Daily Wabash Express, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 10 January 1886 — Page 3

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WHAT SHALL I GIVE HER?

What shall I give my loveT •. This gray-hairoi woman, ^1 What shall I give her?

]fc Since by fate brought together, We two hare wrought together. T^* Helping each other 5V In deed, in thonght T't- Each has mads the other stronger,

Mai* this life worth living longer, Which else were naught. What shall I girt her? .,,. "i

What shall I give my loveT This gray-haired woman, What shall I give her! The morn should sing it to me,

'1^4

,o -n"- -.Jr.Xha niltht should brine it to me, The thought I seek! So close are we l', tjubtle instinct of affection j* ^Should make easy the selection.

1-

What shall it be? What shall I give her?

Our beings have a single sum, Our thoughts in the same channel flow This happiness to us has" ceme,

No more we seek nor care to know! Wound through the fiber of each beauty T.ka wire of gold through potter's olay, This knowledge is the richest part,

Love's handiwork, Love's cloisonne.

What shall I give my love, 't. -"''Stj This gray-haired woman? It matters not! I laugh, to ponder o'er It She would but wonder o'er it.

Why! she has got v?4E3 All I could give! jfjjl 1

In one our lives are blended, ..." A« one will they be ended So do we live,

What could I give her! *. 1 —[Stanley Waterloo.,'

WE IN 1MB ONLY.

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'Lord Arleigli has been

I

Ziy CHARLOTTE M. BEAPME, Author of "Dora Thorn e." ...

CHAPTER VII. I

EO

accustomed

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could with difficulty imagine the f»ct

felt some curiosity about her. How 'i would she greet him. How would she receive him He. wrote to her at once, asking permission to visit her, and he

1

came

feifi

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away from that visit with bis eyes a little dazzled, his brain somewhat dazed, but his heart untouched. His fancy was somewhat disturbed by the haunting memory of dark, splendid eyes, •ft* lighted with fire and passion, and a bright radiant face and scarlet lips—by a melungt of amber, lace and perfume—but his heart was untouched. She was bervutiful beyond his fairest dream of women—he 'vi? owned that to himself—but it was not the kind of beauty that he admired it was too vivid, too highly colored, too brilliant. He preferred the pure sweet lily to the queenly rose. Still he said to himself that he had never se«n a face or ss? figure like Miss L'Estrange's. No won-+letis der that she had half London at her feet!

He was pleased with her kind recej-

tion of him, although he had not read her welcome aright he was too true a gentleman even to think that it was love which shone in her eyes and trembled on her lips—love which made her voice falter and die away—love which caused her ji to exert every art and grace of which she #was mistress to fascinate him. He was delighted with hef—his heart grew warm under the charm of her words, but he S never dreamed of love.

He had said to himself that there must be no renewal of his childish nonsense of early days—that he must be careful not I to allude to it to do so would be in bad taste. Not- that he was S vain enough to think she would attach

any

importance to it even if he did so but he was one of nature's gentlemen| and he would have scorned to exaggerate or to say one word more than he meant. Her welcome had been most graceful, most kind—the beautiful face had softened and changed completely for him. She had devoted herself entirely to him nothing in all the wide world had seemed to her of the least interest except himself and his affairs—boobs, I music, pictures, even herself, her own S triumphs, were all as nothing when compared with him. He would have been I less than mortal not to have been both pleased and flattered.

Pressed so earnestly to return to dinner, he had promised to do so and evening, the sweet-scented May evening, found S him once more at Hyde Park. If any'i thing Phillippa looked even more lovely,

She wore her favorite colon—amber and white—a dress of rich amber brocade

j--

trimmed with white lace the queenly head was circled with diamonds jewels like fire gleamed on the white breast there was a cluster of choice flowers in her bodice. He had seen her hitherto as a girl now he was to see her as the high- $ bred hostess, the mistress of a large and magnificent mansion.

He owned to himself that she was simI ?ly perfect. He had se«n nothing in better taste, although he had been on intimate terms with the great ones oi the earth. As he watched her, he thought to himself that, high and brilliant as was her station, it was not yet high enough for her. She flung a charm so magical around her that he was insensibly attxacted by it, yet he was not the least in ]ove—nothing was further from his 'thoughts. He could not hilp seeing that, after a fashion, she treated him differently from her other guests. He could not have told why or how he felt only a certain subtle diflerence her voice seemed to take another tone in addressing hija, her face another expression, as though she regarded him as one quite apart from all others.

The dinner party was a success, as was every kind of entertainment with which Philippa L'Estrange was concerned. "When the visitors rose to take their 'eave, Norman rose alro. She was standing near him. •t "Do not go yet, Norman," she said, "it is quite early. Stay, and I will sing to s: you."

She spoke in so low a tone ef voice that no one else heard her. He was quite willing. Where could he feel more at hove than in this charming drawingroom, with this beautiful girl, his old friend and playmate?

She bade adieu to her visitors, and then turned to him with such a'smile as might have lost or won Troy. "I thought they would net never go," she said "and it seems to me that I have barely exchanged one word with you yet, Norman." "We have talked, many hours," he re turned, laughing. "Ah, you count time by the old fashion hours and minutes! I forget it when I am talking to one I—to an old friend like you." "You are en.nusiastic," said Lord Arleigh, wondering at the light on the splendid face. "Nay, I am constant," she rejoined.

And* for a few minutes after that silence reigned between them. Philippa iras to break it.

Nemember," she asked, "that

you used to praise my voice, and prophesy that I should sing well?" "Yes, I remember," he replied.^ "I have worked hard at music, she continued, "in the hope of pleasing you." "In the hope of pleasing me he interrogated. "It was kind of you to think so much of me," "Of whom should I think, if not ot you shp inquired.

There

were both lore and reproach in

her voice—he heard neither. Had he been as vain as he was proud, he would have been quicker to detect her love for himself.

