THE HELLS OF LYNN. [Temple Bar.] When the eve is growing gray, and the tide is rolling in. I sit and look across the bay to the bonny town of Lynn; And the fisher folks are near, But I wish they never hear The songs the far bells make for me, the bonny bells of Lynn. INTO THE UNFORGOT­ TEN LAND. interrupting her; “sit down, please; I've something to tell you.” She sat down and he told her altout. Jiie’z death and his reading of lr r letter. He could not reach the necessary pajiers for a day or two, he said, and in the course of a week would bo obliged to visit Jersey City; if agreeable, he would be happy to wait upon her there. “Taught by tears and calmed by time,” there was little more said on either side. Mrs. Okill was summoned and chattered for about fifteen minutes, after which her brother-in- law atteuded Miss Southmayd to the little rose-banked station, pressed her hand, and bade her good-bye. Miss Southmayd’s parlor was not gorgeous; it was simply a cozy nook in which to do or to dream great or lovely things. Sitting there, with roseate lights and violet shadows flitting over face and figure, “Empress Ermyntrude’s” heart beat true, but she was on her guard against this much-married lover. Not so he. Seeing her still so rarely beau­ tiful, so like the queen of life’s unforgotten May, memory failed to produce a record of the hard and bitter things written and sealed against her; later loves and ties were ignored, and, although self-controlled and apparently cool and at east», he felt the passion of that earlier, better day blossoming redly in Ins heart. They parted as they ha 1 met, old acquaint­ ances; that, seemingly, vias all. It was, nevertheless, odd what a vast amount of “red ta|ie'’ Mr. Okill managed to wind about this bit of business. It became necessary he should call again. During this interview, he dashed into the subject nearest his thoughts and heart in a manner which might strike one as abrupt, awkward, but “very human.” “I think I never saw you look so well in anything as you did that evening in the red dress. ” She knew to what he alluded. They had quareled over a dress, which, when she dis­ played it in triumph as the one she was to wear at a coming party, he said would “extinguish” her; it was too much the color of her hair and eyes. One word brought an­ other, finally she flashed out: “If the way I dress don’t suit your lordship, perhaps I don’t suit you either, and we may as well break our engagement.” “As you please,” he had replie 1, 1 -ftily. Two days afterward they met at the party and did not speak, so the affair became com­ mon property. Following close this heart­ tragedy came the Southmavds’ removal, and that seemed to be the end of love’s young dream. “You mistake,” she replied; “it was not red, it was cinnamon-brown. They would call it terra-cotta now.” There was a moment’s silence. Each had opened the page of life’s past and was reading their stories with strained, pained hearts and eyes. They stood near the breeze haunted bay­ window, over which a woodbine strung her scented garlands. Somewhere, a swee - voicedgirl sang “Home, Sweet Home.” When the last note died lingeringly on the summer air, Arthur spoke: “Nor is there in life anything so sweet as the honey of young love. One may roam the world over, drinking at every spring; might even banquet with the gods, and never find, nor hope to find, such nectar as ho first drank from love’s golden clialise.” Errnyntrude, gathering some fallen white and creamy blossoms, murmured something about flowers that never freshen, and they s U mx I in silence again, looking into the unfor­ gotten land of youth. — (“Madge Carrol” in Arthur’s Magazine.] Arthur Okill sat in his deceased friend’s office, perusing, in the capacity of executor an epistle directed to Joseph luiuX, and signed Errnyntrude Southwayd. Although The folks are chatting gay, and I hear their addressed familiarly ‘ ‘Dear Joe,” and over­ merry din, flowing with sentimental reminiscences, it But I look and look across the bay to the was a business, not a love letter, else he would bonny town of Lynn; not have read it. It appeared that the He told me to wait here writer’s father left Thornton twenty years Upon the old brown pier, previous, owing Joe—who had then just en­ To wait and watch Into coming when the tide tered man’s estate—money for house rent. was rolling in. Having but recently discovered this fact, the Oh, I see him pulling strong, pulling o’er the lady, being now possessed of considerable bay to me, property, desired in justice to pay both And I hoar his jovial song, and his merry principal and interest. face I see; Such was the sum and substance of this And now he’s at the pier. letter, read in the golden after-glow of one of My bonny love and dear! And he's coming up the sea*washed steps with June’s fairest days. There was, however, hand outstretched to me. one line over which Arthur Okill pondered