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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 * *?