AH ORIGINAL EXPERIENCE IN DREAM
LAND.
She Bat alone in the twilight gloom,
Alone by the window in her cozy room •
But her thought* were busy with one afar.
AH the tender blue eyes met the evening star
She whifl]eml fomlly, "My husband I my life I
Have you for gotten your own little wife?
No letter to-day, aud miles apart.
Thee fwr >' ou have n*y heart."
Ami the parted, as by magic power,
To waft a God bless him!" in the twilight hour.
*°v. g l , en cur,s I' re Bed tho window pane.
While the blue eye^peered up the darkened
lane.
List! footsteps lightly mount the stair,
And a traveling man with face so fair,
lAjye beaming in his soft brown eyes.
Quickly enters. Ah ! a glad surprise I
Now the days will like moments slip,
As heart to heart and lip to lip.
With one wild bound to imprint a kiss
w° r . rorß [ M was down into a fearful abyss :
llie shattered glass and the broken beam
All told the talo—'twas only a dream.
—American Commercial Traveller.
A SKATING CONTEST;
OR
The Train-Dispatcher's Love.
lfY EDWARD P. STOKE.
HE story I am about to re
t&late, coining as it did under
£Jmy personal observation, I
have no hesitation in vouch
ing for the truth of.
The scene is in a pretty
town of about 5,000 inhab
itants, which nestles cosily
in a broad valley between
the foothills of one of the mountainous
Western States, pierced by one of the
great iron arteries of commerce of the
Gould Southwest system of railways.
The time was the month of May, 188-.
At the period mentioned 1 was asso
•ciaied with my brother in the publica- j
of a small weekly paper in this j
nourishing little town of V——. I be
came acquainted with almost every one
in town, and was always ready to par
ticipate in snch of the social pleasures
as the limited population allowed.
■ The roller-skating craze had seized,
the town during the preceding winter,
and of course all the girls and boys
learned to skate. The society boys and
girls of D were like all boy's and
girls of small towns, in that they di
vided themselves into "sets" or crowds,
and it is with tho members of the set
to which I belonged that my story lias
to deal. For present purposes we will
know them as Maggie lieynolds and
William Byron.
Maggie Reynolds was the ac
knowledged belle of the town, and she
carried her honors with becoming
grace. She was a slender, delicate
little bunch of nerves, of the brunette
style. The only daughter of wealthy
parents, she was spoiled, petted and
willful. She was both vivacious and
pretty, and of course a most agreeable
companion.
William Byron, who, by the way,
was a close friend of mine, was a tram
dispatcher in the service of the rail
way upon which D is located. He
was a good mate for Maggie, and from
the time the pair became close friends
at the skating rink everybody thought
it would be a match.
Byron was also of small stature. He
had seen a deal of the world and was a
ready wit, very much of a gentleman,
and exceedingly well thought of by
the girls, as well as by the public gen
erally. He was temperate and indus
trious, which, taken in consideration
with the fact that lie was an excellent
dispatcher, established him in the con
fidence of both his chief and the super
intendent of the division.
William Byron and Maggie Bey
nolds were both graceful, finished
dancers, and, as they learned to skate
together, made the most accomplished
and best-appearing couple that fro- j
queuted the rink. They were together
so much that the rumor of their en
gagement was finally accepted as n
fact.
_The rink was to close for the sum
mer with a grand masquerade and
skating contest, numerous piizes be
ing offered. It was known}that Mag
gie and Will intended to contest for
the first prize, and everybody said
they would win it. I never knew the
causes which led up to a change of
this programme, but the change was
made, and it was an expensive one—at
least I always thought it had a very
strong bearing on the events of the
succeeding hours.
I am not a believer in premonitions,
but I can recollect very distinctly that
I never looked upon the friendship be
tween the two with even the smallest
degree of favor, and f knew Maggie's
disposition and feared that she was
merely having a little pastime at Will's
expense, and I felt equally as sure that
Will was deeply in love with her.
When the night for the contest final
ly arrived, the whole town assembled
at the rink, and from my position in
the callerv I could see every one in
the hall. Maggie had arrived, accom
panied by lier mother and brother, and
Will was on the floor a few minutes
before she arrived. She went im
mediately to the gallery with
her mother, while Will remained
011 the floor below, mingling with the
merry throng of maskers, and I no
ticed that he was not in liis usual
spirits. He looked aiul acted ill at
"ease. He was nervous, and acted as
though he, knew he was being scruti- j
nized. Maggie did not wear her usual I
bright, happy smile, and did not act as j
though she intended to skate.
