DREAMS. if every tho ht shall weigh In the awara, And every dream as if fulfilled shall stana, Who may complain or deem the justice hard That Heaven shall deal when his account Is sci: The dreams 1 shattered, when with mortal power 1 strove to ve them form and worthy act, Shall weigh against me in that searching hour For all their promise in fulfilment iacked; But, if upon the other scale shall l1e ‘I'he pure, resplendent raptures of my youth, Of deeds previsioned, born of purpose high, Undimmed by earth and lit by llving truth, Aspiring dreams shall gless what lll betell, For he whose thoughts are pure hath builded well. —Peter McArthur, in ‘The Christian Register, | fefededets Kin and Kind | * ferferfotofededololololedoleofelolofoofofioiol The garden at Hall-i’-th’-Wood, as appertaining to the dower house of a family so distinguished as the Mount- at + Ves! at oft St. ta 0 ee ae PRATT SY : eneys, was-laid out in the style popu-. farized by Dutch William, to whose favoritism the 15th Viscount Danger- hill owed the title of first Earl of Heathylees. The lawns were smooth as the green cloth of a card table; the trees—box, yew and cypress—cut in quaint shapes of crowns, of chessmen and of birds that strutted and nested and fought. Alongside each hedge ran a8 bed of the richest scil; in spring- time this was vastly gay with tulips; in summer: sweet with roses, clove pinks, stocks love-in-the-mist. The house itself was, to be sure, scarce stately enough for one of the dowager countess's dignity; but she, in spite of an early lifetime spent at court, loved the hill country air and loved also her position as mediatrix in all village disputes. She had brought her husband, the third earl, a fortune large for those times; but he unluck- ily lost much of it in the South Sea Craze, and died at 45, leaving her mother of five half-grown daughters and an infant earl. On the coming of age of her son she had insisted upon his marriage; and, not choosing to ghare a household empire with his wife, had retired with dignified state to the house that was hers by right. Her female children had been disposed of long before, and she had in the course of time arranged with little difficulty the comfortable settlement of 16 granddaughters. At the present moment the dame gat in a high-backed- chair in her withdrawing room, perusing through a quizzing glass a letter which had just been brought by special messenger from her son’s principal house, a hun- dred miles nearer town. My lady was smiling wickedly; her bright black eyes sparkled both with temper and mirth. “Honored madam,” the earl had written. “I trust and hope tnat your health is perfect, and that the heat of early summer hath not tried you over- much. My lady bids me assure you that barberry leaves in concoction are a fine remedy for the weakness caused by advancing years.” Here ‘honored madan” shook her head and thanked heaven that in her- self the family knew a wise person. “The dolt!” she muttered. “My dolt of a son, and I but 78!” “But to business,” she read, ‘‘since I know of old that you detest beating about the bush. In short—in short I'm placing my fourth daughter, Elizabeth (your own namesake) with =n ft» Vn» taught proper conduct. She is 18 years old and as unfilial a chitu a> was ever reared. She has fallen in love with a neighbor ‘of little fortune—a likely enough fellow as far as other things go—but quite out of the ques- tion for my daughter. As you're aware, I have no dower to offer with her; she hath no expectations from any one. And I have received a most handsome proposal from his lordship the Marquis of Allithwaite, who is de- sirous of taking to wife some tender soul as yet unspoiled by the world. When I introduced the matter to her she proved—I blush to tell you—im- pertinent and unreasonable in the ex- treme, and absolutely refused to lis- ten. Her mother has even less influ- ence than have I; so I am sending her to you for you to practice your gener- alship upon her—to bring her to rea- son—to teach her the majesty of pa- ternal authority.” “Pshaw!” exclaimed the lady. “And all this shuffling about a green girl! But Heathylees from his cradle ne'er dared to grasp the nettle! And so mv granddaughter Elizabeth's a minx! 