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MARGUERITE. A YORKE DANCE. Intro. 1 2 1 P. F. CAMPIGLIO /rA=rVf V" Vt~ * *—r*--*—K ' I H, . j I , *TI (fclzfcizzfE —l—£ztz zZ-LM'jS: VE 2 - 2 * ■ « f «l * • < *' | '■■ f Jl f f j—*—g: ■■ :A E^=fezzFrd > > £ £ /rU? \~l « ■ I •*—*—F ■ I-—I — w faF w p- BR s< ---p L —=EF Tr (E/zz - zz-E tf --±zzpzL^— T "Ertztr-T.- lEr— z±d (&-'■ Eq— *zzjzE? ; zz|zj r^^-^Ezzjzzgz —* ■ * ... p zjzz«zzpz JI p crcs. *• * J «>—P ?•—•§•—| 1 f *—• P—l 1 —« I > ).g__ * —# ———b —p • —p i — # —6 1 * —& \zzzg— p=x * F -E-Er ".F £=EEj 4 i Fj FT'T=EEj » TRIO. > fs (- »-p-g- x Zs:« -»' t Z : "«''«* ‘*« < * iF-.a—z—s. ' ; -*==f=Tir-f J '. xf Fine. f > i don. .& \ p i Qpg--. g I&J. £ EJ • ~i~~ "J-" f ~~1 ■ > —*p [■ — (T, ? - | R- g rt-* •-• J* - ~,-r-' 74 3 ftA i-i"—rip 1 iU M =i / f 81 f 1 i 4£. • —l~ ~J '~'F~- 22 S — ~ J f —~ J" '£— (e J—| ~J ] iEu I J-.J 9 F ~ F Jr {~:|p=^fc^*Ej_ J J > iJ|'-f^— J :qiji ji 1" K‘ frr .. E . . f . r ‘'. * sf =±FZT—^"F 9 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 / — ; —» p T-S *— ■ Rsz-t r s J E rr »—r^-p =j— f-jr j .-.*. te .-.J /H)-B—€—?■ -A. * —bJj yEET——< ~~E e=£ r * f I^—l■> —p ~ ~ —r-H —!i —-P —l —Pj» fe-rM— —-gz -•—| =Ez=£= iB-rj.rMi r ',.i 17 F— ■„! J.t j 1.1 * IE-* A • S’ \ 1 3 1 3 2 -0- | . hS —i— — a '• I J - —J——l r —1"~ w - u ;■> :.j rm )E : f . I’Z^-ZZZZEZiZZ^ZiE—7ZH V—=—T ! q ZIE z —t ■ ! ■ —I V==: J 7 V- V , # * ' (rF 2 < u ZJI jlxpEz-. « **7"**” Sf> ' ' fi ' p : ~ - T= : - ‘ ! ‘ ' -v >— 1 < f 81 f 1 fezUR 2 TRz 'M J_- -M=qp I 1 e 2 s f I P f P D.C.alFme 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.