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TWO LOVES.
Two loves had I; a star of morning one—
The other like the rising ot the sun.
Two loves, two dreams! The one made haste
to fly;
The other had a life that may not die.
Two hopes, two aids. Theoneislostinlight,
The other still oludes my closest flight.
I mourn for one beneath tho rustling tree
Where haunt the quiet birds of memory;
But rise and follow when the other calls.
With scorn of obstacles, contempt of falls.
Perhaps ’tis well that I coul 1 never gain
The first—that I pursue the last with pain.
It may bo that our life was never meant
For full achievement or completo conteht;
It may be wo are taught by long pursuit,
Hero is the seed time, only thero the fruit.
I cannot toll; but still the pangs remain;
Two loves had I, and followed both in vain.
—Arthur L. Salmon.
THE LOST TRUNK.
mM ijfel O M E, Courtney,
4# lend mo your ears
, for half an hour,
imm m pickle,” for I am exclaimed in a
J-v Fred Sawyer to his
, friend. “Come up
^o m y Quarters. I
i " l jpAvj have show something and—no to
l \ you,
1? joking — I need
^our advice.”
“If you take it
it will he for the first time,” laughed
good-natured Courtney. “Lead on,
and don’t lose any time in relieving
this suspense, I’m not fond of rid
dies, you know.”
“Why, yesterday I dropped into
the saleroom at a London statioD.
You krow, they sell off the uncalled
for luggage at intervals, and a sale
was just going on. A number of the
boys were there, and wo each com¬
menced to bid for a trunk. I selected
rather a small one, and— Here we
are! Como right in, and view the
burden of my woes.”
Ho led tho way into a pleasant apart¬
ment, and pointed to a small leather
trunk which stood in the middle of the
room.
“Open it, if you want to,” he said.
“I’ve had enough of the confounded
thing. It’s full of woman’s stuff, and
wbat do you suppose I can do with it9
I haven’t an aunt or a cousin in the
wide world.”
“Keep it till you’re married, Fred.
These seem to he good clothes,” Raid
Courtney, peeping into the box, and
lifting dainty garments with a half
reverent touch, in spite of his laugh¬
ing face.
“Humph! Tho idea of such advice
from you! Why, old boy, I shall not
marry for ten years—five, anyway—
and I’m not going to risk keeping
the se things here and being taken for
a lady burglar. Mrs. McGaffrey would
find them in spite of everything—
smell murder in the air, and hunt
around for the skull bones. No, I’ll
dump the trunk in the river; that’s
what I’ll do.”
“Pshaw! You’re too sensible for
that. These things cost money—lots
of it, I imagine—and you paid some¬
thing for them in the bargain. Yon
might sell them to the secondhand—
No, I’ve a better scheme than that.
Why not go through the trunk sys¬
tematically, find out the owner’s name
and address- there are surely letters
or something—and write to her, offer¬
ing her the while thing for a reason¬
able sum?”
“Do an aot of charity, and yet turn
an honest penny. Any one would
know you are Scotch. But I must go
back to the store, and— Here! you
have all the timo there is; suppose
you Is go through it for me ? All I ask
that you will keep Mrs. McGaffrey
out. Fare-dieu!" And oft he went.
Courtney laughingly looked the
door; but the smiles soon left his face
as lie proceeded with his task. He
wondered if the little battered trunk
had been lost in some of the dreadful
catastrophes he had read of; he im¬
agined the owner killed and her body
as well as luggage unidentified in the
horrible exoitement.
They were girlish things—dainty
veils and ribbons, ginghams, silks and
showy linen. He lingered over a small,
worn slipper, and telt a thrill akin to
that awakened in Cinderella’s prince.
“No clew yet,” he murmured.
“Perhaps there are letters in this
box."
Its catch was bent, bnt he wrenched
it open, and out flew—his own photo¬
graph i; plump
He sat down in a box of lace
and stared. On the other side were
his initials, and a date he had been
trving for three years to forget,
“June 2, 1890.”
“Nell Burr's trunk 1" ho exclaimed.
“Oh, my little girl, what has hap¬
pened to you? Mav be some one—.
No; here are your initials on this belt
buckle, and your gloves were No. 6,
and this slipper would just fit your
dear little foot."
The young man grew excited and
rapturous over each article; presently
he lifted a package of letters from one
corner.
“My own—and they express the
greatest happiness life ever brought
me. They are like the leaves that flut¬
ter down in the November rain.
wonder why she kept them. How many
there are!”
