FIRELIGHT FANCIES.
BY WAIV SHAW.
I |leam, I jlow, } Hash. I Htart
I own n.f quick a changing* heart
Ah any tickle lover.
I hhlminer softly ou the floor,
I gleam a glow uncanny ;
I linger lovingly, and pour
Soft light iu nook and cranny.
And ovor, as I shine or fado,
I tell a true life-story ;
A period in the depths of shudo,
The next in heights of glory.
Give the fuel (my life) a stir,
Note tho flames that follow oft.
Bouse, dreamers, then. Do not demur;
Act wisely, and look aloft.
You'd scarcely deem my radiance sprung
From a somber stick of wood.
Nor guess the power, its fibers 'mong,
For vast evil or great good.
Nor think, perhaps, some flower fair,
Sprung from earth mixed with ashes ;
Nor that you breathe the same pure air
Which helps feed my blight Hashes.
And when I die. as when I glow,
I tell a true life-story;
I fade, the ashes full, and, lot
They live in a Power's glory I
Boctu Kaukauna. Wis.
DO LISTEN TO REASON.
Smoking tranquilly in an easy-chair ono (
evening in Juno. Major Hartwoll was roused '
from tho deep and painful rovorie Into which
ho hud fallen by a stop in tho hall and a
knock ou his parlor door.
"Come!" ho said, and a smile lighted up
Ills grave, handsome face, for both step and
knock wore familiar to him. and if there
was any man on earth whom lie held near
and doar. that man was he who now en
tered.
"I was beginning to wonder what had be
come of you, Arthur." stretching out a wel
coming hand, which Arthur Hazard took in
a warm grasp.
"I have been unusually busy." and Arthur
throw himself into u chair. "I've been get
ting ready to leave town for a few weeks,
and huven't hufd time to even think of my
friends."
"Then you've como to say au revoir
"Yes; I'm off to-morrow by tho early
train. I wish you were going with mo,
Cyril."
"I can't leave tho city now. Besides. I
shouldn't enjoy having nothing to do. I
haven't taken a vacation since I lelt tho
army. Where are you going?"
"To a piece called Westholt, down in
Buckingham County."
Tho Major started, and a shadow crept
ovor his face—tho shadow oi a past sor
row, tho memory of which was very painful
to him.
"I am going to visit the big man of tho
place—Squire Drayton," continued Arthur,
carelessly. "I made his ucqua ntance a few
months ago by the merest accident, lie
Was pleased to tuko a fancy to me, and in
vited me to his place. Homo ono was tell
ing me the other day that tho Squire had
ono of tho prettiest daughters imaginable.
So you can prepare yourself for anything
in the way of news When I come back."
He paused, laughing, and expecting some
facetious reply; but Major Hartwoll was si
lent. The shadow had deoponod on his face
into a look of puin.
"What's tho matter. Hartwoll? You look
as If you had seen a ghost. Are you envying
me my good luck?"
"No; I havo no dosire to go to Westholt.
I shall never go there again."
Ah! Y'ou have been thoro before mc,
then?"
"Yes; I was once engaged to bo married
to Lois Drayton."
"You were? Major, if I had
ivo spoken as I
of the sort had
illing to tell me
I would not
t isn't a very
very unusual
.. *rhen my regi
ment was stationed near Westholt. and we
were engaged for a year. 1 know sho loved
mo; I have novor doubted that, though
what followed would have led almost any
man to believe hor utterly wanting in any
thing approaching affection. Wo were "to
be married on tho 10th of October, and the
wedding was to bo a grand affair. All tho
Drayton relatives far and neur were invited,
and the Bquire hud prepared for bonfires,
fireworks and general enthusiasm. I went
down to Westholt on the morning of tho 9th
and had no fault to find with the welcome I
received from Lois. 1 thought I had nevei
seen her in a happier mood, and we hail a
long talk about our future and made nil
sorts of plans, which I little thought were
never to be realized. We spent a very
happy afternoon in the groat, dusky parlor,
and after supper the Squiro took me out for
a long walk, wishing to show me some im
provements he had made in drainage and
parking. We loft Lois in tho hall, talking to
an old woman who had come to get some
medicine for a sick child. I remember that
I looked back when 1 reached the yard and
waved my hand to rav little girl, thinking
how sweet and fair and gentle she looked
as sho stood listening to tho description of
the child's illness I Ah. mel I did not
dream that it was our last parting—that, I
was novor to see hor Renin!"
"Never to see her again?" echoed Arthur
Hazard, as his friend paused.
"No; I havo nover seen hor since that
evening. When tho Squiro and I returned
to the house, a,Couple of hours lator. wo
found that she hod gono to administer the
medlolne herself to tho child, and on reach
ing u ome again had retired at onco to her
rOwtn, and had sent for hor aunt, Mrs. An
drews, who had taken tho plaoe of a mother
to hor for many years. Mrs. Andrews
found her prone on a rug. her left hand
grasping it in hor agony.
Gently raising Iter. Mrs. Androws endeav
ored to learn the cause <>f her pale and agi
tated condition, but she would explain noth
ing, simply stating that a great sorrow had
come over her lib'. She simply wished, she
said, to send a messngo to mo. It was that
she absolutely refused to marry mo. Yes.
on tho very eve of our wedding sho had
changed her mind. And she would give no
reason for tho change, nor would she con
sonttoseomo. Hor father and aunt rea
soned nnd argued with hor In vain. Sho
simply wept and maintained her mysterious
silence. And tho end of it ail was that I lelt
Westholt tho next day, togotlier with my
best man and tho half-dozen bridesmaids.
Tho affair created a great deal of gossip,
but no ono has ever been able to got to the
bottom of it."
