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ONLY THE SUNN YIHOL RS.
Only the sunny hours
Are numbered here—
Not winter time that lower*.
No twilight drear.
But from a golden sky
Where sunbeams fall,
Though the bright mopients flv—
They're counted all.
My heart its trim den' woe
Remembers not;
The ills of long ago ,
Are half forgot;
But childhood s mind of bliss,
Youth's tenderthrill,
Hope's whisper, love's flrst kiss—
They haunt xie still.
Sorrows are everywhere,
Joys—all wo few!
Have we not had our share
Of pleasure, too?
No past the glad heart covers,
No memories dark:
Only thf sunny hours
The dial mark.
Mr. Chaloner's Housekeeper.
Midwinter, and bright seasonable
weather. 8m*w lying, shining, well-
packed on all the roads, and a sharp,
frosty air and a sparkling bine sky—a
morning to make one feel their blood
flow joyously in their veins, and their
eyes glow with exercise in the open air.
Juliet Elton, in a warm sacque and a
dainty, blue zephyr fascinator tied over
her golden hair, her little blue-mittened
hands thrust in her sacque pockets, ran
down the steps of the grand entrance at
Chaloner Ilall—off for a twenty min
utes' constitutional before settling down
to the duties of the day, for pretty little
Juliet was resident governess to the three
little Chaloners, at a salary of live hun
dred dollars a year.
And, standing at his library window,
overcoatted and hatted, in readiness for
the sleigh to take him to the 8.18 train,
city bound, Mr. Hubert Chaloner looked
at the rapidly retreating figure, so slei^
der and petite and graceful.
Mr. Hubert Chaloner—thirty-eight,
owner of Chaloner Ilall, the father of
three little torments who had been in
trusted to Miss Elton's care—was a
graceful, gentlemanly man, dressed in
perfect taste, and decidedly good look
ing, with his close-cut brown hair, his
clear, pale skin, and bonny blue eyes—a
face a woman would instinctively trust
out of a thousand faces.
X ow lie looked after pretty, golden
haired Juliet, as he stood thoughtfully
drawing on his gloves, thinking how
fortunate he had been in finding a gov
erness with whom Maude, and Madge,
and Clyde were so satisfied—a woman
who was pleasant to look at, who knew 1
how to dress, who was lady-like, cheer
ful, and never transcended her position.
Then Peter drove up with the big,
two-seated sleigh—a marvel of luxury
and elegance, with its velvet-cushioned
seats and Brussels-carpeted floor, its
warm fur robes, prancing bay horses,
and solemn coachman in quiet livery.
And Mr. Chaloner jumped in, and
went tlyinp^over the frozen snow, pass
ing Juliet with a bow and a smile, just
at the big bronze gates at the entrance
to the grounds.
And, as he took the train, and con
sulted his memorandum for the day,
* Mr. Chaloner wished that, in the ac-
• eomplishmkit of his special business to
the city, he might be as successful as
he had been the day he found Juliet
Elton.
******
A cheery room into which the morning
sun. shone brightly tlq^^h the wide
shelf fid of luxurious plants that were
the chief ornaments of the plain, pleas
ant little puce.
There were no signs of actual poverty
in the pretty, well-worn Persian carpet,
and the cnr.v, roomy yet faded damask
easy-chairs and couch, nor in the tiny
little cooking stove, on which the kettle
was singing contentedly.
There were cheap curtains at the win
dows, a few pictures—cheap and unpre
tending—on the wall; there were some
books, that looked as though they had
been well and often read; there was a
red-covered pine table between the win
dows, and a canary, in its cage, singing
its very heart away.
Altogether a cheerful home-room,
which, though it bore no traces of want,
yet was unmistakably the abode of peo
ple who luid gathered these few things
together—some remnants of a previous
wreck, and some new, cheap necessities
—and gone on again, cheerily and
bravely.
•‘It is only two rooms, to lie sure,
|namnui.” Viva had said to Mrs. Elton,
year previously, when she described
newly-rented premises. “But we
dp very nicely, I think, by yourhav-
room
roomhen in
ie
to Chaloner Hall. Yon shall have your turn, and theu, with delicious‘rose
plants, mamma, and your books, and lie I fl as h es surging in and out on her
on the sofa and he comfortable as yon cheeks, her lovely, dusky eyes full of
can, dear’ —so sympathetically “and mingled apprehension and eagerness,
I will—what is that Mrs. Whitney s i s he went in, bowing to the tall, aristo-
Rosamond could never quite decide. 1 cratic gentleman, who looked undenia-
whether they dined in the kitchen, or
‘kitched in the dining-room V ,\nyhow
wee’l make just the very best of it. won't
we?”
