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Sing Low Lullaby*
Nurlit is coming, baby dear,
Darkling shadows drawing near.
Mother holds you tight and warm,
^ 2 Mother’s arm* are baby’s chartu.
Strong and tender lull to sleep
•, As the shadows closer creep,
Sing low lullaby.
Now. as back and forth we go,
Rocking, rocking, to and fro,
Baby’s lids go up and down.
Soon she’ll be in Sleepy town.
Soft and still on mother’s breast,
t Sweet, my baby rest, rest!
Sing low lullaby.
Now the fringe is half-way down
Over eyes so bright and brown,
Sjiots of black and flecks of white,
Now a gleam of yellow light.
All the world’s in baby’s eyes,
Mother looks and looks, and sighs,
Sings low lullaby.
Deeply down in baby’s eyes
Again she looks, looks and sigh*.
She sees a sad face mirrored there.
A face that should be bright and fair
Pictured in so clear a lake,
.Smile! smile! for baby’s sake.
Sing low lullaby.
Only a little crescent light
Under eyes just now so br ght,
* - Mother takes one little peep
' \
Anu iiBus bat>y fast asleep.
Soon through sleet) smiles will gleam,
Angels come in baby’s dream.
Sing low lullaby.
Now their wings are rustling near,
Mother shuts her cy s to hear,
And her lids go up and down.
Mother’s going to Sleepy town.
And the angels standing by
Will sing for her a lullaby.
— [Hettie GarJnmn'» Atl.’ma Constitution.
MABEL’S HUSBAND.
“Of course. I shall never dare to
speak another word to her!” said Rob¬
ert Dale.
“But why not? Only toll me why
cot!”cried out little Fiorrie, climbing
up the beams of the barn loft, so that
her head should be just on a level with
that of her tall brother, and clasping
him around the neck with both arms.
Robert was a tall, handsome young
athlete, at that moment busy in mend¬
ing one of the cogs of a steam-plow
with deft and ready touch.
His dark brown hair hurg in heavy
masses over his broad forehead; his
hazel eyes were full of latent fire, and
there wus a world of character and
resolve in his mouth and chin. One
might easily excuse Fiorrie Dale for
being proud of such a brother.
“Don’t you see, Fiorrie?’ - 6aid the
young giant, gently putting away the
hands that interfered with the delicate
screw he held. “I never asked her to
be my wife while she was the poor
and dependent school-teacher here.
How can I have the face to do it now
that she has inherited a fortune?”
Fiorrie balanced herself on the
beam, her dimpled face looking out
from its frame work of hay; a speck¬
led lion came cackling from its nest
in the fragrant hay, and half a dozen
captive swallows flew back and forth
in the peak of the barn overhead.
“But you were just going to ask
her, Bob, you know you were!”
“Ah, but how is she to know it?”
“Why, by instinct, of course,” de¬
cided Fiorrie.
Dale shook his head, with rather a
end smile.
“No, mv little girl,” said he. “I do
„
not choose to be mistaken for one of
the great army of fortune-hunters*
I've lost my opportunity, and there’s
an end of it. It’s my own fault.”
Fiorrie burst into tears.
“Oh, Bob!” said she.
Robert Dale stroked down her sun¬
shiny head, not without a sparkle of
moisture in his own eyes, bat he
smiled a wan smile, nevertheless.
“I’ve often read that pride was a
sin,” sobbed Fiorrie, “but I never
comprehended it before. Oh, Bob, 1
could almost hate you, if 1 didn't love
you so dearly!”
And Fiorrie scrambled down from
her perch on the beam, and ran away,
with both hands clasped over her face.
Dale looked after her.
“Poor little darling!” he said to
himself. “It is but a scratch on the
surface of her tender young heart!
On mine it is a deep wound, seared in
with red-hot iron, God help me!”
