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BED BOSES.
It was in the afternoon of New 1
fear’s Day, 187—, and the work
men wex-e putting the final touehes
the decorations in Mrs. Lancastei*’s
eautiful home, preparatory to a
nd ball to be given there that
evening, the invitations to which
were out in vast numbers, Mrs. Lan
caster her daughter Gertrude, and
iber orphan niece, Ethel Grey,- were
taking a party survey of the rooms
before malting their toilets for the
,-evening festivities. The three were
strolling leisurely through, admiring
the floral decorations, which were
* remarkable for their profusion and
(.artistic arrangement, which left
nothing wanting or to be desired.
* Everything seemed perfect and not
4 one of the ’admiring trio ventured
jghice a suggestion to have anything
v ■
• At length they were through, and
Mrs. Lancaster, with a final glance
of approval, and drawing a long
& breath of intense satisfaction, turned
.to leave the rooms.
“Well, girls I am going to lie
■ down awhile,” said Mrs. Lancastei’,
pausing at the foot of the broad
stairway. “And I would suggest
you both do the same thing if
won can. You will be tired enough
before you go to bed to-night?”
“It would bo useless for me, mam
ma,” replied Gertrude. “I could
never go to sleep now.”
“Well let us lie down and rest
even though we do not sleep,” said
jiSthel, as the three mounted the
j stairs, which in a few short hours
would be fairly creaking under its
~ weight of human freight. Gertrude
and Ethel arriving at their room,
(threw themselves upon the bed, gay-
k ily /.;onjeeturingj.the events about to
transpire.' ^—«.
I At length little by little their con-
:&rsalion ceased altogether, each,
--liowever, busily engaged in her own
thoughts, and strange to say, the
subject of their individual dreamings
was one and the same person—Ed
win Gruliamc—yet neither would
'have acknowjed to the other that
lie formed any part of their rambling
•pleasant thoughts. ^
Presently Ethel knew that Ger
trude was asleep from her deep, reg-
WJar breathing ; so conversation end
ued entirely.
j Ethel did not : sleep, and when
<the;e was a light tap at the door, she
f. arose quickly, and quietly opened it.
ft was Kate, Mrs Lancaster’s maid.
“Mrs. Lancaster would like Miss
Gertrude or yourself, please to ar
range a- few flowers for her hair and
throat; she particularly requested a
f'lew.”
% “All right Katie; I will do it ray-
self as Miss Gertrude is asleep,” and
^losing the door gently, descended
to the lower floor. It was but a few
moments after Ethel had left her
own room, when Gertude awoke,
mid, disliking to be alone in the
dark, arose aud hastily rang the bell
for lights, and for Kate to come and
do up her hair.
Slipping on a dressing gown, she
— seated herself before hex* mirror,
waiting for Katie rather impatiently
and absently drumming a tattoo with
her ivory brushes, when a loud knock
»t the door aroused her; and in an
swer to hor summons come in, the
butler entered, bearing a lovely bou-
quet of Marshal Neil rosebuds, with
» ja few deep, rich crimson ones in the
• centre.
“For Miss Grey,” said James, giv
ing them into the hands of Gertrude,
•bowing himself obsequiously out of
.the room.
Gertrude hastily glanced at the
card, upon which was the name of
Edwin Grahame, and instantly there
Crossed her face a shadow, as her
ey.es fell on a note pressed in between
the rosebuds; her brows contrabted,
and rather an odd expression flitted
over her countenance. She drew
e envelope cut quickly, and in a
efit /Covered it was unsealed.
She held it» moment in her band,
then, hesitating no longer, locked
her room doci’s, and opeixed it; and
this is wlxat she read:
Jan. 1st, 187—.
“My dear Ethel:—I hjive this day
been offered a position of trust and
honor, which will call me abroad for
several years—if I accept it My
answer must be given to-morrow
morning—aye, could be given now,
if my decision rested entirely with
myself; but in your hands do i place
my. future,, so ..far*. j@.t_ least, as to bid
me go, or stay. If you bid me stay,
it is with the understanding that
you become my wife. Fearing not
to have the opportunity this evening
of saying this to you, I adopt this as
the only alternative. I send a fow
flowers—crimson and pale gold; if I
am to stay, wear the crimson in your
hair to-night; if I am to go wear the
other, and I shall accept that as my
farewell. Edwin Gkahajie.
