Newspaper Page Text
-V
LEAVE ME NOT IN ANGER.
BY FRED IRVINGTON.
Leave me not iO anger, darling,
Drive me not. love, to despair—
Ab. besides your soft embraces.
For naught else on earth I care.
What would life be, love, without you ?
What would fame and wealth avail
If you could not share them with me.
And with me down life's stream sail ?
Chorus.—Leave me not in anger, darling,
8ay not that we two must part;
For ’twould be a cruel death-blow
To a fond and loving heart.
Leave me not in anger, darling,
For the words were rashly said;
And if you should now forsake me,
I would wish that I were dead.
For 'twas jealous anger drove me
To the words that gave you pain;
If you will but grant me pardon,
It shall happen ne'er again.
Chorus.—Leave me not in anger, etc.
the beau with sisters.
He is the most Difficult of all Lovers
to Please.
The man who has sisters hag a better opportunity
of selecting a wife than the man who has none, but
is, in nine cases out of ten, more difficult to please.
In daily contact with members of the other sex,
who display all their little foibles before him, he is
apt to judge his sisters’s friends by the same
standard wherewith he daily judges his sisters
not a very logical method of procedure, but, I think
not an unnatural one. And, be it remembered,
that if the young man’s sisters are paragons of
amiability and unimpeachable as to dress, he can
not help seeing them occasionally out of temper
with somebody, and indifferently dressed when
there are no strangers in the house. No man is a
hero to his valet de chambre and no sister is a
heroine to her brother. He is very fond of her—
most men are fond of their sisters—but he cannot,
help noticing divers little traits of character which
he suspects
HIS FUTURE BROTHER-IN-LAW
will reap the benefit of when the first gloss of the
honeymoon has worn off, and the young couple set
tle down to the everydav affairs of married life.
If his sister is a beauty, all the more is he suspi.
cious of the other sex. He hears his friends go
into raptures over the young lady, and he is in no
way displeased that some one related to himself is
a favorite in society; but he straightway makes up
his mind that women are very deceptive. He
knows all about, it; has been behind the scenes, and
has seen the fair performer studying the droop of
a ringlet, the fall of a skirt. Her art may have
been concealed from the world with consummate
skill, but he has not. been deceived, for the very
good reason that nobody has thought it worth her
while to deceive him. lie thinks she will marry
well; he hopes she will; and he wonders very much
whether the chosen one of his own heart will, in
the privacy of domestic life, manifest a taste for
pickles and a tendency to suck pepperment lozenges.
He hopes for the best, but secretly he helieves the
very worst.
Some of them know better, I hope; for how can
all women be alike if all men are not? The fact is,
as every one who has studied womankind with any
attention knows, that women are not all alike—
not alike in appearance, not alike in temper, nor
alike in tastes. Seldom have we known a woman
averse to flattery, but there are beings of the
very superior sex who will box your ears soundly
if you venture to hint, in the most delicate manner
possible, that they are not absolute frights. I know
a woman of showy appearance and considerable
accomplishments who avows openly that at thirty-
one she is no longer a young lady. She is a mar
vel, and would be perfect if she had not a most
abominable temper. Most men have a temper of
their own, and they are apt to show it when there
is very little occasion for the display.
WOMEN ALSO HAVE A TEMPER,
which is kept very carefully in check before com
puny, and given full license to before brothers,
sisters, el hoc genus omne. The brother with sis
ters knows this, and if he be engaged, trembles
when he thinks perhaps his Dulcinnea has a tem
per which will be none the colder for having been
nursed a long time. In justification of the hesita
tion of the young man with sisters, I must remind
the reader that he is thrown very much in the
way of hearing bits of gossip which, perhaps, are
never intended to reach his ears, and which by
no means tends to exalt the characters of his sis
ters’ companions in his eyes. He does not listen
of malice prepense, but he can not help catching
stray comments on the behavior and character of
young ladies upon whom, perhaps, he has already
cast the eyes of admiration, if not the glances of
fathomless love. “Vain little creature, that Lizzie!