"Perhaps Miss Drayton heard something
against you." suggested Hazard.
"No; that question was asked lor, and -h>-
insisted that sho had not."
"And you do not think hor merely fickle ?"
"I know her too well to think that."
"And there was no other lover?"
"No. Sho hud other suitors, of course,
but I was the only ono for whom she had
expressed any regard."
"Anl she has nover given any explanation
of her singular action?"
"Nevor. I see her father occasionally,
and he has repeatedly assured me that she
maintains her mysterious silence. They
nevor mention my name to her now. Khe
requested thorn not to do HO."
"I wish, for your sake, I could get at tho
root of the matter. Major. Suppose I try. I
wilt havo a good opportunity, you see."
"Y'ou can try. or course. Thank you for
your Interest. But there is no reason to
think you will succeed. No; I must bear i
my sorrow as best I can. 1 must not hope,
for hope would end only in despair."
In tho train tho next day. on the way to
Westholt. Arthur Hazard remembered the >
story ho had heard, and ho felt a great j
curiosity to soo tho heroine of so peculiar a !
tale.
Squiro Drayton was tho richest landod
proprietor in the largo and fertile county in
which Westholt was situated. His house
was a handsome, rambling building, sur
rounded by trees, and overlooking beau
tiful gardens, rh h pastures, and well-tilled
fields.
His family consisted of his daughor Lois.
II Widowed sister. „a H nephew. III.) hoi. of
his only brother.
Arthur liked Lois ut oneo. Hhe wus it
refliied-lookinir Kill 01 uhout twenty-live
years of age. wllh Inrgo. sott brown ovus.
an ollvo complexion, an abundance of
chestnut hair, and a litho and L'rnrerui tlrr
ure; but sho was shy*anl renerv.Mi and
talked little, even to her father. ~ '
Arthur rather prided himself upon his
ability to read character. He thought he
understood that of Lois, and the fact that
she had been able to keep secret for three
years her reasons for refusing to marry the
man she loved puzzled him very much.
"She does not look like a woman who
could keep a socrot." ho thought. "I should
say that sho could he frightened Into utmost
unything. Bhe has a weak mouth, and is
credulous and timid."
This opinion was strengthened us ho
became more acquainted with hor, and he
folt a greater desire than ever to penetrate
the mystery which sun ounded her broken
engagement.
r rornups iieury uraytou can Help mo. - m
thought.
1 And. with this object in view, he cultiva
ted that youug man's acquaintance.
| But the Squire's nephew proved of a
! surly, unsociable nature, and showed no
disposition to meet Arthur's advunoes oven
hah way.
Arthur at length concluded to let him se
verely alone, and turned his attention to
Mrs. Andrews, who was a kind, motherly
woman, fond of talking, and of a gonial,
confiding nature.
She ha I takon a great fancy to Arthur,
and he found it easy to draw from her all
that she knew or surmised concerning her
: niece's love affair.
But she could tell him very little, and it
! was substantially the some as he hud heard
: from the Major.
I "Is her cousin in love with her?" asked
i Arthur, with a start of surprise,
i "Yes; he has been in love with her for
. yours, and has asked her half a dozen times
'to marry hini. lie was keenly disappoint
ed when she became engaged to Mujor
Hartwoll. but bore it much better than I
hud expected. llis wedding-gift to her was
as handsome as anything she received, and
he could ill afford such a present, for his
income is very small, and ho is partially
dependent on my brother. I think lie is
still bent on winning her. and probably
thinks she will consent to marry him at last
from sheer weariness nt his pcisistence.
But I think that scarcely possible."
The day following that on which ho had
had this conversation with Mrs. Andrews.
Arthur was walking through a Hold with the
Squire, who was explaining his method of
fertilization, when all at onco they wore
startled by a loud "Good-morning. Squire,"
uttered in a clear, feminine voice.
They turned, and saw a young woman
standing on a low stile which separated the
field from a tiny orchard, in the middle of
which was a small cottago, overgrown with
vines.
"Good-morning, llose." said tho Squire,
coldly, and then continued his conversation
With Arthur.
Tho young woman appeared a little
piqued at being thus summarily disposed
of. and tossed her head pettishly, her bold
black eyes fixed on Arthur, whoso young,
athletic figure evidently took her fancy.
But she did not speuk again, and tho
Squire soon moved away from the vicinity
of tho stilo.
"I hoar that Rose Ellis is back again."
said Mis. Andrews, at the dinner-table.
"Yos, I saw her this morning." said the
Squire.
"I hoped when sho went away that wo
were rid of her for ever"—and Mrs. An
drews sighed. "Her grandmother told mo
that sho hud excellent wages and wan got
| ting along well. I wonder what lias in
duced hor to return."
"Pure deviltry, of course." said 1
Squire. "She'll have tho whole neiglib
hood by the oa- sin a week's time. R
isn't happy unless she is tho central fig
of a perpetual broil."
| "Shoisavory handsome girl." said Ai
i thur, "but of a very coarse stylo."
"Her beauty has been hor bane." s
j Mrs. Andrews.
"Her grandmother used to bo housekeeper
here a great many years ago. but lately sho
has lived in a little cottage tho Squire guvo
her. about a mile away. Roso has almost
broken the poor old woman's heart; she has
mi idea that hor beauty will puve her way
into a higher sphere than that in which she
was born, and in some way she manages to
make the acquaintance of nearly every gon
itleman who comes into the neighborhood.
jThon a fuss of some kind is always sure to
follow."
| "I believe she would stoop to anything to
gain her end." said tho Squire. "She is un
scrupulous to tile last degree, and utterly
without delicacy or refinement. I beg you
{to avoid her. Hazard, or you may have a
noose about your neck before you know it.
