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Address S. A. Cl NNINGFAM.
WE IIAD SEVER MET!
BY H. tr.
If we had never met,
Our fond, delusive hopes we had not known,
Like spring time blossoms, blooming and half blown
By some rough gust of wind on greensword throw*
In May’s young loveliness.
If we had never met,
I had not felt that Joy almost divine,
To clasp you to my breast and call you mine,
To feel this heart responsive beat to thine,
In love’s first ecstasy.
If we had never met,
That sun which brightens life’s long, weary da ,
Casting o’er throne and hovel each a ray,
Had left my soul ’mid darkened shadows gray,
Unlit by radiance.
If we 3 sad never met,
Far more than t his, ray life, my love, my queen,
This heart f mine had never broken been,
The sorrow ui a parting had not seen,
Nor lifelong loneliness.
Stories and Sketches.
THE FLOWER GIRL.
BY MINNIK HOLBROOK.
u Millicent, Millicent, where is sup
“ God only knows, child.”
There she sat staring into the little
fire on which their last atom of wood
was burning, and seeing in the red ashes
into which the light wood dropped so
quickly, pictures of the past. They had
never been rich people, but always com
Her father was a seafaring man—first
mate of an ocean vessel—and her mother
a tidy housewife, who made everything
bright and cozy. How he used to sit
telling his adventures to them when he
was at home.
He would not have been a sailor bad
there not been sea-serpents and mermaids
in them, but nothing was wonderful for
those loving folk at home to credit; and
indeed be probably believed them him
The rooms had been pretty with shells
and coral branches, and bright parrots
in swinging cages and pictures of ships
upon the wall.
It had been so different from this
wretched place in which the two girls
That was not all; the love was gone,
the tender care that parents have for
The mother lay in her green grave in
a far-off cemetery; and who can point
the place of a shipwrecked sailor’s
She remembered so well how he sailed
away that last time—how she looked
after him, her mother and herself—how
they waited for news, and waited in vain,
until at last there came to them a sailor,
saved from the wreck of the “ Flying
Scud,” who told how she went down in
mid-seas at the dead of the night, ablaze
from one end to the other; and how
Roger Blair, the first mate, was among
After that, poverty and sorrow; de
parture from that dear old home; toil
and a strange city, sickness, friendless
ness, and the crowning woe of all, the
The girl had done her best for her
little sister ever since, but she was not a
skillful needlewoman, and could
rot earn as much as some others;, and
now work had given out altogether, and
she, pretty and sweet and good, and help
ful in a daughterly way about the house,
was not quite sure that she could win
bread for two in any way —bread and
shelter and fire.
She was only seventeen, and a frail
little creature, with very little strength
in her small body, and now that matters
were so bad, who can wonder that she
“I suppose it isn’t quite supper time
yet?” said little Jane aga ; n.
“What shall I do?” said Millicent to
herself, as she looked about the room.
“I have sold everything—the clock, the
books, even mother’s work-box and the
parrot. There is nothing left. The
child will starve before morning. Oh,
what shall I do ?”
She arose and went to the window,
and looked down into the street. It was
dirty and narrow, and swarmed with
Opposite was a little drinking shop,
about which a blind man with a fiddle
drew a profitless audience.
Nothing sweet, or fresh, or pure met
her eye there, butbetween that scene and
herself a sudden breeze blew a beautiful
screen, and there was wafted to her
through the broken glass an exquisite
On the sill without stood a rose in a
She bad picked up the slip among the
rubbish cast out by a neighboring
gardener, and it bad grown well in its
andful of earth.
To-day it had bloomed; a perfect rose,
exquisite in shape, perfume and color,
drooped from one stem, and beside it a
naif-blown bud gave promise of Mother
flower ns lovely.
Until this moment Millicent, in her
arixiety, had forgotten her one treasure.