• At the last moment before the con- !
test began, a well-dressed, dapper
young man, a passenger hrakeman em
ployed 011 the road, who passed a
good deal of his time in D , and
whom I had often seen at the rink,
and noticed as an excellent skater, as
cended the gallery stairs and sought
Miss Maggie's side, and they exchanged
a few words, and Maggie arose, accom
panying him to the floor below. In a
moment they appeared together in
full view of the audience, which di
vined in a moment the meaning of the
move. Maggie and Will had quarreled,
and she was going to skate for the
prize with Mr. Sander, for that was
the name of the good-looking and ac
complished young skater.
Will left the rink before the contest
was over, without exchanging a word
with Maggie.
As soon as I could get away from
the contest I searched for but could
get no trace of him. I know now that
he did not close his eyes in sleep that
night.
The next day was a beautiful one.
When Will entered the trainmaster's
office at the depot at 8 o'clock a. m.,
and relieved the man who had been on
since midnight, he looked badly, and
the other dispatchers noticed that he
was nervous and unsteady. He sat
down at his table, took the key in a
mechanical way, and commenced work.
He was handling the north end of the
line between St. Louis and I) -,
forty-two miles of road.
It was a busy day. Besides the two
or tiiree ireignc trains eacA way, \\ ill
hail to handle one north-bound accom
modation, the south-bound through
express, and the branch mail line, and
added to this, two work-trains were
put out between St. Louis and a point
twenty-two miles south, and a short
suburban accommodation train was or
dered on for the summer months, and
in half an hour he had the road clear
for the passenger trains, and brought
the new suburban out to K , the end
of its run, where it was to lie until its
return at noon.
At this juncture the Division Super
intendent was notified that the Gen
eral Superintendent was coming out
over the road in his special car, ac
companied by two New York railway
kings, one of whom had his son along.
The Superintendent said he would be
ready to leave St. Louis at 9 o'clock,
and wanted to run regardless of all
other trains. The Division Superin
tendent turned to Will, saying:
"Byron, the Superintendent, wants
to leave St. Louis at 9 o'clock on his
special. He w ants to reach here by 11
o'clock, and will have the right of way,
and you hardly have time to make a
schedule, so you can run him down
this far by wire. Give him a good
run."
I It was no little work to rearrange
I the time of all trains between the two
I points, but Will soon had everything
| open so that he could come right
through.
The arrangement was no sooner
made than the Superintendent sent a
second dispatch to the effect that he
' would not leave until 10 o'clock. This
upset all previous arrangements, and
new time must be made, and new or
ders given to every train. It required
careful, level-headed work, and it was
done.
At 10 o'clock the Superintendent
again changed his leaving time to 11
o'clock, and the exasperating work had
to be again gone over.
The crowding of 80 much work into
such a short space of time resulted in
another delay, and the special did not
leave St. Louis until several minutes
after 11 o'clock. The Superintendent's
private car carried the two millionaires I
and that official, while the son of one
of the rich men rode oil the engine.
The first twenty-tive miles of their
course lay along the river bank. The
special would reach K , where the
suburban accommodation, north bound,
was due to leave at noon, at just about
the same hour—possibly a few minutes
after 12 o'clock. Following the ser
pentine curves of the track along the
liver bank, the special bounded on its \
way.
Two miles north of K was the
M Biver, which was bridged by the
railway. It was a small stream, only
about two hundred feet wide. On the
south bank,nearest to K—, was a switch
and n small station, at wliicli an oper
ator was not regularly stationed. The
little station was known as \Y . The
bridge was put at the confluence of the
small stream with the mighty Missis
sippi. Coming on to the bridge from
the north the tracks rounded a precipi
tous bluff with a sharp curve,so that to
a south-bound train the bridge was out
of sight until the locomotive was al
most upon it.
With the intention of making W
a meeting point for the north-hound
suburban and south-hound special, hv
giving the suburban the siding, Will
called up K , and gave the en-,
gineer of the suburban orders to leave
on time. On that fatal day there was
-110 operator at W . Of course the
suburban would stop at W , hut it
should have had orders to take the sid
ing and wait there for the special.'
Now it was bound to meet the special
before another stop was made, for the
latter had orders to "run regardless."
The suburban had hardly more than
started until Will called up W to
give it orders to take the siding for the
special. He had not known that there [
was no operator at W that day.' j
He received 110 answer to his call, j
Time was precious. He called again, :
and received no answer.
