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.”