An<l brave sweet Viva had made more
than the best of it, all that dreary year
that her mother was an invalid, and there
was no money coming in except what
Juliet sent them out of her generous
salary.
“We shall have to do something,
mamma,” Viva had said that morning,
as she bustled about, tidying up the
room. ” it’s not fair for us—me
living off Juliet. She will be wanting
to get married, some day, and she ought
to save her salary, and besides—Mamma,
now. don’t look reproachful, if you can j
help it; but it just galls me a little to i
be so beholden. Therefore, Mrs. Laur- 1
ence Elton, by your royal permission. I
shall look for a position where I can
earn my own money, and help to take
care of my blessed little mother.”
Mrs. Elton smiled in Viva’s saucy
face, a grave, loving little smile.
“No mother ever had such dear chil
dren as I,” she said, her pale lips tremb
ling. “If you feel that way, dear, it
must be right.”
“Of course it’s right,” she returned,
gaily. “ And I am all ready to start on
a tour of discovery this morning. While
you were dozing, I ran out and bought
a Herald, and I’ve cut out this adver
tisement that suits me, and that I
might suit. Two are for governesses—
day governesses—for I’d not leave you
alone at night, mamma. Two are for
salesladies, and the last—mamma, what
do you think ?”
She looked mischievously at her
but Mrs. Elton’s glance in
was particularly touching and
mother
return
tender.
“My little girl, somehow it seems to
hurt me to think of your going out into
the world alone. Are you sure it i
best ?”
“Best? Of couse it is best; and if
it wasn’t that I am afraid it would
mortally offend Juliet—Juliet is awfully
proud and unreasonable, mamma—I’d
prefer this last situation best, because
I am quite sure, I could have you with
me after awhile. And first off, you
know, Aunt Chloe could come and stay
nights with you.”
Viva's cheeks were glowing with ex
citement.
“You haven’t told me yet what it
is,” Mrs. Elton said gently, wistfully.
“ Haven’t I ? Well, cherie, it is a
housekeeper’s position, at a gentleman’s
country establishment. A pleasant home
and good salary guaranteed, in return
for intelligent services, and the appli
cants are to attend, in person, at Parlor
B, C lytic House, to-day between eleven
and two. Mamma, may 1 go? Please
may 1 go ?”
“You—a housekeeper! My daughter
“ Yes, [ know I am young, but I
know all about a house, mamma—you
know l do. May I go ?”
“But what will Juliet think? She
will he very angry. Shewill think her
self disgraced by your accepting a.
menial—”
“Mamma, dear, ought we to let Ju
liet’s foolish i^ide stand between us and
duty ? Mamma, do say yes ! Please—
please say yes. or 1 shall surely ex
plode !”
And there was no use in further re
sisting Viva’s imjietuons persuasions.
“Oh, if such a catastrophe as that
happens!” Mrs. Elton said, with an
affectionate little smile.
And then Viva rushed off to get her
things, and only stopped to kiss the
pale, sick mother by-bv before she set
out in quest of her fortune. *
* # * * * * * *
Poor little Viva! Sitting in a room
adjoining “ Parlor B,” in the Clytie
House, awaiting her turn among a half
score of other aspirants to the position
of housekeeper at a gentleman’s coun
try seat, her courage and spirits were
momentarily sinking to their lowest ebb ;
and, as female after female was dis
missed from the adjoining room—Irish,
German, American, old and young, tidy
and slovenly, each and every counte
nance expressive of their supreme pity
for those who had the ordeal to pass—
Viva was wildly tempted to fly, so posi
tive was she she would share a mutual
fate.
But she fought down the cowardly
inclination, ^tf|waited until the sol-
her
bly and completely surprised at such
girlish loveliness and girlish dignity.
“ I am come in answer to your adver
tisement, sir,” she said, quietly, her
voice quivering just the least.
He motioned her to a chair, a little,
kindly smile in his handsome brown
eyes.
“Can it be possible you want a situa
tion as housekeeper ? Why you are a
child yourself.”
“I am not so very young, sir. 1 am
to be ' over eighteen; and I thoroughly un
derstand the duties required of a house
keeper, and—and, indeed, I do very
much want the position, for we are
poor, and mamma is an invalid. And
I am used to work, indeed, sir.”
“ Used to work !” Mr. Chal oner’s eyes
wandered over the graceful little figure,
the pure, girlish face, so dignified yet so
entreating.
“ But. my dear child, it does not seem
possible that you could order a large
household. True, there would be no
menial labor, but, with a family of ten
servants, the resident governess for my
three children, myself, and almost con
tinual company, yon will understand
that the position is no sinecure.”
“I know it, sir,” and the brave,
dark eyes lifted to his ; “ but I think I
could manage. We used to be rich, sir,
and mamma was always delicate, and
my sister was very gay, so that I really
' was given charge of everything, and
mamma’s housekeeper taught me many
things. I do feel sure 1 can suit you,
sir, if only I might try.”
