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THE CALL. When evil, like a poisoned wind, Sweeps the good seed from soul and mind, Or hearts ignore the love divine— The tempter seeks each vacant shrine. We fall and feel we cannot rise. While others grasp the sacrei p; Sin’s fog enshrouds our spirits vie * Till God's clear sunshine glimmers through. — William H. Hayne. Practical Simplicity, “Jusc the way with women folks,” Mr. Harrison, “the old story of Flora McFlimsey over again, ‘nothing to wear.’ ” “But, papa, you want us to dress re¬ spectably, don’t you,” asked pretty Polly, with a suspiciou of a tear in her eye. “Why, yes; respectably,”replied Mr. Harrison, still grumpily, “my mother dressed respectably without these ever¬ lasting flummeries you girls are always teasing me for; good, plain, sensible clothes and common sense shoes, no opera toes and French heels on her feet,” and he glanced suggestively at the dainty slipper, which inopportunely showed it¬ self beneath the ruffle of Polly’s pretty morning wrapper. “Grandmamma wore a long green veil, and a nice big bonnet, too, didn't she?” said mischievous Nellie, “and her hair in a little knob at the nape of her neck.” “You needn’t make fun, miss,” re¬ plied her father, sternly, “your grand¬ mother was always sensibly and neatly dressed, and it would be refreshing to see some of her good taste in my fam¬ ily.” Lave “But, really, Mr. Harrison, the girls Lincoln’s nothing suitable to wear to Mrs. rison, grand party,” said Mrs. Har¬ a meek, gentle-voiced little woman. “No, and they haven’t had anything for the last five } r ears,” replied Mr. Har¬ rison, with withering sarcasm; “buy! buy! and yet they are in the same dis¬ tressing situation of the female before mentioned,” and he leaned back in his chair with an air of having clinched the Conversation with an unanswerable ar¬ gument. wish “I I was a man,” said pretty Nell, with a pout, “then I could wear one suit everywhere by varying my neck¬ ties. ” the “Papa, dear, you are going with us to iously picnic, ain’t you?” said Kitty anx¬ ; she was a dainty little fairy and her father’s favorite, and, as she spoke, she glanced at her sisters with eyes so full of fun and mischief, that they knew she had some plan in her fertile little brain. “Picnic!” said Mr. Harrison, in a soft¬ ened tone; he could not be cross with Kitty and she well knew it. “Bugs and earw igs! When I want my dinner sea soned with spiders and grand-daddies, I can eat it in the garden.” “Oh, but, papa, we want to go aw¬ fully !” said Kitty, coming and perching herself on his knee; she took daring ad vantage of her privileges as the young¬ est, “and it is so awkward to go to such a place without a gentleman.” “Oh, well! lean charter Tom for the occasion,” replied Mr. Harrison, quite good humoredly, “he is used to handling packages, and you’ll find he will manage your five baskets and fifteen bundles in good style.” Tom was porter in Mr. Harrison's large store, and doubtless merited the recommendation. “But that isn’t you, papa,’’replied per¬ sistent Kitty, winding her arms around her stiff-necked parent, and kissing the lips which could say such unkind things. “Oh, you wheedler!” responded Mr. Harrison, with a feeble attempt at dig¬ nity, “but there; I have just been in¬ formed that you have nothing to wear.” “Oh! just for a picnic, papa, one can wear anything, you know,” and her eyes danced a perfect jig of delighted mis¬ chief, “plain white is perfectly suitable for a bug and beetle affair of that kind.” “In my day, plain white was consid¬ ered just the thing for party occasions also,” said Mr. Harrison, quite mollified by his pet's attentions. “No hoops, or bustles, I suppose,” said Kitty, thoughtfully. “Not a hoop,” bustles, replied Mr. Harrison, “and as for pah!’’ “Now, papa. I’ll make a bargain with you,” said Kitty. “If you will go to the picnic picnic dresses with us. we’ll the agree to Isn’t wear that our to party. fair?” “Well, fair enough if there's hidden ‘ no reservations, tiously. ” replied Mr. Harrison, cau¬ “How many yards of muslin and bolts of ribbon is it going to take to be frill you for the picnic?” “If you'll give me tea dollars I think I can manage the whole matter,” replied Kitty, demurely. “Well! well! that's getting off quite he cheaply, ” said Mr. Harrison, laughin , as counted out the money, while Irs. Harrison and the sisters looked on in per¬ fect amazement, well knowing that Kitty had some plan in her wise little head, without in the least comprehending what it could be. The picnic morning was a rarity in the weather line; a perfectly clear sky, and just breeze enough to make it delightful, and Mr. Harrison was in a rare good hu¬ mor add also, which was unusual enough to materially to the pleasures of the day, for, unfortunately, he could be de¬ cidedly “grumpy” on occasions, preceding but hap¬ pily for all concerned, the day had been a particularly profitable one. “It appears to me, mother, it takes those girls an unusual time to prink this morning,” said Mr. Harrison, looking train at his watch a little nervously, “the leaves at eight.” presently,” said the “They'll be down mother, with a surreptitious smile, as she packed the sandwiches into one of the baskets. At length there was a subdued rustling on the stairs, and the three girls filed in demurely, and announced themselves ready. said Harrison, “What in--,” Mr. as his eyes fell upon them, and seeing the joke and his own defeat at one glance, he bit his lip, and left the sentence unuttered. Plain white dresses without a ruffle, tuck, or overskirt, thick, high boots, broad toes and no heels, not a hoop or bustle, they were the plainest, primmest trio of maidens, that ever appeared bright before hair a fault-finding papa. Nell’s was strained back from her high forehead, giving her a wild, hawkish look, her immense poke hat, which was adorned with a long green veil hanging in folds over one shoulder. Polly was as near hideous as possible, which under a great limp, sailor hat, flapped discontentedly at every motion, while dainty Kitty’s the good depths looks of effectually buried in a erous white sunbonnet. “Your dresses are very becoming, girls,” said Mrs. Harrison, sweetly, the youthful grandmothers ranged selves in a row. “We think so,” replied Kitty, sol¬ emnly. ‘ ‘If I could only have my black silk handkerchief apron.” reticule,” “And my Nell. “Don’t we look neat, papa?” Kitty, turning herself around for his in¬ spection. replied “Very neat,” Mr. Harrison, dryly, turning away to hide a smile mingled amusement and vexation. “We quite agree with you papa, so much frippery is all nonsense,” said Nell, arrauging her veil carefully. “And sensation we are counting on creating quite a at Mrs. Lincoln’s party,” said Polly, mischievously, as she picked out the bow of her muslin hat strings. Mr. Harrison was fairly caught in his words own trap, and his own him often repeated came back to with rather un¬ pleasant force, as he looked at his daugh¬ ters in their unbecoming array, and thought figures through of chaperoning the outlandish the day. He had not before realized how* proud he had been of the daughters whose good taste had made so much of nature’s charms, and the scanty supply of pin money, so grudgingly doled out to them. Not that Mr. Harrison’s means necessi — ~— -----©—— ^ +■» a steadily increasing . bank a CJ coun made such economy totally unnecessary, but unfortunately, as riches increased, liber¬ ality shriveled aud grew less, until Mrs. Harrison actually dreaded to ask him for money to carry on the household, even upon the most economical basis. “You see, papa, I’ve given up cosmet¬ ics, and have to rely on nature and a green veil for a complexion,” said Nell, drawing dropped her veil closely over her face, as she Polly’s arm, and took her father’s in a delightfully filial clasp. “Ah, Harrison! out for a pleasant trip, eh?’’ said a fashionable acquaintance, as they turned into Madison street, looking quizzically at the curious figures with a puzzled air. sir: yes,” replied Harrison, .. Yes, Mr. stiffly, getting month's very profits red; he would have given dressed a in the if the girls had been usual “fripperies.’’ As might have observed been expected, the party was the of all observers, as they passed along, and one little street gamin called out enthusiastically to an¬ other: “Hi there, Jimmy! see them ver Kate Greeny ways?” and Mr. Harrison felt as if he was the proprietor of a circus, and would gladly have left them to go alone, if he could have done so, without acknowledging himself iguominiouslv beaten. and In the car it was worse still; sly giggles hand, whispers greeted them on acquaint¬ every though, of course, their ances understood that there was some joke about the matter; but the girls were seemingly entirely unconscious chatted of the sensation they were creating, and head and laughed under their monstrous gear with all their accustomed vivacity, keeping close to their father the while to check any furtive attempt on his part to escape to the smoking however, car. it In the grove, was not so easy to keep him iu surveillance,and after dinner he took an umbrella and moodily stalked and off to the shade of a giant oak, for stretched himself upon the grass a siesta. He had been there hut a short time, when a couple of gentlemen strolled along that way, and, seating themselves on the other side of the tree, entered into conversation. “„8ythe way, Clifford, who stupendous are those gawks over yonder, in the millinery?” turned cold with horror; Mr. Harrison the speaker was the returned European, in whose honor Mrs. Lincoln’s party was given, and whom he had thought of in connection with Kell, who was still heart whole. “ ‘Gawks’ indeed!” “Those?” replied the gentleman ad¬ dressed as Clifford, “why they are the daughters of Mr. Harrison, the rich mer¬ chant.” “Not Chauncy Harrison’s daughters ?” replied the first in a voice of amazement. “The same,” replied the other, “and, as they are usually models of good taste and neatness, I presume there is some joke at the bottom of their absurd ap¬ pearance to-day. I shrewdly suspect their father has been giving fashion, them a cur- and tain lecture on the follies of they are giving him an ocular demonstra tion of his own ideas.” “But surely, he has no need to restrict them in any reasonable desires,” said the first voice. “Oh, no!” replied stingy the old other, in “but his they do say he is a bear own family and though dressed the girls in appear neatly and tastefully obliged public, my wife tells me that they are to turn and re-turn and make over as rigidly as if they were at the very foot of the ladder, instead of out at the top.” “It’s a shame!” broke the younger man with warmth, “a man don’t deserve a family who will treat them in way.” “That’s true,” replied the elder gen tleman, and his tone had a shade of sad ness in it. “I would give all I’m worth, if I had those merry girls to make sun shine in my quiet home, ” and he sighed, as he thought of a far away cemetery, where the hopes of a lifetime lay buried, Just here the conversation was inter rupted by Kitty, who came tripping along side of toward the the umbrella on the other tree; usually her movements were most graceful, but to-day the short, flappy of drsss persisted in catching on the tops her big shoes, in a most awkward manner. “Why, papa, are you tired of us, that you get away by yourself?” she asked, sweetly, as she curled down by his side; meanwhile the gentlemen had risen, and, looking at each other with horrified faces, had beaten a precipitate retreat. “No, Kitty ; no,” he replied, in an unusually gentle tone, and placing a caressing hand on the trim waist, “but I am thinking, so run away " dear, please,” and Kitty wisely obeyed. Yes, he was thinking, and his train of thought was on a new line, as he pon dered over and over the words he had heard, and, somehow, as he weighed his merry daughters, with their pretty, win some ways, and their gentle mother in the balance with his long bank account, ; the money side grew wonderfully light, . and he thought with a shudder of what the world would be to him with even one of the loved ones taken from him. j “ ‘Stingy old bear,’ that just describes ! it,’’ he said to himself, as lie looked back over the many contests, in which the ! very least which could be made to supply the family wants had been grudgingly given, only too frequently, with bitter words which made the giving worse than a charity. “Hasn't this said been a most delightful day, papa?” Polly, who escorted her i father home from the train. “Yes,” assented Mr. Harrison, soberly, j “and a most profitable one also,” and he meant his most “I don’t think so,” said Kitty, as they were entering the gate, “for I have a hor¬ rid green grass stain right on the hem of my dress, and I shall have to put in a new breadth before I can wear it to the party,” and Mr. Harrison bit his lip at the allu¬ sion to their compact, but said nothing. “Poor papa; he was so ashamed of us. ” said Kitty, as the girls retired to their bed, “actually, Kell, I never was so sorry for any one in my life.” “Girls,” said Mr. Harrison, the next morning at breakfast, “didn’t I hear you say something about a party to which you had been invitedf” with an innocent air of inquiring for information. mean,” 4 i At Mrs. Lincoln's, perhaps you replied Nell, falling in with his conceit and willing to ignore the past. “You may need a little pin money for the occasion,” he continued, taking a roll of bills from his pocket-book, and care¬ lessly flipping one toward the plate of each trifle of his daughters, “and wouldn’t I presume a of spending money come amiss with your mother,” he continued,as he laid a bill beside his wife's plate, and hurried away before the astonished family could thank him for such a remarkable performance. hundred dollars said Polly, in “One 1” an bill awe-struck in tone as she gazed at her amazement. “And mine is two hundred,” said the little mother, with actual tears in her happy eyes. the silk which t» That means that new you have needed so long is to be forth¬ coming at once,” said Nell, patting her own bill with loving lingers. “And for once we arc going to have party dresses, without one shred of econ¬ omy stitched into them!” said Kitty, getting pirouette up, in and delight, dancing that such the a spirited her parrot wnigged her head in wonder,as she shrilly inquired in ails her the favorite child 1”— phrase: F. M. Howard “Bless me! what , in the Current. Arbor Day. * The ^ ^ suggestion . of t planting irs ree under the direction of State authority was made by B. G. Northrop, then Secre tary of the Connecticut Board of Lduca tion, about 1865, in an official State re port. In 1876 this same gentleman en deavored to stimulate “centennial tree* planting” by the offer of prizes to tho children of Connecticut. But the idea offsetting apart a day for the work had originated with ex Governor sterling Morton, of Nebraska, who about 1872in duced the Governor of that State to issue a proclamation appointing a day for the planting of trees throughout the Sbite^ A year or two later the day was made a legal holiday by enactment of the Legis lature, and provision was made for awarding the premiums in its to observance. those who put out most trees It is said that nearly 700,000,000 Arbor Day trees are now in thriving condition on the prairie tracts of the State. The ex ample of Nebraska was soon followed by Kansas, and with grand observed rssults. in Arbor Day in Minnesota, first 1876, resulted, it is said, in planting In Michigan over a million and a half of trees. the Arbor Day law was passed in 1881, and in Ohio in 1882. Since then Arbor Day has been observed in (’olorado,\V is consin, West Virginia, Indiana, Vermont, New Hampshire, Massachusetts, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Florida, Alabama, Missouri, California, Kentucky, Maine and Georgia. In several other States its observance has been secured by the recom mendation of the Grange, the Grand Army of societies. the Republic, While or by State the agri cultural at outset economic tree-planting was the and primary aim, the adornment of home school grounds soon followed. On the first Ohio Arbor Day, the children of Cincinnati joined in an attractive celebration, in the form of planting memorial trees and dedi eating them to authors, statesmen, and other distinguished citizens. B. G. Northrup says, concerning the value of the observance of Arbor Day: "While forests should not be planted on our rich, arable lands, there are in New England of and all the Atlantic States large areas barrens worthless for field wood-growing, crops,that may profitably he devoted to The feasibility of reclaiming our most sterile wastes is proved abroad. by many Atlantic facts both at home and Our sand plains were once c overed with for¬ ests and can be re-forested. Over 10,000 acres on Cape Cod, which thirty years ago were barren, sandy plains, are now with thriving planted forests.— Inter-Ocean. Tennyson is reported in failing health, and discussion is already rife as to who will succeed him as Laureate.