MOVtUfBJU MT IHE SKA. siaoof-ths Ores mourners pals Bit idly watohlng so Idls nil. '9TOBTO tank r°° r shlpf One turned bar bead, the sweet Sploe Islands It Ilea" she said. "And often I fancy on days like these Their breath floats to me o'er southern seas." sank yonr ship T" "By tempests tossed, On a shore of amber and pearls' twas lost" "Ph, often I dream of Its beautiful bed, And the rainbow gleams that are round it ahsd 1" "Where sank your ship J" O.wan white faoa. Boss she know not then her lost IOVO'H placet "My ship sank not," she said, and ;aat A tiny shell on the waters vast. Be balmy odora nor gems of prioe 11. r dreams to its resting place entioe ; Her ship lies frozen in Arctic ice, —Christian Register. A MUSICAL ROMANCE. -A, ENEVRA PIER • SON and her vlo • " n occu P' ecl the im AiPV I Ml sky-parlor of a Hy■[*- ___ certain high < jWf house on Wins fTlmv JM) low street. Paul J I jj Wendorhoff ami \l ufsy' his piano dwelt, U )f ii\ lfji;'!"!, in the house op • AJvJn!l' j/ !: f il posite, on the M l',/, | | same level. The 0110 win " JvlHl' If/' ' dow in each room I il'l |'i faced the other, I MA directly over the I/) rather narrow i . thoroughfare. Whether the condition of the individual purses belonging to theso two had any ! lliing to do with the extremo altitude of their habitations, I am not called upon to answer, but would venture to guess , that it had. These two, then, neighbors only in name, chanced to removo their respec tive lares and penatos to this particular quarter of tho city at about the same time. was not much to remove. The mjjm> room of Genevra Pierson was sparely burnished, yet withal it wore a certain de'.ightful air of comfort, almost Incon ceivable under tho circumstances. An indefinable, artistic tone seemed to per vade the entire apartment, and the articles of furniture, though few in num ber, each possessod an individuality •charming to see. Everything in the girl's little home meant something. That it was a home could not be doubted. Over the way It was much the same. Paul Wenderhoff had lived his bachelor life so long that housekeeping came easy to bira. Jflere the furniture was rather more ex \ pensive and beautiful, though modest in ' the extreme. The chief feature of the ; the room, the piano—an old-fashioned ' square—he would have nothing to do with uprights—seemed to lend an air of f stately, old-time refinement to the lesser pieces of furniture'. A leather-covered effsy-chair; a hammock strung aitisll cally across one corner; a picture or two; a big, round table, littered with musical journals, current periodicals, and great stacks of sheet music; a low bookcase, L filled to overflowing with shabby, invit ing-looking volumes; a parrot In Its cage in the window. This constituted our hero's domain. One morning when Paul Wenderhofl hud returned from giving a lesson to a tiresome little piece of tyranny, and was exceedingly weary with the effort of forcing music into u child who hated the sight of a piano, for old association's sake, doubtless, he stretched himself lazily in the hammook for a half hour's siesta. Jezebel, the parrot, which rejoiced in the euphonious Scriptural name, he no- ■ tloed, seemed much interested in some thing across the street. He watched her indolently a few min utes. and jlaughed outright whon she suddenly put her head on ono side, and called "Hello 1" exactly as tho average boy proceeds to make friends with an other boy. Weuderhoff sat up in tho hammock and glanced across the street to the opposite house. The object of Jezebel's admiration proved to be a canary hung in its cage in the open window, trying to pick up its spirits and sing its littio song in tills strange, unpleasant quarter of a strange, k unpleasant city. Jezebel's sympathies wore evidently enlisted, and she carried on energetically her end of a conversation, reminding one of M'ondeiliotl lay back again and closed his eyes, wondering who his now vis-a vis might be. A lady, ho was sure, for on the window-sill a single plant, a bril liant, blossoming geranium made a bright spot in tho front of the high, gloomy building. • At last sleep came to his eyes. It was I not long in coming these warm days, anil Jezebel kept up her unceasing chatter unheeded. A music-loving natufe responds readily to music. There seems to bo a peculiar sensitiveness to sound and