"What's the matter with W ?" he '
asked. "1 can't raise him, and if he
don't come to his key before the sub
urban reaches him, there will be a col
lision with the Superintendent's spe
cial."
"There is no operator at W to- |
day," answered the trainmaster, who '
had just entered the room.
"My Clod! then they will meet on
the bridge, and nothing can prevent
it!"
A ghastly pallor came over Will's
face, and lie sank back in his chair in
a dead faint. The trainmaster took
the key, and Will was carried into the
next room and revived with cold water.
They kept him close in the Superin
tendent's room, and would tell him
nothing save that the wreck was not
very had.
It cost two lives. The son of the
New York millionaire, who was riding
on the special's engine, was jammed
into the fire-box and literally burned
alive. The fireman of the special en
gine was caught between the engine
and tender and so badly crushed that
he died in a few hours.
At 11 o'clock that night I met Will
as he came out 011 the street from the
Superintendent's office. I hardly knew
him, and as I took his hand he scarcely
spoke to me. He didn't know yet the
result of the accident.
"How did it end—how many were
killed?" he asked me.
"Well, there are three hurt—one
pretty badly," I answered, not wanting
to tell him the truth.
We were standing near the depot.
On the platform around the corner was
a crowd of excited engineers, firemen,
and brakemen. One of them spoke out
loudly, saying:
"Well, hoys, I am not rich, hut I
have thirty-five cents left to help buy
a rope for that operator."
He did not know that Will was
standing within ten feet of him. Will
heard it. It was like a knife-thrust.
He reeled and fell into my arms. I car
ried him across the street into a saloon
and soon revived him. The strain was
too much for him and he fainted away
twice before I could get him home.
His mind wandered. I finally got him
to bed and gave him a heavy dose of
choral. He gave way for a few min
utes beneath the influence of the drug,
hut he would wake and start from his
bed with a look of terror 011 his face.
"They can't hang me, can they? It
wasn't my fault. There was 110 or
ator at W . I couldn't help that."
He kept on in this rly
morning when he at d ■ k into a
deep sleep of exhaust I ,i r ap
peared on tho street t - e >f three
weeks. He left tow •> day.
He was brave, thougl To day he
has never mentioned a me to
me. Will left D met him
a year after in an e n ft
large city far from D
"I have never attempt * Iran dis-
patcmng since, lie saia to me.
Maggie married a few years later
and also left D . She never men
tioned Will's name in my presence after
that awful wreck the next day after
the skating contest.
Fall Care of Shrubs.
I It is a mistake to let shrubs go with- j
out attention during the summer, and j
growing season. Then it is that they
should be brought into good shape, for,
by watching them as growth is made, |
one can see where pruning and train- I
ing is required, and the necessary work ]
can be done at just the time when it i
will do the most good, for shrubs are j
more tractable while forming branches
j than they are afterward. If you allow i
( a shrub to grow to suit itself all sum
mer, and attempt to rectify what you I
consider its mistake in fall, you will |
find that a great deal of summer
growth may have to be removed to i
secure anything like symmetrical shape, |
and of course these surplus branches j
indicates good deal of summer growth | j
which has been wasted: so much of
the vitality of the plant as was taken i
to produce them has been expended use
lessly; proper attention at the proper
time would have thrown this energy <
into the shrub.
But we must take things as we find
them, and fall finds most shrubs in i i
need of a judicious pruning, if we !
would have them take on a shapely ,
form. Therefore when getting ready j
to give them the winter protection, i
which most of them require to a greater
or lesser extent, give them ft good
pruning, and make them symmetrical, j
It is well to do this before the coming
of cold weather, so that the fresh cuts j
on the limbs w ill have a little chance i
to heal or at least dry over before they j
are laid down and covered.— Ebcn lb. 1
llexford, in La lies' Home Journal, i
She Looked Distinguished.
Newsboys naturally develop a quick- j
ness at reading faces as well as a free- j
domin asking and answering questions. |
One of this class was peddling his !
wares in a railway train, and in pass- 1
ing back and forth was struck with the
appearance of a woman. She looked I
distinguished, and as he dumped his j
paper-covered novels into the laps of !
the other passengers, ho passed her I
by.
At last his curiosity got the better j
of all other considerations. He found
among his books one by Mrs. Stowe, ;
and on his next trip he proffered it to j
the very dignified lady, but she do- '
clined it.
"Excuse me," said the boy, "but ain't !
you Mrs. Stowe?"
