Newspaper Page Text
The Covington Star 0
J. W. ANDERSON. Editor and Proprietor.
WHICH?
(Some must sow,
Though others reap-*
Borne must go,
While others sleep;
Some must sigh,
While joy bells ring—
Some must (lie,
While others sin O’
Some will laugh,
While storm clouds burst;
Some will quaff.
While others thirst;
Some will grope
While others Bail
Some will hope,
While others fail.
Some will sin,
Some will win.
In cause unjust;
Somo will greod.
While others give—
Somo will need
While mortals live.
Voices raise
Upon the air—
Some in praise.
And some—despair!
Thus the ills
And joys must be;
Thus fulfils
Our destiny.
Keep this thought
Within thy mind:
"Peace was brougnt
For humankind,”
Who hath braved
Life’ssea—storm tost,
Some are saved,
And some are lost.
—Cleveland Plain Dealer.
THE STROKE OF RUIN.
BY MAUElCE THOMPSON.
s*a ;A’tp < i T the and was rather balmy moonlight late even¬ in
:f-Bp ing,with a breeze
lloyal fluttering along
m (■ street, and
the sound cf a
guitar coming
m ^5 from an indefi
nito distance. No street ears were
I running nod but few strollers—these
I mostly creoles in high-heeled shoes
I tapping lightly on the banquettes—
I went up and down the narrow way.
I Boyle Harding leaned back in an
easy chair on the iron-railed balcony,
I or gallery, which overhung tho side
I walk, and smoked blowly, with half
I closed eyes. He was awaiting tho ar
I rival of his young friend, Francois
3 llapin, who had lately interested him
I to a singular uegree.
I Even at the moment, up the uncar¬
peted stairway came the active creole’s
leet, two steps at a time, along with a
lively tune snug almost breathlessly
through a curving black mustache.
“Ah, but here I am!” he cried, is¬
suing through the doorway and trip
ping a gay step along the floor towards
Harding.
“Well, and what is it?" demanded
the New Yorker, it What have you
found out?”
‘Bah! He produced a cigarette
and asked for a light by an inimitable
pantomime with head and shoulders.
Go “Maybe she went to the French opera.
with me; I have a box; come.”
II But haven’t you yet seen her?”
“Seen her—how should I know?
Monsieur Harding forgets the condi¬
tions. He laughed in his atrociously
frivolous French way.
“I beg pardon,” said Hardir.g,
quickly; “I had, indeed, forgotten
that I did not know her name, her
place of residence, nor yet even the
color of her eyes. Yes, I will go with
you to the opera. Everybody goes,
Not everybody, but everybody of
the best. It is the distinction; we
draw tho line in front of the boxes. t *
K Not the dead line, I hope.”
I 4 Even that sometimes, I have
known yes.
a glance of sweet eyes to cost
a man his best blood under the oaks.
Are >uu a good fencer?”
filing Boyle Harding made no answer, but
his cigar stump over the iron
filagree down into the street, where it
coruscated on the cobble-stones, and
then he rose and shook himself light¬
ly as one does who forms an imperfect
plan or feels vaguely impatient over
delayed expectations.
The sky above New Orleans was as
klue as a sapphiro, and the irregular
old houses along Royal street caught
many a stray gl’nt from the splendid
moon. Harding was in a mood to feel
all tho force of such a scene. He had
come South a fortnight past with let¬
ters of introduction to influential peo¬
ple, but ho was not seeking society : a
quiet sojourn in New Orleans with his
eyes and ears opened suited him bet¬
ter. He was young, however, brimful
of blood and surcharged with a poet's
Imagination.
IVhat was, perhaps, just the thing
he Would have most desired came to
him unexpectedly one day. It was a
twinkle of romance in the gloom of
Royal street. He suddenly met a
beautiful young woman face to face
R t tho door of Garcin’s old book store,
a tents dingy bole where you find the con¬
of French libraries that have
been sold at successive sales or picked
U P at auction. Warm eyes exchanged
an have involuntary look which seemed to
tms a glow of inquiry struck out of
points, Harding was electrified,
ft Ld impulsively lifted his hat. She
passed him with a half smile, leaving
8 " r ®»th of violets and the rustle of a
gown quietly elec..nt in the air round
about.
