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,ET US FORGET. A,
forget. It is too lato
jSSSojM (SflgHfeir .end our vows, or iterate
broken pledges, or replace
lost ideals, or retrace
The ways we trod disconsolate!.
I may not be! Capricious fate
Made our two pathways separate
That once ran parallel a sp''
Let us forget
Howe’er we sue and supplicate,
No power that is can reinstate
One day of those lost yesterdays,
And bid it wear its old-time grace;
’Twere better to erase their date.
Let us forget!
—Rosaline E. Jones, in New York Sun,
DOWN THE MOUNTAIN.
BY NELLIE E. C. SCOTT.
The kitchen clock was purring, pre
paratory to striking, when Ben awoke,
sufficiently aroused to count the strokes.
“Five o’clock,” he said, with a con¬
tented sigh, and turned over for another
nap, for five o’clock is very early on a
cold winter’s morning, even on a farm.
The particular farm where this took
place was located upon a hill-top, and
consisted of a little “garden spot,” a
few acres of meadow, and a few more
acres of stony pasture land. It was in
New England, of course, and after a
fashion it supported the Becket family.
A footfall in the kitchen adjoining
fell upon Ben’s sleepy senses; then a line
of light glimmered under his door, and
in spite of himself he was wide awake.
He had no thought of burglars, for no
thief in his senses would choose the
Becket house to rifle. “Somebody must
be sick,” he thought, as he jumped out
of bed and dressed hastily; but when he
stepped into the kitchen, and saw no one
but his sister sitting at the table, writ
ing, he felt as if he had been imposed
upon, and had been turned out of bis
good, warm bed by something like a
false pretence.
“Well, what in the world are you do¬
ing up at this hour, I’d like to know?”
he said to his sister in a tone not at all
amiable.
“S-sh!” replied Allie, softly. “Come
over here and I’ll talk to you. You
see,” she continued, half-apologetically,
as he looked severely at some sheets of
paper all written over and intorlined,
“I’ve been writing essays in my dreams
all night, and on all kinds of subjects.
One was ‘Why Grasshoppers Have More
Legs than Frogs,’and another was ‘Evi¬
dences of the Silurian Age in Connecti¬
cut,’ and the rest came in anywhere be¬
tween.”
But the frown still remained on Ben’s
face, and as he said nothing, Allie looked
up and exclaimed, impatiently, “Oh, go
back to the bed if you feel so bad1 I
didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“Well, I’m glad it’ll soon be over,” he
said, in a gentler tone. “You think two
much about it, Allie,” he continued
anxiously. “You may not succeed, you
know.”
“I guess * do know it, Ben,” she said,
“but I don’t mean that it shall be my
fault if I fail, for it’s the only chance I
shall ever have to get a profession.”
“Oh, yes, Allie, there’ll be other
chances.”
“I don’t know where they’re coming
from. You know how we have to work
and manage now, and it’s just all we can
do to get a living and something decent
to wear. And you remember we had
hardly that until mother and I made
servants of ourselves-”
“Servants! Whose servants are you I’d
like to know?”
“Well, I wonder whnt you call it—
making ice-cream and cake and pics,and
furnishing cold milk and hat coffee to
every one who come up the mountain in
summer to ‘enjoy the chawming view. I
Allie languidly closed her eyes and
drawled out the quotation, which, in
spite of himself, made Ben grin.
“And the patronizing air they put on
in speaking to me! I tell you, Ben, I’m
tired of it. It does seem as if I couldn’t
stand it another summer. I feel that God
made me their equal, if I am poor, and
I don’t want to be looked down on any
longer if I can help it. That’s why I want
to write the best essay—if I only knew
what the subject would be, Ben!” she
'added, meditatively. “But if practice
counts for anything, I surely stand a
chance.”
“Yes, one in a hundred. Don’t set
your heart on the thing—that’s my ad¬
vice.”
When he had given it, Ben returned
to bed for “just forty winks,” and Allie
continued her writing.
