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THE SUNNY SOUTH.
Heart Flowers.
BY THOMAS WATSOS.
How calm is the twilight. The darkening clouds
*<» In the west lie lazily piled ;
Fight steals o'er each'like a mother who t>enda
O'er the couch of her slumbering child.
Aroused from Its rest, the zephyr floats by
With murmurings plaintive and light,
Till, weary again, it sinks with a sigh
To sleep bn the bosom of night.
My fiery gray has slackened his tread,
And white lies the foam on his side;
Right gallantly high has he carried his head
Through all of this desperate ride.
The river runs by us—the ripples that beat
The shore with their varying tone
Now rise in a laugh, like an elf at its plav—
Now sink to an echo less moan.
There are chords, deep within us, that never are
stirred
’Mid the tumult and rush of the day :
There are feelings which drop not the veils from
their checks
Till the sunlight has faded away—
Then, alone with the beauty and stillness of night,
Those chords they are thrilled once again :
Old feelings, unveiled, move forth to the light,
With a loveliness chastened by pain.
Long ago, longago, while the hyacinths bloomed.
One 1 met whom I haven't forgot:
Whose face wore a purity, chsstened, serene,
Which the hyacinth's cheeg rivalled not.
I could boast of no wealth save the blood in my
veins.
And the hopes that bloomed in my heart,
But I thought that the faith which she plighted
to me
Was a wealth that could never depart.
For her I went forth to the battle of life
And her scarf on my helmet she hung.
While softly she said. “I know you will strike
In the van where the foremost are strung.”
How fondly I panted to win me a wreath
As pure as the star’s holy sheen.
And earn her glad smile as I laid it with pride
On the brow of my beautiful queen !
So I went on my way, and the traces of woe
III her breast did the passing time hide;
Like a track on the seashore constantly washed
By the pitiless flow of the tide.
That was many years since, and the face that I
loved
Is veiled by the mists of the years:
We suffer indeed when we bury a care
Too deep for the tribute oi tears—
And yet there are times when my spirit in gloom
Gathers sadly its hopes that have died ;
Unveiling the idols it worshipped so well
And the fair sweet face of its bride.
And then there’s within us a silence as still
As the hush of a motionless wave:
And memories move softly with cheeks that are
pale.
For they know that they walk on a grave,
And to-night, oh! to-night, as I ride thro’ the
gloom.
Her voice seems to breathe on the air:
I can feel the warm clasp of a white trusting
hand,
Catch the fragrance of dark, flowing hair.
Oh, bitter despair that leaps from a grave,
Subside in thy turbulent swell,
Like the tide when it hears the low voice of the
moon
And ebbs to her silvery spell.
A TEXAS ADVENTURE.
Wild Honey and tlie Bear’s Den.
Four of us, my ranch partner, Alfred Dins-
more, and myself, and a German house-car
penter named West Anspach, and a colored
boy named “Grant” had set out that day for
a load of honey.
A load of honey will sound oddly, perhaps,
to readers East, but that is the way we get
it here. Wild honey, rich stores of it, is laid
up by the native bees. The settlers often
have resort to a “bee-tree” when their stock
of sugar and molasses runs low. The honey
is drained from the comb and put away in
jars, and the wax makes excellent candles.
Twelve or thirteen miles up north of our
location, in the canon of Lipan creek (head
quarters of Wichita river,) there is a “bees’
nest,” which has supplied us and the families
of three other stockmen for the last four
years.
This enormous bee-hive is in the cliff on
the north side of the canon, fronting south.
The entrance of it is up some forty feet
above the creek bed, where there is a hori
zontal crack eight or ten inches wide, run
ning along the face of the precipice for 4oo or
500 feet.
This crack opens back its recesses in the
shattered crags behind; and here the bees,
colony on colony, have their nests and have
laid up honey for many years.
By going round and operating from the
top of the cliff, we have at odd times dis
lodged considerable portions of the rock with
blasts of gunpowder and crowbars— sufficient
to secure many hogsheads of comb.
Still deeper down, in great pits and holes,
there seems to be a vast deposit of old, thick,
candied honey, which had been drained from
the tiers of comb above, year after year.
Lower down the face of the cliff, the
honey, especially on very hot days weeps
and oozes out at little cracks and seams of
the fissured sandstone—so much so that the
creek bank is tljere completely honey-soaked,
and the water for a mile or two below will
at times be perceptibly sweetened.
Much of this escaping honey the bees them
selves oarry back up the face of the cliff.
On a pleasant June day, the canon and
high above it, the air, will be darkened by
the incoming and outgoing clouds of bees,
millions on millions of them, along the whole
length of the crevice. The ordinary drowsy
hum of a hive is here intens fi d to a deep,
solemn roar, distinctly audible a mile below.
To go honey gathering there on a summer
day might be a perilous business. We have
always made our raids on the nest during the
cold weather, generally on some chilly day
toward Christmas when the bees are lying
torpid and a winter silence has fallen upon
this whole vast apiary.
It was one of the last days of November,
and when we started that morning the
weather was quite warm almost “muggy.”
with a thin, bluish fog rising from the prairie,
which had lately been burned over and lay
coal-black under feot.
But we Jiad not gone more than eight cr
ten miles when a “norther” came down onus
in full blast. The first we saw of it was a
sudden whirling of the fog over the tops of a
belt of mezquits to our left. Then came a
puff of cold air as damp and chilling as when
m summer one steps into a cellar.