She is extremely artful, mid her beauty and
audacity make her dangerous."
Neither Lois nor Henry made any remark
on the subject; but. glancing at the lattor,
Arthur saw that his face was sourlot, and
that his hands shook as he took a cup of
coffee a servant bunded him.
"Evidontly ho has had some experiences
of the wiles of tho fair Rose," thought
Arthur, and felt very sorry for him.
But. a little later, pity was changed to a
very different emotion.
The Squire's household retired early, as
is customary in tho country, and at ten
o'clock that night Arthur was on his way to
his room.
Aff ho was about to enter it. he saw a
scrap of paper folded like a note lying just
outside his door. He picked it up, and,
opening it. read us follows:
"Meet me to-night at tho big oak tree near
the pasture-gate. I will be there at cloven,
and you must not fail to come. I must and
will see you."
Arthur could scarcely believe that tho
note was intended for himself, and yet Ills
curiosity was excited, and at eleven
o'clock, feeling restless and unable to sloop,
ho concluded to investigate the vicinity of
that old oak tree if only to kill time. As he
neared tho oak tree lie heard voices raised
in angry dispute.
He cront elosor, and could distinguish the
forms of a man and a woman standing
facing each other. The woman was speak
ing now, and Arthur paused,
"I toll you once for all that I won't wait
any longer," she was saying. In a fierce,
sullen tone. "I've waited long enough.
I've come back to make you keep your
proiniso, and von can't put me off again
with excuses. If you don't look out you'll
got yourself Into trouble."
"Hush! you can't be too earoful what you
say," and Arthur, to his amazement, recog
nized tho low. cautious voice us that of his
host's nephew. "1 tell you it. will como all
right if you only have a little patience.
Every one says she can't live long, and
when I have a little money to bless myself
with you'll soo that I won t forget you. If
you'll only keep quiet I'll have matters sot
tlod in six mouths' time."
"That's just what you said last year, and
the year before, and the year before that.
While I'm having a 'little patience' you'll
ho getting married to I.ois Drayton. Oh,
I've hud things tobl mo! There's them who
watches out for me. No. you'll marry
me now and we'll wait together for your
cousin's money."
"I toll you it would bo madness for ino to
take such a stop. I oso, do listen to reason.
I wouldn't come in for a cent if you wore
my wife. Wait a while, and do make up
your mind to go away for a few months."
"No, vou can't throw no more dust iu my
ovch. If you'd been hoilist and meant
what pou said, you wouldn't have put mo
off so lonir. And if I had known you as
well throe years ago as I do now. I wouldn't
have taken any part in cheating your cous
in. I'd have let her marry her gentleman."
"Hush, hush, Roso, for Heaven's sake!
It would ruin us both if you should be over
heard."
"Who sto overhear mo? I rather guess
there ain't many folks hereabouts out o'
their beds at tnis hour."
"Still, you can't bo too careful. Come,
lot's walk toward tho cottago; we can talk
us wo go ulong."
They moved away, and Arthur heard no
more.
But ho had heard enough to fill him with
the keenest suspicion and distrust.
Was it possible that at last he had
stumbled on a clow to tho mystery that
hud bullied him ovor since his arrivul at
Westholt?
"She must have told Lois some big yarn
against the Major," thought Arthur.
But then lie inmembored that I.ois had
doclurod positively that she had heard
nothing against the ehuructor of her be
trothed.
He lay awake until daylight, cogitating
over tho matter, and whon at last ho foil
asleen it was with the determination to un
ravel tho mystery at any cost.
Alter breakfast ho drew Lois aside, and
asked if he could soo her alone in tho libra
ry. She Answered in tho afflrmutlve, look
ing a little surprised at so strange a ro
quust, and led the way to the room at once.
Arthur closed the door and motlonod to
her to take a seat on the sofa. Hhe did so,
and he sat down by her side, a little puz
zled how best to begin his task. Tho light
rn full on hor rue. Ho could sue every
change in its expression, which was uxuet
ly what he desired.
"Miss 1.0i5," Arthur began, "I havo not
told you. 1 think, thatthc best friend I have
on earth is Cyril Hartwoll."
Every particlo of color forsook her faoo. a
nervous trembling seized hor. and she put
out her hand imploringly toward him.
"lw> not speak of him." aim said, in a low.
shaken volco. "I—l cannot—boar It.; ami
—and it, is useless. What I said three years
ago I must say now."
"But 1 havo something to toll you—some
thing you must hear." said Arthur.
"It can mako no difference in—in any
thing." she said, still in the same low. hesi
tating voice.
"I must Insist, bowovor, that vou listen
to what I have to tell you. Miss Drayton.
I assure you thnt you will not regret having
done so. I did not know until just before
1 came down here what it was that had so
HuUdoand Cyril Hartwell's life. I have
km.wn him only a little more than two
years, ami ho is not one to earrv his heart
on his sleeve. But ho told me the story of
his acquaintance with vou the night before
i loft town; but he could not tell mo why it
was that you refused to many him the
very day boforo the ono set for the wed
ding.
-1 have never told any ono that, r never
shall. It is useless to ask mo to do so. I
would die sooner."
-Will you not let mo t *ll him?" asked
Arthur. "Will you not let mo explain to
him that it was through the machinations
of an artful woman that ho was robbed of
his bride, and that you wore ernolly
ohoutod? Miss Lois, did you not know
enough of the character or Rose Kills to
make you doubt "
Lois started up. her oyos glittering, a
deathly pallor on her lovely face.
-Rose! Was It Rose?" she cried* "I
never know that—l never oven suspoctod it.
Mr. Hazard, how did you diseovor this?
For hoavon's sake, toll mo! l)o not keep
mo in suspense!"
