Indianapolis Journal, Indianapolis, Marion County, 19 May 1883 — Page 11

UNDER AN IMBAKLLI. UolY’a MafAiine. Edwin Dunstan was a Devonshire man, •tkerwise be would never thought of carrying an umbrella on that “glorious Ist of lone;” but those who lire in the “West eountrie” have a saying that “if the weather be fine when you go out, you should take an umbrella; if it rains, you may do as you please.” It had been very fine, an exquisite morning, and several bright-faced young girls had peeped eagerly from behind their closed blinds before the nightingale had finished his song, to see what the weather was like, and had uttered exclamations of delight at the beauty of the rising sun (a beauty which only a few daily witness), and had curled themselves round again in their soft beds for another sleep, to take all the rest they could before the day’s pleasure began, for Radleigh-on-Thames was a gay, sociable little place, and Mrs. Roley, who was the leader in it as regarded fashion and society, on this Ist of June was to give a water-party. At 11 in the morning a large “shallop” was moored against the landing-stage of one of those charming places which are so plentiful upon the river’s banks. Mrs. Roley’s house (there was a Mr. Roley, and he, too, lived decorously at Ripplebank; but the lady was decidedly the better half, both ae to size, popularity and abilities, and he was generally known as “Mrs. Roley’s husband”) so, we repeat, Mrs. Roley’s house was one of the prettiest of those delightful water-side residences which are so pleasant in summer and so utterly doleful in winter. It had many gables; its outer walls were clad with charming flowering plants; its porches were trellised and rose-hung; its gardens were bejeweled with all the bright blossoms which horticulture could suggest. It bad its stable, and a well-filled stable, too; its conservatory, its billiard-room, its boat-house, with a smoking-room over, its tennis-ground and the softest of mossy lawns leading down to the river’s brink, where the willows waved their branches with a quiet, lazy motion, gently kissing the passing stream, and a hammock rocked tenantless among the scented leaves of the walnut. As tb# boat was moored, a tall, handsome woman of some thirty years of age walked alowly across the grass, followed by a small man dressed in boating costume, and several servants carrying hampers, etc. All at once the dark eyes* of Mrs. Roley—and handsome dark eyes they were—were turned upon her caro sposo. “You wilHiot have any pulling to do, George,” she said, “so you had better go and change your clothes.” “Ob, I told them all to come as they liked,” gasped Mrs. Roley’s husband, who had quite enough of top hats and frock coats in the city, but a look from his wife changed his tone. “As you please, of course, my love; only I thought T should be more comfortable”—and he looked affectionately at his white flannels—“and less singular, you know.” “You will be more singular as you are, for xny friends will be dressed like gentlemen;” and the lady turned away to issue ner orders as to the stowage of the provisions, and when she looked around again Mr. Roley wa9 gone. To say that he was not a little inclined to rebel would be untrue; he was fond of comfort, and well be knew the difference between the comfort of flannels and the discomfort of a frock coat, with its accompaniments of starched shirt, stiff collar, and tie. So he went "lip stairs to his dressing-room, and stood by the window to watch for the first arrivals.

Had any bold spirit asserted itself, and appeared in like trim to his own, Mrs. Roley’s husband would have remained as he was; but no such good luck befell him. The first man who made his appearance was Mr. Edwin Dunstan, of the India Office, and he was faultlessly got up, even to his umbrella. Then, with an exclamation which did not sound very amiable, and which it would have been as much as his place was worth to let Mrs. Roley hear, the little man savagely tore off his clothes as though they had annoyed him. made a rent in the unoffending flannels, rumpled several shirt-fronts putting in his studs, broke off a few buttons, and abused the washerwoman, although she had nothing whatever to do with it; gave his little fox-terrier a kick because he got in his way, but in truth the small animal had only comejto sympathize with his master, seeing by the expression of his face that something had gone wrong with him. Mr. Roley was fond of his dog, but when people are out of temper they seldom stop to consider what they are going to do, nor question whether their acts are just or unjust. He was also of a saving disposition, yet he wasted neariva shilling in shirt-fronts without a thought as to the unwisdom of the action, whereas he would lose his temf>er and haggle with a cabman for half that amount, and take his number; for though a harmless being enough, Mrs. Roley’s husband was not an exalted character. He was a self-made man; his money had been earned with care, patience, and toil, and it was pain and grief to him to part with it, except for anything which added to his comfort. He had seen and admired a woman decidedly above him in position, and had proposed to her. She had wondered at his audacity, and for a moment felt inclined to box his ears; but in the next remembered his bouse in town, his pretty place on the Thames, and his reptued wealth, and she had reversed the picture, studying both attentively. A good name, a long list of ancestors, a widowed mother, and three marriageable sisters as beautiful as herself; a home with an outside show of affluence, but with sore pincl ing within, and a pile of unpaid