A minute later this monitory whiff was
followed by a second puff, a perfect gust,
which sent our hats whirling, and upset the
hogsheads off (he spring-board.
The norther was upon us!
That is the way these freezing gales al
ways come here; sometimes they .don’t even
give one time to get on one’s great-coat and
mittens. How cold they are, and how they
cut through a body! In a half an hour the
mercury will fall forty and fifty degrees.
Often rain, sleet, and sometimes suow
eorae with it.
No one tries to do anything during a
norther here. You cannot even get a black
smith to shoe your horse while a norther is
blowing, and it often blows three days at a
time.
Tne folks “den up,” and keep a great fire
going. You will not see a person stirring
anywhere, no old settler at least, even in the
villnge.
TT ben the norther struck U3, we set out to
go b ck home; but, as the canon was now no
very great distanceahead, we drove on and
got into that at a place about two miles be
low the “great bees’ nest.”
The cliffs here broke the force of the gale,
and selecting a spot where a big rick of drift
stuff had been lodged against the rocks by
fl ods. we built a roaring fire, and made a
shed, partly of the half hogsheads and spring
boards and partly of the drift-wood and
brush. Here we made ourselves comforta
ble, gave the mules their corn, and had no
thoughts of going on thepriarie for honey, or
anything else, while the gale held.
The crag on the side against which we had
our fire was six-’y on seventy feet high, but.
as 1 have mentioned above, was here ail
along much fissured and cracked showing
crevices and crannies where the broken stra
ta had worked apart, about three and four
feet in width. The drift rock which served
us for for woodpile burned well, the blaze
mounting half way up to the cliff and cast
ing a warm glow back into our shed.
Here, throughout the rest of the day and
evening, while the gusts howled across the
canon from out over the prairie to the
north’ard, we lay at our ease and to^l sto
ries, going sound asleep at last, wrapped up
in our buffalo skins.
Some hours must have passed, for our big
fire had burned down low, when I was
roused by a scratching, raking noise on the
rocks in front of our shed. Before I was yet
half awake, something—it was so dark 1
could not tell what, but some heavy animal I
felt sure—came down the rocks and fell
partly into the open front of our shed and
right on Anspach’s, the German’s extended
feet and ankles.
With that Wert jumped to get up and we
all arose, fumbling for our gnus. But before
Amse or I or any of us had gained our legs,
down came the shed, and the half-hogsheads
we had brought for our honey, our tUted-up
spring-board wagon, brush and alL
Who had the most to do with knocking it
down, I am sure 1 don’t know. It was a free
scrabble. One of the half-hogsheads tipped
over in such a way as to completely shut
Grant, the colored boy, under it all but his
shanks; and, as the fore wheels of the spring
board lay partly across the bottom of the
hogshead, he was caught fast.
The noise he made was as nothing compared
with the racket the German was making, for
the other half-hogshead had fallen partly
over him, and he was kicking at an unknown
wild beast whose growls mixed with his
shouts.
“Arnse vare bees you?” we heard him call
ing out in reproachful tones.
The moment we had extricated ourselves
from the brush and stakes, Dinsmore and I
sprang to our feet and tried to take in the
situation.
It was toq dark to see much, The brush
was snapping, and the half-hogshead bobbing
up and down; and just then a savage, growl
ing head of some animal was thrust repeat
edly out betwixt the spokes of one of the
hind wheels of the capsized spring-board.
Anse, who had seized upon the camp-ax,
let it drive for the growler’s head. His first
stroke knocked two spoken out of the wheeL
At the next plunge the animal came head
and shoulders through the gap. But I had
secured one of the guns, and, at this juncture
by good luck, shot it.
Almost with the report, Wert, who had,
been making frantic efforts to get out through
the brush on the back side, scrambled to his
feet, shouting:
“Sharles, pe careful vare you shoots 1
Whole dozen dem puck-shots go puzz by my
ear.”
“It’s a bear,” said Alf, peeping between
the spokes of the wheel; but before we had
time to haul out the carcass, or even get
Grant from under the hogs-bead tub, anoth
er bear came sliding down the rocks with a
scratch and a growl, and fell sprawling into
the ashes and still-glowing embers of the fire.
A perfect smother of ashes aud coals flew up.
It must have been a warm lighting for the
old chap’s feet.
He whirled round with a low yelp and
leaped over some logs at the lower end of our
shed. I had just time to cock my left barrel
and fire as his hind legs disappeared over the
logs. We heard him give a growl when the
shot struck him, but had no time to look for
him or even to see where he went to, for
Wert had set up a great outcry.
“Queek, Ansel queek, Charles, mit your
goon! In de holler up ze rock! Do’n you
you hears him yow? Anoder one’s coming
down!”
Sure enough, there was another looking
out of a great fissure, twenty-five or thirty
feet up, growling, and making as if to de
scend ! I could plainly gee its head, and, a
moment after, it turned to come down, tail
first.
“Zhoust you hark, boys,” exclaimed Wert,
“Only hear dem sing!”
If there had been a whole menagerie shut
up back among the rocks it could hardly
have made more music—growling, whining
and roaring.