The windows had been opened because the evening air was so clear and sweet it came in now, and seemed to give to the flowers a sweeter fragrance. Lord Arleigh drew his chair to the piano. "I want you only to listen," she said. "You will have no turning over to do for me the songs I love beet I know by heart. Shut your eyes, Norman and dream." 'I shall dream more vividly if I keep them open and look at you/' he returned.

Then in a few minutes he began to think he must be in dream-land—the rich, sweet voice, so clear, so soft so low, was filling the room with sweetest music. It was like no human voice that he remembered seductive, lull of passion knd tenderness—a voice that told its own story, that told of its owner's power and charm—a' voice that carried away the hearts of the listeners irresistibly, as the strong current carries the leaflet.

She sang of love, mighty, irresistible love, the king before whom all bow dowp and as she sang he looked at her. The soft, pearly light of the lamps fell on her glorious face, and seemed to render it more beautiful. He wondered what spell was fast falling over him, for he saw nothing but Fhilippa's face, heard nothing bnt the music that seemed to steep his senses as in a dream.

How fatally, wondrously lovely she was, this siren who sane to him of love, until every sense was full of silent ecstacy, until his face flushed and his heart beat fast. Suddenly his eyes met hers the scarlet lips trembled, the_ white fingers grew unsteady her eyelids drooped,

that she was row a lovely girl, and one "You should i:ot look at me, Norman," of the wealthiest heiresses in London. He she said, "when I sing it embarrasses

"You should contrive to look a little less beautiful then, Philippa," he rejoined. "What was the last song?" "It is anew one," she replied, "called 'My Queen."' "I should! ike to read the Words," said Lord Arleigh.

In a few minutes, she had found it for him, and they bent over the printed page together her dark hair touched his cheek, the perfume from the white lilies she wore seemed to entrance him he could not understand the spell that lay over him. "Is it not beautiful she said. •'Yes, beautiful, but ideal few women, I think, wonld equal this poet's queen." "You do not know—you cannot tell, Norman, I think any woman who loves, and loves truly, becomes a queen."

He looked at her, wondeiing at the passion in he? voice—wondering at the expiession on her beautiful face. "You are incredulor a," she said "but it true. Love is woman's dominion her but once enter it, and she becomes a queen her heart and soul grow grander, the light of loyp crowns her. It is the real diadem of womanhood, Norman, she knows no other."

He drew back startled her words seemed to rouse him into sudden conciousness. She was quick enough to see it, and, with the distrait manner of a true woman of the world, quickly changed the subject. She asked some' trifling question about Beechgrove, and then said, suddenly— "I should like t* see that fine old place of yours, Norman. I was only ten when mamma took me there the last time that was rather too young to appreciate its treasures. I should like to see it again." "I hope you will see it, Philippa I have many curiosities to show you. I have sent home treasures from every groat city I l'ave visited."

She looked at him half-wonderingly, half-wistfully, but he said no more. Geuld it be that he had no thought of ever filing her to be mistress and queen of this house of his? "You must have a party in the autumn," she said. "Lady Peters and I must be amongst your guests." "That will be an honor. I shall keep you to your word, Philippa." And then he lose to go.

The dark, wistful eyes followed him. She drew a little nearer to him as he held out his hand to say good-night. "You are quite sure, Norman, that you are pleased to see me again?" she interrogated, gently. "Pleased 1 Why, Philippa, of course I ar». What a strange question 1" "Because," she said, "there seems to be a cloud—a shadow—between us that I do not remember to have existed before." "We are both older," he explained, "and the familiarity of childhood cannot exist when childhood ceases to be." "I would rather be a child forever than that you should change to me," she said quickly. "I think,'' he said gravely, "that the only change in.me is that I aamire you more than I have ever done."

And these words filled her with the keenest sense of rapture yet they were hut commonplace enough, if she had only realized it.

CHAPTER VIII. \(t 'i

Lord Arleigh raised his hat fiom his brow and ktood for a few minutes bareheaded in the starlight He felt like a man who had been in the stifling atmosphere of a conservatory warmth^and perfume had dazed him. How beauu il Philippa was—how bewildering! What a nameless, wondrous charm there was about her.. No wonder that half London was at her feet, and that her smiles were ecgerly sought He was not the'least in love with her admiration, homage, liking, but not love—anything but that —filled him yet he dreamed of her, thought of her, compared her face with 'others than he had seen—all simply because her beauty had dazed him. "I can believe now in the sirenB of old," he said tQhimself "they must have had just such dark, glowing eyes, such ric h, sweet voices and beautiful faces, should pity the man who hopelessly loved Philippa L'Estrange and, if she ever lo^es anyone, it will be easy for her to win who could resist her?"

How little he dreamed that the whole passionate love of her heart was given to himself—'that to win from him one word of love, a single token of affection, she would nave diven all that she had in the world!

On the following day he received note it said simply: "Dear Norman—Can you join me in a

ride?

I have anew horse which they tell me is too spirited. I shall not be afraid to try it if you are with me. lours,

"Fhbjppa."

He could not refuse—indeed, he never thonght of refusing—why should he?. TJie beautiful girl who asked this kindness from him was his old friend and playfellow. He hastened to Verdun house and found Philippa waiting for him. "I knew you would come," she said. "Lady Peters said you would be engaged. I thought differently^."

very pressing engagement to keep me from tne pleMure o* attending you." He had thought her perfect on the previous evening, in tbf glitter of jewels and the gorgeous costumaof amber and White yet, if possible, she* looked even better on this morning. Her riding habit was neat and plain, fitting close to the perfect figure,showing every gracious line and curve.

Philippa L'Estrange possessed that rare accomplishment among women, a graceful "seat" on horseback. Lord Arleigh could not help noticing the admiring glances cast on her as they entered the park together. He saw how completely she was queen of society. Unusual homage followed her. She was the observed of all observers all the men seemed to pause and look at her. Lord Arleigh heard repeatedly, as they rode along, the question, "Who is that beautiful girl Every one of note or distinction contrived to speak to her. The Prince of Auboine, at tnat time the most feted guest in England, could hardly leave her. Yet, in the midst of all, Lord Arleigh saw that die turned to him as the sunflower to the sun. No .matter with whom she was conversing, she never for one moment forgot him, never seemed inattentive, listened to him, smiled her brightest on him, while the May sun shone, and the white hawthorn flowers fell on the grass—while the birds chirped merrily, and crowds of bright, happy people pressed to and fro. "How true she is to her old friends!" thought Lord Arleigh, when he saw that even a prince could not take her attention from him.