Fancies
THE GENTLEMEN ADMIRE HER,
and she hasn’t a tress of real hair on her head 1”
“Julia is downright mercenary, and would marry
her grandfather if it were lawful and he had plenty
of money; she told me so,” and so on. Very diffi
cult for the young gentleman to makeup his mind
regarding the question of matrimony, is it not?
And yet, if he were to ask his sisters, who are in
the main good-natured, whether Lizzie or Julia
were as bad as she had been sketched, they would
unhesitatingly say no, and declare that both young
ladies were models of whatsoever is modest and
virtuous, and of good report among men; whereat
their brother would marvel greatly. Every man
knows that among the young of his sex a habit ob
tains of criticising with more originality than po
liteness the personal appearance and mental qual
ities of the ladies who are honored with the ac
quaintance of the youthful speakers. Generally,
the younger the man the more out spoken he is.
He will have no half measures—if he has been
snubbed by Miss Smith he has it out on Miss
Smith over his pipe, among his acquaintances.
She is plain, she is affected, she has a bad temper,
SHE IS CONCEITED.
If, on the other hand, he is smitten with the
charms of Miss Smith, there is no word in the
English vocubulary sufficient to express his ad
miration for the adorable creature. Sampson in
the toils of Delilah was not more infatuated with
his enslaver than he is. His good-natured friends,
in their endeavor to moderate the love fever of
their companion, cry down the object of his af
fection and insinuate that she does not care one
penny for him—that she is keeping a wealthy lov
er in the background—and that, after all, Miss
Smith is not worth an honest man’s heartache.
If Miss Smith could hear all that is said for and
against her in the bachelor's smoking room, I im
agine she would bea wiser if not a happier woman.
Miss Smith’s brother hears, of course, nothing dis
paraging to his sister, but he has before now heard
Jones’ sister and Brown’s sister subjected to the
fiery ordeal, and can pretty well guess how his
own is likely to fare when subjected to the inevi
table process. The knowledge does not inspire
him with unbounded confideuce in women. He
giv-s one or two of his friends credit for a little
shrewdness in these matters, and when he hears a
young lady styled stupid, or conceited, or slovenly,
or bad-mannered, or addicted to the use of fiction
in the course of ordinary conversation, he pauses,
he considers. All this may be only their fun—
they menu nothing against the young lady, who.
peradventure, is as innocent ot the vices attributed
Yj'to her as Baron Grant says he is of bribing the
city editors; but mud will stick if you only throw
enough of it. He becomes melancholy, cynical;
he eschews the society of young ladies, and addicts
himself to the cultivation of a beard and the study
of theology. He sees his sisters married with a
placid pity for the several bridegrooms; he makes
neat speeches at the wedding breakfasts, he pre
sents each of the brides on the appropriate occasion
with a handsome token of his love and affection—
and there his connection with the state of holy
matrimony may be said very often to end. If he
is wealthy he makes a very good and useful bach
elor uncle; but it is questionable whether, under
any circumstances, he would be converted iDto an
exemplary husband. He knows too much.
[For The Sunny South.1
flUPID AND ZELOS.
Why Lovers are Jealous, and also Mar
ried Folks.
BY R. M. O.
Cupid was one day boasting that he shot as
deep and strong an arrow, and was as true of
aim as either Apollo or Diana. Zelos admitted
that he was a pretty good marksman, but that he
thought he could shoot about as well as he, and
that his arrows would sink about as deep into
the hearts of his victims, and cause them as
much pain and anxiety as his did pleasure and
desire. "In fact,” said Zelos, “I can shoot so
deep into a heart that, if your arrow is in there
also, I can make the victim pull it out and break
it for spite or a desire to vex, and let mine re
main, though it may give or bring sorrow. For
you must know, Cupid, that mortals are so full
of self-love, self-esteem, self-approbation and
self-admiration that many times they hurt their
heads to injure their hearts; or, as the vulgar
mortals would say, ‘ they cut off their nose to
spite their face.’ ”
“I do not exactly understand you,” remarked
Cupid, “and you will please explain yourself a
little more clearly.”
