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W. F. SMITH, Publisher,
VOLUME IX.
MARJORIE OR AT.
BX ADA X. B. KIOHOLS.
Blythe In the eon of a lummer’i day
Tripped little old-ftaliioned Marjorie Gray,
Malden quaint of a long paat day—
Marjorie Gray!
Loud Bang the robins on branch and epray.
Madly and gladly and long Bang they,
Carolled to Marjorie on her way—
Loud sang they 1
Sweet waa the roses’ breath in the air,
Clear flowed the brook through the gardens fair,
White lay the road in the sun’s bright glare—
Warm the glare!
But maid Marjorie, waiting there,
Had not for heat nor dust a care,
Knew not that she and the roses rare
Were so fair;
Saw not the lithe and graoeful honnd
Running to meet her with graceful bound,
Leeping and springing oxer the ground—
Friendly hound!
Farther away, with gaze profound,
And girlish forehead slightly frowned,
llcr eager eyes their object found—
Gladly found I
She was a little belle from the town,
Dainty in manner and face and gown ;
He was a poet of no renown,
Far from town;
Tet the haughty eyes so brown,
Under the poet’s smile or frown,
Gleamed with joy, or, shy, looked down,
Soft and brown.
Bad that one could not leave thorn so.
Maiden and poet of long ago,
Meeting with Joy by the old hedge-row—
Long ago.
But time’a departure, steady and slow,
With years of roses and years of snow,
Has wrapped the park in oliill and glow—
Roses and snow.
Marjorie married the son of a peer;
Marjorie’s life was short and drear;
Forgotten she, for many a year,
In church-yard drear;
While to the poet’s record dear
Came sweet fame and a long oareer,
fortune, and love, and all things doar—<
Blessed career!
Blithe was that summer passed away;
* Happy the little maid, they say;
Tender the poet that sunny day—
Passed away.
Flown are the birds from tree and spray;
Dust is sweet little Marjorie Gray;
Deathless the honored poet’s lay—
Welladay l
—Harper’s Magazine.
LOVE’S STRATAGEM .
It was a little village called Blunder
—not in Fairy-land but in Maine land—
jnst out of the shadow of the solemn for
ests, and where it could see and flash
back the smile of the restless, dancing,
moaning sea; and perhaps that
was the reason that it was such
busy little village, for, although it
bad only one street and a church and a
•choolhouse (oh ! and a blacksmith
hop), it was the most uneasy little place
Imaginable—and so conceited.
Iu the middle house of the right-hand
row lived the musician of the place—a
little wriukled old man, with a wooden
l p £, ratty hair and a hooked nose, and a
fai'o that was always wrinkling up, as if
H were making a net to catch ideas.
*hoy called him “ the professor,” and
tho squire s daughter and the doctor’s
daughter and the lawyer’s wife, and the
two rich old maids that are to be found
in every village, and six of the minister’s
olive branches,” took lessons of him.
And on summer evenings, when he
*ed to sit playing Herr Worstanadrnm’s
*bigio movement, in G double-sharp
miny ‘s all the villago used to gather
his house, and say, softly, one to
■not her:
“ " hat a groat man is the professor,
*ud what a wise and enlightened and
■ohle and art-loving people are we Blun
dernarians I”
He was a very absent man this pro
kfcsor; for his brain was so full of
crotchets and quavers that lie couldn’t
tell a cup of coffee from a sheet’of mu
ttc% aQ d wore his wooden leg upside
down half the time; and whenever his
daughter Martha (who was a sort of
?one fairy, and kept his house in order,
■nd lug queer old ideas straightened out)
would say, “ Father, the squire’s daugh
ter, or the doctor’s daughter, is waiting
l° r you,” off went the professor like a
•hot—his faded dressing-gown stream
in the wind, his ratty locks uncov
and his sound foot, without slice
°r stocking, hopping through the streets
like mad: and then all the Blunder
t4nans would raise their hands and say
°&ce more, one to another:
‘ Oh, what a great man is the pro
cessor r
after a while, there found his
to the village a young man, with
d*rk, thoughtful eyes, and long, curling
P a nuge sign, announcing that he was
* professor also. And all the neighbors,
** they went by, used to sniff at it and
I guess he can’t play Herr Worst
> Pieces !” And there was a
a ter crowd round the old professor’s
bouse than ever.