I he color of her hair, her height,
he tint of her eyes, her complexion
~~he could not fix one of these iu bis
mmd, but he knew that she was the
loveliest, ♦v,, the most enchanting girl
entered ever breathed. The impression
his consciousness so suddenly
-V-t brill itself so deep and with such a
of romantic pleasure, that he
Slopped short in the door, and stood
there, hat in hand, smiling reminis
•ently and listening to the purr of his
own biood sweetly quickening along
his veins.
A lover is a great fool; but he is
the only man who knows what song it
was that the stars sang ; and to him
you must go it you would learn the
secret of heavenly happiness and the
valne of dreams as nutriment for the
imagination. A lover’s soul will treble
its stature by feeding one moment on
n smile.
In fact, Boyle Harding had felt this
sudden growth within; it had quick¬
ened, broadened and sweetened his
spiritual vision, while affording a fine
and richly mysterious increment to his
enjoyment of his new surroundings.
This was midway in the fifties, when
New Orleans had reached the splendid
zenith of her wealth, and when the
peculiar color of her social life was
most dazzling and romantic. Ab an
A merican city she stood apart, a hot,
almost tropical heart of passion, lux¬
ury, pleasure and abounding hospi¬
tality. And with it all went the old
freedom of chivalric personal courage
and the love of spectacular results in
matters of honor.
Harding and his yOung creole friend
set out ou foot j it was but a short
step to tho Opera House, and as they
went along Rapin was prattling on
the subject of fencing, always a great
vogue with the jeunesse doree of New
Orleans. He was himself a - rich
orphan, living upon an almost unlim¬
ited income, and had long been a
confirmed habitue of the fencing halls.
Having seen some rapiers and foils in
Harding’s rooms, he was saying:
<< But you must be interested in
sword play—in fencing. It is the
noblest of all the exercises for gentle¬
men, and your physique is precisely
made up for it. You must be a mas¬
ter, or you could be.”
4 4 I have had good masters,” Hard¬
ing replied in an evasive tone, “but
I am losing interest in it.
“Your masters were in New York?”
i 4 No! Paris, I had M. Duval for
three years. ”
i 4 M. Duval! You had M. Charles
Duval for three years?"
4 4 Yes.” .
4 4 Ah, what fortune! He, and he
only, teaches the ‘stroke ot ruin,’ the
pass which pierces across from shoul¬
der to shoulder, disabling the victim
for life, yet never killing him!” Ra¬
pin spoke enthusiastically, and after
a moment’s pause added almost breath¬
lessly :
4 4 And you learned his stroke 1 Oh,
but I am overjoyed j and you will
teach me to do it? Ah, Monsieur, I
shall be your lifelong debtor. I have
dreamed of that incomparable thrust;
I have made two journeys to Paris to
learn it; but, you must know, M.
Duval is an ancient enemy of my
father. I could not go to him, and
his pupil are so few and so, so, so dis¬
tinguished and exclusive that I could
not reach one of them.”
Harding laughed at tho youth’s
frankness and told him pleasantly
that he should be glad to give him the
secret instruction. Thereupon Rapin
almost hugged him, and they were
just eutering the Opera House.
A great curve of splendor, a flash of
faces, jewels, laces, eyes, fans—a be¬
wildering horizon of corsages, coif¬
fures, necklaces, bracelets, rings; a
foam of airy gowns sinking and swell¬
ing gently, like surf froth against a
beach of fairy land. Harding gazed
in half-blinded stupidity, 60 he felt,
and could see no details, could make
out no individual face distinctly. It
all struck him as some vast spectacle
of barbarous gewgaw splendor, and
yet nothing that he had ever seen
could compare with it in unity of
effect. The boxes were all full, and
full of beauty and queenly costume, so
accentuated that nowhere else could
such insistences upon decoration have
been tolerable. There, however, it
was the perfection of color, brilliance
and condensed, passionate beauty of
expression such as the Greeks of Alex
audaia dreamed of in their luxurious
exhibitions.
Harding and Rapin were the only
persons in their box, which was well
to One side of the great curve. On
the stage a celebrated ballet favorite
was kicking neatly through one of her
captivating passages. the lessons to-mor¬
Cl We will begin
row,” murmured Rapin; 4 I I shall be
apt scholar, monsieur. *»
an
“Yes,” said Harding, absently. He
was gazing along the great sweep of
beauty and light.
i« But excuse me for a moment or
two,” the creole added after a while,
when the curtain was down, “I am
going to call at the box of friend. »»
a
He went, and Harding continued his
survey, which, now that his eyes had
somewhat accustomed themselves to
tho glamor, became more real and ab¬
sorbingly interesting.