She sank back, trembling. 011 the sofa,
her dollcato hands clasped in piteous ap
peal.
For a moment Arthur was silent. Ho
scarcely know how to proceed.
"Did you never suspect, then, that your
cousin Henry was attached to this girl, and
that it was through his influence that you
were made so wretched?" he asked at
length.
"Henry attached to Rose!" said Lois,
slowly. "Why, Honrv 1"
She paused, blushing painfully.
"Henry has repeatedly assured you of his
attachment to yourself, you would say,"
suggested Arthur.
"Yes. He has long desired to marry mo,
even before mv engagement to—to—Major
Hartwoll."
"And yet. three years ago, 110 promised to
marry Rose Kills. She has returned home
now, determined to make him fulfill that
promise. Ho has put her oIT from timo to
time with tho excuse that 110 was poor, and
has told her that at your death he would
Inherit your money, and could then marry
her. Ho tells her that you cannot live long,
but that if ho married her now you would
not leave him a penny, and that she must
therefore have patience."
Lois' pale cheeks had flushed. There
was an angry sparklo in tho soft, dark eyes
raised to Arthur's face.
"llow have you learned all tills, Mr.
Hazard?" she asked.
"Will you not toll me first how Rose
Ellis managed to deceive you?"
"If I only dared!" murmured the poor
girl, sighing. "I havo kept silent so long
that now "
"For your own sake—for Cyril's!"
She did not speak for a moment. Her
face was hidden in her hands, and a nerv
ous tremor shook her from head to foot.
"It must havo been from some powerful
motive that you havo kopt silont so long,"
said Arthur, looking at her pityingly.
"It was for his sake, for Ills alone," she
burst out, almost wildly. "T did
think of mv-.-lf at .ill. Rut. oh. I could
not have his blood upon my hands. Mr.
Hazard. yon will think me f<x Ush * n
. Oward'and eiid'ly frig 111enotl.^dho ' veni I.g
! - for- J was to ho mun i. I. 1 went with old
Mrs. Hinds to seo a nick rhlld. to whom I
m dusk before l
foi lioine, and I took a path through
the wood, which was shorter than going
around by tho road. All at onoo a heavy
cloak was thrown over my head, and I was
forced to my knees. Then the cloak was
torn asido, and looking up I t-uw a woman
standing over me. llor face was concealed
by a hideous black mask, and I did nor
recognize her voico. Bho told 1110 that she
loved Cyril, and hail sworn to kill him
sooner than see any other woman than her
self beoome his wife. She said that if I
dared marry him she would shoot him
through the heart within an hour alter the
ceremony. She swore this, calling on
heuven to witness her vow. and so solemn
was her inannor that I did not doubt for an
instant that slio would carry out her threat
it I fulfilled my engagement to Cyril. I had
heard frequently of Just such desperate
doods committed by jealous and re
vengeful women. On my knees I
promised her that I would give Cyril up.
and would refuse any explanation of the
act. Hho told me that if I married him his
blood would be upon my head. This was
111 v reason for breaking my engagement,
and I dared not son Cyril for four lie would
wring my secret from mo. and then per
suade mo there was no danger, and insist
on running tho risk. My love for Cyril gave
me eourago to shield him from danger at 110
matter what cost to myself. It I married
him it was at tho risk of his life. I could
not thus put it in jeopardy 1"
"How cruelly you have suffered I" said
Arthur. And thon ho told hor of tho con
versation lie had overheard the night
before.
"Your cousin's motive in preventing your
marriage is very plain," ho said, in con
clusion. "Ho hoped to win you for him
self, while ho led ltoso to believe that it
was simply that he might oome into pos
session of your money in case you died un
married."
"1 would not have believed Honrysoba.se,
so cruel!" said Lois
"Suppose wo send for Rose and ask
hor a few plain questions?" suggested Ar
thur.
"Do just what you think right,"said Lois
"I do not fear her now."
A servant was dispatched to the cottage
at once, and soon loturued accompanied
by Rose, who had not imagined for a mo
ment tho real reason why hor presence was
desired.
8110 had thought Mrs. Andrews wanted
to send some special message to hor grand
mother which could not be intrusted to a
servant, and when she was ushered into
tho library and saw the Squire. Mrs. An
drews, Lois and Aithur Hazard in council,
nilo was throughly frightened for once in
hor bold, reckless life.
At first she denied llutly having played
any such pn.it as that ascrihod to her; but
when she saw that tho story was known in
all its details, stio broke down und con
fessed.
Hho had been induced, sho said, by Henry
to intercept Lois in tho wood, and to
frighten hor as she hud done; for Henry
was poor and needed lus cousin's money,
which would, of course, como to liini at
her death if sho died unmarried.
"And 110 prornisod to make me Ills wife
inside of six months; but 110 put it oil", say
ing he was too poor. I'm so-ry now that I
ever lent my hand to deceiving Miss Lois,
Hquiro. It wus too bad to cheat her for
nothing."
"You ought to be sorry." said tho
Kquire, sternly, "No punishment would
be too severe for you. At present, how
ever. I cannot determine whutsteps to take.
You may go, and I hope nover to see your
face again!"
Rose quailed undor the looks lovelodupon
her. and shrunk from the room, unable to
mako any reply.
The Hquire then sent for his nephew, and
a stormy intoi view ensued. Henry Dray
ton had 110 excuse to offer for his treachery
save his love for Lois, end this his uncle
rofusod to accept.
"Go," ho said. "You aro tho son of my
only brother, and I loved him well, but I
hope heaven will spare mo tho pain of ovor
hearing your name ag in."
An hour later Henri Drayton had left his
uncle's house for evei and a few days later
sailed for Australia, accompanied by Rose
Ellis, tho guilty partner of his villainy.
