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THE THREE FISHERS. Three Ssherfi went ?a ling ont into the west, Oat into the west as the sun went down ; Each thought on the woman who loved him best, And the children stood watching them out of the town; For men must work and women must weep. And therv’e little to earn, and many to keep, Though the harbor bar be moaning. Three wives sat up in the light-house tower, And they trimmed the lamps as tne sun want down; They looked at the squall, and they looked at the shower, igbt-rack came rolling up ragged and brown 1 But men must work and women must weep, Though storms be sudden and waters deep, And the harbor bar be moaning. Three corpse lay out on the shining sands, In the morning gleam as the sun went down, And the women are weeping and wringing their hands For those who will never come back to the town ; For men must work and women must weep. And the sooner it’s over the sooner we sleep— And good-bye to the bar and its moaning. A LiNl) Or SNOW. A party of gentlemen lounging over tlieir wine at Delmonico’s and ponder ing hew they should kill the interven ing hours between dinner and the late ■or early period assigned ior sleep, found sleighing indispensable— a pre cious becauee^xtrem e 1 v rare sprinkling of snow upon the avenue must be en joyed. The only question was how best to enjoy it. “How would it do,” said young Browne, “ to go for the country mate rial—three feet of the solid, you know, no grinding over dirt and stones, or slushing through mud and mire—jnst a regular old-fashioned sweep through a cloudy landscape, the trees and tops of hedges dressed all in white for ns, and a nice little glint of rose-color in the evening sky ? Eh? how about that, boys ?” “And stop at a comfortable inn,” said Smythe, “ with gables and sloping roof, the out houses painted a glowing red, wherein our panting steeds could rest and partake of home-raised oats, while we, perchance, within the hospit able portal, might ‘ trip the light fan tastic ’ with some beautiful child of nature, innocent of rouge or pearl pow der, where a felicitous sentence might bring forth the rara avi/i of a veritable blush? Eh ? what do you say to that?” But Robinson dallied with his glass, now held it to the light, then put it down untasted, or sipped a little from its brim. “ Not any for me,” he said at last. “ I’ve been through all that, and ex hausted it.” Browne and Smythe looked at each other significantly. “ Would it be indiscreet to ask when and where ?” “I will tell 50U the story, gentle men,” said Eobinson, “because it has a moral.” “Hear ! hear ! they cried, and tapped pon the table with gentle irony. “ It was a land of snow,” began Eob inson, “ where the houses were scat tered far and wide, and many an acre loomed between, with scarcely a land mark to guide the weary pilgrim on his way. The trees mostly of pine and fir, their scraggy branches half hidden in avalanches of snow. The whole landscape was waste and sterile, and unutterably sad. How and when and where I found myself on that wild night, wrapped in robes of fur and buffalo skins, a pair of noble grays bearing me over this artificial surface of the earraf, it matters not, nor has aught to do with my story. “ At last I reached this veritable inn of which you spoke, with gables and peaks, dormer-windows and quaint tur rets, and wide oaken doors through which I passed with greatfulness, and a sense of infinite rest and ease. “ After a substantial supper I went out to the stables to see how my travel spent beasts were faring, and found that there had been some fresh arrivals. A rude and almost gigantic sled upon heavy oaken runners barred my passage, and on all sides I found a variety of home-made vehicles, of all sizes and shapes, filled with blankets of white and scarlet wool, home-spun coverlets, and sheep-skins. “ An old French hostler busied him self in dexterously untying the leather thongs that constituted most of the harness. “ There fell upon my ear a faint twanging in the distance, snggestive of a stringed instrument. “‘Dancing?’ I exclaimed to the hostler. “ ‘ But yes,’ he replied ; ‘in truth, it is the dance.’ “ ‘ Within there ? ’ I pursued, point ing to the house. “ ‘ Without doubt,’ he answered, and I hastened in the direction of this phan tom music. Making my way through a dimly lighted corridor, with many a subtie turn and tortuous declivity and height, guided alone by thenow distinct scraping of a violin, I at length found myself in a spacious, low-ceiled apart ment immediately under the peaked roof, of the whole breadth of the hos telry. A quantity of candles in tin sconces cast a flickering light upon the scene, and moving hither and thither in the mazes of a singular country a- _ice were about a score of rustics, of a class of humanity altogether strange and new to me—a race of Titans, strong of limb, with muscles of iron and sinews of steel, a bovine cast of feature, mild and rn minating, with eyes wide apart, straight , noses, expanded nostrils, and lips cuived like those of a Grecian statue. “I watched them for a time move slowly and with a rude dignity through an intricate dance, which left one couple almost hidden in the darkness of a far corner. Suddenly this couple came swiftly down to the centre of the group, and stood almost directly before me. “ It is with these we have to do, gen tlemen One of them—the lady, if I may call her thus—was the most beau tiful creature I ever saw. So young sbe seemed to me, I involuntarily smiled upon a child. She wore a simple bodice over a blue petticoat. Her arms and neck were covered by a chemise puffed and starched, and white as the snow it was bleached upon. Her hair, only bound bv a chain and silver arrow, fell far below her waist. Its color was hard to define, but seemed, in the smoky glare of the candies, a yellowish, creamy white. ■ Her feet, beneath her petticoat. Like little mice, stole in and out, m * * ★ * And oh. sbe danced it such a way, So “tin upon an Ka-ter day. Was ba!f so fine a eight.’ “ Yes, gentlemen, she was a theme for poesy. I watched her with mats bat expressive admiration, so that when her eyes met mine I fancied there grew a gentle recognition in them. She looked up to her Titanic partner and smilingly drew his attention to me. I can net describe the benevolent patron -1 age of his manner when, as if taking pity upon my loneliness, and apparently pleased with my evident appreciation of the lovely being that seemed in some way to belong to him, he brought her to my side, and with noble hospi tality left her, as he said, to beguile the time of the stranger. Good fellow that he was, I hope this kindly trust be trayed did not impair his simple faith in humanity. “‘Her name is Lulu,’he said, ‘and mine Jean.’ “ And while I cast about for some thing to say to this little maiden in the ! patois of her country, she began her self, in a voice sweet, low, and sonor ous : “ It is, then, your sleigh in the stable below? How beautiful it is! It is shaped like a wild goose, and so light I j can lift it, even I! And the skins they ■ frightened me, they were so like pretty, crouching animals; one of them had eyes, in truth, and mocked me as I peeped into the sleigh. And the horses, they are like deer, so small are their ! heals, and so slim their legs. Jean laughed at them. He said they were good for naught but to take in one’s | arms and pat like a kitten.’ ; “ ‘ There your Jean is wrong,’ I said, quickly, not overpleased at this simple irony. ‘They are good to get, over these dreary wastes of yours, and I wish you could just once enjoy a ride behind them, and know what swiftness means.’ “‘ I wish I could,’ she said, ‘under the pretty skins, and all the lovely sil ver bells jingling.” “ ‘ Why can’t we?’ I pleaded, coax ingly pressing the little ungloved fin gers in my own. ‘We could get back again before our friends would find out we were gone, and then you could tell Jean how wrong he was.’ “An arch smile moved her beautiful lips and brightened the depths of her solft black eyes ; her foot tapped upoD the sanded floor, and her white hand fluttered in mine. It was the sweetest moment of uncertainly with which I had ever aught to do. “ ‘Come, Lulu,’ I whispered. ‘You don’t know how happy it would make me.’ “ ‘And I, too,’ she said, looking up in my face with innocent candor. ‘ I also would be happy.’ “It was probably the first temptation offered to this child of nature. She yielded to it with guileless enthusiasm. “Shortly after we were bounding over the snow with the speed of the wind. My gallant grays, rested and re freshed, and seemingly conscious of the lovely burden they bore, so swiftly flew along that at times we ware lifted from the surface of the earth and drawn in mid-air, while I tugged at the reins and endeavored to restrain their ardor. “Lulu’s eyes shone like lambent stars ; her hair floated out on the night wind. “Are you happy, Lulu ?” I said. “‘But yes,’ sue replied, quickly. ‘ And you ?’ “ ‘All, Lulu,’ I began, a hundred de lights pleading ior utterance; but in that supreme moment of ffoy I wfis checked by a group of fir'trees tliat rose before me, immediately barring our further progress. They were strangely unfamiliar. Afar in the dis tance I saw, the shadowy outline of a forest. I reined in the panting animals. My heart grew cold within me. An icy dread paralyzed for a moment even thought and feeling I had mistaken the way. We were lost! And to be lost in this Canadian waste was simply death in a slow, torturing, terrible form. “To turn back and traverse the way that it seemed we had come was my first effort. “‘Yes, we will return,’ said Lulu, beginning already to tremble with a vague fear. ‘Jean will become anx ious.’ “Alas for poor Jean ! he was at that moment scouring the white desert in search of ns, the prey of a bitter fear. “ I watched every object that lifted itself above the surface of the snow, but could recognize none, and became pain fully aware that perhaj s every stride of the horse took us further from the hos telry. “To add to my terror, the vapor in the atmosphere melted into snow, and soon we were blinded by drifts that blew across our patli and drove the now wearied horses back upon their haunches. “Lulu had long ago divined the sit uation, and said no word of reproach, sorrow or fright, but sat, dear child, quite still, while the white torrent fell upon her beautiful hair and stiffened the border of her hood. So white and rigid she looked, she might have been carved from the snow about us. “The only work that fell from her sweet lips was the one that also tugged at my heart, filling it with the bitter ness of a vain remorse ‘Jean!’ mur mured the poor child; and two big tears fell from her eyes and froze upon the hard, stiff hairs of the buffalo skin. “I do not know what mad words of regret and sorrow I poured out at her feet, but I remember still the womanly eagerness with which she took all blame upon herself, and strove to infuse hope into my fainting heart. “ The air grew sharp and chill; the light of the moon was dimmed by the storm ; and the wind, gathering fierce ness and strength, beat louder and louder in the fir trees, aDd writhed and shrieked in their skeleton branches. The snow came down as I never saw it come down before ; and there in the drilts and the freezing air, alone and lost, were Lulu and I and my splendid grays. “ The winds grew stronger, the drifts grew deeper, and at last floundered down the poor horses ; and while I urged with panting breath and gentle cut of the whip, everything was growing dim about me ; my hands were numb ; a sharp bond cut into my very brain. I heaid, as in a dream, the voice of Lulu, who, delicate Bnd beautiful as she was, could stand this torture better than I, for she was bom and reared in this wide snow desert. “ The last thing I remember was drawing oat my pistol, and, like one crazed with a last hope, firing it into the air. “ Then, losing all power of will, I sank back into the sleigh, now filled with snow, and heard, fainter and fainter, the gentle voice of Lulu—felt like an enraptured ghost, the soft caress of her bauds, and her breath 011 my frozen cheek. “It would have been then a merciful death to die, could I have known that Lulu would have at least been safe 011 the good heart of Jean ; but my last sweet dream of consciousness was poi soned by the thought of the bitter and lonely death I had brought to this poor child. “Of course, gentlemen, I did not die, or I should not have been here to tell you this tale with a moral. When I awoke to consciousness I found myself in a huge bed, almost smothered in coverlets of elder-down, and a faint idea that I was being manipulated into some plastic material by an iron hand, led me to open my eyes and find bend ing over me the noble face of Jean. ‘Calm thyself, friend,’ in answer to my broken entreaties ; ‘ Lulu is strong and well, and brewing for thee some soup to put strength into thy poor body. When, thanks to the great God, we beard thy firing, and at last found you, Lulu was able to speak and move, but thou wert as oue frozen. And one of thy grays is dead in the stable yon der ; the other I fear me will not see the dawn of day. Thou sliouldst not have ventured thus with those puny steeds—it was unwise!’ That was all of reproaches I received from this noble gentleman. I leave you to imagine my remorse, gratitude, and the subsequent vows I made when, through the kind ness of Jean, I was restored to civiliza tion.” “But,” said Browne, “we needn’t go to the wilds of Canada to find three feet of snow!” “I thought yon spoke of a child of nature ?” said Eobinson. “ Well ?” interrogated Smythe. “ There is not the article you de scribed within the limit of the United States.” An Important Treaty Ratified. In accordance with a joint resolution of congress, approved June 17, 1874, and due notice given to the government of Belgium, through the United States minister at Brussels, on the Ist of July, 1874, the treaty of commerce and nav igation which was concluded between the United States and the king of the Belgians in 