spell Distils from heaven's azure crucible, Ana pours on earth to make the sick mind well. There lies the path, they say— Come away! Come away ! There Is a forest, lying 'twixt two streams, Sung through of birds and haunted of dim dreams; That in its league-long hand of trunk and leaf Lifts a green wand that charms uway all grief; Wrought of quaint silence nnd the stealth of things Vague, whispering touches, gleams and twit terings. Dews and cool shadows—that the mystic soul Of nature permeates with suave control And waves o'er earth to make the sail heart whole. There lies the road, they say— Come away ! Come away ! —Madison Cawein. HUMOROUS. "It is a bad plan to rake up n'd quarrels." "Yes, at onr house we cau always find plenty of new ones." Weary Watkins—Don't you wish we didn't lmf to eat? Hungry Hig gius—An' Lave notliin' to live fer? Hull! "Now that his father is dead I sup pose Goodby - will spend all his money." "Ob, no; begets married tomorrow," Pa—What's baby crying for, Dolly? Dolly—Just 'cos I showed her bow to eat her cake. Aunt Jane—lt's so pleasaut to have a baby in the house. Walker—How can it be pleasant when there is a con tinual squall? Friend - So the editor sends you his paper tree? Poet —Yes; lie says I needn't subscribe if I won't contrib ute any more. "Marie, I thought your doctor told you that you were not strong enough to rule a bike?" "Yes; but I went to unother doctor." Hicks—Do you have running water iu that new suburban cottage of yours? Wicks—No, but we have water in tbe cellar! "Nothing so hard but search will llnd it out," The poet writes—untrue, beyond a doubt; When she the truth would hide, no bard nor sage Can learn the figures of a woman's age. "This is a ticklish undertaking," said the fly as he skirmished out across the bald spot on the head of the irri table old gentleman. Pastor—Have you seriousl; consid ered the great question of life, Mary? Girl Parishioner —None of the men has asked me yet, sir. Teacher—ln this stanza, what is meant by the line, "Tue shades of night were falling fast?" Bright Scholar—The people vera pulling down the blinds. Miss De Style—Oh, Major! Did you ever goto a military bull? Old Veteran—No, my dear young lady; in those days I had a military ball couie to me. It nearly took my leg off! She —I do so hate to see a man walk ing along the sidewalk with his -.vil'o following two or three feet behind him. He—Perhaps that is his only cbauce to get ahead of her, poor man. The Lady—You here ngaiu? The Tramp—Y'es, kind lady. "Well, I won't help you again. I don't believe you've done a thiug all winter!" "In deed I have, mum; I just dono thirty days." Judge—Do you know the proso cutor in this case? Witness—Y'es, sir. Judge—What cau you say of his veracity? Witness —Well,your honor, he was' once a life insurance agent ant | — Judge—That will do. Case dismissed. Why He Wan Puzzled. Bilkius and his wife occupied seats in he dre;-s circle. The curtain had in i gone up for the second act, the first scene showing the heroine in street costume. As Bilk ins rested his ;>aze upon the woman his face wore a puzzled expression. Several times ho took hurried glances at the program he bad in bis hand. He b came ho deeply interested that he attracted tho attention of his wife. '• hat do you see that interests you so?" inquired his wife. "She isn't pretty." "Mary, isn't that the same hat that woman wore in the last act?" ex claimed Bilkius, seemingly ignoring his wile's