'Tis five years since I saw the wench, and then she was but as other children. I doubt even if 1 her speak a dozen words beyond her respects.” “You have my leave to do with her what yon will,” continued the letter. “The task of breaking her spirit is, I'll own, beyond me. and my wife herself’s too pliant. I'd have you point out the marvellous advantage union with Allithwaite will bring her. In all likelihood she would attain to the high office of mistress of the robes, which is usually filled by the ladies of that family. She bids fair to be a beauty of the dark skinned type— somewhat like the ancient portrait of your revered self, which Kneller paint- ed in the days before you honored my father with your hand. All my other offspring are light of complex- ion, as you're aware.” Lady Heathylees glanced through the rest of the letter, which contained maught of interest; then, ringing a silver handbell, she summoned Mrs. Shellcock, her housekeeper, a dame well nigh as old as herself. “At your ladyship’s service,” said the woman, curtesying low and stretch- ing the hem of her apron. “See that the yellow chamber is in order, good Shellcock,” said her mis- tress. “My son has written word that “Lady Elizabeth is on her way here.” heard Spieler llc oleae esededotoe fotos ose fodesosfedeoafeso foto fee x BY R. MURRAY GILCHRIST. 3 Mrs. Shellcock nodded with a re- tainer’s familiarity. “It shall be done at once, my lady,” she said. “And if I'm not making too free, I'd like to say that I'm main glad. Lady Eliza- beth, though ’tis long since I saw her, gave promise of being the most beau- tiful of a beautiful clutch!” She retired, but came back in an- other moment. “Your ladyship’s par- don,” she said. “But the groom my lord sent asked me to state that his mare cast her shoe thrice, and ’t has been necessary to spend many hours at the smithy.” When she disappeared again Lady Heathylees took ‘up her ebony gold handled stick, and passed through the great hall and out upon the terrace. The roses were in full bloom; the air was heavy with their fragrance. The summer heat was ' tempered by a splashing of a fountain that was shap- en like a chubby boy with a couch. There was no sound save the hum- ming of countless bees and the tired singing of the larks overhead. Lady Heathlylees's quaintness was in per- fect harmony with the place; she had the air of a fairy godmother—not one of the mast amiable, it is true, but none the less endowed with surpass- ing dignity. Her gown was of rich brocade, green and crimson on an or- ange ground; the skirt was spread over a monstrous hoop; she had the tiniest feet, shod in undressed leather, with heels a handbreadth high. She car- ried in her left hand a heavy fan, with which she occasionally wafted her face, more from force of habit than from necessity. She made her way slowly to a Belvedere at the end of the terrace, and, entering, crossed to the latticed window that overlooked the glade, along which all comers to Hall-i’-th’-Wood must travel. And there, before she had gazed one mo- ment, she gave a sudden start and closed her fan so ungently that one of the pierced tortoise shell sticks split from errd to end. “Egad!” she said. “Here comes the minx, and with a squire beside her carriage! Heaven grand it may be my Lord of Allithwaite—though, to speak the truth, the fellow looks too young and sits his horse too well to be a wornout man from town!” Her eyes sparkled more brightly than ever; it seemed as though she had already tasted some pretty quarreling. She left the summer house and went through the garden to a postern by which the visitors must enter. In an- other five minutes the heavy horses stopped, and the cavalier dismounted, oponed the door and helped to alight a young woman who wore a lilac rid- ing hood anda dimity skirt. She was tall and graceful of figure; her eyes were in color and brilliancy like the dowager’s, but more kindly; a mighty pretty color warmed her cheeks. She curtesied in the latest, most elegant, most deferential fashion, then she took her grandame’s hand and raised it to her lips. “I vow, child, that I'd not have known you,” said my lady. “The last time we met you were scarce in the heyden stage; now you're grown up in every way.” Then she pointed with her stick to the gentleman. ‘“‘Pre- sent him, child. ’Twas wise and thoughtful of your dear father to in- sure your safety.” TL.ady Elizabeth's color deepened. “My dearest grandmother,” she replied, “you're crediting my father with a consideration quite foreign to his na- ture. The gentleman is a neighbor and good friend. Madam, permit me to introduce Mr. Eyre—" The dowager eyed the stranger very gravely. In spite of her age she had still an eye for a proper man, and here was certainly one of the hand- somest she had ever beheld. Moreover, he tore a curious likeness to some one she had known in youth. “I confess myself honored with his acquaintance,” she said very coldly. “I thank him, moreover, for his most kind attention.” “Your ladyship need not compli- ment,” said Mr. Eyre. “Few things in the world could please me so well as keeping Lady Elizabeth out o. dan- ger.” “Agreeably said, sir, but the ordi- nary rule of courtesy bade: me offer thanks, particularly since there is nought else I may offer. Elizabeth, child, we