bills; and how weary she was of cutting and contriving dresses for her mother, sisters, and herself. It was a marriage of convenience, of course, and she knew it must be so when she made up her mind to accept him. Onlookers said, "What could that handsome Miss de Lara sec in the man?” and she asked herself the same question a dozen times in the day. and answered it with n smile that, if somewhat cynical, she was not altogether discontented; aiid when Mr. Roley was not in her sight she told herself that she had not made an altogether bad speculation. Mrs. Roley did not share in her husband’s oveof saving, She spent his money royally, and he dared not nay her nay. There were times when he looked like a dog who fain would bite, but feared his master. Mrs. RoJey undoubtedly was his master, and it was, perhaps, all the better that it should be so; for it pre vented his faults from coming too trominently forward, and those who had not nown him previous to his marriage might live without the knowledge of the fact that he was still in heart “a screw.” lie was very proud of his wife, and liked to talk of her titled relations; and D detracted nothing from his pleasure that they bad neVer tried to assist Mrs. I)e Lara In her difficulties. J lie liked his pretty sister-in-law, nnd allowed the ! r still handsome mother to make much of him, which she always did when she wanted anything. Mrs. Roley was five and twenty at the time of her marriage, and her sisters were youngdr, the third then not being gut of the schoolroom. During flic*'' five years she had not been idle. She hod got l.er husband into society, i*)d she thoroughly enjoyed )iah*- wus not

troubled with a heart, nor with children, so she went where she liked and did what she pleased. Mrs. Roley had no lack of admirers, but they were chiefly of the cavaliere servante type, and people did not dream of talking any scandal about her, whatever they might think. She had obtained husbands for two of her sisters, and was now bringing out the third. Madd de Lara was the most enchanting little creature, but she was totally unlike her sister, and. therefore, that lady took leas interest in her than she had done in the other two girls, who were second and third editions of herself. These three were perfect De Laras, whereas Maud was like no one in particular, and took after her mother’s family, which was not so distinguished a one as the fathers. “You must not expect Maud to marry as the others have done,” Mrs. Roley had said decidedly to her mother; “she is not so good looking, and lias not the same style.” “Maudie is short, certainly, and is not so handsome as you are. of course, my dear; but she is a sweet-looking girl, I think,” returned the mother. “Oh, yes; she is pretty enough, but she most not be too particular,” and Beatrice Holey had dismissed the subject. When the nominal master of the house descended from rehabilitating himself, most of of his guests had arrived. One thing he had done, however, to punish his wife. He was aware that anything in bad taste gave her a mental toothache; and he knew, too, that her sense of good breeding would prevent her making any remurk before her visitors, however cross she might be. On the other hand, he had no taste, and a blending of bright colors was pleasant to his eyes. So when he appeared on the lawn among the merry assemblage, his wife simply shuddered as she beheld the “tie” he had selected; but in another moment she recovered herself and spoke to him. "Here you are at last, George. Now we had better start as soon as possible. I think every one is here. Why, where is Maud’ Go in and look for her, please; that sister of mine is always late.” Then, at a wave of her delicately-gloved hand, they all thronged on board the Swan, who carried her name visibly upon her bows without words, the fore part of the boat representing that, graceful bird, with feathers both carved and painted. When all the guests were seated, Mr. Roley and his sister-in-law came hurrying over the lawn. “Oh. dear, I am so sorry to be late, but I lost myself in a most delightful novel, and forgot it was time to dress!” And she turned a pair of laughing blue eyes upon them all. “Don’t look severe, Beatrice, dear; I will never do it again, if only you will forgive me this once,” she pleaded, plautinga tiny foot upon the side of the boat. "Now tell me where I am to sit, and I won't keep you a moment waiting.” "Wherever you can And room, Maud,” replied Mrs. Roley. "Now, George, are you ready?” Os course he had to be. whether be was or no; and in a few moments the Swan, with its white wings (in the shape of an awning) spread, was making its way against the stream of the river. Maud de Lara had found a seat, but it was not a very lively one, being between a somewhat stiff matron and an old maid who was not all sugar; but, as little Maud nevercould be stiff, she did her best to get conversation out of them, to the amusement of those oppolite, and more especially Mr. Edwin Dunstan, who thought her the prettiest, most winsome little fairy he ever saw in his life; and, seeing his intense gaze, and the interest he took in her sallies, a mutual understanding seemed to arise between these two, and the blue eyes sought the deep-set gray ones of the young man with shy consciousness, a delmate blush stealing over the pretty cheeks. It was 2 o’clock before the tow-horses had pulled their freight to the arranged spot, and the laughing party found themselves on the greensward. “Who ever saw such lovely fields!” cried Maud, joyfully, standing on an eminence and peering all around. "There is a field of golden hawk weed, and another of crimson trefoil