Presently he saw Rapin in a box, a
magnificent one, near the centre,
talking with a tall, young woman—
aud it was she. There could be no
doubt for a moment. The thrill
through Harding’s heart told as much
as the girl’s resplendent, yet, in a way,
subdued beauty. fixed; the
Harding’s eyes old-time were love which
trance of that men
used to acknowledge was upon him.
His strong, healthy, boyish nature
plunged into the thick of a passion
romanoo as fervid as it was pure and
sincere. And at the very central mo
ment she turned from Ralpin and
looked straight at him. Moreover, he
could see a light of quick interest
come into her face; they were speak
j n ,, 0 f Dim.
Thn nrosv fact was that Rapin, in
COVINGTON, GEORGIA, TUESDAY, JUNE 18. 1895.
again. Harding was a superbly hand¬
some young athlete, a flower of per¬
fect manhood with a face never to be
forgotten by any woman.
Rapin presently returned to the box,
bringing with him, or at least Hard¬
ing fancied it, a breath of that ex¬
quisite violet perfume which had been
haunting Harding’s memory for days
and nights together.
I 4 Who is she—the young lady in the
box where you’ve been? 5»
The abrupt inquiry and a certain
timbre of Hardmg’s voice betrayed his
emotion to the quick creole.
., Oh, she—that is Mile. Maria de
Montmartin. Lovely, isn’t she? You
might envy me, M. Harding. She is
my betrothed.”
“Ah”— Harding hesitated and a
palish change passed over his face,like
a fleece cloud over some glorified
space of sky. Then he coolly added :
4 4 I do envy you, Yes, she is the most
beautiful girl that I have ever seen.
She is the one I met in the old book
store door. You are quick to find.”
Rapin colored.
tt Thank yon,” he said, as the cur¬
tain went up and the prima donna
strode forth with a superb swing.
The next day Rapin came to Hard¬
ing’s rooms for his initial lesson; but
the young man begged o postpone¬
ment ; he was not feeling in good form,
he said, and was averse to exercise.
And now Harding’s powerful letters
of introduction came into play. The
only son of General Stanhope Harding
had the key to open even the exclu¬
sive gate of the mansion wherein the
ancient family traditions of Montmar¬
tin were kept in an atmosphere of
their own. Here the young man
found Mile. Marie even more fascinat¬
ing than his imagination had pictured
her.
We must acquit him; he did not de¬
liberately seek to gain her affections;
indeed, there was no need to seek; she
claimed him at sight, aud the way was
love’s sweetest path. Rapin was for¬
gotten as a merely conventional lover
mnst always be when the trne one
comes rushing in all aglow and all
powerful. parentis
Marie’s were delighted.
There was no obstacle, religious of
other, and an alliance with the Hard¬
ing family was something to be proud
of. So, in due course of time, the en¬
gagement was announced and the wed¬
ding day approached.
Harding had been to New York; he
returned late in November, radiant
with happy aspirations, and took
rooms as before, but now in the St.
Charles. He brought some friends
with him, and his parents would be
coming a little later.
I have said that a lover is a fool.
His vanity, moreover, cannot be over¬
estimated, aud the selfishness of his
passion plays him small yet irresisti¬
ble tricks, Harding had a desire to
go again to the old book store of
Garcian, on Royal street, and have his
first meeting with Marie over once
more in his imagination. He slipped
away from the hotel furtively and
with a foolish stir in his blood.
The morning was like a summer’s
dream, clothing the old city in films
of chastened splendor. Up and down
the narrow streets clacked the high
heeled hoots of the little creoles.
Fruit stands, heaped with luscious or¬
anges, bananas, apples, dashed the air
with a rich bouquet, and there were
roses everywhere. Harding held his
head high and walked swiftly.
When we go to seek an illusion wo
are pretty sure to find a reality. It is
not the scheme of nature to humor us
in luxuries. At Garcian’s door Hard¬
ing came abruptly face to face with
Francois Rapin, whom he had not
seen since the announcement of the
coming nuptials. Somehow it was a
surprise, but Rapin’s face showed a
quick smile.