Unfastening the cord, he turned the
letters over and found many of the
envelopes scribbled upon by a Inmiliar
hand. There were items jotted down
to be remembered in answering, and
scraps of poetry which had not long
since reached his eye, and been ever
since cherished in his memory. Upon
the last one—for they were all num¬
bered—was written in ink this girlish
confession: “A1 CourtDey, I love you,
but will never marry any one so in¬
constant.”
Resting bis head on the empty tray
in silence, he exclaimed:
“I was a fool—a consummate fool!
—and now, perhaps, she is dead.”
A noise outside aroused him, and in
a bewildered way be surveyed the gar¬
ments 3trewed on every side, and
gazed mourniully at the beautiful hat
through which he had run one foot
aud the box of laces he had uncon¬
sciously used for a cushion, Fred
would be coming in a few minutes.
He began repacking the things with
ruthless baste, and, stowing the let¬
ters in bis own pockets, was lying
lazily on the couch reading the paper
when his chum entered.
“Well!” he cried, “what mystery
did you unearth?”
T o mystery at all,” was the delib¬
erate answer; “but Ihe ‘stuff,’ as you
call it. is worth something, and would
be a regular gold mine to a girl. I’ve
a notion to buy it from you and pre¬
sent it, to my sisters. What will you
take?”
“Oh, come! You’re just'doing that
to help me out. I know your benevo¬
lent old heart. No, I’ll follow your
first advice, and hunt up the owner.
It would be quite romantic, and, be¬
sides, you hinted that I might make a
shilling or two by is. You found her
name and address there, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” A1 reluctantly answered; “I
found her name and an address, but
it is hardly likely you could find her
after so many years. You know, they
keep luggage a long time before it is
sold.”
“I’m not sure about that,” said
Fred. “I’ve thought about it all the
morning, and the idea grows on me.
It will be rare fun to try. anyway.
What did you say the name was?”
“But no doubt this girl was hilled
—luggage is seldom lost except by
some such accident, and—and maybe
.she is an old woman.”
Fred laughed immoderately.
“Just as if that would make an act
cf charity less meritorious. Old wo¬
men don’t usually wear white lace
hats, though. You must have found
something precious in there—jewelry,
or something—which makes you anx¬
ious to martyrize yourself. It’s mine,
however, and I am Dot as anxious to
part with it ns I was—not till I’ve
looked through it, anyway.”
As he turned the key A1 remembered
that his own photograph was lying in
a conspicuous box, and exclaimed :
“Wait until after dinner, then; I’m
half starved.”
“Perhaps it would be better,” was
the answer, and they passed out to¬
gether.
When fairly downstairs A1 said he
had forgotten his handkerchief, and
flew back three steps at a time to get
it. Securing the picture and placing
it in an inside pocket, he said to him¬
self :
“Surely there’s nothing else to give
me away, But I must wheedle him
out of the trunk.”
After dinner Fred ‘‘went through”
the contents of the trunk, making
boyish remarks concerning each arti¬
cle as he threw it aside. Al inwardly
winced at these remarks, and could
scarcely restrain himself from knock¬
ing him over on the spot.
“What makes you so crusty?”
queried Fred, suddenly, as one of his
ohoicest jokes was met by a gruff
“H’m!” “There’s no fun in yon, and
why you want this stuff beats me.
Your sisters would turn up their noses
at second-hand clothing, if it is pretty.
But it isn’t worth fussing over, so take
it along. No doubt it would prove a
white elephant on my hands sooner or
later. ”
Not until the trunk was safely in
his room could Al breathe freely; even
then it was no easy matter to keep it
out of his sisters’ sight. They both
made a pet and confidant of their one
brother, and had a fashion of dropping
into his room at all hours to tell him
of their schemes and woes. He had
pushed the trunk under a mahogany
table in the corner, the old-fashioned
cover of which reached almost to the
floor.
When he told them he was going
away for a little business “trip,” they
beset him with questions and petitions
to be taken with him, finally declar¬
ing that they would clean house
while he was gone, and “sort out his
trash.”
So behold him, in the dead of night,
carrying the "white elephant” up the
narrow attic stairs bumping his head
on every rafter and getting cobwebs
in his mustache. He covered it with
old clothiDg, pushed a big box in
front of it and then crept downstairs,
feeling as guilty as if he had been con¬
cealing some crime. At breakfast the
girls both talked at once abont the
burglar who tried to get in, and how
they pounded on Ai’s door and coaid
not even get an answer.
At noon he was oft, and as the train
whirled onward he became possessed
with fears. She might not be at Hast,
ings; she might not care for him after
these three years; she might even be
married or dead.