1858 will terminate on the first of July next. In the place of it the president sent to the senate yester day, and that body ratified to-day, a new treaty, signed at Washington on the Bth inst., by Secretary Fish and the Belgian Minister, M. Delfasse. A ma jority of the articles of the treaty relat ing to commerce are copied verbatim from the treaty of 1858. Article four of the old treaty, exempting steam ves sels of both countries from tonnage, anchorage, buoys and light-house du ties, is omitted from the now. A provision has been added to the most favored nation article, giving either of the high constructing parties the right to terminate the article and obligation at any time by giving ono year’s notice. The tallowing new arti cle, m regard t<4 trade marks, has also been added, and is of especial interest to American merchants and manufac turers : Article 15. The high contracting par ties, desiring to secure complete and efficient protection to the manufactur iug industry of the respective citizens, agree that any counterfeiting in one of the two countlies of the trade marks affiixed in the other on merchandise to show its origin and quality shall be strictly prohibited, and shall give ground ior an action of damages in favor of the injured party, to be pros ecuted ill the courts of the country in which theconnterfeiting shall beproved. The trade marks in which cit.zens of one of the two countries may wish to secure the right of property in the other must be lodged, to wit: The marks of citizens of the United States at Brussels, in the office of the clerk of the tribunal of commerce, and the marks of Belgian citizens, at the patent office at Washington. It is understosd that if a trade mark has become public property in the country of its origin, it shall be equally free to all in the other country. The most favored article of the treaty called forth a little discussion, but the treaty was ratified without any real op position. New Treatment of Cancer. Anew and wonderful application ol alcohol has recently been made in the treatment of tumors and cancer. 1 Schwalbe, of Weiuheim, has reported 100 cases of various forms of indolent j glandular swellings treated successfully by the subcutaneous injection of the tincture of iodine. Latterly he has used injections of simple alcohol in fifty similar cases, and lias found the results equally favorable and the time required for a cure no greater, and he therefore concludes that the alcohol is the essential remedial agent. He ex plains its curative action as follows : It establishes a state of chronic inflam- i mation in the connective tissue, caus- ; ing it to contract by degrees, and thus pressure is brought upon the vessels a> and the lympibaties are obliterated. | These effects, and the consequent hard- ! ening of the connective tissue, he pro proposes to utilize in the treatment o other tumors, and reports the cure of j fatty tumors by the use of such injec ' tions, to which some ether was added j in order to dissolve the fat. He finds, i however, the most importdnt applies- i tion of iiis plan in the treatment of cancer by preventing its extension to the neighboring tissues and lymphatic glands. The turner is first to be iso lated, as it were, by causing the con- j nective tissue on all sides of it to be- . come shriveled Then the contractive > connective tissue, approaching the growth itself, presses upon it, cuts off its blood supply, and so causes it to j disappear by atrophy. Lymphatic i glands which are already affected are to ; be similarly treated. Schwalbe, with ; Dr. Hasse, claims to have cured three cases of cancer of the breast in this j way. j FACTS FKOM ALL SOURCES. According to the agricultural re turns of 1874, there has been an increase instead of decrease in the stock of horses in Great Britain. The total number of horses is 367,000. The in crease during the past five years is 66,- 000. The excess in 1874 over the num ber returned for 1873 is 35,000. These figures plainly demonstrate that the scarcity pi equine stock so loudly com plained of is mainly owing to the greater demand* Thu Ifultz wheat grown the past sea son upon ihe experimental farm of the Pennsylvania agricultural college, at West Grove, Chester county, Pa., has yielded at the rate of forty-two bushels to the acre. The next highest products were the Brittpuy and red wheat, 37 44- 60 bushels ; Bough and Ready, 34 52- (50, and Wiiite Chaff Mediterranean, 34 40 60 bushels. The Alabama agricultural college and a committee of cotton planters have established an experimental station, near Wheeler’s station, in the northern part of the state. Eleven acres are to be divided into plats of one-eighth of an acre