seriously. It ran thus: O my love, your cheek is cold, and your hands “The story so sweetly begun and so sadly are stark and thin! Oh, bear you not the bells of okl, the bonny broken off under that roof you know well.” Yes, of course, Joe Laux knew. When bells of Lynnf queenly Errnyntrude Southmayd broke her Oh, have you naught to say Upon our wedding day ! engagement with Arthur Okill, all the gos­ Love, hear you not the wedding bells across sips in the village got hold of this racy bit of the Bay of Lynn! news and rolled it like some toothsome morsel 0 my lover, speak to me! and hold me fast, under their tongues. The elders remembered it to this day, although the discarded lover mine own! For I fear this rising sen, and these winds and had at different times honorably wooed and waves that moan! won two of their daughters and had buried them, and children with them, under^the red But never a word he sai l! and white clover bloom in Thornton’s little He is dead, my love is dead! Ah me! ah me! I did but dream; and I am all green graveyard. Folks seldom forget things of this sort. More’s the pity. From aloue— Alone, and old, and gray; and the tide is his rose-draped window he could see across rolling in; the way the moss-embroidered eaves under But my heart’s away, away, away, in the old which they parted so sadly and so coldly long graveyard at Lynn! ago. Since that memorable evening he had SOJOURNER TRUTH'S SAYINGS. written all sorts of hard and bitter things against this beautiful, imperious creature, Iler Powerful Outburat at a Woman's and had closed and sealed the pages time and again, only to open them once more and re­ Itiglita Convention, write, although for nearly twenty years her [Chicago Tribune. ] step had never crossed his path. Mrs. Frances D. Gage has recorded light Now at last, as the day died in amber reds one of Sojourner Truth's impressive along the gentle slopes of Thornton, he fell outbursts on the public platform in the to reading between these fiery lines penned “History of Woman Suffrage.” It was with his heart’s b«st blood, and to wondering at a woman’s rights convention at Akron, whether if he had but refused to have taken Ohio, in 1851. During its sessions old that rash girl at her word she would not have Sojourner—for she was 80 years of age been touched and have melted like wax under then—“sat crouched against the wall love’s indomitable flame. Sitting there in on the corner of the pulpit stairs, her the crimson and amber sun-glow, with white sun-bonnet shading her evts, her el­ and pink rose-leaves floating in at the open bows on her knees, her chin resting on window like scented, tinted snowflakes, he her broad, hard palms.” Few dared wished, vaguely, that this thought had oc­ to have her speak, many implored curred to him then, and that he had acted it. As it was, it was too late. Even Mrs. Gage, who was president upon the asbes of that old love were scattered. He of the convention, to prevent her would sooner expect to behold those whom from speaking. They didn’t want he hail kissed and laid away come forth in their cause “mixed with the abolitionists fleshy habiliments than to find that and niggers.” But the timecame when annihilated passion clothed anew and dwell­ Sojourner Truth felt it borne in upon ing in his bosom. her to speak : “She moved slowly to “What in the world are you doing?” ex­ the front, laid her old bonnet at her claimed Mrs. Seth Okill, opening the door of feet, and turned hergreat speakingeyes the office from her parlor adjoining. “I to me.” Hisses came from the audience. thought you were going out.” “No, I’m attending to a little business,” re­ But she looked the disapproval down. Nearly six feet high, her head was plied her brother-in-law, hurriedly seizing some legal documents and making believe to thrown back, and her eyes “pierced the upper air like one in a dream.” At her look them over. “Say, Cad,” recalling her she was about retiring, “you remember first words there was a profound hush. as the Southmay ds, don’t you?” She spoke in deep tones, though not “To be sure I do. What was that beauti­ loud, which reached every ear in the ful daughter’s name? Glenwood? Elfen- house. Here are some of the words she hood? No, that don’t sound like it either.” said, and they will show how powerful “Try Errnyntrude,” suggested Arthur, and original a character was this full- drily. The Hairpin Craze, blooded African woman, and how justi­ “Sure enough! Errnyntrude. I used to [Milwaukee Journal.] fied her fame was: name all my prettiest dolls after her. Nice “A crank.” “Dat man ober dar say dat womin family, but awful poor and proud, weren’t “What breed?” need to be helped into carriages and they? What about them?” “A very common one just at this time. “She’s written to Joe from Jersey City, He’s a hairpin crank.” lifted ober ditches, and to hab de bes’ and is coming to see him on business. ” place eberywhar. Nobody