Arriving at his destination at last,
he only stopped to leave his bag at an
hotel, and walked rapidly to a familiar
house in the suburbs. Binging the
bell, he inquired for Miss Burr in a
matter-of-fact way, as if he had seen
her the day before. He watched the
girl’s face as he spoke, aDd saw no
trace of surprise. She simply said:
“Miss Burr may not be able to see
you, but come in, and 1 will a3k.”
Presently he was shown into a small,
sunny room, where, on a couch, lay
the one girl he had ever loved. He
meant to explain at once the cause of
his foolish going and eager coming, all
of which he had framed into frank.
beautiful sentences; but somehow
they forsook him, and he fell back on
the commonplace. She received him
with quiet words of welcome, and then
said:
“Pardon my position, but lam such
an invalid that it is a trial to sit up.”
“An invalid]” he echoed, faintly.
“Yes,” she answered. “Did you
not hear of my accident several months
ago? On coming home from a visit I
stopped for a day or so in a London
hotel. The building caught fire a few
hours after I entered it. The horror
of the scene is so stamped—branded
would be a more appropriate word—
on my memory that I cannot hear to
talk of it. I lost everything except,
the ulster which was wrapped aboij't
me, and would have lost my life bit
for the brave fireman who broke my
fall. Oh, no, I am not seriously in
jured,” she continued, in answer to
his half-spoken question, “though I
have been ill ever since, It was such
a shock, vou know.”
By deft questioning he succeeded in
making her say:
“Yes, I lost my trunk. It was left
at the siation (I expected to go on in
a day or twe), and the deposit check
was destroyed with my pocketbook.
Railway people are necessarily par
ticular about identifying luggage; and
lor two weeks I was too ill to even re
member it. Resides, I had only gone
for a short outing, and it held nothing
of much value, except some keepsakes
that were dear to m’e.”
A deep flush stole over her face
at these words; he watched it for a
delicious moment, and then gathered
her up in his arms, exclaiming:
“I will bring them back, if you will
pay the reward I want.”
Then—or rather, after he had tor
tured her impatience mercilessly—ha
told her of Fred’s “bargain” bought
at auction. She begged for it, coaxed,
pleaded, all.in vain. He. declared sha
could only have the little leather
trunk as a wedding present, And a
very happy wedding party it was, too.
—Tit-Bits. *
An Odd Badge ol Office.
Among the badges of office that Mr.
Casper Whitney has brought from the
far North, there is one, a pair of buf
fa.o horns, mounted on a staff. Re¬
calling the constancy of horns as the
emblem or symbol of office, or indicat¬
ed in the person parading horns a cer¬
tain dignity, it may be remembered
that the German nobility still use
horns as a part of their coat-of-arms.
Studying the question Captain John
J. Bourke believes that symbolism al¬
ways has had a utilitarian derivation.
“Thus the horns of the altars of the
Israelites may have been first intended
merely for hanging parts of the offer¬
ing or the implements of sacrifice
upon them, much as incense may have
been introduced to cover the heavy
odor of burning meats. Man in the
primitive period hunted, then herded
animals, which in nearly every case
were horned creatures. ” Sometimes
there must have been scarcity of food;
then he “had recourse to dances or
other ceremonies, in which one or
more of the medicine men represented
the animal god whose wrath was to be
appeased." The priest woie the
head, the horns, the skin of the an¬
imal. The head and horns might have
served for a mask. In time the mask
was abridged, and then only the horn,
were used, and next the horns were
not worn, but borne before the priest
or medicine man. The horn of plenty
may have come, Captain Bourke be¬
lieves, from its having been used as a
receptacle for seeds. Following fur¬
ther the idea of symbolism, as present¬ those
ed by Captain Bourke, there are
curiously shaped American stones
called “ceremonial stones.” These are
worked up into two hornlike forms,
and have a hole in the middle. They
are of various sizes and weights,
Some might have been too heavy to
wear suspended around the neck.
Might not the form have been derived
from horns?—New York Times.
A King's Irresistible Argument,
Frederick the Great’s father was in
the habit of kicking the shins of those
who differed from him in argument.
One day he asked a courtier if he
agreed with him on some discussed
P°i n k
"oire,” he returned, “it ... is impossi- .
ble to hold a different oninion from a
king who has such strong convictions
and wears such thick boots.”—Argo
aau U
The peonliarity of good musio is
that it seldom sounds so.—Puck.
JAUNTY JACKETS.
STYLUS FOR WINTER ARE NEAT
• AND COMFORTABLE.
They are Made to Suit All Tastes
and. Purses—Velvet and Fur
Trimming—Latest in Wo¬
men’s Hats.
1 ^HE London styles for the
winter season are very neat,
simple and comfortable.
