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A SONG FOR WOMEN.
Within a dreary, narrow room,
That looks out upon a noisome street,
Half fainting with the stifling heat,
A starving girl works out her doom.
Yet not the les^ iu God's sweet air
The little birds .dng free of care,
And hawthorns blossom everywhere.
Swift oeaseless toll scarce wlnneth bread;
From early dawn till twilight falls,
Shut In by four dull, ugly walls,
The hours crawl round with murderous tread.
And all the while, in some still place,
Where Intertwining boughs embrace,
The blackbirds build, time flies apace.
With envv of the folk who die
Who may at last tbelr leisure take,
Whose longed-for sleep none roughly wake.
Tired hands the restless needle ply,
But far and wide In meadows green
The golden buttercups are seen,
And reddening sorrel nods between.
Too pure and proud to soil her soul
Or stoop to basely gotten gain,
By days of changeless want and pain
The seamstress earns a prisoner’s dole,
While in the peaceful fields the sheep
Fee a quiet, and through heaven’s blue deep
The silent cloud-wings stainless sweep.
And if she be alive or dead
That weary woman scarcely knows,
But back and forth her needle goes
In tune with throbbing heart and head.
Lo, where the leaning alders part,
White-bosomed swallows, blithe ofheart,
Above still waters skim and dart.
O God in Heaven! shall I, who share
That dying woman’s womanhood,
Taste all the summer’s bounteous good
Unburdened by her weight of care?
The whitened moon-daisies star the grass,
The lengthening shaodws o’er them pass,
The meadow pool Is smooth as glass.
A Leaf Out of Milady’s Life.
In an exquisitely appointed dress
ing room standing before her cheval
glass is a lady, viewing with careless
glance the perfect image the mirror
with truthful painting sends back, as
the maid b^nt on one knee fastens a
spray of flowers more securely on the
sweep of her mistress’s train.
“Well, Jeanette,” Milady says in
her soft voice. “Shall I do?”
The very air of the room seems to
eoho back the words in sheer mockery.
“Shall she do ?” Let us look into the
mirror and answer it for ourselves.
She is tall and slender, every curve—
for there are no angles —showing a
neat beauty in the lithe svelt figure,
•v^her shoulders smooth as polished
marble rise in their soft fairness from
the lightly fitting purple dress from
which they are separated by folds of
rich old lace whose yellowness makes
Madame seem almost fair. Tumbling
over her neck is a mass of wavy, curl
ing, dusky hair, that is only kept in
place by a few pearls, which are in
deed the only ornaments she wears.
Her eyes are oblong, liquid and
dreamy. Eyes that you find in a
seraglio but rarely elsewhere. The
tiny shell-like ears, the delicately
chiseled nostrils, the lovely mouth
that seems made only to be kissed,
might all belong to a Hebe, nay even
to a Venus, but none of them con
tained character; to find that you
must lo^ at the broad, low forehead,
with its straight pencilled brows, the
rather too heavy lower jaw and chin,
at the constant nervous action of the
small, well-shaped hands that betrays
her before she speaks. There lay the
signs telling too well their story,
and to a close observer showing
Madame’s traits as if they were writ
ten before, them and I fear if they were
they would have found more imper
fections there than in the picture like
face.
“Ah! Madame, you are perfect,”
the maid cries. Milady smiles, a slow
languid smile that lights up the vel
vety depths of her eyes before it
►jhes her lips, as turning she sinks
\o a low fanteuil before the fire.
“My.letters, Jeanette, and then tell
the musicians to play the waltz from
“Faust” as the opening danoe.”
The maid obeys and then silently
leaves the room.
