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’Tis Better to Laugh.
The sunniest skies are the fairest,
The happiest hours are the best,
Of all of life’s blessings the rarest
Are pictures of pleasure and rest.
Though Fate is our wishes denying.
Let each bear his part like a man,
Nor darken the world with our sighing—
’Tis better to laugh when we can.
Each heart has its burden of sorrow,
Each soul has its shadows profound;
’Tis sunshine we’re yearning to borrow
From those who may gather around.
T?hen let us wear faces of pleasure
The world will be happy to scan.
A scowl is to no one a treasure—
’Tis better to laugh when we can.
—Chicago Herald.
HIS NEIGHBOR’S SEES.
BY AM Y RANDOLPH.
It was a still, frosty evening in Octo¬
ber, with the moon just old enough to
cast a ruddy light on the leaf-carpeted
path, and the ancient stone wall, all
broidered over with lichens and moss.
The air was instinct with sweet aro¬
matic scents, and one red light burned
like a beacon star in the cottage window
on the hill.
“Look!” said Fleda Fenwick.
C( Mamma has lighted the lamp! U’s
high time we were home.”
“And you haven’t said yes!” mourn¬
fully uttered Jack Trevelyn.
“And I don’t mean to say yes!”
Jack seated himself on the stone wall.
just where the bars had been taken
down. He was a handsome, sunburned
fellow, with sparkling black eyes and
a rich, dark complexion, as if, in his
far back ancestry, there had been some
olive-browed Spaniard. Fleda leaned
against the bars, the moon turning her
fair hair to gold and lingering like blue
sparks in the deeps of her laughing
eyes. If ever opposites existed in
nature, they existed there, and then.
“I’ve a great mind to go away to
sea,” said Jack, slowly and vengefully.
“Do,” saucily retorted F.eda.
“And never come back again!”
“Oh, Jack!”
“The idea,” he cried, raising both
hands as if to invoke the fair moonher-
self by way of audience, “of a girl re¬
fusing to be married simply because she
hasn’t got somo particular sort of a
wedding gown to stand up in.”
“If I can’t be married like other
girls, I won’t be married at all,” de¬
clared Fleda, compressing her rosy
lips.
“The idea of keeping a man waiting
for that! ’ groaned Jack.
“It won’t be long,” coaxed Fleda.
“But, look here, Fleda, why can’t
we go quietly to church and be mar¬
ried, any day, and get the gown after¬
wards?” pleaded Jack.
“But, Jack, it wouldn’t be the same
thing at all. A girl gets married but
once in her life, and she wants to look
decent then."
“My own darling you would look an
angel in anything! ’
“Now, quit that. Jack!” laughed
Fleda. “It’s what my school children
call ‘taffy. y »»
“1 hate your school children,” said
Jack, venomously. “I hate your
school. I despise the trustees, aud I
should like to see the building burn
down. Then you would hava to coma
to me.”
“No, I shouldn’t,” averred Fleda.
‘T should lake in millinery and dress¬
making until I had earned enough for
the white silk dress. I never would —
Oh, Jack! Who’s that?”
“A tramp? I’ll soon settle him with
blackthorn! ’ cried Trevelyn,spring¬
my
ing up.
> i No, don’t,” whispered Fleda,
shrinking close to him; “it’s Mr.
Mingden. He’s on his own premises;
these woods belong to him. It's we
that are trespassers. Wait! Stand
still until he has gone by. He’s very
near-sighted, and he will never see
us.”
“And who,” breathed Jack, as a
stout, elderly person trotted slowly
across the patch of moonlight, and van¬
ished behind the stiff laurel hedge, “is
Mr. Mingden?”
‘ Don’t you know? Our neighbor.
The new gentleman who has bought
Smoke Hall.”
“The old cove who is always quar¬
reling with you?”
“Yes—the very man who hates bees
so intolerably, and wants mamma to
take away all those lovely hives, down
by the south fence, ne says he can’t
take his constitution in prace, because
he’s always afraid of being stung.” .
“Why don’t he take it somewhere
else, then?"
4 v That's the very question,” *aid
F.eda,
“Mingden, eh? I believe he must be
Harry Mingden’s uncle—it’s not such a
very common name,” said Jack, reflec¬
tively. “Aud Harry’s my college chum
—and I’m going to ask him to be my
best man at tho wedding. ”
“Ob, Jack! I hope he isn’t as disa¬
greeable as his unclel” cried E.fleda.
“He’s a trump!”
“Besides, I don’t believe his uncle
will Jet him come!” added the girl.
“Not let him come? Why shouldn’t
he?”
“Because he hates us so on account
of the bee3.”
( t But, Isay, Fleda!” cried the young
man, “this complicates matters! 1
promised to go and sei Harry Mingden
when I was down here.”
‘ Go and see him, then; but don’t
mention the name of Fenwick, for your
life.”
“Indeed I shall. Isn’t it the name
of all others in which I take the most
pride?”
“Oh, Jack, you will only make more
trouble! It’ll be worse than the bees.
Promise me. Jack, or I’ 11 never, never
speak to you again.”
Aad Jack had to promise, after some
unwilling fashion.
Mr?. Fenwick, a pretty, faded little
widow was full charged with indigna¬
tion when Fleda returned from her
stroll in the woods.
“Mamma, what is the matter?” said
Fleda.
“One of the hives was t-tipped over
tonight,” sobbed Mrs. Fenwick; “and
I’m sure he did it.”
“It was the wind, mamma.”
“No wind ever did that, Fleda.
But I set it up again. 1 will never,
never sacrifice my apiary to his absurd
prejudices.”
“Dear mamma, if you would only
have the hives moved to the other side
of the garden! ’ pleaded Fleda, caress¬
ingly.
“And sacrifice a question of princi¬
ple! Never!' replied the widow.
Mrs. Fenwick, ordinarily the most
amiable of women, was roused on this
subject to au obstinacy which could
only be characterized as vindictive.
And Mr. Ezra Mingden was ten times
as bad as his neighbor.
“That woman is a dragoness, Hal'’
he said to his nephew. “She keeps
those bees simply to annoy me. I hate
bees. Bees hate me. v «ery time I
walk there I get stung.”
4 4 But, uncle, you shouldn’t orandish
your cane about so,” reasoned Harry.
“It’s sure to enrage ’em.”
“I don’t brandish it on the woman's
side of the fence. If her abominable
buzzing insects persist in trespassing in
my garden, am I not bound to protect
myself sputtero 1 Mr. Mingden.
“Can't you walk somewhere else?”
“Can’t she put her bees somewhere
else?”
44 But, uncle, all this seems such a
trivial affair.”
“Trivial, indeed! If you’d been
stung on your nose and your ear and
your eyelids and everywhere else, would
you call it trivial? I never eat honey,
aad I’ve always considered bees to be
an absurdly overrated section of ento¬
mology. What business have her bees
to be devouring all my flowers? How
would she like it herself?”
Harry Mingden smiled to see the de¬
gree of fury to which the old gentleman
was gradually working himself up. He
was already in Jack Trevelyn’s confi¬
dence, and thus, to a certain extent,
enjoyed the unusual opportunity of see¬
ing both sides of the question.
“Look here, sir,” said he, “why
don’t you set up a colony of bee-hives,
yourself? If her bees rifle your flow¬
ers, let yours go foraging into her gar¬
den. Let her see, as you suggest, how
she would like it herself. Put a row
of hives as close to your side of the
fence, as you can get it. If they fight f
let ’em fight. Bees are an uncommon¬
ly war-like race, I’m told; if they agree
what is to prevent ’em bringing half
tbe honey into your hives?”
“By Jove,” said Mr. Mingden, start¬
ing to his feet, “I never thought of
that. TII do it! I wonder where the
deuce they sell, bees! There isn’t a
moment to be lost.”
“I think I know of a place where I
could buy half a dozen hives,” said
Harry.
■a
“The gentleman wants to buy some
bees,” said Fleda. “Drar mamma, do
sell yours; wo can easily get all the
honey we want—’’
“But I’ve kept bees all my life,”
sa'd Mrs. Fenwick, piteously.
“Yes, but they’ra such a car^
mamma, now that you are no longer
young, and you are hardly able to look
after them in swarming time, and—
(she dared not allude to the trouble
they were making in neighborly rela¬
tions, but glided swiftly on to the next
vantage point)—“it wi 1 be just exactly
the money I want to finish the sum for
my wedding dress.”
Mrs. Fenwick’s face softened; she
kissed Fieda’s carmine cheek, with a
deep sigh.
‘ For your sake, then, darling,” said
she. “But I wouldn’t for the world
have Mr. Mingden think that I would
concede a single inch to—’’
“I don’t know that it is any of Mr.
Mingden’s business,” said Fleda,
quietly.
The next day MA Mingden trotted
to look at his new possessions.
4s Too bad that Harry had to go back
to town before he had a chance to see
how the bee-hives looked in their
place,” soliloquized he. “A capital
idea, that of his. I wonder what the
old lady will say when she secs the op¬
position apiary! Won’t she be furious!
Ha, ha, ha!”
He adjusted his spectacles as he
hastened down towards the sunny south
walk which had heretofore been the
battle-ground. There was the row of
square, white hives on his side of the
fence—but lo! and behold! the bench
that had extended on the other side
was vacant and deserted!
“Why!” he exclaimed, coming to an
abrupt standstill. “What has she done
with her bees?”
“Sold ’em all to you, sir,” said
Jacob, the gardener. “Aud a flue lot
they be! And not an unreasonable
price neither! Mr. Harry looked arter
that hissolf.”
“I hope you’ll be very kind to them,
sir!” uttered a soft, pleading little
voice, and Elfleda Fenwick’s golden
head appeared just above the pickets of
the fence. “And I never knew until
just now that it was vou who beuo-ht
them.”
“Humph!” said Mr. Mingden.
“But, I hope, after this,” kindly
added Fleda, “that we shall never have
any more trouble—as neighbors, I
mean. It has made me very unhappy,
and —”
The blue eyes, the faltering voice,
melted the old gentleman at last.
“Then don’t let it make you unhappy
any longer, my dear!” said he, reaching
over the pickets to shake hands with
the pretty special pleader. “Hang the
bees! After all, what difference does
it make which side of the fence they’re
on? So you’re the little school teacher,
are you? I’m blessed if I don’t wish I
was young enough to go to school to
you myself l”
Fleda ran ba^a. to the house in secit
glee. believe,” “the
“I do she thought,
Montague and Capulet feui is healed
at last! And ldo believe” (kuittiug
her blond brows), “that Jack told
young Mingden all about the bees, and
that that is the solution of this mys¬
tery !”
But that evening there came a pres¬
ent of white grapes from the Mingden
greenhouses to Mrs. Fenwick, with the
old gentleman’s card.
“He must have been very much
pleased to get the bees,” thought the
old lady. “If I had only known he
liked bees, I should have thought very
differently of him. All this shows how
slow we should be to believe servants’
gossip and neighborhood tattle! If I
had knq^vn he was tho purc.aser, I
should have declined to negotiate; but
perhaps everything has happened for
the best!”
Jack Trevelyn thought so, when he
stood up in the village church, a fort¬
night from that time beside a fair vision
in glittering white silk, and a vail that
was like crystalized frost-work. And
the strangest part of all was that old
Mr. Mingden was there to give the
bride away !
“I take all ;ne credit to myself,”
mischievously whispered Harry Ming-
dea, the “best man.” “But I’m afraid
it is easier to set machinery in motion
than to stop it afterwards! And it’s
just possible that I may have an aunt-
in-law yet.”
“Stranger things have happened,”
sa d the bridegroom. — Tie Ledger.
He Was Convinced.
«—Prisoner, do ycu confess
your guilt?
4 No Y'our Honor. The speech of
my lawyer has convinced even me of
my entire iunocecc-.”
A NEW NATION.
It Will Consist of the United
States of Australasia.
The Colonies to Unite in a
Great Federal Union.
Another ( 4 United States’' will, ere
very long, no doubt, take its place
among the federal unions of the earth.
This will be the United States of Au=-
tralasia, which will be composed of the
various islands in the Australasian seas,
which, from time to time, have been
taken possession of and colonized by
Great Britian.
A conference looking to this end, and
comprising representatives from the
several colonies, has recently closed it3
sessions at Melbourne, the capital of
the colony of Victoria. This impor.
tant body was unanimous in its decision
that the colonies should be bound to¬
gether by a closer tie than that which
now exists. The only tie between them
now is that they are one and all subjects
to the British crown. The conference
resolved that a convention, composed
of delegates from all the colonies,
should be called, empowered to con¬
sider and report on a scheme of
a federal constitution, The colo-
nies to be embraced in this remote
United States will probably be at least
ten in number, including those which
are self-governing and crown colonies.
The self-governing colonies are New
South Wales, New Zealand, Queens¬
land, South Australia, Tasmania, Victo¬
ria and West Australia. The principal
crown colonics are F;jii, New Guinea,
and the Western Pacific Islands, The
former practically govern themselves as
nearly independent States, while the
crown colonies are ruled directly by the
Imperial government, and * be
may
likened to our Territories.
That the new federal union will be a
large and important one may be seen
from the fact that it will contain a
population of not far from four millions
of people, at least a million more than
the American colonies contained when
they won their independence.
The mineral and agricultural re¬
sources and the commercial interests of
these colonies are large and various.
The imports of Australia alone are
worth annually two hundred and fifty
millions of dollars, while its exports of
wool, meat and gold /each nearly the
same figure.
It must be remembered that most of
these colonies are really great English
communities, peopled by English colon¬
ists and their descendants, and de¬
veloped and expanded by English in¬
telligence and enterprise. They have
become used, for the most part, to free
institutions, to popular elections, and
to liberal and progressive legislation.
They have closely followed the
mother country m establishing board
systems of education, and in providing
the people with every element of health,
protection and comfort, They are
therefore quite ripe for taking their
place, in a federal union, among the
powerful and growing civilized nations
of the earth. The new nation, more¬
over, will be essentially a naval power.