each, on which experiments are ! to be tried with thirty different kinds or qualities of manure, and then repeated on subsoiled land. A Michigan man has raised five lem ons on a tree which he keeps in a hot house. It took four tons of coal, and he sold the lemons for twenty cents. He js going to enlarge his building so as hi A 'so oranges and bananas. South America is the paradise of thistkjs. They are large enough to af ford shade for cattle, and are sufficient ly tall to afford protection to highway- with their horses hide behind then. Empty oyster and fruit cans are not of much value, but if the cap to them bo melted off, and tha cans otherwise uninjured they may be put to use. It is a good plan to fill them with lard for summer use. The Kansas City Price Current al ready has information that 69,500 head of Tt xas cattle are to be driven to that place this season, and thinks the total drive will equal that of 1874. The Wisconsin granges already have established 41 co-operative associations for selling goods, and mnnufactnrilng, and 29 insurance companies ; all flour ishing, and representing capital to the amount of $4,000,000. In England the small farmars are forming clubs for the purchase of short horned bulls to improve tlieir stuck. Their example might profitably be fob ■ lowdd in this country. MOISTURE AT WILL. M. Parar is said to be tiie discoverer of a way of doing without rain, if neces sary. He knew that the air is full of moisture, and he knew that chloride of calcium would attract aad coudonse it forcaltnring purposes. He lias applied this chloride on sand lulls and road bods, on grass, on all sorts of soils, suc cessfully, and he lias ascertained that it may be applied in such proportions as will produce the irrigation of laud more cheaply and efficiently than by means of canals or other methods of securing artificial irrigation. One of Mr, Parar’s applications will produce and retain abundant moisture for three days, when the same amount ol water introduced by the present method will iu an hour. He believes that, preparation will net only produce two blades of grass to grow where but one now grows, but that it will render possible fields, meadows, aud prosperi ty, where now there is nothing but sand and desert waste. " CHARCOAL KILN. To a correspondent who asked for in formation about building a kiln for charcoal-burning, The New York Times replies : Pale or soft brick will not answer for ebarcoal kiln. Only well burned hard brick can be used, as the wear and tear is considerable. The common shape of those kilns is conical, or that of an old-fashioned bee-hive, or as nearly as possible the shape of an o-dinary “charcoal-pit.” It is most economical to make them of large size, abo it.twenty-four feet in diameter and the flame in height. The walls are a brick and a half thick for ten feet up, and |i brick thick for the remainder. Such' a kiln will cost SI,OOO, with the iron doors and bauds to strengthen it, andywill hold forty cords of wood, yielding about 1,600 bushels of coal at each burning. Charcoal is worth twen ty-five cents a bushel in New York. SUGAR REETH. Acorrespondentof The Indiana Farm er writes: “I have raised sugar beets on a small scale for several years, witli very satisfactory results, as they are eaten in the winter by almost all kinds of stock with great avidity, and are an exc-llent substitute for crass, prevent ing costiveness, and keeping uj a good appetite. They are rich in saccharine matter, and economical food, as they produce enormous crops on suitable land, when well cultivated. The most suitable land for them is a rich, loamy soil, somewhat clayey, either naturally dry or well-drained. They should he drilled in rows, three feet apart, in soil fine!i* pulverized. They should be drilled jEkir or five inches apart in the rovfs, irfl when well started, thinned out to fen inches apart, 0 lltivate thor oughly three or four times with a one horsi- cultivator, after which, pull out by hat and any weeds that may remain or that may start after the cultivation is done. If the season is favoiable you will get from 600 to 800 bushels per acre. CONCERNING CROCKERY. When buying crockery, it is poor economy to buy an inferior article be cause it-can be purchased at one third less price. A first-class article of porce lain will out-wear many inferior piece", and stiff preserve its freshness. It never absorbs stale odors, no matter how many times heated. It does not crackle bv usage, thus marring its beauty. Neither is it as liable to break : when 4;sed harshly. Too hot water poured over dishes, when cleaning i them, is a very injurious practice. ; Dishes should be washed in suds, and if the rinsing should never be | too