“To-night he will return to me, he
will forgive all, I know, and the
strains of the first waltz I ever danced
with him shall speak to him before he
even sees me.” The smile has not left
\ heMlps and a happy contented look is
on her face as she carelessly opens her
letters and as carelessly reads and
oasts aside until one coroneted and
with a faint perfume still lingering
about it meets her hand.
i! from Lina,” she says pieas
king the seal she reads the
es:
dy Lina Chesterton
To the
Countess of Aryleton.
old Loys,
have such lots to tell you. I am
engaged, nay, more,before you get this
I shall be married ; now don’t scold
because I really could not tell you be
ne, as it has tjnly been settled a fe w
days, and Loys how shall I own it—
but I am so awfully in love with him,
I never thought I could like any one
as much—oh ! if you could only see
him, he is so tall and haudsome ; and
what a great silly you will think me
if I rattle on in this style. Howevtr,
even at the risk of those eyes of yours
fighting up with scorn at my rhapso
dies—you who have a heart as cold to
men as the snow on Mt. Blanc—I must
go on for I want you to know him as
I do, dear. Long ago, Loys, he loved
some one else, he told me all about it,
so frankly, the other day, loved her as
perhaps he may never love me, with
all the strength of his soul. Sbe must
have been so handsome; in your style ;
only more* beautiful, if possible, but
after winning his love it seems Marco—
he gave her that title as he did not
care to tell me her real name—although
she may have cared for him, her affec
tion was not strong enough for her to
overcome her fault of coquettry. This
habit or trait—for honestly I dare say
shemeautno harm—caused frequent
quarrels between, them and in her
wilfulness she would not listen to her
lover’s pleading. At last a very
wealthy nobleman came upon the
scene. The said gentleman was ex
cessively exclusive, and in fact a my-
sogenist. Learning this, Marco set
herself to work to subjugate his heart,
nothing would please her vanity but
that he must lay the offering of his
love at her feel. Guy forbade her to
speak to hiua and finally, finding re
monstrances or threats powerless, told
her to choose between them. The lady
in her haughtiness would not answer
him, and hot with anger and jealousy
he left London. Before quitting the
city he wrote telling Marco all he was
suffering and saying that if she would
write to him within a week to come
back he would come, but, if he did not,
hear he would conclude that ner love
had not been as great as his. She
never wrote. Guy came to Venice,
we met, my dear, it was the old story
of time and opportunity, not very
c imphmentary to me perhaps, but
eminently satisfactory. I am so happy
that I fairly tremble’ for fear my chat-
teaux will prove en Espagne and
crumble to ruins before my eyes- This
morning something odd occurred. We
were out on the porch when the Eng
lish mail airr/ed. There was nothing
for me, but one for Guy ; as he took it
I saw a look creep into his eyes I had
never seen there before, as a dull red
mounted his forehead. Quicker than
I can tell you the envelope was torn
off, and with eager glance he removed
the contents, as he read the color faded
from his face until he was ashen. The
note only contained a few lines, but
Gay read them over and over again
until they must have burned them
selves into his brain never to be erased,
then the paper dropped from his nerve-
lei s grasp and without a word he left
me. Was it dishonorable? I can’t
help it then ; I lifted that note and
read every word. It said : “My own
darling Garth, forgive my past pride
and waywardness in this acknowledge
ment of my love for you. Ah, I hun
ger so to see you again ; forgive me,
Garth, and come to me.” That was all,
no signature, but I knew it was from
Marco. Do you know, Loys, if I did
not know that you two were strangers
I would have said that the queer de
cided writing was in your hand.
Pshaw! I must stop now for my fiance,
Guy Garth, Lord Maylere, is calling
me. Good-bye old girl.”
• Lina.
The letter fluttered from the hand of
the Countess to the floor, the lovely
mobile face is drawn and white, it
seems as though she were suffering
pain so intense as to render her power
less of motion. In the drawing room
beneath, the sound of the waltz from
Faust is heard, the seductively sweet
strains rising with even cadence,
breaking the frightful stillness of the
room. Milady draws a long, deep
breath as shudderingly she lifts her
hands to her bosom and draws from
behind its screens of lace where it has
lain upon her breast, a diamond locket.
As she catches the scintallating
sparkle of the gems she siuileB a slow,
bitter smile, after a momentary hesita
tion she touches a spring and the case
flies open, disclosing a man’s face.