Arthur Hazard was eager to inform Major
Hartwoll of the happy turn affairs had tak
en. and rode into Wostholt at ouco to dis
patch a telegram to him.
"Coino at once." ho said. "I havo fath
omed tho mystery, and your presence is
earnestly desired."
At noon tho next day tho Major was at.
Westholt.whoro Arthur met him with a car
riage, and gave him a full and complete his
tory of all that had occurred.
Tho Major lists lie 1 in silence, too deeply
moved to speak, as he realized all that Lois
had suffered for his sake.
"She is in tho parlor wuiting for you,"
said Aithur. as they drove up the broad
carriage road.
Tho Major entered the house with hur
ried. anxious tread, put his hand on tho
knob of tho pa lor door, hesitated a momont
as if struggling tor self-control, and then
pushod it open.
There was a cry.
"Cyril! oh. Cyril! Cyril!"
"Lois! Oh, my poor darling! my poor
little girl!"
Then the door closed, and Arthur hoard
no more.
What's in a Word?
A Now York pastor, who, though a
Scotchman, had lived in America for
ovor forty years, was one day taken to
task ly his daughter for the broadness
of his accent in the pronunciation of
the word difference.
"How do I pronounce it?" he asked.
"You say 'dufference.'"
"And wiiat do you say ?"
"Difference."
Looking at her for a moment, and
getting her to repeat, lie continued,
"Well, M , will you just bo so kind
as to tell mo tho dnfference between
dufference and dufference V"
Tho daughter gave up her hopeless
scholar to "gang his ain gait" in pronun*
eiation henceforth. Harper's Maya
tine.
LETTER FROM BILL ME.
EVEN AN APPLE WILL TURN WHEN
TRODDEN UPON.
Story of a Visit to Stuurt Robson, Who Was
Pull of Reminiscences ami All of Tiieiu
Interesting - Tlie Comedian's Impersona
tion of the trave-Digger.
-J* he will be pained
when ho reads this to know thut he has
missed a Sabbath with one of tho gentlest,
loveliest characters in history. Mr. Bar
rett's houso is huge and white, and has tho
air of shrinking modesty so noticeable lu
its great but utterly unconscious owner.
Mr. Robson was found at his house, walk
ing undor tho trees and thoughtfully eating
green apples, of which 110 is passionately
fond, lie raises upwards of sixty barrels
of apples on his estate each year, any ono
of which is fatal.
"A neighbor of mine had an odd expoil
once with his apples tho other day," said
Robson. "Ho has some of this same brood.
It is an apple that will turn whon it. is trod
den upon. Nobody but a cider press can
eat ono and live. This friend of mine went
out ono day and discovered u boy named
Jamos sitting up in tho branches of his
apple troe, eating tho luscious fruit and
filling his shirt and trousers with enough to
stay his stomach wiien he got homo. T
w! o h vmi w< 1 do that,' said tho man,
■ Hi for the fruit, but you
ai- '• the 1 roe and disfiguring it.'
|Gh. retorted the lad. knock
- "'Mi ■ s oil. together with the
• U'" <" i- os. . with a largo lignum vita:
apple 'lf you don't go in tho house and
I ko J •*'•'! i ill 'DIII down there and injure
... ... o. said the man, 'I will have
to go to-morrow and tell your father about
you and your insulting language.' 'AH
right,' said tho youth. 'Go in. you old
pessimist, and got tho razzle dazzle if ye
wish. I will, in tho meantime, soloct a few
more of your mirth-provoking fruit.'
"Tho next day. full or wrath, the man went
over to the boy's houso and said to tho
father: 'Sir. 1 havo como to do a very dls*
agreeable duty. I como to tell you of youi
IN ROBHON'S ORCHARD.
boy and the insulting language ho used to
me yesterday ?'
" 'Do not speak of It,' said the old man
ooftly. *He told the doctor and mo and hie
mother about it last night. Ho was very
sorry indeed, very sorry indeed. Your er
rand is unnecessary, lowovor. sir, tho boy
is dead,'
"Thou tho man went homo and did nol
luiuh any for two or three days. Any boy
almost oan pick 011 him now and ho doe*
not resent it."
Robson tells a story as well as anybody 1
know, and I wish I might do it half as well
in print as 110 does in conversation. He is
full of reminiscences, and all of them of in
terest. Ho tells of a little incident in tho
lifo of tho older Booth which was not ol
such groat Importance in history, but 1
would havo given u good sum if I could havo
been oonoealed somewhere so that I could
have seen tho performance.
Young Edwin Booth was just then got
ting so that he could play tho banjo pretty
Well. Ho was doing so in his father's study
ono day whon the groat Forrest entered.
Tho older Booth had tho most profound
respeot and ostooin for tho genius of For
rest. and so he tried to get Edwin to con
ceal his llippant banjo. But Forrost grand
ly motioned him to go on with It,
"Do you play Zip Coon, Edwin?" asked
Mr. Forrest in deop. rovorborating tones.
"Yes, sir,"
"l'lay it."
The groat Hamlet then procoedod to
plunfc the exhilarating notes of tho late Mr.
Coon.
Forrest conversed with tho oldor Booth
a little, but ho kept time with his foot to tho
lascivious plcaslngs of young Edwin's
banjo,
"Do you play tho Gray Eaglo, Edwin?"
asked tho Great Forrest
"Yes, sir."
"Flay it"
Mr, Booth and Mr. Forrost still conversed
In a rambling way, but they kept time to
the melodious pluukings oT tho young
tragedian.
"Do you play tho Sailor's Hornpipe, Ed
win?"
"Yes. sir."