It was one of those romances which
occur in real life oftener than one has
any idea of. Mabel Wynne wa« a
pretty young school-teacher in Ab¬
bott’s District, whose life of poverty
had suddenly been turned into riches
by the bequest of a distant and nearly-
forgotten relative. To Mabel herself
it seemed like a golden dream. JIow
often she had built castles in the air,
whereof the foundation was “If I were
rich!” And now tne dream had come
true: the pinnacles of the air-castles
were actually shining athwart the sky
of her life, heretofore such a cold and
m-otr ornonqp f
» *» T ’V vV *
“And now,” said Mabel to herself,
“I can fulfill all my heart s desires!”
She took counsel with no cne, unless
now ar.d then an hour with the gray-
haired old lawyer might come under
that head; she simply did as 6he
pleased.
“Ilev’ ye seen the new house that
Mabel Wynne is buildin’?” said one
neighbor to another. < * Ii’s a reg’lar
Aladdin's castle! With the trees all
cut away from the lake, and new
drives made through the woods, and
heathen statters set up here and there,
and a row o’ glass houses to raise
furrin plants and ripen grapes and
peaches before their time.”
“1 don’t approve of no such notions,’
solemnly answered the other. “To ray
mind, it's a clear settin’ o’ Providence
at defiance. Grapes in March! And
orange-trees a flowerin' in 1 His ’ere
climate, with the snow on the ground!
Mark my works, there won't no good
come of it!”
It was a bright September evening
when Mabel Wynne stopped at the old
Dale farm-house.
Fiorrie rushed to meet her, and
| S merable. reelcd ho1 ’ " ith hu K 8 »" d kUses
“Dear, dear May!” she said. “Why
haven’t you been to see us before?”
“Why haven't you been to see me?”
retorted Mabel, with the piquant, off¬
hand manner which was*one of her
greatest charms. “That is the ques¬
tion. I should think.”
Florrie’s eye ashes drooped; in¬
stinctively she turned to her brother.
Robert advanced to her rescue, of¬
fering Miss Wynne his hand, with an
excellent imitation of composure.
“Because, Mabel, your time has
been so much occupied,” said he. “I
told Fiorrie that things were changed—
that you could hardly be expected to
have leisure to devote to her silly prat¬
tle.”
“How did you know that thing
were changed?” cried Mabel, with a
resentful flash in her violet-blue eyes.
“My own common sense told me
SO.”
“Was that the reason that you
haven’t been to see me?”
“One of the reasons.”
“Oh!” said Mabel, with an indes¬
cribable intonation of voice, and fixing
her eyes upon his with a sudden,
questioning glance, which he was but
too thankful to evade by looking an-
other way. “Tliat was all that you
cared for your old friend, eh?”
“If I could be of any real practical
use to my old friend—”
“You can,” briefly interrupted Miss
Wynne.
“Tell me how, and I shall be at your
service.”
Fiorrie put her arms around her
friend’s neck, whispering softly:
“This is like old times, May!”
“And I shall want Fiorrie, too,’
added Mabel, “to help eke out ray
own inexperience. A man’s judgment
and a woman’s taste! May 1 count on
both of you?”
“On me, certainly,” said Robert
Dale.
“You might know that I would be
ready to help you!” cried Fiorrie, al¬
most inclined to be aggrieved.
“Then, will you both come up to
‘The Glen’ tomorrow at 10 o’clock?”
“That’s the name of your new fairy
palace?”
* • Didn’t you know it?”
Robert smiled.
“I dou’t ask mauy questions,” said
lie.
“Y'es. It is called ‘The Glen,”’ she
answered.
Mabel Wynne stayed, and spent the
evening at the Dale farm-house. She
and Fiorrie sang sweet part-songs to
the accompaniment of Robert s violin:
they talked of old times and new; and
when at last Robert returned from
seeing Mabel home, Fiorrie clapped
her hands gleefully.
“Oh.liob,” she cried, “isn’t it nice
to have Mabel here once more?”
And Bob’s smile did her heart good.
