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ii I-0&SO M --y IM a.
What pipes the meriy robin
To yorvlor glistening blue*
What sings the brook of silver
The daisied valley through?
What hums the breaze so cheery?
But this one sweet refrain:
“Oh. days so bright!
Oh, rare delight!”
’Tis blossom-time again!” ,
In moEning’s dew and sunshine
The orchard** trees, a-row,
JSeemed tangled in a cloudlet
Of fragrant, rosysnow.
Apd every breeze that passes
Shakes out a jeweled rain;
While bird* a-wing
Are carolling:
“ ! Tis blossom time aga a!”
Bright gold of dandelions,
Sew grass-blades, twinkling ghj,
Lithe wayside vines, dew-erystaled,
Wee, snowy lambs at play,
Soft echoes from far uplands
Speak but one language plain:
“Oh. days so dear
Of all the year,
,
’Tis blossom-time.”
My heart sings with the robin,
The silver flashing rill,
Ami carols With the breezes
In joy's delie ous thrill.
With flower#and grass and lambkins
It joins the glad refrain:
“Oh, fairest daysl
Oh, rarest days!
„’Us'blossom-time again!”
— Youth's Banner.
THE FOUNTAIN NYMPH.
Mrs. El wood had made up her mind.
Her Jack must come back from Europe
and marry Alice Moore. She had the
country place all put in order, as she de¬
cided that the grottoes, fountains and
shady walks were just the places for
love-making. But one day she spied a
pretty young girl standing by one of the
fountains and catching the bright drops
in two slender hands. *
“Where did that fountain nymph
come from?” she asked the old gardener,
The old man looked perplexed.
“OhI” he exclaimed, brightening, as
he divined her meaning. “It’s old
Granny Burnton’s granddaughter, ma’am.
Granny died a .spell back, an’ afore she
gin up the ghost she sent for this girl,
an’ gin her the old homestead. She's
mild as a lamb, an’ lonesome like, for
there a’n't nobody but old Sally to keep
her company. I’ve seen her set for
hours starin’ out at the bay. She seems
to hanker arter the place here, an’ I told
her to come as often as she wants to.
Though now there’s goin’ to be com-
pnny —”
“Don’t disturb her, Brown; let her
come whenever she likes. She’s a lady¬
like-looking girl, and will not intrude
upon our guests. Do you know her
name?”
t “It’s Jul’et, ma’am—Jul’et Burnton.”
Mrs. Elwood was greatly interested.
Upon the following day she visited the
grotto, and peeping furiously through
thq vine, she saw the girl standing be¬
side the fountain and gazrng pensively
within its depths. She had a childish
lace, yet stamped with a sorrow young
faces seldom wear. Again Mrs. Elwood
stole away, she would not speak lest
she.might frighten the girt from coming
again. She went in and wrote her hus¬
band:
^ “Bayshore is looking more romantic
than ever. The place is overgrown with
vines, which Brown hesitates to trim,
knowing my weakness for them. But
one of the greatest ornaments to the
grounds is a gazelle-eyed fountain-
nymph; a living, breathing nymph, who
spends her hours sighing over the foun¬
tain in the grotto.”
Jack in the tneanfme had fallen in
love Mrs Raymond one of the wfilv eav
1 ‘nlonv in Rnmt>' pkrties, wplpnmpH him
to her musical and one day.when
the hired musician failed she sent him
to seek an old maestro who lived up near
the roof in fhp nld ivilnpp
Wreathing w his handsome face in a ‘ fas-
tfinating smile, Jack tapped upon the
door at the head of the last flight of
stairs, but was somewhat disconcerted, a
moment later, to find himself face to face
with an ugly Italian servant or duenna,
who demanded to know his errand. He
9S£t*.« Innnirpd fnr W m»ctpr and was mmfflr
She was about to close the door in his
face but the si"ht of naufe a <r 0 ld coin in hie
band caused her to ‘ She took it
eagerly, and waited while Jack pro .
pounded a series of questions in the worst
Italian he could call to raind-and that
is saying a great deal, She turned
within.
“Giuiietta!” she called.
“What is it, Annita?” asked a clear
voice within, which sounded like the
voice of a child.