"Flay it"
Mr. Forrost now aroso. So did Juniu-'
Brutus Booth. Their facos were as solemn
as if they wore playing Richard ill. at 11
one night stand, but gently they fell to
skipping tho light and flippant toe. till at
last, in tho retirement of this room, the
two groat tragodians, with no more mirth
in their faces than there is in tho prospects
for tho Grunt monumont fund, hoed it
down, to the banjo plunkety-plunkiugs ol
Edwin Booth.
Whon Horaoo Soaver, of Boston, was
buried in August. Stuart Robson, among
others, was asked to act ns pall bearer.
Ho wrote in reply to the invitation that he
would feci honored to accept, und at the
timo set 110 rode over from Coliasset by u
fast train. That is whero ho made a mis
take. If ho had read tho wisdom of the
great scholar and railway savant, Robert J.
Burdetto, he would havo known that tho
man who is in a hurry should take tho slow
train. Tho Cannon Ball train is generally
throe hours late and tho Flying Dutchman
is frequently abandoned, but tho Jerkwater
Mixed train is reported on timo.
So Mr. Robson was a little late, and tho
enormous audience thronged tho aisles and
extended oven outside of Faine Hall, so
that he could not got In at all. Colonel In
gorsoll was delivering his tribute to the
dead. Ho spoke of Mr. Heaver's great
kindness of heart, and said that "he did not
ask God to for give his enemies. Ho for
gave them himself. His sympathy was
wido as want. and. liko tho sky. bent, above
a suffering world. lie knew that antiquity
added nothing to probability—that lap o of
time can never take the place of c.aise—
and that t ie dust can never gather thick'
enough upon mistakes to make them equal
with tho truth."
But Mr. Robson could not got in. He
•tutwl to those on the outskirts of the orowd
that lie was "ono of tho pall-bearers and
must get in."
"Oh, look at the pull-bcarer." remarked
tho crowd. "Isn't lie a pretty pall-bearer?"
queried those who could not got in them
selves. as they bored holes in Mr. Robson
with their keen elbows. lie tried once in re
to make it understood that ho was one of
the pall-boarnrs, but his voico was split up
the buck and a loud round of mirth was
the immediate reply.
"Alterward," said Mr. Robson, "I learned
that several others had tried to get in be
fore I arrived on tho ground that they woro
pall-hearers, and so the crowd was ready
for me. By that time, if 1 had known that
by giving my ntune 1 would have been car
ried in on a bod of rosos. 1 could not have
dono it. 1 went away. and. as I did so. I
heard a man say: "He is indeed a healthy
looking pall-bearer, is he not? Ho Is prob
ably Borne one. who lives here In Boston and
nas mane n not mat ne would get in and
hear the address. Or perhaps ho is a man
who furnishes gloom for funerals. He
looks llk- it. Did you notice his sad faco?"
Mr. ltobson then came away, and. taking
a slow train for Cohasset. wus very soon
home.
Probably since tho days of Damon and
Pythias there has rarely been such deep
devotion and alTectlon between two men as
that which existed between Robson and
ill I IflV
HIGH JINKS AMONG THE TRAGEDIANS.
Chnrlio Thome. Everything about tho
place brings back to "Rob" tho memory of
his old friend, especially the welcome that
'J borne always had for him when ho got
home. Thome was always thero first, con
cealed behind a big tree near tho door.
When the proper moment came ho would
spring forth like a culinary Roman, with a
breastplate mado of tin pie plates, a helmet
consisting of a tin milk pail with the hail
under his chin, armed with a rolling-pin,
and. shielding himself from attack by
niouns of a bright tin dish pan, lie would
burst forth, and alter a Shakspearean howl
of welcome, he would suddenly cast away
his armor and oxeouto a breakdown on the
green.
At ono timo Robson was playing tho
Gravedigger and Mr. Forrost Hamlet.
When they came to tho burial he noticed
that tho priest spoke rather thickly and his
feet were balanced doubtfully on tho edge
of tho grave. He seemed to be a little
mixed as to whether it was Ophelia's grave
or a drunkard's grave. If it were tho lat
ter, he seemed to have sorious notions of
filling it himself.
Mr. Forrest noticed it. As well as I can
recall the words they were about as follows:
Priest—Her obshkies have boon sho far
n'large oz wo have warrantish
Forrest (in a low growl)— Most d—d, in
toxicated and unproiltablo ass! Bpoaking
pious words in the most impressive scene
over written or portrayed, you. sir, balance
yourself upon the verge of a property grave
and with tho hellish odor of rum about
your garb, with eyes like tnodead, yet elo
quent codfish, you, sirrah, essay to pro
nounce tho obsequies of tho fair Ophelia!
Pah!
Priest—Her death was doubtful and but
tli* great command o'ershwayd th* order,
she should in ground unshanotilled hero
lodgo till astrump ish played.
Forrest (in a suppressed rumble like dis
tant stage thunder)— Oh. villainous and
most postiferous priest! Could I but get a
hack at thine own obsequios, how joyfully
would I pronounce them. And thou, churl
ish priest, seeking to support the noble
Forrest, when, beshrew me, thou canst not
support tho giant jag thou hast concealed
about thee. Out upon thoo, thou maudlin
shoemaker, thou deep-voiced ass. with
naught to recommend thee but. that cursed
dignity which is, and ovor was, the devil's
(disinfectant for a moss-grown mind.
Priest—For sharitable prayers, shards,
.Hints and pebbles should bo thrown at hor.
vol hero she's allowed hor virgin crants,
hor maiden strowmonts and the bringing
home of bell 11'buriul.
Laertes—Must there no more be done?
I Priest—N'more he dono. You bet. We
should profame shorvico of dead to shing
requium and shuoh sings to hor you know,
as to preach parted wholes (hie).
