Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

the knight in SILVER mail. , She left the needle in the rose 1 And put her broidery by, And leaning from her casement tall She heard the owlets cry. The purple sky was thick with stars, And in the moonlight pale She saw come riding from the wood A knight in silver mail His plume was like the snowy foam That wreathes the roaring tide. The glory of his golden locks His helmet could hot hide. She took the lily from her breast (Like hers, its beauty frail), And dropped it as he rode beneath— > The knight in silver mail. About her gown of crimson silk She drew a mantle dark. She saw the stately castle towers i Uprising from the park, ! And on the lake the mated swans, Asleep in shadow, sail. But left it all to follow him, I The knight in silver mail. { “ Oh, I would see thy face, my love, Oh, i would see thy face! Why, dost thou koep thy visor down! It is a lonely place. ’’ His voice was like the hollow reeds That rustle in the gale; ” ’Tis lonelier in my castle.” said The knight in silver mail. He let his steed go riderless, Ho took her by the hand And led lit r over brake and briar Into a lonesome land. “ Oh, are they heads ones all a-row That glimmer in the vale?” 41 My castle wal's are white,” replied The knight in silver mail. “ So close unto thy castle doors Why buriest thou the dead;" 41 Forten longyears I’ve slept with them: Ah, welcome home!” ho said. He clasped her dainty waist around And in the moonlight pale Upraised his visor, and she saw ’! he knight in silver mail At dawn her father’s men-at-arms Went searching everywhere, And found her with the churchyard dews A-sparkle in hair. And lo! a sight to make the best And bravest of them quail: Beside her in the tangled grass A skeleton in mail. — Century. SELENI. One _ April . , morning, while the sun was •htningdown in Silver City, Seleni and her father came slowly into town. There was •now still in ihe mountains—-many feet ® * )U me * te din the valley, *nd the wooden j pavemeuts of the little mining .July. camp were as dry as though it was in Uver m Hallelu ah Gulch a great •trike had been made, and numbers of prospectors •toodin thronged the streets and groups on every corner. One rough miner turned and looked after eelem and her father and the old hand or S at V. ls , ere ! a C1 ‘y- now, boys!” he cried. • j ,,. look the .just at organ-grinder come to town.” ‘Give us a toot, old __ man!” called out • second miner. 1 ?'*“•’ “One. boys,” said a third, “, e ls Seleni , led her father down the nar row street, and piloted him safely through the noisy crowd. As she turned • corner she spied an unpretending res taurant. “Dinner 50 cents,” the sign read, nnd •he paused before the open door. “We’ll go in an’ git some dinner, dad; Tm fearful hungry.” She led her father to one of the small tables and slipped the organ from his back. Then she drew an old bandaua handkerchief from her pocket and un tied one corner. A little roll of nickels dropped out on the table. “Got enough, Seleni?” asked her father, anxiously. His quick ears had caught the click of the coins. “Lots,’’said _ Feleni, shortly. She hastily ted up the money, and going fa! to her, the and counter, ordered dinner for her for herself only a bowi of mush and milk. “I was pretty near starved,” said the old organ grinder, as he ate his roast beef with a good reli h. “H’a.nt the meat real good, f “Bet your life I” answered Seleni, calmly taking a sip of milk. “And the tomatoes, and the rice pud din’,’’ added her father. “ Yes, dad, but don’t stop to talk,” said Seleni. Seleni soon finished her own simple dinner, and leaned back in the stiff, wooden chair. Two miners near by looked up admiringly, F eleni’s eyes were large and black, as had been those of her Italian mother, who had died when she was born. Heavy braids of blue-black hair were wound around her head, and her cheeks and lips were crimson. Her old straw hat was tied down with a faded ribbon; her dark blue diess was stained and shabby. She wore a blanket shawl around her slender shoulders. “We’ve had a splendid dinner, hain’t we?” said her father, rising and taking the organ on his back. Seleni paid the restaurant keeper, and tied up her few nickels that remained. Then she took her father’s anli and led him to the corner of the street. “Well stop and play here, dad.” Her father patiently began to turn the crank of the old organ. Seleni stood beside him and eagerly scanned the faces of the passers-by. Few seemed to think tha music was worth paying for. A lady gave Seleni a 10-cent piece, and a miner .carelessly tossed a quarter toward them, But their supper and a night’s lodging were to he paid for. and very few nickels were left in the bandana hankerchief. It grew late at last. The organ grinder had now played through all h s tunes. “You are tired, dad,” said Seleni, as her father paused. “Well go and find a place to sleep.” “We don't want no supper, do we, Seleni? We had such a hearty dinner.” “Yes, dad,” said Seleni, faintly. “And it was late, too,” added the old man. “It must ha’ been most l o’clock.” “Be you hungry, dad,” asked Seleni, anxiously looking into his face. “Not a mite,” answered her father, little very cheerfully. “And s’pose I play a longer. ’Taint dark yet, is it? Let’s walk along 1” They