And then, behind the crone's shoulder,
appeared a face Jack voted the fairest he
had ever seen. It was more delicate
than the faces of Italian women, or so he
thought. It was a pale, creamy olive in
tint; the features were tairly regular, the
eyes dreamy, dark and large, the lashes,
the pretty arched brows, and the heavy
hair were a rich bronze-brown; the red
curved mouth was fresh and sweet. As
she lifted her eyes shyly and met Jack's ad-
miring gaze her creamy complexion grew
suddenly rosy with the blush that over-
spread her face. As he addressed her in
clumsy Italian an amused smile curved
the corners of her mouth and disclosed
• deep dimple in either che k.
“Suppose we converse in English,”
rite said, speaking the language with a
pure accent, and then both laughed
merrily.
“How could I know you speak Eng-
lish?” he asked, delighted with the dis¬
covery.
He presented his card and made known
his errand. She was quite certain her
father-would oblige Mrs. Rapnond,as he
played both the piano and violin. Jack
thought either would do, since it was not
possible for the signor to play both at
once. Perhaps Miss-”
“I am Giuiietta Scaramella,” she said,
with a certain dignity that was very be-
coming. “I do play accompaniments to
nearly all papa’s violin music, but never
in public. Papa does not allow that.”
“Pardon me,” Jack interposed. “I
meant to suggest that Mrs. Raymond will
be delighted with your presence as a
guest, to-night. You danee, do vou
not?”
“I do, indeed, for papa has given
dancing lessons, and I learned them.
But there is still a difficulty about my
going down. I do not know Mrs. Ray¬
mond, and I am quite unknown to her.”
“But that may be easily remedied,”
returned Jack.
She bowed, but did not answer. He
lingered, unwilling to go.
“I cannot invite you to enter,” she
said, at length, “because papa is ab-
sent.”
Then Jack, feeling he was dismissed,
bowed, murmured an apqlogy and went
down to urge Mrs. Raymond to call upon
the signor and invite his daughter to come
down, with him that evening.
Mrs.,Raymond assented, for she liked
Jack. Aside from his being personally
agreeable and obliging, he had plenty of
money and was not averse to spending it.
She wished him to remain in Rome dur-
ing her own stay there, and if a fair girl
in the house would serve as an anchor
for a few week* there was no reason why
the pretty toy should be denied him.
It.was not denied him; for when the
si S nor appeared, violin in hand, in Mrs.
Raymond’s drawing room that evening,
bis daughter accompanied him. He
played as Giuiietta danced, divinely; sel-
dom spring except when addressed,
and then his grave, dark face lifted its
grave, dark eyes and looked his ques-
tinner through and through, though not
nnkindly.
From the moment luck first met Giu¬
iietta his eyes, voice and manner spoke
love to her continually, and she accepted
it, though shyly. She was unlike any
other girl he had ever known; even her
dress was in a style especially her own.
It was usually white, of simple material
and fashion, and she always wore over it
a low, sleeveless bodice of some bright-
hued silk. She seemed as guileless as her
namesake, of Shakespeare's fancy, yet
she was always hedged about with her
father’s presence. For, either because
his evening engagements furnished ample
means for his support, or because he felt
his motherless child needed more than
ever his protecting care, he gave up go¬
ing out to attend his pupils altogether.
Jack was allowed to make love in a quiet
way to Giuiietta, but it must be done
when the grave eyes of the signor could
look him through and through at will.
Ere two months had passed the little
Bohemian colony broke up and scattered.
Mrs. Raymond was obliged to leave, and
those who had not gene before her now
prepared for flight. Jack dared not
tarry, though he wished it; for if his
father heard he had lost his head to a
pretty Italian girl, he would be recalled
at once. Mr. Elwood disliked Italians.
“Your stay has been pleasant to me,”
said the signor to Jack at the close of
their last evening, as he and Giuiietta
were preparing to leave the drawing¬
room; “yet I am glad you are going,”
with a smile that softened his words.
There was no mistaking the regret in
Jack’s face as he bowed gravely in an¬
swer.
“I am very sorry to go,” „ he , said. “I
shall see you both to-morrow and bid you
both g°od-by,” and his eyes were upon
Giulietta's face as he spoke.
do see how 1 c ‘ an good-by
to you all,” she answered, her sad eyes
droo P in g !l little. “I could never bear
to say good-by.” do now!”
“ You cannot dread it as I
began Jack, impetuously; but with a
courtly bow to all the signor drew his
daughter away. neither appeared; and
In the morning
in S °“ 1; surprise, as the hour of her de-
*■■*«*« near. Mr, Raymond scut to
ask L heir Presence._____
‘'The maestro and Giuiietta have gone
out >” the servaut said; “but the sigaor
left a note for any one who called ”
“Where have they gone?” cried Jack;
, s ' ie did not know, and all the gold
he had at hand could not make her
kD 'ri!’
lne note read. a.
“We And addio too sad a word to say, so
will write it instead papa and I. .
“Giulietta.”
“A strange pair,” said Mrs. Raymond,
her face scarcely less sad than Jack’s,
“The girl has w'on your heart, impetuous
boy; yet I cannot blame you, for the
silent, handsome signor has almost won
mine.”
Jack left Rome, and for sometime was
like “a thistle plume upon the changing
windbut midwinter found him knock-
ing again at the highest door under the
old palace roof, and when admitted, his
first act was to ask the signor for his
daughter’s hand in marriage,
“For I love you, I love you, dear!’’ he
said to Giuiietta; ••and I cannot live with-
out you.” wife?” the
“But are you free to seek a
signor asked,while Giuiietta blushed and
crew Dale alternately with the sudden-
ness of Jack’s declaration. “If your
parents do not approve the act, have you
the means to support a wife?”
“They may not at first approve,” said
•Jack frankly, “but I am sure they will
when they see her. I prefer poverty with
Giuiietta to affluence without her, if she
loves me enough to give herself to me
under those conditions, I shall not be
afraid to work for her sake, and I prom-
iso to care for her as tenderly as you have
done.”
“Bravely said,” the signor answered.
“When her mother consented to share
rn y l°t in life she risked far more. ‘I
have counted the cost,’ she said to me as
you speak to me to-day.”
The signor’s face was very white.
“You are ill,” cried Jack, and Giuii¬
etta sprang for the wine.
He swallowed it with an impatient
gesture, as if swallowing the pain, too.
“This is one reason I am content to
" !vc my child to you. I shall not be
with her long. But I have other reasons.
She loves you—you love her—and I have
faith in you.”
.Jack would have an early marriage,
and the signor ditl not oppose it. The
young pair was married and settled down
in the lodging Mrs. Raymond had occu-
pied. Jack was so happy he put off writ-
ing borne. Then the signor grew ill and
he was summoned to Baden to meet
friends of his father on business. He was
detained, and when he hastened back his
wife was gone. They told him her father
had died and she had gone to live with
friends. That was all he could learn.
She had left a letter,but it had been mis-
laid and could not be found. He was al-
most wild. He*had received no letters
nnd he knew how childlike and trusting
she was. He searched until he received
repeated letters calling him home,
He set out and reached Bayshore in
midsummer. He .found a gay company
assembled there, and it did not take two
days for all to see how depressed he was.
“What is it, Jack?” his mother asked;
“are you in debt? Surely that need not
trouble you.”
if “I am in debt,” he cried, “but you
cannot pay it for me, mother. I will tell
you all soon.”
He rushed out of the house. “She is
somewhere in the world,” he thought;
“but I have not the slightest clew to fol¬
low. Great heavens! and I do not know
if she is alive or dead. When I think of
all she may have to bear, poverty, huu-
ger, disgrace, I am ready to go mad.”
Mrs. Elwood gave a dance that night,
Friends from a seaside resort near Bay-
shore were invited. The moon was lull
and, as if playing at hide-and-seek, she
lifted her round face above the horizon
just as the sun sank behind the hills in
the west. It was nearly time for the
guests to arrive when Mr. Elwood, who
after dressing had gone out on one of the
terraces, returned and hurriedly called
his wife.
‘.‘Come with me,” he said; “Jack has
either gone mad or the secret of his
melancholy is about to be revealed.”
She followed quickly and saw her foun¬
tain nymph leaning against the railing—
while Jack stretched out his arms to her
with the cry, “My wife—my wife.”
In a moment she was in his arms, and
he was kissing, caressing and questioning
her all in one breath.
“Dear Jack, wait!” she cried, “the
whole world will hear you.”
“Dear child, I want it to hear me,” he
cried. “Why, why did you go away?
AVhv did you not wait for me?”
“Poor papa died,” she faltered, “and
then Annita said there w r as no more
money.”
“The thief! She robbed you, my
darling.”
“And I had to give up our rooms,and
:>
“I’m listening, dear.'*
“They said you would never come
back.”
“Fiends; he cried, , under , ... his breath. ,,
“Then grandma sent me money to
come here for papa wrote to her before
he died. He was so afraid of leaving
me alone, and the old house behind the
cedars was my grandmother s. I wrote
al1 before I came away and left the
letter for you. I thought you would
come here at once, and then—and then
1 heard from Brown you were coming—
to marry some one else.”