and white chamomile; and the dear old buttercups are not out of bloom yet, and look so pretty mixed with the red sorrel. Oh. Ido enjoy this!” And the little woman clapped her hand with childlike pleasure. "Mrs. Roley,” said Edwin Dunstan, “I think you said that mignonne little beautv is your sister. May I ask you to kindly introduce me?” The other looked innocently around, letting her dark eyes follow those of the young man. “Yes. that is my sister Maud; don’t you know her? I thought you must have met at Ripplebank. Os course! will introduce you. Maudie, Mr. Dunstan desires to make your acquaintance, if you will come down from that tall mound.” “Oh, won’t he come up?” said the girl, naively. It is bo delightful here, and there is quite room for two at the top.” “Maud, when will you be conventional?” said her sister somewhat severely. But Edwin Dunstan had lost no time* in availing himself of her invitation, and was already by her side, and he answered thequestion to Maud instead of that voting lady replying to her sister, before he had replaced iiis hat "Never, I hope, Missde Lara, if I may be permitted to say so upon so short an acquaintance; you are charming as you are.” “Some people say they cannot bear compliments,” laughed Maud, “but I like them very much. One might as well say one dislikes bonbons, and lam very fond of both. Will you have some chocolate creams?” she udded. “I have u boxful in ray pocket.” “Perhaps we had better not eat any before our luncheon,” he replied, with a smile. "I think chocolate creams are very nice, but they don’t improve the appetite; and there is an edire to mine now, so I shall do justice to your sister’s good things,” “Beatrice is a capital one for getting up picnics,” continued Maud; “there is always plenty to eat, and the champagne is good.” “The latter is, I supf>ose, Mr. Roley’s department?” suggested Mr. Dunstan. “Not a bit of it; my sister manages everytning. Yon would not care to drink of George’s choosing, I can assure you. He does nothing; he only pays for it.” Edwin Dunstan laughed heartily. "Well, that is a considerable something, Miss de Lara, you must confess that' But we are in much too elevated a position to be pleasant?” “Not pleasant! Why, look at the country! Look at the lights and the shades under trees! See how the sun touches their trunks! Oh, is it not lovely?” “You are an artist, I suppose?” "1 can t draw, if you mean that, but I delight in all that is beautiful. I should like to learn to paint, hut I suppose J am too old now. Bornetimes I think 1 really have an artist’s he irt. I feel the pictures, and conceive such wonderful skies and sunsets, and am quite disheartened that I have not the power to portray what I mean.” “It is another case of the spirit being willing and the flesh weak, Miss de Lara; but I suppose I am prosaic, for I don’t admire these fields ns much ns you do.” “What, not those ox-daisies and scarlet poppies? And see, there is one of yellow* mustard; and the hedgerows are full of all sorts of delicious things, hiok, I con see star-wort and cat’s-eyos and ground ivy, and— What are they all looking at, Mr. Dunstan?” “At us. I believe. Shall we go and pick some of your favorite wild flowers?” "Oh. yes, that would be delighifull” Bo he handed her down from the mound, and they sauntered along the hedgerows. Maud gathering the wild flowers with the greatest enjoyment. “Oh. Mr. Dunstan, f have an ideal Let us decorate the feast with flowers and leaves. Here arc some lovely sprays of eglantine; how pretty they will be. twined round tho pie-dishes! Let us go ami nsk my sister about

THE INDIANAPOLIS •T'j.CJRNAL, SATURDAY, MAt 10, 1883.

it. We must not do It without consulting her, of course. The servants are already laying the cloth. I wonder if I may lielp them? Half the fun of a picuic is in helping; don’t you think so?” “I should certainly like to assist you in whatever you are going to do,” he answered kindly; and in a few minutes they were both at work spreading out the cold collation, and decking it with the flowers. When all was ready a bell was rung to call the guests together, and the meal began somewhat silently, for after the dispensing of good tilings there was a state of lull, every one eating with apparently as hearty an appetite as Mr. Dunstan had boasted of. Champagne corks began to pop and mirth to flow; bright eyes danced, and grave ones grew brighter; and any one listening to the babel of voices and the peals of laughter must have counted Mrs. Roley’s picnic a success. But the history of nations has ever shown that success cannot last, and when things are at their brightest they fade; and all unnoticed a dark cloud had been born in the horizon, and had risen and risen until it wa?now over the very heads of the pleasureseekers, all rain-laden, and the drops came pattering down in largo spots. It did not matter to Mrs. Roley that her superb costume would be spoiled; she looked down at the stains, and smiled, and people said what a sweet-tempered woman she must be. But there was not so much credit due to her after all; for she had already decided on ordering anew one on the morrow, having the excuse that this was quite ruined. Mr. Roley, however, was not quite so well satisfied, as any one might guess from the expression of his face; but whether his nund was perturbed with the thought of his wife’s dress-making bill, the utter ruiu of his own new hat, or the discomfort of a wetting, his guests could not fathom. Those who could afford to buy new garments, and were not delicate, laughed at the downpour, or, as they said, “made the best of it;” but Mrs. Roley was not one who only invited her rich