The young man, however, didn’t seem
it much to heart; but one even
Dfuitu! to Industrial Intest, the Diffusion of Truth, the Establishment of Justice, and the Preservation of a Peoples Government.
iDg, when his neighbor had finished the
adagio movement in G double-sharp
minor, ho sat down to his piano; and
all the Blundernarians laughed—for the
first few notes were not a bit like Herr
Worstanadrum’s.
Ho heard the laugh, but he played
on; and, presently, there came through
the window sounds like the rustling of
pines and the murmur of water, and the
songs of birds, and shouts of children,
and tinkling of bells; and all the Blun
dernarians who didn’t carry handker
chiefs fell to wiping their eyes on their
aprons and jacket-sleeves; and bang 1
went the window of the professor, who
bad been listening. And all that night
he sulked in his easy-chair, and
wouldn’t speak a word to his daughter
Martha when she urged him to go to
bed.
After that, the squire’s daughter
found out what handsome eyes the
young professor had, and told the doc
tor’s daughter; and then all the Blun
dernarians discovered that the old pro
fessor was out of date, and shabby, and
crusty, and queer, and a goose instead
of a swan ; and in a little while his pu
pils had all dropped off. And the crowd
was around the young man’s window,
who had always something now to play;
and the old man sat scowling in his
easy-chair, or played Herr Worstana
drum with the loud pedal, and half suf
focated Martha and himself, because he
wouldn’t have the windows opened.
Poor little Martha went around with
her blue eyes swimming in tears, and
her rosy lips quivering all the time; and
whenever she passed the young man’s
window she used to dart such savage
glances at it as, if they had been pistol
balls, would certainly have made an end
of him—as he always happened to be
there when she went by.
530 matters went on, till one evening,
when Martha was almost as sulky as her
father—because that day she had lost
one of her two handkerchiefs—in her
indignation at the professor’s presuming
to bow to her, the door opened, and the
dark-eyed stranger came quietly in, hold
ing her handkerchiefs as a flag of truce.
Martha reddened, and her father was
so tart and crust* that she was fright
ened ; but the young man would not go
till he had heard Her YVorstanadrurn's
adagio—whereupon the oid professor,
who was flushed and angry, played it
terribly out of time, un ie false notes,
and at last got his poor old hands so en
tangled that he gave a terrible bang and
came away, vowing that the piano was
ontirely out of tune.
There was quite a silence, and then
the straugcr rose to go ; but the surly
old man fancied that he w r as frightened
at Herr Worstanadrum. and would not
hear of his stirring till he played like
wise.
With a deep sigh, the young man
seated himself at the instrument. The
professor wrinkled his face, took
off his spectacles and oocked his
dar critically, while Martha turned
her back to kido her tears—till, hearing
a great sniff .behind hor, she saw that
her father was weeping, and making the
most-terrible grimaces to hide it.
When he had finished, the old pro
fessor got up, and shut the piano with
out a word ; and Martha, flushed and
trembling, went with the stranger to
the door—for she knew from her father’s
look that he was saying to himself that
he would never play again.
On the door-step she thought to look
at the handkerchief; but it was finer
than any she had ever owned, and beau
tifully embroidered.
“Take it,” she said, handing it back.
“ This is not mine.”
“I know it,” answered the young
man; “but I kept yours purposely.
Gold would not buy it of me.” And,
with a grave bow, he went away.
“ What was that young jackanapes say
ing to you?” asked her father, when she
came back. _____
Martha, who did not know how to de
ceive, told him every word.
“ Oh, ho 1” growled the old man, “ Fll
have him there. If he has stolen away
my pupils, he shan’t have my daughter.
The next time he comes, you’re not to
let him in—do you hear, Martha?”
