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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 V y It 0 0 < 0 , 1 \ 1 FIG'. 1 " F!C 2 iJt P » a k V rs i .i \ i 'l\ \ \ 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 •N* A f | \ Mr A A '/ - V/ .51“ 411'l l * t - 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.