“There must be an awful big den back in
those rocks, and it’s just b’iling over full of
’..in I”
Every minute or two a head would pop
out in sight from the crevice. The firing
aua tne noise had stirred ihehi up. it loosed
as if the animals had climbed up to this den
over the heap of drift-wood which our fire
had burned up. The smoke and fire filming
up to the mouth of the hole had kept them
in during the first part of the night; or else
they had all been comfortably asleep in
there, passing the norther. But now they
all evidently wanted to come out—hungry,
perhaps.
During the forenoon we got logs and stuff
from the drift ricks lower down, which we
set up in such a way that we could climb to
the entrance of the den. All being quiet
there now, Alf climbed up to reconnoitre the
brutes.
There was a pretty large fissure which
opened up between and over great detached
masses of rock for eighteen or twenty feet.
In back of these, lower down, there seemed
to be a black hole, evidently a considerable
cavern.
I now climbed up, ani together we peeked
about for some time. When we looked down
into the dark hole there would be low growl
ing.
Three or four hours were spent. We found
that it was no use trying to shoot them in
the dark. There was a cave back in there as
large as a hall—a great irregular cavity,
emitting a very strong bearish stench.
In the afternoon we assailed them on a
new tack. Wert and Grant split up a lot of
wood which, with their assistance, we carri
ed up our log ladder, half a cord of it at
least, and then pitched it into the cavern. A
brand was then fetched up. and we soon had
a bonfire going which lighted up the whole
inside of the den. From where we stood up
in the fissure, the bears could now be seen
crouching behind the black bowlders and in
the far corners of the cave, snarling uneasily
at the fire. I counted five, and Alf soon
made out two others.
To shoot game thus cornered up may be
deemed an unsportsmanlikike method of
hunting, but my friend and myself were
troubled by no such scruples.
An hour later we hauled seven bears—dead
ones—out of that cave, which added to those
already secured made ten carcasses!
They were remarkably fat bears, too, with
but one exception. Their flesh had a notice
ably sweet taste, which we attributed to
their getting so much honey hereabouts.
Koumiss.
Koumiss would be a popular drink in the
United States now,if the land of the free,etc.,
imitated its ruler as closesly as England
would, but the receipt for making it is hardly
p'omising enough to make any Yankee de
sire to take very large draughts of it. This
is the formula: Into one quart of new milk
out one gill of fresh buttermilk and three or
four lamps of white sugar. Mix well and
see that the sugar dissolves. Put in a warm
place to stand ten hours, when it will be
thick. Pour from one vessel to another un
11 it becomes smooth and uniform in con
sistency. Bottle and keep in a warm place
twenty-four hours; it may take thirty-six
in winter. The bottles must be tightly cork
ed and the corks tied down. Shake well
five minutes before opening.
An aggravated case of Little Buttercup is
disclosed at Oakland, Tenn. Two sisters,
bom married and living in the same house,
had infant daughters,nearly «f the same age.
A nurse attempted to bathe both together
one morning, and after removing their cloth
ing, she forgot which was which, and no oth
er marks of identity could be discovered. O.ie
of 1 he mothers declares she has the wrong
baby. The other declares she has not, and a
bad feeling has been develop?'! about it.
There is no end to the complications that may
grow out of it. Suppose Mr. Vanderbilt
should leave the daughter of Mrs. Spruce
seventy-nine million dollars; the lawyers
would get all the money in trying to Si ttle
which baby it belongs to. In view of the
possible contingency. Mr. Spruce should serve
a mandamus compelling the nurse to produce
bis daughter, and thus save time and ex
pense.
When two men fight a duel about a woman
there is almost always, somewhere, a third
man, who laughs heartily at their folly, and
while risking nothing gains, perhaps, every
thing.
THE BAC&WOODS.
FAMILIAR LETTERS.
Betsy Hamiltoa to Her Coasia
Salesy-Aboat Mrs. Goodea’g
Sick Baby, and George
Washington Higgins
Going Away.
LETTER NO. 18.
Dear Saleny: Tother day when ole Miss
Green and the chillun come to spend the day
I riz and put up the letter I was a writin’ to
you—and sot the ink high on the pine shelf,
out’n the reach er that gang er hern—and
twas well I did. far she hadn’t been here
long tel here come Miss Gooden and hern—
they kept sich a rackit Flnrridy Tennysy
taken ’em all out to the loom ’ouse and turned
’em loose to play. Gooden come with her
and fetched the baby—little Anonymous—
hit was sick, they taken it to Miss Green’s and
they told ’em she was here. Old Miss Green’s
as good a doctor as the folks in this setel-
ment wants, tel they git skeered then they
send to town for a shore ’nough one, and
sometimes he has bard work ondoin what
she's done with her yarbs. Jist as soon as
ole Miss Green sot eyes on him she ’lowd,
“Why hits hivv—thats what ails it —hits got
the hives sister Gooden, just give it a little cat
nip t ja, if hits handy,but a little ground ivy’ll
do if you haint the catnip. What makes it
cry so ? Come to gran-ma Green—dar
den honey. Open the window shetter,
so the light ken shine on it, daden honey,
let gran-ma see in its little mouth. Why
sister Gooden hits got the thrash too, bless
its little heart, no wonder hit cried, they’d
cry too, wouldn’t they Nonny? Gran-ma
must have a little piece er fat meat. Sister
Gooden get a little piece er fat meat r.nd
smoke it over a light’ood knot, and grease
its little mouth with it, hits the best thing I
know of; and if that don’t scatter it, parch
you some aigg shells and put it with a little
borax water and honey, that’s what town
folks allersuse.”