The stranger shook her head anddis- :
claimed the compliment. The boy !
went down the aisle, but on his return
he stopped again.
"Then perhaps you're Mrs. Stanton ?"
The woman smiled, and again shook
her head. But the newsboy was not to
b.e battled.
"Would you mind telling me who you
are, ma'am?"
It is not likely that the fellow was
much the wiser when the woman gave
her name as Maria Mitchell. Probably
he had never heard of our famous as
tronomer, but he was equal to the j
emergency.
"Well, I knew you was somebody!" j
he answered, triumphantly.
A Minister's Perquisites.
The perquisites of a minister's life
are, as a general thing, overestimated.
An old clergyman firmly believed this j
who had received a call to a small
church from his much larger parish in |
Massachusetts. A delegation from the j
church was sent to urge him to accept 1
the call. He asked them what the j
salary was. Tliey replied that it was j
about six hundred dollars per year, !
but that the people were very goner- j
oils, and were continually bringing in !
things to the minister.
"Well," answered the old minister,
"I don't wish to offend you, but I must
positively decline. And now let me
give you a bit of my experience. In
my younger days I received a call to a
small parish where, as in the case with
your people, they were very liberal. It j
was their custom to always give the !
minister a ball of butter whenever they
churned, and a quarter of veal when
they slaughtered. I accepted the call.
Things went along as tliey represented
during the first year. After that there
began to be a falling off in their dona- j
tions, until soon 1 received next to
nothing. I began to make inquiries. !
One of my parishioners told me that I j
gave perfect satisfaction, but the peo
pie had begun to 'raise their calves, i
And it has been my experience," con
tinued the old minister, "that donating
parishioners soon begin to 'raise their |
calves.'"
THE cars of the new imperial train
for the Emperor of liussia are lined
with cork. The pop-in of corks is ex
pected to make harmless the poppin* ;
of bullets
COMPULSORY EDUCATION.
|
How your father's mother (God bless
her) used to do it. ,
ENGLISH ILLUSTRATED.
McGinnis was ~i at t ho iing kin
otm.—Chicago /.eilyer.
THE PRIDE OF CHICAGO.
THE GREAT AUDITORIUM BIDDING
COMPLETED.
A Structure s Darin- in Execution ns It
j WHH in Conception—A DeitcripUoit or tlio
I Splendid Edifice—A Wilderness of Mar- j
ble, Hron/e. and Mahogany.
1 E grandest
„ I building ever
erected liv pri
vnto capital has
just been practi
cally completed
ca ®°' " n
Grand Lodge of
the construction
ditorium Build
ing by laying a little piece of granite
thirteen inches long, six inches thick,
and eight inches wide on top of the
long, square tower, which commands a
view of every part of the city. The
ceremony was both elaborate and
unique, and it was witnessed by a
crowd of people that blocked every
avenue leading to the great structure.
The street demonstration preceding
the laying of the stone was a notable
affair, and it was participated in by
the leading Masonic bodies of Illinois.
The Auditorium stands without a
peer in a city whose proud palaces of
trade are the wonder of the world.
From the coping of the sky-piercing
tower down to the massive foundations
the Auditorium is a gigantic illustra
tion of the enterprise and public spirit
J AUMTOMUM
of Lie business men of Chicago. No i
! description can do it justice. For a: i
generation the pile will undoubted re-'
main as it is now—one of the wonders
of Chicago and of the world. The
| mammoth structure will bo ready for
dedication on the night of Dec. 9, when
j Patti, the queen of song, will face Chi
cago's culture and beauty. That wijji
be a great night. Already the dress
makers of two continents are design
ing and making the costumes which
| will be worn on that momentous occa
sion.
i In company with Milward Adams, a
I reporter made a partial tour of the
! Auditorium. The impression created
was that there is more room in tlio
building than there is outdoors. That
!is the only serious objection to the
structure.
"Hid you ever stand on the twentieth
storv of a building?" asked Mr. Adams.
"No; of course not, for the simple
reason that such buildings exist only
in the imagination of aspiring archi
tects."
Mr. Adams said nothing in response
to these insinuations, but led the way
upward. The pair traveled the first
,150 feet without difficulty on an elva
tor which made no stops until the
tenth" lloor was reached. The next
ninety feet jaunt was different —de-
cidedly so. The tower of the Auditorium
is a great building of itself. It would
compare favorably with the best
structures in New York City. Each of
the seven floors of the tower proper
lias from six to ten large rooms. On
the seventeenth floor are the rooms re
served for the Signal Service. In fact,
the weather sharps have rented the
seventeenth, eighteenth, nineteenth,
and twentieth floors of the Auditorium
Building, and are now fitting up the
best appointed signal ottice in the
country.