“I’ve got to go to Bolton to-day,
Ben,” said Mr. Becket at the breakfast
table. “I hear there are some likely
horses there, so I’ll take Tom along, and
raaybo I can trade or sell him. You can
hitch up the one I brought home last
night, and take Allie to the station this
noon. I hope you’ll win, my girl,” he
said to his daughter, who looked up
with a smile to say good-by. * ‘It’ll be a
great thtag for you if you do; more than
I’ve ever been able to do for you, though
I’d have done more if I could.”
Allie put up her hand quickly, and
covered the hard fingers that were laid
upon her head as she answered, softly,
“I know you would, father.”
She looked after him as he went out of
the kitchen door and down the path to
the barn, and knew he was reproaching
himself for the poor way in which his
family lived.
Allie could not bear to let him dwell
upon it. She finished her coffee hastily,
and taking his overcoat on her arm,
lowed him out. She knew her
loved to have her with him. She
the coat on the wagon-seat, and with
bright and cheery air began helping him
harness the horse.
“Good-by and good luck!” he
out, as he drove through the bar-way
into the road.
Mrs. Becket, watching from the win¬
dow, said to herself, “She’s cheered him
up again—he’s smiling. Dear girl!
There’s no one can lighten the shadows
as she can.”
As the day advanced, the cold grew
less intense, and for an hour the snow
fell thickly. Then came a drizzling
rain, which froze as it fell.
“We can take a sleigh, I guess,
mother,” said Allie. “There’s been so
little sleighing this winter that I shall
enjoy this ride. It seems to me I never
saw such a blizzardy winter—plenty of
snow, too, but all drifted so that it has
been of no use.”
“Yes, I like to see the ground white
again,” said Mrs. Becket, “but I hope it
won’t be very deep, for your father took
the wagon.”
“Not much danger now, since it’s
turned to an ice-storm. It will probably
thaw before night. ”
At half-past ten Mrs. Becket put a
“drawing” of tea in the white crockery
teapot, and set it on the stove.
“Tell Ben to harness the horse, Allie,”
she said, “and do you get ready, child.
I know it’s early, but you’d better not
take any chances.”
The girl obeyed, and soon returned
dressed for her journey, and carrying a
little package of stationery, a box of
pens which she proceeded to test, and a
bottle of ink.
The cause of this excitement in the
Becket household was an offer of a prize
to the scholar under sixteen who should
write the best essay. The prize was to
be a thorough education for whatever
professson the winner might choose, and
tbe contest was confined to the school
children of the county. This was the
afternoon set apart for the candidates to
assemble at the county-seat, where the
essay would be made known, and the
contest take plaee.
“Allie 1” called Ben, putting his head
inside the door. “Come out and hold
up the shafts foi me, will you? It’s a
strange horse, you know, and I don’t
like to let go his head. ”
She met him at the stable door. He
was leading the horse by the bridle, but
the animal’s forefeet were all he could be
induced to put beyond the sill.
“Why, Ben, he’s balky!” exclaimed
Allie, in dismay.
“Oh, no, I guess not,” answered Ben,
lightly. “He seems to be stiff, some¬
how, though he walked all right when
father brought him home last night.
Run and get a few oats in a measure,
Allie, and hold them before him.”
At sight of the oats the horse stepped
outside, and a few paces beyond the
door. Then one of his feet slipped side
wise, and in terror he fairly sat down on
his haunches. The sight was so comical
that the boy and girl laughed outright.
Allie tendered the oats again. “Come,
good old Bill, got up!” she said, patting
his nose and walking slowly before him;
but as soon as that inducement was re¬
moved, “good old Bill” stood quite
still.
“Well, if I’ve got to lead him to the
station with an oat-measure, I don’t see
where the advantage comes in!” she
cried, impatiently. “Ben, what are we
to do?”
“Children, what’s keeping you?’
called Mrs. Becket from the door.