And then she sot and trotted the baby on
her knee tel hit squalled hit self to sleep. I
haven’t saw Iky Roberson sense I got back
from Sincler to sp< ak to him,but he's « r'.t me
some poetry and sent it by Miss Gooden’s
little Sammy, but Sammy didn’t know it,
fur hit was stuck down in a bunch er wild
flowers. Hit makes me feel bad to think
I can’t love Iky, for he is a good chance.
That was a tine piece of poetry Iky writ, but
1 reckin he read it summers. You never have
saw cousin Thomas H. ? He is a poet. You
can’t name no kind of poetry hardly that 'he
don’t know. He can say er heap that was
wrote by Anonyous the great poet in Mc-
Guffey’s Fifth Eelectrified Reader, and if he
furgets exactly how it was wrote why hit
don’t set him back, he makes it up and puts
more to it, so you wouldn’t know but what
he writ it his self. Miss Gooden’s baby’s
ntmed fur that poet Her little Sammy
goes to school to Malindy Forman, and she
seed the name in his reader, and liked it; be-
kays it was no common one. She never
liked the name of Sammy but hit was Good
en's pap’s name and as long as he was dead,
she never fetched in no complaint agin it.
Ole Miss Green told me that day she was
here that George Washington Higgins had
sold a piece er land to some furriners that
was lookin’ fur gold, and had done left the
country. He haint got back from Sincler.
None of ’em haint got back. Caladony writ
to me from Ashville. Sue lowed Dave Bil-
linghamwasa fly in’ around Milly Acker,
and from all she could gether they’d marry,
she ’lowed they had b?en sweethearts a long
time. Hit was news to me fur I thought she
loved George Washington Higgins, and hits
my opinion yet that she’d ruther have him.
Caladony tcid me last year, “tater diggin’
time,’’That bekaze I loved George, I thought
ever’ body else loved him; but I think so
Hfc-Sh-a Ca’-.dCEy ( <.-on ! - git md at-aotbin-
she says. Sam Dave Tnompson’s been a
coming to see me consant sense I got home.
I don’t like him a bit, becaze he tries to put
me agin George. That’s one thing makes me
like Iky Roberson; he don’t run nobody
down to try to put his self up
Please find out all vou ken about Dave
Billingham and Milly Acker—whether they
are gwine to marry or no. George Wash
ington Higgins is over thar summer; if you
bear about him gwine to move off drap me a
few lines and tell me.
I hain’t got much use fur this settlement.
Pap says hits the wuss set, in ten mile squar
about here, this side er torment. He come
home tight t'other night, but be was mad-
der’n he was drunk. He had hearn of a
string Ole Arminty Pendergrass had said
about me and my beaux.
He ’lowd: “Well, Bets honey, don’t be pes
tered; if you wasn’t wortn noticin’ they
wouldn’t say nothin’ about you. Hits a set
that wants George Washington Higgins to
marry some er ther gals that’s a doin’ the
most of it. Miss Green and Miss Freshours
keeps it up; hits like fire: Oie Arminty
strikes the match; Miss Green she flings on a
piece er light’ood; then Miss Freshours never
would be outdone by none of ’em, so she piles
on a stick er oakwood to keep the fire up;
Miss Gooden is the best er the three: she puts
in a word and hits as good as a bucket er wa
ter flung on the file to put it out. I ’low to
gin her baby, ‘Honey-mouse,’ or whatever
you call it, a coat fur the part she tuck in it.
But I tell yon, Bets, honey, if they don’t keep
thar mouths off’u you, I’U put the fire out if
1 have to stomp it out, and that quick—”
“Well," says I, “pap, the best thing we ken
do is to move out’n this settlement and go to
whar folks is got more work than talkin' to
do.” And Saleny he’s in the notion strong
er movin’ summers.
I wisht sometimes I never had seed George,
but I—well, I won’t write it now. No more
at the present.
From your beloved cousin,
Betsy Hamilton.
The Rage lor Beauty.
A correspondent writing from London says
that, talking of beauty, among fashions of
the moment none strikes one more than the
use extracted from it both by the possessors
of this article and those who borrow it; and
it would be well to instruct our girls at home
more fully and from their earliest infancy
about the immense resources that they hold
it m their power to develop by this ' aluable
stock in social trade, so that they may early
become adepts in the great art of bartering
ing it successfully. It may be stated with
out qualification that at the present day
beauty is all powerful; and beauty pure and
simple; beauty without fortune (if adroitly
utilized); beauty without talent (other than
the commercial-social talents); beauty, must
we say it, without character. It is all one.
Ic is named in every invitation. “My dear,”
I heard old Mrs. Landy say to elderly Mrs.
Bond, “Pm so sorry you were not able to
dine with me! I had such a perfect dinner
party: if you had only known. Just think!
a poet, an actor, a journalist, a printer, a
wit and a beauty. Yes, and a new beauty.