eber helps “What do you mean?” “Poor Joe! And he dead and buried this me into carriages or ober mud piles, or “Why, simply what I said It’s a new two weeks! ” sighed Cad Okill. “ She ’ s craze that has struck all in a heap those pecu­ gibs me any lies' place!” And raising pretty old now, isn’t she? I’m twenty-eight, liarly rattle-pated individuals who have been herself to her full height and her voice and she was grown up when I was a little wont to burn the midnight lamp composing a to a pitch like rolling thunder, she girl.” sonnet to my mistress’ eyebrows. As the asked, “And a’n’t I a woman? Look at “She’s thirty-nine,” replied Okill, running small boy used to gather postage stamps and my arm ! ’ (and she bare I her right arm Ids shapely fingers through his own thickly to the shoulder, showing her tremen­ powdered hair and beard, wondering the the wee girl fill up her button-strong, so do tender-hearted youths collect hairpins. dous muscular ]>ower.) “I have plowed while how “Empress Ermyntrude’s” rare these They watch the ladies as they pass along the and planted, and gathered into Irarns, auburn braids stood the test of time. streets, at parties, balls, and in stores on “Thirty-nine and not married!” exclaimed shopping excursions, and when a hairpin and no man could head me. And a’n’t I woman ? I could work as much and Mrs. Okill, as if compassing the round of works loose and falls to the ground or floor eat as much as a man—when I could get human misery. “Is she after our dear old it is quickly picked up, the lady’s name it—and bear the lash as well. And bachelor Joe?” discovered if possible, and the hairpin, “Nonsense! You know all about Joe’s love properly labeled, therewith goes to swell a’n’t I a woman ? I have borne thirteen affairs. Any way, she always held her head the collection. The bolder of the hairpin chilern, and seen ’em inos’ all sold off to slavery, and when I cried out with my too high for such as In, or, indeed, any one, collectors will succeed in picking a loose for that matter. Now that she’s rich, she one from a lady’s back hair without her mother’s grief none but Jesus heard me. doubtless holds it higher yet.” knowing it. I was invited the other evening And a’n’t I a woman ? “Yes, I recollect, she was called the Em­ “Den dey talks ’bout dis ting in de press, wasn't she? She was so beautiful and to inspect a collection of these relics of beauty head—what dis dey call it? (“Intel­ seemed to be so grand, I really thought she gathered together by a Seventh ward young He had 300 of them, and they all bore lect,” whispered some one near.) Dat’s ruled a kingdom, and often wished 1 could man. the naniG of the charming wearers, it, honey. What’s dat got to do will slip into the house and see her crown and including all the changes of fore womin’s rights or nigger’s rights ? If throne. When is she coming?” and aft on the name Smith, from “To-morrow noon.” my cnp won’t hold but a pint and yourn Arabella to Zola, and from plain Smith, The morrow's mid-hour found Miss South­ to Schmith and Smyth. One of the pins, my holds a quart, wouldn’t ye lie mean not mayd alighted at the pretty vine engarlanded to let mi' have my little half measure delectable companion informed me, was from full ? Den dat littlo man in black, dar station, and rapidly pursuing her way toward the head of one of the leading society belles the well known intersecting streets, on one —he says womin can't have as much of the city, and cost him $5 to secure it, a rights as mon, because Christ wa’nt a corner of which was Joe’s office, and upon rival collector having obtained the precious another the rambling, tree-girdled structure trophy and sold out to him.” woman ! Whar did your Christ come she once called home. “What do they do with them?” from?” Bolling thunder could not Despite the changes nearly twenty years “The same as the boy did with his postage have stilled that crowd as did those had wrought, “Empress Ermytrude,” al­ deep, wonderful tones, as she stood though she pulled her gray traveling veil stamps, or the girl with her button-strings— there with outstretched arms and eyes over her face, half determined neither to see keep them to look at and to admire. The craze* has just struck the west. It originated of tiro, liaising her voice still louder, nor lx» seen, recognized a familiar residence among the dudes of Boston about a year ago, she repeated: " Whar did your Christ and bit of woodland green and emerald and has just arrived. In all prolmbility it come from? From God and woman! sward. She had not come with any intention will die out in a single season, «as it seems too Man had nothin' to do wid him!” of remaining even for one day. There were foolish to endure long.” painful memories connected with the Makes ’Em Rewpect a Man. place other than those interwoven with Heath on a Vale Horae. [ Rockland Courier-Gazette. ] “love’s young dream.” Then, too, there