With a passionate gesture she lifts it to
her lips as though the painted ivory
could feel and respond to the caress.
“And I have lost you,” she moans
a world of agony in her voice. “Lost
you, and for what ?”
Again the music rises to her ear
with louder sound. Milady starts to
her feet.
“My God,” she cries, “will that
dance never cease. Oh, Garth,
Garth!”
she falls to the floor; a dark red stream
wells up to her lips and creeps on to
the carpet, staining it with her life’s
blood. It is thus her servants find her,*
her dead, cold hand grasping the por
trait of the only man she e ver loved,
while the ever sweet music of the
waltz from Faust sti’l lingers on the
air.
Sanitary.
Abraham A Santa Clara.
The popular actress of the Stadt
Theatre at Leipzig, Marie Knauff,
publishes in a German contemporary
some interesting recollect.ons of two
eminent poets and critics, the late
Franz von Dingelstedt and Dr. Carl
Gutzkow. Dingelstedt was manager
of the Weimar Theatre when she made
her appearance on that famous stage.
Her friend Dr. Gutzkow, gave her a
much needed-lecture on the faulty
pronunciation of many actresses and
advised her to spend some time in an
exercise, which seemed to her at first
to be childish, but the value of which
she afterward discovered —the proper
utterance of the vowels. He advised
her, with a view to obtain finish and
completeness in the utterance of A, t
devote half an hour every day to the
declamation of the name of the re
nowned Humorous preacher, “Abra
ham a Santa Clara.” She was told
to declaim this series of eight connect
ed A’s in a full tone and a half tone,
alternately.
She was lodging in the “Erbprinz”
Hotel. The first day on which she
began her curious exercise, she had
uttered “Abraham a Santa Clara”
about fifty times when she was startled
by a loud knocking at her door. The
Kellner appeared, and told her that
her neighbor in the next room had
been greatly alarmed. He was a sober
commercial traveller, and had rushed
down into the dining-room, where the
guests were seated at dinner, inform
ing them that the young actress had
gone stark mad, and was calling out
Abraham! Abraham!” Dingelstedt
was not present at dinner; but early
the next day he called upon her that
all the guests in the “Erbprinz” were
iu great anxiety about her, and he
wanted to know what moved her to
spend her time “in these eccentric
Biblical studies?” She gave him an
account of Dr. Gutzkow’s advice. The
manager observed that the practice
was go&d on the whole, but that it had
a certain danger about it. The piece
in which she was to appear was “Ka-
bale and Liebe,” and if she was not
very watchful over herself, she would
be surprised when upon the stage
with calling out “Abraham ! ” instead
of “Ferdinand! ”
Notes and Queries.
• Stipulation.
Canon Farrar (Language and Lan
guages, p. 204) observes: “How often
do people when they ‘make a stipula
tion’ recall the fact that th9 origin of
the expression is a custom, dead for
centuries, of giving a straw [stipula]
in sign of a completed bargain?” In
the manor of Winterirgham, North
Lincolnshire, this custom, far from
being dead, obtains at the present
time. A straw is always inserted “ac
cording to the cusMrn of the manor,”
in the top of every surrender (a paper
document) >f copyhold lands there;
and the absence of this straw would
render the whole transaction null and
void.
A copy of the first edition of Mon
taigne’s Essays (two volumes, 1580)
recently came into the hands of M.
Emile Lalanne, a learned gentleman
of Bordeaux, who has found in It
large number of MS. notes identical
with the corrections carried in out the
second edition (1582). From an ex
amination of the hand-writing, and
from other significant circumstances,
it would appear almost certain that
these are the actual alterations made
for the press by Montaigne himself,
who was at the time Mayor of Bor
deaux. M. Lalanne has generously
offered to present the book to the pub
lic library of that town.
Five thousand Babylonian tablets
(many of them in an excellent state
of preservation), discovered by Mr
Rassam in the mounds of Abu-Habba
are on their way to the British Muse
um. Abu-Habba, is the site of Sip
para, the Sepharvaim of the Old Tes
tament. It is uot impossible that this
find represents the library of Sargon
I., whose date is commonly given as
2,000 b. e.