harmony, even when tho soul for a time is off its Mtard. It was so with Wenderhoff. He opened his eyes suddenly und list ened intently. Violin strains came from over the street. Some one was playing; no atna | teur, surely. i'lie touch soemed skillful, masterly, full of character und expression. Xhe melody, soft, subdued, plaintive, came over to him in littio waves of sound. It was a tender little air, the accom paniment of which ho had olten played for his own voice when alone. Not dilli- | cult und showy, hut full of pathos and I Ibneanlug. The player played it as though she I lovtjfl it. How odd if this were so, when 1 it was ono of his favorites jinong the simpler melodies! lie lay ami listened till the player ceased, thought a little, then roll.il but of ins hammock and sat down al the i piano. " How could his fingers help it! They played the self-same air, then a few rich chords, and then, in his clear baritone, he sung the words of the little song. Paul WenderhofTs voioe was beginning to at'iact attention among a certain lew to wltoso inustcaies he wis occasionally invited. In her room across the nurrow street the girl sat silent, her violin still in po sition, her eyes filled with surprise lis 'tening. The same melody, the same key, and that voice—what vibration, what feeling, what expression! She slipped tho mute on her instru ment, and followed softly tho melody, keeping time with the voice across the street. Ah, what a roseate iittle touch of ro- I inauce this ! Her cheeks flushed pink, *nd-iier brown eyea laughed as sho 11s iSlLd and played her part of the duet. A\ last it stopped, Neither player ' dared approach the window for fear at i seeing the other, and so Mistress Jeze zel and Cherry, the bird, had it ail their j own way. Life flowed on in Wlnslow street as it does everywhere; a little play, a great deal of work. Genevra, with her violin oast', went out every morning to tako her lesson, and every afternoon to give les sons to tho lew whom she hud managed to secure as pupils. Her evenings were her own. No one, alas, required her talent evenings—yet. Often in the twilight, alone, with ier violin, thoughts of her happy, pro-; . r ous past came thronging to her mind, and tears of homesickness for all tnat was gone filled her eyes. Then it seemed, as though she played her host. Wenderhoff, siiiing at the window in the dusky summer ■ vonings, listened, und knew that the girl was im provising. vie was thrilled with admiration for her power. Ho knew, as only music lovers know, that lessons inl" ite could not have given her thai grace and beauty of every note. It was nature not art. lie knew how passionately she must love her violin to pour o t in music fas she did) her very soul. He could read, almost, iter thoughts by the melody she evoked. Sometimes pati.etio and full of exquis ite tenderness—then her eyes must be tearful.and her lips tremulous; sometimes smooth, flowing, steady, like a quiet river-—then her heart must be at rest and peace; sometimes dating, brilliant, ami quick—then her eager, artistic soul must be ablaze with hopes for the future und dreams of fume. And Wenderhoff bore his part in the mutual entertainment. one moonlight night, when a holy hush seemed to fill the usually noisy street below, and a Sabbath calm was in his heart, he played the Moonlight Bonata. Genevra Pierson sat with hands clasped tightly, her breath constrained, her dark head raised slighuy, listening with all her soul, hoping it would never cease. When it did, she took her violin to thank him. The little message floated over tho way and was under stood. Into tho girl's dull life of routine hud come a sweet mystery, a romance sim ple, beautiful. Into Paul Wenderhoff s life had en tered that which should never go out uuy more. Unce in'a while they saw each other. Ufteu in the early morning, when she tended the geranium in the window, or liuug up tiie bird's cage, she met his eyes, and bowed a shy good-morning. bom times they smiled at each other; they could not help it, their little ac quaintance was so innocent and so unique. Tho passion for music in each found re sponse in the other. Each was lonely uud alone. Each longed for friends ami friendship. And eucli by degrees found life the sweeter for thubo bilent morning greetings and the twilight exchange of music. For her he played his host