The next day, however, things as¬
sumed a new aspect. Robert and
Fiorrie walked up through the woods
to the bcautifull new house, whose
stained-glass casement* commanded *o
rare a view of hillside, woodlaud, and
distant, winding river. Mabel was
s anding on the portico.
“Now come in,” she cried, radiant-
jv. “Walk through all the rooms
with me. Here is the library— 1 want
Roberts idea about fitting that up—
and here are the drawing rooms.
Fiorrie and I must decide about those;
for, to tell you the truth”—and she
collored pinker than the heart of a
rose—“I anx going to be married!”
Fiorrie started back, with a little
exclamation; Robert stood calm and
quiet as one of the marble statues in
the vestibule.
“Married!” Fiorrie cried—“and
not to confide in me! Oh, May!”
“Tell me,” said Mabel—“shall we
furnish the drawing-rooms in blue and
silver, or pink and gold? And shall
my rooms be the south ones, or the
suit looking out over the river? And
Bob must have the vestibules furnish¬
ed to suit a man's taste. I shouldn’t
like to have my husband criticise them
when he comes. Will you do this
for me, Bob, because of our old friend¬
ship? Oh, don’t look so solemnly at
me! I know I am asking a great deal,
but I thought I could depend on you.”
“You can,” he answered, quietly.
“Come out and look at the new sun¬
dial on the south lawn, added Mabel.
Fiorrie lms run up stairs to sea the
river from the observatory. We won f
wait for her; because, Bob, 1 want to
tell you a secret.”
“Would not your husband be tht
proper person to confide iu, May?” lie
asked.
“ In this ease, no, Bob!” she cried-
“Listen to me. 1 love this man with
all my soul—this husband that is to be
—and he loves me.”
“Naturally,” observed Robert, set¬
ting his teeth.
“But he does not dare to tell me so
He thinks, don’t you see, that 1 am an
heiress. Well, so I am; but I am a
woman, nevertheless, and I love him!
Is my wretched money to part us! If
so, 1 will fling it all into the ocean,
and begin hfc anew as a beggar-girl.
Now, Bob, what shall I do? It is for
this that I have sent for you to come
here. Answer me, quickly!”
“Tell him all,” said Robert, huskily.
“For God’s sake uo not break his heart
for so trifling a cause as this!”
Mabel’s cheeks crimsoned, her eyes
fell to the ground.
“1 have told him,” she murmured,
“within this hour. Oh, Robert, Rob¬
ert! have I said too much?”
“MyMay, my own darling!” cried
Dale. “And to think that this miser¬
able, false pride of mine failed to
measure the nobility of your virtue!”
When Fiorrie came down from the
observatory to the marble sun-dial,
where the minutes were measured off
by sunshine—ah, how appropriate it
seemed just now, this division of time!
—Bob and Mabel were sitting side by
side cm a rustic bench, and there was
something in their faces that betrayed
the truth at once.
Mabel’s lips dimpled into a soft, shy
smile. Bob drew Fiorrie toward him
at once.
“You have discovered our secret,
little sister,” said he.
Fiorrie uttered a cry of joy.
“Oh, May!" she said, “is it Bob?”
“Could it be any one else than Bob?”
Mabel whispered, her sweet eyes full
of loving light.
And then Fiorrie, the mendacious
little gipsy, declared that she had
known it all along. It wasn’t a bit of
a surprise to her. Everybody had
seen it but Bob; and Love was pro¬
verbially blind. — [Saturday Night.
What an Egg Is.
The white of an egg is almost pure
albumen and water, and the yolk,
which is the richer part, albumen with
particles of oil and a small amount of
salts. Albumen exists in the blood
in the proportion of seventy-five parts
to one thousand. To supply this al¬
bumen in the body it is necessary to
use aliments that contain it. That
group of food of which eggs are first
an j foremost are called albuminoids,
an( j a characteristic common to all is
that they contain nitrogen, an impor¬
tant element to the body. The pure
nutriment in an egg is one-third of its
entire bulk, while that in beef is only
one-fourth aud of oysters ouc-eighth
their respective bulks.