neighbors to her parties, and some of her friends could ill afford to have their dresses and hats spoiled. Among these there was a great outcry for parasols and umbrellas; but of the latter article only one had been brought. Who could have thought of needing an umbrella on such a perfect day? Bo Mr. Dunstan, profiting by his Devonshire experience, alone was master of the situation. He was. for the time being, undoubtedly the most important person of his day in that little world, for he was “the man with the umbrella.” Dark eyes stared at him, gray eyes beseeclied him, hazel eyes implored him, but it was all in vain, for a little woman was sheltering under a hedge, with her dress turned ruthlessly over her head, regardless of appearance, and two blue eyes glanced shyly toward him in comical tribulation, and the question as to who was to share his umbrella was speedily solved. For a moment Mrs. Roley allowed a wave of annoyance to cross her usually placid face, but the next she smiled, and resolved upon something in her own mind. Unfortunately, the Swan had been sent forward to meet the party at another point, so there was nothing to be done hilt to walk on to the place of rendezvous, regardless of the wet grass, or to hire boats and follow it by water. The latter course was adopted by Mr. and Mrs. Roley, w’ho, seated in the stern of the river-tub, were soon well protected from the elements by rugs and wraps, which she accepted freely, now that the necessity for her new costume was decided upon. A few young couples who had waterproofs and thick boots (or said they had, for reasons of their own) preferred to walk; so that little Maud de Lara was not singular in electing to do the same. The pedestrian party, consisting of ten, started together, but, curious to relate, got separated before they had walked a quarter of a mile; which was somewhat unfortunate as neither Maud nor Mr. Dunstan knew the way to the place of meeting, nor were they at all posted up as to its locality. Each thought that of course the other knew all about it, whereas they had both been under the hedge-row gathering flowers when the Swan had been sent away and arrangements made for meeting her again. But two happy young folks, walking close together under aii umbrella, were not very likely” to think of the difficulties until they actually arose, and the umbrella had to be held low to keep off the rain and the wind; so they did not even notice that their companions were out of sight and that they were totally alone. So when they came to a stile, over which Mr. Dunstan had to help his companion, he suddenly exclaimed, “By Jove!” and began to look about him somewhat anxiously. “Why, where are the others?” said Maud. “Are they in front or behind?” “I have not an idea. I have never thought of them since we started.” “Perhaps they are hiding,” suggested she. But there seemed to be nowhere for them to hide; the field in which they found themselves was large, and bare of trees even, with a trim hedge all around it. “We must have walked either very fist or very slow,” he remarked, dubiously—“l don’t know which. I wa< thinking of omething else. Miss de Lam, your feet must be wet through; you said your shoes were thick, and they are nothing but brown pa per.” “CV they are not very wet, thank you!’’ replied xMaud, raising her sweet eyes to his. "You will catch your deaih of cold, and it will be my fault,” he continued, regretfully. “Don’t think about that, please. Ido not get cold easily at all. But I wish I knew where the others are. 1 don’t think Beatrice would approve of my having left them; but, indeed, I didn’t notice that they were gone.” "It is no fault ot yours, whoever else may be to blame,” he said, firmly, “but I will try and find them. There, sit on this stile against the hedge and hold the umbrella well over you. I won’t be gone long. It was evident that she had confidence in him, for she asked no quest’ons, but simply obeyed him; and, regardless of the rain, he ran swiftly round the four sides of the field, looking over the hedges and calling aloud; but all in vain, lie merely returned to the patient waiter at the stile, decidedly wetter; but that was the only result of his endeavors. “1 am afraid we are left all alone, like the Babes in the Wood,” he said, with a smile, as he rejoined her. “I am sorry, since you think Mrs, Roley will be vexed with you; but we could not possibly have helped It.” “1 suppose we could if we had tried,” she replied, shaking her golden head half archly, half regretfully; “but it can’t be cured now. and we must make the best of our way to the boat.” "Yes, of course we must,” he returned cheerfully. “I wish we could find some one to direct us; I don’t know this purt of the world at all. Where are we to meet the shallop?” “What, don’t vou know?” questioned Miss de Lara, an alarmed look coming into the blue eyes. “I must confess I don’t. I supposed you would be sure to know, and the others; or , perhaps I never thought about it at all.” “Oli, dear, this is unfortunate! What are we to do? 1 was not there when the arrangements were made. What can we do?” “If you are not too tired, I think we hud better walk on; we must try uml strike down to the river.” So they tried; but they did not apparently succeed, for no river caino within view, anil poor Maud, who wns never a very good walker, began to stumble over the long grass from fatigue. Then Mr. Dunstan insisted upon hertaking hisurm, and they grew more cheerful under this close contact; the girl feeling that, awkward as was tlieir position, she had still a strong arm to protect her, At length they came to a cottage, and went at once to the door, and were told that they had come quite away from the river, which was now about a mile and a half distant; then, neein.,' their plight, the good-natured country-