"We will now go to the twentieth
i floor," said Mr. Adams.
| The twentieth floor is an airy affair
' composed of an iron framework. It is
I 266 feet above Michigan boulevard, but
seems higher. What a view is spread
out before the eyes of those who climb
| j
| The-COFfTfiTONtOr'
I* ID Otron lm ,t%
The • uoo,a.
% M wrer ILI.I/OI
V
THK C OPE-STONE.
jto this awful height. The great me
tropolis is seen as from a mountain
| top. The lake front, with its mile of
grass plats and winding paths, looks
like a playground; Michigan boule
vard, a streamer of tape on which are.
hundreds of toy horses; the break
water, a mile and a half awav, seems
I almost at your feet; and the new I
! water-works crib, four miles away, ap
: pears but a stone's throw distant. What
j is that line of white away out on the,
I lake ? The Michigan shore, sixty miles
] off. Evanston, South Chicago, and
j Michigan City are in view. To the
west the scene is equally wonderful,
but not so clear. Out of a dense cloud
of smoke hundreds of buildings reach
up in tho vain hope of catching a
breath of pure air. Over all hangs tlio
huge smutty bank of dun-colored
clouds, its volume constantly increased
j by the smoke from numberless stacks
I and chimneys. A hundred feet below
j is the central dome of the Exposition
! Building. Tho man-of-war Michigan
j looks like a pleasure yacht as it rolls
lazily on the waves within the shelter
ing arm of the Government pier.
It would lie idle to attempt a de
scription of the great hall in the limited
space of this article. The Grand Opera
House of Paris, which has ever been
considered unapproacnanie, noes not
equal the grander opera house of the
Paris ot America. Imagine a beauti
fully wrought ceiling of solid gold,
studded with ft thousand electric
lights: a stage where a thousand men
can drill; imagine scores of boxes, the
architecture of which has never been
j equaled, and four balconies, back of
I whose graceful curves a multitude may
be seated; a wilderness of marble,
bronze, mahogany and delicate carv
ings: a palace worthy of a Cicsar in the
day of Home's greatest splendor.
"What did it all cost?"
"Between three and four million
dollars," said Mr. Adams.
The Auditorium Building is a struct
ure as daring in execution as it was in
conception. The men who can design,
undertake and carry out such a great
enterprise as this are creators, and
serve for much more than their own
time. Only Chicago, with its bound
less daring,could have undertaken such
an extraordinary venture as this vast
Auditorium—a mighty and majestic
building covering nearly two acres of
ground, and rearing its lofty propor
tions, as contemplated by its noble
tower, 268 feet above flie earth. It
lifts itself, in its noble site on the shore
of Lake Michigan, in such dignity and
greatness as no other private building
in the new world can approach. The
whole structure is a victory of archi
tecture, and the Congress street facade
is over 300 feet long, and is hardly sur
passed by the grandeur and eloquence
of expression of the noted Capitol it
self.
New York and Philadelphia have
nothing to offer in rivalry to it. It is
the most typical building yet erected
of the greatness, progress and civiliza
tion of America. No provincial city
could have been the seat of it. It is
| n't once a triumpii and a proot ol Ainer- i
ican daring and enterprise and gener
ous public spirit. Europe lias no thea
ter, opera house, or hall to match it,
either in magnitude or result. Yet
great as is the Auditorium, it is not
half of the real glory of the building.
The vast hotel, with its five hundred
rooms, and the large store-rooms, all
• add to the greatness and wonder of it
all. Chicago itself has yet no idea of
the reason for pride it has in this build
ing. The genius and daring of its
builders have given in this enterprise
the crown to all of Chicago's greatness.
It will stand for hundreds of years,
still a marvel. It will become the his
toric hall of America, for in it is sure
to be held the most famous of all
Anierican gatherings hereafter.
She Painted ller Lips.
A very funny incident happened at
a reception where a bright woman, I
who was out for the first time after a
long illness, was the victim, .lust be- I
fore she left home some one said that I
she had better put some coloi on her !
lips, as they looked perfectly blue. A
serpent iu the shape of a charming
girl offered her mixture—one of car
mine and glycerine—which, if any is
to be used, is most desirable; and slio
carefully painted the invalid's mouth,
putting the most color in the center,
to give it the desired rosebud effect, j
The newly painted was warned that
she could eat or drink anything cold,
but of auything hot she was to beware.
