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the old sronr.
B<* cams the meadow pass
Tint summer eve of ever,
Tl»o sunlight streamed along the gvaai
And glanced amid the leaves;
And from the shrubbery below,
And from the garden trees,
Be heard the thrush's music flow
And humming of the bees.
The garden gate was swung apart,
The space was brief between,
But, there, for throbbing of his heart,
He paused perforce to lean.
Be loan'd upon the garden gate;
He look'd, and scarce he breathed;
Within the little porch she sate,
With woodbine overwreatlied.
Her eyes upon her work were bent,
Unconscious who was nigh;
But oft the needle slowly went,
And oft did idle lie.
And ever to her lips arose
Sweet fragments faintly sung;
But ever ero the notes could close
She hushed thonTon her tongue.
Oh I beauty of my heart, he said,
Oh l darling, darling mine,
Was ever light of evening abed
On loveliness liko thine V
Why should I ovor leave this spot?
But gnsto until I die !
A moment from that bursting thought
Bho folt his footsteps nigh.
One sudden lifted glance—but one—
A tremor and a start;
So gently was thejr greeting done,
That who would guess their heart?
Long, long, the sun had sunken down,
And ail his golden trail
Had died away to lines of bro wn
In duskier hues that fail.
The grasshopper was chirping shrill—
No other living sound
Accompanied the tiny rill
That gurgled underground;
No other living sound unless
Some spirit bout to hear
Low words of human tenderness
Ami mingling whispers hear.
—Irish Song .
MllS. CLIFFORD’S MISTAKE.
[From Arthur's Homo Magazine.]
“Oh, dear 1”
It was a sigh of weariness, and poor,
tired Mrs. Clifford sank for a moment
into a luxurious easy-cliair. Perhaps I
should not say “poor.” Her hus¬
band waB called by his friends “oom
tortably well off.” Tired, she certainly
was. From dawn till dark her feet must
be in every place, her hands must toil
and toil that there be no cream nor jar
in the household machinery. Kitchen
girls she had tried, but they jjnly
brought extra care, she eaid, and she
was glad to bo independent. To-day
had been unusually busy aud the parlor
had been left undusted till afternoon.
That was why she 1 happened in while
her daughter’s city friends were there.
Of course she had hastily retreated.
Close by the door stood that inviting
chair, and for once Mrs. Clifford yielded
to her longing for rest. She could hear
the gay voices in the other room, but
took no notice of them till Izzie ex¬
claimed, lightly:
“Oh, that was only the woman who
works for us. She did not know any
one was here. What were you saying
about the bride, Madge ?”
And then the talk flowed on as before,
broken now and then by a ripple of
laughter. Mrs. Clifford heard no more.
She forgot her pain and weariness; she
forgot the pile of sewing awaiting her
in another room. Like a flash her miud
traveled back nearly a score of years.
Izzie and Reba were babies again, and
she was a proud young mother. Her
husband’s means wero limited, but they
must wear the finest embroideries, and
by denying herself every luxury and
many comforts she conld keep'them
clothed as she wished. They were early
given the nicest tid-bits at the table, and
what wonder if they soon looked npon
mother’s share of good things as their
own? They were pretty Bhe’ children, and
&s they grew older prided herself
npon keeping them daintily dressed.
To be sure, this involved sacrifice on
her part. She had loved books, but it
took so much time to read these musf
be given up “for the children’s sake. ”
Bbe must ait up late nights to sew; she
must wear her cloak the third win lei
and hare her beat dreart made over o»»e«
more, in order that Izzie might lmv«
that charming hat with plumca or Rebc
the bead trimming she so much desired,
Did they help about the work ? Oh I
no. At first she could not bear to have
them soiling their clothes in the kitchen,
besides hindering her. Later, they were
too busy with studies or practice or some
rehearsal. girl
JBy the time they reached young
hood, her husband’s income warranted
the best teachers, and they, being quick
and bright, did credit to their instruc
tors. His income also warranted her
many hours of leisure; but alas ! so long
had she livea “for the children” that it
seemed impossible to make any change.
Nobody could do up the muslins or pre¬
pare food like mother.
Her husband had long since ceased to
look to her for intellectual companion
ship. It was the girls, with whom he
talked science and politics. When he
wanted music they played and sang If
ho went to a lecture or a concer hey
accompanied him. Her own mission
seemed fulfilled in a well-cooked meal
or nicely ironed shirt.
What a mistake , she had made ! It
rushed upon her now, as she sank back
into the easy-cliair with those words
ringing all sorts of changes over and over
in her ears: “The woman who works
for us! the woman who works for us 1”
But the callers must have gone. The
outer door has opened aud shut, aud
hark 1 .the girls are talking again. It is
Reha's voice:
“Oh, Izzie ! how could you ?”