invariably, never anything indifferently executed; and when tedious, tiresome practice was necessary the window was tight y closed, much to the annoyance oi gm parrot Jezebel. The girl threw her whole soul into her music. She did not know bow her vio lin talked to the listener opposite. She could not know that ttie t< nder lit tio messages she shyly sent sometimes from her instrument were half under stood. He, on the contrary, sought with his voice to express to her his inmost thoughts. How eagerly she lisiened, loaning against the window-frame with closed eyes, for the strong, familiar voice! And liow her heart fluttered when the soft, intoxicating measures of some wave-like waltz floated across from in piano. The street was too far below to lieur or heed the little by-pluy up among the clouds. Life was growing sweet, indeed, to bolh of them. Ono evening, at a little soiree given by tho mother of ono of Geuevra's pupils, fortiie first tiqic they inc.. Tho liostoss, to supply a missing num ber on her program, found it necessary to improvise a duel. Then they were introduced. "Hero, Mr. Wendorhoff, help me out, will you not? What can you play with Miss Pierson? Decide on something, please. I must leave you for a moment." Wenderhoff sat down at tho piano; Genevra took her vio'.in. As |[he gave her In At heir eyes met. In tiiat swift look limy told their story. "How dellgii; l'ully those two play to gether, do they not? What harmony! Strangers, too; how odd!" Strangers? Ob. no. That night, as they walke : home under the stars, their henjts wen? mil of happi ness too deep for words. Even when they had suit! good-night, und parted, n > sound of music issued from tho window of either lever. Their happiness wa 100 gieat for cveu that.— New York Ledger. A Story of AVHslitiigton. Some timo ago a parly of gentlemen at Woodland wen discussing the character istics ol George Washington, the father of his country, when Sam Ruland, the gorgeou-m ss of whose imagination has made him well known throughout. Cali fornia, broke in upon the conversation. "You are right, gentlemen," said he, "Washington was a cold, austere man. He was as haughty as could he and a stickler for formalities. There was never but one occasion, so far as I have hoard, when ho threw aside the usual frigidity of his demeanor. That instance j was nana:oil to mo many years ago by my grandTa i her, who served under Wash- I ington in the war of the revolution. It j was the next day after a battle in which the British troops hud been routed. The colonial troops were drawn up in ranks, and Washington rode down (lie line, mounted upon the white charger of which you have ail heard. When he came up to whue my grandfather was standing the latter called out: " 'Why, how do you do. gneral?' "General Washington reined up his j charger, dismounted, threw ids arms i abou! my grandfather's neuk and ex- ■ claimed: " lluland, do not call me general—call me George!' "—Sacramento Bee. In making hot lemonade to cure a cold ( add a teuspoonful of pure glycerine in- I stead of sugar. A tublespooufui of brandy or whisky may be added. M. Dubois, u Nantes doctor, says that the pain of burns may be relieved by al lowing tho contents of a syphon ol seltzer water to flow over the affected pnrts. He believes that this treatment ; not only gives immediate relief, hut hasten* the'final oure, and ascribes the. good effects to the carbonic acid gas, ' which "aerates" the seltzer, und to the loworing of the temperature of tb burned parts. OUR YOUNG FOLKS. A MAD BBOIXXINO. Md Mother Fox one erasing looked From out her den of rocke. "Come here my pretty Bushy Tell." She celled her little fox. "Yon're getting larger every day, You'e growing etrong : I feel 'Tie time that you should leave your And should begin to steal." "YOU'RE GBTTIKO I.AIUiKH EVERY DAY," "The farmer's eye is quick and keen. The chloken-roosts are high; The Babbit, he is fleet of foot j The Partrldgo she is shy. If you would live upon your wlta You must be very sly; "I've REALI.Y LEARNED TO STEAL." "Yes, mother," said young Bushy Tall, "I know just how you feel. But I've begun to prowl about; I'veroally learned to steal. The Babbit runs, the Partridge flies. The chtoken'roosts are high, But I shall wait a chance to pounoo ! I shall be very sly. 1 mean to live tipon my wits; I shall be very sly." So