“I mean,” said Zelos, “that tho deeper you
send your arrow of love into the heart of your
victim, the more sure I am to sink one just as
deep close by. Do you not know that jealousy
is born of love? And the deeper, the stronger,
the more intense the love, the more jealous I
can make the victim.”
“That is very strange,” said Cupid. “I
thought deep, strong love drove out jealousy.
Why, my mother, Venus, is not at all jealous of
her husband, Vulcan, and I don’t know whether
he is jealous of her, but I think not. What are
you smiling about, Zelos?”
“ Oh, nothing in particular,” raid Zelos, “but
I was only thinking what a little innocent you
are. Why, you little rascal, I don’t want to hurt
your feelings, but you are not the son of Vulcan;
your mother is not given to but a very little
jealousy, and then only to one or two of her
greatest admirers. She never gives poor Vulcan
a thought, but like a great many mortals, is
more noted for her good looks, agreeable ways
and insinuating manners than for her virtue.”
“You shock me,” said Cupid, “for in the
name of all the gods who then is my father?”
“Rather hard to tell,” replied Zelos, “but
you can claim Jupiter, Mercury, Porus, Mars,
or Zephyrus; you can take any you choose, but
I am of the opinion that Mars can lay more
claim to you than any one else. He is a hand
some fellow, warlike in his nature, quite a favor
ite among the goddesses and a great admirer
and attendant upon your mother. Yon inherit
his love of arms, but not to use them as he does;
he goes for depopulating the world, while you
are engaged in the more pleasant duty of seeing
that it is peopled in the right way.”
“ But we have digressed from our subject,
and as I was going on to say before you inte:-
rupted me about your mother, there can be no
deep pure love without jealousy. Love, of all
the passions, is the most exacting and suspi
cious, and where a lover manifests no emotion
or is seemingly indifferent to the actions of the
one he or she loves, put it down that your arrow
has made but a slight impression. The same is
true of husbands and wives. No husband—if
he loves his wife—can tolerate the idea that he
is ranked by the regards his wife has for another
man. And it is just as true of the wife; she is
quite sensitive to the attentions of her husband
when she finds him always more complimentary
to other women than to herself. Where both
are given to flirtations there can be no love.”
“ Ah ! that accounts for the trouble I find with
a certain class that are called coquets and flirts,”
remarked Cupid. “ My arrows only went
through the pericardium that covers the heart
and not to the heart itself. That is why I have
wasted so many arrows upon them, for I never
saw the wound I made—for I made Done.”
“ And for the same reason,” remarked Zelos,
“ I never waste an arrow upon such creatures.
I shoot to test the depth of your arrows and the
impressions they have made. When I see the
girl orman serious and sober when in company
of those they love, I take it for granted there is
love about. But when lovers have smiles for
any and everybody, and take pains to impress
all they come in contact with, I know at once
their hearts are as hollow as an inflated balloon
and about as light.”
“ Widows, Cupid, are not much given to co
quetry ; they know what they want and generally
mean business, and have no patience with you
masculine minnows who are continually nibbl
ing at the bait but will never take hold and
swallow.”
Twenty-Seven Odd Supersti
tions About Marriage.
vails in some parts of England and our own
country. In China marriages are positively pro
hibited at certain times and seasons, on account
of their being unlucky.
There was at one time a superstitious current
in England against marrying on Innocent’s Day,
the 28th of December, a day of ill-omen, be
cause it was the one which commemorated He
rod’s massacre of the children. And it is still
thought unlucky to marry in Lent. “Marry in
Lent, and you'll live to repent.” An old line
also says, “ May never was ye month of love,”
and another, “ Who marries between ye sickle
and ye scythe will never thrive.” The old
rhyme that we have all heard tells us to marry
on
“ Monday for wealth,
Tuesday for health,
Wednesday the best day of all;
Thursday fur crosses,
Friday for losses,
Saturday no luck at all.”
At one time it was thought that all those who
married on Tuesdays and Thursdays would be
happy. Among the Romans no marriage was
celebrated without an augury being first con
sulted.
In the middle ages it was considered an ill
omen if the bridal party in going to church met
a monk, priest, hare, dog, cat, lizzard or ser
pent; while all would go well if a wolf, spider or
toad were encountered.