So they rode on through the sunlit air •he fancy free, she loving him every moment with deeper, truer, warmer love. "I should be so glad, Norman," she said to him, "if you would give me a few riding lessons. I amn sure I need them."

He looked at the graceful figure, at the little hands that held the reins so deftly. "I do not see what there is to teach you," he observed "I have never seen any one ride better." "Still I should be glad of some little instruction from you," she said. "I always liked riding with yon, Norman." "I shall be only too pleased to ride with you every dav when I am in town," he told her and, though he spoke kindly, with smiling lips, there was no warmth of love in his tone.

The day was very warm—the sun had in it all the heat of June. When they reached Verdun house, Philippa-eaid: "You will come in for a short time, Norman? You look worn and tired. William—the butler—is famous for bis claret-cup."

He murmered something about being not fatigued, but disinclined for conversation. "You will not see any one," she said you shall come to my own particular little room, where no one dares enter, and we will have a quiet'conversation there."

It seemed quite useless to resist her. She had a true siren power of fascination. The next minute saw him seated in the cool, shady boudeir, where the mellow light came in, rose-filtered through the silken blinds, and the perfumed air was sweet. Lady Peters, full of solicitude,

waB

there, with the iced

claret cup, thinking he was tired and warm. It was so like home that he could not help feeling happy.

Pres-ently Lady Peters retired for a few minutes, and in came Philippa. She had changed her riding-costume for a white silk neglige that fell around her in1 loose, graceful folds. She wore no flowers jewels, or ribbons, but the dark masses of her hair were unfastened, and bung around- the white neck there was a warm, bright flush on her face, "with the last touch of languor in her manner. She threw herself back in her lounging chair, with a dreamy smile— "You see that I make no stranger of you, Norman."

From beneath the white silken folds jieeped a tiny embroidered slipper a eweled fan lay near her, and with it she gently stirred the perfumed air. He watched her with admiring eyes. "You look like a picture that I have seen, Philippa," he said. "What picture?". Bhe aske^ with a smile. "I cannot tell you, but I am quite sure that I have seen one like you. What picture would you care to resemble?"

A sudden gleam of light came into her dark eyes. "The one underneath which you would write 'Mf Queen,'" she said hurriedly.

He did not understand. "I think every one with an eye to beauty would call you 'queen,'" he observed, lightly. The graver meaning of her speech had quite escaped him.

Then Lady Peters returned, and the conversation changed. "We are going to hear an opera bouffe to-night," said Philippa, when Lord Arleigh was leaving. "Will you come and be our escort?" "You will have a box filled with noisy chatterers the whole night," he remarked, laughingly. "They shall all make room for you, Norman, if you will come," she said. "It is 'La Grande Duchesse,' with the far-famed Madame Schneider as her Grace of Gerolstein." "I have not heard it yet," returned Lord Arleigh. "I cannot say that I have any great admiration for that school of music, but if you wish it, I will go, Philippa." "It will increase my enjoyment a hun-dred-fold," she s?: gently, if you go." "How can I reft when you say that? I will be here punctually," he promised and again the thought crossed his mind how true she was to her old friends—how indiffeient to new ones!

On that evening Philippa changed her customary style ot dress—it was no longer the favorite amber, so rich in hue and texture, but wjiite, gleaming silk, relieved by dashes of crimson. A more artistic or beautiful dress could not have been designed. She wore crimson roses in her dark hair, and a cluster of crimson roses on her white breast. Her bouquet was of the same odorous flowers.

In the theater Lord "Arleigh noticed that Philippa attracted more attention than any one else, even though the hot^ae was crowd

She looked at him gravely. He continued— "Beauty is very chaiming, I grant—as are grace and talent but the chief charm to me of a woman

is

"You did well to trust roe," he re-1 est charm," he said. turned, laughingly "it would require a| "But," she persisted, "do you not think

that-is rather hard? Why must a woman never evince a preference for tbe man she loves?" "Woman should be wooed nev«r be the wooer,1' said Lord Arleigh. "Again I say you are hard, Norman, According to you, a woman is to break her heart in silence and sorrow for a man, rather than give him the least idea that she cares for him." "I should say there is a happy ^medium between the Duchess of Gerolstein and a broken heart Neither men nor women can help their peculiar disposition, but in my opinion a man never cares less for woman than w'hen he sees she wants to win his liking."

He spoke with such perfect freedom from all consciousness^ that she knew the words could not be intended for her nevertheless she had learned a lesson from them. "I am like yourself, Norman," she said—"I do.not care for the play at all we will go home," and they left the house before the Grand Duchess had played her p&rt. [To be cmtmued in the Sunday Express.]

ABOUT CHURCH PROPERTY.

How tt Is Held In (he Roman Catholic

Church*

Philadelphia North American.

One of the most important matters settled in the Council of Roman Catholic Bishops at Baltimore related to church property. The council affirmed the right of the church to possess temporal goodr condemned those who disapprove of the temporal power of the pope, and asserted that the church has the light of. administering its own property.

Bishops were instructed to prepare inventories of the property they held as bishops, as trustees, or as their personal belonginss, and to make a will within three months of their consecration, and have two copies of the will—one for their archives, the other for their archbishop. Every possible care must be taken to distinguish the personal property from the church property, so as to avoid complications. The bishops were also instructed to see that the title deeds to the church real estate were properly prepared, and to require every rector to give a yearlyaccount of his administration, and have his books examined by a committee. The rector's accounts must be read every January to the congregation.