off they both together went, And left their den of rooks; And which ono of the two was worse, The big or little fox. —Our Little Ones. MATILDA MA It IA. She was a poor little mite, who played In the gutter by day and slept on a bundle of rags at night, yet she had an Intimate and soul-satlsfylng friend, her doll, Ma tilda Maria. Iler own name was Maggie Klrke, and though she expected some time to "take in washing," as her mother did, and work half the night over the "starched things," she considered herself, at pres ent, a very lucky and care-free girl; for dirty, ragged and hungry as she might be, she still had Matilda Maria and that beautiful gutter. One day, a cry of "Fire !" was heard in the tenement house whore her mother lived, and the crazy old structure wae speedily wrapped in flames. There was no time to save household goods of any sort, and the shrieking women had barely rushed outside with babies in their arms and children clinging to their skirts, when the entire building seemed to be tilted with smoke and tiro. "Where's Maggie, Mrs. Kirke?" called a neighbor across the way. And Mrs. Kirko, hotter than ever sho had been at the ironing-table, replied : "Pruise be to goodness! Miss Mullen, Maggie's safe. I sent her to the store not live minutes ago." The firemen had come by this timo, and were bastely running up a ladder. Mrs. Klrke followed it with a curious glance, and gave one cry, when she 6aw that it was intonded to reach her win dow, and that Maggie stood there in the opening, frantioally waving one little hand. Then the woman threw her apron over her eyes and saw no more until a little form was pressed into her arms and a voice—Maggie s own kept repeating, "You sick, marmie? Y'ou 'fraid? I ain't hurt a bit. Wake up!" Mis. Kirke did wake up, and took the little thing to her heart. "Maggie," she asked, "wherever was you? Didn't you go to tho store when I told you?" "Why, yes," said Muggie, " 'course I did, but 1 come and see the fire burnin' up our house, and I run up-stairs after Tildy M'ria." How she had managed to run up over ' tho heated stairs through the stifling at mosphere, no one knew, but they did know one thing—that Matilda Maria, made of a stick of kindling wood and dressed in an old red handkerchief, was quite safe.—Youth's Companion. CUILDIiEX'S SAriXOS. "Do you like rusty bread?" inquired little Charlie, coming to my door with a ver> browncriiyit in nis hand. "Rusty bread? I never heard of such a thing, Charlie, ' I answered. "This is rusty bread," -aid Charlie, holding up ids crust. "It stayed in the stove until it got light hard and rusty. It's so good!" Floy was one day riding with her father. It was in the spring when the roads were very treacherous and muddy, ami the little girl's courage -was sorely tried by tho violent lurehings and jolt ings of the carriage. At last matters reached a climax, and the little maids holding tight to the back of the seat, made plaintive moan : "U papa, I don't like these between-times of year!" "Let's bang Lexie's hair," said Nellie to May, while amusing themselves with a little brother. Lexio submitted pa tiently to the operation, ami when it was finished, sat for -overal moments in per fect silence. Then looking up inquir ingly, he asked, "When is it going to bang?" He expected a fireworks dis play. "O mamma!" cried littlo Lee, on wak ing; "I've bad a dream; I dreamt I was going to a picnic.' "Did you have a good time, my boy?" "No," with disgust; "I didn't get there." Little Kdith eg)led tho gobbler the turkey's grandmother."—Youth s Com panion. God takes men's hearty desires and will instead of the deed, where they have not the power to fulfill it; but He never took the bare deed instead of the will. —Baxter. Very few people know how to onjoy life. Koine say to themselves: "I do this or that, therefore I am amused; I have paid so many pieces of gold, lionce I feci so much pleasure;" and wear away their lives on that grindstone.—A. de Mussel. 