It is lucky if the initials of a wedded couple
spell a word.
In the south of England it is said to be un
lucky for a bride to look in a glass after she is
completely dressed before she goes to the church,
so a glove or some other article is put on after
the last look has been taken at the mirror. Gray
horses at a wedding are lucky. It is supposed
to be unlucky if a wife does not weep on her
wedding day. In Scotland it is considered an
unhappy omen if a couple are disappointed in
getting married on the day first fixed for the
purpose.
In the Isle of Man it iB believed that it insures
good luck to carry salt in the pocket when going
to be married. At Hull it is considered unlucky
to go in at one door and go out at another when
a person gets married.
Whoever goes to sleep first on the wedding
night will die first.
If there is an odd number of guests at a wed
ding, one is sure to die within the succeeding
twelve months.
Since marriage became an institution, says the
Hartford Courant, there have been certain signs
and superstitions that have clung to its celebra
tion through all ages and in all countries. Even
to-day, in the most civilized nations, we have
not entirely rid our minds of these superstitions,
and I warrant there is never a bride but indulges
herself in looking for some happy omen. Eew
people are dauntless enough to be married on
Friday, and we all have the most unlimited con
fidence in that old shoe thrown after the newly-
wedded pair. Nearly every bride of to-day
wears about her when she is married, some tri
fling thing borrowed from a lady friend, and all
know that “ blest is the bride on whom the sun
doth shine,” and are equally certain that
“ To change the name and not the letter
Is a change for the worse and not for the better."
So on, quite indefinitely, it is wonderful how
these ancient signs are handed down from gen
eration to generation, and how impotent reason
is to do away with their hold upon the human
mind. But let us recall a few of the olden be
liefs concerning marriage superstitions:
In the earliest weddings we read of among the
Jews we find that the fourth day of the week
was considered the unlucky day for the virgins
to wed, and the fifth for the widows. The Ro
mans also believed that certain days were unfa
vorable for the performance of marriage rites,
and these were the Calends, Nodes and Ides of
every month, the whole months of February and !
May, and many of their festivals. June was
considered the most propitious month of the ;
year for matrimony, especially if the day chosen ;
were that of the full moon, or the conjunction
of the sun and moon.
'The month of May was especially to be avoid
ed, as it was under the influence of spirits ad
verse to happy households, and for centuries
this superstition seemed to prevail in Italy
against May marriages, and even to this day pre-
The Road to a Father’s Heart—How
a Young Man Got a Wife.
Jacob Bliven is a young man who lived in
Newport; he was desperately in love with
Amelia , and Amelia was said to fully reci
procate the youth’s attachment. Jacob thought
it was time to broach the subject to Amelia’s
father, who was unaware that Bliven’s uncle
had died two weeks before, leaving Jake a hand
some legacy. The young man, with Amelia on
his arm, came into the awful presence of the
father.
“Good evening, Col. Sellers,” said Blivens,
hesitatingly, while Amelia grew scarlet.
“Eh!’ exclaimed the old gentleman, looking
up, and his piophetic soul telling him what was
coming. “ What’s this?”
“ Why, Amelia and me
“Amelia!” interrupted the old man, “by dad!
how the young dogs do get familiar on short ac
quaintance; it was ‘Miss’ Amelia a week ago.
“Yes‘ sir; but things hev changed since last
week,” said Blivens boldly, “an’ we’ve come to
ask your consent—”
“Diabolical wretch! ”
Amelia here commenced her part by stopping
the old man's mouth with a kiss.
“Your consent,” continued Blivens, taking
Amelia by the hand and kneeling by the “stern
parent,s ” feet, “ to be join-/? in the bond of —
“Perniciouscaitiff! but cfmj* house .'%riec!
Col. Sellers, wildly. “D’ye think my daughter
shall marry a beggar?”
“Oh, just hold up a minute; you git s’easy
that nobody’ can tell yoa nothin’,” said poor
Blivens. “My uncle died ”
“And what the deuce did he die for?” said
Col. Sellers.