“You must hurry, Alice, or you will not
be in time.”
“Mother," she answered, “the horse
won’t go a step on the ice.”
Mrs. Becket hurried out.
“You never will get to the station with
that horse,” she said. It was quite plain
that she was right. mother,”
“But I can get her there,
said Ben, suddenly, “if you don’t mind
—and if she isn’t afraid,” turning to his
sister.
“Afraid of what?” asked the girl.
“Afraid to ride down the mountain on
my big sled.”
“With you?”
“Of course with me. You’d make a
good hand at steering, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, I’ll go—if mother’ll let me,”
she said, turning an appealing face to
Mrs. Beeket.
“It’s the only way, mother, and I’ll
take care of her,” said Ben.
Mrs. Becket did not deliberate long.
It must be decided at once, and per¬
haps her daughter’s future was at stake.
“Come!” she said. They ran into
the house, and soon, her wraps and
waterproof thrown on, a package of
cookies aud apples in her pocket and her
little satchel in her hand, Allie came out
at the door.
In a moment Ben, who had meantime
put up the horse, had tucked her snugly
into the front of the long, home-made
sled, and had jumped on with his feet
out behind.
Allie bent her head to the left so as not
to obstruct his vision, and in ten seconds
more they were beyond the first “thank
ye-ma’am,” and out of sight of Mrs.
Becket, who stood in the gateway.
What a glorious ride it was? Not a
ride, but a flight did it seem as they
sped down the icy mountain almost as
fast as an express train could travel.
Fortunately, the wind was at their
backs. If the icy mist had driven into
their faces the ride would have been im¬
possible. “Somebody’s coming the mountain,
up
Ben 1” said Allie, suddenly.
•‘Well, let him turn out then,
room enough to let us pass."
“Heisn’t turning out! Call to Mm,
Ben.”
“Hi, there!" yelled Ben at the top of
his voice, but the driver of the ap¬
proaching ox-team paid no attention to
the call.
“O Ben,” cried Allie in horror, “it’s
Nate Adams, and he’s drunk!”
All this had passed in hard more than
an instant, and meantime the sled on
which Ben and Alice were seated was
flying toward the approaching team.
They could not stop the sled, as well
might one think of stopping a storm.
Nor could they slip off it. To attempt
that might mean instant death for one
or both of them. Moreover, the road
was a cut at that point, and the sled
could not be run upon the bank.
Allie was praying, although her white
lips were unable to move. Ben bent his
head over her shoulder, and said in her
ear:
“Hold on like grim death, Allie; well
get through all right, we’ll reach Den¬
man’s pasture before we meet the team. ”
“Denman’s pasture” was an almost
level strip, about six yards in width,
which opened directly off the road—a
little table-land with the sloping mount¬
ain wall on one side, and an abrupt de¬
scent on the other.
But could they reach itl That was
the question that flitted through Bell’s
brain again and again, quicker than
light. just in time. Here
Yes; they were
was Denman’s pasture, and the team still
two rods away 1 Ben threw himself side
wise to turn the sled upon the level
ground, but even here, where the road
was far less steep than on any other part
of the mountain, it was not easy to make
the sled respond, and half the “table”
was passed before the sled crossed its
border.
The momentum was still great, and
after whirling completely around the
sled went over the rock and landed in a
snowbank nearly twenty feet below.
A scream from Allie as they went over
was quickly stifled in the snow, and
when Ben scrambled to his feet his sister
and the sled were nowhere in sight.
But the break in the crust showed him
where to look, so he thrust in his arms
to the elbows and found Allie’s fingers,
which scarcely closed over his own.
Snow flew in all directions for a
minute, and then Alice was sitting on the
strong crust of the drift, while Ben sup¬
ported her with his arm and tried to stop
the blood which was flowing from her
fingers. She had, indeed, held on “like
grim death,” and her hands, which had
struck first, were badly cut by the hard
snow.
“Poor Allie! poor Allie 1” Ben was
saying, and each word was almost a sob.