As Gertrude perused these linos, a
look of almost hatred grew in her
flashing eyes, and settled in the
curves of her month; and muttering
something beneath her breath, she
crushed the uote in her hand, threw
it hastily toward the open fire-place,
and unbolted the door, at which
some otic was already knoekin. It
was Katie who began at once to ar
range Gertrude’s hair.
Presently Ethel’s light stop was
heard, and Gertrude managed to
control herself and face.
“Oh, what lovely flowers!” was
Ethel’s exclamation,upon entering
the room. “Where did yon get
them?”—aud picking them up, read
Edwin Graliame’s name.
Ethel’s face turned intensely white
to the very lips, and, her heart seem
ed suddenly to stand still
“You see from whom they came,”
replied Gertrude, watching her nar
rowly.
“Yes,” was all Ethel’s lips could
utter.
“iVcliv to- -there anything so vory
stiange in Edwin, (grahame sending
mo those flowers,; that you stand
there as though stupified ?”
“No.”
“Is it pique or jealousy I wonder?”
thought Gertrude, still watching her
—then aloud •: “I really believe,
Ethel, you are jealous. Well, I will
put you out oi your misery at once,*
to prevent your being wholly devour
ed by the green-eyed monster, by
telling you those flowers wore sent to
you—to Miss Grey.”
The color surged up to Ethel’s
face, and her heart throbbed wildly,
as she buried her face in the roses,
to prevent Gertrude from seeing; the
sudden joy she felt would suddenly
betray her through her eyes.
Nothing, however, was lost on
Gertrude, and sho almost hated her
self for being obliged to confess that
Ethel loved him.
“Will you wear any of them- to
night?” asked Gertrude, trying to
make her querry appear indifferent.
• “Oh, would you, if you were me ?
Which would you wear, the crimson
or gold—or how would’ both look to
gether?”
A smile flitted across Gertrude’s
face, at the thought of what would
bo the—result if she- should wear
both.
“Well, let me see,” said Gertrude,
slowly; fiffTirougir critically exanuu^
ing, and deciding the effect upon
Ethel’s dress—which was entirely
white—“I think yon will look better
without any color, don’t yon?”
“Oh, but these deep crimson buds
are so lovely,” exclaimed Ethol, a
little disappointedly. “Don’t you
reully think they would look well?”
and Ethel held them up to her hair
to note the effect, as she stood before
the mirror.
Gertrude fairly shivered, as she
contemplated Ethol with her crim
son roses, und the result.
“Oh, no!” she said quickly.
“Most decidedly not; do not I'pray
you, spoil your dress with an addi
tion of color.”
“Very well,” said Ethel, who was
apt to be guided in such matters by
Gertrude; and so when Ethel de
scended the drawing room, she wore
two lovely Marshal Neil rosebuds in
her hair; while the rest of the flow
ers, upon each ouo of which she
had fondly pressed her lips, remain
ed upon hor dressing-case, uncon
scious of the part they wore playing
in the lives of two human boings who
loved one another.
How often it happens that somo
litclo trifle may change the whole
current of our lives.
A year and a half has passed since
the event occurred which is l’ecordod
in the first chapter, and Mr. -and
Mrs. Lancaster, Gertrude and hex*,
husband, Mi*. Lano, (sho lias now
been married four months) and Ethel
are traveliiig in Europe.
File party now for the month of
August, will remain in Switzerland,
‘doing’ the magnificent scenery, otc.
One day upon returning from a long
rgmblc, feeling desperately tired,
they all separated and relumed to
their own separate apartments to
rest—-Mr. and Mrs. Lancaster, Ger
trude and Mr. Lano—and thus Ethol
was loft alone.
Glancing idly oVor a London paper
a week old, sho chanced to fall upon
the following paragraph: “Wo are
glad to learn that Mr. Edwin Gra
hame as at last availed himself of
the opportunetyifofforded for rest and
recreation from the arduous labors
(in the scientific cause for which ho
came to this country,) and is now
traveling'in^Jwitzorland, whore ho
expocts to remain about a month.”
Sho rqgd it again and again, and
her thoughts flew with lightijing-
like rapidity back to that Now Year’s
night, eighteen months ago, when
she last saw Edwiii Grahame;
and the thought that he still possess
ed. her heart, ho wlio hud never ask
ed her for hor love, sent the color to
hor face; and although a year and a
half had passed away, tlxo knowlodge
dial; they were so-moar each other,
that they might p<>ssiIdly iheeljYriafleTl
her heart throb wildly for joy. From
musing over tli© past, she fell into
d reaming of the future—if she should
moot him: the door opened, Ivor un
cle entered the room, and with him
Edwin Grahame!