“ I didn’t ask him, sir; but bein’ as he is dead,
and Amelia loves me, and—”
“Mendacious parvenu! Do you love this
villain, Amelia?”
“Yes, papa,” replied the fair Amelia, blush-
ingly.
“ I’ll disown you for it,’’said Col. Sellers. “I
expected greater things of you.”
“Well, as I was saying,” Blivens went on,
“she loves me an’ I love her, an’ we both love
each other, an’ we want your consent.”
This was very bold in Blivens, and the old
man didn’t.
Amelia looked hopefully at her Jake, and Jake
looked anxiously at Amelia’s papa.
"‘And if you marry her, what have you got in
the way of furniture?” at length said Col. Sel
lers, “a piccadilly collar and a boiled shirt, I
suppose.”
“No, sir, I’ve got eight piceadillys and five
shirts,” replied Jacob after a moment's hesita
tion, “besides ten thousand dollars that my
uncle left me, and—’’
“What! my dear Jacob, why, my dear boy,
bless your dear heart, why the deuce didn't you
say so before ?” cried the old man, shaking Bli
vens by the hand.
“ Here, Amelia. Take her, young man, and
may heaven bless you both.”
It is reported that Col. Sellers has asked his
son-in-law for a loan of nine thousand dollars,
and that Jake has refused and taken his wife to
St. Louis, where he intends to be free from
father-in-lawism.
my cheek, or at the end of my nose, or, in fact, on
any place where it might be considered a blemish.
When I was a child I came near killing myself
one night, by going to bed with two large bottle
corks thrust into my nostrils to make them large
like other boys’ and have made my mouth sore by
stretching it with my fingers, or forcing melon-
rinds into it, to enlarge it. But it was useless;
perhaps the mouth might be sore for a couple of
days, but its shape remained unaltered.
Nov; that 1 am a man. I am as unfortunate as
ever. My hair will curl, even when shaved with
in half an inch of the scalp; my moustache will
stay jet-black, although I sometimes wax the ends
of with soap, and walk on the sunny side of the
street; my teeth are perfect, and I never need a
demist, and my hands are “shameful for a man,”
so all my old-maid aunts and bachelor-uncles say.
My affections have been trifled with several
times, “because,” as they said, when they had
drawn me to the proposing point, I “was too hand
some to be good for anything as a husband—I did
very well for a beau.” Goodness 1 is it only ugly
men that can marry ? I want to marry and settle
down; for I am so slighted in society that I look
with envy upon homely or mis-shapen men.
But who will have me? I put it to you, my
friend, if it isn’t a hard case. I want an intelligent
and agreeable wife, and one that comes of a respec
table family. I don’t think I am asking too much,
but it seems fate has determined such a one 1 can
never have 1 I have either to remain single or
take one that is “ignorant and vulgar.” That, of
course, would be as much remarked upon as my
appearance, so it cannot bethought of.
I want to escape observation and criticism. I
think strongly of emigrating to the Black Hills,
donning a rough garb, and digging for gold, in the
hope of getting round-shouldered; or hiring myself
out for a wood-chopper, in anticipation of a chip
flying up and taking off part of my obnoxious nose.
If there were no women around, I might escape
notice out there. But if one happened to come
along, I should be obliged to leave, for her eyes
would feiret out my unfortunate peculiarities, and
all my wounds would be opened afresh. Some
times I think there is no spot on the globe where
l would be welcome; and I feel inclined to commit
some desperate deed, that I may be arrested and
confined out of the sight of man and womankind,
until 1 am aged and bent enough to be presentable.
The
Centennial Main
Stand.
Building to
Miseries of a Handsome Man.
Ever since my earliest recollections I nave been
a victim to circumstances.
Beauty, whii h others desire and try every means
to obtain, to me has been a source of untold misery
From my infaacy, when ugly women with horrid
breaths would stop my nurse in the streets and in
sist upon kissing me—through my school days
when the girls would part me and offer me a share
of their nuts and candies, and the boys laugh at
me in consequence, and call me “gal-boy,” squirt
ink upon my face for beauty spots, and present me
with curl papers and flowers for my hair—until
the present, when I am denied introductions to
young ladies and am put off on old women—I have
suffered for my looks.