While he was explaining to her what
a mistake Brown had made, Mr. Elwood
and his wile moved silently away and
«bet-who were aU the world to each
other were left alone.
-—--
An Extensive Bed of Glass Saud.
Near Fort Spokane, ^ some twenty-five \
miles dowQ riv£r trom g ane
Fall Washington? < exteneive bed of
% n
glasg sand hns een discovered . It is a
formation, entirely unlike
on ji nar y i oose saQ d, and it is so compact
that it must be crushed by machinery
before it can be used. Samples sent east.
have been found to produce the best of
glass. It is as white as salt, which it re¬
sembles in appearance. Used instead of
common sand in mortar for inside finish-
ing work it makes a beautiful wall at an
expense hardly exceeding one-third that
of the ordinary finishing coat. In the
vicinity of this sand bed there is fine
marble and a superior quality of potter's
clay. Steps are being taken for the
organization of a company in Spokane
Falls for the purchase and development
of these minerals. — West Shore.
An ocean steamer has been projected
which, it is claimed, will cross the At-
lantic between Queenstown and Sandy
Hook is about three days and thirteen
hours, averaging a speed of twenty- 09 ^to
thirtv-four knots an hour.
A DOLLAR BILL.
PROCESSES IN THE MAKING OB
PAPER MONEY.
Engraving the Plates—Printing aftd
Numbering Notes—Precautions
Against Counterfeiting End
in the Pulp Kettle.
What volumes of history one of Uncle
Sam's greenbacks could relate if it only
had the power of speech!
Whether their life be long or short, in
the interval that elapses from the moment
that they are turned out fresh, crisp and
bright from the Government presses,
until they straggle back so dirty and
mutilated that even their denominations
are scarcely decipherable, they have
passed through hundreds, perhaps thou¬
sands of hands, figured in innumerable
transactions, been thumbed by million¬
aires and hod-carriers—in a word, have
played an active part in busy human life.
There is much of interest, however, to
be told about them before they are sent
out on their career of usefulness.
=3 pl m |||L.
JEM (•«
wr
rt 1 yrol F--------- i*
STACERATOR (fi)70,000 ON THE TABLE).
Take the work in the engraving divi¬
sion of the Government Bureau of En¬
graving and Printing, for instance, as
this is where the manufacture of paper
money begins. No one engraver ever cuts
the entire plate from which a bank note
is printed. For instance; one man en¬
graves the portrait, another does the let¬
tering of the inscription; a third the
counters that indicate the denomination
of the note; another a section of the or¬
namental border, for this is never en¬
graved in full; still another is engaged
on the seal, and finally the work of all
must be carefully scrutinized and the fin¬
ishing touches added before the plate can
be sent to the printer.
The reason why so much care is neces¬
sary is to guard against counterfeiting,for
the more perfect the plate is in every
part, the more difficult it is for one or any
number of persons to imitate it.
It sometimes takes the engraver six
weeks to finish up a portrait, and after
that he must put in the background,
which consists of a ciose network of the
finest spider web lines, made by a ruling
machine with a diamond point.
wm -.ZD
ii i:
m
£
<■
HAND PRINTING PRESS.
This may be seen on the dollar certifi-
cate bearing the head of Martha Wash-
ington. On the same bill it will be ob-
served that the counter on the right hand
side, the centre piece containing the
words “One silver dollar,” and the
counters and border around the centre
piece on the back> are composed of pe-
culiarlv curved lines,
These machines are very expensive,
and are very complicated in their con-
struction. They work slowly, but with
great exactness, and it is Impossible fora
counterfeiter to reproduce the lines ex-
.cUy engraved
All the rest of the plate is by
. hand. After the plate for a special
series of notes is completed it is taken to
transfer press, where any number of
reproductions can.be made, which is ren-
d ^ d necessary in order to print the
notes m large quatrtdies.
-hi:'
MS
NUMBERING MACHINE.
This, however, is by no means a sim¬
ple operation. The different dies which
make up the complete plate must fret be
transferred to a cylindrical steel rol
separately. They must then be ! t- j 1
down, or “assembled” upon a sinrr] bed*
steel plate or bed-piece. Upon this
piece the various parts of the note a
,
pears in intaglio, from which the in> i
pression is transferred to steel rolls 0 f 1
proper width, which is usually sutfieiecr
to contain four notes. The" plates ar--
lettered from A. to D., and this ”
is ao
other check upon counterfeiting as thf
numbers must correspond to these letters Z
The last operation to which the p; at g
are subjected before they go to the print, I
ing room is the hardening process. This
is done in various ways by an application
of heat and chemicals. The plates ary
then cleaned, waxed and laid away till
they are needed by the printer.
