AT EVENING Pi: ACE SHALL]
COME.
Because my sun of life basset
Why yet the day is young.
Why burden others with ray griefs
With oft-complaining tongue?
Why idle stand and fret ?
The world is full of woe and pain,
And 1 urn only one—
An utom in the total vast,
And I, what have 1 done
To merit more of gain?
Then let the lips be dumb;
Hushed the heart-broken cry.
Fill all the hours with busy toil,
And let the days slip by;
At evening peg".' shall come.
—[Maude Meredith.
STORY OF A SEP ARATION.
UY G. G. O. SOUTITMAYDE.
"It is 110 use; I must find a pretty
bloude woman, and that at once," said I
Jack, one dismal February morning as |
we sat working in our studio.
He was at work upon a summer scene
wherein two girls, essentially modern in
dress and style, sat idly chatting in the
shade of a superb oak-tree, while the j
sunlight fell in irregular blotches of i
golden light through the canopy of j
waxen leaves upon hair and dress—sun-1
light so real aud beautiful as to make |
one's heart ache with longing for just!
such days, as lie listened to the steady
rat-a-tat-tat of the half sleet, half rain,
so steadily falling upon the dcuble sky
light.
One figure was already completed, A
bright, brown-haired, brown-eyed wom
an, the pose of whoso head, the very
fold of whose dress, told of life and ani
mation. If tho.-e painted lips could only
open, one felt sure the dismal day would
be forgotten in the stream of gay and
witty words which would rush forth, so
naturally had Jack portrayed her. Hut
then. Jack was in love with the original,
and had worked weeks and weeks,
changing a bit here and a bit there, until
not one liuc was needed to make it
perfect.
And the other figure was a weird sight
indeed; a fair, slight womun, languidly
lying back on a wicker chair, her golden
hair catching and reflecting the sunlight
in a bla/.e of glory; but there the beauty
ceased, fof in the place of her face was
but the suggestion of features, and even
those suggested a ghost-woman more
than flesh ami blood. Every detail of
the soft white dress was worked up to
perfection. The tip of the little high
heeled slipper peeping beneath the dress,
the lilv-like hands lying so restfully
among the flulTy folds of the draperies
in her lap; the fan which has slipped
from those hands to the ground, all !
standing out in perfect completeness j
from the canvas, while above it stared i
that ghastly face -for Jack's model was
ill. and without her he could go uo !
further.
U I must have a model, and cannot wait '
for Louise," continued Jack, with a j
groan, "and I suppose I shall be disgust- I
ed enough before I can find one that will j
do."
But groaning wouldn't help it, and wc I
set about getting a model, and we liad
some fun out of it after all. Such re
markable people called in the character
of a pretty blonde. Women large and
women small; women tall and women
short: women fat and women lean; wo
men old and women young; women rich
and women poor; women dark and wo
men light; women who came for bread |
and women who came for larks; but!
never, oh, never, a pretty blonde I At |
last, when we had decided we must wait
for Louise, there came a little woman—
such a little woman—and she was, in
deed, the pretty blonde. Not only
pretty either, for so modest, so sweet, so
pure was she, that each morning she
walked into our dingy rooms it seemed
as if wc were blessed by the presence of
an angel.
She sat for the vacant face, and came
regularly to the studio for many days.
There she was each day, hours and
hours; so still, so fair, so silent that wc
could almost believe her a picture ;
never speaking unless spoken to, and
then only answering a word or two in
that silvery voice so peculiarly her cwu.
We were devoured by curiosity as to
whom she was and why she came. So
evidently a lady, so richly and yet so
simply dressed, so free from any spirit or
desire to flirt—what motive had she in
coming there to sit in silence day after
day?
When Jack handed her her money on
the lirst day she colored almost purple in
her confusion, but took the bills and
quietly put them in her purse—such an
expensive, silver-mounted purse, I no
ticed; but, oh! so very empty. She gave
us no address, and never told us any
thing of herself, so wc could only pos
sess our souls in patience; but I observed
that Jack grew very sober over his work,
and thought constantly about this Ada,
as she told us to call her, when he was
not at work.
One fine morning who should come
into the studio but Miss Ilalliday, the
original of the other girl iu the picture,
and her mother. Then trouble com
menced, for Jack's very evident desire to
shield Miss Ada from any remarks that
might hurt her, to make her feel that he
considered her in the light of a lady and
a friend, did not please Miss Ilalliday,
who, of course, noticed it at once. Then
Jack, poor, stupid Jack, relying upon
Miss Halliday's faith in his entire love
for her, made mutters worse by calling
her one side, and, after pointing out
Ada's beauty and sweetness, asking her
to invite Ada to her lioinc to cheer her
up a bit. Invite an unknown girl with
nothing but her beauty to recommend
her, particularly when the man she was
engaged to was half in love with the
unknown girl already? Well, no; she
begged to be excused. Besides, why
hadn t he spoken of this girl before dur
ing the days she had been sitting for
him? Oh, no—and she "thought, mam
ma, it was time they left in order to be
ut home for luncheon. Good mnruin<r v
ami they were gone. Poor Jack!