Not only will it be wholly composed of
islands, all of which are provided
with good harbors and natural naval
defences, but Australia at least, the
largest of them all, is altogether a
series of coast states. The interior of
Australia is a vast wilderness, hitherto
unsettled by Earopeaus. Most Aus-
tralian colonies then, are connected
with each other only by the sea.
The object of the new federal union
is mainly that of mutual projection
and defence. Each state will he' 1 the
others in case of attack; a
will protect one aad all.
The new nation i3 likely
for a while at least, under the nominal
rule of Great Britain. The connection
between the colonies and the mother
country has still mutual advantages,
which will not be hastily discarded.
Great Britain as a great naval power,
now has in the Asiatic seas many har¬
bors where her fleets may find safetv,
and take in coal and provisions.
On the other hand, the Australasian
colonies, in case they are attacked by
some formidable maritime power, like
France, may now depend upon the aid
of the strong arm of the British navy.
British rule rests so lightly on the
colonics that they do not feel it a bur¬
den. They know that they can become
absolutely independent any day they
choose, and the tendency of a f e ^
union will no doubt be to gracing
bring about their independence.]
Youth's Companim.
A Wonderful Japanese Family
“A thousand years in one houseM
(ikka sen-nen) is an old Japanese J
ing, employed with reference to]
event which, in respect of sigh;] extr.j
rarity, may be classed with the
a dead donkey or a tinker’s fn n J
The Hochi Shimbuo. says that an J ]
stance may at present be found i a
household of a merchant called lf 7 J
Gensuke, who resides at Kanazawa, 1
the Saitama district of Sado. |
family consists of the following mj
bers: Great- great - great - grand*!
Gengo, aged 130; Great-great-
grandmamma Tomi, aged 132; GrJ
great-grandpapa Gembei, aged J
Great-great-grandmamma Miyo, 3!
99; Great-great-grandaunt Yoshi, 3)
105; Great-grandpapa Gensuke, i
81; Great-grandmamma Kimi, aged
Grandpapa Gempachi, aged 61; Gr»
mamma Toyo, aged 60; Papa Genkic
aged 40; Mamma Tome, aged 38; ( i
cle Genroku, aged 35; Son Genshit
aged 14; Daughter Toki, aged 5. ]
united ages of the fourteen amouii
at the close of last year to 9S0, j
consequently became 994 on the J
day of this year, according to the JJ
anese method of calculation. U
New-Year’s Day, supposing that da
had not intervened meanwhile, i
aggregate ages would be 1008, ana
994 is nearer 1,000 than 1,008, j
family have resolved to celebrate a
ikka sen-nen this Spring by a visit
the shrine of Ise, and afterward
Kyoto, where the whole fourteen, fr
the little tot of 5 to the grayheadJ
he still has any hair—of 130, will
their sightseeing in company.
Wooden Shoes.
About the most foreign looks
things in New York are the sabots wfl
by a few thousand French aad (2
mans and by some others engaged!
peculiar operations. There probal
has never been a time in the history!
New York since the Dutch settlenJ
when wooden shoes were not worn bl
considerable percentage of the popil
tion, but it is hard to find a maker I
sabots anywhere in the city who 1
speak more than a half dozen work!
English. Their shops are mo3tlyl
the French quarter of Wooster I
Houston streets and in the German fl
of the cast sido tenement region. 1
shoes are made in half a dol
different forms some entirely I
wood and scooped out to look ■
small canoes, others chiefly of wol
but with a rough leather upper, ■
others again chiefly of leather, witl
stout, misshapen sole of wood. ■
leather is of the heaviest and coat*
kind, except that which is put into*
shoes of stage dancers. Ice cri El
makers use high coarse leather sht
with thick wooden soles. They (
about $2 a pair, and would last
definitely but for the effect of the i
on the leather. French and Gen
women mostly wear the canoe3 entit
of wood. They stuff them 1
twisted straw at the heel and someti
over the instep, and thus keep the a
on to protect the foot from rubba
The cheapest of these shoes bring ais
$1.25 a pair.— W. Y. Sun.
„ Heredity and Beauty.
Heredity has much to do, of
with facial beauty and
Generations of cultured associations
education will naturally produce
of innate refinement and
^ ^ le cours c of such a life in a
is uninterrupted, it will lead morel
more to beauty and refinement of I
tures. But it is, unfortunately,
uninterrupted. There is degencrai i
in nearly every generation, stock!
through crossing with coarser
lack of education or moral influence!
cultured associations, or the demon
ing defects of dissipation or low j
suits.
A Magnificent Water Plant-
leaves of the Victoria regio TheA J j
tain a diameter of six feet,
circular, with a raised rim like the I
of a shallow tin pan. The large-* -j
ers are 23 inches across, They
white, with a yellow center,
hale a wonderful perfume. The i
and leaves stretch out 20 feet from
plan*. A board has been
one of the floating leaves, and a
six years of age has been
upon the board .—Pittsburg Dispit