I’ll tell you how I found her. She really be
longs at present to Lady Morfy and myself;
but of course, now we have started her, all
-he other people will snap her up. Well, we
were sitting together at Mrs. Houndsley’s the
other day, chinking it rather dull, when sud
denly the most perfect apparition you ever
beheld stood before us. An old-muster dress,
an immense pattern, a large hat rim encir
cling a face, inside some dark red hair, and
tlie face a perfect one. Yes! Well, you
know it turned out she wasn’t bom in the
purple; her husband is just a clerk in Bur
ley’s bank. Bat we both insisted on being
introduced to her: for you see, my dear,
there’s no doubt about it, she is a ready
made beauty. So the end of it was that La
dy Morfy and I said to each other, ‘Now, it
w on’t do for us to have made her acquaint
ance and then do nothing but give her tue
cold shoulder afterward. We’ll br.ng her
oa. You invite her Tuesday and 1*11 invite
her Thursday, and then she3 started.'”
"What luck!” sighed the elderly Mr-. Bond.
Wasn’t it, rcy dear? No kind of trouble,
you see, about the dinner party. It went of
itself.”
JULIET'S TOMB.
Don’t ever visit Verona, dear reader,
without reveling in the sight of the places
which Shakspeare has renderd immortal.
“The Two Gentlemen from Verona” hailed
from here, and here the war of the Capu-
lets and Montagues raged, and here Romeo
made fervent lova to Juliet, which she ap
parently reciprocated. In the via Capella an
iron hat suspended above a gateway was
pointed out to me as indicating the former
residence of the Capuletta, Juliet’s parents;
and I bad already read in my guide-book
that “in a side sveet of the via Cappnocini is
situated the suppressed Franciscan monas
tery” where the dear old girl was buried.
Everybody knows that Shakspeare’s tragic
romance is founded on events which actually
occurred at Verona, and that his Escrias,
Prince of Verona, was Bartollommeo Sea la,
who died in 1303.
So we went last Wednesday, the whole of
Cook’s vacation party, to see|Juliet’s tomb,
reverently shown to strangers. It is a ro
mantic idea. I wouldn’t have it missed for
anything.
We had a local guide who spoke pure
Veronese, and at a given signal he started ns
off. Up the street we went; up another
stieet, then down a street about a mile, when
we turned into a gate by a button-ball tree.
We were in what had apparently once been
a garden. Indeed, there were even now
pumpkins and weeds growing in it, and a
row of evergreen box struggled for life, and
a broken-down grape arbor overshadowed
the fence. We- struggled along, climbed over
a pile of boards, broke down some spider
webs that crossed the path, descended some
steps, came to a heap of manure and went
around it, passed the back door of a cocoon
hatchery, which smelt like Constantinople,
and then the guide came back and calmly
remarked that we were on the wrong road
We went back a few rods, turned into a lit
tle dirtier path, entered at a broken gate,
and were led to a spot under a barn where
stood “the tomb of Juliet.”
It was of red Verona marble, about six
feet long, three feet high and three feet wide,
and was hollowed out from above like a
large basin. Through either end and both
sides, at the bottom, were orifices about two
inches in diameter. U pon the sides and ends
of the red trough were piled thousands of
visiting cards— some fresh and white, some
brown with age.
“Zees,” said the guide, “ess ze tomba of
Senorita Gui'ietta. Zees holess,” he contin
ued, poking his cane into the orifices in the
side already referred to, “ess where Guilietta
she stick her arms out.”
“Say,” said Ihe man from Little Rock,
“where is she now! where’s her bones? What
have they done with ’em?”
“Ze bones he lie in ze groun under be-
neathy,” saTfl the guide in a muffled voice,full
of sorrow, as* he rapped gently on the ground,
“or mebby z-i Montagues take her bone away
-ha!”
“What ma ie them make her tomb look ex
actly like a bath-tulj?” asked a lady from
West Virginia, in a pathetic manner.
“Ze bas-tub?” said the guide gloomily.
“Why, yes!” exclaimed three or four of
the party, “exactly like one—don’t you see—
just deep euough—just long enough—holes
ror water to run out—bet ’twas a bath-tub.”
“Was Juliet a hard-shell Baptist?’ struck
in the tall lady from Charlestown, New
Hampshire.
“Ah, madam?’’ sighed the guide, his voice
full of tears; “I cannot deceive-a you! Zis
tomb-a was never ze bas-tub, but it may be
ze grand fountain where ze Rome emperor
water ze horse.”
“Watering trough, by thunder!” said the
gentleman from Hartford.
“Z ?y have no ozzer tomb-a for poor Guili
etta,” said the guide; “so zay use him.”
“Why don’t they stick it up on end and
sculp au epitaph on to it?” asked the gentle
man from Philadelphia.
The guide did not reply,but turned towards
the stable door to hide his emotion.
“So these are the very same walls that
Romeo,NfBia5® scale to bring taffy to his
summer girl/* continued the Philadelpfiiah,
turning and viewing the tall, noble, white
washed walls outside.
Then we reverently laid twelve more cards
on the tub of Juliet—one of them from
Poughkeepsie telling where the best brass
nails could be had, and turned away, con
vinced that Juliet’s casket was apparently
empty. The young man from Pittsburg got
a last look at the sarcophagus, and with a
bustling and enterprising air, inquired of th
bereaved guide when J uliet died, and what
she died of; the rest of us ran the gauntlet of
spiders and caterpillars in getting back to the
street. In one of the rows between tomato
vines the young lady from Wisconsin found
a patched, mouldy and much-decayed brogan
wbich we unanimously voted to have been
one of Romeo’s shoes, dropped in some of his
nocturnal visits.
