Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

-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