14 COLUMN FOR FARMERS. HOW Til ICY HAT I.EAHX TO TAX AND COtOB SKIKS. Tb Procmn Vrry Simple and Farmer, and Their Boyi May Soon Learn All About Then. The Necessary Tool. Very Readily Obtained or Had# of Pick-up. About the Pluce. Many farmers will be Interested in learning something about tanning and coloring skln. Here is something about it from the "American Agriculturist" : Tho tlrst requisites for tanning are a fleshing-beam and knife. For the flesh ing-beam, select a fine grained, hard wood slab, about Ave feet long, and ten to fifteen inches wldo, as shown In Fig. 1. Have the round sidoup; putin two legs 2 1-2 foot long, and one foot from widest end, the other end resting on the floor. Make the top Burface smooth and it is ready for use A good fleshing knife may bo made from an oki drawing knife, or pieces of scythe, by grinding the edge down to a face about a thirty second of an Inch; this will give two udges to work with by reversing, aDd of Bufllolent sharpness to remove all tle6hy substance from a skin. Preparatory to tannlDg a skin, soak it well and break all hard spots on the lleshing-boam. To soak a skin, take four | gallons of cold, soft water, half pint of i soft-soap, half an ounce of borax, half a pint of salt; mix and lmmerso tho skins. For skins to bo tanned with the hair or wool on, add three-fourtjis of an oance of sulphuric acid. Soak from two to six hours. After soaking, if it is required to remove the hair or wool, immerse the skins in a liquor oomposed of five gal lons of cold water, four quarts of slaked lime and four quarts of hard wood ashes. Let it soak in this irom one to six days, or until the hair or wool slips off ousily. Then remove to the fleshing-beam and scrape off all the hair and flesh—that is, remove with the flesblng-knifo all fleshy particles that may remain on the inside next to the animal. Now remove and wash thoroughly In cold water, and with the knife scrape off all tho surplus water. Prepare the tan liquor as follows: To eight quarts of cold, soft water, aald one quarter of a pound of pulverized oxalic acid, and one quart of common salt. Dissolve well, and Immerse the skins. Enough tan liquor should be made to cover the skins well. Light skins should i emain in this liquor from three to four hours, and should be handled occasion ally, that every part may be well wet with the liquor. Calf skins, dog skins and wolf skins, should remain in the liquor at least forty-eight hours, or until tailned through, which can be told by cutting on the necK, the thickest part of the skin. On all of the finer furred skins, wher- extra softness Is desirable, tho vigors 1. following liquid should be applied to tho skin after removing from the tan liquor. One pint of soft soap, one pint of tan ner's oil, or neat's-foot oil, one pint of alcohol. When this is thoroughly dried in, the skin should be dampened enough to finish. All skins when drying are liko full cloth when wet; they contract or full up, and have to be stretchod In finishing. To do this, take tho skin before It is thoroughly dried, and place It upon the fleshing-beam over some yielding sub stance, or a sheep skin, flesfh aido up, then take the fleshing knife, and care fully push the edges of the blade stoutly in all directions over tho skin, until it becomes stretohed, soft and pliable. To enliven the fur upon the skins that have been tanned and finished, take equal parts of scorched bran, and sharp, clean, white sand, or dry, hard wood sawdust, and rub well in the fur. Take equal parts of pulverized, un slaked lime and lithargo, mix to a thin paste with water, and apply with a brush. One or two coats will give a light buff color. By using sevoral coats a beautiful, light-brown is obtained, every additional coat deepening the color. By adding a small quautity of ammonia and nitrato of silver, a beautiful black is pro duced. To color a bright orange on tho wool of sheep-skins, for rugs, etc., wash out all grease from the wool, then take an ounce of picric acid to each skin; dis solve the acid in soft, lukewarm water, using onough to cover the skin. Use alcohol or vinegar, to set the color. A very pretty magenta color may be ob tained by taking for each skin half an ounce of magenta crystals; dissolve in quarts of boiling hot water, stirring until dissolved; then add warm water enough to cover the skins. Tho water should not be moro than lukewarm when putting the skins in, and should bo handled well, that the color may be evenly distributed. When of the right color, remove and set with a pint of vinegar, or alcohol, in water enough to cover the skins. Stretuh while drying, to prevent shrinkage. Hoticy Ilees in Court. In 1887, a wealthy banker of Delaware county, N. Y., had