The Lebanon express., January 09, 1891, Image 4

- re swept by the
.. '.til t-jwcroot cr:
,ave often brought j
. . ..joc tint beawtr to wear: !
. , . f old prrteelnUy,
.iwiUily lair.
no storms that are lashing the
.sen day to the pleasant home-llfrtit;
... i tUa waves that are big with com mo
a,
-r lull mil and the harbor In sight;
Growing old cheerfully.
1 Checrlul and bright.
T1 the winds that were adverse and
.. ewiUing. .
-""1Pat ml tin Inland that lured thee to rest;
Fit ait tho currents that lured the unwilling
1 ar from thy course to the Land of the
bicst;
Growintr old peacefully.
ivaeriui ana most.
feelinir of envy and sorrow.
to Una-tit tact-s or cnimren are seen,
r Jrom tho youny wouldat thou
- w
-t remember what Ueth between;
- ' irowmjr old willingly.
. : XhanktuU serene.
in experience that angels mlsrht covet,
si in a faith that hath grown with tnj
years:
A in a love that irrew from and above It,
.Soothing thy sorrows and hushing thy fearv
Growing old wealthily,
Loving and dear.
""Hearts at the sound of thy coming are light
ened
Bfady and willing thy hand to relieve;
Manv a face at tly kind word has brightened
"It is more blessed to give than receive."
Growing- old happily,
Ceasing to grieve.
Eres that grow dim to the earth and It glory
Have a sweet recompense youth can no
know;
Ears that grow dull to the world and Its story
Drfnk in the songs that from Paradise Sow;
Growing old graciously,
Purer than snow.
TIIE SIGN PAINTER.
a One morninr, more than two hun
a dr4 veaF3 ao painter stood before
his ijaselTirr-a garret in Xaples, ab-
sorbed m earnest contemplation of a
work he had jnst completed.
I know well enough," said he, with
ms nana o ms Drow, "uian mere is no
, Lack of genius here. I raight even lay
vae down at once and die, and rny name
i rould be rescued forever from obliv
jon." Ribera had tasted the full bitternesa
of genius unrewarded, and stern pov
erty had been his lot- Had he chosen
to lower his ideal and paint for the
! taste of those whose only idea of a pic
ture consisted in that it should be of
' great size and contain plenty of bright
paint, he mignt nave coined money.
But scorning this Ribera remained
poor and proud.
He was still in the full glow of en
thusiasm, when the door of his studio
. opened, and a little, shriveled old
dame shuffled in, bearing a wooden
- trencher with a very spare meal upon.
. it. and lata it down upon one side.
But finding that the painter took no
notice of her, she at last tried to make
him conscious of her presence.
"When I heardyou talking so loud
ly as I came np stairs," she said, "I
thought I should find a real customer
here. But I don't wonder no one will
. buy such a picture as that." she con
tinued, pointing disdainfully at the
canvas on the easel; for it must be re-
t" marked that old Beatrix shared the
prejudice of many of her master's
critics.
'It is truly lamentable, good Bea-
trix, that it does not please thee," said
I Ribera, patting her gently on the
I shoulder.
I "It is much more lamentable to think
rthat you are minded to die of hunger,"
'replied the old dame. "Scanty as j'our
" ner is today" I only hope you may
Hassfood to-morrow; but before
'a'tcTrnnappen you must give me the.
means, for mine are all gone. And
yet you will always be saying that yon
could be rich if you liked' Why have you
not finished that portrait for the Coun
tess of Verona? a lady who would
"airly have covered the canvas with
gold'for you, and secured for you the
'patronage of the viceroy himself. It
, might have been the making of you!"
'Don!ttalk to me of that woman,
RjVatriir " caul Tcihi- with o ovstnrrt
r contempt, "with her modish face
and her lack-luster eye. Ah, if I had
the young girl to copy whom I met
awhile ago, I would have painted her
'with ecstasv!"
"You are a fool," said the old serv-ring-woman;
"happily for yon, your
friends have not lost their wits, trot
have been thinking far more of your
-welfare than you yourself have. Come,
. ? ess yourself now, and go and find
Christopher Panolfo; he is waiting
vou."
'tho is this man?"
-3ne of the richest merchants in
'les."
"L know him not."
"But he knows you welL They have
en talking to him about you; he has
excellent opinion of your talents, and
&nls"toOrder a picture of you. This
j as good as ready money; will you
eject this too, as well as the rest.
"No, certainly not," said Ribera.
If this Panolfo is a judge, and will
ke the trouble to come to me, he will,
yond all doubt, set a respectable
ice on this masterpiece before us."
" "What! you will not even call upon
m?"
:- , Ribera coolly turned to the window
id shrugged his shoulders.
""No? This is past all bearing," cried
3atrix. with the greatest indignation,
she planted herself before him with
almost threatening air. "I tell you
inly, you must go to Panolfo."
.ibera shook his head.
Ah, I see," continued she. "I must
you to obedience. This shows a
3 heart, Ribera. Though I made
m angry at first by speaking ill of
ur painting, yon must forgive me,
I go to Panolfo. Here is your
'fV, and here your hat, which he
's you immensely when you just
it a little on one side, so. You
de your jerkin beneath your
'for it is a little too shabby to
i open daj'light."
littering on, as if she would
Beatrix waited only till
M finished attiring himself,
rusting him out of the
" him one more volley of
as he descended the
wfTive at the other end
tCn ask for the merchant
Mind you do not forget his
' lives in the grand square
' xsite the palace of the
are ye well, and bring me
good news yon can.
- ' Panolfo's house, two of
-Donducted Ribera into a
sed apartment, which af
1 jrb view of the spacious
ing it, and of the blue
. in the distance, A
'andee, corpulent, with
xr cast of countenance,
- , up and down the
Ipw sat a young
- . 71 her hand,
"cious per-
and tne
Pea. KiDera
entering, but
; . 1 on the
'd and
n; for
xon-
!bunter.
Kit to utter
the inquiring
chant Panolfo.
Titrance, had
i the room,
' fusion to
itiful
painter. So clumsily was it managed,
and with such an air of condescension,
moreover, that Ribera was immediate
ly rousod from his abstraction; rising
to his f till height he replied, all his old
pride visible u Ins Hashing eye and
curled lip:
"Neither wealth nor power, nor
aught that is wont to inspire others
with a wo, could humble me or cause
me to lower my gaze; and if you be
held my eiiibarrassmeut,it was from no
other cause than niv intense admira
tion of one of the Creator's most beau
tiful masterpieces.."
mi ee mvt uiai ox die toveiy iaura,
and in her blushing cheeks and droop
ing lashes it could not escape him that
Panolfo's daughter participated in his
feelings. The spell of enchantment was
upon them, ana before either had ex
changed speech the mute language of
the e3-e assured each that they were
loved. Unconsciously Panolfo led the
flame; for the more condescendingly
he played the patron to the artist, the
more " sympathetic grew Laura's
glances, and the more anxious she ap
peared to atone for the pain of humil
iation occasioned by her father's man
ner. "They tell me, sir," began the mer
chant, "that you are not wanting in
talent, but that vou are poor and in
need of work. 1 have always taken
pleasure in fostering the arts, so we
will see whether yon deserve one's
patronage."
Ribera bit his lip and bowed it was
all he could trust himself to do. Laura
noticed the scarcely hidden play of his
features,and to smooth the rising storm,
said sweetly:
. "You are a stranger here, sir?"
Her voice seemed to touch every
chord in the painter's heart. His brow
grew smooth aain as he replied:
"I was born m Spain, signora, near
Valencia, I have been in Rome,
Venice, Florence, and Parma; in every
place I have visited I have left traees
of my work behind me; wherever the
divine art of painting flourishes there
I have gathered honey as a, bee from
summer flowers. I am now settled at
Naples, and never intend to leave it,"
with a meaning glance at Laura.
"What induces you, sir painter, to
give this eity your gracious prefer
ence?" with a sneering smile.
Although Ribera felt the blood slow
ly rising to his face, he managed to
answer calmly. "That is a secret,
signor."
"Yon are too curious, father," said
Laura, throwing a little oil on this in
cipient conflagration. "Signor Ribera
doubtless wishes vou to infer lhat he
loves."
"Yes, signor," said Ribera, "I love,
and ih an ardor that will last for my
life!"
"A truce to this fencing," impatient
ly said Panolfo. "Let ns come to
business. Come, my good sir, are
yon minded to earn live-and-twenty
ducats? But you have not yet in
formed me what branch of your art you
pursue?"
"Tell me only," said Ribera. "what
you think of ordering."
"A sign for my warerooms "
This was too much. Ribera moved
as if to rise, but an imploring gesture
from L.aura restrained him; lus anger,
however, was so great that he could
not find words to say whether or not he
accepted this proposal.
'Are you not inclined for it?" said
Panolfo. "Why it would be the finest
possible opportunity of making your
self known, and if you have any talent
you could have no better way of show
ing it to the public. Do something de
cent for me, and all my fellow mer
chants will givS you commissions forth
with." "Will you trust the choice of a sub
ject to me?" said Ribera, with sudden
animation. "On no other condition
will I undertake your commission."
"Well," replied the merchant, "I
have confidence in your taste; do what
you like for me.''
"And what price do you stipulate
for?" asked Ribera, with a smile of
bitterness.
"As I told 3-011 before, five-and-twenty
ducats; and that, according to
my notion, is paying the thing well.
You need only make a beginning, and,
if I am satisfied, I will let you paint
my portrait too, and double the
amount. You see, I know how to do
things."
"My thanks to you,'" cried Ribera,
rising to his majestic heighth. "Had
you left it to me, 1 should have said five
hundred ducats as the price; but I only
ask to fix the picture I shall paint for
you forone single day over the door of
youi" house and it shall not cost you so
much as a breath. You are in the
right. I must make myself known,
and I seize the opportunity that pre
sents itself. You may give it out pub
licly, siguor, that you have concluded
a good bargain with the first painter in
Naples. In a short time we shall
meet again. Adieu, siguor. Fare
well, signora."
Ribera slowly withdrew. As he
lingered a moment beneath the win
dow of the room he had jnst quitted, a
purse fell at his feet. It contained
five hundred ducats, and a slip of pa
per on which was written indelicate
characters, "My hand and fortune for
the first painter in Naples."
A few days after the occurrence
narrated above, a large crowd was as
sembled in front of Panolfo's house.
Every one was pointing toward it or
clapping his hands, and asking the
name of the artist who, during the pre
ceding night, had erected as a sign the
magnitient picture of the Martyrdom
of St. Bartholomew. The enthusiasm
of the throng soon manifested itself in
vehement clamor. Never till then had
such a subject found such an interpre
ter; never till then had the pencil of
mortal man soared to so high a degree
of expression and power.
The news soon spread over the town,
and the crowd in the square grew so
large at last that the viceroy himself
became anxious to know the reason.
Accompanied, therefore, by his favor
ites, he repaired to the spot opposite
the house of Panolfo, and, seized with
astonishment and admiration at the
sight, cried aloud:
Who painted this masterpiece?"
There was no repW.
'Why doos the artist conceal him
self?" continued he. "Let him come
forward and rely on my protection.
All the painters of Naples shall be
schooled by him. Once more, whose
masterpiece is this?"
'It is mine, signor," cried Ribera,
stepping forth from the crowd.
"Who art thou?"
"My name is Ribera. I am here un
known, and o:i!y wait to become that
which your highness shall make me!"
"What reward dost thou ask?"
"The title of -First Painter to the
Viceroy of Naples."
"Thy wish is granted. How much
hast thou received for this picture?"
"Sire the merchant Panolfo offered
me twenty-five ducats for it, but I
spurned his offer. However, he can
content me another way. His daugh
ter Laura and I love one another
fondly, devotedly."
"To-morrow ye shall be united."
Sure to his promise the viceroy
caused the union of Ribera and Laura:
to be solemnized the following week.
In a short time Ribera la Espagnioletta
became the most renowned painter in
Naples. But Panolfo, who had most
cordially assented to his daughter's
union with Ribera, never let a df.y
pass without boasting that he bad-been
the first to recognize the genius-of the
illustrious Sign Painter. Jamed Grant.
Three Little Sailors.
With a worn-out tub for a vessel staur.ch
Three little ones went a sailing.
No water wag there but the bright green
grass.
That waved and tossed when a breeze would
pas,
d 'twas bound by the garden paling.
An
There was captain and mate and the merry
erew
No more could the vessel hold.
But merry crew toiled wihh remarkable skill.
And the mate kept hi post with a right good
will,
And the captain was brave and bold.
To the old gray poreh was tho vessel bound.
They called It a foreign shore.
"Land ahoy I" But the merry crew cried with
a pout:
"Oh, Thnmy, not yett I ain't going to get
out:
I want to go sailing some morel"
The captain turned wtth an awful frown
To the mutinous one at hi side.
But the stern rebuke was not given that day,
And tho awful frown to a smile gave way
As a newcomer he espied.
The Maltese, Lady Fair, crept cautiously
near.
As if ready to Join in the plav.
"Forward herel" cried the captain "and
lower tin boat I
There's a poor sailor here on the ocean atloat,
(Julek, and rescue the lone castaway!"
AlasI for the captain, his mate and tho crew
Alasl for benevolent eal.
Six small, eager hands stretched to aid Lady
Fair,
Six heels appeared suddenly high In the air.
And the vessel lay top under keel.
A shipwreck Is truly a terrible thlnir.
And though weakness of heart we deplore,
Tou will not be surprised to hear me relate
That, after enduring that most awful late.
The captain, the crew and the sturdy young
mate
Concluded to stav upon shore!
Ella Randall, in Golden Day.
HER LOVE REVEALED.
"Of course, I shall never dare to
speak another word to her!" said Rob
ert Dale.
But why not. Bob? Only tell me
why not?" cried out little Florrie,
climbing up the beams of the barn
loft; so that her head should be just
on a level with that of her tall broth
er, and clasping him around the neck
with both arras.
Robert was a tall handsome voun
athlete, at thst moment busy in mend-
ing one 01 the cogs of a steam-plougu
with deft and ready touch.
His dark-brown hair hung in heavy
masses over his broad forehead; his
hazel eyes were full of latent lire, aud
there was a world of character and
resolve in his mouth and chin. One
might easily excuse Florrie Dale for
being proud of such a brother as
that.
Don't vou see, Florrie?" said the
young giant, gently puttintr awav the
nands that interfered with the delicate
screws he held. "I never asked her to
be ni3- wife while she was a jxHir an4
dependent school-teacher here. How
cau I have the face to do it now that
she has inherited a fortune?"
"But you were just going to ask
her. Bob you know you were!"
"Ah, but how is she to know it?"
"Why. by instinct, of course," de
cided Florrie.
Dale shook hs head with rather a
sad smile.
"No, my little girl." said he, "I do
not ciioose to be mistaken for one of
the great army of fortune-hunters.
I've lost 1113' opportunity, and there's
an end of it. It's my own fault,"
Florrie burst into teal's.
"Oh, Bob! ' s-aid she.
Robert Dale stroked down her sun
shiny head, not without a sparkle of
moisture in his own eyes, hut he
smiled a wan smile nevertheless.
"I've often read that pride was a
sin," sobbed Florrie, but I never
comprehended it before. Oh. Bob, I
could almost hate you, if I didn't love
yon so dearly!"
And Florrie scrambled down from
her perch on the beam and ran away,
with both hands clasped over her
face.
' Dale looked after her.
"Poor l.ttle darling!" he said to
himself. "It is but a scratch on the
surface of her tender young heart.
On mine it is a deep uound seared in
with red-;:ot iron. God help me!'
ltwas oneot those romances whicn
occur in real life oftener than one has
any idea of. Mabel Wayne was a
pretty young school-teacher in Ab
bott's village, whose life of poverty
had suddenly been turned into riches
by the bequest of a distant and nearly
forgotten relative.
To Mabel herself it seemed like a
golden dream. ' How often she had
built castles in the air. whereof the
foundation was, "If I were rich!" And
now the dream had come true; the
pinnacle of the air-castles were actu
ally shining athwart the sky of her
life, heretofore such a cold and gray
expanse!
"And now," said Mabel to herself,
"I can fulfill all 1113- heart's desires."
She took counsel with no one, un
less now and then an hour with the
gra'-haired old lawyer might come
under that head; she simply did as
she pleased.
'Hev' 3e seen the new house that
Mabel Wynne is buildin'?" said one
neighbor to another. "It's a reglar
Aladdin's castle! With the trees all
cut away fram the lake, and new
drives made through the woods, and
heathen statters set up here and
there, and a row o' glass houses to
raise furrin plants, and ripen grapes
ami peaches before their time."
"I don't approve of no such no
tions," solemnly answered the other.
"To 1113' mind, it's a clear settin' o'
Providence at defiance. Grapes in
March! And orange-trees a-llovcrin'
in this 'ere climate, with the snow on
the ground! Mark my words, there
won t be no good come of it!"
It was a bright September evening
when Mabel Wynne stopped at the olu
Dale farm-house.
Florrie rushed to meet her, and
greeted her with hugs and kisses in
numerable. "Dear, dear M.-iyT'she said; "why
haven't 3 0U been to see us before?''
"Why haven't vou been to see me?"
retorted Mabel with the piquant oil
hand manner which was one of her
greatest charms. "That is the ques
tion. I should think?"
Florrie's e3 elashes dropped; instinct
ively she turned to her brother.
Robert advanced to her rescue, offer
ing Miss Wynne his hand with an ex
cellent imitation of composure.
'Because, Mabel, your time has
been so much occupied," said he. "I
told Florrie that tilings were changed
that 3-ou could hardly be expected
to have leisure to devote to her silly
prattle,"
"How did 3'ou know that things
were changed?" cried Mabel, with a
resentful flash in her violet-blue
e3"es.
"My own common-sense told me
so."
"Was that the reason 3-011 haven't
been to see me?"
'One of the reasons."
"Oh!" said Mabel, with an inde
scribable intonation of voice, and fix
ing her eyes upon his with a sudden
questioning glance, which he was but
too thankful to evade by looking an
other way. "That was all that you
cared for 3-our old friend eh?
"If I could be of any real practical
use to jK'y old friend "
"You can," briefly interrupted Miss
iyynne.
"Tell me how, and I shall be at
your service." "
Florrie put her arms around t
friend's neck, whispering softly: ,
"This is like old time', Ma3 !" ,,1
"And J want rFIorr
a woman's taste! May I count on
both of you?"
"On "me, certainly," said Robert
Dale.
"You might know that. I would be
ready to help 3011," cried Florrie, al
most inclined to lie aggrieved.
"Then will you both come up to
The Glen' to-morrow at ten o'clock?"
"That's the name of your new fairy
palace?"
"Didn't you know UP"
Robert smiled.
"I didn't ask many questions," said
he.
"Yes, it is called ThoGlenI,M she
answered.
Maliel Wynne stayed and spent the
evening at "the Dale farmhouse. She
and Florrie sang sweet duets to the
accompaniment of Robert's violin.
They talked of old times and new,
and" when at last Robert returned
from seeing Mabel home, Florrie
clapped her hands gleefully.
"Oh, Bob," she cried, "isn't It nice
to have Mabel here once more?"'
And Bob's smile did her heart
gootl.
The next day, however, things as
sumed a new aspect. Robert and
Florrie walked up through tho wood
to the beautiful new house, whoso
stained-glass casement commanded
so rare a view of hillside, woodlands,
and distant winding river. Mabel
was standing on the portico.
"Now come in, she cried radi
antly. "Walk through all the rooms
with n.e. Here is the library I want
Robert's idea about fitting that tip
and here are the drawing-rooms.
Florrie and I must decide aliout tliese;
for, to tell you the truth" and the
colored pinker than a rose "I am
going to be married!"
Florrie started back, with a l.ttle
exclamation; Robert stood calm and
quiet as one of the marble statues iu
the vestibule.
'Married!" Florrie cried; "ami not
to confide in me! Oh, Mav!"
"Tell me," said Mabel,' "shall we
furnish the drawing-room in blue
and silver, or pink and gold? And
shall my rooms bo the south ones, or
the suite looking out over the river?
And Bob must have the vestibule fur
nished to suit a man's taste. I should
n't like to have my husband criticise
them when he comes. Will 3-ou do
this for me. Bob, beeause of our old
friendship? Oh, don't look so solemn
ly at me! I know I am asking a good
tteal, but 1 thought 1 could depend
on you."'
You can," he answered quietly.
Come out and look at the new sun
dial on the south lawn," added Ma
bel. "Florrie has run upstairs to see
the river from the observatory. We
won't wait for her, because. Bob, 1
want to tell you a secret."
"Wouldn't 3'our husband be the
proper one to confide in. May?" he
asked.
"In this ease, no. Bob," she cried.
"Lidteu to me. I love this man with
all 1113 soul this husband that is to
be and he loves me."
"Naturally," observed Robert, set
ting li-s'teeth.
"But he does not dare to tell me so.
He thiuks, don't you see, that I am an
heiress. Well, so I am; but I um a
woman, nevertheless, and I love him!
Is my w fetched money to part us? If
so, I'll fling it all into the ocean, and
begin life anew as a beggar-girl. Now,
Bob. w hat shall I do? It is for this
that I sent for 3-011 to come here. Ans
wer me quickh ."
"Tell him all," said Robert huskily.
For God's sake do not break his
heart forso trifling a cause as this!"
Mabel's cheeks crimsoned, her e-es
fell to the ground.
"I have told him," she murmured,
"within this hour. Oh, Robert, Rob
ert! have I said too much?"
'M3' Ma3 my own darling!" cried
Dale." "And to think that this miser
able, false pride of mine failed to
measure the nobility of vour virtue!"
When Florrie came Jown from the
observatory to the marble sun-dial,
where the minutes were measured off
by sunshine ah, how appropriate it
seems just now, this division of time!
Bob and Mabel were sitting side by
side on a rustic bench, and there was
something in their faces that betra3ed
the truth at ence.
'You have discovered our secret,
little sister," said lie.
Florrie uttered a cry of jov.
"Oh, May!" she cried; "is" it Bob?"
"Could it be am-one else than Bob?"
Mabel whispered her sweet eyes full
of loving light.
A REMARKABLE GIRL.
She Can't On Mm Literary Productions ol
the Present !y.
There is a remarkable young girl up
town, says the Woman-Aliont-Town of
the New York Evening Sun. She
ought not to be so remarkable as she
is, and the very fact lhat her reading
habits are worth chronicling is a sad
comment on the cheap ami perverted
taste for literature that is, alas! too
characteristic of the young people all
about us.
She was recently asked if she
read a certain new society novel, of
which everybody was talking and over
which young women particularly grew
warmly enthusiastic.
She looked a little shamefaced as she
replied "No; I tried to read it, but I
j:ist couldn't, ami so I gave it up. A
discussion of liooks and writers fol
lowed in which it transpired that tho
young girl hail never read oue of the
duchess' novels, nor of Rhoda Broujrh
ton's, nor of Ouida's, nor of any of lhat
school of English writers whose he
roines thrilh autl throb. and clutch, and
hunger, as our dear old autocrat would
8:13-.
"Nor Miss Aleott, nor Miss Murfee,
nor Heury Hayes, nor Marion Craw
ford?" was asked.
She looked distressed, but shook her
head.
"Perhaps it is Howells, then, or Aul
rich, or even Henry James?''
Still she shook her head.
"Do tell me. then what 3011 are por
ing over hours out of each tlayr"
"I have no business living in this
generation," she answered. "I belong
to the past. I hardly know the names
of all these authors 3 0:1 have been ask
ing about. I read what my father and
mother did Scott, and Dickens, and
Thacker.-u-. and Bulwer, and Addison,
auil Butler, and Maeauhy.
And no modern writers?'
"I've read George Eliot and George
Sand and a little of Balzac. I've tried
to read the prcscnt-day writers. I
reall3T have. But I can't. It is like
trying to' drink vin ordinaire with the
flavor of Johannisberger still on one's
lips. I would hear some book most
lavishly and enthusiastically praised.
I would send for it and begin the first
few pages. I seldom got further. It
was too much of a wreucli.and I would
shut the volume and go back to dear
old Thackeray, and Lamb, and Walter
Savage Landor, and the rest . of the
saints. The lirst books I ever read
were of the old-fashioned kind; my
father used to read Dickens, and Ma
caulav, and 'Don Quixote' aloud to us
every night after dinner, and I grew
up in the companionship of tliese writ
ers. After that I was never able 'to
form a taste for anything less, I do
sometimes feel ashamed when I hear
peoe'- talking so glibly about tliese
""'". ""' -ors. I know I "ought to be--''"'
' , live in the century irwr ...-
. rnd all that, but I '
Unreconciled.
1 cannot say it! heart jutrt lip are dumb
The heart that lunr, tho lips that moved in
prayer,
Glad s'intis that mndo llfo beautiful and
brilit,
ThanW-uivlng for the love that made earth
lair,
"O! try me, Iyrd!" I sal-1. "bv any test:
Take all my blessings, all save this the best!"
1 prayed and slept and when the morning
broke.
The sun rose, but It shone no mot 3 for me;
The Dowers were dead tiiat bloomed but J es-ter-noon.
And birds sang lonesome songa from every
trw,
Of wintry skies aliove an empty nest;
Only a friend's voice whispered, Mlt Is best I"
It cannot b f.ir me; some other life
May pencet grow, because of all my pain;
Some other flowers may bloom where mine
have died.
Born in the night and fed by bitter rain:
And watching antrels, fair. Serene aud blest,.
Seeing bis lave, may know that it is best1
But 1 am dumb, O Iird! lit all my wo,
I cannot even weep my lost delight;
Out of the realms of songs and sunlit skies
1 wander onward, through the lonely night,
I drink thy cup. that to my lips Is pressed.
The wine is bitter. Can I say, " 'Tib best?'1
Thy dust and ashes crown my bended head.
Thy sackcloth binds me like a winding,
sheet.
Thy thorny path I cannot see the end
I walk with naked, bleeding, faltering feet.
I kneel. O Lord! my every sin conlesed.
Forgive me that 1 cannot say. "l is best."
Mnry Rldiell Corley.
ETERNAL (LATITUDE.
"This affair has gone far enough,
Susan. Geoffrey Herrimau is not the
proper jerson to be my daughter's
constant escort, and I'll nave no more
of it," said James Raymond to his
pretty daughter, who "stood gazing
after the receding form of a young
man who had just left the house.
Susie turned away w ithout a word;
but angrj', resentful feelings filled her
heart as she thought:
"There's nobody like Phil Williams
in father's estimation, and he can't see
any good in anyone else."
So far, she had licen a dutiful and
obedient daughter; but she was sev
enteen now, and she at once decided
that this was her own affair, and if
she loved Geoffrey, it wasn't necessary
that he should be adored bv the whole
family. Thev would not be obliged
to live with him if she thuti'd marry
him
She managed to send a note to her
lover, inform ng h:m of her father's
opposition, and counselling him to
wait until a better acquaintance should
give the impetuous old gentlemen a
more exalted opinion of the Inau of
her choice.
But Mr. Herrinian had less faith in
the result of a better acquaintance;
and besides, he reflected that even
Susie's maturer judgment might not
confirm her girlish opinion, and he
had worldly wisdom enough to know
that his only chance was in completing
the bargain at once.
Ami so there was a clandestine
meeting, ami a few evenings later a
carriage stopped a short distance from
Mr. Raymond's dwelling; and toward
midnight the notes of an owl, three
times repeated, floated softly up from
among the trees in the orchard, while
with a nervously-beating heart, Susie
stood listening by the open window.
Yes, there it was again reiieated at
an interval of thirty seconds and for
a single instant a light flashed from
the window, as a signal that the coast
was clear; and then, dimly visible
through the doubtful starlight, she
descried the form of her lover emerg
ing from among the trees.
She trembled with apprehension.
Nearer came the approaching form,
and a ladder was firmly placed against
the windowsill. Trembling like a leaf,
but undaunted and determined, she
descended to her anxious lover.
"Make haste, my darling!" urged
her lover, clasping her hand, and
starting toward the path leading out
through the orchard; but as they
turned the corner of the house, a most
unexpected sight was presented to
their view.
There, within ten feet of the run
aways, stood her father, with a huge
feather-bed clasped in his arms; and
closely following came the mother car
rying a couple of portly pillows, and
directly after her came Annie, with
her arms full of blankets and bed
quilts, while brother Tom brought up
the rear, supporting a washtub upon
his shoulder with one hand, and carry
ing an old tin tea-kettle in the other.
"Just wait a moment-, daughter,'
said the father, pleasantly. "You
came near forsrettinjr vuir bridal out-
tit, and no child of mine shall ever go
destitute from the parental roof.
Here, young man, just lend a hand.
will vou? llus feather-bed seems
monstrous heavy, someway."
"Just take the side o'this.tub w ill you,
Luke, and help me to carry it out to3'our
vehicle?" said Tom, elbowing his'way
past the feather bed and setting the
tub down in the path at the feet of the
astonished pair.
"And here's the identical pillow that
I've been savin a: for vou for the last
five years. If I had a thousand dauglv
ters, I'd make pillows for them all!"
said the mother, pressing forward and
reaching: them to.vard Iter.
Poor Susie! The very ground seemed
sinking beneath her feet, and the shock
of an earthquake could scarcely have
carried the consternation to her heart
that she felt at that moment.
1 ears of shame and vexation came
welling up to her twes for a brief in
terval; but the ease was desperate, and
it was a second edition of Iter father's
own will that asserted itself a moment
after.
Summoning all her courage, she de
termined to stand by her lover nt all
hazards and so to proclaim, if she
must suffer insult, humiliation, and
abuse for his sake, the- could just pile
it up; but she would marry him, and
him onl3'. if it was for twenty 3'ears to
come, and she would just tell them so,
then and there.
She turned to him for support and
encouragement in this defiant declara
tion; but he had lied, and left her to
meet the storm alone.
Poor girl! She was willing to brave
whirlwind ami tempest, to walk through
fire, if need be, for his sake; but cow
ardly desertion in the hour of severest
trial was too much. All the brave,
defiant spirit died out, a feeliir; of ut
ter helplessness caine over her, and
the sudden revulsion caused a dizzy
faintness to creep through her heart
and bii'in, anil she sank insensible
upon the ground.
The fattier dropped the feather bed,
ami carried her into tho house, where
she was restored to consciousness.
Tears of shame and mortification
rolled down her pale cheeks, and she
turned her face aw 113' to hide them.
"My daughter," said the father kind
It' "Iliad intended, tt invite him into
the house and agree to youc marriage,
if 3"ou still persisted in your determin
ation to marry him. Shall I bring him
back?"
"Not till I'm able to wring his neck!"
she answered, with' all tho fierce indig
nation of her outraged feelings and
wounded pride surging up from the
depths of her heart and flashing from
the dark e3"es so recently beaming with
tenderness for her recreant lover.
He sent her a letter; but she prompt
ly returned it unopened.
She was taking a stroll in the or
chard one day, when she very unex
ivectly met Phil Williams, the very per
' xi of all others whom she was anxious
lavoid -
hjj. blushet' V a June rosebud,
would1-' :-fr? without n.n-
. -iff.. ' - K" tjo'
his honest eyes that she eolflu not es
cape him.
' "W e miss you at the social gatherings,
Susie'," he said, "and you must not let
one disappointment deprive the neigh
borhood of your society. You have
done nothing" more than any girl in tho
country would have done had the op-
fortunity been given her; and Mr.
lerrlman certainly displayed gootl
Judgment in selecting you "in prefer
ence to all others," he said, soothingly.
"I didn't." said S isle, decidedly.
"Well, ne er iit.ttd that now." he
answered. "I want you to go with
me to a partj- sit the residence of Mr.
Nelson, next" week."
"Oh, leant. I can't!" cried Susie,
jiiteously. "Everyone will be laugh
ing at me and leasing me, and I can
not bear it."
"No one shall say a word to annoy
3011 without bearing from me then and
there!" he said, encouragingly. "It
is not to be supposed that a girl like
you can get over a liking for a man
like him nil at once. But 1 would be
rlad to have you to and convince Mr.
Ilerriuiau that he has not broken your
heart entirety." ,
"My heart will never break for such
a cowardly mist reaut as he!" she an
swered, indignantly.
"Come, then, and satisfy him that
you tlon t mind seeing Inm Hirt with
Mollie Dean any more than if it were
myself," he said, persua lively.
"Phil, have you real it the courage
to take ire where every one will be ridi
culing us both?" she asked earnestly.
"Yes, and shield 3-011 from all an
noyance w hile you are there," he an
swered, promptly.
"Then I'll go!'' she said, with a feel
ing of greater rcsjiect for Phil Will
iams than she had ever known before.
Mr. Herrinian was at the party, and
Susie recognised liim with the jMilIte
ness due to a guest at the same house,
ami treated him with the unaffected in
difference of an ordinary acquaintance,
which was infinitely more pleasing
than a decided expression of resent
ment would have been, for it looked to
him ns if she cared too little to be
angry.
In the course of a few weeks be was
married to Mollie.
Three years passed sway, anil hav
ing acquired a comfortable home in
which to place her, Phil Williams led
Susie to the a'tar without the necessity
of an elopement.
Mr. and Mrs. Herrinian continued
to live upon the forty-acre farm given
them b3" Mollie s fatlicr.
Susie had never visited them since
their marriage; but one morning,
shortly after settling down to house
keep'ug, Phil asked Susie .to ride to
town with him aud having business
with Mr. Herrinian, he drove round
that way.
They found Mollie out attending to
the pigs and poultry, carrying a child
in her arms, and followed 113- another
little one just old enough to toddle
after her.
She tried to conceal the fact that her
husband was still in bed; for, having
been to a party on the previous eve
ning, from which he did not return
until four o'clock in the morning, he
was making np for his loss of sleep,
while his wife took care of the children
ami attended to the farm.
There was a feelingof pity in Susie's
heart when she noted the weary and
discouraged look upon Mollies fea
tures, as she tried to make satisfactory
excuses for her husband's too apparent
negligence; for a true woman alwavs
endeavors to conceal her husband's
faults.
After leaving the place, both were
silent for a few moments, then Phil
said:
"Susie, do 3 0:1 envy Mollie her hand
some husband?"
"Oh, Phil," said Susie earnestly, "I
was just thinking "
She paused. as if unwilliugto proceed.
Of course you were, and so was I."
said Phil. "Susie, I have a secret that
I have never told you."
"Well, let me hear it," she replied.
"Not till you promise forgiveness,"
he said, teasinly.
And at last she promised.
"It was I who lirst discovered your
intention to elope, and gave the infor
mation that cheated you out of the
handsomest husband in the county."
Susie stared at him in nsionishnitoit-
"You promised forgiveness, remem
ber," he said, laughing at her look of
astonishment.
"Not forgiveness, but eternal grati
tude, Phil." she said, with a heart over
flowihg with thankfulness for having
escaped the consequences of her own
girlish rashness.
THE CONCO SAVAGES-
Herbert Ward's Account of the Horrible
Human Sacrifice.
The victim is nlaced on a block of
wood, with his legs stretched out stiff
In front of him. Beside each ankle a
8 in all stake is driveu tirmty- into the
ground, the same at the knees and at
the sides, running ur under the arm
pits. These are then firmly bound
together by cords, securing the body
rigidly in its position. His head is then
placed in a kind of cage formed by a
ring of cane fastened round the neck
with numerous strings attached to it
which are drawn up over the head and
tied together in a loop. A pliant
voun? sanlm? is now stuck in the
ground about twelve feet from the vic
tim aud bent over -toward him until the
extreme end is caught in the loop, and
all the strings round the ring drawn
taut and the neck stretched stiff 113- the
strain.
1 he executioner then makes Ins ap
pearance, escorted bv the youug men
and women of the village.each holding
over him a palm-leaf fan, forming a
kind of canopy. On reaching the vic
tim they fall back antl leave him there
alone. "He wears a cap formed of large
black cocks tails; his lace is blackened
with charcoal down to his neck; his
hands and arms are also blackened up
to the elbows, and the same, with his
legs down to the knees. Around his
loins he wears several wild-cat skins.
Standing iu front of his victim, he
makes at first two or three feints with
his knife, to get the proper swing.
Then deliberately bending down and
taking a piece of chalk, put there for
the purpose, he draws a thin line
around the neck, and putting a little
tine sand ou his hand so as to get
good grip, with one quick blow of his
knife, severs the head from tne uiiuk
Until just before the execution tho
whole village is wild in expectation of
the event. Group of dancers are to be
seen, drummers at work, and every
kind of musical intrument to add to
the tumult. The head, after being
severed, is lerked up in the air by the
released tension of the pole.
' Then, upon the sight of the blood.
their vilest and roost inhuman passions
are aroused. They act like wild beasts,
clutch at the head, smear each other in
the face with the blood, aud a general
scrimmage always ensues, resulting,
more often than not, fatally. Scribner.
f'luno 1'olihlitiitr.
Do not use "polishes" peddled ot
recommended t3' any one. A man
roust work at least a year or two to
learn the business of polishiug, so do
Dot think that woman can learn in
two minutes bv rcudingsoine directions
from a bottle's label. If one cannot
nfford to have it polis ied bv a pro
iessioual, it enn he washed witiTi"
"chamois," and whCHi dry ru,'
WHhtll old nl. ee of C,-
- 'm grease. tT
cl-e . - - ' " f ; "
i HE WANTED THE EARTH. ,
Attn Francisco Batcher Who tSt Fee
(one Slip Throagu IIU Grasp.
for a long time after the bonanza
excitement "the stock market in San
Francisco remained quiet and inactive.
More or less trading was done la Com-
stock shares, of course, but the market
as a whole was quietly settling down
to w hat appeared it "bedrock" basis.
J lie Sierra Jncrad.-i and Union Con
solidated mines at the northern end ol
the Comstock group were at this limp
particularly inactive, the former selling
as low as liftv cents a share. Rumors,
however began to circulate about this
time of a "strike" in the north end
mines and Sierra Nevada and Union
began to climb upward.
John lowers, a butcher, owned al
the time of which I speak a small shop
at the corner of Hayes street and Van
Ness avenue, and he somehow becanif
mbued with the idea that there was-
more money to be made at stock
speculation thau in the butcher busi
ness. Acting upon this idea t owers,
bv mortgaging his business and bor
rowing what money he could, scraped
together a few thousand dollars, which
he deposited in the office of a Pint
street brokerage firm.
He wasn't particular, he said, as tc
what stock he should bny. and finally
settled on Sierra Nevada as being a
good purchase, leaviug instruction
wiin his oroKeis 10 iiuj- iw snares 101
his account. This was done audPoweri
was duly credited with the stock, fol
w hich had been paid f"Jl per share.
Aleanwliile the rumors came pourins
in from Virginia Citv about the great
north end strike, and Sierra xevads
began to fairly jump forward, until it
was quoted at 1 15. This would have
satisfied any ordinary man, but not si
Powers. Instead of selling be gave
orders to buy more stock.
in the course of the next two weefcf
Sierra Nevada had reached 1 250 pel
share, antl Powers, with 300 shares tc
bis credit, was in debt to his broken
about tW.tXKJ. He could have realizec"
at this point a clean profit of over f 45,-
000. His brokers besrged him to sell, but
Powers was obd urate. He was aftet
a million, he said, and as long as his
margins remained good the brokers re
maiued satisfied.
Powers then sold nut his business en
tirely and nut up the proceeds as ad
ditional margin. He began to look'ur
favorable sites for the residence he in
tended to put up lhat. he asserted would
beat them 'nob heel all airs all holler.
Haviuir, like a skyrocket, reached iff
highest point. Sierra Nevada now be
gau to come down, at first slowly
and then more rapidly even thau it
went up. Powers had gone to the
country for a few davs to look at $
ranch he bad intended purchasing.
His brokers had wired him to return.
aud he had supposed that it was be
cause his stock had reached the fl.OOf
limit, nt which figure he had left order
to sell.
It was with a very joyous counten
ance that he greeted his broker, wlioii
lie met 011 the street.
Well." said Powers, havn yon sold
the stock?
"Oh. 3-es." said the broker: "we ha?
to. lou see it beiiaii to fall, aud o
protect ourselves we had to let .it all
go at HO. and 3-011 nov owe us $750,
which I liojK you can settle."
"What? fairly gasiied the astonish
ed Power. '-Iet it go at 140? And
you sav I'm in debt?"
Yes." replied I he broker; "we told
von to sell, but ion wauled the earth.
and I guess you'll have to go back tc
your trade.
V hen it liuallv tlawned 011 Powers
that the broker realty- spoke the truth
he was almost overcome with rnef aud
disappoint inetiL He rallied, hovrevei
and if any one now wants a choice
gteak "Johnny Powers, who works fot
a large market concern on Pine street,
is just the man lo iro to.
lie vill probably tell yon that hf
ouztit 10 oe ami iingtic nave been a
millionaire, but the qtialiti' of the meat
will be gootl just the same. A. Y.
World.
Royal Fish.
While obi ami wise heads of the
United States and England are carry
ing; on a dijrniiied iii:irrel over the
ownership of the seal in Behring Sea,
let me tell vou something about royal
Hsh.
You know that Kings and Queens
have rnanv rijrhts and perogatives.
Well, oue of these perogatives of En
glish rulers in olden times related to
royal lish. Royal fish are sturgeon and
whale, which are considered the finest
of deep-sea fish. For this reason, "on
account of their superior excellence,"
whenever one of these fish was thrown
ashore or caught near the coast of
England it became the property of the
King. This seems very nnjnst to those
who might secure tho whale or stur
geon, lor they were compelled to give
tt up without receiving any par HOW'
evt r the King had some ground for
claiming these royal fish as his proper
ty, beeause it was he who guarded and
protected the seas from pirates and
robbers, and in those dajs there were
very many ot them.
The most peculiar feature of the
custom of royal fish was this that
while the whole of the sturgeon be
longed to the King, only half of a
whale did. For it was a prerogative,
as it is called, of the Queen that the
tail of every whale caught in the way
I have told 3-011 was her property, while
the head was only the King's. The
reason for this division, as given by the
old records, was to furnish the Queen's
wardrobe with whalebone; and this
reason is more amusing than the cus
tom is peculiar, for the whalebone lies
entirely in the head of the whale. But
there are many, more as strange and
amusing customs recorded in England's
early laws.
This right to royal fish was considered
of great importance, and was carefully
guarded for many generations. It was
also a prerogative of the Kings of
Denmark and the Dukes of Normandy,
and from one of these it was probably
derived by the Princes of .England.
IF. H. S., in Harper's Young People.
Cowhide Horseshoes.
In England and on many parts of the
continent they have been for a long
time using a horseshoe made by coin
pressing common cowhide. It is com
pressed of three thicknesses of the cow
skin pressed into a steel mold and then
subjected to a chemical preparation.
It is claimed for it that it is much
lighter, that it lasts longer, and that
split hoofs are never known in horses
asing it. It is perfectly smooth on the
bottom, no calks being required, the
shoe adhering firmly on the most
polished surface. Its elasticity pre
vents many sprains, the horses" steps
being lighter and surer. Straw.treated
with chemicals unknown, has been
used for centuries in Japan.
AYoiiderral Stone.
A man living near Kingston, Ga.,
has found a ; most wonderful stone.
While plowing on a sandbar in the
Etowah Kivar he saw something shin
ing with the most brilliant of lights
just to one side of him. He stopped -
plow and went to pick" it np. It ?
a clear, w,,;e stone the size of a
refl"-i?" ,i one way all tlie c -
f ":" Turning it r ;
.n the character r --.-"-each
other- -
;- .: rfie rock .
Poison in a Pipe.
Few smokers fully realize the dan
ger of smoking new or iiuiiroiwlj
enred baeeo. The medical staff of
the German army discovered this was
a fruitful source of throat disease.
The subsistence department of the
U. S. Army have adopted Seal of
North Carolina Hug Cut as the Stand
ard Smoking Tobacco for the army.
Beware of Imitations. The genuine
"Seal ot North Carolina" costs you no
more than poisonous imitations.
BOOKKEEPING, SHORTHAND,! t LEG BAPH
ENGLISH BRANCHES,
LIFE SCHOLARSHIPS, - $75
Mo Vacations. Day and Evening Sessions.
LADIES ADMITTED IXTO ALL DEPABT JIEXT3.
For further partlcnlrrs address
T. -A- ROBLSTSON, M. A., President.
A M ERICA X EXCHANGE HOTEL Sl.
-il. 3il Hansom et, 8. F., Is the best Family
and Business Men's Hotel In the U. 8. for the
money. Board and room per day, 1, $L25, ft JO.
Free coach w and from hotel.
Chas. aj Wat. afoxTOoarEBT.
PACIFIC STATES
TYPE-FOUNDRY
NEWSPAPER PUBLISHING
HOUSE.
409-11 Washington St, Opposite Post Office,
The favorite Printm Snnnlr Hmw .
Pacific Coast. Prompt, Square and Pro
Kicssive. Stock complete, representing the
latent and bet of the Eastern Market. Ttjk
and Role all on the Point System. No obso
lete styles.
PACIFIC COAST 1GEXTS FOB
Conner's V. S. Type Foondrr, New York.
Barnhardt's G. W.Type Foundrv, Chicago.
Becton, Waldo & Co'i Self-Spacing Type.
Babcock Cylinders,
Colt s .g-njory Imp'd. Universal, 1
Chandler and Price Gordon Presses, Z
Economic Paper Cotter. . '
bimons' Cases and Fnrnitore, V
Gelding's Presses and Tool. v
Keystone Qnoms. j
r-age's Wood Type, f
Inks and Rollers,
PUBLISHERS OF
NEW8PAPER8 ON THE HOME PLAN.
Complete Outfits and the Smallest nrArr
meet with the same carefril attri rnnrnnt
attention. Specimen books maiied on appli
cation. Address all orders to
HAWKS & SHATTUCK,
09 Washington St.,
San Francisco.
MONEY!
Can he made easy br
raising Chickens. Onr
large 33-page. Illus
trated Catalogue teiis
all about IucubaUrs.
Brooders what to feed
chickens. In fact all
all the secrets of the
chicken business. If
you only keep half a
dosen hens you need
this book. It gives
more Information
than many of the
books sold at 25 cents
We send It free ou re
ceipt of t cents to pay
poeiage.
FETALIMA
IXOPIUTJS C).,
Petal am a, CaL
CAUTION
FRUITGROWERS ! !
It has come to the knowledge of the L
X. Ii. COMPOUND COMPANY that nn
attempt to float an imitation of the I. XXi.
COMPOUND in your midst, will be made.
See that yon receive the material direct
from the local agent who holds the rp
pointnaent from this company, and that
eaeh package is marked a coming from
the I. X. Ii. COMPOUND COMPANY, 218,
California street, room 5.
Per Order
I. X. L. COMPOUND C0MPA5Y.
ELECTRIC LUSTRE STARCH
Saves lots of work. 10c a package or $5.50 a case
of GO packages. It Is the best yet and no mis
take. Reckets Bine If you have- tried you still
want It tor use or for sale, it loads them all, So
ox., 40c lb. or $3.00 a dox of 8 pounds.
Empire Wringer neer fails to giye satisfaction "
quality the same as 30 years ago, prica reduced ,
to M cash Cheaper wringers from $2.25 up.
Becker Washers for long use and satisfactory
results prove the best SIS and $12. The Hum
boldt too Is sure to please $7.t0.
Poor mans soap, full weight, will lead alt others
for laundry purposes, 16.50 per 100 lbs. $1.40 pel
box. Over 100 grades of soap in store, Mo box u
Svppty yourself with the above articles and
wash day mil be the pleasantest day of the
wnoieweek. You will smile, the children wil
laugh and the men folks will almost roar r"
delight. They are all to be had at
SMITH'S CASH STORE,
Store 418 Front 8t., S. F, CaL
Ask for full list of 5030 arthjles.
BLAKE, M0ITITT & TOWNS
: latPCBTEKS AXO DEAUEB3 IS
BOOK, NEWS, WRITING AND WRAPPINC
OP JL JP T -Ii 3
Card Stock, Straw and Binders' Hourt
Patent JIacl.lne m.Klo Bags;
S12 to 518 Sccramcnto St Sis r&A ,i eo--
TREE WASH.
Powdered 93 1I 00 Caastie Soda.
Por Canutie Soda. Commercial Fotaffh, etc -SHEEP
WAS II.
Calvert's Carbolic. For sale by T. W. Jack
son 4s Co., 8ole Agents, 104 Market St., San Fran -
clsoo. . - . .
ELfcU INSTRUMENTS
Hrtory Bunding 723 market ST. SmFrmeno
R. HALL'S
Pulmonary Balsam.
- A. Superior Bemedy for all
TTIR0AT AND IUXG TROUBIES ,
ASTHMA.' C0rHS. COLDS. CROC1
FLCENZA, BROXOniTlS. WHOC ' '
COUlill. LOSS OP VOICE, no.v - - .
KESS ASD INCIPIENT f..,
SUMPTION, . ,-. '
Readily yield to Its K
60 CENTS.'.
ATES St (- 7
(
112 1 i AZJL