“Yes, sir,” answered Martha. And,
letting fall a pile of plates, broke half of
them, tore her only gown in trying to
save them, burned her fingers when she
lighted her father’s pipe, got well
scolded and went crying to bed.
After that, every morning was laid on
the door-steps a brace of birds, a basket
of fruit, or some fine fish, always for the
professor, who began to fancy that some
of his old friends had at last remem
bered him, and chuckled mightily over
them to Martha, who blushed red as a
rose, but never said a word.
One morning, however, the old man—
INDIAN SPRINGS, GEORGIA.
who was as curious as a woman—took it
in his head to find out whether it rained
fish, birds and fruit, or whether he had
still a friend in Blunder; and, posting
himself behind the curtains, watched
the door-steps as a eat would a mouse,
till, to his horror, he descried the dark
eyed young professor in the very act of
depositing a superb haunch of venison.
“You scoundrel! you villain! you
coward I” shrieked the old man in a
fury, throwing open the window; “you
wretch ! you poisoner ! you pettifogger 1
you huckster ! you mummy ! you ’
Here, as he could think of nothing
else, he threw his wooden leg at him.
The young man picked it up, and po
litely handed it to Martha, who came
running to the window, as by this time
did also half of the Blundernarians—
who, being only half awake, and hardly
dressed at all, decided that the young
professor had been trying to poison the
old ono; that he was discovered in the
act of trying to elope with Martha; that
the house was on fire ; that the old pro
fessor was crazy; that he was drunk, and
a variety of equally consistent and sensi
ble opinions. But the truth of the mat’
ter leaking out (as it always will, little
ones, no matter how deep they bury it),
the Blundernarians exclaimed, with one
voice, that the old professor was an idiot
and an ass, and, as idiots and asses have
no right to live, unanimously resolved
to starve him out, by depriving Martha
of the little work by whicn she had been
able to support her father and herself.
Only the minister’s wife couldn’t be
made to see that she ought to starve a
fellow creature because he was poor and
cross, and between her and the dark
eyed stranger, who used to smuggle his
contributions now into the kitchen, they
managed to struggle on for a few months
longer.
At last, one day, Martha found the
dark-eyed stranger himself in the kit
chen, and was going to blush and
scream, but concluded to cry, when he
told her that he wa3 going aw r ay.
“I have ruined your father,” lie said,
sorrowfully, ‘ * and lie won’t let me repay
him ; so you see I must go.”
“It will do no good,” answered Mar
tha. “Someone else will come. You
have taught other people too much.
They will never come back to Kerr
Worstanadrum. ”
“But there is another reason,” he
said. “ I am very unhappy. I love a
little blue-eyed girl, who is my next-door
neighbor, but her fatlier hates me, and
I don’t think she would marry mo with
out his consent—do you ?” And he
looked straight into Martha’s eyes, as
if she knew anything about it.
“I don’t think she would,” answered
Martha, “if she is a good girl.”
“She is very good,” he said, positively;
“so you see there is no hope for me f
and I must go.”
On which Martha whispered some
thing in his ear—to which he said:
“Do you think so?”—to which she an
swered : “I know so 1”—on which he
said : “ I’ll try ” —and went away.
That evening the professor was quite
alone, and the door was open. He was
wondering what kept Martha so long,
and grumbling terribly as he smoked
liis pipe, when in came the dark-eyed
stranger.
“ I came to make my peace with you,’*
he said, mournfully. “I am going
away.” ,
“Take a seat, sir,” said the professor,
growing civil at once.
“I am going.” lie repeated, seating
himself close to the old man, “ for tw r o
reasons. The first is, that I love your
daughter Martha, and am sure you
won’t let me have her; but the principal
one is—Herr Worstanadrum.”
“Herr Worstanadrum !” repeated the
old man, opening his eyes very wide.
“ Yes, I am tormented by the recol
lection of your superior excellence. My
style of playing pleases; it is popular.
Why ? Because the vulgar can under
stand and appreciate it—just like the
children like the primer better than
Cicero’s orations. Yours is the true
school—the only fountain of excellence.