He smiled so kindly.
“Could you go with me to-day?”
“Yes, sir; I am ready.”
“Very well, then. As to the salary,
it will be forty dollars a month. Does
that suit you ?”
The tears rushed to her eyes.
“Suit me! Oh, sir. I feel rich al
i aily ! What will mamma say ?”
| He smiled at her girlish delight.
‘I am afraid she will say her daugh
ter has undertaken a great responsibil
ity,” he said, frankly. “Well, I will
intrust Simon to send the rest of the
applicants home and will you be back
here at three o’clock this afternoon ?
I wish to take the 8.20 train out.”
“I will be here, sure,” she said,
eagerly. “And, sir, 1 am so thankful
you have consented to try me 1”
Her little gray-lisle-thread-gloved hand
was on the door-handle, and Mr. Chal
oner had arisen courteously, when she
saw %m smiling broadly, showing the
very handsomest teeth and a dimple in
his chin.
“Has it occurred to you that neither
of us knows the name of the other?
Allow me to introduce myself—Hubert
Chaloner,of Chaloner Hall, a hundred
miles or so iq* the Hudson. And you ?”
A vi> r id flush deepened on her cheeks,
and her eyes glanced eagerly.
“Why, sir, is it possible ! Chaloner
*llall! Mv sister Juliet lives there as
governess! I am Viva—Viva Elton,
and I have often read about you in her
letters.”
Then she blushed again, and Mr.
Chaloner laughed a low, musical, little
laugh.
“It is rather a coincidence,” he said,
and in his own heart, thought how very
unlike the sisters were.
One, haughty as a duchess, with her
cold, fair beauty—the other, like some
little tropical flower, with the dew fresh
on its petals.
At home, Viva related her wonderful
news, while she hastily made her prep
arations for departure.
“Of course, Juliet will Ik* furious,
mamma,” she said, half apprehensively.
“But I can’t help it. I shall go all the
same. And only think of all the money
I shall have—ten dollars a week! Oh,
mamma, do pray that Mr. Chaloner
may be suited with me and keep me !
And after a while, in the spring—Aunt
Chloe will stay with you till May, you
know, and you must try not be lone
some. In May I’ll find some place near
me, where you can live, and I can see
you everyday. Mamma, I’m going to
he very happy.”
And her mother had not the heart to
crush her bright, young dream, when
kissed her good-bye, and realized
she had let her
seek
the window and parted the ruby satin-
and-velvet curtains, and pressed his
nose against the French plate-glass, to
see the prancing bays dash up to the
door in grand s':yle.
“And lie’s brought the new house
keeper,” Maude said, quietly, peeping
over Clyde’s shoulder. "Oli, what a
tiny little thing she is ! Not as tall as
you Miss Elton, ”
Juliet Elton sat, in a low, gray dam
ask chair, before the glowing grate,
holding a screen before her fair face,
charmingly dressed in unobtrusive
black silk, and dainty, creamy lace frills
at neck and wrist—such a sweet,
gracious vision to welcome the widowed
father of her three charges ; and Juliet
Elton had made up her mind that
Hubert Chaloner should never miss
that welcome until the time came when
both the welcome and the welcomer
should be indispensable to him for the
rest of his life.
“No?” she returned, pleasantly.
“Madge, dear, you are straining your
eyes, so far from the light. Clyde, turn
up the gas, will you ?”
And, just as the bright flame was
turned brilliantly on, Mr. Chaloner
entered the room.
“I have brought my new housekeeper
to see you, Miss Elton,” he said.
For one little instant, Juliet's heart
throbbed at what the thought was pe
culiar} 1 suggestive on Mr. Chaloner’s
part. Her lips parted in a condescend
ing yet gracious smile, as she half arose
as some duchess might do.
And Viva removed her blue veil, and
smiled as she extended her hand.
“You are surprised, sister Juliet ?”
While such a change swept over Ju
liet’s face—such shame and bewilder
ment, and consternation, and fury.
“Why, Viva Elton I”
And Mr. Chaloner, deeply engrossed,
to all appearances, in the children’s
caresses, took note of Viva’s pleading
sweetness and Juliet’s well-bred rage.
“I dare say you will want to see each
other,” he said, kindly. “Miss Juliet,
if you will show your sister to her room
—the housekeeper’s room—please. ”
And once inside of the “housekeep-
I er’s room"—such a cosy, bonny suit of
I three rooms, sitting-room, bed-room
and bath-room—Juliet poured all the
; vials of her rage on Viva’s head.
[ “You have disgraced me—you have
I ruined everything, everything!” she
said, fiercely. “You shall not stay
j here another night! How dare you so
I insult me ? Coming here—here, where
1 am—as a housekeeper !”