Harding stopped short in his tracks,
and would have probably put forth his
hand in a friendly offer of salutation;
but just then his hat was lightly tapped
from his head by RapiD, who immedi¬
ately picked it up and handed it to
him, saying:
4 I Monsieur Harding will now re¬
member his promise to teach me the
mysterious stroke of M. Duval.”
He bowed low and was gone, while
a card fluttered down at Harding’s
feet; it bore Rapin’s address.
At first Harding’s heat of temper
was great, but reflection led him to
consult his friends, who ridiculed the
thought of a duel. He was glad to
escape, for, although a born fighter,
this was no time to be risking his life
or to be killing a man.
He had, however, consulted bnt one
side of that advisory board which al¬
ways exists in such cases. His North
ern friends were unanimously opposed
to the duel, but he must be frank and
lay tho matter before his fiancee’s
family. him, sir, said
4 4 You must fight
Montmartin.
4 4 Of course, there is but one way
open to a gentleman,” sighed Mario;
“you must challenge him. »»
The Montmartin household and all
tho Montmartin circle were as a unit
on this point. No evasion was to be
considered, since Rapin smilingly re
fused to apologize, and so Harding
sent the challenge, which was promptly
accepted. under the
They met at sunrise
“ 0 aks” so well known to duelling his
tory. Merrily clinked their rapiers
for honor’s sake and Marie’s. That
was but about forty years ago; and
yet what a distance i YVhat a far spin
the world has made down the “groove
of change” since then 1 Farragut and
Butler have been in the city ; the re
construction terror has come and gone;
s
whose two arms dangled half-paralyzed
beside him, walked down Royal street.
“That is Francis Rapin,” sail a
creole to some friends, < . He got that
wound in the celebrated duel with
Harding."
n Y-e-e-s,” drawled another of the
group, with a queer little shrug.
(t Y-e-e-s, Mr. Harding taught him the
‘stroke of ruin,’ lml ha! e’esfc vral,
n’est ce pas?”
I followed with curious gaze the re¬
treating form of Rapin, recalling at
the same time that Boyle Harding and
his wife were now living in Nice,
where, in most comfortable circnm
stances and well loaded with fame,
Harding writes his novels and plays
with his grandchildren. His wife 13 .
said to be still beautiful and very
domestic.—New York Vanity.
The Price of Health.
Nature has made ample provisions
for a healthy human race, and it is
the disgrace of that race that the dog3,
swine and even wild beasts enjoy per¬
fect health when man’s blighting hand
is not laid Upon them, while he him¬
self wastes under manifold diseases.
Animals maintain health by following
their instincts. Man's reason takes
the place of instinct and whatever
sound reason commends should be
done, and whatever it forbids should
be avoided. These two rules should be
applied to eating, exercise, sleep, rest,
work, dress, worry and other factors
affecting human health. In eating,
reason says, adjust the proportions of
food and its quantity to the laws of
body growth. Man does nothing of
tho kind but simply eats as it happens.
Reason says, eat only when you are
hungry, but man eats at mealtime
whether hungry or not. Reason says
few and simple viands only, and man
multiplies their number and complex¬
ity to the utmost of his skill. When
the stomach is overworked it needs
rest. Man goads it with stimulants
and bitters and makes it work on. In
the matter of dress, reason would
clothe only for decency, adequate pro¬
tection and such adornment as is not
deleterious to health. The iChinese
cramp the feet of their females and
disable them for life. Civilized,Nations
less sensible, cramp their women’s
waists into disfigurement and their vital
organs into permanent invalidism.
Wealth is valued for the means of en¬
joyment that it gives. Yet health fur¬
nishes a greater variety of keener and
more lasting enjoyment than any
other human possession.—American
Agriculturist. ___
Queer Human Family Statistics.
The estimated population of the
world on January 1, 1833, was 1,600,
000 , 000 ,
Taking the world over, there is an
average of one death and one and one
fourth births pet second. Only one
half of all who are born into the
world live to the age of seventeen
years. that, taking
Vital statistics prove
the world over, there are 109 women
to every 100 men. Oat ot every nine
sudden deaths reported eight ot the
number are men.
The microscope shows that the hu¬
man body is covered with scales, each
scale covering 500 pores.
Only six persons out of each 1000
born live to be seventy-five years old,
and only one of the same number
reaches the century mark..
Figures by experts in vital statis¬
tics prove that not less 4,817,500,000
human beings die on our globe each
century. anthropological statis¬
The largest
tics prove that in America the daily,
monthly and yearly number of births
exceeds the deaths in the ratio of three
to one.
Huxley’s tables show that the hu¬
man body is made up of thirteen dif¬
ferent elements, of which five are gases
and eight solids.
The average height of man in the
United States is five feet ten and a
half inches; in England, five feet nine
inches; in France, five feet four
inches; in Belgium, five feet six and a
quarter inches.— St. Louis Republic.
Brazil’s Projected New Capital,
It appears that the Brazilians are
not satisfied with their pressnt capi¬
tal, Rio de Janeiro, which is not cen¬
tral, not very healthy, and perhaps
not roomy enough. They are about
to build themselves a brand-new capi¬
tal, embodying, as tho projectors
would say, every modern improve¬
ment. This news was given, says our
Paris correspondent, yesterday after
noon to the French Academy of Soi
ences by one of its members, M. Faye.
This noted astronomer has just re¬
ceived a communication anent the new
capital from Senor Cruls, who ap¬
pends to his name tho substantial tit le
of President of tho Brazilian Commit¬
tee of Preliminary Investigation for
the Removal of the Capital of Brazil
to the Centre of the States of the Con¬
federation. Senor Cruls states that
the new Federal capital will be built
on the central plateau of Brazil, in a
rectangle of about twenty-five miles
long and seven broad—quite a city of
Ill agnificent distances, equal to any¬
thing in the United States. What is
more important, the site will be a
healthy one, and, not withstanding the
nearness of the new capital to the
equator, the clim ate will be compara¬
tively mild by re ason of the altitmia,
—London News.
A Curious Fa J.
The Connt of Montesquieu a
wealthy and eccentric French noble
man. inhabits a splendid villa m the
a as.:
"0 irGiilUil \ fiTJTAXPG 0 T>T? \ T Xf
ITIB NEWEST FANCIES; IN WO¬
MAN’S WEAK.
Valenciennes tho Fashionable Lace
of the Moment—Startling Nov¬
elties In Cyllng I>rcss—A
Clack Chip llat.
OR a little while yon can use
Valenciennes, says a New York
fashion letter to the Chicago
Record. It is tho fashionable
lace at the moment, but it is so cheap
that nothing is more certain than that
it won’t be the fashion very loug.
While the fancy lasts, however, it is
lavished upon everything unsparingly.
The summer blouse is all Valenciennes.
I was looking yesterday at a white
taffeta waist that belongs in the trous¬
seau of a June bride, The back of it
was plain, but the front was laid iu
tiDy tucks, between which were set
rows of narrow insertion, edged with
Valenciennes that stood out in frills.
The big sleeves were tucked and lace
garnished in the same fashion, and |
there was a white silk collar all a-flut¬
ter with lace ruffliugs.
A white lawn dress is another sum¬
mery example. It has a skirt eight
yards round, with three lawn ruffles at
the bottom. The top ruffle is headed
with Valenciennes and all three are
footed with it. The waist is trimmed
in dainty fashion. Two rows of Valen¬
ciennes are run together, to make a
tiuy rucho, and live rows of ruchiug
are thrown over tho blouse, bretelle
fashion. Little rosettes of-lace are
perched upon the shoulders like but¬
terflies.
For summer evening wear novelties
are showing their heads on every hand.
A pretty cream-eolore.l silk, figured
with roses, is cut with a skirt almost
ten yards round. The low bodico is
of white tulle, with a great bow of
black velvet ou the left shoulder.
There is a very narrow black velvet
belt and the sleeves are tulle cascades.
Garlands of roses catch up the drap¬
eries.
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NEAT MORNING GOWNS OF SUMMER SILK.
Another artistio frock is of pale blue
orgafldio muslin, sprayed with forget
me-nots. The skirt has four flounces,
each edged with Valenciennes. The
full, puffed sleeves are tied with blue
and white ribbons, and more ribbons
are used for shoulder bows, sash and
streamers.
Cycling dress is getting brave. It
use to bo gray, to avoid showing dust,
but now it does not hesitate to be red,
because it is no longer the badge of
on exercise, but of a fashion. A pic
turesvue cycler in Central Park wore
a green tweed skirt, with white shirt
and leather belt, onffs and collars.