Bemembering this, she declined going
into the supper-room, and was the
center of a group of men, and having
the largest kind of a time, when an
imp of darkness in the form of a foot
man came along with a tray 011 which
were cups of coffee and glasses of
punch. Without a thought the layde
fnire took a cup of the coffee; she
sipped it slowly, and then, horror of
horrors, made bad worse by wiping her !
mouth 011 a tiny napkin which had
been given her. She saw surprise on
the faces of some of the men. One
glance at the damask in her hand told
her what was the natter, and with
j providential presence of mini Jhe put
| it up to her lips again, leaned 011 the
| man nearest to her, whispered in
I muffled tones that she was ill and
must go home. Out of the drawing
room, she quickly got 011 her wraps,
and when she was helped to her car
riage the man who had been her stand
by could not resist telling her that he
was sure she must be ill, because her
I lips had grown so pale. However,
the men were good fellows, and they
I never told of her, but she swore by
j every one of the Buddhist gods and
all of the Chinese devils that she'd
submit to green lips before she'd get
into such a tix again.
Letter - Carriers' Civil-Service Exam
ination*
We understand that letter-carriers
will hereafter have to pass a civil-ser
vice examination in order to get their
appointments. We suppose that some
of the questions will read as follows:
1. Have you corns? If so, state how
many and where situated. 2. How
would you approach an unfriendly dog ?
3. Do you enjoy walking?
IN a new treatise 011 manures, Mr.
I A. B. Griffiths states that the process
of converting iron into Bessemer steel
results in the elimination of a basic
slag, containing from I t to 20 per cent,
of phosphoric acid. Deduced to an
impalpable powder, this slag is a valu
able plant food; and as manure, the
850,000 tons of the slagobtaincd yearly
in England should produce at' least
4,000,000 tons of hay, or sufficient for
feeding 750,000 head of cattle.
THE fashion of this world passeth
away, and it is not the outward scene
but our learning iu it that is to last for
ever.
SAMUEL KAUFFMAN, a York County
tobacco grower, has some leaves over
live feet long.
IF grown men only knew as much
as their mothers think they know
when they are babies the world would
have no further use for cyclopedias.
A WOMAN'S THOUGHTS ON MAN.
"®cky Sharp" Type of the Women
that Moii Admire.
FROM the time
•when the small
maiden of five
discovers the frail
sawdust composi-
I KVfl'A thm of her cher-
A |A m ished doll, down
to the days of the
•*7 \l deceived and dis
#ll' 1 1 appointed wife's
I B bitter awaken
ing, women learn
—to see and keep
silence. The dis
illusioned little girl, after a few sobs
takes the doll back to her affections'
lets pity supply the place of lost faith
and reverence, and ends by loving it
all the more. And so. at a later date,
does the true womanly heart master
the keen womanly intellect. Woman
must love, or die, spiritually. Un
doubtedly this necessity plays an im
portant part in the fervid devotion she
is wont to exhibit in religious matters.
It is this fact, and not that she is by
nature bigoted or superstitious, that
explains her ofttimes misguided zeal. |
She is driven to bay, in the disap-
pointment that life usually holds for
her, with her glowing and glorious
ideals. Her instinct to look upward
and love is merged in religious devo
tion. In her persistent will to adore
she even can welcome and warm a cold
abstraction at her heart's fires. Too
often it ends in the putting out oi
those gentle, kindly flames, leaving
only a comfortless creed in the ashes of
a consumed love and life.
The poets, the heaven-born ones, sel
dom say much against women. Byron,
the gloomy and satirical, says:
Man, to man bo oft unjust, is always so to
But how can this be otherwise, since
justice demands a certain amount of
comprehension? And, as a'rule, men
understand women so imperfectly that
they can only find us thoroughly fas
cinating and agreeable as companions,
after they have destroyed our faith in
them. Becky Sharp was entertain
ing, blithesome, and entirely untram
meled by that earnestness which makes
the face grave, the lips tremulous.
She had nicely weighed the worth of
men's approval, and in her eyes it pos
sessed just its worldly value, not a
grain more nor less. The majority of
men secretly admire the Becky Sharp
type of woman, although they may not
wish to express this openly.
Keen and fine sensibilities to a great
extent retard that flow of sparkling
repartee, that careless intellectual
poise, which men find so charming in
women. Deep, earnest feelings also
pale the cheek and make the features
worn and angular, though they may at
times light up the eyes with fine spirit
ual beauty. How many women later
in life look back at days of passionate
grief over fallen idols with a sigh and
a smile at the folly of having wasted
so much strong feeling over such com
monplace characters.