woman invited them in, and, noticing how tired and pale poor Maud looked, she made her some tea and insisted on taking off her shoes, and doing her best to dry them by her fire. Mr. Dunstan inquired whether any conveyance could be found to take them to the riverside, but there was none to be had within a getatable distance. Refreshed with that beverage which cheers but does not inebriate, Maud started off once more with her companion, leaving a glad heart behind in the humble cottage; for Edwin Dunstan was a generous fellow, and seeing evidence of the pinch of poverty around, had left a golden piece in the woman’s palm. When they reached the river they could for a time gain no information respecting tlie Swan, aud they walked along the water-side, hoping that tho boat would Roon overtake them; and the girl grew so tired that Edwin Dunstan persuaded her to rest under a tree, with a fallen lunb fora seat. But no shallop arrived, and the pretty face became anxious and worried. By and by a barge came up against the stream. Mr. Dunstan hailed it, and found that the Swan was a long way down the river—the barge had especially noticed her: and, upon further inquiry, he was still more annoyed to learn that they were not more than half a mile from the-point from which they had started, so it was evident that they had doubled, like hares; and the only thing left for them to do was to return to the creek where they had landed and hire a boat to convey them to Radleigh, a distance of ten miles. Tears rose in the girl’s eyes wdien she heard of the dilemma she was in, and her companion strove to reassure her. "Don’t fret, Missde Lara; who knows but what we may overtake them? They are sure to wait a reasonable time for us, and will make inquiries at all the locks.” They hud some difficulty in persuading any of the boatmen to take them so great a distance, but money docs most things, and it overcame the unwillingness of the men to start for so long a pull, when evening was fast closing in, on such a dismal night. They did their best to be cheerful, even trying snatches of songs, their young voices blending together and going out over the water softly and melodiously; so that passersby on land stopped to listen, and more than once faces peered from windows of bouses upon the banka, attracted by the music under that umbrella. But the singing proved a failure as the shades of evening drew on, and the shivering gill crept closer to Edwin Dunstan for warmth and shelter. There was no one there to see them; even the boatman was shut out by that paragon frame covered with thick brown silk. There was no one to hear, for the boatman was decidedly deaf. Had these two met under ordinary circumstances, they would of course have been ordinary acquaintances upon this the first day of their meeting; but the circumstances were not at all ordinary, and Edwin really felt obliged to put his arm about the little shrinking form, to protect it ali he couidfor at any rate it pleased him to think so) from the stormy night-wind; for the rain had not ceased for a moment, and it seemed qnite natural to clasp the small, cold hands which she trusted in his with such child-like ixmfidence; and when a few tears rolled slowly down the pale face, there is not much wonder that he kissed them away under that protecting umbrella, nor that he strove to comfort her in his own fashion. "I said you were not to be conventional, little Maud,” he whispered softly; "rest your head upon my shoulder, that will be a pillow for you.” “But ought. I? Do you think I might? What would Beatrice sayf’ He was nearly as possible saying. “Bother Beatrice!” but, instead, lie replied: “lam sure you ought ard must. Little one, cannot you trust yourself to me?” And she had crept quite close, like a tired child, glad to rest; and so he had held her tenderly, his heart going out to her with a groat love. Tlin bo orer her and spoke again: "Only fancy! wo met to-day for the first time, and yet it seems as though Iliad known you all my life. Perhaps 1 have seen you in my dreams; but, sweet Maud, I cannot part from >ou aa'ain. You asked me juet now what Mrs. Roley would say; that I do not know, but whatever it may be, you will give me the right to stand by you. Maud, will you be my wife?” And he stopped r.nd kissed her rosy lips nnchidden, once, twice, thrice; and again there was silence, delicious silence which, like a man, he broke. "You do not answer roe, ray little love. Are you happy—are you content?” “More than happy—more than content. My heart is too full for words.” “My little queen,” be whispered, “how fortunate it was that I brought my umbrella! otherwise I might never have gained you for my wife. I wonder if any other man ever won so charming a bride thus strangely?” And the oars went on with their monotonous turns in the rowlocks, ami dark new set in, while those two, Bheltered under the umbrella, heeded nothing but their own joy. When they reached Ripplebank. there wa-f a great commotion. Mrs. Holey had waited for the lost coople for half an hour at the place appointed; then she had inquired of some people coming up stream, and had learned that they had seen a gentleman and a lady enter a small boat and pull down the river; and, upon further inquiries, had gathered that tho gentleman had an umbrella, which he gave to the lady before taking the oars himself; and the umbrella was conclusive evidence that the couple could be no other than Mis* de Lara and Mr. Dunstan. The other four