The salary of the priests must be set tied by the synods of the dioceses, and Christmas and Easter collections for the benefit of the pastors were forbidden, unless the bishops allow them to keep, those collections, on the ground that the church is so poor that an adequate salary can not be given to the priests.

One of the wisest decisions reached by the council was to forbid bishops or priests to act as private bankers. The scandals at Cincinnati were a great lesson to the fathers. In New York and many other pieces in this country even the lay brothers of some convents and sisters of the various orders are intrusted by poor people with their saviBgs. The words of the council on this subject, translated from the Latin, are: "To avoid serious consequences-that might easily arise from holding much money, it is forbidden iii future to any bishop, rector, or other ecclesiastical person to act as private banker. II any are still acting in that capacity we decree that they stop within five years, unless the holy congregation grants a prolongation- of the time."

The rectors were directed to keep an account of all receipts and expenditure? of the church to make an inventory of all the belongings of the church and send it to the chancellor of the bishop to consider as belonging to the mission ot. to the church anything giVW* to the rector, unless the contrary is specially mentioned by the donor, and to make a will and to leave something to the poor or to the church. The priest should have a safe to keep the documents of the mission, must not build or repair the church buildings without special permission, must not contract debts, nor keep money on deposit, nor put it at interest unless duly authorized. Bishops will not hold themselves responsible for money which the priest has borrowed or received on deposit wiihout their »iermis eion.' Priests must not hold church property in their own names, but it must be in the bishop's name, and church money in bank must be in the church name. Pastors must not loan their own money to their churches unless authorized, and must have the deeds properly made and deposited in the archives of the diocese They must also insure all their buildings against fire.

Trustees of the churches must be chosen from names proposed by the pastor. They must be approved By the bishop, and will remain in office at hii will. They must have' seats in their own church, send their children to Catholic schools, and must not belong to any secret society.

SECRETS OF A SERAGLIO

Throne ot Beaten Gold and Miracles oi Fine Work In Precious Metal.

The London Times prints a letter from J. C. Robinson which is of great interest to oriental scholars and to historians and antiquarians. It recounts a visit.^ 1 by the writer to the old seraglio in Constantinople, which never before has been penetrated by a "/iropean, so jealously are its treasure warded.

Among tne extraordinary things described by Mr., Robinson is a throne made entirely of beaten gold and jeweled with thousands of rubies, pearls and emeralds. It is a most magnificent and dazzling structure, but inartistic in de-i sign ana execution. Among the ancie Turkish armor which Mr. Robinson ei amined were a number of cimeters anV saddle cloths incrusted with splendid jewels, which formed almost the entire visible surface. There were also gorgeous examp'.^s of ancient Persian textile fabric^ which are very rich and beautiful.

A.

Jl he saw opera-glasses turner

constantly toward her beautiful face. Miss L'Estrange kept her word, srang but little to those who would fain have engrossed her whole attention—that was given to Lord Arleigh. She watched his face keenly throughout the performance. He did not evince any great interest in it ou do not care for 'La Grande Duchesse?" she said, suddenly. "No—frankly, I do not," he replied. "Tell me why," said Philippa. "Can you ask me to do so, Philippa?" he returned, surprised and then he added: "I wUl tell you. First of all, despite the taking music, it is a performance to which I should not care to bring my wife and sister." "Tell me why," she said again. "It lowers my idea of womanhood. I could not forgive the woman, let her be duchess or peasant, who could show any man such great love, who could lay herself out so deliberately to win a man."

her modesty, just as

the great chanh of a lily is

itB

whiteness

Bo you not agree with me Philippa?" "Yes," she replied, "most certainly I do 'but, Norman, you are hard upon us. Suppose that a woman loves a man ever so truly—she must not make any sign?" "Any sign she might make would most certainly, in my opinion, lessen her great-

Robinson also found there some Chinese scroll-work, which was the only jlass of production in which artistic workmanship was discernible. The su?.tan|s treasury is deficient in old European bijouterie, and contains none of the choicest art treasures of Greece and Rome which the sultans must have captured at the storming of Constantinople, but which were probably dispensed as presents to court favoi ^es and pashas. The ladies of the. harems, Mr. Robinson says, revel in the pomp ana magnificence of the barbaric east, bnt of the radiance of Greece there is nothing.

They Didn' Get the Pufr "Do you want a pug dog?" was asked a prominent business man in Boston the other day, says the Globe. "How much do you ask for him "Nothing there is a man in Marlboro who wishes to give one away, lie wont sell, but wishes to secure a good master for it"

This is one of a great many similar dialogues held in Boston quite lately. Those called upon were invariably business men, ana as a large number wished

Buch

THE fHXFKE88 TJfiKi^E HAUTE, SUKJJAY, JANUARY 10, 1886.

an animal, a name and ad­

dress being given by the person, they sent to Marlboro, some simply letters or postals, some money sufficient to pay charges of transportation, some telegrams, and one man even sent a box to pack the canine in. This rather surprised the postmaster and expressman as they saw the uncalled-for letters mount up till they became an imposing mound. The postmaster endeavored to discover the addresses, but was unable to do so, as the man had given a ^fictitious name to each person whom he had "taken in."

A THOUSAND TO FIYE.

If you take a sharp turn to the right midway on the Ifley ro*d betwean the city of Oxon and Littlemore asylum, a beautiful green lane will bring you to the locks and the narrow foot-bridge which, for convenience, is placed acrosB the flood-gates, that you may pass to the opposite bank of the Thames. The antique city lier still to your righi. ..

The bank on which you stand has a wide foot-path, which narrows as you recede from-the city. Here the river deepens slightly, while a few yards farther on the stream grows so shallow that rank thongh not unpicturesque weeds and water-flowers spring up to greet the eve.

It was the day after the Oxford and Cambridge boat-race. At the former university things were unusually quiet, though the crews were far from discouraged. At the latter there was high glee. After many successive years of struggling and defeat Cambridge had once more won the day.