turned a cornerand found them¬ selves on a side street in a quiet neigh¬ borhood. There were lace curtains at the windows of some of the small cabins. An open door gave a glimpse of a bright Brussels carpet. Suddenly a young girl appeared at a window and, raising the sash, very care¬ lessly tossed out into the street a beau¬ tiful but withered bouquet of hot house flowers. Seleni quickly glanced up at the lady, who was young and had fair hair. This much she remembered al¬ ways. The bouquet rolled to the young girl’s fe t, then stopped. She stooped and picked up the flowers. They were only a little faded; some of the roses have were quite fresh and fragant. It must been a beautiful bouquet once. Why did the voung lady throw it away i ‘ j so soon? It was near 7 o'clock. Seleni and her father had paused before a large hotel. The piazza in front was ciowded with men. Some of them gazed at the girl who stood so patiently beside the old organ. Her hat had slipped back and her black hair lay in rings on her smooth, white forehead. Seleni did not know how pretty she was and wondered why the men stared at her so. She knew that she was tired and hungry. She wished some one would toss them some money. A young man came down the steps. He wore a blue flannel shirt, and his eni’s coat was father quite as shabby as the one Sel wore. He stood in front of the organ with his hands in his pockets. For a few moments he did not speak, but seemed to be listening to toe music. And then his eyes fell on the flowers. “Where did you git ’em?” he asked suddenly. “Found ’em,” answered Selini, quite as shortly. He came a step nearer, and held out his hand. “Let me see ’em.” Seleni drew back hastily. “Bay for ’em first. I’ll sell ’em cheap,” she said, He thrust his hand still deeper into his pocket, then tossed a silver dollar on the top of the old organ. Then he took the flowers, and studied them intent.y as he turned the bouquet around. “Tell me where you got ’em, ” he asked pleadingly. • ‘Found ’em, ” Seleni said again. “A lady threw ’em out the winder.” The young man said something under I his breath, then turned and walked away, Seleni had seen the color come to his face, and a hurt look in his eyes. As she looked after him he gave the bouquet a toss, and it fell in the muddy street, only to be crushed the next instant by the wheels of a pass ng wagon, there enough money yet?” asked her father, touching her arm. “Yes, dad,” she answered. “We’llgo and get some supper, and then we’ll find a place The to sleep ” little parlor of Mrs. Murphy’s lodging that house was crowded with lodgers seated evening, t-eleni left her father quietly contentedly the in a corner and stole out at front door. She was so accustomed to being out of doors that she felt sullocated in a close room. Some one sat on the lower step with his head resting on his hands. He looked up and saw Seleni as she stood hesitating'y “Don’t in the doorway. be afra d,” he $a d, kindly. It was the young man who had bought the flowers. Seleni sank down on the steps and drew her old blanket more closely arouud her. “It’s cold out here,” said the young man. “Mebbe you’d better go in.” “Ihaintcold; I’m most always out doors,” said Seleni. “Where do you say you found the posies?” he asked. “A young lady throwed ’em out. She had yeller hair. It was a house with white curtains at the winders. I didn’t set ha no price on the flowers. You needn’t te paid me so much for ’em.” “I don’t cpmplain of the price; they cost me a pile to begin with.” “Did you give 'em to her?” “Yes; more fool, too.” “They were faded some,” remarked Seleni, consolingly. “Yes,” he said bitterly. “She had ’em twelve hours.” His head dropped on his hands again. “I wouldn’t care.” said Seleni, softly. The young man glanced at her. Seleni’s eyes were soft with sympathy; she looked so fair in the moonlight. “How old be you?” he asked. “Seventeen.” “And you travel round with your father?” “Ves; dad likes to travel. He won’t let me do nothin’. He says he reckons he can support me,” said Seleni, proudly. her “Can you face. write?” looking eagerly into pretty “Considerable—I was to public school once,” answered Seleni. “I hain’t got no edication, and I want to get a letter writ.” “I’ll do it.” “Will you, now?” “Yes,” eagerly. The young fellow sprang up. “Come on into the kitchen, then; there’s nobody there.” In a few minutes he had brought Seteni a sheet of paper and pen and ink. They were alone in the little kitchen that was scarcely more than ashed. The girl “Begin seated herself at the table. ‘Darlin’ Lizzie,’” said the young “Yes,” man, leaning over her shoulder. said t-eleni, and in a very cramped hand she wrote the two words. “Tell her I love her; tell her I’m goin’ over to Bed Mountain to-morrow, but she can write to me. Jim CoDroo’ll read me her letter. Got it all down?” awful “Pretty near. You told me such an lot,” said Seleni. She handled the pen awkwardly. A bright color had come to the young man’s cheeks. His hair was light, almost golden—just the color of the young lady's, do Seleni thought. She glanced .n at the letter. Would “uarling Lizzie” say yes or no? “Got done?” said her friend. “I’ll take it over to the po-toilice.” He sealed the envelope carefully and put it tenderly in his pocket. Then he held out his bronzed hand. “* ood-by. I’m