couples, who had been deeply engrossed in their own affairs, and knew as little about the manner they had missed them as Dunstan and Maud, asserted that they were sure they had walked on ahead of them, and that no dcubt they had hired this boat just for a piece of fun, and that most likely they should pick them up a mile or two down the river. But no boat did they overtake at all answering to the description given them, for the very simple reason that the gentleman and lady whose possession of an umbrella had led them astray had gone home to their cottage by the riverside, and the umbrella was peacefully draining in the stand in the hall, while the two were partaking of their evening meal behind closed blinds. To say that Airs. Roley was not angry with her little sister would ne doing that lady more than justice; but there was a glad light in the girl’s eyes and a smile about her mouth that no anger could quench; and when Edwin Dunstan pressed the little hand in saying, “Good night,” he whispered the one word, “To-morrow,” and followed Mrs. Roley r out of the room. What passed between these two was not repeated by either; but the interview could not have been a very unsatisfactory one, for when Edwin Dunstan went away in October to bis father’s fine old place in the shires, to have his share of pheasant shooting, he took a fair young bride with him, who answered to the name of “Maud,” hut was equally well known hs “Sprite,” “Klfie,” “Little Midge,” and a dozen other diminutive appellations, and the wedding hud.taken place from Ripplebank. Fool* and Aetr*wtm. Boctou Pont Letter. When those New Yorkers go wild with delight over an actor or actress they act like crazy people. Lately a burlesque actress lias nightly been kicking her slipper into the audience, and one night the gentleman who caught it took It to his club, ami the members drank wipe out of it. I told this story to another lady in the same branch of the business, who has no love for the owner of the slipper, “Each drunk a slipterful tober health?” she nuked. “Yes.” “Well,” she re marked, "they must all have got pretty drur.k.”

HIGHER EDUCATION. A Couple of Hrooklytt Girl* Try to Get Onto It. Brooklyn E*g!©. “My dear girl,” said one young lady to another on Fulton street, "will you go with me so-night and hear I’rofessor Stone lecture?” “Who is he? and what will he lecture about?” “Oh, lie’s lovely, a Boston man. and is going to lecture on the ‘Higher Education of Women.’ Ma says it will be very instructive, and pa says its only lor a lot of old • shriekers, and when pa and ma talk like that I know its something worth hearing.” "Is it about that awful Tewksbury?” “Oh, ray, no; its about Columbia College, and ma says—- " How nice,” interrupted the other. "Wonder if lie’ll sing any class songs. Cousin Ned ! is a Columbia boy, and last vacation he sang more funny songs. Did you ever hear this; " T wish I were a hip-po-pot-a-mus; I would swim the broad Euphrates and eat grass. ’ “It’s too cute for anything; and then there was one beginning—” * “No, no, dear,” said the intellectual young lady: “ ’tis about admittingyoung ladies into this college. Ma says—” “Why, goodness me, Mamie, Cousin Ned told me all about the entertainments, and how they danced and flirted; all this at the college, and this Mr. Stone pretends that no women have ever been admitted.” “But, Nellie dear, he means the admitting of women into the college as students.” “Oh, that! well, thank my stars! I’ve graduated, and don’t want to ever hear of books again. It makes my head ache nowcram, cram, cram; but my dress was lovely. Did I ever show you our badge? It’s too sweet—black enamel crescent and a gold star ; below.”

“Ma says that we women should vote, and only by higher education can women gain strength to throw off the yoke.” “What yoke?” queried Nellie, innocently. “Oh! I don’t know; they are always having it out over some question, and pa says if ma had her way men would be home tying knots in twine (macrems, you know), then ma says that would be as lofty as guzzling beer till midnight, and then pa turns up his nose and ma cries, and I don’t hear any more about Morgan Dix or higher education that night.” “Speaking of yokes, Mamie, reminds me of that lovely Mother Hubbard gown. Tiie yoke was Irish point, and trimmed—” “Oh, Nellie, please don’t mention dresses now. Ma says that we are on the eve of a mighty upheaval; that we are to demand redress—” “Oh, Mamie, you giddy thing, telling me not to talk about dress, and here you go—and that makes me think. I’m going to dye that old cashmere terracotta, and make it with a long polonaise—” “And if we go to-night we’ll hear about O’Donovan Rossa. He’s another hero, as ma calls all these women’s rights men.” “Is he from Boston too?” “Oh, no. He’s the man that brought over the Bartholdi statue and Cleopatra’s needle.” “Where on earth did you pick up so much information, Mamie?” said Nellie, bending an admiring glance on her friend’s new hat. “Well, one can’t help listening,” said MaMiie. with a superior smile, "and ma is always talking and pa can hold his own, sol get the benefit of all their conversations. 1 set all the religious and higher education from ma, and politics and dynamite talk from pa.” "But you used to be always talking about art and culture and tone; now—” “Oh, that’s old. Ma says that was first a passing fancy, but this higher education is the thing now. Will you go to-night?” “Would love to, but am going to the opera with Cousin Ned. Good-bye, dear; tell your ma I’m coming to see her soon,” and the young ladies separated, each impressed with the idea that she had spent a very profitable half-hour.