Yet a few earnest cockswains and trainers might be seen in busy conversation at the various newly painted and gilded boat houses, and not a few canoes and gigs had demanded the opening of the locks that morning. Still tne marked excitement and bustle of the three preceding days had now all but died away. "Yes, Jack, that was the bet." "Fearful odds,. wasn't it?" chimed in Bently Knoll. "But say, old fellow, do tell us that tale," pursued the first speaker, a stalwart among the three yonng crack oarsmen of the first Oxford crew.

He addressed Paul Clifton. They were seated with elbows on knees and half reclining over the rail of Magdalen college boat house. All were attired in loose blouses, sleeves tucked up, white boating trousers and canvass shoes.

Paul Clifton, ot "Capt. Clif," as his companions sometimes called him, was the oldest fellow in Jesus college. With a forehead largely intellectual, though pinched in face, and slightly stooped, he was deemed the largest-beaited fellow in all Oxfordshire. "I'm a whale if you fellows don't bore a man," was the reply, accompanied with the best-nalured of grins. "But say, Clif, we chaps ne heard that story, and, then, you tell it & Jl."

A slap between the shoulders, and Paul coughed. All laughed heartily and the old scholar began: "Well, my lads, you must know that Maud Caveliere, as we called her, was in her own right one of the noblest, wealthiest, prettiest, and proudest ladies in all Oxon. She had seen 19 beautiful summers she was a gem of a girl—a regular darling. Both her parents were deari, and her uncle, with whom she lived, was dean of Magdalen college and one among the most indulgent of old gentlemen. "Throughout our university city Lady Maud was the rage and adoration of young and old. I tell you, my ladn, there are some women who are to the earth as angels, and to marry them is in part to spoil them. Such was Lady Maud. "Well, it was just twenty seven years ago, and Christopher Lund was the poorest undergraduate. So poor that the chapel mice shunned his scanty apartment and ran affrighted into their holes at his approach. Yet by his pen he managed to maintain bself at college and in a large measureMilped to support an invalid sister at an incurable home in Wales. He was a fjUiet, earnest, honest fellow, and we all pitied him, and, without his knowing it, helped him in a hundred little wayB. "Next to my room and domiciled in luxury- lived young Tankerville, the Creesus of our college. His father's inheritance bad but fallen to him some months before and he deserved it He was a capital fellow, large-hearted, empty-headed, and brimful of sport His pocket-book was ever open. J:

"It was one of those sultry July mornings at tbe date referred to when Lund, Tankerville, myself and five other chums stood Under abroad tree near the gate of the now Botanic gardens. Through the branches and short shrubs we could all but see the college bridge. We had turned out for an airing that morning. Cigars were lighted and anecdotes of interest weze being told, when suddenly the conversation turned and the subject of our remarks became the belle ana 'first lady in Oxon.' "'Hold!' cried 1 ankerville, pointing in the direction of the bridge. 'Why, there she is- Speak of an angel and'She rsitjiy ever appears,' I rejoined. 'By Jove! and ou her morning walk to Ifley,' he continued. "I glanced at the speaker and said: 'Strange, Tank, that no man seems to have «ver approached, much less attempted to woo, Lady Maud.' 'She is proud,' returned Tankerville, and his eyes dropped a little: Brightening up, however, he looked in th% direction of Lund, and, with the faintest twinkle of the left eye, exclaimed, with emphasisA thousand *o five that not a man in Oxon will jady Maud without offending her 'I'll take your *ager," replied Christp| pher Lund, quietly, 'and what is more*! will accomplish the feat publicly am wit^u thirty minutes.' "I' eed not say how the boys apart ad gazed at Lund in Utter wonderment. There was silence, but only for an instant longer. Tankerville and ChristophC- shook hands. Lund foV®a moment scri/che'd his forehead, and, half soliloquizing, said: 'ButAhere to raise the £5?' 'Oh, Chris, never mi»\d that,' we all said in one voice. 'Here, old fellow, we'll loan you the sum. "Within three minutes later our plans were completed. Tankerville and your humble servant were to follow Christophor at a i&fe distance, wb:le he was to approach Miss Maud Cavaliers midway up the Ifley road. No sooner said than done. The other fellows agreed to remain in the shrub garden, and for more than half an hour smoked chatted, and speculated widely as to Christopher's venture. We walked leisurely behind while Lund bounded forward with a light step. For fully a quarter of an hour all was suspense. Our heroine had advanced far ahead but Christopher was quick in his movements and presently was within a few yards or Lady Maud. "We saw him gracefully remove his cap and walk to her side. Lightninglike we observed her draw 4ip and face

Lund as in indignation. As watchers on, myself and Tankerville were too far behind to overhear anything. In lees than an hour, however, the latter soon became convinced that he had lost the wager. "Her account mon'hs afterward of the little episode of that July morning was touching, ikphall never foiget it In her own words, softened occasionally by a smile, she said: '"Mr. Lund, on removing his cap, bowed low and said: "Madam, you are a lady I am a gentleman. As such, the laws of etiquette forbid me to approach you without ie introduction. When, however, yop^wsve heard my speech, I know full weothat your mercy and gentleness of spirit will suspend all law in my behalf. A wager of £1,000 has this day been laid that no .man in Oxen will dare approach and tender a kiss without giying you just offense. I have undertaken to succeed and my claims upon you are these: I am the poorest among the poor law students at the college. I have an invalid sister at a home in Wales. Her life hangs on a thread, and £1,000 may aid in sparing her to me. I love her with a devotion that exceeds

desperation, and should she die I feel that my life Will be & blank." ."'Of course I allowed him the kiss— an act which he performed with a grace I shall never forget On hearing his tale, and as his lips pressed my cheek, I felt a tear quivering beneath my eyelid. I turned quickly to brash it off and the young man was gone. The wager, you will say, was won. And now, Mr. Clifton, you know the rest My Chris is to-day the dearest, and among the most selfish of husbands.

"Boys," said Paul Clifton, drawing himself up, "my story is told. My old friend is no more a struggling law-stu dent His sister lives and is in joyous health at this hour. Lady Lund leads our best society and is adored by poor and rich. And Christopher, why, ne is no less a personage than the squire of well, you fellows never mind where.'