hot. to hear the band. Hard-boil ing wat r poured from the tea kettle over dirty dishe, is a slovenly practice, which will soon tell its taie m cabalistic , characters all over the face of the ' crockery. PATCHING BOYS* CLOTHES. A motherly woman writing in the 1 Christian Monitor, declares that she fully agrees with any thoughtful woman who spares her boys the humiliation of wearing great round or triangular patches, when her own skill and a gen j erons supply of pieces mako the re j seated pants look almost as well as new J ones. May they hold her iu grateful rememberanee, long after they shall I have outlived the era of torn trousers. | She suggests that when pants need re- I pairing over the knee, it is a good way : to rip the seems each side of the worn part, cut it out and insert anew piece, pressing it nicely before closing the side seam again. Neither boy nor man need be ashamed to wear garments neatly patched if it be necessary, and every girl should be taught that mend ing well is an essential part of domes tic economy. WASHING HOUSE THANTS. The following is from that excellent English journal, Land and Water : Have a large pail or tub filled with warm soap-suds; then spreading the finger and the palm of the left hand over the soil in the pot, turn the branches topsy-turvy into the warm soap-suds, swing the plant briskly in the water till every leaf has become completely saturated, then put it through a pail of clean water and rub each leaf with the thumb and finger ; give it a good shake aud when dry re turn it to its place in the'window. The leaves of a plant are its lungs, each leaf being furnished with hundreds of minute pores, whence the plants breathe in carbon aud exhalo oxygen. The perspiration of plants is said to be seventeen times that of the human body. Many plants never bloom on account of tlie accumulation of dust upon their leaves. A plant too large to be laid down in a tub as above de scribed may be syringed, and each leaf rubbed clean with the finger and thumb, which are better for this purpose than a brush or cloth. eulogy ®p the toad. The editor of The American London writes thus of a creature not famed for its beauty : The toad—although universally despised and upbraided for his ugliness—is yet a useful, good natured, quiet fellow, who recognizes his friends and those who aie kind to him. We have some half dozen of them in our small garden, and among them ono old patriarch who, when we are digging or hoeing, will sit winking and blinking at us with his pretty eyes, and often compel us to lift or drive liim aide to get him out of harm’s way. He will Htay by us for hours, evidently feeling that he need fear no hurt. Like the sparrow, the toad has been consid ered a nuisance, and in somo sections exterminated ; but the exterminators have been only too glad, afterward, to get him back by the expenditure of large sums of money. So useful are toads in gardens that they are sold in France by the dozen, for the purpose of stocking gardens to free them from many injurious insects. The toad lives almost entirely on winged insects, and never does harm to the plant, ULOTUHEITE. Tlie 1.1 1 lc Story of o l.ilflo Song. “ Kpiuning was young Oloehotte, Oamo fond youth to woo; HI 10 was a sad ooquetto, Long golden lashes fringe a ptffr of woft blno eyas: and on tho brouth of tho summer night is borne, in a froHh, ten der young voice, tho words of the little song. Tho girl eyes know very well that a pair of dark masculine orbs are shining directly down upon them, striving to discover by flutter of lash or tremor of lid, some answer to the question those same brown eyes have asked over and over, iu their dumb, mute language. But the white lids are quite unmoved, and the song goes on iu the sweet, pure voice: “ ‘Clocbotto, Clochfitto, You drive me far from you. Clochotto, Clochette, I come to way adieu!” “Well chosen, Mils Nelly, inter rupts tile owner of the dark brown eyes, bending lower as he adds : “ You have selected a most appropriate song for my last evening at Cedar Croft.’ “You like it, then?” answers Nelly Allen, playing the accompaniment solt ly, and continuing in a mocking voice, “ I thought it apropoH ; one who bears the title of ‘flirt,’ can, I suppose, read ily understand the feelings of a * co quette’ as well 1” “ Yon confound or transpose the po sitions, Miss Nelly," returnd Harry Rand, warmly. “ I assure you, it is with tiie deepest emotion of the ‘ fond youth ’ that I most sympathize, for I, too, come to say adieu 1 ” “Adieu!”—and there is apathetic tone in her echo of the sad worth Then, with a quick toss of the golden head, and a beaming smile, Nelly Allen changes the tone instantly and answers witfi a laugh: “ And you think I really believe you are going away—you, who have cried ‘ wolf ’ so often that no one heeds any more ? I regret that I can show no ap propriate grief at the announcement, but indeed I cannot get out a tear. I am not a bit sorry, for—yon won’t go!” Aral with a dash the little wfiite hands fly over the keys in a wild waltz. A cloud gathers over the dark eyes, and the husky voice threatens a storm as it whispers hoarsely : “ notJ[ care!—And is this all yon mi". Veil;/ - Am to go 1 - I'l-, ."'i sorry , 1 • ■ "voy . and IIiShUH "1 .. i,gi..-t Mi Jm 1 H”!”; i I Pppilsplppil I ' .1" 'M- •m i ; ' 9 . qH '. witrr i o • eh<-, olrom- M 1 i‘z 1 i'l mow • 9HHB /i.o'-i P'lM'-o !.■ 1 tne piano desk. ® j to i.er-.elf. “D >es he ‘ ■ ' r;. v hHßigillll I '-I' '• no, 4 I W<q,’t JSMgjjii will you marry me ?’ instead of looking unutterable things out of his big, beau tiful brown eyes, and saying nothing when tho time arrives to part but ‘ adieu ?’ Oh, I hate him—there 1” And a fresh burst of tears showers down on the white keys. Very cool and stately indeed Princa Harry stalks off; but there is a smart ing wound beneath his armor that stings aud pains beyond relief. “That I should fall in love with so heartless a coquette 1” he mutters to himself as he paces up aud d< wn tho garden-walk. “ She cares 1.0 me than she does for tl e .f of tho foolish moths that flit area: :he flan > of her sweet smiles an< pretty ways. Girls are cruel creature they plaa, fast and loose with a man- heart, cat trilling with a ui c. Yet, f best that 1 should go tv.i.y " in-re I- hall ncv. I'HB her again.” S'il't strain music fiotu's the and ' M ! fll ' , , , [-S'y 11 1 mate. " ini , and the wcHaBjSM •• j.-.ii was yning Uloohette, I ni'Vi'il in h.a heart. ’ in "in .'’l'viictto ('llU'liettl'.' Sho only Haiti adieu !” “Oil I—oh ! —oh I”—and sob after sob follow tho last words, with the swoet head again fallen low. Swifter than arrow from huuter’s bow there rushes through the darkness, into the moonlighted room, a tall, dark figure ; and kneeling beside tlio golden fleece-hid, tear-stained face, a voica whispors passionately: “Will you forgive my hasty temper and harsh words, Nellie darling ?—Aud will you boliove mo when I say that I love yon with all my heart, and ask you to bo my wife? Let me kiss those tears away 1 Look at me, darling, and answer mo truly : You do care for me a little, do yc-u not ?” Tho tears are all wiped away—ono by ono ; tho blue eyes are lifted up to meet the brown ones; and Nelly answers after a littlo while, sancy as ever : “Now that you have asked the ques tion, sir, I will answer, Yes. How could I answer without being ques tioned, pray? Girls must bo wooed to be won ; we don’t like to do men’s work, if we do prate about ‘rights.’ ” “ But you acted so cold and careless of my wooing. How could I speak when yom only mocked me ?” “That is our weapon of warfare—our tongues, you know ' A lover must per sist ; a girl is never so nearly won as when she acts as I did. A lover must be bold ; ‘Faint heart,’ you know, and all that.” “ Then tho Romans were model lovers, when they carried off the Babble women, I suppose,” laughs Harry. “Certainly they were; and didn’t they win model wives ? For who set tled the difficulties between tlieso two peoples but the wives ?—something tho men had never accomplished, andniTer would have done till doomsday.” “ What a dear little Sabine you would have boon, Nell,” says Harry—now, by way of an attempt at playing Roman, closely embracing his fiancee. “And what a lazy Roman you would have made I—stopping, no doubt, iu the metee, to tell the young woman, be fore you picked her up to carry her off, that you really moant to go back to Rome somo day, if she didn’t oomo quietly, and then watching to see how she would take it, and setting her down if she objected.” “ That will do, 1 think—let’s change the subject, Nelly,” answers Harry. “There!—l’ll let you go, if you will sing mo the last verse of tho song I interrupted.” While the blue eyes look up, now, into the brown ones, answering back all the devotion they see there, tho sweet young voice takes up the strum again and sings : “ ‘ Lot me,’ lie said, * Clocliette, Tliis little lilussoin take.' Wept then this Had ooa/uette As though her heart would break.” A “break” in the melody occurs here; and the pause is filled 'bp by a sound, written for no instrument ever cata logued ; and then finish tho little song together : “‘Clochette, CloclrMK - I know now, you ov ® mo true. 9 Clotchetto, Cloehet’ We’ll never oay ad 1 ® 11 ’ j— The A Idine. jM Wolselcy on Amer^gN'UfnenA^® M . 1 1 JB J 9 JH fl ■ I jfl mkify? *.l i ■eff'i’' Lee he regarded as ini i&K mn. " " ■w jggu, M am Hl*