SENDING THE NEWS TO KATE The Metropolitan Idea of Getting; Even with the Monopolies* New York World. Yesterday evening a man, a little top heavy, rushed into a Sixth-avenue telegraph office, seized a telegraph blank and a stub pen with a ball of dried ink on the end, and by propping himself against the counter monaged to write the following message: Kate, I won’t be borne till inornlug. Harry. “What’ll that cost?” said the man, handing the message through the port-hole to the manipulator of electricity. "Let me see. Seven words—fifteen cents.” “Fifteen, eh? How much for ten words?” “The same price; anything not exceeding ten will cost you fifteen cents to any address in the city,” answered the operator, making a spring to muzzle an instrument that was sputtering as if it hud delirium tremens. “I’m bound to have the worth of my money out of vour corporations, then,” said the man, bracing himself against the counter as he traced on a blank this clear message: • T ncom pre hetisi bi ii tv. man u sac t u rent, transcendentalism, Constantinople, concavoconvex, Massachusetts, assassination, Pennsylvania, imperturbability, philoprogenitiveness.” "There, string that on your wire and send her at a 2:40 gait,” said the man with a look of vengeance in his eye. The operator counted the words, but volunteered the information that there was no sense in the message, ami that the dictionary must have been ransacked for the longest words. “I know there’s no sense in it, but Kate ’ll understand it all the same: she’ll know I’m on a drunk anyway when I send a message at this hour, whether it’s sense or not. I make ’em long on purpose to break the back of your darm*d machine. Shovel ’em in and start the crank. I’m in for a good time. Never mind the expense, here’s your fifteen cents.” And the man ran out and hailed a passing cab. Herlin’g Huge New Prison. London Daily New*. The largest prison in Europe ia the house of detention, which has just been completed at Berlin. This enormous edifice comprises six serrate buildings, to which have been transferred all the prisoners awaiting trial who have hitherto been confined in the vaI rious prisons of Berlin. The prison for men j consists of a ground floor and four other stories, with 732 separate cells, dormitories for 193 prisoners, beside forty rooms for turnkeys and sleeping accommodation for 118 attendants. Each of the 732 cells has a window ten feet high. There are six cells in the basement for prisoners who are refractory to discipline, and in the basement are also tube found the kitchens, the bath-rooms and tho ; heating apparatus of the prison. The interj nal part of the prison is constructed of iron, , and is so built that all the corridors lookout i upon a central hall which commands a view |of every cell. The prison for men, which is j is separated from the rest of the building by a wall sixteen feet high, also contains a chapel and four large exercise grouuds. The prison for women contains only seventy cells and Ififtcen large dormitories, the latter of which are divided into sections, each containing a bed, which can be locked up every night after its occupant has retired to rest. An Example of Ecouoiny. Brooklyn Eagle. Bedsteads more or less disguised as wardrobes, secretaries and sideboards ure common. It is only the other day that l stumbled upon an elaborately dressed mantelpiece in the room of an ce>thetic friend up town which developed, under his skillful manipulations, into a full-blown four-legged doublo bedstead, made up and ready to tumble into. The entire fireplace had been made over so as to admit a bed. At first sight it looked

like a beautiful cabinet with an ornamental ! firescreen in the middle. There were shelves | and alcoves on both sides of the highly-pol-J ished wood, while the upper structure was I provided with tiny receptacles for bric-a- ---! brae and china. It terminated in a sort of j arched dome. “This,” said my friend, “is the triumph of art over space. When this is locked up nobody suspects that it is a bed. and as there is a portiere hung over my closet door, I can invite the most prudent of my lady friends up to ray room without danger of shocking their feelings. They glance around, and their eagle eyes are unable to detect any signs of a bedstead in mv room, and so they settle down to the belief that I have a suite of rooms and gaze on the portiere that leads into my closet with awe and wonder. It is a great scheme, for it saves me the $8 a week I would have to pay for an extra room.” “How often does a lady come to see yon?” "Oh. two or three times a year.” “Do they evercomeup to vour room?” “Well, as a rule, they stop down in the parlor, but then I have the satisfaction of knowing if the should come up to my room, they could do so with perfect propriety.” "How much does the whole affair cost "’ “Two hundred dollars.” THE PROPER USE OU WIVES. A Correspondent Says that Their Real Lae Is Not Appreciated. Exchange. It is not to sweep the house and make the beds and darn the socks and cook the meals chiefly that a man wants a wife. If this is all he wants, hired servants can do it cheaper than a wife. If this is all, when a young man calls to see a young lady, send liiru into the pantry to taste the bread and cakes she has made; send him to see tlie needlework and bed-making; or put a broom in her hands and send him to witness its use. Such things are important, and the wise young man will quietly