But for a gentle shower that had fallen
that morning it might have withered
where it stood, for she had not even
watered it. Now a bright thought
flitted through her mind. She had often
seen children selling flowers in the street,
and ladies and gentlemen seemed glad to
buy them. She would force herself to
be courageous. She would go out into
the street with this rose and its bud, and
some one would give her enough to buy
a loaf of bread, or at least a roll for little
She would do it—she would.
She tied on her hood and rapped her
shawl about her, and plucking the
flower and a leaf or two, and that bright
bud, that seemed perhaps the fairer of
the two, bade Jane be good and wait for
her, and went down stairs and out from
the dingy cross street into Broadway.
There every one save herself seemed
gay and happy, and well dressed.
She seemed to be a thing apart —a
black blot in all this brightness.
She stood at a corner and held out her
flowers, but it seemed that no one heeded
At last she gathered courage to touch
one of the ladies that passed, and say:
“ Buy a rose, lady—buy a rose! Please
buy a rose.”
But the woman hurried by as the rest
did. It would not do to stand still.
She walked on slowly. Whenever she
caught a pleasant eye, she held out her
tiny bouquet and repeated her prayer.
“ Buy a rose! buy a rose!”
But the sun was setting, and she was
opposite the City Hall Park, and still no
one had bought her flowers. She was
growing desperate. Some one should
buy it. Jane should have bread that
“Buy a rose! See! Look at it! See
how pretty it is!” she cried, in a voice
sharpened by hunger and sorrow. “ Look!
You don’t look at it, or you’d buy.”
“ These street-beggars should be sup
pressed,” said a stout man she had ad
dressed. “Young woman, I’ll give you
in charge if you don’t behave yourself.”
“He don’t know; he don’t know,”
said Millicent to herself. “ Nobody
could guess how poor we are. Oh, what
a hard, hard world!”
Then she went on, not daring to speak
again, and her rose drooped a little in
her fingers, and still no one seemed dis
posed to buy it.
In her excitement, she had walked
further than she knew. She was far
down Broadway, and before her was
Bowling Green, with its newly-trimmed
grass plot and its silvery fountain.
A little further on the Battery, newly
restored to its pristine glory, and on its
benches some blue-bloused emigrants,
with round, Dutch faces, and tlieir bare
headed wives with woolen petticoats and
little shawls crossed over their bosoms
and knotted at their waist.
As they stared about them, it struck
the girl that they, fresh from the sea,
might be tempted by the fresh, sweet
rose she held in her hand, to spend a few
pennies; but when she offered it to them,
she saw they were more prudent.
They only shook their heads solemnly,
and looked away from her.
And this last hope gone, despair seized
upon Millicent. She sank down upon a
bench and began to weep bitterly. The
twilight was deepening. She was far
from home and little Jane. She was
faint with weariness and hunger. Be
yond the present moment all seemed an
utter blank to her. She covered her
face with her hands; the rose dropped
from her lap unheeded. She cared for
it no more. Fate was against her, that
no one would even buy a beautiful
flower like that from her.
There were steps. She heeded them
not. There were voices. It mattered
not to her. Suddenly some one said:
“What a beautiful rose!”
And the words caught her ear. She
looked up. Three or four seafaring men,
with bundles in their bands, were pass
ing by, fresh from tho ocean evidently,
embrowned with the sun and wind, and
the ship’s roll still in their gait. Sailors
were always generous. One of thjese
would buy the flower. She held it out.
“Buy it, please?” she whispered,
“Please buy this rose?”
“J’m glad to get it,” said a stout
elderly man stepping forward. “What’s
the price, my lass? Will that do?”
He tossed three or four foreign-looking
silver pieces into her lap, and took the
flower. Then looking at her very closely,
he spoke again:
“What’s the trouble, lass? Don’t be
afraid to tell me. I had a little girl of
my own once. She’s dead now. Tell
me, can I help you?”
Millicent looked up. The man’s face
was half hidden by his hat, and he was
stouter and grayer than her father had
been, but she fancied a likeness.
“You have helped me, sir,” she said,
by buying the rose. Thank you very
much. My father was a sailor too; and
he was ship-wrecked.”
“It’s a sailor’s fate,” said the man.
“It’s time you was getting home, lass.
This city is no place for ayoung girl to
Ibe out in after night. But just wait. A
sailor’s orphan has a claim on a sailor,
and my poor little Millicent would have
been about your age if slie bad lived.”
“Millicent!” screamed the girl. “Oh,
my name is Milligent. I’m frightened.
I don’t know what to think. You look
like him—you. I’m Millicent Blair. My
father was Roger Blair. Is it a dream?
It can’t be true. It can’t be father!”
But the next instant he had her in his
arms, and she knew that the sea had
given him back to her.
Wrecked with the vessel, but not lost.
He had been cast upon a desert island,
vhence he escaped, after three weary
years, only to find his little home empty.
The widow had left her little cottage
to earn her living in the city, and news
of her death had been brought back to
old home by some one who had been in
New York died, and who had
either heard or imagined that her chil
dren were dead also.
And the news was told to Roger Blair
bv kindly people who believed it thor
oughly, and had borne it as best he could,
and had sailed the sea again, a weary,
He had not found all his treasures, bu t
that some were spared was more than he
had ever hoped; and the meeting be
tween father and daughter was like that
between two arisen from the dead.
And so the rose bush had done more
for Millicent than she could have
dreamt; and to this day it is the most
cherished treasure in the little home
where the old man lives with his two
daughters; and when once a month, its
blossoms fill the air with their fragrance,
they crowd about it as about the shrine
of some sainted thing, and whisper:
“But for this we should still be
Cultivation of Wheat.
[Detroit Free Press.]
A communication has reached this
office over the signature of A. B. Travis,
of Oakland County, which gives some
interesting statements concerning wheat
culture. Samples of wheat in the sheaf
were sent to illustrate the points made.
He says: “My rotation is wheat,
corn, oats, clover two years and summer
fallow. The sheaf of wheat w r as grown
in a field drilled on September 16th,
1878. Each alternate tooth in the drill
was closed up thus throwing the rows of
wheat fourteen inches apart. About
four pecks of seed was used per acre and
the crop was given a thorough cultiva
tion, once in the autumn and twice in
the spring with a horse wheat hoe, the
work being done at the rate of one acre
per hour. I am satisfied from my ex
perience that the crop cn ordinary soil
may be tlius increased from five to
twenty bushels per acre.
“Pursuing this method I would always
put my seed upon a summer fallow.
Last year a confmittee was selected to
gather, weigh and pass judgment upon
wheat managed differently upon my
place. The soil was similar in two
pieces, but in the one the drills were
eight inches apart and ninety pounds of
wheat sown per acre and no inter-cul
ture employed; while in the other the
drills were sixteen inches apart and
sixty-four pounds of seed sown per acre,
and the grain was cultivated between
the fall and spring. Three samples of
each were taken, equal spaces being
measured off, with the following results:
Test No. 1,16-inch space, cultivated ...S lbs. 4 oz.
Test No. 1, 8-inch space, not cultivated... 2 lbs.
Test No. 2, 16-inch space, cultivated 3 lbs. 2 oz.
Test No. 2, 8-inch space, not cultivated,.l lb. 9 oz.
Test No. 3, 16-inch space, cultivated 2 lbs. 10 oz.
Test No. 3, S-inch space, not cultivated...l lb. 10 oz.
“The committee found that there was a
difference in favor of the broad culti
vated drills, having less seed of sixty
nine and one-third per cent.
“Again, another difference was noted:
In the three samples without culture the
number of heads of wheat was to the
three samples with culture a3 1039 is to
1541, showing that the tilling in the lat
ter case produced more heads than the
increased seed in the former. lam sat
isfied al'O that by cultivating wheat and
thus increasing the number and strength
of the shoots we are doing all we can to
help grain to overcome tne ravages of
the Hessian fly. On strong soils, too, the
stand will be stronger from cultivation
and not so apt to lodge. My experience
has all been in favor of thin sowing and
A Well Governed City.
Paris is the last place a runaway
criminal would wish to go to. Such is
the vigilance of that city’s government
that no rogue can possibly hide there
and no honest man lack protection.
The population, floating or permanent,
of every arondissement or ward in Paris
is counted officially every month. Be
your abode at hotel, boarding-kcuse or
private residence, within forty-eight
hours you are required to sign a register,
giving your name, age, occupation, and
This, within the time mentioned, is
copied by an official ever traveling from
house to house with the big blue book
under his arm. The register gives, also,
the leading characteristics of your per
Penalty attaches itself to host or land
lord who fails to get and give to the offi
cial such registration of his guests.
There are no unmarked skulking holes
in Paris. Every house, every room, is
known, and under police surveillance,
every stranger is known and described
at police headquarters within a few days
of his arrival.
Once within the walls of Paris, and
historically, so to speak, your identity
is always there. In case of injury to
any person the sufferer is not dependent
on the nearest drug store for a tempo
rary hospital, as with us.
In every arondissement may be seen
the prominent sign, “Assistance for the
wounded, asphyxiated or poisoned.”
Above always hangs the official tri-color.
I say, “official” because a certain slender
prolongation of the flag-staff denotes
that the establishment is under govern
ment supervision, and no private party
may adopt this fashion.
The French flag is not flung to the
breeze like the Stars and Stripes, so that
none can tell whether it indicates a
United States government station or a
beer saloon. .
“ Long Metre ” inquires “ How do
you cure hams?” Dear Metre, it de
pends on what ails the hams. If they
have a slight cold, soak their feet in hot
water and feed them composition tea.
If there are symptoms.of consumption
slice thin and fry and the consumption
is assured. If you wish to prevent the
consumption, hang the ham out doors
where tne sun can strike it for a week or
A REIGN OF SNAKES.
4 Railroad Blockaded wltli Then, and •
Train Conpelled to Halt.
[Communication in St. Louia aiobe-Dmocrat.J
In Northwest Missouri, where ex-Gov.
R. M. Stewart resided years before and
after his political career, up to the time
of his death, many old citizens love to
tell of bis brilliant conversational pow
ers and inexhaustible fund of anecdotes.
The Governor often told of the difficul
ties which he hau to surmount, and in
one of his happiest moods he related a
snake story which I have never seen in
print. In those days, said the Gov
ernor, snakes were not only uncommonly
numerous, but infested certain portions
of the State to such an extent that
farmers would often pack up their house
hold wares and remove elsewhere. Dur
ing the building of the road I have
seen them so troublesome and numerous
that the hands would sometimes stop
work and inaugurate a short campaign
against them with shovels, axes and
crowbars. The serpents were not vicious,
the men being hardly ever bitten, but
the great vexation consisted in their so
ciability and perfect indifference to
danger. They apparently were utterly
devoid of that instinct of self-preserva
tion 'with which the Almighty endowed
every creature. At night they would
sometimes make sleep impossible by
hissing and squirming in and about the
tents, and during the day they would
vex the men almost beyond endurance
by running between their legs and
otherwise annoying them. They were
not considered dangerous, being of that
species known as prairie bissers. It was
only now and then that a rattler was dis
covered among them, and death was sure
to follow', for the men would alway stop
and find time to chase one until be was
overtaken and his head chopped off.
The men always dreaded a shower, for
then the snakes were the worst. They
would literally swarm out on the prairies
and travel in schools. On one occasion
of this kind, when the road was in
course of construction in Livingstone
County, the construction engine with
three flat cars was at the last camping
place, about ten miles in the rear of the
track builders. I was there awaiting
the landing of some tools and spikes,
which it was intended to convey to the
end of the road. it had been raining
all morning, but cleared up about noon,
and when we pulled out after dinner the
weather was pleasant but a little hazy.
We had traveled about half the distance
when the engineer—l was riding on the
engine - called my attention to the hun
dreds of snakes crossing several hundred
yards in front of us, the track for a short
distance being black with them and en
tirely lost to sight. The engine-driver
opened the throttle and in a few mo
ments we were crushing through them.
The drivers had not made more than two
or three revolutions when they began to
fly around at lightning rapidity, and
the speed of ihe train was slackened.
The wheels of the engine were almost
clogged with crushed snakes, and still
the track was actually buried beneath
them for one hundred yards In front Of
us. We did not succeed in getting
much more headway, when the train
came to a standstill. We were unable
to make our way through them, and
amused by knocking them off
the engine. We were detained nearly
an hour before the grand march of the
serpents had crossed and we were en
abled to proceed. * They seemed to be
moving that day, and the earth seemed
to be alive with them; indeed they
seemed to cover the earth.
A Cool Letter from a Husband.
I have become accidently possessed oJE
the following letter, which is a correct
copy of one lately addressed by a Cor
poral of Marines to bis wife, from a ves
sel which is at present stationed off the
west coast of Africa.
“ Wife—l was greatly surprised to
hear from you (through my Captain;. I
had forgotten that I was married, and to
tell you the truth, I had entirely forgot
ten you. I should have thought that a
handsome young woman like you would
have been above applying to a poor
marine for help. I think you have been
guided by your mother in this matter,
as you have in all others. Well, I should
like you to act upon my advice for
once; that is to take no notice, of your
mother, do the best you can for yourself,
and, if possible, get married again. It
might be better for you. I can assure
you that I never will trouble you as long
as I live. lam very comfortable in the
service, and there is no doubt but that I
shall stay in the service for the next 16
years. My Captain said that he would
not interfere with my private affairs, and
if 1 Had any trouble with you to take no
notice of it. I must now conclude, and
I don't think I shall ever see you or Man
chester again, for I have greater attrac
tions in Portsmouth than any other part
“ I remain, etc.
“P. S.—l cannot return your letter as
it is lost.”
In this letter the sternness of the war
rior and the inconstancy of the sailor are
fearfully and wonderfully combined.
Changing the Color of the Eyes.
The strangest news coming to us from
Germany—even stranger than that the
effeminate Viennese should welcome the
man who conquered them at Koniggratz
—is that a learned doctor has discovered
a means of dying human eyes any color
he likes, not only without injury to the
delicate orbs, but, as he asserts, with
positive advantage to the powers of
sight. He can not only give fair ladies
eyes black as night or blue as orient skies
by day, but he can turn them out in hue
of silver or gold. He says golden eyes
are extremely becoming. Nothing goes
down without a grand name; therefore
the German doctor calls his discovery
“ Oecular Transmutation.” He declares
himself quite ready to guarantee success
and harmlessness in the operation.
Good-night 1 T hare to sny good-night
To such a host of peerless things 1
Good-nicht unto the frugi’e hand
All queenly with its weight of ring*;
Good-night to fond uplifted ores,
Good-night to chestnut braids of hair.
Good-night auto the perfect mouth,
And all the sweetness nestled there—
The snowy hand detains me, then
I’ll have to say good-night again !
But there will come a time, my love,
When, il I read your stars aright,
I shall not linger by the porch
With my adieus. Till then good-night!
You wish the time vere now ? And I.
You do not blush to wish it so ?
You would have blushed yourself to death
To own so much a year ago—
~ What? both these snowy hands? Ah, then.
I’ll have to sav good-night again!
A BARBER generally dyes by over*
Mary had a little lamb. It was
roasted and she wanted more.
Even criminals like paragiaphs—that
is to say, they prefer a short sentence.