Seriously, one or the other of the lovers,or
both, may probably enough have been in
this very garden once, but it is certain that
that bath-tub has held neither since their
death. The pretence is a desecration of Juli
et’s memory. She is entitled to a good, reas
onable gravestone, and if nothing else can be
done, the bath-tub ought at least to be turned
over, so as to present a momentary illusion
for. the imagination to rest on.—Andrews'
Queen.
Bints fi»r Mothers.
When your daughter performs a task in an
ill-fashioned manner, always say, “There!
1 might as well have done it myself in the
first place,” and then take the work out of
her hand and do it yourself. This will en
courage the girl not to try to do the thing
next time she is set about it.
Never permit your son to have any amuse
ment at home. This will induce him to seek
it in places where you will not be annoyed
by his noise.
There is no place like home. Impress this
truth upon your children by making home
as disagreeable and unlike any other place as
Never neglect the lock on the pantry.
Some boys have probably turned out first-
class house-breakers all on account of this ju
dicious treatment in early childhood.
Never permit your children to contradict.
Let them know that that is your peculiar
prerogative.
In chiding your children’s faults, never for
get to mention how mnch better the Jones
children behave. This will cause your little
ones everlastingly to love the Jones chil
dren.
Take frequent occasion to tell your chil
dren how much more favored their lot is than
when you were a girl, it is always pleasant
to children to be constantly reminded of their
obligations.
Don't let your son indulge in any kind of
outdoor games. Keep him to his books. It
will make a great man of him some day, if
he should happen to live.
Your girls should never be permitted to
romp. Let them grow into interesting inva
lids, by all means.
B-gentle and courteous before company;
but if you have a temper, let your children
have a taste of it as often as convenient. A
mother should never practice deception upon
her brood.
Talk slightly over your husband to your
boys and girls. This will make them respect
their father.
Tell your child he shall not do a thing, and
then let him tease you into giving your con
sent. This will teach him what to do on sub
sequent occasions.
Make promises to your children, and then
neglect to keep them. This will lead your
children not U- place much reliance upon your
word, and shield them from many disappoint
ments.
When your boy gets comfortably seated in
the easy chair, take it from him. Tnis will
induce him to appreciate a good thing when
he grows older, and stick to it—a seat in a
crowded horse car, for example.
Tell your children they are the worst you
ever saw, and they will no doubt endeavor
to merit your appreciation.
Lora BeaconsfWd sai l there were many
people who wou'd res Ive to lead virtuous
lives on the principle that "Virtue is its own
reward,” if they could only get the reward
in advance.
MUSICAL NOTES,
Wilhemj is delighting the Australians with
the fiddle and the bow.
Nilson has a great hankering for Paris.
Her husband is a Frenchman.
A woman pianist who plays with only one
hand is just now the talk of Paris.
Dr. Murch and his wife, better known as
Carlotta Patti, have been giving concerts in
Palermo.
J ohann Strauss is at work on the score of a
new operetta called Der Lustiges Krieg—
“The Merry War.”
Col. Mapleson is making a determined ef
fort to secure Pauline Lucca for the operatic
season in America.
The pretty Mme.* Marie Rozer will remain
in England next winter, and will sing in ora
torios and concerts only.
Clara Louis Kellogg will receive $2,000 a
week during the coming season. Adelina
Patti wants $2,000 a night.
Annie Louise Cary has telegraphed, to Ma
pleson, in London, her irrevocable intention
of retiring from the stage.
It is stated that the friends and admirers
of Baron Orczy, paid Mr. Mapleson $60,000
for producing “II Rinnegato.”
Mr- Stanley, the baritone, has been in fail
ing health for some time past, and has gone
to Italy for a few months.
Miss Louise D. Reynolds, soprano of Nor
wich, Conn., lately returned from Europe,
now claims attention as a singer.
Miss Clara Louise Kellogg will sing in
public for the first time since her return at
the Worcester (Masa) Festival, September
29.
“L'Africaine” is announced as one of the
novelties of the coming Mapleson Opera sea
son in this country, with Miss Minnie Hauck
as Selika.
Sixty brass bnnds are to hold' a tourna
ment at Hartford. (As it is five weeks off,
there is a pretty fair show for the populace
to escape.)
Miss Louise Engel, of St. Lonis, after a
sojourn of over five years in Europe at the
Conservatories of Music, has just returned
to her home.
Col. Mapleson and Signor Arditti, with a
portion of Her Majesty’s Opera Company,
will sail for New York on the 29th of the
present month.
“I’m saddest when I sing,” said an evening
warbler on McCulloch street last night. “Yes,
and so’s the whole neighborhood!” roared an
unmusical voice in the street.
Miss Kate Jordan, a young lady well-known
in the social and musical circles of Peoria,
Illinois, is now at her home in Morris, in that
State. Her vocalism is referred to as of the
highest order of merit.
Miss Emma Thursby has recently had a
signal triumph in Belgen, Norway, where she
sang at a concert in aid of the Ole Bull Me
morial fund. Miss T. was the star of the oc
casion, and after the concert she was compli
mented with a serenade.
Eugene Thayer, who ranks as the most
celebrated organist in the United States, has
left Boston. He accepts the position of or
ganist with the well known Presbyterian
Church in New York, of which Dr. Hall is
pastor, at an enormous salary.