In vain Viva explained and protested,
and it was only when Juliet had ex
pended all her rage, and left Viva to
cry herself to sleep, that she left her.
* * * * * * * *
Ten o’clock in the morning, of a
lovely winter day, bright and clear ; and
Mr. Chaloner, standing beside his study-
table, looking at Viva Elton’s beautiful,
rippling golden hair, as she stood, with
drooped head, before him, in obedience
to his summons to his library to receive
j her orders.
“You really mean you have offended
yoitr sister so deeply ?”
“She is very much hurt, and—and
ashamed,” Vivi said sorrowfully.
“She says I had better not remain.
If I do, she will leave ; and, sir, it will
be easier for you to get another house
keeper than a governess for the chil
dren. Juliet is used to them, and they
love her.”
lie looked eagerly at her.
“But so far as you are personally con
cerned, Miss Viva—have you no choice ?
Do you wish to go ?”
“I—Juliet has a better right than I,”
she said, softly.
And Mr. Chaloner stepped up nearer,
a new tender light in his grave eyes.
“Perhaps I am the best judge of
that,” he said, quietly. “Miss Juliet
objects to remaining with me because
you are my housekeeper—is that it ?
Or, rather, insists upon your leaving me
because she is governess ?”
Viva nodded.
“1 can easily settle the difficulty, if
you will allow me,” he said, and sud
denly there came into his tones some
thing that made every nerve in her
thrill. “Will you let me, little girlie?
It may seem too sudden, to you, but
that day before you left the room in the
hotel, 1 think L loved you lietti
ever loved before!
Viva, will you let me
Nay, djjyHyo]
little wife? Viva, dear,
my darling
yes ?”
And although it was very sudden,
and altr gh unheard of in the aruial,
of every-day love making, it was never,
theless a blessed thing for them bothe
and haughty Juliet had the satisfaction
| of knowing that her sister was not such
a menial, after all, in the household at
| Chaloner Hall.
I And dear little Mrs. Elton has a home
J there—a beautiful, happy home, and
I her son-in-law loves her as well almost
I as he does Viva.
While Viva, so bright, and happy,
and thankful, declares he married the
whole family to get a housekeeper.
Material Apparitions.
Envelopes were first used in 188'.*.
Amesthesia was discovered in 1844.
The first steel pen was made in 1880.
The first air-pump was made in 1654.
The first lucifer match was made in
1798.
Mohammed was born at Mecca about
570.
The first iron steamship was built in
1880.
The first balloon ascent was made in
1798.
Coaches were first used in England in
1569.
The first steel-plate was discovered in
1880.
The first horse-railroad was built in
1826-27.
The Franciscans arrived in England
in 1224.
The first steamboat plied the Hudson
in 1807.
The entire Hebrew Bible was printed
in 1488.
Ships were first “copper-bottomed”
in 1788.
Gold was first discovered in Califor
nia in 1848.
The first telescope was used in Eng’
land in 1608.
Christianity was introduced into Ja
pan in 1549.
The first watches were made at Nur-
emburg in 1477.
First saw-maker’s anvil brought to
America in 1819.
First almanac printed by George Von
Furbach in 1460.
The first newspaper advertiserpen*
appeared in 1752. • ^
Percussion arms were used in the
Uuited States Army in 1880.
The first use of a locomotive in this
country was in 1829.
Omnibuses were first introduced in
t New York in 1880.
Kerosene was first used for lighting
purposes in 1826.
The first copper cent was coined in
New Haven in 1687.
The first glass factory in the United
States was built in 1780.
The first printing press in the United
States was worked in 1620.
Glass windows were first introduced
nito England in the eighth century.
The first steam engine on this conti
nent was brought from England in
1758.
The first complete sewing machine was
patented by Elias Howe. .Jr., in 1846.
The first Society for the Promotion of
Christian Knowledge was organized in
1698.
The first attempt to manufacture pins
in this country was made soon after the
war of 1^12.
The first prayer book of Edward VI.
came into use by authority of Parlia
ment on Whit-Sunday, 1549.
The first temperance society in this
country was organized in Saratoga
county. N. Y., in March, 1808.
The first coach in Scotland was
brought thither in 1561, when Queen
Mary came from France. It belonged
to Alexander Lord Seaton. ,
The first daily newspaper appeared in
1702. The first newspaper printed in
the United States was published in
Boston on September 25, 1790.
The manufacture of porcelain was in
troduced into the province of Hezin,
Japan, from China, in 1513, and Hezin
ware still bears Chinese marks.
The first telegraphic instrument was
successfully operated by S. F. B. Morse,
the inventor, in 1835, though its
was not demonstrt
1842.
The first Unioil
the 1st
at