' Ethol quickly arose, extended her
hand, and they exchanged the usual
greetings of friends long separated.
Meanwhile Mr. Lancaster loft tlxo
room, to impart the news of Edwin
Gi-alnfhe’s arrival to the rest of the
family. .
’ After that day he was constantly
the recipient of invitations to join
them wherever they went,-and they
were a lively pleasant party.
During his long absence he bad
tried to overcome every trace of his
love for Ethel, aud he thought lie
had succeeded; but no, fight it as ho
would, the old glamor would come
over him when with Ethel, and at
times he almost persuaded himself
he could win Ethel now, if*he would
but ask her the second time ; but no
he would not risk being rejected
twice—besides while everything was
pleasant now, why do aught to in
terfere?
They had beon together now a
month, and -the- time was drawing
near when Edwin was to separate
from hid frifttida: ~NTp nna—imurr-hfir
'JenTeanbiy would have guessed what
good-bye meant for hiifi tp utter.
It was lato in the afternoon, and
the party were leisurely strolling
homeward, or what was their home
at present, Ethol and Edwin being
somewhat in the advance of the rest.
Ethel carried a few flowers, and
naturally the conversation turned
upon them.
“Are not flowers just the loveliest
things m nature, Mr. Grahame?”
asked Ether, looking fondly at them.
“Yes,” answered Edwin, “they
certainly are very lovely. Who
would think tc look upon their in
nocent loveliness they had the power
to change the entire future of a man;
—that any one’s fate restod alone up
on one little rose, seems almost in
credible does it not?”
Ethel laughed. “It does indeed—
in fact, I should say utterly impossi
ble. But perhaps you will enlighten
mo upon this mysterious power they
can oxerciso upon ns poor mortals.”
Edwin loo lied steadily at Ethel a
moment bofoie answering. Could
sho so soon f< rgotf No. Was sho
then but trill tog with him, and for
the second tit io? Sho looked up at
him, and from that instaut those
thoughts iloi,, and there flashed
through hi in one which caused his
pulso to thrill with joy—could it bo
possiblo she had never roooived' his
noto? r 1 •
“Ethol,” iwul -lie endeavored to
preserve a odoTmid calm oxtevior,
while watching hor attentively ;
“Ethol did you never hoar of a man
risking his whole future happiness
upon a little, flowm 1 ?”
“Never!” and sho gazed up in lxis
oyos fearlessly, unflinchingly. Sure
ly tlioro was, there could be^ho de
ception in t|iose dear, honest oyos.
“Liston /then, Ethol, to a vory
foolish act,,;of which 1 was guilty,”
and hero followed a reoital of the
event of jVhioh we alroady have a
knowledge.'', i.
“And I fiver know it,” said Ethol
slowly. ■
“Would,your answer liavo beoii a'
difforont ono, had you—but I caro
not what it would have beon, but
what it will bo now, for again I place
my happiness in your hands ; for try
as I havo, I have never succeeded in
living do win my lovo for you, nor my
disappointment;,—again do I ask you
to become my wife.”
“Yes,” was t|l Ethel said—simply
one word; bub it was sufficient to
Edwino Grahame, who had waited
so long for it.
“My own |urling at last! Ethol,
ydu have made mo very happy.”
That evening wlioii Ethel came
down stairs to join, the family party,
sli a wore Jed"irqles ;ih her lmir.jiff&jfc
lufi- and peeking 'Edward’s
co oi
with the happy smilo which Quickly
spread over lxis countenance; at last
she wore thorn, and for him.
Voters for 1880.
They lmd been married two years,
when ono morning, just as the tip
ends of Aurora’s fingers reached for
a cloud to help pull himself up from
his ocean bath by, Maria shook
Georgo to wake him from lji$ morn
ing nap, There was a happy, far
away look iu her eyes.
“Oh, Georgo,’? sho said, “I’ve had
such a dream!”
“All right,” ho said, turning over
for a bran now nap, “dream away, !
won’t hinder you.”
At breakfast he thought to ask her
about the dream, and, after some
persuasion, she consented to tell it.”
“I dreamed,” she said, J‘I was at
a big auction sale of men, and a whole
lot of us women were buying them
up for husbands. Oh, there was
some splendid looking meu there.