“I know it was perfectly awful, but
what could I do ? If mother would only
dross decently and get used to society,
we should not have to be ashamed of her
when any one comes. It’s all her own
fault.”
Ashamed of her! The children who
had cost her so miVuy wakeful nighta^^p,
many anxious thouglfts, ashamed of lie?!
Mrs. Clifford room/ tiipj mechanically and
went to her There she did some
thing very unusual for her. She spent
at least five minutes gazing at her own
reflection in the glass. Not a prepossess
ing figure, certainly. Her dress, a plain
oalioo, guiltless of even a collar; her
hair combed straight back, twisted in
the smallest possible knot at the back of
her head, and the face—could that be
the face that had once been called beau
tiful ? No wonder the woman heaved a
sigh, as she saw how faded and wrinkled
it had become.
^ As she gazed a resolute look came into
the.graj “Ashamed eyes. aud fault!
yf me, my own
They shall'fcever have occasion to say
that again.” *
A quick knock sounded at her door.
“Oh. mother! Miss Tebbits has sent
home my polonaise, and the trimming
is all wrong. Won’t you change it to.
night? I must have it to wear to Mattie
Dyer’s to morrow, you know.”
Mrs. Clifford dared not trust herself
to face the girl.
“You will have time to change it your¬
self, Reba. I am going to the lecture,
and some one must remain at home. ”
There was a moment of amazed
silenoe, then retreating footsteps. After
ward she heard Reba’s surprised, “What
do you think will happen next?
Mother’s going to the lecture !”
Idr. Clifford, when he came home,
was no less surprised than his daughters
had been, but there was a pleased look
ou hi® face it did her good to see.
Still, her heart almost Wiled her when
she oameio review her scanty wardrobe.
black sdk was st.U good, though a
little old-fashioned. But her bonnet
aud gloves and that cloak! No, she
could not mortify her husband by wear
big them. She must stay at home.
A rustle outside of her door, a tap,
and tfie two girls fluttered in.
“Now, mother, we are just going te
fix you ourselves. Bit right down and
let mo arrange your hair while Izzi«
puta that dark plume on her bonnet in
place of the bright one. My eaahmere
shawl is exactly what you waut, and
her glovea will tit you to a T. How the
girls will open their eyes when they see
what a handsome mother we’ve got!”
And Mrs. Clifford could scarcely keep
the tears from falling as Bbe thought:
“it was my own fault They have been
thoughtless and selfish only because I
taught them to be.”
Ready at last. The carriage had not
y e ^ come, and they waited for a moment
in hall—she and her husband. How
the old gi^h blnshea would come as
bo B fo 0pe( i an d kissed her! Then he
softly whispered:
“You look just as you did twenty
yearB ago, Mary. I’m so glad to have
my little wife back again.”
I need not add that the evening was a
thoroughly enjoyable one.
Next morning there was a council of
three in the back parlor. Mrs. Clifford
atated that she must have more time for
society aud mental improvement. She
could hire help but it would be better
{or ad collcernet i for Izzie aud Reba to
learn something of housekeeping.
Izzie held up her fair white hands and
aBked how they would look playing the
piano> covered with scars and potato
gtainSt Reba didu » fc g0e how they could
p ogs jhly find time, they had so much to
do a ] rea( ] y>
Mrs. Clifford stood firm, and the coun
c il ended in the kitchen with the two
girls washing the breakfast dishes.
During the next few weeks there were
some merry times in that kitchen, but
more trying ones. Reba would be
elated beyond measure over a well
browned loaf of bread, while Izzie was in
despair over a well-browned shirt
bosom. Izzie displayed with
pride the shining silver her hands
had polished, while Reba hid the shin
iug napkins o^r which she had upset
the gravy boat. Such is the inconsis
of lntchen perfection.
More than onob the mother
abandoning her plans. It would bo so
much easier to do it all herself. But
she possessed the gift of perseveran „ a,
and after awhile the household maohin
e ry moved on as smoothly as ever, and
much more easily now that there were
six hands instead of two to turn the
wheels. Parlor company no longer
wondered where the mother was, and
the daughters grew more delighted every
day with her whose acquaintance they
were just forming,
One day Mrs. Clifford had a sick
headache. Three months before she
could not have afforded the luxury of a
sick day. Now she could dismiss all
care—for a season *at least. I will not
say she did not feel some anxiety when
she learned at noon that her husband had
brought a “business friend from the
West” home to dinner. But everything
WO at on as well as if she had presided,
The girls had been as apt pupils in the
kitchen as at the school.
Mr. Taft, the business friend, was a
young man. He was cultured and
wealthy, but he had some very old
fashioned notions about young womon
being unfit to preside over homes of
their own before learning something of
housework. He enjoyed Tzzie’s sing
j n g alu | praised her painting, but he
afterward declared it was her cooking
that first attracted him. At any rate,
business obliged him to visit Carlisle
very frequently after that, and at last
he carried Izzie back to be the queen
•>fhis Western home.
Reba still lives with her parents. She
»«*» no one can persuade her to leave
“ moth e r . Eumo r
££ a oert am parsonage will
“ receivc her . However that maJ
Ci! fi 0 r d rejoices that eho di B -
'; , OVcHe ^ Ler mista ke in time to rectify it
, eg
^ bome *
j^ia A. Tibrell.
-‘
f.miifof ‘ton^rTN.‘IL i.ooin Gently
fo
and found only 29 with copies of the
Bible. He sold C29 copies and gave
away 107.
I)I<*a<!vanffl«r* ^eing *
Mr. B. P. Shillaber (“Mrs. Parting¬
ton”)* relates the following the Hartford in one of Post: his
Boston letters to
the mass of commodities cut
down to meet popular necessity I saw it
Btated that a well-known tailor was pre¬
paring to make a like sacrifice with re
gard to his goods, The announcement
amused me, as it recalled an incident of
my early experience in connection with
this very tailor. It was advertised that
a suit of clothes, nicest fabric, could be
had of Buckram, Twist & Co. for $28.
Here was a grand chance for one of lim¬
ited means who needed some good
clothes, and I followed the advertise¬
ment, in the capacity of patron, to very
spacious quarters. I was cordially re¬
ceived by the gentlemanly Buckram,
shown the best goods in his store, duly
measured and booked fox the suit by
the next Saturday. Upon going to re¬
ceive my finery I was told that the
maker bad disappointed them, and asked
delay till the following Saturday, which
I granted. The next Saturday 1 deemed
here conld be no failure, and went ex
'ectantly to get my clothes. Buckram
as confused, but told me a story of new
faculties he had been called to eneouter,
ud again begged my indulgence. I fig-
-atively patted him on the back with a
.othing intimation that he needn’t ery
bout it, and let it go for another week.
Ibis time I called and was simply told
they were not done. ‘Well,’ said I, 'do
you think they ever will be?’ He
frankly told me ‘No.’ ‘Do you not in¬
tend to do as you advertise, and make a
suit for $28? ’ ‘Not for a mastodon,*,
was his lofty reply, and I turned away
sorrowing, for I weighed 185. And he
is to-day suiting the times.”
Floating Homes.
“As we approach Canton,” writes a
Chinese correspondent of the Home
Journal, “one of the Strangest sights of
this strange land is the vas^ wilderness
of boats which serve as the only homes
of a floating population of more than one
hundred thousand human beings. As
our steamer made its way slowly through
the city of boats to her wharf, it seemed
as if half of Canton was afloat on the
water. All around us were acres on acres
—yes, square miles—of junks, moored
in blocks and squares, with long streets
or canals between them; while darting
hither and thither were hundreds on
hundreds of others carrying passengers
or freight. These boats are of various
sizes and shapes, and are partly covered
with bamboo matting, the one or two
apartments furnishing space for parlor
kitchen, dining-room, bedroom, wood¬
shed, barn, and idol-shrine. There mul¬
titudes of men and women, parents and
children, grandparents and babies, find
a home, each boat often sheltering more
9ouls than Noah had in his ark. There
thousands are born, grow up, grow old
and die, seldom being on land until car¬
ried there for burial. Many of these,,
boats are manned by women and girls,
whose large, unbound feet prove that
they are not ‘Chinese ladies;’ and yet
they have learned to ‘paddle their own
eanoe.’ Babies are fastened to the deck,
by strings; and other children wear life
preservers of gourds or bamboo to keep
them from sinking, if they fall over¬
board, though the parents don’t seem to
grieve much if one does get drowned.
There are larger and more gavly decor¬
ated junks called ‘flower-boats,’ used as
floating pleasure-houses of no good rep¬
utation. A few years ago a typhoon
swamped thousands of these small craft,
and hundreds of the inmates were
drowned.”
A genti ^an who Vlfilt * d a rol * r ’
skating rink and attempted to partici
P ate iu the P leasures > sa ? 8 the ’ dea oi
fastening a pair of skates on tbe feet is
the queerest Dotion in the world ’ be :
cause tbe * eet were only poriidn oi
his anatomy that didn t touch the flooi
oftener than one Inning in ten.