"Oh, poor hearts of poets, eager for
the infinite in love, will you never be
understood?" And, oh, poor hearts of 1
women, we echo, and add, you never
will be understood. But take this les
son from the pages of history: to love I
much and to neglect your personal I
appearance is a pretty sure way to not
bo loved. Says Owen Meredith:
"Alan Poor I.ucillo, in those weak days of yoro,
Had neglected herself, never heeding nor think
ing,
While the blossom and bloom of hor beauty
were shrinking,
That sorrow can beautify only the heart,
Not the face, of a woman ; and can but impart,
Its endearment to one that has suflored."
And a pretty, lace-trimmed morning
robe of crimson cashmere, if crimson !
is becoming to one's complexion, will 1
"impart" something of its warmth oi |
tone to the admiration of lover or hus- I
hand, where brown calico, and a ten- !
der, true little heart will not have I
much effect.— Barbara Thome, in
Chicago Ledger.
BATTLEFIEI) JUNK.
Virginia Farmers Finding It a Source of
Considerable Revenue.
A quarter of a century has elapsed
since the war, yet many of the farmers
of Virginia are still realizing from
Yankee lead and brass quite a revenue,
says an Alexandria paper. It is the
children of these farmers living near
est the great hattleficdds that bring to
light most of the buried relics of the
cruel past. Their tiny fingers, some
times in play, again with the hope ol
adding to the family coffer, unearth
pounds of lead.
In strolling through this historical
town the writer came across a veritable
old curiosity shop down by the wharf.
It is kept by an old junk-dealer, who,
yielding to my desire for a glimpse at
the latest curiosity, brought to light a
big box which had just arrived from
the country that morning. There, in
reckless confusion, were bullets, mus
ket balls, old pieces of brass, epaulets,
sword hilts, buckles and buttons, all
battered and bruised, and corroded by
the earth in which they had been bur
ied for so many years. This lx>x, the
dealer said, would weigh about 150
pounds, and was but one of many that
he was constantly receiving.
From the midst of the debris a but
ton was fished out upon which was
inscribed the arms of Vermont (Free
dom and Unity), showing that, it had
belonged to some member of the first
militia that was mustered into service,
as the troops were afterward uniformed
by the United States. These war relics
come from the battlefields of Manassas,
Culpeper, Fredericksburg, J and the
Valley of Virginia, and are sold simply
for their value in old lead and brass.
Occasionally an invoice of shells ar
rives, which throws the down-town
inhabitants into a state of consterna
tion. Not so long ago quite a batch
of these wicked-looking things were
hustled out of town by command of
the Mayor.
If the farmers were wise they would
preserve the most interesting of these
mementos, for there will no doubt
come a time when even the most insig
nificant will have its value.
Spoilt HIICOUS i OlllhllNtloim
From all the principles of chemistry
Jpontnneous combustion is a possible,
and, hi fact, a frequent phenomenon.
Prof, Wm. P. Tonry, the chemist, says
the flame in such cases invariably arise
from a combustion of oxygen with some
material favorable to producing heat.
Wherever there is turpentine there is
always danger of spontaneous combus
tion. If the substance he poured on
rags, especially when they are soaked
with grease, fire is likely to result.
Furniture establishments and all place*
where oils and turpentine are kept are
especially liable to visitations from fires
of inexplicable origin.
Hay, when moist and packed tightly,
ferments by a natural process and ab
sorbs oxygen so freely as to produce
name in many instance. Suipiiunc
acid, if allowed to come in contact with
bagging at fertilizer factories, is also a
source of great danger. The same
acid, if mixed with water, produces in
tense heat.
A common source of unexpected com
bustion is the gas which escapes from
a jet which lias boon carelessly left
open. Gas and common air produce
an explosive compound which can be
touched off like gunpowder bv a tiny
flame.
Prof. Tonry says it is very difficult
to prevent combustion which arises .
from natural combinations, although
thorough ventilation and cleanliness in
private houses and business establish
ments will go a long way toward reduc
ing the danger. The phenomenon is
common to all seasons, although a tem
perature of 70 or 80 degrees, which is
high enough for fermentation, is most
favorable to it.
An accumulation of inflammable ma
terials is always to l>e avoided. It was
once believed that human bodies, espe
cially those of inebriates, were liable to
take fire and be consumed spontane
ously, but the theory finds but little
acceptance in these dava.— BalLinore
Sun.