He had never before seen his strong
sister in even an approach to fainting,
and thought she must be dying.
“Never mind, Ben,” she said, lifting
her head from his shoulder, and looking
af him in pleased surprise “I’m at the un
lhoked-for tenderness. not hurt
much, but I was terribly frightened.”
“Can you stand up, dear? Rest against
this tree for a minute till I get the sled
out, and then I’ll take you home.”
“Home I” the word roused her in¬
stantly. Struggling to her feet she
peered through the sleet down into the
valley, where the railroad was in view for
miles.
“No,” she said, “we will go to the
station, and we shall have to hurry.
Here, tear your handkerchief into strips,
and tie up my hands, quick!”
“Allie, you don’t think I’m gom’ to
take you to the train now—after this I”
“Yes, I do.”
“Well, I sha’n’t do it—you’re goin’
home.”
“I’m not going up that mountain
to-day, Ben Becket; not one step! So
if you won’t take I shall go alone.”
As Ben finished tying up one of her
hands, she pulled the waterproof hood
over her head, pushed her her loosened hair
into it and took up satchel.
Ben tried hard to be stern aud unre¬
lenting, but a look in the pale, scratched
face, still full of determination, was too
much for him.
“All right, then, Allie, I’ll take you;
sit on here."
He shook the snow from the buffalo
robe and placed it on the sled.
They soon reached the foot of the moun¬ 1
tain, and then Ben took the rope around
his waist and started for thestqfion, now
but a short distance away.
The “station” was simply a large box,
where trains did not stop unless sig¬
naled, but the conductor ol the train
fortunately saw Ben hurrying over the
icy ground, pulled the bell-rope and
stopped the triin.
“Weil, youngster,” said he, “why
didn’t you take a team, or wait for a
pleasant day?” bandages Allie’s
Then seeing the on
hands, one of which pressed a handker¬
chief to her smarting cheek, he stepped
from the platform with a sympathetic
expression on his kind old face.
“How did it happen? Where is she
going?” he asked in a breath.
Ben hurriedly explained.
“You’ll look out for her, conductor,
won’t you?” aiked the boy, anxiously;
‘ ‘she’s most used up. I’d go with her if
there was any way of getting word to
mother, but she’d worry if I didn’t get
home.”
“I’ll look out for her—my wife is on
the train, and”she’ll take care of her,”
said the conductor, as he helped Allie up
the car steps.
Ben turned wearily to his trip up the
mountain.
“Here, Jane, is a patient for you,”
said the conductor, Mr. Price, introduc¬
ing her to his wife.
“Why, you poor child,” the lady ex¬
claimed, when Allie was seated opposite
her.
“It’s nothing but my fingers,madam,” tbe
said Allie, somewhat embarrassed by
lady’s kindness. “Just fix my right
hand fingers, please, to keep them from
getting stiff.”
“Oh, they won’t get stiff my child;
or if they do it’ll be only for a day or
two.”
“Yes, but they mustn’t get stiff to¬
day, I don’t care about to morrow. You
see I’m going to Harwood to compete
for the scholarship, and I must be able
to write, of course; penmanship may de¬
cide the contest if two papers show equal
merit, so that’s why it won’t bo of any
use to have my fingers limber to-morrow
if they’re stiff to-day.”
Mrs. Price took Allie to her own house,
for a short rest, when the train reached
Harwood, and then sent her to the place
where the competition was to take place,
refreshed and ready to do her best.
In two or three weeks the “notifica¬
tion” came to Allie, the notification ol
the award which each competitor was to
receive, and Ben said as he came up from
the postoifice with it, “Here’s your big
envelope.”
He said it somewhat superciliously.
Ben had never had so much confidence in
his sister’s ability as the rest of the
family; bat he changed his mind very
shortly, for the notification was a per¬
sonal one, to the effect that Miss Alice
Becket was the winner of the scholar
ship. added
It is now five years since Allie
M. D. to her name, and- the little farm
on the mountain-top, if it does not yield
better crops, is the home of a more pros¬
perous family than it was on that cold
winter morning when Ben was tricked
into early rising.