Fond mother—I wonder what baby
is thinking of! Fond father—He is
not thinking; he is listening to hear if
his first tooth is coming.
LUNGS OF CONGRES. cyn
-
HOW THE HOUSE IS SUPPLIED
WITH TEMPERED AIR.
It is Hard to Suit the Wants of Aii the
Members.
The lung power of congress counts
for something in legislation. L ncle
Sam spends a deal of money to keep
the organs of respiration in order for
his statesmen, But even with an art-
jflcial breathing apparatus it is not al¬
ways easy to satisfy the men who
make up congress. The air is pumped
into their Jungs too fast or too slow;
they are given too much or too little;
it is too hot or too cold; there is al-
WUVS bOIiiClllIIIU * t * A w—1 rt • 1^ *^r IV 1 i Ci
IU CUUipjaiu KJJ.J
ordinary mortals are content to do
their own breathing!
The two mighty lungs of Congress
arc*situated down in the lowest bowels
of the Capitol. They are run by steam
and ch aw air thro lgh towers fifty feet
high from a duct two or three hundred
yards away. The snows of winter,
the balmy air of spring and the sultry
summer air are breathed through these
mighty lungs with the changing sea¬
sons. The first swallow, who does not
make spring, is sucked into the great
funnel if he Hies too close to its top,
and he might find himself suddenly
blown into the halls of Congress if
there were not screens to check his
course. Many chimney swallows se¬
lecting this high tower as a suitable
place to build their nests, have circled
around the opening and been dfTTT.t'O
their death. Sparrows, black birds,
robbins, larks, have been breathed into
the Capitol though they have never
gone so far as to be pumped into the
lungs of the statesmen.
Only air, pure air, heated, moistened
and prepared for breathing purposes,
is forced into their lungs. Two or
three men in the engine rooms on
either side of the Capitol watch the
temperature and respiration of Con¬
gress. The aim is to give every man
in the hall and the women and children
in thd galleries each 47 cubic feet of
air in a minute, and to keep their
tempera ure uniformly at 71. Usually
about 68,200 cubic feet of air is
pumped into the House of Representa¬
tives each minute. The air comes in
through a clean whitewashed duct, is
run over a little pool of fresh water,
and in cold weather is run through
coils of steam pipes to give it the
proper temperature. An entire fresh
supply of air is put through the house
every seven minutes ordinarily, and
sometimes it is all changed in four
minutes.
An incubator does not have to he
watched with greater care than has to
be bestowed upon the house by the
pure air man. At his right is an elec¬
tric thermometer, which conveys to
him in the under-ground depths a cor¬
rect record of the temperature in the
hall of the house; at his left is a gauge
which tells him how much fresh air
1 lac statesmen have to breath; ami near
lum is an automatic damper, which
turns off the heat when it gets too great,
It is not an easy thing to send air
into the House that will suit everyone.
Some of the hot-blooded men want a
very low temperature and a constant
draught blowing about their ankles.
Others will sit in a toasting heat with
their coat collars turned up, aud will
complain of a breath of air coining
through the ventilators. It is found
by averaging all complaints that a
temperature of 71 degrees, with 88,-
200 cubic feet of air a minute, is most
satisfactory.— [Commercial Advertiser.
Armed for the Fray.
“Then, mv dear, you have really
made up your miml to marry a wid¬
ower?” t
“Certainly.”
“And does he never talk to you
about his first wife?”
i * I should like him to try. If he
did, I should at once begin to tell him
about my three husbands in the regu¬
lar order of my acquaintance with
them.”
Brought to Terms.
Mrs. Brown- -Johnnie wou’dn’t say
anything when I accused him of break¬
ing the window, so 1 gave him a good
whipping.
Brown—What effect did it have on
him?
Mrs. Brown—A telling effect.—
[Lippincott.