Forrost (sotto voce, also aside) —Oh.
imost successful und profound inebriate,
thy work is dono. The fair Ophelia can be
'the recipient of no deeper indignity. Bogus
and most rockv priest, hell could not spare
'thoo If it know thy worth. Oh, full orbed
ass with tallowy pate, odds petti kins that
thou shouldst spread tho priestly vest
lments o'or the mammoth jag arid then
(come hero to hie and bray above tho grave
,of fair Ophelia. Begono. dull knave. I bid
•thee tarry not. for at the postern thou wilt
find thy quittance and thy salary. In riper
years when thou dost almost havo a
I
THOBNE'S WELCOME TO ROBSON.
thought, in some short, lucid, bromido In
terval. remember what the groat and only
Forrost told thoo. (Curtain.)
Attention,
It is impossible to overestimate the
effect of simple earnestness and con
cent ration in the affairs of life.
"I sometimes wonder where I should
be now, if I had always given my wholo
mind to my work," said a middle aged
man, engaged in a pursuit for which ho
bad no particular love. He occupied a
fairly good position, as it was, and was
"well respeokit," but tho something
beyond, which ho might havo attained,
had his energy and force of will boon
stronger, would always haunt him :
Larkin Dunton, a practical educator,
says in writing about this very point,
that ho onco asked a boy u question in
regard to his enjoyment of a certain
study, and received this reply:
"Oh, the time spent on that doesn't
amount to much, for the teachers don't
care anything about it."
That carelessly spoken reason would
exactly touch the root of many a simi
lar matter. The teacher lias 110 inter
est, 110 stimulating enthusiasm, and so
the boy has none. A clerk is content
with doing mechanically the liberal
amount of work required of him, and
liis employer feels no interest in open
ing before him the way to a better po
sition. There is 110 affair of practical
life, no matter however unimportant,
which is not marvellously influenced
by earnestness or sloth.
"Why don't you mend your harness
some rainy day, instead of tying it up
with strings?' asked someone of a boy
who had taken a summer's contract tc
drive a milk wagon.
"Oh, lie don't care," said the lad,
pointing to his employer, who sat on
the fence dangling his feet, and smok
ing, "he'd as lieves 'twould be all string,
if 'twould hold together."
Hut the time came when it did not
hold together, and then boy and man
parted, while a river of spilled milk
rolled between, and neither could rea
was only their common
"sliif'lessness" which had been the cause
of tho separation.
'J lie Indians, with their fondness for
symbolic titles, called Phil Sheridan.
"The little-man-that-nieans-business."
Very few men deserve to wear the
name after him, but those who have
any intention of succeeding to one re
ilectinp a faint degree of its luster wil'
need to throw an exceeding earnest'
pess into every act of their daily live#
-Youth's Companion,
| DOGS OF HIGH DEGREE.
silts. HUMI'IIIIEYS YVMITES ENTKU
TAININGLY ABOUT CANINES.
j lluiv Frltx Emmet'* St. Bernard I'mler
j went a Surirleal Operatinii Fox Terri
ers Aro New lite Itage-A Touching
Incident.
J FEW years ago a
b plea for a beaveii
| sinudo by the Rev.
/ J - G. NVood in u
i book, the name of
anee among *all
in the case of ani
to immortality appears to depend not on
their virtues, but 011 their degrees of iu
; telligence. the dog stories to prove there
is no limit to the intelligence of dogs
would make an array of evidence, if they
BPANIHL.
could bo brought together and presented,
that would reasonably insure the dogs a
placo, if, indeed, such a one has not
been provided.
An instance of higher intelligence dis
played by dogs was displayed in a spaniel
owned by Mr. William Mackin, a govern
ment official of Quebec. Spot was accus
tomed to play wilh a kitten, whoso flower
like face gave her the name of Pansy.
Spot would tako Pansy's head in his
mouth and gently roll her to and fro. One
Sunday morning the two wero at play,
and, as it pioved, the dog was too rough,
for when he let go of the kitten she did
not scamper away as usual. The dog
capered about lior, running backward and
forward, to entice her tb play. But the
kittten did not move. Thou Spot camo
to her, turned her over with his nose,
tensed her with his paw, and began to
show signs of great uneasiness. lie
would pause, then begin again to coax
her to get up.
At length ho seemed to realizo that
Pansy was dead, and that he knew the
meaning of death, its sense of loss, and
also its practical results, ho proceeded
to show.
With every evidence of distress ho car
ried her off to the sido of the walk.
There ho dug a hole, put the kitten in it,
covered it carefully with earth, and went
away. When tho family returned from
ST. BBRNABD.
church they expressed their surprise nt
not being met as usual by tho dog and
cat.
Dogs aro now so completely members
of the family that they sfiare the politics
aud prejudices of tho* family. A young
woman from Canada is an ardent Tory
and her black-and-tan is just as zealous.
"Gladstone gives you this piece oi
cake," she says, and tho dog turns up hit
noso with an unmistakable sneer ami
walks away.
"No, Lord Boaconsfield left it to you in
his will," and tho dog runs back wag
ging his tail and eats with the greatest
satisfaction.
"What wonld you do for your country?'
she asks, and ho throws himself motion
less on the floor. He would die for the
country.
"But what would you do for your rnis-
KNOMsn Tinnivm.
tress? w Up bo jumps and frisks gavlj
about the room, lie will live for b
mistress.
There is a young girl under a distin
guished doctor hero in town nt his pri
vate hospital. None the less she doee
not hold to his school of medicine, as
she intimates through a livoly pup sho
hns with her.
"What does Homeopathy do?" she con
tinues, and the dog jumps up and runs
bounding nil over the chairs, much to the
Doctor's delight, although his profes
sional intelligence bus been challenged
by the little brute.