was [New York Cor. Chicago Journal. | “What's this Dead Scott decision about.3 “Death is on a pale horse, racing really no one she cared or dared see, except­ queried Mrs. Wigglesworth, looking up from right alongside of Foie," said a man at ing Joe Laux. The remaining member of the the paper. “Dread Scott—not Dead Scott,” only family whose acquaintance she had kept my elbow. We were at the Brighton up removed some three months previous, and corrected Mr. Wigglesworth, with a man’s Beach races. were now her neighbors in the city where she patronizing smile of superiority. “Well, The speaker was a physician. Tlio made her home. Dread Scott, then. What is it?” Mr. Wig­ visible horse that he referred to. Foie, Still, strive as she would, bitter-sweet glesworth was stuck, but he looked wise. was the property of Freddie Gebhardt, memories crowded in upon her, and when at “Something to do with the Mexican war,’’ he the Langtry-famous young man, and length she met Arthur Okill face to face, hers explained. “Gen. Scott, you know, was a was winning the race. was rapt, dewed like that of a rose in the terrible fighter, and the Greasers got to refer- ing to him as the Dread Scott. Some decision “What do you mean about seeing flush of dawn. The ripe, red lips still disclosed their seed­ or other he made about a battle is what the Death as a rider in this run?” I asked. “Simply that he is contesting with pearl rosary; there was no thread of silver papers mean.” Mrs. Wigglesworth, with a the jockey who is mounted on F.ole," among those chestnut braids, no trace of a satisfied air, folded the paper back and was the reply. “That fellow's name is wrinkle on those rounded cheeks. While far turned to see if any new people had been while Mr. Wigglesworth winked to McLaughlin, you say? Well, I was younger women, such as Cad Okill, aged un­ born, der the matrimonial yoke, and “child-birth himself at his having got out of it so smoothly. over at the weighing stand when ho pain left its traces on heart anti brain,” she “All a woman needs,” he mentally remarked, was preparing to ride. A jockey has retained her splendid health, and, “is to have a thing explained one way or an­ to be a light-weight, for horse owners although she had earned her bread and met other. Don't matter what you tell ’em, so don't care to weigh down their beasts. many trials, was even more regally beautiful long as it’s something. It’s a mighty sight This u a dreadfully cold day. We're than in the olden time. In early maidenhood easier than having to answer a hundred ques­ shivering in thick overcoats, with the critics had pronounced her “too fat and too tions. Makes 'em inspect a man,’ too” collars turned tip. McLaughlin has red.” The tendency of over-ripeness had California Cotton Raising. nothing on under his thin silk jacket. been checked, that tropical richness of color­ [Chicago Herald] He hasn't allowed himself an extra ing toned down, and criticism on that score Cotton raising in southern California has pound in flannels. To all intents he is was disarmed. “Arthur!” she cried, not flushing in the not proved as profitable as was expected, and exposed naked, not only to the low th« chief trouble seems to be inefficient labor temperature, but to the tremendous least, yet with all the light of her countenance and its high price. Most of the planters en­ wind made by tho speed of tho race. dying out and a strange gloom overshadow- gaged Chinese to do the work for them, but Every time he rides unclothed like that, the warm, brown eyes. one season’s experience has proved that, “Errnyntrude!” exclaimed he. ho takes a big risk of pneumonia. That's while the Chinaman demands almost as much One instant these two, who had wrecked for his work as the white man. he cannot why I say that Death is running a pale horse by his side, and is just as likely each other’s hope, clasped hands, and eye met pick one-third the amount of cotton. A num­ eye in searching, yearning gaze; then the lady ber of negro’s are to is? engaged to take the as not to beat him to-day.” said, quietly enough outwardly: place of the Celestials. “This is an unexpected meeting. I regret Arkansaw Traveler: liar's some lit­ being so pressed for time; I am obliged to Among the 50,000 postmasters in the United tle truth eben in do bigges* lie, oben seem abrupt. I came to see Joe on a matter StaU*. t&,000 a year is the highest salary, ef it is no more den de fack dat it is a of business. Is—” and 5 cents the lowest. There are forty­ lie. “I know, I know,” replied Arthur Okill seven who receive fl a year salary. RURAL ENGLAND. CO.1LWC.V/N.1/ IN BUS3U. THE PRISONER'S TASK Till: GOVERNMENT OF THE “Milt’—WHY Hearty Old Fashioned Politeness and Frosh Unaffected Country Girls. (London Letter in New York Sun.] Almost the first thing you are told when you take up your temporary residence in Blankshire, is that your comments must be guarded and your