will go indoors. I wish you, Mr. Eyre, a very good evening. I’d ad- vise you to rest for the night at the ‘Heathylees Arms’ in the village. Tell the hostess that she must use you well, since you are known to me. Once more, sir, a good evening.” To her great chagrin her sleeve was caught by her granddaughter. “Madam,” said the girl. ‘There is— there is an understanding between Mr. Eyre and myself.” “It is apparent,” said Lady Heathy- lees; “but I strongly advise its discon- tinuance. Mr. Eyre, you will oblige me by retiring now.” He laughed lowly and pleasantly, bowed to both ladies, rose again to the saddle; then, with a fine flourish of the hat, passed slowly down the glade. “A handsome man, God wot!” ob- served the dowager. “And one pleasant 1 enough pour passer le temps. But pray, my dear child, what name did you say, I can scarce hear as well this last year or two?” “Mr. Eyre of Hassop, madam.” The dowager smiled more agreeably than usual. “Why, I could have sworn that I had seen him before, and now I learn the reason. His grandfather —Rowland—and I were friends in youth—"’ .ady Elizabeth came nearer, actual- ly presuming to rest her cheek against her grandmother's. “Then his grandfather<=and were lovers!” But the other fell-a-laughing very loudly and heartily for a person of quality. “My sweet Elizabeth!” she cried, “I was too young to know the meaning of love—in “truth, being no older than you-are now. But love's a you "thing that begins with a game—a silly, sighing game—and Rowland Eyre and I were gamesters—just as you and this country beau are gamesters. Pshaw! After the first few months "I gave never a thought to the grandsire, though ’twould be lying if I denied that he was singularly handsome.” The girl gazed into her face with disconcerting steadiness. “My dearest grandmother,” she said, without a tre- mor, ‘because it pleased you to play at the love game is no reason why I should mimic you. I have known Mr. Eyre for many years and not a day but my love for him has grown strong- er and more worthy.” Never before had the dowager been so confronted. Her somewhat vivid color faded: her lips met closely; her eyes snapped with vexation. “your friendship with Mr. Eyre is a matter of no consideration,” she said. “It is best, seeing that you are sent here for a purpose, to make you acquainted with that purpose. My good son, your father, relies upon me to bring you to a proper state of mind for the reception of Lord Allithwaite’s formal courtship.” The effect of this plain speaking was contrary to the dowager’s expectation. Lady Elizabeth, smiling more winning- ly than ever, stooped to a bush of moss roses and gathered one flower. “We cannot grow them so well at home,” she said. “Above all lovely things I love the moss rose. There's a pungency in its sweetness. How or why I know not, but it always reminds me of a ravine in a pleasaunce—a ra- vine with a little waterfall—" Lady Heathylees seemed to swell out like the frog in the fable. “Did you hear me, mistress?’ she cried. “I heard you, madam,” said Lady Elizabeth; “but as I considered what you said to be unworthy of you I thought best to let it pass without re- mark. But, since you insist, I in all huriility decline to allow my state of mind to be changed. I have no doubt that my father has also requested you to break my spirit; but that, madam, you will find impossible of perform- ance. Once and. for all I-—most defer- entially—declare that I will not marry the man of my father’s choice—that I will be wife to none same him I love!” She untied the riband of her hood and with steady fingers placed the rose amidst the laces of her bosom. The old lady’s agitation was so profound that for a full minute she could not utter a word. . “Five daughters and 16 granddaugh- ters have I married with ease,” she said harshly, “and now when my labors should be over I begin to find thorns under my feet. You are the first one of your breed who has dared to pit her- self against me! Aye, child, regard yourself as a sparrow—regard me as an eagle!” “Madam, the sparrow is beneath the eagle’s notice. According to the his- tory of birds, the owl's the sparrow’s enemy—"’ “A nimble tongue’s detestable in a maid—it betokens a shrew’s making—" “But lately,” said Elizabeth, “I heard my father say to my mother that there was but one shrew in the world, and that each husband had her to wife. Not for all the wealth of the Indies would I be different from my sex!” lady Heathylees, in her bewilder- ment, struck her forehead. “I beg youn to remember that pertness from a child of your age to a lady of mine is unbe- comitig .in the extreme. In my girl- hood things were vastly different. “Once more I most humbly ask your pardon,” returned Lady Elizabeth. “Theres’ nobody in the world for whom I have greater admiration than for vou. Sometimes I even do myself the honor of believing that I bear some resemblance to what you were at my age. And if I be right, why sure none could ever have thwarted you—as none’ll ever thwart me.” The dowager let fall both stick and fan, exposing her palms in an amaze- ment that was not altogether affected. “By the gods!” she cried. “You should have been a lad and all your brothers should have been wenches. You've red blood in your velns—they’ve nought thicker than whey. None the less, my dear one, you'll have no say in the matter. One of the penalties I insist upon Is a sampler with the words, ‘How beautiful is Obedience!’ ” “To please you, my revered grand- mother, I'll work a score of samplers.” «7’l1 have none of ’em. It shall be for your husband—" “He'll have my obedience without the sampler, madam. He'll care nought for a piece of needlework.” “And you shall embroider his arms. If I remember aright he comes of Plan- tagenet stock—" “Nay, surely—and he has never told me!” “A pedigree almost without compari- son in all England. Every alliance, .nor since. M in my recollection, made to uphold the dignity. The last marchioness—" Lady Elizabeth lifted her hands to her face and after a brief struggle began to laugh so brightly that when the first frowns had disappeared her grandmother was obliged to join in. And, strange to relate, the old wom- an’'s laughter was now almost as full of sweet music as the girl's. “The last marchioness! The last marchioness!’” gasped Lady Elizabeth. “Oh, grandmother, the humor of these cross purposes!” “And, prythee, why not a marchion- ess?’ cried Lady Heathylees. “Tis the title next to a duchess, and the sounds finer to any one than an earl’s. Why, it ‘should be like music to one of your youth!” : : “I care nought for the name, madam, and less than nought for the man you’d have me mate with!” “Come, we have talked idly too long. Let’s indoors. I vow you're parched for a dish of tea!” “Not ‘I. I'd. as lief wait in this beautiful garden till we're both of one mind.” “And you will, child. Tell me about your marquis—he’s debonnair, with- out a doubt?” “Perchance he was debonnair before I was born, grandmother. Now he’s shapen like a barrel—his face is pur- ple as mulberries—his eyes are yellow and choleric—and already he's buried three wives!” Then in the priettiest of fashions the girl actually put her arm around her grandmother’s slender waist; and the old lady, notwithstanding her aston- ishment did not draw away. ‘You'd not give me to an ogre—a Bluebeard— a sea monster?’ was whispered in her ear. “I'll give you to Lord that you may rely on. You'd do far better than your sisters. And belike with a scold for his fourth spouse he'll not live more than a year or two!” Lady Elizabeth’s arm tightened; her eyes looked very intently into the oth- er's. “1 thank you for an inheritance of Allithwaite; ‘determined will,” she said, “for sure, tis from you it comes. I dare wage my soul you'd not be coerced in youth, And ’tis so with me, dear grandmother. Once and for all em- phatically understaad that-I'll be wife to no other man—" “To no other man?’ said the dow- ager, whose temper was rising again. “To no other man than the marquis—" Lady Elizabeth, before replying, up- lifted her disengaged hand and sum- moned one who, still mounted, rested in the shadow of a great oak midway down the glade. “Mr. Eyre has watched us from the distance!” she said. “He met me at the second stage from home and we were married yesterday at Peak Forest cha- pel. There's a vicar there who saves young folk the journey to Gretna.” For a brief while old Lady Heathy- lees seemed as though turned to stone; then ‘she stirred and threw both. her arms around her granddaughter’s neck. “By the Lord, thou art the very marrow of me!” she cried. “And the only one of my blood who dare have acted for herself. Call your man here forthwith—and he shall learn that he’s gotten a friend in your old grandame!” —The Graphic. ee Horn in a Tree 183 Years. A sheep’s horn that was imbedded in a tree 183 years ago is the curiosi- ty that Jason Elder, a forest ranger living at Paisley, Oreg., has delivered to his superior, Supervisor Ingram, at Lakeview. While rambling in the woods in 1888 Elder came across a yellow pine tree, in the base of which ‘was imbedded the horn of a mountain sheep. He did not then have time to make a thorough investigation but since becoming forest ranger he had occasion to go to the vicinity and he cut the tree down. He took a sec- tion of the trunk containing the horn to Lakeview. The horn was a little to one side of the center of the tree and ran in a circular direction. It was not curled as are the horns of mountain sheep at this day, but was almost straight. Counting the rings of growth, the tree was shown to be 213 years old. Outside the horn were 183 rings, in- dicating the number of years that had elapsed since the mountain sheep was caught and held fast by the vellow pine} ~The horn was soaked with pitch. It is ten inches in diameter at the base and protruded from the tree about six inches. The length of the horn is thirty inches.