look after them. But what a true man most wants of a wife is her companionship, sympathy and love. The way of life has many dreary places in it, and man needs a companion with him. A man is sometimes overtaken bv misfortune; he meets with failure and defeat; trials and temptations beset him, and he needs one to stand by and sympathize. He has some stern battles to fight with poverty, with enemies and with sin, and he needs a woman that, as he puts an arm around her, feels that he has something to fight for, will lielp him fight; who will put her lips to his ear and whisper words of counsel, and her hand to his heart and impart new inspiration. All through life—through storm and sunshine, conflict and victory; through adverse and favorable winds —man needs a woman’s love. The heart yearns for it. A sister's aud mother’s love will hardly supply the need. Yet many seek nothing further than housework. Justly enough, half these get nothing more. The other half, surprised above measure, obtain more than they sought. Their wives surprise them by giving a nobler idea of marriage, and disclosing a treasury of courage, sympathy and love. Hal Thrown Out Hints. Savannah Re- or<l. A subscriber sends up the following, which he alleges occurred recently on the line of the Central railroad. We will not vouch for the truthfulness of its location or the correctness of the incident, but it is so much akin to human nature that we publish it: “When a Georgia father found out that his son .John was sparking a certain farmer's daughter for a year or more without settling any ques tion, he called him out behind the stack and said to him: “John, do you love Susan Tinker.’” “I guess 1 do, dad.” “And does she love you?” “That’s what I dunno, and I’m fraid to ask her.” “Well, you’d better throw out a few hints to-night and find out. It’s no use wearing out boot-leather unless you ure going to marry her.” Tlmt night at 10 o’clock John came home a wreck. His face was all scratched up, his ear was bleeding, his hat gone, and his back was covered with mud. “John! John! What on earth is the matter?” exclaimed the old man. laving down his paper. “Bin over to Tinker’s,” was the reply. “And—and—” “And I threw out a few hints to Susan.” “What kind o’ hints?” “Why, I told her I’d been hoofing it two miles four nights out of the week for the last year to sot up with her while she chawed gum and sung through her nose, and now I reckoned it was time for her to brush her teeth and darn up her stockings, cure the bile on her chin, and tell the oid folks that we’re engaged.” “And her father bounced you?” “No, dad, no; that's where I’m consoled. It took the whole gasted family, including Susan, two hired men and three dogs, and then I wasn’t more’n half licked. I guess we moved on ’em too soon, dad—l guess it wasn’t quite time to throw out hints.” l)<*Jin Gaisford’s Reasoning. Temple Bar. "I have my doubts about the Thirty-nine Articles, sir,” said a too-conscientious Christ Church man to him on the eve of taking his degree. The Dean looked at the troubled one in a hard, sardonic way. "How much do you weigh, sir?” “About ten stone, I should think, sir,” was the astonished answer. “And how tall are you to half an inch?” I really don’t know to half an inch.” “And how old are you to un hour?” The dubious one was speechless. "Well, you are in doubtabouteverything that relates toyourself,” cried the Dean, triumphantly, “and yet you walk about saying: ‘I am twenty years old, I weigh ten stone, and am five feet eight inches high.’ Go, sign the articles; it will he a long time before you find anything that sugents no doubts.” Dean Gaisford used to throw all the letters that came to him by post into a basket and open the lot once a month, just as Prince Talleyrand is said to have done. In this way he said he had to write fewer answers, as most of the business to which the letters referred would settle itself without his interference. Strategy. Madrid Tarter. A handsome sonorita went to one of the | best photographers in Madrid, lately, to have her picture taken. When the posture was all settled and the cloth was about to be drawn, the artist threw a last glance at his subject, ami to his consternation found that, she was holding a pistol to her head. “What I are you doing?” lie cried. “You will not shoot yourself; it would ruin my business; ! besides, it would be wicked to mar so lovely ! a face.” "Do not be afraid,” site replied, “I j have no thought of spoiling the original of one of your best pictures; but iny Jove has left me, and I’m going to send him my photograph in this posture, with the message that I’ll fire if he does not return to me.” A few weeks after the photographer had tho pleasure of taking tho portraits of a young married pair—without the pistol. Mild Case of Lunacy Texas Slftlna. Moses Schaumburg had loaned Sam Bing tom S7OO. Ah Mose had not scon Sam on the streets of Autin for scvc*ral days it occurred to him to call at Sam's house and find out how he was coming on. He did not see Sam, but Mrs. Bingtom was at home. She looked very sad and had black rings around her eyes. “I am in great distress Mr. Schaumburg.” “Vat vash de matter?” “Mr. Bingtom has lost Ills mind and bus been taken out. into the country.” “Did he leave dot money mit you to pay dot note what comes due next week?” “On, no, Mr. Schaumburg, he is not crazy enough todo that. He has not lost his reus oning faculties entirely.”

11