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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,”