—Redding (Cal.) Dispatch to San Francisco Chronicle. The Retort Courteous. A one-armed man sat down to his noonday luncheon in a little restau- rant the other day, and seated on the right of him was a big, sympathetic in- dividual from the rural district. The big fellow noticed his neigh- bor’s left sleeve hanging loose, and kept eying him in a sort of how-did-it- happen way. The one-armed man failed to break the ice, but continued to keep busy with his one hand sup- plying the inner man, At last the inquisitive one on the right could stand it no longer. He changed his position a little, cleared his throat, and said: “I see, sir, you have lost an arm.” Whereupon the unfortunate man picked up the empty sleeve with his right hand, peered into it, looked up with a surprised expression, and said, “By G@George, sir, you're right.”—St. Louis Republic. A Sure Cure. “ “Doctor, how. can I cure insomnia? I'm not getting to sleep these days before 4 in the morning.” “Have a boy knock on your door at midnight and tell you it’s time to get up.”—Cleveland Leader. Si Nn , 2) NN AS A THE PACIFIC Sm LIMITED. —Week’s Oleverest Cartoon by Maurice Ketten, in the New York Evening World. THE SOUTH HAS JUST FINISHED ONE OF THE GREATEST CHANNEL-MAKING UNDERTAKINGS IN HISTORY New Jetties Ready For Big Ships---Lower Mississippi Gets One of World’s Deepest Harbors. New Orleans, La.—One of the greatest ehannel making undertak- ings in the history of American river improvement will be brought nearly to completion when the jetties at the mouth of the Southwest Pass of the Mississippi River are finished. These jetties, after some dredging between them is completed, will give the South one of the deepest harbors in the world by openings to the access of the largest steamships afloat the 100 and 200 foot depths of the lower Mississippi River. The harbor thus made accessible has navigable water connection with at least'a dozen States ‘bordering the Mississippi and its tributaries—the Ohio, the Missouri, the Arkansas and the Red rivers. About $6,000,000 is being spent on this improvement by the United States Government, which has the work in charge. The new jetties were begun four Years ago. They are on a larger scale and more substantial than the famous jetties at the Mississippi's South Pass, an outlet which for more than thirty years has been the river’s commercial entrance. They are near- ly parallel walls, one about three and the other about four miles long, lying more than half a mile apart and built in the shoal water at the juncture of the Pass with the Gulf of Mexico. Their purpose is to con- fine and thus accelerate the river’s current across a mud bar about three miles broad, so as to produce a chan- nel at least 1000 feet wide, with a minimum depth of thirty-five feet. The swift current which they have produced, aided by dredging, even before their completion, has caused a tremendous scour and has already made fifty to eighty-five feet of water in some places, where at the begin- ning of the work the depth was only a little over a man’s head. To make the uniform contract depth there is still in several spots about ten feet of mud to be removed. It is expect- ed that the high water due within a few weeks will sweep the remaining mud deposits out to sea by the be- ginning of next summer. Probably few walls ever have been constructed under greater difficul- ‘ties than were these jetties. = They “are made of willow, scantling, stone and concrete. Although in some places they are not: six feet deep, and although their greatest depth is barely fifteen feet, they have cost $2,700,000. Every material entering into their - construction has been brought from distances of one hun- dred to five hundred miles. The jetties have no foundation, but rely for stability upon their ex- tremely broad bases, being from 100 to 150° feet wide at the bottom. In contrast to this great width of base, the concrete capping which forms the top of the jetties, and which is the work receiving its finishing touches this week, is only a few feet wide. The capping is a sea wall four and one-half feet high and is the only portion of the jetties not submerged. The wall weighs between two and three tons to each linear foot. The submerged structure support- ing this mass of concrete is. made almost entirely of willow poles and brush. With the aid of