Her red serge blazer coat shone out
daringly with it twinkling gold but¬
tons. To this she added red serge
knickerbockers and a soft red felt hat.
She hod red ribbons tied to her wheel,
and she looked as if life was good and
June the best of all months of the year.
Less showy, bnt quite as novel, may¬
be, was a green cloth cycling suit, with
white silk blouse, all frills and fluffiness.
Over this came a green Figaro jacket,
faced with white, and a belt and neck
tio of tartan rod and green. No skirt
at all ivai visible, but the knicker¬
bockers were so full you wouldn’t have
known the difference until you got to
the knees. At tho knees they stopped,
and tartan stockings took their place,
helped out by soft cycling shoes.
CASHMF.BE WORN.
The information that cashmere will
bo highly favored will be received
with satisfaction by many womeD.
There are few fabrics of its kind more
dressy looking when stylishly made
up than silky French cashmere. Deli¬
cate women select even for summer
wear fine sheer wool gowns in prefer
ence to those of cotton, and if the
material is all wool and never so light,
it can bo cleaned once and again and
appear as dainty and fresh as the pret¬
tiest of cotton gowns ;before washing.
Thero is a wonderfully attractive
amount of fine beauMffll wools now
manufactured, the rl ge embracing
French veiling, can if ’s hair, child
dab, tricot cloth, cij pon, Henrietta
clotb, fayetta, many \ rieties of serge
an> l English diagona i, Keyber bison
aud pilot cloth, cli Hie, Carmelite,
erepalino and mousf ine de laine.
A BIG Cl ■ HAT.
This hat, seen in New York rnillio-
ery store, is of fine black chip, with a
full Tam o’Shanter crown of “violct
ta” velvet; a huge rosette of the samo
is placed on the right side quite at
Jr m .^r
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IN
CLACK CHIP HAT.
the back; on tho loft side nro four
black feathers, one stands upright,
two fall slightly over the brim in
front, and one curls over the side.
SUMMER BONNET;!.
Leghorn hats will b j worn at tin
summer resorts, trimuiel with black
ostrich feathers—half long—flat on
either side, and large bunches of pink
roses.
For concert wear a largo black poppy
forms the center of a toque, with a
circle of rhinestones near tho top;
two pink satin ribbon rosettes are
placed at the sides of the front, and at
the back a wide bow of ribbon has a
center of shaded pink roses.
A MOMENTARY FAD,
Cordings and pipings are a momen¬
tary fad and are, of course, scon upon
almost everything, They are neither
artistic nor becomin r <r » as a rule, giv
ing tho wearer tho effect ofl being
mnrked off into sections. It is sur¬
prising how many absurd fashions wo¬
men will adopt for the s «ke of nov¬
elty. Every little while this piping
and cording idea in some contrasting
color gets possession of the fashion¬
able mind and is carried to excess.
There certainly is nothing particular¬
ly attractive iu the dress of a womau
which suggests the results of somo
topographical survey with chalked
outlines and cross-lines.
A PRETTY PELISSE FOR A LITTLE GIRL.
This is a child’s pelisse in turquoise
blue faille, The back is formed with
two wide plaits. Cape with insertion
and lace of muslin applique. Satin
^ & fj
ili
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LITTLE GIRL’S PELISSE.
.ruche rouud the neck and cufts. Hat
in fancy straw and lace to match the
pelisse. Large bow of white satin
ribbon, striped with gauze.
j The Alpine tunnel, thirty-four miles
east of Gunnison, Col., after remaiu
; Uc .- closed five years, is being cleaned
out again for use. The tunnel is 12,
000 feet high, but there is one in the
An vies 16,045 feet above sea level.
! Water bo;!j very easily at this height
VOL. XA I. NO. 12
FOUR-LEAF CLOVER.
‘If one And a four-leaf clover,”
She said, sitting on the grass,
‘‘He can wish whate'er he likes to.
And that wish shall come to pass,"
“Do you say so?” then down kneeling
’Mong the sorrel and cropt grass,
Looked I for a four-leaf clover
And my wish to come to pass.
Long I searched among tho sorrel, .
Close beside me she searched, too;
Now and then some commonplaces
Broke tho silence—but it grow.