He Saw the Governor.
The train was within twenty miles
of Jefferson City when he 'turned
around in his seat and asked: "S'pose
the Guvnerwill be in Jefferson City?"
"I guess so."
"S'pose I kin git to see liirn? Think
Mike Fanning'll let me in?"
"I presume so."
"Well, I want to see him powerful
bad."
"Anything wrong?"
"Well, I calkerlate there is. My son
Bill is in jail."
"That's bad. What for?"
"Fur shootin' at a skule - teacher
who's bin and got a corner on all the
cider in our county, and is lioldin' on
fur a rise."
"And what do you want of the Gov
ernor ?"
"I want Bill pardoned out, in course;
but I'm kinder flustrated about how to
approach Guvner Francis. If he's
down on corners and likes cider and
carries a revolver strapped to him, I'm
all right; hut if he's sweet on edeca
shun, down on pistols, and don't keer
a cent for apple-juice when he kin git
lager, then Bill can prepare to roost
behind them bars lor the next three
yeers."
He saw the Governor. Bill will
continue to roost.— St. Louia Maga
zine.
VTTii Tse Hen-pecked.
The hour was growing late; the pas
sengers in the sleeper had all gone to
bed. A porter approached "lower 0,"
and, jerking the curtains apart,
mumbled something. "What's the
matter?" demanded a rather old-look
ing man, getting out and following the
porter, who had stepped back a few
paces.
"I sav, sail, that I am sorry to tell
you, hut you'll have to chaise cars."
"What for?" the old fellow thun
dered.
"You want to go to St. Louis, don't
you ?"
"Yes."
"Well, hut this sleeper goes to Kan
sas City."
"Why in thunder didn't you tell me
so, hah?"
"I didn't know myself till just now."
"Why didn't the conductor tellme?"
he roared.
"I don't know, sail."
"Where is your pumpkin-headed
conductor ?"
"Back in the smoking compart
ment."
The old mnu went into the smoking
compartment and thus addressed the
conductor:
"Didn't you know I wanted to go to
St. Louis?"
"Not until I happened to look at
your ticket just now."
"And now I've got to change cars at
the next station ?"
"Y'es, If you want to go to St.
Louis."
"This is an infernal outrage. Listen :
For six years I have been courting the
AVidow Hennipin. Sometimes my chan
ces would be up and sometimes they
would he down. It rocked along this'
way till last week and then I married
her, and now we are on our wedding
tour. Look here, my dear sir, for the
love of humanity please let this car go
on to St. Louis, for it won't do to pull
my wife out of bed at this time of night
and make her change cars. She'll
swear 1 didn't have sense enough to
know where I wanted to go and all
through life she'll hold me down. My
dear sir, if you believe in the liberty of
man, let this car go to St. Lous; don't
help to hen-peck mo. If you don't
come to my aid that woman will always
believe that I am weak—she never will
have any more confidence in me—will
hold me down and ride over mo, 1 tell
you."
"We have about reached*your sta
tion. Hurry up."
"But can't you help me?"
"I cannot."
"Then I am lost—lost and hen
pecked for the second time in life."—
Arkansaw Traveler.
msses ior Two.
"I want a pass for myself and wife
to Chicago," proclaimed a cattle-ship
per as lie entered a freight office in
this city last evening.
"How many cars of stock?"
"Four."
"Humph! that entitles von to passes
for two persons. But they have to
ride in the caboose of the stock-train
and get out and feed and water the
animals."
"Can't take no other train?"
"Not any other. That'y why passes
are given to shippers—so they can
look after stock."
"Well," said the shipper with a sigh,
"you can make 'em out. Mirandy 1
won't be much stuck on the caboose,
but it's better than paying fare, and I
guess I'll rustle around the steers
alone. But you bet I don't take her
around Chicago when I get there.
She's got to stay in the depot while I
take in the sights."— Omaha World-
Herald.
The Way Papa Opened the Door.
A friend of mine was visiting in the
family of a well-known Maine man
not long ago. A lovely flaxeu-haired
child of (> years, the pet, of the family,
attempted to open a door, which stuck.
She pulled and pulled, but could not
move it. ...
"D nit J they were astonished
to hear her say, as she gave a supremo
tug and the door yielded.
"Why, what do you mean, Maud?"
exclaimed the horrified mamma.
"That's the way papa opens it,"
said Maud, innocently. Lewistvn
Journal. .