much obliged to you. If I don't never see you again I wish you good luck.” As he passed Feleni’s chair a silver dollar dropped into her lap. The next April Seleni and her father found themselves once more crossing Red Mountain on their way to Silver City. Seleni h id grown a little taller, but she looked much the same. Her dress wasstill shabbv, and a forlorn felt hat replaced the old black straw. But her lips and cheeks were crimson with exercise and health. As they came into view of the town they passed a group of miners who were out prospecting, tine of them shaded h s eyes with his hands and looked steadily at seleni. “Give us a tune!’’ he caited out to the organ-grinder, and the old man obedi¬ ently set down his organ and began to turn the crank. Then the young miner came slowly to¬ ward Seleni and held out his hand. The girl knew him at a glance,and her black eyes grew bright with pleasure. “J didn’t get no answer,” he whis¬ pered. Seleni looked sorry; then a curious gladness “Hain’t came to her eyes. you seen her?” she asked. “Ao,’’answered the young man; “tthe doesn’t live here no more,” “I’m very sorry,” said the girl; “I writ it plain.” “’Twasn’t you fault.” Then he looked at her admiringly. The “S’pose old I eome to see you to -night?” burden organ-grinder and took up his 'Seleni sm.led again, as they moved away over her shoulder at the young man with fair hair, who looked after her as he leaned lightly on his pick. A month later a priest at Silver City marr ed them. Seleni was very happy in her new home. There were no lace curtains at the cabin windows, for her husband was but a poor prospector, with only his youth and hope. husband One evening during the winter Seleni’s himself came home, and a3 he seated by the stove, drew a yellow en¬ velope from h s pocket. It was old and worn by much handling,and bore numer¬ ous post marks, “What is it .” asked Seleni, quickly. “An old letter fur me,” answered her husband. “They said it had bin foller in jn’ me round place long everywhere. the past I hain’t I been one year. guess it ain’t much good now. S’pose you read it.” Feleni took the letter and tore open the envelope. There were only a few lines. It began “Darling Jim” and was signed “Your own Lizzie.” It stated that the writer would many him at any time. “Don’t look so!” cried her husband, as Seleni grew deadly white. She did not speak, but stood perfectly still with the letter clutched in her hand. But her husband threw his strong arms around her. “I’m glad I didn’t get it!” he cried. “Don’t you know I love you best? No¬ body can’t take your place now.”— St. Louis Star Sayings. A Turkish Dinner. Rousseau has said that from the food of a nation you can tell its chai a teristics; if this is true, no better spot for the study of ethnology cau be found than Cavalla. Doubtless, if it be desired, au opportun¬ ity will occur of dining with many na¬ tionalities. By all means accept an invi tation to dine with a Turkish Pasha, says a writer in Cornhill. I had the pleasure Governor of Drama, taking a meal with the of who is passing rich for a Turk, seeing that he rules over the plains where the chief tobacco farms are, and his opportunities for amassing wealth are many and varied. Silence and expe¬ dition are the chief characteristics of a Turkish meal. The table prepaiations are few, but the dishes are many; olives, caviare, cheese, etc., are dotted about, and perhaps round as many as ten dishes are handed on covered brazen dishes, consisting of rice or barley, me it or boiled fish, cakes seasoned with vege¬ tables, roast lamb, beans, a species of rissole wrapped Jaf and up in vine leases, the inevitable p fruits. Each person has his glass of sherbet bv him, and his piece of unleavened bread, for the Turks love half-baked dough. It will comfort the European to see every one wash his hands before his meal, for forks are un¬ known, and each is expected to dip his fingers into the savory morsel as it is handed to him. During the whole of the feeding process scarcely four or five words Will be uttered, and at the most your repast will last twenty minutes, but then, afterwards, with the coilee and the hubble-bubble, conversation will flow freely. To the Turk eating is a serious gastronomic exercise, which will not ad¬ mit of any conversation being entered into during its progress. Witch Hazel a True Water Finder. J. F. Dowdal, of Pittsburg, Penn., recently remarked to a Chicago News man: “We have a well-tinder living near Pittsburg, who has convinced a Welshman named Price, me that there is a good deal in those old stories about men being able to find running water with a ha el switch. He cut his rod into a long Y, and taking one side of the fork in each haud he holds the rod before him and walks up and down over the place where the with well is to be dug. At last he stops the rod po uting down, and I have never known it to fad that water has been found in a reasonable distance down where he has directed a well to be dug, while I have seen very deep witnin wells dug distance without of reaching water easy the places ho pointed twitch out. Pr and ce declares that, he feel# the rod pull when he is cross¬ ing running water, and he can locate any subterranean stream that is not more than a hundred feet or so beneath the sur¬ face.”