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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.