For my heart was full of yearning,
And my mouth of eaaer wordf,
But I dared not give them utteranco,
So I hearkened to the birds:
And kept looking, looking, lookin O*
While beside me she looked, too—
Two boat figures in the twilight,
Green hills paling into blue.
“Ha, I have one!” “Yes, and wished for?”
j‘Yon, and shall it be?” I cried,
Eyes cast down she asked, demurely,
“Hath tho clover not replied?"
—George Houghton.
PITH AND POINT.
What fools these mortals think other
mortals be!
The hair-dresser has all tho new
kinds. —Puck.
It is easier to forgive success in any
one else than a relative.
Tho woman who thinks before slio
speaks has to be a lightning thinker.
When a husband and wife fire up at
the slightest provocation mutch.--Phila¬ it doesn’t
follow that it’s a good
delphia Record.
The Mauayuuk Philosopher rises to
remark that it’s a good thing for man¬
kind that Adam was caught napping,
- Philadelphia Record.
Dress Befortn agitation
The family household’s hurts divided
When the
As well as the skirts.
—Puck.
«f Yes,” said Charon, as bo rang the
bell for full speed, straight ahead;
4 4 wo have had to hustle since we ba
gan to make connections with the
Brooklyn trolley cars.”—Puck.
She wants those wild flowers which are
spread bank beside tho creek.
On mossy
*
A slip! A splash! He's now in bed.
But may recover in a week.
—Washington Star.
She—“Don’t you think that salt
water is beneficial to health?’' He—
a Not always. A man whom I once
knew was seriously injnred by it."
She—“How so?” He “He was
drowned.”— Tit-Bits.
Wife—“John, dear, what would you
do if I wore to die?” Husband—
i. Don’t speak of such a thing; I would
be desperate, i • ,, Do you think you
would marry again?” 4 I Well, no; I
don’t think I would be as desperate as
that.”—Tit-Bits.
De Bann—“I don’t think the Gum
bys liked that chafing-dish wo gavo
them for a wedding present.” Mrs.
Do Bann—“Why not: Q>> I)e Bann
t 4 I met Gumby to-day, and he invited
us around to eat something they are
going to cook in it. Brooklyn Life.
“I don’t like hash,” remarked tho
musical boarder at breakfast, 4 4 It is
not rhythmical.” “Maybe not, ro
plied the landlady, as her eyes emitted
a baleful fire, “but you will always
find one word to rhyme with it, aud
that word is cash. New York Tri
bnne.
Van Pullman—“How can I believe
that you love me better than yon did
your former husband when you aav
yon kissed him oftener than you do
me? ’ Mrs, Lakeside—“Oh, my dear,
the kisses I give you are just twice as
long as those I gave him.”—New York
World.
Miss Lapham—‘'Now that you are
BO influential, I want you to help me
to get into society. a Miss Penstock
—“You wouldn’t like it. You aro a
home body. Why, you would be bored
to death.” Miss Lapham—“I know the
it my dear. But I want to have
privilege of being bored.”—Harlem
Life.
A Sew and Durable Gun.
The French Minister of War has
just completed experiments with a gun
which is guaranteed for 1000 rounds.
After 3000 rounds with smokeless
powder its rifling was found, it is said,
in fair condition. A muzzle velocity
of 3000 feet per second is reported.
Not only is the whole gun of hard
tempered steel, but it has a choke
boro of such construction that as the
projectile moves forward in the bar¬
rel the lands of the rifling become
larger and closer, so that the copper
forming the driving band is constant¬
ly set out. The escape of gas between
the projectile and the walls of the gun
and the consequent erosion of the gun
are thus prevented.—Sau Francisco
Examiner.
Recipe lor Darkening Guns locks.
Gunstocks may be effectually dark¬
ened by a judicious application of
either of the two following solutions:
1. Four ounces ofalkanet root soaked
in half a pint of raw linseed oil; 2,
Crystals of permanganate of potash
dissolved in water. The solution
should be thoroughly rubbed into the
wood, which, if close grained may,
with advantage, be pricked before be
ing treated. Half a dozen applioa
tions are usually sufficient, A dark
stock always looks well, but on no ac¬
count ought a stock to be varnished.
The sight of a varnished gunstock has
the same effect upon a sportsman tops. as a
sight of a pair of varnished boot
Seven New York Romeos were ar
rested in one week for borrowing
money of their la.ly loves and then re
I fusing to marry them..