Alice comes home as often as she can
be spared from her practice, and she
never passes the point where the hill
road broadeus out into Denman’s pasture
without thinking how narrowly she es¬
caped death-when she was setting out Com¬ to
win her scholarship.— Youth's
panion.
SELECT SIFTINGS.
The greater portion of the ocean bed
is pitch dark.
An octogenarian who lives six miles
west of Moberly, Mo., was baptized the
other day by bis gTandson.
In some foreign cities there are men
hired to attract a crowd to their em¬
ployers’ windows by staring and gazing,
into them.
An Englishman wagered that he and
another would consume a bushel of po¬
tatoes in half an hour. He won the bet.
The “other” was a pig.
When Ben Jonson ejected a bit of hot
potato from his mouth at' dinner, he
turned to the hostess swallowedit!” and saidji “Madam,
a fool would have
A resident of Antelope Valley, Ncv.,
reports thousands of wild horses ranging
on the mountain plateau near his home.
It is almost impossible to raise a band of
tame horses in that section, because they
join the wild herd.
Blankets are loaned to the poor, dur¬
ing the winter months, free of cost, by a
kind-hearted citizen in Brunswick, Ger¬
many. They are stamped, to prevent
them from being sold or pawned, and
they are returned at the close of the cold
weather.
An Egyptian scythe, recently un¬
earthed, is exhibited among the antiqui¬
ties in the private museum of Flinders
Petrie, in Loudon, England. The shaft
of the instrument is wood, supporting a
row of flint saws, which are securely
cemented into it.
A monster egg is exhibited in the mu¬
seum at Buda-Pesth, Hungary. It is an
egg of the prehistoric bird lepiornis, and
but few museums possess such a speci¬
men!’ 148 hen’s eggs would find room in
it and it would hold nearly nine quarts,
jt was found in 1850 in Madagascar.
The British Government is placing a
tablet in Westminster Hall, London, to
mark the spot where King Charles I.
stood when ho was on trial for his life.
The more interesting controversy knelt as to
whether the-King lay down or
down to be beheaded remains to be set¬
tled.
The word “guerilla” is Spanish, and
means, literally, a little war, or a baby
war. Hence its application to necessarily partisan
or irregular warfare, which is
carried on in a weak and spasmodic man¬
ner, and which invariably degenerates at
last into mere robbery. Guerillas ordi¬
narily do not have the courtesies or
amenities of war extended to them.
Wljen the young Siamese Prince, now'
in London, England, passed one of his
examinations, some years ago, he tele¬
graphed the glad news to his father. In
response the King of 3iatn telegraphed:
“It is well. Two hundred have been
sacrificed.” There has always been con¬
siderable doubt whether the “two hun¬
dred” represented wives, captives or fat
bullocks.
At a Japanese marriage ceremony
neither bride nor bridegroom wears any
clothing of a purple color, lest their
marriage tie be soon loosed, as purple is
the color most liable to fade. Another
superstition of the Japs is that a room
should never be swept out immediately
after one of the inmates hag set out upon
a journey; if so his luck will be swept
oat with him.
SOMETHINGS LOVE ME,
i All witnin and all without ma
Feel a melancholy thrill;
And'tbe darkness hangs about
Oh, how still;
To my feet the river glideth
Through the shadow, sullen, dark;
On the stream the white moon rideth.
Like a barque—
And the linden leans above me,
Till I think some things there ba
In this dreary world that love me,
Even me!
Gentle buds are blooming near me,
Shedding sweetest breath around;
Countless voices rise, to cheer me,
From the ground;
And the lone bird comes—I hear it
In the tall and windy pine
Pour the sadness of its spirit
Into mine;
There it swings, and sings above mo.
Till I think some things there be
In this dreary world that love me,
Even me!