Ckoup.—There are an innumerable
number of receipts floating around the
papers, and as some of them may be
useful we make it a point to publish
the best of them. The following is an
other remedy for the croup. It is said
that croup can be curtd in one minute.
The remedy is simply alum. Take a
knife or graier, and shave or grate off
in small particles about a teaspoonful
of alum; mix it with about twice its
quantity of sugar, and administer as
quickly as possinle.
Fresh Air as Good Exercise.—
The want of sedentary men is air
rather than exercise. The evil is not
done to the constitution by sitting so
much as by sitting in stuffy rooms.
An hour a day in a garden would
benefit them as much as - would a se
vere country walk. An hour passed
in strolling in the air, for mental fa
tigue, is better than an hour’s strong
exerel se; while an hour of close mental
application in a stuffy, over-heated
room, perhaps full of the fumes of gas,
will “take it out of you” more than a
whole day of the same strenuous work
in a room with open windows, or with
free ventilation, or so large that the
air is not perceptibly affected by those
who breathe it.
Hot Mil,k as a Restorative —
Milk thafiis heated to much above 100
degrees Fahrenheit loses for the time
a degtee of its sweetness and its den
sity ; but no one fatigued by over-ex
ertion of body and mind, who has
ever experienced the reviving influ
ence of a tumbler of this beverage,
beaten as hot as it can be sipped, will
willingly forego a resort to it because
of its having been rendered somewhat
less acceptable to the palate. The
promptness with which its cordial in
fluence is felt is indeed surprising.
Some portions of it seem digested and
appropriated almost immediately, and
many who fancy they need alcholic
stimulants when exhausted by labor
of brain or body will find this simple
draught an equivalent that shall be
abundantly satisfying and more en
during in its effects.
A Few Sanitary Errors.—To
labor whep you know you are not in
a fit condition to do so. To think the
more a person eats the healthier and
stronger be will become. To go to
bed at midnight and rise at daybreak,
and imagine that every hour taken
from sleep is an hour gained. To im
agine that if a little work or exercise is
good, violent or prolonged exercise is
better. To conclude that the smallest
room in the house is large enough to
sleep in. To eat as if you on y had a
minute to finish the meal in, or to eat
without an appetite, or to continue al
ter it has been satisfied^merely to sat
isfy the taste. To believe that chil
dren can do as much work as grown
people, and that the more hours they
study the more they learn. To imag
ine that whatever remedy cau»es one
to feel immediately better (asalcohohc
stimulants) is good for the system,
without regard to the ulterior effects
To take off'proper clothing out of sea
son, simply because you have necome
heated. To sleep exposed to a direct
draught iu any season. To eat a hearty
supper at the expense of a whole night
of disturbed sleep, and weary waking
in the morning.
increased by immigration and the
natural increase of population, to the
exteut of nearly two million more
mouths to feed thau eighteen months
ago. Turning now to Europe, it is
tolerably certain that the grain crops
of Great Britain and France will be
below an average this year, and also
that some of the other countries which
have supplied Western Europe with
at least a part of their imports of food
will not be able to give them much cur
ing the next twelve months. Australia,
on account of the great drouth which
has prevailed there, and Egypt, on ac
count of the disorganization of indus
try by the war, will not furnish their
usual supplies. Food therefore is
likely to continue comparatively high
for the next year. The situation affects
the labor market also. Men work
that they may live and when food ad
vances their wages must also or they
starve. We may, if the situation ex
pected is realized, prepare for an in
crease in the agitation over wages, and
strikes and lockouts will be common.
The rulers of States and cities will
have to be exceedingly circumspect to
prevent trouble with the de nagogues
who jump into every labor agitation.
The Queen of Roumania’s
“ Thoughts.”