But lie went back to his work and
painted steadily on, while Ada sat think
lug with a little troubled pucker in her
forehead. In a few davsthe picture was
done and the little lady left the studio.
She would give no address, but would
call again, some day, sin- said, and see if
we bad any more use for her.
W ceks passed, but we never Raw or
heard a word from her, and Jack, what
with his troubles with his sweetheart
and his troubles about Ada, was wretch
edly unhappy. Honest Jack could not
deceive, and every thought lie gave the
little model widened the breach between
him aud his love.
Lent was over. The great city had
again put on its robe of social splendor,
and all the belles ami beaux of the upper
ten were rushing about in the lust mad
whirl of the season. Shortly all the
world would emigrate to Europe, or
Lenox, or Newport, and before they left
they must celebrate their freedom from
Lenteu restrictions. With the reopen
ing of the season had come a piece of
news that startled New Yorkers. Miss
llalliday had broken her engagement to
the artist. Jack Masterson, and was en
gaged to Mr. Alfred Stirling. Yet in
the Academy hung Jack Masterson's pic
ture—his best effort, the critics said—
and its fascination for his frieuds lay in
the sparkling eyes and laughing face of
Clara llalliday; but unprejudiced ob
servers said its beauty lay in the calm,
sweet face of the other figure. And
then it began to be whispered about that
he had fallen in love with the blonde girl
in the picture while he was painting her,
you know, aud that was why Miss llalli
day broke the engagement.
Hut neither Miss llalliday nor Jack ever
denied or affirmed these rumors,and they
soon died out; for the world had a more
important subject to discuss, which was
—Who is Mr. Alfred Stirling ? Nobody
, seemed to know. He appeared at a tea
I given by Mrs. Van Buren just before
Lent, and although Mrs. Van Burcn
j could not remember him, he was so very
| handsome and charming she was very
j glad to think that as lie said, he had met
j her at Bar Harhor two years ago, before
he went abroad, and coming to call upon
. j her that afternoon, in accordance to her
[I kind invitation of the Bar Harbor suin
, mer, he found the reception in progress,
! j and had presumed to make his call just
| the same. All this she learned when he
called some evenings later, and it wis
with positive delight she hailed the ad-
I vent of a 44 new young man " so desirable
i in every respect as he seemed to be. Soon
his various charms won him a place in the :
regard of all her circle, and he became a !
veritable lion. He sang so remarkably j
well in a high, tenor voice; he talked so i
fluently upon all matters of general in- 1
tcrest; he recited poems of love and valor j
so sweetly; he played dance music s<>
fascinatingly, or danced so beautifully j
himself, that all the girls lost their hearts
to him; while the staid fathers melted
before his choice dinners, given unosten- 1
tatiously in his sumptuous apartments,
and the mothers succumbed without a
murmur before his conservative religious
views and faithful attendance at Lenten
services.
And now, in a few short weeks, he had
won the hand, if not the heart, of the
beauty and belle of the season —the
wealthy Miss llalliday. And so, aloud
rose the cry from the mouths of less suc
cessful rivals, 44 Who is Mr. Alfred Stir
ling?"
But all this mattered not to Miss llalli
day, or to Mr. Stirling's numerous friends,
and all went gayly as a marriage bell
through the summer season, every one !
envying both lover aud maid in their!
apparent happiness.
In the fall the society papers an- j
' nouueed that a new firm of brokers
would be announced upon the Exchange, j
I i. c., Bradford A Stirling, and that Mr. |
1 Stirling would probably be married early !
i in January.
And Jack? Well, Jack worked away
like a Trojan, holding his head high and j
going about the same as ever; meeting
j iiis old love and her fiance constantly,
I and bearing very friendly relations with |
I both. Whatever he suffered—and he
did suffer—he never discussed it, even j
with me, his chum and brother artist, j
1 We dined with Mr. Stirling at his club
j and in his rooms, and both voted him a !
mighty fine fellow, though I think both
of us had an inexplicable feeling—ap
parently unfounded—that he was not
just frank. I know I did. However, j
we never mentioned it, because, I sup- I
pose, we were ashamed to put a ground- i
less suspicion into words.
And the litttle model? She never ap-j
peared again at the studio. Jack wanted
I her for a picture, aud advertised as i
; guardedly as he could, but to no end. j
1 Finally we gave it up aud decided to
| stop worrying about her.
One morning, late in November, Jack |
and I went down to Stirling's office to
see him about some club matters. Mr.
Bradford was in the office and Stirling,
lie said, was due in a few moments, lie •
had been in Boston a day or two, and
was coming over by Fall River last j
night, and ought to be here now, but of j
course the boat was liable to be late this |
season. So wc sat and chatted while we
waited.
Suddenly the door opened, and in
walked a little woman. "Ada, by
heavens!" I heard Jack whisper; and
surely it was she, but Ada so thin, so
pale, so sad, it made my heart bleed.
Without noticiug Jack or me,she walked
up to Bradford and said :
"This is Mr. Bradford?"
"Yes."
41 Is Mr. Stirling in ?"
"No, madam," said Bradford.
"Where is he? Oh, where is he?" said
Ada with a trembling voice; "he ought
to he here. It is late—see, it is eleven
o'clock and he is not here. Oh, Mr.
Bradford! I am his wife, and I have
come to find him. I have not seen him
for months, but I know some ill has be
fallen him. Last night I dreamed—"
Here the door opened and in walked
Stirling, but Stirling greatly changed;—
so old and haggard that we scarcely
knew him. The moment he opened the
door and saw the woman, he said:
" Ada," and with a cry of "Alfred! Al
fred !" she flew across the room and fell
sobbing upon his breast.
And this is the story we gathered from
the incoherent remarks of these two peo
ple so strangely thrown into our lives.
Two years ago, Alfred Stirling, who
was a Bostonian, went up into u little
New Hampshire town to spend the sum
mer, and there met Ada, who was teach
ing school. Her beauty and innocence
won his heart, and after a very short
courtship they were quietly married.
But his mother, a proud old Puritan,
disproved of the match, and, before she
ever saw Ada, took a violent dislike to ]
her. No amount of kindness or attention
which the girl might bestow upon Ma
dam Stirling could win her heart, and 1
she persisted in her belief that Ada had
married Alfred for money. Poor little
unworldly Ada I She had never given
the matter a thought. Finally, at the
end of eighteen unhappy months, it be
came so unpleasant for her that slieasked
Alfred to take her to a home of their
own ( for they were living with Madam
Stirling), where they could be happy to
gether. This Alfred would not hear of
because he was an only son, and both of
them lost their tempers in the discus
sion. Bitter words were said, and Al
fred bounced out of the house, at last,
without saying good-bye.
That afternoon he was suddenly called
to New \ ork. Sending a lino to his
mother, asking her to be kind to Ada
1 until his return, and a line to Ada beg
ging her pardon for his loss of temper
and assuring her of his love and sorrow,
he rushed off on the next train.
But Ada never received her letter. She
was out when the boy came, and Madam
Stirling having read her own missive
burned Ada's, and simply told her that
Alfred had sent.word that he had gone
to New York. Of course it was the same
old story. Ada, too proud to write under
the circumstances, did not ; and Alfred.
• hearing nothing in response to his alTec
b tionate appeal, in his quick, impetuous
i way, supposed that Ada had ceased to
love him, aud, without a word, sailed for
Europe. And foolish Ada, making cou
i fusion worse confounded, left the home
> of which she believed herself an unwel
come member, to seek her fortune in a
i pitiless world.
It was after battling unsuccessfully
- many months, that she bethought her
i self of using her beauty as a means of
' livelihood until she could get other
work and came to us. She noted Miss
Halliday's manner upon the day of her
visit to the studio, and so, after that pic
ture was finished, never returned for fur
ther employment lest she might make
trouble between Miss llalliday and Jack.
Since that time she had been teaching
school in a small village out of New York,
■ and so had dragged out a cheerless exist
ence. From the papers she had learned
of Stirling's business venture, but never
for one moment gave credence to the
marriage rumor.
And last night, while sleeping, she
had seen Alfred reading a paper some
where (she could not make out where),
in front of a large mirror,, and in her
dream was convinced that some horrible
fate overhung him, but again could not
make out what. She tried to call liim
but was voiceless. She tried to go to
him, but was powerless. Then she fell
upon her knees and prayed to heaven to
save him—prayed as she never prayed
before—and while praying a great black
cloud shut him from her sight, and she
awoke. The terror of her dream was up
on her, and, arising, she started for New
I York, to find him if alive—to be by his
! side if dead. 44 And that, Alfred, is why
! I forgot my pride, and left my home at
1 midnight to come here," she said, iucon
| elusion.
And Alfred's story was equally one of
hasty judgment and consequent suffer
ing. The ocean voyage cooled his anger,
aud he immediately returned by the next
steamer and hastened to his wife. She was
gone—had been gone for days, they said;
and no one had tried to find her. Dis
tracted, lie sought her high aud low;
advertised everywhere and traveled for
weeks ; but in vain. She was surely
dead, they said, and in despair he left
his mother and his home and settled in
New York to forget, if possible, in its
noisy whirl, his irreparable loss. When
he called on Mrs. Van Buren he had not
the heart to recall to her mind his lovely
dead wife, with whom he had been so
ovcrpoweri; gly in love at Bar Harbor,
and seeing Mrs. Van Burcn had forgotten
all the details, he thought it best to let
her believe him a bachelor, and so spare
himself needless paiu. That accounted
' for his universal reticence concerning his
I personal history, and we, that is Jack
! and I, felt the twinge of a guilty, sus
| picious conscience. When he met Miss
; llalliday, her gayety and cordial nature
soothed his aching heart, and so he
drifted into an engagement, though he
was troubled occasionally by the convic
! tion that Ada was not dead. But why,
j if alive, had she not answered his loving
! appeals to lier in the advertisements?
I And why could he not find her? No;
j she must be dead. So matters drifted
j on.
I But about one week ago he came for his
first visit to our studio, and there saw,
for tlic first time, Jack's Academy picture,
jlu it lie recognized Ada (though he
i never said a word), and he knew she
must be alive if Jack had painted her
face within a few months. Off lie flew
to Boston, there to renew his search.
Coining home last night by boat, he
could not sleep for thinking of her, for j
his old love was upon him stronger than
ever with the first breath of hope. To
see her again! To tell her of his slmmc
and penitence! Ah heaven! would they
never reach New York ? Becoming con
scious that his restless pacing was attrac
ting attention, lie wandered about mid
night into the engine room and sat down
in front of the mirror there to read his
paper; but lie could not read. He could
only see her face. Suddenly lie heard
her call—heard her as plainly as if she
were at his side : "Alfred,
Alfred, come away with me!" It
was so terribly real that he jumped to
his feet and started for the cabin.
Hardly had he left his cliair when, with
a terrible roar and crash, the walking
beam, loosened by some break in the j
machinery, shot down from its plnco,
and with its mighty weight plunged
through chair, and mirror, and floor, j
leaving but a yawning cavern where '
they had been. That was the direful j
fate which had threatened him, and j
Ada's prayer was answered, for heaven
had spared him to her to shelter and I
protect lier in the years to come.
What called this to my mind to-day,
was the dinner 1 attended at Mr. ami j
Mrs. Alfred Stirling's last night, where
Mr. and Mrs. Jack Mastcrson were the I
honored guests. As 1 watched my fair- |
haired hostess, I thought of her sad days j
in the studio; and a prayer for her future
happiness rose to my lips.—[Frank Les
lie's.
Greyhounds for Wolves.
It is officially estimated that no fewer
than 170,000 wolves are roaming at large
in Russia, and that the inhabitants of
the Vologda last year killed no fewer
than 40,000, and of the Casan district
21,000. In the Canadian Northwest
there are also wolves, but these are not,
like the European ones, of a very danger
ous character. The coyotes, are, how
ever, at times, very troublesome on the
plains, especially to Hocks of sheep.
Some time ago Sir John Lister-lvaye im
ported a number of Belgian and French
wolfhounds and Scotch deerhounds for
the purpose of j hunting down these co
yotes, while other breeds of dogs have
also been tried with fair success. By
means of these the number of coyotes
has been much reduced, as many as sev
enteen hiving been brought down in a
single day on the Cochrane ranch. '1 lie
hounds are, however, scarcely fast
enough, and with a view to giving thein
a greater turn of speed Mr. Dan Gordon,
the veterinary surgeon of Ottawa, Cana
da, has just imported two of the fastest
and best-bred greyhounds ever shipped
from England—namely: Justinian, by
Cupi Bono, out of Stylish Lady, and
Jetsam, by Royal Stag, out of Castaway.
—[London Times.
Mortar Balls.
There is no liod-carrying in Japan,
writes a correspondent from Tokio. The
natives have a method of transporting
mortar which makes it seem more like
play than work—to an on-looker.
Three men were repairing the roof of
a one-story building the other day by
resetting the heavy black tiles in mortar.
The mortar was mixed in a pile on the
street. One man made this up into balls
of about six pounds' weight, which lie
tossed up to a man who stood on a ladder
midway between the roof and the
ground. This man deftly caught the
ball, and tossed it up to the man who
stood on the roof. This was playing
ball to good purpose.
An nrtosian well in Dalian, Texan, yields
I,UO(i,OUO gullons of drinking water daily.
THE JOKER'S BUDGET.
JESTS AND YARNS BY FUNNY
MEN OF THE PRESS.
The Terrors of Bankruptcy —Heavy
Bread—Awfully Lonesome -Habit
—He Got a Petition, etc., etc.
TIIETERRORS OF BANKRUPTCY.
First Merchant—Met Snodgrass last
last evening entering Delmonico's. He (
was dressed in the height of fashion,and
a large aud juicy cigar was between his
lips.
Second Merchant—Snodgrass? Oh,
yes; he failed two months ago, and is
trying to settle at ten cents. —[Jewelers'
Circular.
HEAVY BREAD.
Mr. Charley Younghusband—Why,
what's the matter?
Mrs. Younghusband (in deep an
guish)—l gave—a —a—tramp—a p—p
—piece of my fresh home made bread
and—and—he gave it to Rover.
Mr. Charley Younghusband (consoling
ly)— Well, I wouldn't cry about a little
thing like that.
Mrs. Younghusband—You don't u—
u—understand. I'm crying about Rov
er —he is dead —boo —lioo—hoo!—[Life.
AWFULLY LONESOME.
The man who promptly pays his bills
Is lonesome;
Who never felt the poor man's chills
Is lonesome;
Who can always meet his debts,
And who never, never bets,
Who flirts not with the girls—the pets,
Is lonesome, awfully lonesome.
—J Boston Herald.
HABIT.
Groughtcr—l want to get some socks .
with holes in them.
Salesman—What's the idea?
Groughter—l've been a bachelor for
forty years, and they are the only kind
I can wear.—[Clothier and Furnisher.
IIE GOT A PENSION.
Commissioner—Were you wounded in
the war ?
Pension Seeker—Yes, sir.
Commissioner —Where ?
Pension Seeker—ln my vanity. I
didn't get a promotion I expected.
A TRUE BILL.
Jones—l don't think you ought to go
around saying that Robinson is the big
gest coward alive.
Brown—Why, he shows in every way
he's afraid of me.
Jones—So ? Well, you're justifiable.
PLAYING AT STORE.
" Mamma," asked the next to the
i youngest girl, "Eddie and I arc going
to play grocery store. Won't you give
us something to start business with ?"
14 Here's my spool of thread and the
I button bag and—''
" Oh, we don't want them," inter
i rupted Eddie, "why don't you give us
pie or something so if trade is bad we
can cat up the stock and keep it from
going to waste?"
TURN ABOUT.
At a Scotch fair a farmer was trying :
! to engage a lad to assist on the farm, but j
would not finish the bargain until lie |
brought a character from the last place; '
so he said, "Run and get it and meet me
at the cross at four o'clock." The youth
was up to time, and the farmer said,
44 Well, have you got your character with
you?" i4 Na," replied the youth, "but
I've got yours, and I'm no comin' "
FICKLE PHYLLIS,
She thought it wrong for him to shoot
The birds along the coast,
But, while poor Strephon paid his suit,
She ordered quail on toast.
Mistress—What's the matter in there,
Mary?
Nurse— Sliure the children won't mind
me, mum.
"Well, why should they? I engaged
you to mind the children." —[Yonkers j
Statesman.
A MUSICAL POINTER.
[Mother (whispering)—My dear, our j
hostess wishes you to play.
Daughter Horrors, mother! You
know I never play before strangers. I
become so nervous and excited that my
fingers get all tangled up, and I make all
sorts of awful blunders.
Mother—Never mind, dear. Play
something from Wagner, and then the !
mistake won't be noticed.—[New York
Weekly.
AN ALIBI.
Sunday-school Superindent—Who led
the children of Israel into Canaan? Will
one of the smaller boys answer? [No
reply. ]
Superintendent (somewhat sternly)—
Can no one tell? Little boy on that seat
next to the aisle, who led the children of
Israel into Canaan?
Little Boy (badly frightened)—lt
wasn't me. I—l just moved yere last
week f'm Missoury.—[Chicago Tribune.
A LEGAL TILT.
Briefless (a young lawyer)— Well, I'll
be hanged!
Old Practitioner—l wouldn't be sur
prised—that is, if you defend yourself.—
[Epoch.
A GREAT INDUCEMENT.
Bobbie —When I get to be a man I'm
going to be a priutcr.
Papa—Why so?
Bobbie (smacking ids lips)—' Cause
Mr. Type, the printer up the way, says
they have always lota of "pi."—[St.
Paul Globe.
TWUEI
Fasset—What! wearing evening dress
this time of day! Why, it's only noon.
Cholly Cholmondelcy—Aw, but it is
six o'clock in London, donchcrknow.—
[Jewelers' Circular.
GUIDED AIUGIIT.
Father—l am very much afraid our
daughter will elope with that young ras
cal.
Mother—No danger. I reminded
her last evening that girls who eloped
got no wedding p eseuts, and I feel sure
my words sunk deep into her heart. —
[New York Weekly.
SIX CULPRITS.
One of the governors of a grammar
school complained to the head master
that on the previous evening lie had seen
one of the top-form boys flirting with a
young lady. The head master accord
ing spoke to the occupants of the said
form in severe terms on the impropriety
of such conduct, and wound up his ha
rangue by saying that out of consideration
for the parents he would not name the
culprit, but invited liim to come into his
private room at the close of the lesson.
That the governor's acutencss of observa
tion was considerably below the mark
was evident to the head master, when six
crestfallen top-form boys presented them
felves at the private interview.—[lluinor
istische Blatter.
RECKONED IIE COULD.
I Parent—Say, teacher, do ye reckon ye
! kin make ray boy smart?
| Teacher—Will, 1 reckon I kin, if this
birch rod of mine holds out.—[Epoch.
TIIE POOR, OVERWORKED BURGLAR.
j Ilanx—Who is that elegantly-dressed
man?
Cranx—That is Col. Booke, the great
! criminal lawyer. He makes SIO,OOO a
year out of Browny, the blacksmith bur
glar, alone.
"And#who is that poor chap with
him?"
"Why, that's Browny, himself." —
[Texas Sittings.
AN EXCUSABLE ERROR.
"Did you call mo a rich loafer?"
"No, sare. I vas not ackgwaiutcd
vith ze American tongue. I meant to
say you were a rich baker."
AN APPROPRIATE GREETING.
Dashaway—Let's go to dinner. What
do you say to a broiled lobster?
Cleverton—lf I met one I should
probably say, "Hello, stranger!"—[Mun
sey's Weekly.
A DIFFERENCE.
The years like endless currents flow
And bring a change to me,
At twenty-two she told me no—
'Twas yes at thirty-three.
LEFT AND RIGHT.
Bowles—My eyesight is affected,
doctor.
Optician—Let me see. You arc in a
natural state. Your sight has left the
left eye, but your right eye is all right.
LIGHT GENEROSITY.
"We are making a collection for wood
and fire for the poor this winter. Would
you kindly contribute?"
"Why, certainly. Here's a box of
matches."
MORE BUSINESS-LIKE.
Old boy—The grandest rule for human
conduct is simply this: "Do your duty."
Ncwmau—Oh, that's the old-fashion
ed style. Nowadays, the rule is, "Do
your neighbor."—[Light.
CERTAINLY.
Philosopher—What induces men to
marry ?
Cynic—The girls do.
NO SECOND FIDDLE.
Lovett —Miss Flirtetthas taken up the
violin; so I don't go there any more. i
Skipit—What's that got to do with it?
Lovett—She can scrape along with one
I bow now.
IIIS BENT.
! Parent—Do you think my son has any
particular bent?
Teacher—Oh, yes ; lots of them—bent
| pins.
FRAIL CRAFT.
| Friend—How did you happen to up
set?
Canoist—l sneezed.—[Good News.
NO ; LIKE A FISH.
"Oh, no; lie doesn't drink like a fish."
"Why, I've known him "
"That's all right. But fishes, you
know, drink by gills."—[Philadelphia
Times.
TIIE REASON FOR IT.
"That man," said the proprietor, "is as
rich as Crcesus, yet lie kicks like a mule
every time he pays his bill."
"Still, it's natural enough to kick that
way when he's well heeled, you know."
—[Philadelphia Times.
ALTERNATES.
I bought a suit ; then came the bill;
The sum I could not pay;
So then there came asuit-at-law—
I did not win the day.
Soon after came another bill
My lawyer sent—l owo it still.
—[Judge.
Successful Business Careers.
Mr. Huntington, the millionaire rail-
I way magnate, in speaking to a New York
reporter recently of his successful busi- j
| ness career, remarked: "When I was a
1 boy I worked in a store, and one of the
first rules I learned was that whenever I
saw a ten-penny nail on the floor it was
my duty to pick it up and take care of
it." Tradition tells a story of Stephen
Girard to much the same effect, except
that pin-picking seems to have been his
specialty.
Few young men have escaped having
some such thrifty moral pointed at them
at some period in their careers. Thou
sands of young men who have given the
fortune-making specific what they hon
estly believed to be a fair test, have con
cluded that in point of tangible results
of a legal-tenacr character it is a bald
sophistry; and when, on the other hand,
they note that the average SIO,OOO base
ball beauty was never known to demean
himself by picking up anything, and
would scarcely pick up a living if he
should have to undergo the exertion of
stooping for it, they are apt to drift into
a state of mild agnosticism as to the
economic value of nail-picking and pin
gleaning recipes.
Nevertheless, the pin stories bear use
ful lessons—but only at the point. The
mistake of most youths is in taking them
literally, instead of typically. They
look only at the spirit of acquisitiveness,
forgetting the higher lesson of attention
to detail, of caro in the small concerns of
life. With a few men that capacity for
detail is a gift. With all it may be more
or less cultivated. But whatever the
field of business activities, lie is more
certain to be a successful man who has
that faculty in its highest development.
—[Philadelphia Record.
A Pensioned Army Horse.
u I)o you know," said Corporal Moore,
of the Newport barracks, to the delegate,
" that there is a horse in the United
States Ariny on the retired list, drawing
a pension ? Well, it's a fact. The horse
belonged to Captain Kcogli, a near rela
tive of General Custer, and is the only
horse that escaped the massacre in which
that general was killed. His name is
Comanche, and he is stationed at Port
Riley, Kan., with the 7th Cavalry—
Custer's old regiment, llis pension is
sufficient to cover his transportation
wherever he goes and to t pay for his
forage. He is cared for by a man de
tailed for that duty, and who does noth
ing else. He is saddled, bridled and
equipped and let out for inspection, yet
no one dares sit in his saddle. He has
been much sought after by enterprising
showmen, but Undo Sam says no. He
will be kept as long as life lasts, and af
ter that will probably be prepared and
sent to the Smithsonian Institution at
Washington. When fjund Comanche
was many miles away from the scene of
the battle. He had seven wounds, and
was nearly exhausted from loss of blood."
—[Cincinnati Times-Star.
What is called nuthrocito coal in paying
quantities has been discovered in Mexico,
COURTSHIP IN JAPAN.
YOUTHS WHO PRESS THEIR
SUITS IN POETRY.
A.ll Love-Making- is Done Through
Mediators Babies Who Are En
gaged—Celebration of the Honey
moon.
Married life in Japan, writes Shotara
Dzawa in the New Orleans Times-Demo
ciat, is a most interesting subject for
American readers, because ot the many
peculiar customs and usages concerning
it. The common people, before entering
into a contract of marriage, usually are
engaged to each other by the consent of
their parents and the kelp of the media
tors, who also serve as witnesses and ad
visers. Usually the mediators are se
lected from the near relatives or friends
and they have no compensation. These
marriages are a very different kind from
what are known as brokerage marriages,
which are unlawful. The marriage age
is usually eighteen in the female and
twenty-one in the male.
Courtship is carried on in many differ
ent ways, but the most usual one is by
mediation. The duty of the mediators
is to investigate and inform one party in
regard to property, reputation and char
acter of the other. After this investiga
tion there is a meeting of the persons
intending to marry, and they arc intro
duced to each other. They may promise
to marry at this time, but before the
final consent is given each one must
investigate the other's character. If both
arc satisfied the marriage ceremony will
be performed by the help of the media
tors, and the names of the contracting
parties must be recorded in the official
register. This is considered as a civil
contract.
The above is a prevailing custom
among the common people, or middle
class; but there is one custom which is
a peculiar one in our country. When a
child is born the parent makes an en
gagement between it and a child of
some other family. This is usually
called a pure engagement, but of course
it is voidable when the child becomes an
adult. The origin of such an engage
ment between the parents is probably
found in the fact that the usage of our
country favors the family rather than
the individual life, and tlierofore an en
gagement is necessary in order to pre
serve family reputation and prosperity.
The custom also prevails among the
higher classes, but the introduction of
modern civilization is changing this.
The only defect of this custom is the
oppressiveness of the advice or consent
of the parent, and although it has a pow
erful and influential enforcement, it has
no legal power.
In comparison with this oppressive
way the manner of courtship—free
courtship—which prevaiis among the
Western nations is greatly admired by
the higher classes in Japan, but the mo
rality of our people seems to have been
corrupted by this introduction —such a
corruption as has often arisen among the
Western people or in China.
There is a story told of a fashionable
lady. She said: "I intend to marry an
ideal man, but it will probably take ten
years to find him."
A gentleman asked her: "What will
you do during the ten years?"
She replied: "I will get married to
somebody until the ideal man is found."
This is an example of the corruption
which was forcibly attacked by the
press. This attack resulted in a reform
ation of the social condition of the peo
ple, and at the present time the usual
form of courtship necessary is to gain
the consent of the parents and the ad
viser.
The employment of mediators is n
necessary one. If they are not employed
and the consent of the parents obtained
it would be considered an animal-like
marriage by our people. Therefore all
the people in Japan are obliged to follow
this method notwithstanding their rank
in society. The service of the middle
man is considered very honorable, and
the Japanese term for this is "Musu
bueno-kami," which means a god of
connection of the opposite sex.
Among the common people in a strict
sense, there is positively no courtship
between the parties themselves, and, on
account of such a custom, there are very
few bastards or illegitimate children.
Another form of courtship is by poetry,
which is found among the higher classes.
There are two kinds of this poetry,
"Shi" and "Uta." The gentleman
sends poems to the lady, and she replies
in poetry. The following is a celebrated
answer, with its translation :
" Quc-sliiu dati echi no murne,
Konya kimiga tamcmi kirnku.
Hana-no sin-e o shirano-to hosseba.
San-ko tsuki-o funde kitarc." •
The translation is:
"The first plum blossom of the isles of
Queshiu,
This night shall ope, my Lord, for you.
Should you long to know all the charms
of this flower,
Come singing to the moon at the hour of
midnight."
An allusion to the moon or flowers al
ways stands for the word love. The fol
lowing is a fine conceit attributed to a
gay young lady:
"Parted and from thee,
I gaze upon the heavenly vault.
How delightful were it to me,
Could but the moon turn to a mirror."
For modern popular use read the fol
lowing from the "llauta," known as the
love song:
"My desires are like to the white suow
on Fugi
(The most celebrated of the high moun
tains in the three provinces,)
Which ever accumulates and never melts,
Well, though I gain or gain not an evil
repute,
I shall be proud that such a report
spreads abroad.
The opinion is held among men that our
love is inexplicable
What then '( I have oven come to think
of giving myself to him."
Here is a line love conceit:
" Though the sparrow can find a resting
place 011 the slender spray of the
bamboo,
Alas! lean find no resting place near
thee."
Among the lower classes flirting is
practiced by the use of the fan or the
handkerchief, or with a wave of the right
hand, with palms downward, or by the
fair charmer waving her long sleeves.
Instead of winking, they convey the
same meaning by twitching the left cor
ner of the mouth or rolling the eyeballs
to the right or left. Jealousy is ex
pressed by erecting the two forefingers
111 allusion to the monster.
The courtship of the lower class of
young men and women is on llanatni, or
picnic day, and on that day one can
hear whispering behind the trees or
flowers, but no kissing or shaking of I
hands. If they did such a thing they
would be disregarded or excluded from
society as following animal-like conduct.
The above is an extrerno exception i
among a particular class. Common pco
pie could not do such a thing; they are
always endeavoring to preserve their
reputation on account of their social
standing.
Our marriage ceremony is distin
guished from that of other nations. The
celebration of a marriage ceremony is re
quired not by law, but by society. There
are several forms, but usually the first
step is "yuino," or the exchange of
presents at the time of the espousal, cus
tomarily fish, belt, fau, money, etc.,
which consists of seven articles, as the
number of seven is considered a fortunate
one among all classes. After the ex
change of presents of "yuino," a few
Jays are suffered to elapse and then is
celebrated the marriage ceremony. This
is not to be performed in the chuich,
but takes place iu the house, as the peo
ple think the church is a place for funer
als aud not for merry-making. The ex
pense of the ceremony varies according
to the social standing of the parties. At
the present time the ceremony is to be
performed by the minister or public no
tary aud attended by the relatives,
friends and large numbers of other peo
ple.