It is a rule of the penitentiary to cut
the locks off before turning the locks on
The boy who is well-spanked fully
realizes the deep meaning of sterna
“Be careful how you punctuate the
stove,” is the latest. It means not ta
put too much colon.
It’s not onlv hard work to pop the
question, but it is equally hard to quea
tion the pop about it afterwards.
A lame farmer was asked if he had a
corn on hi3 toe. “No,” he said, but
I’ve got lots on the ear. ’
Cervantes has said, “ Every one is
son of his own works.” This makes the
great Krupp a son of a gun.
A man may have a Boston look in his
eye simply by letting his imagination
dwell on the things that have bean.
Just as soon as ladies’ belts are made
to look like surcingles horses will de
mand a change of fashion for them
Don’t judge a man by his clothes.
Can you tell Avhat the circus is going to
be like by looking at the Italian sunset
pictures on the fence?”
Job has been marked down in history
as the patient man. The fact is that at
one time he was just boiling over with
impatience to die.
If the surrounding circumstances are
congenial, it is fair to conclude that the
position preferred by lovers is juxtaposi
tion which suits them.
A projectile weighing 1,700 pounds,
shot from a cannon charged with 425-
pounds of powder, is the latest. Why
not use the earth for a cannon ball?
An Irishman should patronize the
concrete pavement, because every time
they look upon it they will see their
country’s emblem —sbam-rock.
Kansas school-teacher: “Where does
our grain go to?” “ Into the hopper.”
“What hopper?” “Grasshopper,” tri
umphantly shouted a scholar.”
Full many a flower was bom
To blush unseen,
And many a man takes his corn
Behind the screen.
“ I am glad that painted belts are in
style,” said a frisky fellow, as he artis
tically decorated the one he received
ever the eye the previous day.
A correspondent wants to ""know
what is an affinity. An affinity, my
dear sir, is something that exists be
tween a small boy and bis neighbor’s
A man’s clothes are not always indi
cative of his character; for a fellow may
wear the loudest kind of garments and
yet be as mild and quiet as an autumn
Fashion understands that a lady is
in a full dress when the trail of her
garments cover her form, the spittoon
and three squares of Brussels carpet ai
the same time.
A rather gaily dressed young lady
asked her Sunday-school class what war
“meant by the pomp and vanity of the
world.” The answer was honest but
rather unexpected: “ Them flowers on
He stole along the edge of the patch,
Till an object his keen eyes fell on;
He snatched it up and waltzed away—
’Twas a squash instead of a melon.
“How came you to be lost?” asked a
sympathetic gentleman of a little boy ho
found crying in the street for his mother.
“I aint lost,” indignantly exclaimed tho
little three-year-old; “but m-m-m-y
mother is, and I ca-ca-can’t find her.”
The other day, an old toper, recover
ing from a prolonged spree, sat reading
the morning paper. Soon he looked up
and exclaimed, “ Why, bless my soul,
the rebels have been firing on Fort
Sumter!”— Oincinnati Saturday JVight.
“Johnnie, what is a noun?” “Nam©
of a person, place or thing.” “ Very
good; give an example.” “Hand-organ
grinder.” “And why i3 a hand-organ
grinder a noun?” “ Because he’s a per
son plays a thing.”
He is a fruiter's factotum; and when
he writes letters for his employer, and
signs them “John Smith, per Simmons,”
he instinctively puckers up his lips. It
is seasonably suggestive, and he can’t
A story in an exchange is entitled
‘7 n Two Halves.” Will the author
kindly inform a suffering public, blindly
groping about in the misty avenues of
ignorance, in how many more halves it
would have been possible to have had
The author of “Grandfather’s Clock ’
is at last meeting his punishment. One
of his daughters, not able to stand tho
tick any longer, recently stopped short
before a clergyman with a runaway
young man, promised never to go single
any more, and the old man nearly died.