Tlie paper used by the Treasury jjp.
partment for its bills and notes is manu¬
factured by a private concern, and upon
its delivery is counted twice and packed
away in sections of from four to forty
sheets after it has been damped.
Several different kind of presses are
used in the printing division. The old-
fashioned hand-plate and press and steam
presses of the latest most improved
patterns arc employed. Each press jj
provided with a register, which records ;
automatically every impression that j s
made.
Each impression calls for a sheet of \
paper; so that all the clerk end who makes j
his examination at the of the day
has to do is to see whether the number of
printed sheets returned correspond with
the number of the register. the printed This must
room through which sheet?
have to pass. Here the blue number?
and letters are stamped upon the notes,
in accordance with a system which ha? I
been devised in order to make it easier
for experts to detect spurious notes.
When it is considered how large i-
variety of bank notes, Treasury notes,
silver certificates, bends, revenue and
postage stamps are printed at the Govern¬
ment Bureau, it will at once be seen jf
how vast a magnitude the work of this
Department is.
It keeps hundreds of persons con¬
stantly employed, from artists and skilled
mechanics down to the girls who sort
over and counts the sheets of paper. In
1862 the Superintendent of the Bureau of
Engraving and Printing had only 'one
male and four female assistants. The
Department now employs more than one
thousand persons.
The face value of the securities printed
by the Bureau from July, 1869. to July,
1888, aggregated $13,108,606,634, apd
the amount previously produced $20,000,- would
probably bring the total up to
000,000.
When bank notes have outlived their
period of usefulness they are redeemed
ay the various sub-treasuries of the Gov-
irnment and sent back in bulk to the
Bureau of Engraving and Printing. They
ire then dumped into big cylinders as
large as locomotive boilers, which are
called macerators. Lime and soda ash ii
also correspond with the record ia the
wetting-room. i
These precautions were necessary to
prevent dishonesty, for otherwise it might
be easy for a printer to smuggle in a
blahk sheet of paper and fill it with im¬
pressions of $100 notes, and no one would j
be the wiser.
The numbering divisioa is the la*
then added and the cylinders put in mo¬
tion. When the mass has been reduced
to a pulp it is drawn off in semi-liquid
form, and pumped into the paper room,
where it is manufactured into thick sheets
of paper. Some of it is cast into vari¬
ous forms, including little statuettes,
which are sold by the Washington sta¬
tioners and fancy-store keepers to visitors
as mementos of the National Capital."
New York Press.
Mule ami Rider Disappeared-
The two lines were facing one another,
with only a short distance separating Con¬
them. A farmer rode into the
federate cainp'on a mule. Most of the
soldiers had been farmers and were gooii
judges of horseflesh, so that in conversa¬
tion with the old farmer the merits and
demerits of the mule came up naturally
for some discussion. It was a good mule,
they agreed with the farmer— “but. ad¬
ded the owner, “I’ve never seen another
man that could ride him.”
This remark brought on another dri-
cussion. Several of the soldier- protested
that they had never been thrown from a
mule, and were willing to bet that they
of the mo 1 ’
could ride this one. One
vociferous in praising his own horseman¬
ship was a commissary. He swore lie
could rale that mule, and finally i- wa!
decided to let him try. the
He had no sooner mounted than
mule began plunging viciously, and then
he ran around in a circle several time 5
at breakneck speed, the comnR ssar I
holding on for his life. break f°’
Suddenly that mule made a sawed an
the front. The commissary
shouted in vain. Every attempt Wf»
made to stop them, but the mule wj»
wild and the commissary knew that if i'-
once let loose he would have to be buried-
On like a tornado—and as straight *'
the crow flies—on past the Confederal
outposts and heading for the \anke ;
lines. They watched him until the mu {
was lost to sight.
That was the last seen of them, nor’mv
one word ever been beard from that <i*?
to this of the commissary »r the mule
Atlanta CousLiiuiton.
DOCBTFn..
“Do you think your father ! kes an
he inquired.
“Oh, yes,’* she answered. “He
was going to wait up to-night t ) it*
von * *?