A band tournament will be held in Findlay,
Ohio, September 21st, to compete for the fol
lowing prizes; First for the best band, $300;
second best band, $150; third, for third best
band, $75; special, for she best cornet player,
$100.
Signor Tagllapietra appeared at the high
land House, Cincinnati, a few nights since,
in conjunction with Max Maretzek. Annie
T Berger returns to the Highlands on the
12th of September; at the conclusioq of the
season of orchestral conoerts at that resort,
Maretzek will go East on a short vacation
Theodore Thomas and his orchestra will com
mence a series of concerts at the Highlands
on the 5th.
A French scientist has made the startling
discovery that light can be produced from
sound. How nice! Think of having the
streets lit np with music from the bands,
light music with occasional flashes from the
bass drum, and parlors illuminated merely
by thumping the piano, while bed-room
lights can be maintained by being inattentive
to the baby. The cats will keep the back
yards as bright as day by attaching the
scientific appliances to the fences, and living
next door to a boiler shop will be a coveted
position if means can be found for storing np
the light created in the day for use at night.
Matrimony and Rastie Sim
plicity.
“One day,” remarked Mr. Wilson, of the
Girard Hotel, Philadelphia, “a fellow came
into the hotel and said: ‘I want a room.’
He was in a great hurry, and I thought
something was the matter. He wrote his
name in the register and said he wanted to
go right away. I called a bell boy, but, in
stead of going up the front stairs, he slipped
around back, met a lady and took her her up
with him. Soon the boy returned and told
me the man had a woman in his room. I sent
for him quickly.
“ ‘What are you doing with a woman in
your room?’ I asked.
“ ‘Nothing; I only took her up there to
wait,’ the fellow replied, trembling all the
time like a crimnal.
“ ‘Is she your sister?’
“ No.’
“ ‘Mother?’
“ ‘No.’
“ ‘Daughter?’
“ ‘No.’
“ ‘It is against the rules of this house, sir,
to permit such conduct, and unless the
lady is your wife she cannot stay in the room
with you,’ I said sharply.
“ ‘But—but—’ was all the fellow could say,
and he caught nervously at the desk in his
fright.
“In an instant it dawned on me what was
the matter,” said Mr. Wilson, “and I called
the fellow to one side and whispered in his
ear: ‘You came to town to get married,
didn’t you?’
“ ‘Yes—yes,’ he replied eagerly.
“ ‘Well, now, you can confide in me and
I'll help you,’ I replied.
“ ‘You see I never was married before,
I don’t know nothing about it,’ the fellow
said; ‘and I do wish you’d get somebody to
tie the knot. That’s my gal upstairs, and
she’s a-waitiu’ for me.’
“ ‘All right,’ I replied; ‘I’ll fix yon.’
“Magistrate List was sent for, and he put
them through in double-quick time. They
paid for the room and then went off up
Chestnut street to bunt a confectionary
store.”
It is proposed in Iowa to present a testi
monial to Kate Shelley, the brave Irish girl
who saved a passenger train from going
through a broken bridge in a storm. One
enthusiastic man advises that the commer
cial travelers of the country take it into their
own hands and each contribute $1 to the
fund. Kate’s father, it is related, lost his life
in the service of the Northwestern Railway
Company, some years ago; her brother was
Irowned two seaons since, and the family
now consists of Kate, who is 15 or 16 j'ears of
age, her mother, a woman in poor health,
and two younger children of 6 and 9 years
respectively.
A lady at Burlington after retiring and
about 2 o’clock in the morning felt some
strange sensation about her feet and ankles,
i ke something cold was twisted around
them. She told the inmates of the house
that she was sure there was a snake in the
room. Careful searco confirmed her state
ment, for under the bed back against the
-all, coiled up lay a genuine rattlesnake.
The snake was immediately killed, its head-
-ss body measuring three feet and two
inches in length.
RANDOM NOTES
Oi* a Personal, Social and Gos
sipy Character.
George W. Riggs, the Washington banker,
is dead.
Jay Gould controlls 7,000 miles of railroad,
valued at $i4o,ooo,ooo.
Governor St. John, of Kansas, is making
temperance speeches in Indiana.
Senator Thurman abstains from public
speaking on account of ill health.
Dan Rice, the circus man, commenced his
career as a jockey for Henry Clay.
King Kalakaua is to visit this country. H«
will sail for New York September 13.
Archbishop Purcell has become so weak
that he has to be fed by an attendent
Garibaldi intends to visit the Milan Expo
sition next month. He is in good health at
present.
The health of Governor Wiltz, of Louisiana,
has slightly improved. He is a victim of
consumption.
M. de Lafavette, of France, on account of
his health, will not attend the ceremonies at
Yorktown in October.
The Baroness Burdett-Coutts, with her
husband, is about to visit this country to re
main until next March.
Stokes who killed Jim Fisk, is in the oil
business and is very wealthy. He has sober
ed down and is an exemplary citizen.
Mr. Stephens’s new book is to be a political
history of the United States. It was under
taken at the solicitation of the Appletons.
Byron's grave at Hucknall is still an object
of interest to visitors, especially Americans.
A new slab has lately been placed over it.
Kate Shelley, the railroad heroine of Boone,
la., is dangerously ill from exposure the
night she saved a passenger train from des
truction.