Even the diseases of dogs and their
methods of treatment ore bringing them
nearer to humanity. Thousands of
friends made by "Fritz's" beautiful St.
irEwrotrxDHH®. I
Poniard Flinlimmon will rejoice that he)
lias been successfully operate I on for a'
large fibroid- tumor. Dr. Glove-, who
was tbo surgeon. lias „ preserved ike
trophy, which is noble of its kinu. Pliu
limmou, he suys. was an admirable pa
tient. lie was strapped onto the operat
ing table, which is an ordinary kitchen
tablo with holes in which are inserted
hooks, pla< ed in a line describing the
dog's body, and through which the tares
are passed. Plinlimmon seemed to know
that only kindness was meant him, nnd
submitted willingly to the preparations.
The nrea to bo operated 011 was then
rendered insensible by hypodermic iujec
jections of cocaine, aud then the knife
wns applied. Throe times a day the
wound was dressed, and after a time
when the dog wns brought, without a
word lie would lie down nnd raise his
law for the doctor to begin. The wound
haouilv healed bv hist iutontion. and in
tureo weens run 11111111011 was well.
Pliulimmou is the most expensive dog
in the country. Mr. Emmet paid $5,000
for him in England. He is a St. Ber
nard, tawny orange with white mount
ings, a gigantic fellow, and as Fritz's
friend and comnaniou ho has a larger
number of friends and admirers than any
other dog in the country.
Tho next most popular dog recently
died of the now popular disease, heart
failure. This was a mastiff owned by
Mr. Moore, of the Melrose kennels, Mas
sachusetts, who paid $5,000 for him on
the other side. The prices paid for dogs
are enormous. A common price is $250
for a valuable hunting dog, and puppies
$25 and SSO. One of the most common
MASTITP.
sights in the shopping region is men with
their arms full of roly-poly puppies in
their most enticing stage of babyhood,
and surrounded by a constantly changing
but always admiring crowd of women and
girls. First one and then another of
these little puff balls is put down on the
walk and allowed to waddle and try to
steer its way alone about tho pavement.
A baby's first steps aro not more beguil
ing. and a chorus of feminine endearmont
rises on high. These impromptu dog
marts are very popular, and appearances
seem to show that they are also profitable.
The fashion in dogs, as in other things,
is fickle. The flimsy Italian greyhound,
the pug, the skye, the toy terrier, and
such had their day. At present the fox
terrier is supreme. It is tyranny of fash
ion that brings tho fox terrier to town.
Ho has no natural affiliations with streets
and parks, in which an inhuman edict de
mands that both in winter and in summer
OBEVHOUND.
{dogs shall go muzzled or with a leader.
| The fox terrier belongs to stnbleß, woods,
| and lanes. But he is with us and is very
much at home.
Of all breeds of net dog none has met
with such general favor as the skye. But
skyo is a comprehensive term. The true
skye is not, in fact, a pet dog at all. The
real skye is a long-bodied, low dog, with
a gold and bluo hard wiry coat, and a
terrier head built for killing. But all sorts
of combinations of Yorkshire and Scotch
terriers have resulted in a harmless silk
j en, long-haired pot dog, which goes by
the name of skyo.
A rarer, but ono of the most lovable
; dogs, is tho cocker spaniel. There is a
| lively group of these dogs in almost all
(the fine stables.
I The most ultra fashionable dog is the
or French poodle. Tho poodle
allows for costume, as it were, by shear
ing the long frowzy coat in whatever way
■ITB TEBBIBB.
the fancy of its owner may dictate. It
used to be the mode to give him a loon
ine appearance, but later styles make oi'
him a dude. He has rings or curls abou
his legs, nnd not unusually he wears 01
ono of his logs silver bangles.
Authorities ou dogs say that there ii
no difference in intelligence among dif
ferent breeds, but tho cauiche and tin
collie seem more human aud teachable:
Mr. do Ruiz, the Consul from Ecuador,
has long had a poodle which he calls
Puck, that came to him in a touching
way. The car carrying dogs to the pound
one hot summer day was passing along.
It was so full that the dogs were in a
heaping, writhing mass. Suddenly ovei
the bonds of all and over the tail-board
bounded a wliito poodle, who ran
to Mr. do Ruiz as he was passing,
leaped to his knees and looked
up in his face. There could have
peon 110 111010 eloquent plea for protoc*
lion. Mr. de Ruiz interposed ana Puck
POODLE.
Iras since been with htm. Pnck is not
only a pure-blooded, perfect canine, but
hud boon taught many tricks, which ho
soon begin to show off. Nothing was
over known of his antecedents, but ho
has always showed such an interest in
music, aud such readiness to display his
accomplishments, that it is supposed ho
belonged to somo show of performing
dogs. No less remarkable are his high-bred
manners, aud his habits which are so
gentlemanly and refined.
Japanese dogs, Mexican hairless dogs,
<iueer little creatures from Buenos Ayres,
and the little creeping dachshund are
preferred by individual tastes. The bull
terrier pup, which is RO fascinatingly
bas found friends among women of
courage and pronounced tastes. St.
Bernards and mastiffs are now among the
appointments of any well-ordered coun
try place.— Mary day Humphreys in Chi
cago Inter-Ocean.
BOAODING-H&USB mist IVSS Cat Sunday
dinner)— Mr. Jones, why do you not
oat some chicken? Jones (who has
labored fifteen minutes trying to carve
a log) Thanks, I never work on Sum
da v.
MANY professions are crowded, but
there is always room at the top. Take
the elevator, young man, and you will
'rot there.
SLIM waists are often the result el
mere force of habit.