THE YANKEE*CHEESE-BOX.

Captain Ericsson's Account of the Bescne of the Monitor's Survivors. Osntory. N

After a fearful and dangerous passage over the frantic seas, we reached the Rhode Island which still had the towline caught in her wheel and had drifted perhaps two miles to leeward. We came alongside under the lee bows, where the first boat, that had left the Monitor nearly an hour before, had just discharged its men but we found that getting on board the Rhode Island was a harder task than getting from the Monitr We were carried by the sea from to stern, forto have made fast would 'nave been fatal the boat was bounding against the ship's sides sometimes it was below the wheei. and then, on the summit of a huge wave, far above the decks then the two boats wonld crash together: and once, while Surgeon Weeks was holding on to the rail he lost his fingers by a collision which swamped the other boat Lines were thrown to us from the deck of the Rhode Island, which wereof no assistance, for not one of us could climb a small rope* and besides, the men who threw them would immediately let go tht ir holds in their excitement to throw another— which I found to be the case, when I kept hauling.in rope instead of climbing.

It must be understood that two vessels lying side by side, when there is any motion to the sea, move alternately or in other words, .one is constantly passing the other up or down. At one time, when our boar-was near the bows of the steamer, we would rise upon the sea until we could touch her rail, and then, in an instant, by a very rapid descent, we would touch her keel. While we were thus lising and falling upon the sea I caught a rope, and, rising with- the boat, manap to reach within a foot or two of the rai^ when a man, if there had been one, could easily have hauled me on board. But they had all followed after the boat 'which at that instant wa* washed astern, and I Ifung dangling la the air over the bow of the Rhode Island, with Ensign Norman Atwater hanging to the cathead, three or four leet from mc, like mjself clinging to a rope, and shouting for some one to sare him. Our hands grew painful and all the time weaker, until I saw his strength give way. He slipped a foot, canght again, and with his last prayer, "On, God 1" I saw him fall and sink to rise no more. The ship rolled and rose upon the sea, sometimes with her keel out of water, so that I was hanging thirty feet above the sea, and with rotate in view that had befallen our nr 'h-beloved companion, which no oner .witnessed but myself. I sjiH clu- to the rope with aching haj calling in vain helpf/ But I could not be heart', for the wind shrieked far above my voice. My heart here, for the first time in my life, gave up hope, and hoire and fri^ Is were most tenderly thonght of. Wh was in this state, within in a few seconds of giving up, the sea rolled forward, bringing with ittheboat, and when I would have fallen into the sea it was there. I can only recollect hearing an old sailor say, as I fell into the bottom of the beat: "Where in did he come from

NAPOLEON'S COUP D'ETAT.

Impelled to Perpetrate It by the English Royal Family, Paris Letterto Hiondon Truth.

It is an established fact that Napoleon TIT, was impelled to perpetrate the coup d'etat by the active part which the English royal family—in a Saxe-Coburg interest—took in furthering M. Giiizot's project of getting the Comte de Chambord to discard the white flag and adopt the Co'mte de Paris. According to an article from an Orleanist pen, in Mme. Adam's review, not oijly the queen and Prince Albert were in the affair, but the Duchesses of Kent and Cambridge. The intervention of the latter was due, it has been explained to me, to the pressure put upon her by her nephew-in-law, the Prince of Holstein (now King Christian), and of her nephew, now Landgrave Frederick of Hesse, whose first wife was a daughter of the Czar Nicholas. At the time of-the coup d'etat the Danish succession andi ,he duchies were very much befoie Eupe. The Prince of Holstein, who had a political agent at Denmark St Nicholas, wanted to be made crown prince oi Denmark by a diplomatic conference. There were many difficulties in the way. Qne of them was the objection of the Emperor Nichola to exchange views, except in the most formal manner, with the government of the French republic. He wanted, of all things, Christian to get the crown he coveted but it was hard to obtain it for him un

An Amicable Arrangemnet.

Philadelphia Gall.

"I am in a quandary, Snigg.' I called to see Emily last night and she informed me that all was over." "Fired you For bat reason "She insisted that I must give up smoking." "And y&u can't make that sacrifice to win her hand?" "I don't believe I could." "Let me suggest a plan. Compromise the matter—give up smoking until alter your marriage."

An extensive copper region is known to exfet in Texas, running westward of Red river, from the line of the Indian Territory, through several counties. The ore is found principally in shallow pockets, and averages about 54 or 65 per cent of metallic copper.

WHITNEY'S WEALTH.

Secretary of the Navy to Do the 8ocUil Honors for the Administration, Washington Special.

Secretary Whitney and his wife, who are the moneyed people of the cabinet, theNew Yorkers and the swells generally, have prepared for their coming social career at the capital by taking the residence of the late Secretary Frelinghuysen, and by additions, decorations and furnishings, made quite anew place of it It was a plain, substantia], double red brick house on I street, and was built by Mr. Frelinghuysen when he first came here as a senator. During his long residence it was the scene of a continuous and elegant hospitality, and the best traditions of the Arthur social regime cling to it Secretary Whitney has enlarged the dining-room, built on a ball room, and provided butler's pantries extensive enough for the needs of the largest entertainment*. Mr. Watson, the New York art decorator, and Mr. Kelly, the architect of the clwnges and additions, have done in six weeks the work of months. The walls were lined with wood, felt, tar-paper, iincrusta and cloth, to save the delays and dangers of plasterjfiig, and the work has gone on like magic. The little office or* recepticn room at the right of the entrance has been papered in dull electric blue, with freeze and ceiling of gold. The curtains of the windows and book cases are of amber brocad9, and a superb piece of antique plush, in dull yellow, covers the space above the mantel. A fine piece of old Flemish tapestry ornairents one wa'l, and the furniture is upholstered in electric blue, The colors in the carpet, walls and portieres of the hail are dull red.