frame works . of scantling the willows were formed into so-called mattresses—broad, flat structures resembling bed mattresses in form—each about two feet thick, 200 feet long and varying in width from thirty-five to 150 feet. The mattresses were sunk one above the other, with the widest at the bottom and those above uniformly™diminish- ing in width as they approached the surface. The topmost mattresses were uniformly thirty-five feet wide, and on a level with the surface of the water. Heavy broken stone was spread evenly over the mattresses to sink them, so that a layer of stone rests between each of these willow structures. A The greatest number of supperimposed mattresses is five. The Mississippi has done some in=- teresting work in addition to scour=- ing out a channel, for it has made the mattresses practically indestruc- tible to any normal agency of nature in this region by burying them under hundreds of tons of mud. These de- posits follow closely the contour of the jetties, in conjunction with which they form new banks of the river. The only change likely to occur in the jetties is their gradual sinking, until in time the concrete capping entirely disappears. This sinking already. has occurred to the jetties at South Pass. In the course of many years a new bar may form by silt deposits in the Gulf in the now deep water beyond the mouth of the jetties, and then the remedy will be the extension of the jetties a short distance further. The rate of bar extension during nearly seventy-five years preceding the starting of the jetties was between 150 and 250 feet annually, and the deposits responsible for this advance were made when conditions, now greatly changed, favored such accre- tions. Part of the $6,000,000 allotted to making the channel is being spent in safeguards several miles above the jetties to prevent any increase in the flow of other large outlets from the main river to the Gulf. This is being accomplished by placing stone covered mattress sills on the river bottom across the entrances to those outlets. Several small- bayvous.-leading from Southwest Pass to the Gulf will be entirely closed up. THIS ADVANCED WESTERN SCHOOL HAS A CLASS iN WOOING Courisiiip Formally Adopted as a Course in Illinois Town and Has 23 Pupils--Some of the Subjects That Will Be Taught. Greenville, Ill.—Professor H. G. Russell, superintendent of the High School, has introduced instruction in lovemakking into the school curri- culum. Parents of some of the pupils declare they do not want their chil- dren’s thoughts turned so early to love, but Professor Russell and his wife, who is his assistant, say they will see the experiment through. Russell thinks in time courtship will be taken out of the realm of em- pyricism and lifted into the realm of exact science as chemistry followed alchemy. Twenty-three pupils, ten of whom are girls, constitute the first class in the world to receive formal instruc- tion in courtship. Professor Russell has given them three lectures and they have written essays. The in- struction will be chiefly through study of the literature of love, includ- British Government Orders Discouragement of Immigration. Halifax, N. 8.—The Canadian Gov- ernment has adopted a policy of dis- couraging immigration to Canada during the winter season as the re- sult of the great volume which the influx of colonists attained in Oc- tober and November. The govern- ment has instructed agents to stop all efforts to induce immigration to Canada, and an extensive advertis- ing campaign setting forth the ad- vantages of the country has been stooped. ing the courtship of Miles Standish, “Romeo and Juliet,” and other stand- ard works of fiction. Pupils will be expected to learn: How to take.heart by storm or by siege. How to detect the advent of the grand passion. How to behave if parental objec- tion is manifested. How to pay a compliment. How to encourage a bashful suitor or ‘corner an elusive girl How to allay unfounded jealousy. How to propose. How to ask papa. The etiquette of the engagement ring. Deportment during engagement. Girls will learn how to promise to be a sister. The year’s course will take the students all the way from the first sweet sting of love to the altar. Norfolk Druggists Sell Large Quantities of Dope. Norfolk, Va.—According to Dr. R. L. McMurran, of Portsmouth, there is a Norfolk druggist who dispenses fifteen gallons of laudanum daily, and another druggist whose cocaine sales average $90 daily. The start- ling statements were made in the course of a paper Dr. McMurran read before the recent meeting of the Seabord Medical Association on “The Evil Effects of the Drug Habit.” A crusade will be started for the sup- pression of the evil.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers