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MARGUERITE.
A YORKE DANCE.
Intro. 1 2 1 P. F. CAMPIGLIO
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Copyright, New York Musical Echo Co., 1894.
FOR MEN FOLKS.
ETOWAH RIVER.
(WHITTEN FOB THE SUNDAY HUBTLKB OF ROME.)
" inding through a verdant valley,
Lined on either side with fees,
Where the birds sing sweet in spring-time,
And the flowers kiss the breeze.
I silvery in the sunlight
t Glancing through the leaflets green,
“Etowah River” flows rippling onward,
With its ever-changing sheen.
Long ago my childish footsteps
__ls>ved along its banks to stray,
And I found my sweetest pleasure
In its ripples changeful play.
Dreaming of the far es future,
Dreams fulfilment never knew.
After years enhanced its beauty,
Oftime drew my willing feet,
• its dear associations
Wrih the hopes of lifs most sweet.
When I strayed beside its waters
It was not as once—alone,
And I listened to its music,
■Mog with a deep r tone.
X R^ in ” ,y footßte P 8 Hnser
«y this dear fa uiliar stream.
are <lark and ch i»ing.
Whin o* eaVCS besrrew the ground
h e the waters of the s’reamlet
Murm erwithalow,sad sound.
4 Fpm re »B°MOWinR 8 ° MOWinR with my B l ,irit ’
Uor hp *; br,Khn ' Bof DA’thours;
the days that only left me
broken dreams and faded flowers.
WltJereUs bv Ihe C 1 her ' Bhe,, ■
At the leaves ~;Z1 , ,leatb -
Perish win .* e '’ llll B P r * n S time
•th the autum i’s breath.
5 When tn intbebri Bht hereafter,
wZ n ; h s e t 'T yßitesuut ' >,d ’
Whenth lW ‘ U,in 111 « city,
■ 1 streets are paved with gold.
id2 eS ' ln,ißht Huger-,
Wo ’had seZ with eT t ' i ' ,,lSr, ‘ 8t
'’■nmel.ee Arnold.
receii'tly7 l > rT’l C, tnß to light
Continue 8u 11', Iy “ lhro,, « h the
v i c tim s a ' rlll S M its indirect
1 in.
“early th “" “ luio ''«d f „ r
•’Trkrk, r. ’° UBe •>»deliv-
with "“o n " eU kUo '‘"
• u 1a parcels for
I her number, but not her name.
The packages are always address
ed to Mrs. Horton, with the street
and number of the woman who is
not and never was Mrs. Horton,
nor has any one of that name ever
lived at the address indicated.
The parcels are always C. O. D.
and are of various merchandise.
One afternoon last week a large
basket of crockery, packed in ex
cel&or, was unpacked in her base
ment area, while the maid brought
up to her mistress the C. O. D.
bill.
Notice had been given to the
different stores of the transaction,
and shop-keepers have been re
quested not to forward that combi
nation of name and address, and
C: O- 1). element, but at irregular
intervals they continue to come,
eluding the watchfulness of the
deliveryl'iepartn ent.
Lateral night and early in the
morning these mysterious packages
appear, and, though they are al
ways promptly returned, tb< r
seems to be no way to stop them.
The only plausible supposition is
that the mythical “Mil Horton”
has a mania for shopping that her
purse does not afford means to
satisfy, but wnich is thus relieved
at the expense only of tune and
trouble to other people.
FEMALE BRITISH DRUMMER i
i
The lady commercial is fas‘ he- j
coming an institution in
ham as elesewhere. She is gener
ally speaking quite as smart and
resourceful as her male compe'i
'or and her sex gives Lnr an addi
tional advantage.
Apart altogetner from th*» dif
ficul y of saying -‘No' to a woman
especially if young and handsome
the more drastic methods of get
ting rid of unwelcome importuni
ties are obviously out of the ques
tion when .the travler is of the
gentler sex.
And then of course the lady
I bound to have the last word. An
enterprising member of the frat
ternity—or should I rather say sis
hood? —called upon a local firm
the other morning.
She was assured that the stock
in her special line was full up.
“But 1 would like to show you my
samples, I’m sure you’d lack
them,” “Not today thank you.
Besides, we have no account with
your firm.’
“I know you haven’t, but yo 11
allow me to open cue won’t you?
Only a small line for a begining? - ’
“No, we p isitively don't require
anything in that way just now.’’
“Really! Well goodmorning. I'll
call again this afternoon. Gen
tlemen are generally more open to
reason when lhey have dined.’’
‘Juppose,” went on President
Hyde.lifting up his hands in horror at
the thought. “I signed myself Fred
die—Freddie Hyde,” he repeated
slowly “Imagine how that would
sound! Freddie Hyde! Why, it is pre
posterous. And yet we see gray
haired women in the department
signing themselves Gussie, Jennie
Jessie and Birdie,”
Out of al) of which has came a rule
prohibiting the use among the teach
ers of pet names in official designa
tion. Investigation disclosed that
one third of the Ciiristain names
printed in the school directory are
diminutives. Annies, Maggies Net
ties, Nellies and 0 uries, many of
them bi rne by manioc women’loug
past their youth, and, officially, they
must all go.