The dining-room, greatly enlarged, has the woodwork painted black and the walls covered with vatin brocade of a vivid carnation ted. Some fine ornamental pieces grace this room, notably i«b old Ssvres clock and a large pair of old blue Hawthorne jars, and the buffet and side-table of antique mahogany are covcred with -fine silver and crystal. The two parlors are papered and draped in delicately colored fabrics, in which the amber tones predominate. The furniture is gilded wicker with cushions in psile striped and fringed brocades, and the low tables h»ve covers of antique laces over silk, tied with satin ribbons. The effect is varying, bright and pretty, and by gaslight these pailors are charming. Connected with the parlore by a little alcoveway, filled with palms, is the large ball room which Secretary Whitney has added" to the house. It is a beautiful apart-, ment, over forty feet in length and nearly twenty in width, and is lighted from above and by a long baywindow recess at one side. The bay is raised by a platform reached by four curving steps, and makes a break in the long wall and a point for decorative effects, besides being the place for musicians when a ball is given. The walls are wainscoted in dull gold, and the paper is a rich design of crimson and gold, with frieze and ceiling'of pv gold. A monumental fire-place in a deep recess fills the end of the room, tbe facing of the mantel and the hearthstone being of yellow Sienna marble. Superb rugs, many low tables with shaded lamps, and odd and beautiful pieces of furniture make the most artistic arrangement of this large apartment A huge gilded arm-chair, upholstered in Genoese velvet, that stands by the fire-place, is known as the preti dent's chair, and was used and enjoyi most by tbe president when he was the guest of Secretary Whitney at their New York house. A pair of fine screens ornamenting this rootny.^re paneled with fine Gobelin tapesj^ representing the Napoleonic eagle, ae i, "cea, bees ar.d conventional laurel wreath^?of the First Empire wrought in gold on a bright crimson ground. The fabric had been sadly worn and iniured before it was rescued and mounted in its present shap-, and these Napoleon screens are among the choicest of the many interesting things in the room.- A sidan chair in one corner has been cleverly turned into a ca

:net

for bric-a-brac, and with palms

hei "Where, soft cushions of old brocades "Needlework, and fine antiqtie and Oi.^ tJ embroideries scattered through the apartment, the effect is moat happy. Fine paintings Adorn the wall, brought from the gallsry_ of Mrs. Whitney's superb home if /York, '^his beautiful houss which is virtually

uew

one, while blessed with all the

sentiment att ching to its associations as an old one, was christened to-night by a house-warming party. A dinner nf twenty was given to the president and the members of his cabinet, which was quite a family affair. There were present the president and his sister, Secretary Bayard, and his two daughters, Secretary and Mrs. Manning, Secretary and Mrs. Endicott, Miss Endicott, Mr. Wm. Endicott, Postmaster (-eneral and Mrs. Vilas, Senator Payne, Admiral Rogers and Mrs. Lawrence Hopkins, Miss Howard, of New York, and Miss Mabel Weddel, of Cleveland, these last three ladies being guests visiting in the house. Later in the evening the company was augumented by other friends invited to assist in the house-warming, and it was a veiy merry and pleasant gathering.

L,. The Babboon Makes a Call.. New York Herald. Mr. Purdy, .ofStaten Island, brought his baboon to this cily yerterday t6 make New Year's calls and have his photograph taken before he returned to his native clime. Jamboree, as the baboon is called, was in great form on the boat. A kind hearted driver of a lager beer equipage tapped a keg of beer, and Jamboree hissed down the first glass. It was

less by stooping to be civil to Louis qUiCkly snatchcd it out of his master's Napoleon. The Duchess ^of Cambridge,

therefore, to promote^ a ^Hesse-Hols em interest, and the qu/m, tk-* prince consort and the Duchess of Kent to forward a Saxe-Coburg one, all labored to bring about a fusion. Hence her majesty's burst of anger when she learned that Pam had, without consulting he- felicitated LouiB Napoleon on the success of his coup d'etat We can not suppose that, the Victor Hugo point of view was taken at Windsor. The considerations which dominated there were that reigning families form a trades nnicn, and that two dau^ters and a son of Louis Phillippe were -led to SaxeCoburgs. I propose some to show how tne Saxe-Coburg interk uas conflicted with the English since 1840 in the way which may have serious consequences for England. En attendant, the Battenberg, George of Greece, or Waldemar interests should not be allowed to weigh a feather in the decisions of our foreign office.

hand

Jambo

intended for Mr. Purdy, but

befoie he had time to drink it. "See ho^.intelligent he is," Mr. Purdy, "in letting us know that he is dry. jGive him another glass." The two beers had a quieting^effect on the baboon,swho took a naptntil awakened by the concert on the boat he then got up and howled and bit the man who played the flute. '"See how intelligent he is," repeated Mr. Purdy.

The carriage drive up Broadway was highly appreciated by tile "little pet" He had to be restrained from getting out of the window and sitting on the wheel. At the first house at which they stopped Jambo was overwhelmned with attention from the hostess and her daughters, and Jambo behaved with becoming dignity. He saluted them by hitching up an imaginary pair of trousers, just as he had seen the sailors on shipboard do when addressing the old sea captain, and he pulled an. imaginary tuft of hair over his left eye. .The only trouble was thai he wanted to get up on the refreshment table and sit on the pound cake and pick the icing off, but was gently but firmly dissuaded from doing so. and everything went well until a gentleman caller sprin kled a little wine in umbo's face. It took Jumbo exactly eleven seconds to muss up the caller beyond further possible use for the day, besides biting his -finger severely. Mr. Purdy said there was no fun going about calling with such an ill-tem-pered brute, so he took Jumbo down and chained him to the steam heater in

-thi

cellar. It is doubtful now if Mr. Sarony will have a sitting of the wonderful animal. As for the people of Staten Island, they say there will be a war if Mr. Purdy brings Jumbo back.

A Country Editor on the Dying Year. Mr. Jake

Child in the Richmond Conservator.

After a week of somber weather the leaden curtain slowly lifted Wednesday evening unveiling the setting sun which

cast a ruddy glow across the landscape lighting it up with regal splendor, iS glory gilding pane and spire like a saila from the Deity, then this stars came out, Venas leading the heavenly host, twinkling brightly as they lit up th« dusky dome, sentinel lights to tubit is the last day of a dying year whkii MSne in as graceful as a bride doweted wtih the radiance of love, the sun rising in nnflecked sky, a soft wind blowii^, fektib singing with grass growing green on tih» prairie and natare in her most waattih mood seemed to cast her favors round tt lavishly as a conrt beauty, heeding nM the dying monarch, coquetting with tte hours, smiles and frowns, that usher ia the coming heir of the seasons that tomorrow assumes the scepter, and without a tear or ermine robe in the sarcophagus of ages

Has

gathered 1885.

FORGOT THE OLD LADY.

The Farmer's Shopping To«r Hut Be* stilted Unpleapantljr.

Uncle B., from one of the towns jast out of Lewistoii, says the Journal of €jat enterprising Maine city, is a perous farmer. He has a snug count, a pleasant home, and a He is well along to the shady but his face is round and so f' it belies his years, while his wife's are as rosy as winter Baldwins. are a finely preserved couple ton traders like to meet them counter.

Uncle B. usually drives in at this son of the year alone. Somet summer his amiable lady corpse him, but usually at this putting down pork and piling up Tuesday of this week, however, ft decided that she should make the They arrived at 2 o'clock in the noon at one of the Lisbon street goods 8tor®, and leaving her, he droi on a little business. He went to the 1 and talked with the cashier. He dr up to the blacksmith's shop to Del shoes sharpened on the olid mare. sold some butter, bought a coal hod tbe hardware store, and put in a bl^ cottonseed at the grain store. It pc him whether he better market hay wait until spring, and he was thinki it when he turned his maie's nose'] Main street bridge and chirruped dap'' to her along the homeward

He unhitched, having driven into the barn, and having fed and hia horse, went into the house. He to anchor in the arm chair in frost of kitchen fire, where the girls were ge^ supper. He yanked off hia beois pulled up the toe of his blue stocking. He had a vague impreasion of having forgotten something. He tbot^Kt he would ask his wife. "Where's your mother?" he said, looking around, as he held his left stockinged foot in his right hand. "Where's who?" replied his ^eldest daughter, as she stood astonished, with a tea plate in her hand "Why, where'i your mother?" "Out ic the barn, ain't she? Didn't she come with you? You ought to know where she is!" "If any one," said Uncle B., in telling this story on Wednesday in Lewis ton, "had 'a flung me heels over head into oar muck bed I couldn't felt so mean, but I braced up and I says: 'I reckon I know where your mother is. She said she'd wait for me at Oswald & Armstrong's, on Lisbon street, and I think I'd better not stop for any supper before I just drive down and get her.' Well, I djr~~ dowa to Lewiston and found her. vaa 'a sittin' there, kind of mad, boat 6:30 o'clock. She didat-sS worth mentionin'to you. We pretty hearty when we reachet^k The next time I take her with mel| I'll tie a string around my finger/'

NOTES ABOUT SCIENCS.

Anew apparatus, called the "meldpmeter," has been designed for the mldfescopic study of minerals in a state «f fusion.

A German chemist has ascertained th^ prussic acid, corrosive sublimate and ewphurated hydrogen destroy the germinating power of seeds.

It is claimed that palmetto fiber wktfh has been prepared by a mechanical dft cess, as yet a secret with the inventor,!* stood remarkable tests as a coveting K& underground wires.

It is stated that the addition of a sbm|1 percentage of cobalt to copper greatly ittcreases the tenacity, of that metal. lit has even been estimared^as high 100 per cent, increase of tenacity. 'In some of the Austrian coal work is suspended in dangerous places during a fall in the barometer, experiments having .proved that the quantity and intensity of explosive gasses greathr increase as the atmospheric preeMre ominishes.

Speculation is still rife as to changes in the Andromeda nebula. M. Trauvelot asserts that with a small telescope he now observes a thirteenth magnitude star, which tbe large instrument of the Harvard college observatory failed to show him in 1874.

Dr. G. Rolhfs advances the theory that woolen clothing is unhealty to wear in, the tropics, basing his argument on th» fact that sheep from cold countries seon loss their wool in Central Africaj and that lions lose their heavy manes in hot regions.-

Plush goods and all articles dyed gjth aniiine colors-, fadgd~ l?oto exposure to light, will look bright as ever after I sponged with chloroform. The mercial chloroform will answer the pn pose very well, and is mueh less expense when purified.

M. Cortes, the microsdOpttt, aftei mookt experimenting as to the effects of variot fluids on the tissues of the cl&red that lemon juice is thl able, as it has the property the animalculse which infest the stoma of that moliusk.

ra/m-

Etestxojw stomaoh

M. L. For^uignon states that the continuous heating of cast iron for several days in" a vacuum causes the metal f» become malleable, and to have a tupforuily black surface.dotted with black grains of amorphous graphite. Tbe heating must not reach the melting point

A Berlin surgeon recently removed

some dead bone from a mans arm isi then substituted a large piece of healthy bone from the leg of another man after amputation rendered neoeesary by an accident Tbe bone became .nnsfr attached and made j. very successful operation.

Near Tuscarora, Nev., luminous tree* have been discovered in one of the valleys. The foliage at certain seasons givw out so much light that small print can b# read nights at tne immediate^yicinity and the general luminosity is visible for some miles. It is supposed that

sites are the cause.

insect

para­

How Women Wash Their Pace*. Chicago Tribune. A woman was in disguise and waa fae« ing from some crime she had She was traveling in a stage eoafSjuA stopped at a country inn. The alighted and the supposed man with tbe others. All went to the 'shelf at the end of the porch. Aau was sitting leaning against the post of porch. He was watching the weaiaa disguise as she washed her face a*i 1 hands, and when she was done he at arrested her. He discovered her rest b.' her manner of applying the water in washing her face. All men rob up a »l down and snort All womep apply th« water and stroke gently downward.