a neighbor who kopt an- apiary of twenty -warms of bee within fifty foot of the banker's dwelling. Tlie bn'' - i'm plained that tho beesat tackeel . Leg members of his family —that they w, in fact, vicious aud of fensive Insects annoying his horses and other stock. Tho neighbor rofused to romove the bees and the banker began a suit for $1,200 damages and an order for the removal of tho bees. Tho National Beo Keepers' association assumed the defense and thus made this a tost case. The trial lasted sevoral days and brought out much export testimony. The jury declared tho apiary a nuisance and awarded tho plaintiff six cents and cost, thus establishing a precedent. The court at onco issued an Injunction re straining the defendant from maintain ing the apiary on his premises. Tho de fendant appoaled and is now again de feated. It is saiil that the Bee Keepers' association will continue the fight by a further appoal to the oourt of ap peals— the court of final resort. He that does not know those things which aro of use and necessity for him to know. Is but an Ignorant man, whatever he may know besides.—Tillotson. Nothing is 60 groat an Instance of Ill manners as flattery. If you Hatter all tho company you please none; if you flatter only one or two you affront the rest —Swift. We should love our friends as true am ateurs love pictures; they keep their eyes perpetually (ixod on the fine points, and do not see the defects.—lime. Du freenoy. TAKE THE HINT. Whene'er an anxious group is seen But while they smile or praise bestow" Around some monthly magazine And wonder whence ideas flow, Or paper that is daily whirled The fact should still be kept in mind To every quarter of the world, That people of the knowing kind And merry peals of laughter rise Will heed the hints or lessons laid As this or that attracts the eyes, In rhymes and pictures thus displayed. The smiling crowd, you may depend, And let no precious moments fly Above some illustrations bend Until the IVORY SOAP they try, That advertise the strength and scope And prove on garments coarse and finej And purity of IVORY SOAP. The truth of every sketch and line. A WORD OF WARNING. There are many white soaps, each represented to be "just as good as the 1 Ivory'}" they ARE NOT, but like all counterfeits, lack the peculiar and remarkable qualities of the genuine. Ask for " Ivory " Soap and insist upon getting it. Copyright 1886, by Procter & Gamble. Nos. 510, 512, 514 Market St., and 27 Fifth Ave. PITTSBURGH. The Leading JVLllinery AND FURNISHING GOODS HOUSE Offer the following line of SPRINGand SUMMER GOODS AT THE LOWEST PRJCES IN THE CITY: Ladies' and Children's Straw Hats, Fancy Drapery Silks, with Fringes Ladies' and Children's Trimmed to match, Hats, Ladies' and Gents' Underwear, Ladies' and Children's Wraps and Dress Shirts, Woolen Shuts, at all Jackets. prices, Ladies' and Children's Corsets of all Hosiery, over 800 styles, including kinds, the guaranteed fast blacks, from Lace Curtains and Portieres, 15c. to 75c. a pair, Parasols and Umbrellas, 600 styles, Silk Underwear, Silk Hosiery, Silk Mitts and Gloves, lilc. to SI, 1,500 doz. Ladies' Ribbed Vests, 13c. Kid Gloves, 44c. to §2 a pair, 15c., 18c., 22c., 25c., the great- Dress Trimmings, Notions, Jewelry, est bargains ever offered any- White Goods of all kinds, where. Our Motto —Best Goods: Lowest Prices. mar29-6m Danziger & Shoenberg. SPECIAL and Important Announcement. We are now offering more than ordinary inducements to purchasers eacn of our seventy-five departments, attention being particularly di ined to our SILIvS, DRESS GOODS, WASH FABRICS, COTTONS, LINENS, LACE CURTAINS AND UPHOLSTERY GOODS, GENTS' FURNISHINGS, CORSETS, GLOVES, HOS IERY AND HOUSE FURNISHINGS. Our enormous sales in these d< artments require us to add large lines daily, and as the same goods can oe purchased now lower than they were much earlier in the season, we aiv enabled to offer our recent pur chases at a corresponding reduction. We are the money-saving house for the people. OUR ENORMOUS SALES ATTEST TO THIS FACT. We extend a cordial invitation to all out of town visitors to come and seeus. Mail orders receive promptand careful attention. Sam pie send on application. DANZIGE& SHOENBEG, Successors to MORRIS H. DAHZIOER, SIXTH STREET AND PITTSBURGH.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers