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Sea-Music. Sink. sun. in crimson far away, Float out, pale moon, above the roar, While brown and silver, flame and gray, ’Round rock aud sand the waters pour; For night had clew to all the store Of wild wave-harmony that rings. And Earth hath not in all her lore Such legends as sea-music brings. Here singing silver shallows fray The ruby-tufted, golden floor, Here wondrous twilit forests sway ’Round coral porch and corridor Where lurk—but ah, why yet implore The splendid dream that ’round them clings? Where the dead lie who heard of yore The legends that sea-music brings. This is the sea that could not stay The tides of in n, that evermore Rolled westward still and cleft its spray With hollowed trunk and dauntless oar; Here Grecian trireme reeled before Rome’s purple galley; here sea-kings Left red on wave and black ned shore The Lgends that sea-music brings. Earth keeps not now the face sho wore; The smoke trails dusk, the wide white wings; No longer as of old shall soar The legends that sea-music brings. THE DINNER PARTY. EY EMMA A. OrPEK. “You’ll come, won’t you, my dear?” Eaid Mrs. Bostwick, adjusting her velvet • wrap as she arose, the long jets on her dress jingling'softly. “There will be only ourselves and my future son-in-law, Mr. Gilman, and Mr. Samson, our pas¬ tor, and Eveline Gordon and her broth¬ er. Just an informal little dinner. I’ll send the carriage for you; you mustn’t fail me.” 1 ‘And she called her lunch- party last month ‘just a simple little affair,’ ” said Jessie, sitting down on a stool at her grandmother’s feet, when she had gone; “and then how I felt in my old brown cashmere, among the satins and the dia¬ monds! And I’ve nothing but my poor old pink tiling for this. I oughtn't to ljeep it up, grandma. She’s very kind, of course, but because she was^ a friend of Aunt Mary’s isn’t any reason why she should try to get Aunt Mary’s poor lit¬ tle niece into society. And I can’t af¬ ford it; and it would be easier for me-if Mrs. Bostwick would stop inviting me. I don’t know why she does!” Grandnia, smiling down fondly on the gentle grand-daughter whom she had brought up, thought she knew. Even beyond Mrs. Bostwick’s un¬ doubted kindness of heart there were obvious reasons. An uncommonly bright and pretty girl was an attraction and addition in anybody’s parlor and at anybody’s table. “Keep on if you enjoy it, dear,” said grandma, kindly. “I’ll go tonight, because I’ve prom¬ ised; and then I’m going to tell Mrs. Bostwick,” said Jessie, biavely, “that I can’t afford it.” She was a sensible girl, and she felt no regret for the decision, not even when she stood before her glass, that evening, in the “old pink thing,” looking her prettiest and feeling her brightest. The flowers at her corsage had cost more than she could well afford, and the bugled ruching crushed by her round chin had taken the last dollar in her purse, and she shook her yellow head at her attractive reflection. “You look as gay as a new penny!” said grandma, admiringly. I l And you call to mind—I wan’t thinking of it— but you take me right back to one night, summer before last, when we was out to your Unc’e Joseph’s. You was going down the road to some kind of doings, with the young folks, and you had a pink dress with some flowers stuck on,' just as you've got now. S’pose you’ve forgot it?” Jessie’s face was lowered, It had grown red and warm, and her eyes were brightened, and yet softened. Forgotten it? No; and she knew she never should forget it. The dress had been pink gingham, and the flowers some wilty little “Chinese-globe-fiow ers” that grew in Uncle Joseph's yard, and the occasion had been a “pound party” at the little parsonage. But it liad been the happiest summer in her life. In the face of all the gaie¬ ties that had followed, Jessie con¬ fessed it. She was only seventeen then, and Al fred Foster was twenty. He had lived next to Uncle Joseph’s—a hard-working fanner’s boy, tall, red-handed, brown faced, and perhaps a little awkward. But j he had fine eyes and a gentle voice, and far j better manners than her cousins, Bob and ! Seldon, and they had won their way into Jeseie’s soft heart. Had he cared for her? She did not know—only, coming home from the minister's that night, he had been hesi¬ tant and stammering. It had seemed as though he tv as trying to say some¬ thing he was half afraid to say; and when lie left her at the door, he had pressed her hand very hard, and ling¬ ered a little. And the next week they had come back to the city, and that had been the end. ’ Well, it had been a boy and girl affair at the best, and Jessie had tried to for¬ get it. But she had never quite suc¬ ceeded. And in the depths of her heart she had cherished a faint hope of meet¬ ing him again some time. It was not likely, since Uncle Joseph had moved to Dakota. But the thought would come up now and then. She was thinking of it, dreamily, when Mrs. Bostwick’s coachman left her at Mrs. Bostwick’s imposing front tfoor. “You look charming!” said Mrs Bostwick, as she kissed her at the wide parlor door. i i You'll captivate all the gentlemen. George sent a college friend, who is in the city temporarily, with a letter of introduction. And he is such a gentleman! I'd have given him over to you > for dinner if I could have managed it. They were in the big, bright room, and Jessie had nodded to pretty Miss Bostwick, and stood waiting quietly for introductions. “Miss Brooks, Mr. Gilman—Mr. Sam¬ son—Mr. Fester,” said Mrs. Bostwick, benignly. And Jessie bowed. Hut when she raised her eyes, she stood quite still, quite silent and motion¬ less, save for her trembling hands. Her heart seemed to have bounded up to her throat. She wondered whether she were not a little insane, or absurdly dreaming. It was Alfred Foster himself who had risen to greet her. “Miss Brooks!” he exclaimed in frank delight. And then Mrs. Bostwick took Mr, Samson’s arm, and Mr. Gilman offered his to Jessie, # and Alfred took charge of Eveline Gordon, and Miss Bostwick fol¬ lowed with young Mr. Gordon, and they went in to dinner. Yes, it -was Alfred! If she had known ten minutes ago that she should meet lihn so soon, she would have felt nothing but gladness; but now, there was a dreary pain in her heart, a queer sense of loss. It was he—lie in a dress-suit, his bauds no longer red nor his face brown —quiet, gentlemanly, low-voiced, and certainly the handsomest man at the table. And—George’s college friend! Of course there was but one explana¬ tion. Had somebody left him a for¬ tune? or had they found an oil or gas well on the farm? Jessie wondered al ,most miserably, while her soup grew cc-ld. It was something of the sort, surely. Whatever it was, there was a great distance between them now. She was a poor girl, and he was—she did not know what; but he was no longer the sirnple hearled, hard-working young farmer she had known. She looked at him wistfully. “I have met Mr. Foster before,” she explained to Mr. Gilman, who, after a dozen observations and vague responses, had begun to stare at her. “All!” he assented. “He—was different then,” said Jes sie. Mr. Gilman restored her dropped fan in wondering silence. “It costs a good deal, doesn’t it, to go to college?” said Jessie, timidly. Mr. Gilman dissembled his bewilder¬ ment. “Well, it depends, you know, You can do it economically, of course; but I guess I got away with three or four thousand during my four years.” Three or four thousand! Jessie gasped. Across the table, Alfred Foster was trying to talk to Miss Gordon. His fine face was a little paler than its wont. “Yes she is very pretty,” said the young lady, mischievously, following the direction of the young man's gaze. “And you’re deeply in love with her al¬ ready. Confess it, Mr. Foster!” “But you see, Miss Gordon, we are old friends,” he explained, “And I haven’t seen her in two years, And it doesn’t look much as though I should see her again — not acceptably. She seems so much changed! Is she a very great society young lady?” “I know her very slightly,” said Miss Gordon, good-naturedly. “I know that Mrs. Bostwick is very fond of her.” “And Mrs. Gordon would not be apt to make a poor girl her protege!” Alfred reflected, gloomily, “She wasn’t rich then, but it “I suppose she’s no end of money?” he said, aloud, trying to say it lightly. “There wouldn’t be any chance for a poor fellow like me?” “I dare say not,” said Miss Gordon, laughing, with unsuspicious eyes on the old pink gown, which was showy under the gaslight. “And the gentleman talking to her?” said Alfred, with sober eyes on the two. “He’s a millionaire, I suppose? aud de¬ voted to her?” “Mr. Gilman?” said Miss Gordon, in enjoyment of his pleasant humor. “Oh, yes, Mr. Gilman is the richest young man in our set; but I’ve heard that he’s become engaged lately—” “Why, to Miss Brooks, of course!” Alfred supplemented, with a hollow laugh. “Nothing is more likely.” “It’s quite probable,” said Miss Gor¬ don, laughing with him. IIow it happened, Mrs. Bostwick, who was a model hostess, and a great schecmer for the enjoyment of her guests, could not have told, but her pretty protege and George’s handsome friend were separated during the entire evening. She was sure they would have liked each other so much—a pretty girl and a nice young man. Why not? She was decidedly provoked. And her provocation gave her courage for a some¬ what bold stroke. “I’m going to send the Gordons home in the carriage, and let Mr. Foster walk home with you,” she whispered to Jes¬ sie, as the girl put on her wraps silently at rather an early hour; she had com¬ plained of a headache, and she did look pale. “It’s a lovely night; it will do your head good, I’m sure.” And Jessie went down the moonlit street a moment later with her fluttering hand on Alfred Foster’s arm. “Did you have a good time, dear?” said grandma’ sleepily, rousing from a doze as her granddaughter entered. “Lovely! ’ cried Jessie, softly. “Do you know who was there, grandma? Alfred Foster. Do you want to hear all about it?” She sat down, with her elbows on grandma’s lap, and gfaadma listened, be wilderedly. “I mean,” she said, breathlessly, “that we had a good time coming home; we had a miserable evening. You re¬ member him, don’t you, grandma?” And 1’vo remembered him. But he looked so nice in a dress suit, and Mrs. Bostwick said he w r as a college friend of George’s, and I thought of course ho must have got suddenly rich or some¬ thing, I didn’t know what; blit I didn’t suppose he’d look at me, and I was just miserable.” She laughed a little happily. “But he's only taking a two years’ medical course—he always did want to he a doctor—and he’s worked awfully hard for the money, and he says he economizes dreadfully. He's in the city to sec about the prospects for settling here when he’s through. And the dress suit wasn’t his, poor fellow; George Bostwick had made him take his, for fear he’d need it. lie said he’d meant to hunt me up when he got here, But do you know, grandma, that he was afraid of me, too? He thought—well, all kinds of ridiculous things. Wasn’t it funny—both of us thinking so, and being just wretched all the evening?” “Yes,” said grandma, sympathetically “And what now, child?” “Well, he’s—going to write to me/ Jessie faltered. “And he’s going to settle here, said grandma, with a thoughtful premoni¬ tion of the loss of her pretty grand¬ daughter. ‘ ‘Well, well !”—Saturday Night. Chili’s Aggressive Enterprise. Chili is maintaining her reputation as the most enterprising nation in South America. Her latest progressive move was to contract for 10,000,000 ties and a quantity of timber from the region about Puget Sound. This material is to be used in constructing a transcontinental railroad through Chili and the Argentine Republic, an 1 for building several new lines in the mining region and one up the coast into Peru. To make sure that the work will be well done the govern ment is sail to have engaged a number of American civil engineers and practical contractors. When the new lines are completed they will connect the silver mines of the Andes and the business centers of Peru with the principal paths of South American commerce.— Chicag* Herald. I tv V i ) 3 4 1 — ME Is. ' t # / a. crm^ \\ 4 [J I o / V I o. l* > '•v'mT •Xi 3Z gggssr' [•» •* ** <_*’» * > cC \i ,v 4 i i. i < r ~3, •»' i Lm AN HONEST DQCTOR, finding his patient suffering from that most common of American maladies— Bilious Dyspepsia, or, in other words, from Torpid Liver, associated with indi¬ gestion, advised him to go to the drug store and get Dr. Pierce’s Golden Medical Discovery the world-famed remedy for such ailments. Golden Medical Discovery acts powerfully upon the Liver, and through that great blood-purifying organ, cleanses the system of all blood-taints and impuri¬ ties, from whatever cause arising. It is equally eillcacious in acting upon the Kidneys, and other excretory organs, cleansing and strengthening them and ‘healing their diseases. As an appetizing restorative tonic, it promotes digestion and nutrition, thereby building up both flesh and strength. It is the only medicine of its class, guaranteed to benefit or cure, in all diseases for which it is recommended, or money paid for it will be promptly refunded. Copyright, 1888, by World’s Dispensary Medical Association, Proprietors. \ I $500 mmuH»■■ the *->y7»~yp-Trmrt proprietors ■■■■• ■■■! of iniianCatarrh !•: DR. l SAGE’S l for nil CATARRH incurable in tho REMEDY. Head case by of KS&Jwi SYMPTOMS OP t’ATAHUBI.—Headache, obstruction of nose, discharges c’iit ’V failing into throat, sometimes profuse, watery, and acrid, at others, thick, f tenacious, mucous, purulent, bloody and putrid; eyes weak, ringing in cars, / \ * deafness, difficulty of clearing throat, expectoration of offensive debility. matter; Only // ii ? breath offensive; smell and’taste impaired, present and general Thousands of a few of these symptoms likely to be at ouoe. cuses result in consumption, and end in tho gravo. * *. By its mild, soothing, antiseptic, eleutiRing, and healing everywhere. properties, I)r. page’s Itomedy cures the worst eases. Only 50 cents. Sold by druggists * A Great Scamp. Some miscreant who will be a marked man if he is ever discovered, played a contemptible and most scurvy trick on the Chicago Freie Frcsse. At an early hour yesteiday morning the party above office allude J to broke a window in tho and entered the composing apartments. ;IIe did not come to steal anything, be cnise he was well enough posted not to go near a newspaper office to pilfer, par¬ ticularly after the opulent editors and the reportoriul wanted Vanderbilts pi—good, had old gone home. pi. He German Ilis soul yearned for it and he got it. •grabbed Going to each of the printers’ cases, he handfuls of German and Sans¬ crit type, and with the abandon of a thorough villain, distributed them where they would do the most harm. Lower¬ case “in’s” came into friendly juxtaposi¬ tion with small-cap “x’s” and “fit’s," and “Ill’s” were eu rapport with the of our daddies. The whole alphabet was thus treated, This little irregularity was not discovered until several columns of matter had beeu set, and then the proof-readers began to talk in a language unfitted for use in Sunday-Schools. Women are now authorized to practice medicine in Canada, a license having been granted to Miss Mitchell, a graduate of Queen’s University, Kingston. w B I prescribe and folly en w dorse Big <; as the only m r TO Corwin 6 uatS.^H •»d specific this dlseaeo. for the certain cute lurutert i ul of noHSulotnx*. no* ■ G. H.IN<UlA II AM, M. D., Amsterdam, N. Y. ICrdcclj hy tho We have sold Big G for y Inti denial So. many years, and It 1ms m Cincinnati,® -.given the bent of sails . 14 A “ faction. Ohio. D. It. DYCHE&CO.. Chicago, 111. Trafle □urkVSf.OO. Bold by Druggists A. N. U...... .......Sixteen, ’89. Bci'm The Gold Hunters 9 Ad* ;Zh ventures in Australia, [F mm by Wm. He Thornes, % m FkWZ 1 etdllsf story of t«ro Ysnlwsj’ A^rsnturss fa AastndU, in tl*« sfirly days, wUc» the discovery of gsld Li.., •ttcactsd • motley crowd of rockUn, lining useni m B«sktnuifsrr, *‘lkketvof Losvo,’* Outlaws, nnd enry [ft variety of AdvmUiren* % ThemoBtfiiarinMinJC&Uiry of DAK* |W mm and OKU, CONFLICT, KXCITEdlK>iT, written! HABDSHIP SI 5 ever jj| f | r fUsstreilos,, A spkadld volume «ltk liutern* of 664 Bettered **£**• ftC ^ Colcred 4 1 Cover. ptft ' y._ ?L. Tho Chwsoit, lorrottool meet Ewtsoito-of hookil m ■1 i Err- K® J PK1CE ONLY 25 postpaid CENTS! Sslt by ill iiT! raK -/■4b t -"t«w*4wlori, or iwt hy jmbibhofi. ilf M.EX. T. LOYD A CO„ Thu Xatke Wmm liwl A »w« Building, Chicago,111. OTPoall by PoiUi Noto, Cots, or ooe cost itnnp. o |°rs n I*- (OlS JQ rfti£ * r* He Bea 5 Waterproof i r Coat. Tb« FISH BBAIID 6LTCKXB In oirrsakd wntsrproof, nsd will kwp 1®° tbo bnrdoot ntortn. Tun s«w POMMEL fiUCKXB in ft ^orfoct ridlft* eovnrntbo ontlro nnddi*. Bownro of lmlutloftn. Mono nonsiBO without tfto rina Brand” tmdo-mnrk. Dlnotratcd Cotologwo froo. A. J. Towor, Boaton, mono. V Vy ; K.A In 18831 contracted Blood Poldon • M A H of had type, and was treated with mercury, potash nnd sursapariila mixtures,growing 1 took bottles worsonll tho time. 7 small H. S. S. which ■ cured mo entirely, nnd no sign of the dreudfui disease lias returned. J. V. Nance, * Jun. 10, '89. Ilobbyvillc, lud. - ■I Ily little niece had white swelling to such an extent that sho was con¬ fined to tho bed for a long time. Moro of tlftn her leg, SO pieces and tyu of doctors iion<? camo said out amputation was refused tho only too remedy operation to save her life. I U): jr and put her on 8.S.S. and slio Is now u p mid active end In us good health as any child. Mias An.nik Gbeslino. Feb. 11, ’E9. Columbus, Go. Book on Blood Diseases sent free. 3 0 YHi 'M Hwipt Spncu-’io Co. Drawer 3, Atlanta, Ga. Ely's Cream Balm Price 50 Cents, W’M.li CURE ass a (JATARRU jWFEVEft^ r-<If j' Apply Balm into each nostril. *# 50 c] ELY BROS..56 Warren Ht.,N. Y. MOTHERS’FiBB MAKES CHILD BIRTH EASY IF USED BEFORE CONFINEMENT. Book to •‘Motukhh - ’Mailed :Kree. liKADFIKLD UKUt LATOH CO., ATLAATAJGA, Bold uy all Ducogists. ASTHMA Asthma Care QUJ German relief cases,Insures rievor/aOr to comfort¬ give fet- _ medwte in tap worst able sleep; effect* cures where ail others fall A trial convinces Druggists tAe most skeptical. Bamnlo PrioeO 'Z t fEirstamp. K i.OO,ol Dolt.SOHIYFMAN,St.Pan or by mail. 4 Blair’s Pills Great English Gout an® Rheumatic Remedy. Ot*I Box, 34j round 14 Pill*.