Rules affecting personal tastes an 1
opinions are always uupleasiut. but
ths propriety of the suggestions that
educators should cease to be "Birdr
ies” and “Essies” few will question
The reaction set in here in tne Bust
seme time ago, and the use of di niu
a 1 - - > \ 1 i"*! £:
2
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Marguerite.
utives in Signatures <»f professional I
and business women is much more
often' omitied than employe 1.
A FIN DE SIEGLE LONE STORY
Mr. Thomas Kenton and Miss
Edith Bradlaugh were both per
sons of excellent taste. One proof
of this was the regard they enter
tained for each other. But even
stronger testimony to their irre
proachable judgment was to he
found in the desire both of them
had for possessions beyond their
income.
Miss Bradlaugh, who added to
the income derived from a slender
legacy by giving a few music les
sons, was fond of silk-lined gar
ments, of dainty china, of luxu
rious travel and general ease. Mr.
Kenton, who subsisted on a salary
earned in a great architect’s office,
liked all things expensive from ci
gars to rare editions and from
London clothes to horses. Howev
er, Mr. Kenton and Miss Brad
laugh also liked each other.
Being a man, and therefore a
trifle reckless at times, Mr. Ken
ton occasionally proposed to Miss
Bradlaugh. But she always restor
ed him to reason at once.
“Have a fortune left to you,
I Tom,’’was her invariable reply,
“and I’ll marry you without de
lay. Oh, yes! I know I’m heart
less. But delightful and compan
ionable as you are, I know you’d
be very miserable and consequent
ly very unendurable if you had to
make fires and shovel snow. I
don’t want to be responsible for
the ruin of your amiable disposi
tion.”
“But you see what good times
we have now, Edith,” Tom would
protest. “We haven’t any money
and we’re as happy as clams—ex
cept when you are in the dumps.
Why can’t we marry and have it
so forever?”
“Tom, dear,” Elith would an
i :wer, in a friendly way, “you
don’t have to make the fire now;
I you would then. And I’d have to
.do numerous unpleasant things. I
hate poverty—even Bohemian
poverty. I hate packing-box book
cases an cretonne furniture, and
that’s what we’d have to have.
No. Get your fortune and I’ll
marry you then.”
, Then Tom would groan a little,
1 submit to the inevitable and con
! tinue to send her flowers and read
• with her.
One day he came up a little ear
lier than usual. He looked excit
ed.
| “Edith,” he began hurriedly,
1 “I think fortune is on its way at
i last.”
“Yes!” said Edith, cynically.
“At any rate we can be quite sure
that if there is any movement to
ward a meeting between you and
' fortune, it’s fortune that’s making
advances. Y6u are so lazy, Tom.”,
1 “You’d better listen to me in
stead of indulging your own bad
humor,” advised Tom.
“Well, tell me about the meet
ing between you and fortune,”
said Edith.
’“You know old Mr. Sedley?”
asked Tom. Edith nodded.
i “Well, he his taken a f tnev to i
j me, it eeann. II * told Grey at th >
! otficu about it. W nits Grey t> a 1
' vauce me and aU tha r . Has invib
elme to dine in that funeril old
j family mansion of his and I’ve
1 vnue. Ils likes did a lot. ami he’.
' a -art of cranky old fluff *r.’’
Tom paused. E lith eyed him
with coldly critical eyes.
“Weil,’’she said at last, “are
you building your expectations of
becoming Mr Sedley s heir on the
fact th it he has invited you to
dinner? ’
“Don't be disagreeable, E lith,”
said To<n. “Os course not But to
d:y he came to see me. He asked
inc if I was engaged and I was
obliged to «av no, owing to your
mercenary disposition. He said he
was glad because he wished to
make a proposition which he
would not feel at liberty to make
if I had ‘ties’ as In called them.
He is an honest oi l chap. He
wants me to travel with him for
two years m out-of the way places
Asia, Australia and Africa. You
will never to regret it finan
cially, he said and you will gratify
my lifelong wish. Edith, shall I
go?
Edith looked at him stupidly,
She saw before her long, dreary,
compan’onless weeks. She also
saw that Ton] had.J>;s opportunity
at last. M
"I suppose he will au?otyou,”
she said dully. - ,
perhaps,seid Tom, Shall I go on
the chance that it may lead to
something, or will you marry me
now?
Edith recovered herself.
Go where glory awaits thee, she
laughed. And when you come back
with a fortune I may be engaged
to you.
* * * *
Eighteen months later there
came a letter to Edith. It jead :
When I come back, Edith, with
a fortune, you will not bi engaged
te m“. For Mr. Sedleys s’eporoth
,ers daughter—an English girl
goes with the fortune. He has just
been talking to me ab >ut it all.
Snail I comeback fortuneless or
rich . Will you in trry me, or wont
you?
lr look E lit h just the length of
time necessary to reach the cable
office t'» the message: Come
back poor. 1 lien she retraced her
steps and thought how she disliked
homemade bookcases and cretonae
furnishings and how 'she had
pledged herself to I hem forever
more.