After the ceremony refreshments are
served, at which time an oath is taken
by the betrothed couple before the
mediators, such an oath being called
"san-san-kudo," which literally transla
ted means three times three is nine. This
oath is said to be purified by the drink
ing of a certain wine called sacred wine.
The gentleman takes the first swallow,
then the lady the next, and so alternat
ing until all the wine is drunk, the gen
tleman taking the last drink, drinking
in all nine times. The quantity, one
cupful, is equal to a tablespoonful.
The bridal party do not take the honey
moon until two or three days
the wedding day. The wedding dress
of the lady is quite interesting. It is
white, this signifying purity and chastity.
After the ceremony the dress is changed
for a black one, which siguilics that sim
ilar to black it can be changed to an
other color, and that she will always re
main true to her husbaud until death.
In the ancient times some curious customs
prevailed, among them shaving the eye
brows and breaking the teeth, but these
are gradually being abolished. The wed
ding costume of the men is almost uni
form.
liy virtue of the marriage the women
take the name of the husband, unless a
man marries an only daughter of an an
cient family. Then in order to keep up
the family name, he assumes that of tho
wife. All the personal property can bo
transferred to him, but not the realty.
However, there is no equitable settlement
| or dower right, but the courts will oblige
i the husband to support and maintain
1 the wife according to his social standing.
| The liability of the husband aud wife is
I lixed by the usage or equitable justice of
j our couutry.
I The duty of the wife is to do the
J housework and support his or her parents
! according to our customs. The married
| couple very seldom separate from tho
| parents, but live near them, but not in
' the same house. When the parents be
| come old and feeble, the children are
; obliged to make them a comfortable
! home called "Initio," which literally
■ translated means a resting place. This
■ is customarily built in the same place by
: the son. At a certain age the parents
I generally turn over as a gift their entire
' property to their son.
I At this date many married women in
Japan are working in shops as dress
makers or entertainers of guests. Their
i amusements are principally music, which
are played 011 several varieties of instru
i ments as the koto, snmscn or koque, etc.
j Of all the instruments the samsen, a
! stringed instrument somewhat similar to
I the guitar, is the most popular on ac
count of its low cost.
I The honeymoon of the newly-married
! couple generally consists in a journey to
the theatre or to a hot spring resort. In
i Japan there arc a large number of tlie9o
! natural hot springs, which huve lino
i hotels connected with them, such a9
j cannot be found in America to my
j knowledge. They are always crowded
j with visitors, and one can find many
strangers who come from ail countries.
One of these is an interesting place for
an American to visit who wishes to study
the behavior of our people when on their
wedding trip, it not only being very
popular, but also quite inexpensive,
board only being $2 or per week.
Good Way to Bathe Baby.
A very good way of giving a bath to a
delicate infant is to lay a small blanket
in the bottom of the bath tub and wrap
it around the child before lifting him out
of the warm water. In this way he can
feel 110 chill whatever from the outside
air. The nurse should have ou a large
towelling apron in which to wrap tho
baby, wet blanket and all. The head
can then be dried and the upper extrem
ities, keeping him well wrapped all the
time. Put on a warm shirt, slip oIT the
wet apron, and wrap the little one in a
warm big Turhish towel aud dry and
rub him thoroughly.
The Russians have away of bathing
their very young babies that is unique
j and most comfortable. A large log hol
lowed out as deeply as possible serves as
a bathtub and is placed on two cross
stick uprights. A small blanket is laid
at the bottom of the bath together with
a little pillow of folded flannel just high
enough to lift the tiny head above the
water. King Baby is then laid comfort
ably down us if on a bed to kick and
splush without let or hindrance—aud he
does so enjoy it, the bonny wee man!
After a good bath he is taken out with
the blanket wrapped about him as de
scribed above. This seems a very prac
tical way of bathing, as there is no strain
in the position as there is when the head
is held up by the hand.—[New York
| Tribune.
A Fan for an Empress.
The latest eccentricity of Viennese
fashion is a passion for fans of mountain
cock feathers. The last question the
young Austrian belle asks her admirer
before he goes on a hunt is: "Won't
you try, please, to bag me a tine fan?"
An ideal fan of this kind must contain
only feathers from birds brought down
by the most expert shots, and every
feather must be the lone representative
of the giver's skill. Consequently such
an ideal fan may record the admiration
and skill of sixty or seventy hunters. It
is also not uuusal to have cut in the ribs
of the smaller fans a brief account of tho
circumstances under which the giver of
the attached feathers shot the bird. The
German Empress, Augusta Victoria, is
said to have expressed a wish last sum
mer to have such a fan. and ever since that
time the young bloods of the Austrian
court, who have already bagged fans for
their own women, have been shooting
right and left for her sake. The handle
of the fan, now being completed in
Vienna, will bo set with jewels in the
Prussian colors.—[New York £un.
A bunch of Louisiana rice shows a yield o
4,500 grains from a single seed.