In my boardinghouse I am shunned as if I had
the plague. When I enter the parlor or dining
room, 1 see the ladies look at each other with a
knowing air as much as to say, “Look at him!”
And the answer is telegraphed back, “Ain’t he
handsome? but he knows it,” as if I could help
knowing it with every one telling me so fifty times
a day; and husbands pay unusual attention to their
wives when I am around, as if 1 were an ogre.
I am naturally a modest man, made more so by
my extreme sensitiveness to personal criticism;
and to be obliged to stand apparently unconscious,
when I know 1 am being looked at and commented
upon, is harrowing to my feelings. I feel some
times as if 1 should drop down on the floor, but
then folks would never stop laughing if I did, at
what they would be pleased to term my extreme
lady likeness I I have actually prayed that I
might get the small-pox, and once walked through
the small-pox hospital for that purpose, but escaped
unharmed.
I suppose I must have been vaccinated In fact,
I know I have been, for how often have I looked
at the scar on my arm, and wished it had been on
The Park Commissioners have adopted the
following resolutions:
Resolved, That if the committee of citizens
that appeared before this Commission shall or
ganize a corporation satisfactory to this Com
mission, shall purchase, own and possess the
Main Building, fronting on Elm avenue, on or
before the first of January next, and shall desire
to use it for the purpose of a public exhibition,
this Commission is willing to give such company
a license so to do, together with forty feet of
ground around the entire building. No build
ing of any kind will be located on the aforesaid
forty feet without the consent of the Park Com
mission, and upon terms and conditions to be
hereinafter agreed upon, in addition to the fol
lowing which are specifically declared:
First. That the said building shall be re
moved and the grounds restored at the expense
of the corporation within two years after notice
from the Park Commission.
Second. That the building and grounds shall
be kept in good order and be surrounded by an
iron or suitable railing, satisfactory to the Park-
Commission, if required by them.
Third. That the Park police shall at all times
have access to the building and grounds for po
lice purposes, and the Park Commission and
any cteaihat- thereof, at ail times.
Fourth. That this license is only given for the
purposes of an exhibition, for the pleasure and
instruction of the public, and not for the sale of
goods, except such as are necessary for carrying
out such design.
Fifth. That all laws, ordinances, rules and
regulations relating to Fairmount Park shall be
strictly observed.
Sixth. That this license shall not be construed
to dispense with any special permission required
by law, ordinance or rule.
Seventh. That the maximum charge for ad
mission shall be twenty-five cents for five days
in the week, and each Saturday ten cents shall
be the maximum charge, and if the revenues
derived shall be in excess of the amount re
quired to pay needful expenses, additions, main
tenance, with six per cent, interest upon the ac
tual capital invested by the company, then the
admission fee shall be reduced, so that the pub
lic may enjoy the exhibition at the lowest possi
ble cost.
Eighth. That no claim, demand or liability,
either present and prospective, shall exist or be
made against the city of Philadelphia or the
Park Commission.
Ninth. That the violation of any of the con
ditions of this license shall authorize the Com
mission to revoke the same and to require the
removal of the building forthwith.
Beautiful Tribute of a Dying
Wife to Her Husband.