Oak is Very Scarce.
Dry oak lumber of good quality fe
at a premium, and the dealer who
a large stock on hand is in the p 0 ^
sion of a bonanza which any ioc-iui*
might envy. There is a big S [ lorta £1 ,
in the market and the shortage j,
,
coming more pronounced ever/ <] av
The oak cut last year was an av eragw
one; the demand and consumptiontlj tjJ
past year have been far above
normal. Oak is the most popu' iv f,,.
niture wood and enormous quantity
of it have been used for this purposd
the factories in Grand Rapids. Mi,y j
alone getting away with bet ween
000,000 and 40,000,000 feet, with
the other factories in the country h a J
at work iu the same direction.
Hardwood finishes for house intr.l
riors have become more popular n J
past year than ever before and oa'< J
used moie than any other material.] rea>y|
The demand for oak has in
during the year to such an extent thj
an average cut of logs will hard.;] <ei,:|
supply the trade, hence the pr
shortage. The prices have advent;] 5;.l
within the past three months tYea
and $18 for straight sawed oak to sup] v-:|
and §26, and dealers who have i
ply on hand do not like to let go evtj
at the tigures quoted. Further seasoa] a,j.|
vances are expected before the
closes.
The shortage in the supply ainltlJ
advanced prices largely increase tiJ
cost of furniture, especially the companj cheap.]
er grades. One furnilure
has announced an advance in nri ■« j i|
ten per cent, and others are prcp irii
to liable do likewise. be embarrassing The stringency is of ski] «|
to to s<mie t
manufacturers, especially those wj,J
have been carrying light stocks, ltd
difficult to get good lumber even at t »l
advanced prices, and without the lui,
ber tlie wheels can’t go round.
If the present increased demai:d
for oak continues oak will be as costly
as mahogany. Last winter was open,
and logging operations were cotuiu cl
under difficulties. The hardwood I»g
crop was smaller than for years past.
The visible supply of oak for next
season’s consumption is much below
the average. A genuine famine is an¬
ticipated, with prices far up.— ; ilia*
go llerald.
Exterminating tlie llbon.
As the Indians hunted them,
of bison would probably have
forever, writes Dr. Carver, but a
18(16 the white men turned their
tion to the shaggy monster* of
plains. Large eastern firms
parties, and paid the shooter §2.70
each bison whore he lay dead on
plains. Very soon afterward* I went
to southern Nebraska, and became
professional hunter. The bi*oa
sisted of two large division*, the
living in the south and the other in
north. Their only common »
ground was along the
River and its branches in
The Indians were well aware of
fact, and hostile tribes have had
a fight for that territory. It was
until 1878 that the government nu;
end to this by sending the
south and the Sioux to their
reservation.
Like a herd of cattle, the bison art]
always on the go, ami are apt to wa*
out of rifle range in a short time. 1°
moving, however, they always have*
leader, and the trick was to kill a,1 v
-
one that started to lead the others off-
By thus killing the leaders we could
often shoot for an hour from behind
one clump of grass, and when *bey
had moved from out of range 6 ;C
skinners would come up, cut the hi<‘ e
in the ordinary way for skinning. r * e
the animal's h°ad to a stake. Hitch s
team of horses to the hide ami jerk 8
off. No one will ever know wl at ;1! "
mense numbers of bisons were eU
by these hide hunters, but to mv ‘ ,cr '
tain knowledge 8,000,000 hides " c! ®
shipped from the banks of the Frem-k*
man River in one winter, At the
close of thai winter a man could
along the bank of the Frenchman for
50 miles by simply jumping from t!,e
carcass of one bison to another, \o<v
a few old circus animals represent tl-*
great herds.
Contempt of Court. f*
“You are lined $10,” cried the r
girl as the old gentleman poked i** 5
head in the room where she u us et> ter '
taining her best beau.
“What for?” inquired pabr.
“Contempt of court, of course,”