A registered ease passed through the
Ne# York Post Office on Monday
night from Philadelphia addressed to
the Amsterdamohe Bank, Amsterdam
Holland, on which were 142 90-oent
Her slight form sways for an instant j and two 10-oent stamps, makin the
to and fro and then with a dull thud 1 postage $128.
The Food and Labor Market.
A variety of circumstances seems to
point to the conclusion that the next
twelve months will be an era of com
paratively high prices. Notwithstand
ing that abundant crops of hay, oats,
and wheat, and at least an average one
of corn, are now assured, food is likely
to continue as compared with the
average of the past years. The partial
failure of the wheat, corn and grass
crops of last year, together with the
severity of the preceding winter, so
diminished the reserves and sources
of supply of all human food in the
form of breadstuff's and meats that it
will take a good while to restore the
stocks of these things to the level of
eighteen months ago, even in this
country, to say nothing about the ne
cessities of Europe. The wheat from
the new crop has been coming into
the market now tor nearly a month
and yet the the visible supply of wheat
as shown by the stocks in store, at the
twenty principal oities of the United
States, has diminished each week,
until on July 15th it was only 8,947,-
865 bushels against 10,665,446 on June
24th, and 14,823,392 on July 16th, 1831.
Of oorn there was, on July 15'h, a
total visible supply of only 6,000,134
bushels against 9,385,100 on June 17th,
and 15,979,104 on July 16th, 1881, and
of oats only 1,812 849 against 1,978,975
on July 17th. Tue demand for con
sumption in this country has also been
From selfishness men make severer
laws for women than for themselves,
without suspecting that by doing so
they raise them above themselves.
Forgiveness is almost indifference;
while love lasts forgiveness is impos
sible.
Love is like a squirrel: at once enter
prising and timid.
The Bong of the nightingale and the
howling of cats are two manners of
expressing the same feeling ; but they
are not mutually intelligible.
There is but one happiness—duty.
There is but one consolation—work.
There is but one enjoyment—the beau
tiful.
Hope is a fatigue ending in a decep
tion.
Happiness is like an echo: it an
swers to your call, but does not come.
Is the calm you have gained a proof
of acquired force or of growing weak
ness?
A great misfortune gives grandeur
even to an insignificant being.
Do not seel proud at having suppor
ted your misfortune. How could you
not have supported it?
Suffering Is our most faithful friend ;
it is always returning. Often it has
changed its dress and even its face;
but we can easily recognize it by its
cordial and intimate embrace.
Suffering is a heavy plough driven
by an iron hand. The harder and
more rebellious the soil the more it is
turned, the richer and softer the
deeper it is cut into.
In youth grief is a tempest which
makes you ill; in old age it is only a
cold wind which adds a wrinkle to
your face and one more white lock to
the others.
There are people who feed them
selves with their grief until they get
fat on it.
In great suffering you shut yourself
up like an oyster. To open your heart
by force would be to kill \ ou.
Melancholy, when it is not a physi
cal languor, is a kind of convalescence
during which one thinks one’s self
much more ill than during the illness.
Every one of our actions is rewarded
or punished, only we do not admit it.
An excellent housewife is always in
a state of despair; one would often
like the house lets perfectly kept and
more peaceful.
The kindness or youth is angelic;
the kindness of old age is divine.
There is no doubt that thinkers gov
ern the world ; and it is quite as cer
tain that the world governs poten
tates.
Patience is not passive ; on the con
trary, it in active, it is concentrated
strength.
Foolishness places itself in the fore
most rank to be observed ; intelligence
stands in the hindmost to observe.
Decline in Value.
Land in corn-growing parts of Eng
land is falling off in value. A small
estate in one of the easturn counties,
which four years ago was valued at
$125,000, was put up at auction three
weeks ago, and the highest prioe
offered for it was $45,000. It comprises
490 acres, and was bought in by the
Trustees. It is said that iu the same
part of England muoh arable laud is
running to waste for want of oapital
to pay for labor which it requires. No
farmiug except grazing and dairy
farming is said now to pay for the
outlays.*
Often the virtue of a woman must be
very great, since it has to^suffloe for
two.