The following most touching fragment of a let
ter from a dying wife to her husband, was found
by him some months after her death, between the
leaves of a religious volume, which she was very
fond of perusing. The letter, which was literally
dim with tear-marks, was written long before the
husband was avare that the grasp of a fatal dis
ease had fastened upon the lovely form of his wife,
who died at the early age of nineteen :
“When this shall reach your eye, dear G ,
some day when you are turning over the relics of
the past, I shall have passed away forever, and the
cold white stone will be keeping its lonely watch
over lips that you have so often pressed, and the
sod will be growing green that shall hide forever
from your sight the dust of one who has often
nestled close to your warm heart. For many long
an i sleepless nights, when all my thoughts were
at rest l have wrestled with the consciousness of
approaching death, until at last it has forced itself
on my mind. Although to you and to others it
might now seem but the nervous imagination of a
girl, yet, dear G , it is so ! Many weary hours
have 1 passed in the endeavor to reconcile myself
to leaving you, whom I love so well, and this
bright world of sunshine, and hard indeed it is to
struggle on with the sure conviction that 1 am about
to leave all forever .and go down alone into
of earth—you shall mingle with the bright glimpses
of the unfading glories of that better world, where
partings are unknown. Well do I know the spot,
dear G , where you will lay me; often have we
stood by the place, as we watched the mellow sun
set, as it glanced in quivering flashes through the
leaves, and burnished the grassy mounds around
us with strips of gold. Each perhaps, has thought
that one of us would come alone; and whichever
it might be your name would be on the stone. We
loved the spot, and 1 know that you will love it
none the less when you see the same quiet sunlight
and gentle breeze play among the grass that grows
over your Mary's grave. I know that you will go
oftener alone there, when I am laid there, and my
spirit shall be with you theu, and whisper among
the waving branches, “Not lost, but gone before.”
A Romantic Story.
Forty years ago there lived in Providence,
within a stone’s throw from where Grace church
now stands, a young man of great intelligence
and wonderful mechanical ability, who spent a
small fortune in the vain attempt at making a
perfect representation of Russia iron, and after
as many failures as attempts in this undertak
ing, he became utterly ruined financially. His
ambition for the secret increased as his fortune
grew smaller and smaller, and when absolute
want stared him in the face he became possessed
of the determination to accept of the only means
of obtaining one of the greatest secrets in me
chanical art, and to gain this he must suffer
penal servitude in the dungeons of Russia.
The rulers of Russia are the only possessors
of the art of making what is known as glazed
Russia iron, used extensively for all kinds of
stove and stove-pipe work, and which has for
nearly a century been made within the walls of
Russia’s underground prisons. None but life-
convicts are allowed to be initiated into the
secrets of the manufacture of one of the princi
pal means of income to the Russian government,
and when once within its walls, no one need
ever hope for pardon, for none has ever been
granted, while but one has ever been known to
have escaped, and when the door has been once
shut to the outside world, it is never known
what has been the fate of the unfortunate.
This, then, was the Providence man’s last re
sort for gaining possession of the secret which
had become his only ambition. He left his Home
lor Europe, and the simple rumor of the attempt
ed assassination of the Czar by an American,
supposed to be insane, was all that was ever
known to his friends of what became of the am
bitious mechanic, and as nearly half a century
has rattled on since he set out on his perilous
undertaking, hardly a person living will remem
ber the circumstance which is here recorded.
There is one person, however, in Providence
who remembers well the day the hero of our
sketch bade her a tearful farewell, promising
that before she reached her twentieth birthday
he would return to her and fulfil his promise.
All through these long years she has never
forgotten her promise to wait for her lover, nor
ceased to believe that he would yet come to
her. She now lives within a moment's walk of
the chimes of Grace church, and is still well pre
served, and her grace and beauty make her more
attractive than many whose years are the same
as were hers when ner lover separated frerm her
so long ago. Last week she received the glad
tidings Irom far away over the water that he
who had kept her so long patiently waiting was
on his way to fulfill his promise of forty years
ago; and let us hope he may bring the secret he
so dearly paid for, and that he may live to see
some reward for his great sacrifice.—Providence
Press.
Come Laugh with Me.—What is more pleasant
to the ear than the sound of joyous laughter?
When it comes rippling on the air, mingled
with the voices of little children, it brings be
fore us a picture of innocent glee.
We have heard it said, and believe it true,
that woman has no natural gift more bewitching
than sweet and unaffected laughter.
Then why is it that young people never laugh
aloud ? Because they are mincing simpletons,
and think it vulgar to do more than smirk si
lently at a joke that should wring from them
peals of laughter, were they not disgustingly
affected. When we say laugh we do not mean
that you should indulge in shouts or roars—for
they are vulgar.