But it is only great minds like yours
that can comprehend the meaning of
such wondrous melodies like those of
Herr Worstanadrum; but to play them
—ah ! that is reserved for you. I liavft
tried, and failed—”
“ Really 1” interrupted the old man,
hugely delighted.
xes, really. I am continually try
ing to recall it, buf in vain. It haunts
me; it crazes me; and since I cannot
bear the torture, I fly—”
But the professor was already at the
long-closed piano.
“You shall not go away, my poor
boy. I will play it for you every day,
and perhaps you might learn it by de
grees. It is not your fault, you know,
if you did fail.”
“ Impossible,” returned the. young
man, sadly. “ Vou are only too good;
but I cannot stay—”
“Not if I will give you Martha?”
urged the old man—as eager to keep
him as he had ever been to drive him
away.
“ That might alter the case,” he said,
hesitatingly. “ But would you play the
adagio every day ? ”
“ I will 1! you like.” And he did.
And the young £-roi\_ooo, liio arm
around the waist of his blue-eyed wife,
smiles as the old man crashes away at
“Herr Worstanadrum,” saying pityingly:
‘ ‘ Poor fellow ! he can never play it. ”
Header, it is not probable that there
are any such cross-grained, quaint, crot
chical, fog-lrained old
nowadays; but if ever you should chance
to stumble on any, find out their partic
ular “ Herr Worstanadrum,” and go and
do likewise.
FUN AHEAD.
An Improved Congressional Record.
H Congress resolve to act upon the
suggestion made by Senator Miller that
the Congressional Record be issued as
a weekly and sent to every family in the
country, some modification ought to be
made of the contents of the Record.
The paper is much too heavy and dismal
in its present condition to be welcomed
in the ordinary American household.
Perhaps it might have a puzzle depart
ment, and if so one of the first puzzles
could take the shape of an inquiry how
it happens that so many Congressmen
get rich on $5,000 a year. The
department of Answers to Corres
pondents could be enriched with refer
ences to letters from ofiice-seekers, and
the department of Household Economy
could contain explanations of how the
members frank tlieir shirts home through
the postofiice so as to get them in the
family wash. As for the general contents,
describing the business proceedings of
the Senate and House, we recommend
that these should be put into the form
of verse. We should treat them, say,
something in thi- fashion :
Mr. Hill
Introduced a biU
To give John Smith a pension.
Mr. Bayard
Talked himself tired,
But said nothing worthy of mention.
This would be succinct, musical and
in a degreo impressive. The youngest
readers could grasp the meaning of it
and it could easily be committed to
memory. Or a scene in the j&Kspe
might be depicted in such irma scs
these:
Avery able speech wsf jkvJF b# Cox of Minnesota
Respecting the £ protecting the black
voter.
’Twas indignantly responded to by Smith of Ala
bama,
Whose abominable talk was silenced by the Speak
er’s hammer.
Then Atkinson of Kansas rose to make an explana
tion,
But was pulled down by a colleaguo in a state of in
dignation.
And Mr. Alexander, in a speech about insurance,
Taxed the patience of his hearers pretty nearly past
endurance.
After which Judge Whitaker denounced the recip
rocity
Treaty with Hawaii aa a scandalous monstrosity.
It would be advisable of course to vary
the meter as much as possible in order
to prevent the monotony which would
otherwise dull the interest of the reader.
After giving the proceedings in the
House as above, something of a more
spirited nature perhaps could be insert
ed into the Senate reports. Suppose,
for example, the pages devoted to the
Senate should lead off with something
of this kind:
Then up rose Smith, of Florida, the best ef the de
baters,
And spoke about his measure for protecting alligat
ors;
He showed how tourists shoot at them without re
gard for reason,
And asked to hare it made a crime .o kill them out
of season.
Then Brown he moved amendment by inserting a
brief clause
Compelling alligators net to operate their jaws;
But Smith he up and said of him who thought the
subject comical,
That Nature, when she gave him sense, had been too
economical.
And Brown, responding briefly, wished to say in this
connection
That Smith in guarding reptiles had an e\e xo self
protection.
Then Smith he flung a volume of the Message and
Reports,
And Brown was laid upon the floor a good deal out
of sorts.
Of course versification of the Congres
sional Record would require the services
of a poet laureate of rather unusual
powers. If Congress shall accept seri
ously the suggestions which we make
with an earnest desire to promote the
public interest, we shall venture to rec
ommend the selection of the Sweet
Singer of Michigan as the first occupant
of the laureate’s office.— -Our Continent.
SrstvE f° r the pro vids
Against the worst
THE BARBER.
Outline Sketch of a Professional Career.
The barber, children, is of an extinct
species. The hair-dresser and tonsorial
artist of the present day are supposed,
however, to be descendants of the bar
ber in direct line.
The barber is a treacherous creature.
He is never to be depended upon. He
has been known to cut his best friends.
Ho ia remarkably sharp in a business
transaction, and will shave you if you
give him a chance. In fact, shaving
may be said to be his business.
The barber is a strapping fellow, and
is ever ready to raise a row. I have fre
quently seen him take a man by the nose
without the least provocation.
He always w r ants his hone way, and is
always ready for a brush.
Helias his shortcom(b)ings, to be suro,
and is apt to stir up your dander ; but
he has a very smooth tongue, and knows
how to lay on the lather.
He is generally honest in iiis judg
ments, and sincere in pooh-poohing
shams and delusions; but at the same
time he is given to a great deal of sham
pooing.
I can’t say that he was ever charged
with murder, but thousands of people
dye in his shop yearly.
Formerly the barber was a surgeon
also, and used to be paid for bleeding
his customers. Nowadays he draws
blood without extra charge.
The barber sees a great many af
tav&ng scenes. There is a good deal
parting going on every day in his
shop.
The barber seldom uses nails when
shingling, tnough he may use them
When he comes to the scratch.
The barber is a very secretive follow.
You will find locks everywhere about his
place.
He has very little recreation. Curling
is his chief amusement.
He always stands well in his profes
sion. You will generally find him at the
head.
He never makes game of his work,
unless hair-dressing may be considered
a rare bit of pleasantry.
The barber has to stand a great deal
from his customers. He does not care,
however, how much cheek they display
in his establishment, and the more
chin they give him the better he likes it.
The barber’s wife goes shopping, just
like other women, though she ought to
be able to get hirsuit at her husband’s
establishment. She probably prefers to
whisker round elsewhere. .
Though the barber may have no chil
dren to receive his inheritance, there
are always many hairs apparent at his
shop.
The barber’s motto is: “ Soap on,
soap ever.”
There are many more things I might
toll you of the barber, but he is a great
conversationalist, and amply able to
speak for himself.— Boston Transcript.
XUE JJIFE-SATING SEE VICE.
In a speech in favor of Hie bill to pro- \
mote the efficiency of the Life-Saving
Service, Congressman S. S. Cox pre
sented the following interesting statis
tics of the service since its establishment
ten years ago:
Number of disasters reported, 1,347;
value of vessels endangered, $16,083,-
320 ; value of cargoes, $8,429,167 ; value
of property saved, $14,958,890; value of
property lost, $9,853,592; number of
jives imperiled, 12,259; number of lives
saved, 11,864; number of persons suc
cored, 2,610; number of days’ succor af
forded, 7,350.
Beside 11,864 lives saved from vessels
in distress, the lives of sixteen persons
were saved who were not on board ves
sels. Of 395 lives reported lost, 183
were on the Huron and Metropolis, the
loss of the former vessel happening
when stations were not open ; while in
the case of the latter the service was im
peded by distance from the scene of the
disaster.
It is only in the last five years that
the operations of the Life-Saving Serv
ice have embraced the sea and gulf and
part of the lake coasts of the United
States. In 1871-72 its operations were
confined to the coast of Long island and
New Jersey.
Mr. Cox said that before the estab
lishment of the Life-Saving Service the
loss of life on the coast of New Jersey
alone amounted to hundreds annually.
Since its establishment 315 disasters
have occurred, imperiling the lives of
2,754 persons, of whom 2,725 were
saved.
We have often seen a statue of Clay
made of bronze.