General Swain has lost twenty-six pounds
of flesh, and his hair has grown several
shades grayer during his attendance upon the
President, with whom he spends folly half
his time.
Abraham Flavell, a Newark Adventist
and Millerite, who dressed himself for
“Judgment dav” in 1845 and in 1853, ready
to ascend to Heaven, died recently in his
eightieth year.
General Eugene A. Carr, who is reported
killed with his whole command by the White
Mountain Apaches, was born in New York.
He entered the array from the military acad
emy on September x, 1846.
Mr. Rudolph, brother of Mrs. Garfield,
says that his sister’s faith has always been
strong regarding the President’s recovery,
and she expresses implicit confidence in Dr.
Bliss and his treatment of the case.
Senator Lamar, of Mississippi, is still suf
fering from illness, and has been forbidden by
bis doctors from taking any part in the ap
proaching canvass in that State. He will be
a candidate for re-election to the U. S. Sen
ate, by the Legislature to be chosen in No
vember.
The mother of Oscar Wilde, the new En-
lish poetaster, about whom there is so much
talk, was a distinguished beauty in her day.
Her maiden name was Jane Francesca El gee,
daughter of an American clergyman of Dub
lin. Judge J. K Elgee, of Alexandria, La.,
was her brother.
Lotta Crabtree is spending the summer on
the border of lake George. Sue lives in a
pretty cottage built by Robert Dale Owen on
the side of a hill that slopes to the water’s
edge, where a quaint little pier affords a land
ing place for her miniature boat, in which
the actress rows herself.
Rossi is 52 years old. He is tall, well made,
broad shouldered, and with a fair complex
ion. In his movements he is graceful, and
bis carriage is that of a courtier. He lacks
the grace and majestic presence of Salvini,
but is more refined and invests his imperson
ations with a rare grace.
Prof. I. F. Cox, of the Southern Female
College at LaGrange, has secured the ser
vices of M’lle A. J. Merrier, the New Or
leans prima donna singer, and who was edu
cated at the conservatory of Paris, in the
music department of that famous institution
of learning. She will assist the Misses Cox.
Mr. Burne Jones was made a D. C. L, of
Oxford the other day, being greeted by the
undergraduates with an uproarious chorus
of;
“A most intense young man,
A soulful-eyed young man.
An ultra-poetical, super-esthetical
Out of the way young man.”
The brother-in-law of the ex Empress Eu
genie was a famous gambler. At one night’s
play he lost five million francs and finally
gambled away an immense fortune. He re
covered sufficient, however, to purchase a
splendid palace, to keep a hundred horses
and entertain fifty guests at dinner every
evening.
General Preston, who was formerly United
States Minister to Madrid, is such a great
talker that he never stops to listen to any one
else. He always branches into an oration,
and is considered by his friends as an au
thority upon every subject and he lays down
the law on all topics. He is a great linguist,
talking Latin, Greek, French or Spanish.
Cross-eyed Glrli.
“You don’t want to never tamper with a
cross-eyed girl,” said Mr. Trillpipe, “and I
will tell you why: They’ve naturally got a
better focus on things than man mould ever
guess—studyin’ their eyer, you understand.
A man may think he’s a foolin’ a cross-eyed
girl simply because she’s apparently got her
eyes tangled on other topics as he’s talkin’ to
her, but at the same time that girl may be
a lookin’ down the windin’ staircase of the
cellar of his soul with one eye, and a winkin’
in a whisper to her own soul with the other,
and her unconscious victim just a takin’ it
tor granted that nothin’ is the matter with
the girl, only just cross-eyed! Yen see I’ve
studied them,” continued Trillpipe, “and I
am on to one fact dead sure—and that is,
their nature is as deceivin’ as their eyes is.
Knowed one onc’t that had her eyes mixed
up thata way, sensitive little thing she was,
and always referrin’ te her ‘misfortune,’ as
she called it, and eternally threatenin’ to
have some surgeon straighten ’em out like
other folks’—and, sir, that girl so worked on
my feelin’s, and took such underholts on my
sympathies, that, blame me, before I knowed
it I codfessed to her that if it hadn't been
for her defective eyes (I made it defr ctive]
1 never would have thought of lovin’ her,
and furthermore, if she ever did have ’em
changed back normal, don’t yon understand,
she might consider our engagement at an
end—1 did, honest—and the girl was so abso
lute cross-eyed it warped her ears, and she
used to amuse herself by watchin’ ’em curl
up as I’d be a talkin’ to her, and that mad
dened me, ’cause I’m naturally of a jealous
disposition, and so at last 1 just causally
hinted that if she was really a goin’ to get
those ears oardentered up, why she'd bhtter
get at it, and thai ended it. And then the
blame girl turned right around and married
a fellow that had a better pair of eyes than
mine this minute! Tben 1 struck another
erots-eyed girL Hei eyes was bad! I never
did get the hang of tnem eyes of hern. She
had purtv hair and complexion, I used to
tell her." which outrivaled the rose. But
tnem eyes, you know! I didn’t really ap
preciate how bad they was crossed at ffrst.
You see ic took tioie. G >t her to give me
her pioture, and I used to cipher on that, but
finally worked her off on a young friend of
mine who wanted to marry intellect—give
her a good send-off to him—and she was
smart—only them eyes, you know! Why,
that girl could read a postal card, both sides
at once, and smile at a personal friend
through the office window at the same
time.”