We once read of a philosopher who said that
he could tell a man’s disposition by his laugh,
and that he invariably found that the ill-bred
person’s laugh was “ Ho 1 ho ! ho 1” and the fool’s
laugh was “He ! he ! he 1” and the honest, sin
cere man’s laugh, which is seldom unpleasant to
hear, was a hearty “ Ha ! ha ! ha 1”
A sweet, womanly langh is like “the sound
of flutes on the water.”
Sometimes a joyous laugh that has been heard
months, perhaps years before, will come to us
in the midst of care and sorrow, carrying onr
thoughts back to a past pleasure, or to a scene
of childish merriment, and ringing in onr hearts
like silver bells, taking our memories back to
the poetry of childho<£.
How much would we not give in sad and
lonely moments for the solace of a happy laugh !
What is more exhilarating than a greeting
from loved ones of joyous laughter, which leaps
from the lips in clear, musical mirth, and fills
the weary heart with sunshine and delight, as
refreshing as cool sparkling water to a parched
tongue.
Then let us enjoy lively laughter, instead of
crushing a gift which carries with it to mortals
so much of Heaven’s happiness. And to those
who snefir at our sentiments, we will say: Teach
yourselves to laugh freely, and you will no lon
ger be “affected simpletons,” afraid of dislodg
ing false-hair, false-teeth, false-complexion and
false-dignity, in the prim stiffness of which you
look like “ hogs in armor ” more than like sen
sible beings. Bertha Elizabeth Peck.
PERSONALS.
Kate Putnam is the wife of John J. Sullivan.
Patti goes to some Paris theatre nearly every
night.
The original “Uncle Tom,” the Rev. Josiah
Henson, is lecturing in England.
Some of the stage folks call Anna Dickinson
“ a reformed lecturess.”
President Thomas A. Scott, of the Pennsyl
vania Railroad Company, has c mtributed $10,000 to the
Centennial fund in aid of the Washington and Lee Cni-
the ' versity at Lexington, Ya.
dark valley ! But l know in whom 1 have trusted;
and leaning upon His arm I fear no evil. Don’t
blame me for keeping even all this from you How
could I subject you, of all others, to such sorrow
as I feel at parting when time will soon make it
apparent to you? I cuuld have wished to live, if
Mary Fairfax Somerville, the mathematician,
was greatlv esteemed in Naples, where she lived for a long
time. Her daughter is about to erect a monument, a seated
portrait statue, to her memory in that city.
The Presbyterian Synod of Central Illinois
has sustaiued the decision of the Peoria Presbytery, de
posing the Rev. J. II. Glendenuing. formerly of Jersey
only to be at your side when your time shall come. ! City from the pastorship of the church at Henry, 111.
and, pillowing your head upon my breast, wipe the A private letter from Berlin states that Prince
i V $ u i MQ u u / Bismarck's nervous system has been seriously impaired,
death-damps from your brow, and usher you | an( | hj,, condition causes great anxiety to bis family and
departing spirit to its Maker's presence, embalmed immediate friends who have beeu apprised of the fact,
in woman’s boliest prayer. But it is not to be sj | Tapper has four sons and three daughters.
—and I submit. Yours is the privilege of watch- \ The daughters have written a volume of *■ Poems by Three
iug through lougand dreary nights, for the spirit s j Sisters, as well as “Translations from the Swedish and
c . . <■ Original Poems." etc. They also contribnte to various
final flight, and of transferring my sinking head magazines and newspapers.
front your breast to my Savior’s bosom And you ^ theo)(>gica , d , partmPnt „f the University
sU ili share ray last thoughr, ihe lust feeb.e kiss , 0 f rh e South, at Sewanee. Terra., will be opened in March,
shall be yours; and even when flesh and heart shall ]g;7. the faculty consisting of the Rev. George F. Wilm-r,
fail me, my eyes shall rest on yours until glazed D D.. Professor of Systematic Divinity; the Rev. D. G.
, , . j . . , , . Haskins. ProGssor o r Ecclesiastical History and Dean;
by death; and our spirits shad hold one last com- and the Rev vv ,, Du Boee> Profeaeor of ''Hebrew, Ex-
munion until gently fading Irom my view the last j egesis and Homiletics.
INSTINCT PRINT