One great big fellow, six foot high,
with full, round limbs, big black
eyes and glorious curly hair, brought
8100,000. The noxt ono, fully us
big and Jiandsome, with-“light- hah*
and whiskers, brought 890,000.
“Did you see miy..Ihera 4Uto ine!
did they bring?” anxiously
asked the linsbaiid.
‘:And I was just crying my eyes
out becauso I hadn’t money enough
to buy a prime article- ”
“Did you see any sold like mo?
and what did——”
“At lust they got down to 850,000
but still I could not buy and was
crying like anything when ”
“Did you see any sold like me,
and—”
“Then they got down to 825,000,
and 820,(100, and 815,000 and 10,000
but still I couldn’t buy, and I was
crying fit to turn an overshot water
wfieelj when—”
“Did yon see any like mo?”
‘ ‘Goodness, gracious, yes! Thous
ands of them. They were put up in
bundles like corn-fodder,.and sold
for a cent a bundle. They woro la
belled ‘voters for J880,’ and the
auctioneer would not guarantee them
for any other use.”
Wheq she jookod around again ho
was gone,
WRTTE THEM A LETTER '10-NICHtT
Don’t go to the theater, concert or ball,
But stay in your room to-night;
Deny yourself to the friends that call,
And a good lottor write—
Write to tile sad old folks at home,
Who sit when the day is done,
With folded hands and downcast eyes,
And think of the absent ono.
Don’t selfishly scribble, “Excuse my haste,
I’vo scarcely the time to write,”
Lest their broodlug-thoughts go wandering
- : back -
To many a .by-gone night—
Wliciv they lost t heir 1ieiide'd sic:op i uul rout
And every breath was u prayer
Tlxat God woiild leave tholr delicate babe
To their tender love and care.
Don’t let them feel that you’ve no more
need
Of tliclr lovo and counsel wise;
For the heart grows strongly sensitive
When ago hath dimmed the eye—
It might bo well to lot them believe
You never forgot them quite;
That wo deem it a pleasure when far away
Long letters home to write.
Don’t think that young and giddy friends
Who make your pastime gay,
Have half the anxious thoughts for yon
.That the old folks liavo to-day.
The duty of writing do not put off;
Let sloop or pleasure wait.
Lost the lottor for which they looked and
longed
Bo a day or hour too late.
For the sad old folks at homo,
With looks fast turning white,
Are longing to hoar from the absent ono—
Write them a letter to-night.
At the Barber's.
All tilings chango oxoept barbers,
the ways of barbers, and tliosm-
irauridings of barkers. These never
change. I went to got shav ed. The
barber shoved up my head and put n
napkin under it. Ho ploughod his
fingers into my collar and fixed a
towel there. Ho explored my hair
needed fcriiixnnltg. I said I did not
•withiiifc trimmed.' Ho explored again
and sai3'TE"lva8 pr6tty ToYig for i;Tio*
tho present Stylo—bolter liavo a little
taken off; it neodod it bohind espe
cially. I said I hud it cut only a
woek boforo. IIo yearned over it
rofleotivoly a moment and then asked’
with a disparaging manner who did
it, I came back at him with a “You
did!” I had him there. Then lie
fell to stirring up his lather and re
garding liimsolf in tho gluHS, stopping
now and thon to gob close aud exam
ine his chin critically or torture a
pimple. Then ho latfierod-ono side
of my face thoroughly, and was about
to lather tho other, when a dog-fight
attracted his attention, and he ran to
tho window and stayed and saw it
opt, losing two shillings on the result
in bets' witli tho other barbers, a thing
which gavo mo great satisfaction.
Ho finished lathering, moantime
getting the brush into my mouth
only twice and thon began to rub in
tilO suds with his hand; and as lie now
had his head turned, discussing tho
dog-fight with the other harbors, he
naturally shovolod considerable lather
into my month without knowingJi;
but I did. _
lie" now began to sharpen hkm«u*
on art bid suspBtniak-ftnd was delayed
P-Ti gopdflii on account of a coutro-
vorsv about a cheap masquerade ball
ho had figured at the night before,
in red cum brie and bogus ermine, as
somo kind of a king. Ho was so
gratified about being so chaffed about
somo damsel whom ho hud smitten
with his charms that ho used every
moans to continue the controversy by
pretending to bo annoyed at the
clmflings of his fellows. This matter
begot more surveyings of himself in
tho glass, and he put down tho razor
and brushed his hair with olabomte
care, plastering an inverted arch of
it down on his forehead, accomplish
ing un accurate' “part” beijincj, and
brushing tho two wings forward ovor
his oars with nioo mjactnoss. In the
meaptjmo tho lather wqs drying on
my faoe, and apparently eating into
my vitals.