Now the moon hath floated to me,
On the stream I see it sway,
Swinging, boat-like, as’t would woo mo
Far away—
And the stars bend from the azure,
I could reach them where I lie.
And they whisper all the pleasure
Of the sky.
Thera they hang and smile above me;
Till I think some things there be,
In the very heavens that love me,
Even met
— T. B. Read , in Analostan Magazine.
HUMOR OF THE DAY.
There Is a vast difference between liv¬
ing simply and simply living.— St. Joseph
Newis.
Soldiers see a great deal of private life,
but they don’t enjoy it .—Pittsburg Des¬
patch.
The only man contented with his lot
occupies it in the cemetery .—Indianapolis
Journal.
When it is an advantage to tiade posts,
every army officer is ready to become a
post trader .—Texas Siftings.
Experience has established the fact
that lawsuits are more wearing on a man
than any other .—Boston Courier.
She—“What would you like—being a
naval man—for a birthday gift?” He—
“Alittle smack.”— Drake's Magazine.
If smokeless powder is followed will by
gunless bullets, wais of the future
be made easy .—New Orleans Picayune.
The teacher whacked the boy, one day.
Who disobeyed the rule.
The scholars did lamm not in laugh school. or play
To see that
—Harvard Lampoon.
Miss Burdy—“Yes, I will be yours on
one condition.” Jack Junior—“That’s
all right. I entered Yale with six.”—
Yale Record.
Mike—“Why do now?” them Pat—“Shure, false eyes be
made of glass, could throo ’em,ye
an’ how else they say
thick-head ?”—Yale Record.
After one girl has given you the sack
and another the mitten, it is time to give
up trying to gain your suit on the instal¬
ment plan .—Halifax Critic.
Hilow-—“Look look here, Bloobum
per, I wouldn’t be a fool if I were you.”
Bloobumper—“No; if you were me you
wouldn’t be a fool.”— Epoch.
“Pa, what is an auction!” “An auc¬
tion, my son, is a place where a man pays
an exorbitant price for something he
ion’t want and can’t use.”— Epoch.
Life drives us till we’re out of breath
We With have striving, work begging, ourselves giving, death
to to
That we may get a living.
—Chicago Post.
“Suggest a motto for my new business
venture, will you, Miss Agnes?" “What farm.”
is the business?” “A dairy
“Then suppose you take‘let well alone’.”
—The Jester.
Quericus—“How does your friend ex¬
pect to derive any benefit from being
elected an honorary member of the foot¬
ball team?” Frettiwit—“He’s a doctor.”
—Chicago News.
Wibble—“Yes, I believe in the office
seeking the man.” Wabble—“I notice
that it usually has to seek the boy. At
least that is the case in my office.”—
Indianapolis Journal.
A book agent—he came inside:
He stuck to the man like glue,
But spite of all hints and nods and winks.
Never lett till ho got throw.
—Chicago Globe.
Giles—“I’m glad I let that fellow have
the small loan. He seemed overwhelmed
with gratitude and said he could never
repay me.” Merritt—“That was strange.
He told you the truth.”— Chisago News.
“You are the light of my life,” she
said to him as she told him good-night
at the front door. “Put out that light,"
growled her father at the head of the
stairs, and the front door slammed.—
Washington Star.
“Let us see, a cynic is a man w’ho is
tired of the world, is lie not?” the young
language student asked. “No, no, my
child,” replied the knowing tutor. “A
cynic is a man of whom the world is
tired .”—Milwaukee Sentinel.
The optimist sees but the ro3es of life,
Tbe thorns meet the pessimist’s view.
But the sensible man with an eye to the
facts .
Notes and knows how to handle the two.
—Philadelphia Press.
“I see that in the preface of your
book you say that it is written to fill a
long-felt want. What do you mean by
that?” “Why, I’ve been needing a
square meal for the last eighteen months.
Don’t you call that a long-felt want
Chicago News.