They are, if possible, more
modest than they were last year. One
style, which is very elegant and ef
fective. is a cape of black or dark col
ore d crepon, lined with quilted or
padded silk. It is-cut very full and
wide, and arranged with the folds of
the back pleated at each shoulder and
i n the middle, so as to fall in four
solid masses, giving a symmetrical
and substantial effect. The high eol
] a r and shoulders are edged with
black ostrich feather trimming, and
from the middle of the shoulders a
handsome ornament in black jet or
passementerie extends about one foot
downward.
Another is a semi-military cape of
dark gendarme blue, dark olive or
rich sepia, decorated with black cloth
applique upon the breast, shoulders
and back, with single line of black
cloth tipped around the edge of a tall
turn down collar, and three straps of
black cloth stitched around the lower
edge, an inch and a half apart.
It is made of very heavy cloth and
f s constructed with a flowing front,
which conceals the buttons or other
fasteners.
I
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It
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1
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FIG'. 1 " F!C 2
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P » a
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FIG. 3 FIG. 4
FIG. 1—A CREPON CAPE. FIG. 3—A FUR-TRIMMED JACKET.
FIG. 2—A SERGE JACKET. FIG. 4—AN APPLIQUE CAPE. ,
A third tasty hut inexpensive winter
jacket, is made of black serge, plain,
lined or padded, according to the
wearer’s taste. It is double breasted,
tight fitting around the chest and
waist, and rather loose upon the hips,
fastened with two large buttons and
finished with a turndown collar in
black velvet. The lapels are fuller
than usual, and, when turned down,
the lower edge is nearly horizontal
and the point almost touches the in¬
sertion of the sleeve. The sleeves are
pleated at the shoulder.
Another winter jacket, a trifle more
expensive but very effective, is made
in rich brown cloth, with full balloon
sleeves and moderately tight lower
sieves, turned up in neat gauntlets.
The collar and lapels are quite large,
and roll gracefully from high up in the
neck down to the shoulder. Both
collar, lapels and edging are trimmed
with beaver or other thick fur. The
lower hem is left plain, braided in the
same color or trimmed with the same
kind of fur. In both the jackets there
are good, substantial pockets on each
side. These are quite large at the
opening and much larger within. They
are lined with Canton flannel or with
fine fur, and enable the wearer to en
joy the man’s delight—warm hands
on a cold day.
POPULARITY OF VELVETS.
Velvet ribbons have the appearanc
of monopolizing the attention, for a
time at least, this winter, Skirts
will be more or less trimmed, and vel¬
vet ribbon will be largely that trim¬
ming. It will be put at the foot in the
shape of plain bands, sometimes in
graduated width, or in rows of three to
five.
Velvet will be the popular fabric all
winter, very largely used for sleeves
in woolen gowns, for bodices to which
sleeves like the skirt will be attached,
and for whole suits, to say nothing of
jackets and wraps.
The rage for velvet will exter i even
to the head coverings, and, for a time
at least, they will all be made of vel¬
vet) pushing felt hats far in the back-
ground, for fashionable wear
velvet wait,” hats are and to will be made up ‘“ w bn!
you suit the individual
vc / mms
Mu 8 yr* A
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Mr A A
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V/ .51“ 411'l l *
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FUR TRIMMED.
hats taste, alike, so that which no two is really women wilTwear
the proper
thing. No woman wants to pay $20
for “imported” bonnet. *
an
Next to velvet, fur will be the pon
ular trimming. An odd fancy for
capes is especially designed, it would
seem, tor the working over of one’s
old furs. You can take one of the old
deep fur capes to the fur shop, and
by the addition of a deep border of
velvet, or some sharply ' contrastin*
°
fur, which will be set onto your cape,
the bottom of which has been cut in
deep notches, you can have an elegant
new garme u, and one which is pre¬
eminently stylish, at comparatively
small cost.
MILLINERY HINTS.
Hats are still worn fairly on the top
of the head, with either the little cen¬
tral curl or the bare forehead showing,
If the forehead be high, the hat is set
so well down that the start of the di*
vision of the hair is covered, and then
the locks appear in artistic slant down
over the ears and hiding the temples.
Then on the larger hats the crop oi
plumes seems even more luxuriant
than it was last winter.
V'
’r&i.
‘V*
w #
r
HANDSOME AND STYLISH.
Velvet hats with brim in black an
soft velvet tarn crowns overhanging 8
jeweled hand are made jaunty t J
thrusting a pair of plumes under
eaves of the crown and allowing the
to nod bevond the brim, this on o
sides. At the back the brim turns up
sharply, and through a pair of 6las e
ends of the jeweled band hang do
and make a knot of glitter against l
hair.