conversation diplomatic, as all the families within a visiting radius of twenty miles are related to each other. And so they are, for a death puts all the country­ side in mourning, while a wedding calls < >ut universal sympathy. Along the route of the bridal cortege, every cottage or farm house hangs out its little decoration, and in the town every tradesman has his flag, his bunch of flowers, or his bit of bunting, for has he not catered for the wants of the young couple from their christening upward? Visitorsand invitations promptly flow in upon the new comer with a hearty old-fash­ ioned politone*. Dinner jiarties are not pop­ ular. In the summer other gatherings are preferred; and in winter or autumn the male portion of the community, the men who have been shooting and hunting for seven or eight hours, refuse to don the tail coat and white tie and drive ten miles for a ceremonious meal. Moreover, coachmen and grooms, bard worked by their attendance on the ex­ acting hunter (meaning the quadruped), turn crusty at being kept out till the small hours for social duties, although they are oyer rearly to turn out at 1 a. m. when it is ne­ cessary to ride eighteen miles to be at a meet for club hunting at 5 in the morning. The girls—the strong, fresh, healthy, un­ affected girls of Blankshire—seem to exist on lawn tennis, with an occasional trial at cricket, in which manly sport they are no mean adepts. But tennis is the inevitable, the universal, the all-engrossing game. In front of the low, broad, many-windowed, creeper-grown houses of the gentry, spread the well-kept lawns, smooth as carpets, soft and springy as moss, and across their green expanse are stretched as many nets as the accurate measurement of the courts will allow. There from morning till sunset the balls fly, sent over by strong, supple wrists while the air echoes to reiterations of the tennis slang. The men of all ages and de­ nominations are clad in their flannels, and, like the girls, wear the flat India rublier soled shoe, for on no account must the ad­ mirably kept turf be cut up. While the game progresses the strangel's and the non­ players are plied with tea and the thonest of bread and butter. At no hour between 3 and 6 can you pay a visit in the country without the neat silver service being brought in, and the ri’es of 5 o’clock tea complied with. Then you are shown over the house by the kind hostess, and gladden her soul by genuine admiration of the rare bits of china, the quaint-carved balusters of oaken staircases, odd recesses, curious old engravings, older and more curious books in gigantic bindings and colossal type. Among these, in strange dis­ sonance, and yet unmistakably the index to the keynote of courtly minds, shines the red binding of all the peerages and volumes ded­ icated by Burke, Debret and others to tho nobility and gentry. Some are in three volumes, others fat and voluminous like a commercial directory, others only pocket editions of the same. Each family knows its own lineage and descent of every other. What the New Testament was to the old Cov­ enanters, the printed record of his ancestors is to the British landowner—his vade inecum, his guide, his fundamental dogma. Some­ times of two brothers one only figures iu the “Landed Gentry.” The other has lost his claims to appear in the “Livre e said that lost my life for nothing. No: 1 a conquered! No; I 8^aT-n°r «illnd No; I am not a coward! No:l lie a minute longer on the damp ■ of the dungeons! No;, society not get the better of me! ’ And the prisoner died dnr'*.- night, vanquished like Brutus, gr Millionaire Flood, of San Francisco, is about to begin the erection of what he says will lie the handsomest and most costly private residence in the I nited States. It will be of brown stone brought from eastern quaTries, and the cost when completed is esti­ He had died of an heroic indigas«* mated at $3,500,000, not including the value of the ground. He had eaten all his straw. [Courier-Journal. ] .1 GORGEOVS SCREEN. Lord Racon's signs of short life are quick New Orleans Times-Democrat. growth, fair, soft skin, soft fine hair, early All the best needle-workers in New corpulence, large head, short neck, small York are engaged on a gorgeous screen mouth, fat ear. brittle, separated teeth. The for the A anderbilt mansion. It is being other signs ar»: Going into a saloon at made at Mr. John La Farge's studio twelve intervals a day. sitting on a railroad under the supervision of Mrs. Tilling! crossing, a.id writing original poetry. Force of Habit. [Milwaukee Sentinel.] Photography is being termine the height of photographers cannot break the habit, aml.when they point hast. The gold thread alone used in eras at the sky they A whaling company with 11,000,000 capital this embroidery cost >30,000. Such a “Now, look pleasant, please, screen as that should cover a multitude Stir.” has been started in San Francisco. of sins.