’Tis more blissful to forgive than to
deceive.
SUBSCRIPTION-$1.60.
NUMBER 47.
PLEASANTRIES.
The Cyclops were an industrious race.
They had a single eye to business.
When you wake up at night and hear
the baby crying, look out for danger,
for there’s a rock ahead.
‘ ‘ What is love ?” asks an exchange.
Love, my friend, is thinking that you
and the girl can be an eternal pionio to
each other. —Salem Sunbeam.
A lecturer is telling “ How We
Hear.” It is easily told. Somebody
tells a friend of ours and tells him not
to tell. That’s the way we hear.
Bats Wilde to Kate Field,
“ My legs are revealed.”
Says Kate Field to Wilde,
“ So child I”
A man never realizes, remarks a com
mercial traveler, how plentiful mustard
is and how scarce are bread and meat,
until he tackles a railway refreshment
room sandwich.
A — “ How do you like my bride ?Do
you approve of my choice?” B—“ Well,
I must confess that in one point at least
she is far ahead of you.” A—“ What
point do you mean?” B—“ Good
taste ! ”
When a friend asked a reformed in
ebriate the cause of his reformation, he
said: “As you are married you will
quite understand it when I say getting
tipsy made me see my mother-in-law
double ! ”
The story of the discovery of anew
jgnunmoth cave in Kentucky was a hoax.
The story was started by a man who
saw Goy. Bltvkklmrn’s mouth when he
was shooting profanity therefrom at an
offending newspaper reporter.
The following letter to a French
statesman is printed in Le Temps : “I
have the honor to give fair notice to the
First Minister that if he refuses me the
pension for which I have applied I shall
henceforth vote as my conscience dic
tates. ”
A boy who was recently taken to
church for the first time had his atten
tion specially drawn to a man in the
choir who was playing on a bass-viol.
After leaving the church he inquired,
“ Papa, what was that thing the man
kept scratching on its back with a
stick?”
Loute 1 , aged 3, saw his mother mak
ing a flaxseed poultice for his croupy
brother. Louie could not see any dif
ference between flaxseed and oatmeal.
So afterward, when mamma asked if
baby wanted any supper, Louie ex
claimed: “Oh, mamma, he’s got his
supper on a rag.”
Mart was very much interested in the
frosty window panes, especially after
being told that it was the work of Jack
Frost. Wnen she awoke one morning
to find the ground covered with the first
snow she ever remembered to have seen,
she cried: “ Oh, grandma, see l Jack
Frost has laid right down !”
A little girl once took a letter from
her mother to an old-lady friend.
“Many thanks, my child,” she said;
“ you may tell your mother that you
are a good child and a faithful little
messenger.” “ Thank you, ma’am; and
shall I tell her, too, that I didn’t ask
you for ten cents, because mamma told
me not to ? ”
At a Sunday-school in A., the super
intendent, desiring to impress on the
small scholars the “Trinity,” asked:
“ How many miners have you r Some
answered one, others two. “ Have you
not another father ? ” asked the super
intendent. “Yes,” answered a small
boy of 6, “grandfather.” The effect
can be imagined.
Thomas and James had new suits of
clothing at the same time. Thomas kept
his in the wardrobe, nice and clean; but
James put his right on, and wore it
every day—so it became shabby after a
time. Thomas’ suit, on the contrary,
was as good as ever when James’ was
worn out. When the boys’ father saw
the condition of his sons’ clothing he
straightway bought anew and nobby
suit for James; but, as Thomas’ suit
was as good as ever, he got no new
clothes. Both boys have now suits
equally good, but the cut of Thomas is
somewhat archaic. James says Thomas
is an awful guy.— Boston Transcript.
AN EXTENSA VE RANVHE.
The Maxwell ranche contains 1,700,-
000 acres of New Mexico land, and the
Atohison, Topeka and Santa Fe railroad
passes through it. The man whose
name it bears got it by marriage and by
purchasing various interests. He has
put it into an English stock company,
and a fence is being built around it,
i preparatory to the raising of blooded
I stock on a large scald,