Now he bogan to slmvo, digging
his fingers into my countenance to
stretch tho skin, bundl* rxg and tum
bling rny head this w ij and that as
convenience domaixdod, making a
handle of my noso now and'then and
“hawking” and expectorating pleas
antly all the .while. As long as he
was on tho tough sides of my face -l
did not suffer; but when lie began to
mko and rip and tug at my chin t heSg
tears came. I did not rapid his get
ting down so oloso to mo; I did not
mind his garlic, becauso all barbers
oat garlic, I suppose; but there was
an added something that made mo
fear ho was decaying inwardly while
('till alive, und lliia ga.v(v mo mill'll
concern. Ho now put his fingers
into my mouth to assist him in shav
ing tho corners of my nppor lip, aud
it wus by this bit of circumstantial
ovidenco Hint I discovered that a part
of his duties in the shop was to oleau
the lamps.
About this time I was amusing
myself trying to guess whore he
would be mo|t likely to out mo this
time, but ho had got ah cud of me
and sliced me on tho ond of the chin
boforo I laid got my mind made up.
He immediately sharponed his razor
—lie might; liavo dono it boforo. I
do not like a close shave, and would
not lot him go over mo a sooond
timo. I tried to got him to put up
his razor, dreading that lie- would
make for tho Bide of my oliin, my
pot toudor spot, a pluco which a razor
cannot touch twioo without making
trouble; but ho said ho ouly wautecl
to just smooth off one Jittio rough
ness, and in that sumo moment he
slipped lus razor along the forbidden
ground, and the dreaded pimple-signs
of a close shave rose up smarting and
answered to the call. Now ho soakod
his towel in bay rnui, und sluppod it
all over my face hastily, sluppod it
ovor as if a human being ovor yet
washed his fixco in that way. Tl’xon
ho dried it by. slapping wi th tho dry
part,of a tqwol, as if a human being
ov 0 :' dried his face fn bucIi a fashion;
but a barbor'soTdom rubs you JiJfe
Christian. . Next he poked hay ruin
into tho cut pluco with his towel,
thon chokod the wound with pow
dered starch, thon soakod it with
bay rum again, and would have gono
on soaking and powdering it for
ovormoro, fto doubt, lmd I not rebel
led and begged off. Ho powdered
my whole faco now, struightonod mo
up, und began to plow my hair thor
oughly with his hands aud examine
his fingors critically. Then he sug
gested a shampoo, and said my hair
ncedod it badly—very badly, l ,ob-
sorvod that I shampooed it mysolf
very thoroughly in the hath yostor-
day. I “had him” again. Ho next
rocommended somo of “Smith’s huir
glorifior,” and offered to sell me a
bottle. I dccliuod. He praised the
now perfume, “Jonos’s delight of tho
toilet,” and proposed to sell somo of
that. 1 declined again. lie tender
ed mo.a tooth wash atrocity of his
own invention, and, when I declmod,
offered to trade knives with me.
He returned to business aftor tho
miscarriage of. thir last on lor prise,
sprinkled mo all oyer, logs and all,
greased~~flry "hair, in defiance of my
protests against it, rubbed and scrub
bed-a good deal of it by tho roots,
und combed and brnsliod the rest,
parting it bohind, and plastering tho
eternal inverted arch of hair down
on my forehead, and thon while
combing my scant eyebrows and de
filing them with pomude, strung out
on account of the achievomonts of a
six-ouncc black and tan toiTiorof hie,
till I hoard tho whistle/s blow foy
noon, and know ( was five rniuutes
too lato for tho train. Then lie
snacohod away tho towel, brushed it
lightly about iny facto, passed his
ficimb through my eyebrows once
wore, and gaily sung out "Next.”
Tilts barber fell down and died of
apoplexy two hours later. I am
waiting ovor u day for my revengo
—I am going to attend his funeral.
—[Mark Twain.
“Down in Maryland tlioro is a
blackmail turning white. We t an
match it. Tho otlier ovoning a «j
saw a white girl turn rod,”
