Indianapolis Journal, Indianapolis, Marion County, 9 August 1884 — Page 11

The Birth of the Daisy. A fairy on a bright sunbeam Onee, when the world was new, comedown, A fhiry in a silver dihss, And on her head a golden crown. Amt wheresoe'er her footsteps fell Possessed of wondrous magic powers. Bright as the eyes of summer days They woke to life the daisy flowers. Sweet flowers! Gifted with content, Willing to blossom anywhere, Wooed by the wind, kissed by the sun, They never need the gardener's cere. They make in far, forsaken fields A gladness, all the air that fills. They run along the lonely lanes, They climb and crown the grassy hills. In every land the country folk Have dearly loved the simple things, And aye to meet a daisy bloom The child's exultant laughter rings. As some sad mourner through his tears Has seen, amid a gloomy glen, A daisy, like a blessing bright, He gathered it and smiled again.' While Fashion's fickle favor now Has throned it with the rose to reign. It smiles its smile of old content, Counting it neither loss nor gain. Its petals hold the silver hue Os that pale dress its fairy wore; Its heart retains the glory glow Os that gold crown it saw of yore. —Louise T. Boyd. Dublin, Ind., 1884. My Friend S. W. L., DIED JttoY 11. Through hours of long companionship We learned each other’s hearts to know, And felt the bond that made us friends Strong and enduring grow. I walked with you in storied lands. O’er hallowed ground and ancient street— The places that you sought, e’en then. With tired and faltering feet. I stood beside you as you paused Within the dim cathedral’s gloom, Where pealed the organ's swelling psalm O'er many a sculptured tomb, Or where what the immortals dreamed Hung in the dusk above a shrine, Faces of Mary, fair as youth. And of the Child divine. From your wide windows we have watched The grass to deepening greenness grow, TV blaze and quench of autumn fires, The fall of winter snow. But this shall be no more on earth, The tale is told, the arrow sped; No voice speaks through the dark that hides Those whom we mourn as dead. Bet what was mine shall still be mine; Though other friendships may grow cold. This shall the past keep for me still When I am sad and old.

And we shall meet again, dear friend, Where you have found the new life sweet. So perfect that it lacks no joy To make its bliss complete. —Mary H. Krout. CWTOSDSvn.LE, Ind., Aug. 5. midsummer. If I should wake from drowsiness, And see the leaves hang motionless; Above my face the dreamy skies, While dragon-dies with sapphire eyes • Dart up and down in gaudy sheen, Then light on flaunting cat-tails green; Behold the poppy's withered stalk, A pigeon fleeing from a hawk, The white reflections of a sail, A hat hung loosely o’er the rail; I say if I should waken thus, And hear the bees sing in chorus Between the thrush's roundelays, Whose trills sound drowsy on such days; And note the insects’ lazy grace, And feel them circling round my face, And catch the splash of turtles’ play In qule’t brooks net far away; And should I raise my head and lean My elbow on this patch of green, And watch for clouds till they appear, Td know that August days were here, £ The Wine that Conquers Care. The following poem, says the San Francisco Argofnaat, is by General William Haines Lytle, author of “I Am Dying, Egypt, Dying," and other well-known •poems. The author was a Union officer, who fell in battle in 1863. These lines have never appeared in •print before, the original manuscript being in possession of a lady who resides on this coast.] Nay, frown not, fairest! Chide no more Nor blame the blushing wine; Its fiery lips are innocent When thrills the pulse with thine. Go, leave the goblet in ray hand, But veil thy glances bright, Lest wine and beauty, mingling here, Should wreck my soul to-night Then, dearest to the ancient rim, In sculptured beauty rare, Bow down thy red, arched Bp, and quaff The wine that conquers care; And breathe upon the glowing cup. Till thus its perfume be Sweet as the scent of orange groves Upon some tropic sea. Then while thy fingers idly stray In dalliance o’er the lyre, Bing to me, love, some rare old song That gushed from heart of tire— Song such as Grecian phalanx hymned When freedom's field was won. And Persia’s glory, with the light Faded at Marathon. Sing till the shouts of armed men Bing bravely out once more! Sing till again the ghest-white tents Shine on'the moonlit shore! Bid from their melancholy graves The buried hopes to start I knew ere many a storm had swept The dew-drops from my heart. • • Sing the deep memories of the past! My soul shall follow thee— Its boundless depths are echoing Thy glorious, minstrelsy; , And as the sweet vibrations hang, Enfettered on the air, FH drink, thy white arms round me, love, The wine that conquers care. • Mere and There. We sit beside the lower feast to-day— She at the higher. •Our voices falter as we bend to pray; In the great choir Os happy saints she sings, and does not tire. *We break the bread of patience, and the wine Os tears we share; IBbe tastes the vintage of that glorious vino Whose branches fair IBet for the healing of all nations are. R wonder is she sorry for our pain, Or u, grown wise, She, wondering, smiles, and counts them idle, vatu, These heavy slgs. These longings for her face and happy eyes. Smile on then, darttngt As God wills is beet. We lose our hold. Content to leave thee to thedeoper rest, The safer f >ld, To joy’s immortal youth while we grow old. Content the cold and wintry day to bear The icy wave, And know thee in immortal summer there, Beyond the grave; Content to give thee to the Love that gave. —Susan Coolidge. . Da Patch's Special Flavoring Extracts are made front the fruit, and have their grateful, agreeable taste, without the turpentine odor which is observed in those extracts usually soM, made from poisonous oils, acids, and taste sharpened by cayenne pepper. W* advise those who wish Choice, pure flavors, to buy Dr. Price’s.

THE YANDSRSTBM’S CAMPiIGN. London Society. The Misses Vandersteen were going to Europe, not in a vain spirit of sightseeing, such as might befit any commonplace American whose finances permited him to visit the Old World, but with a distinct intention of invading and conquering English society, possibly of settling on English soil; but this formed no essential part of their plans. “I don’t know that it’s worth while actually to marry any of them," said Mrs. Oppenheim. Mrs. Oppenhcim was the guide, philosopher and friend of the young ladies, having herself passed two most successful seasons in London, and, she declared, having aroused hopeless love in the breasts of innumerable Englishmen and intense jealousy in those of English ladies. “Englishmen don't make such kind, obedient husbands as Americans," said this experienced lady; ‘ ‘they are tyrannical and dreadfully stupid; : but it always enhances a girl’s value with men on this side to have it known that she has refused a few Englishmen. At least I should not advise you to accept anything less than the heir to an earldom, and then only if he is young and handsome. But the great point is that you’ll be presented at court, which at onee gives you a right to the best society here—it's a sort of certificate of merit; and Lady Barbara knows her work, and won’t take yon to any but the best houses, so lam sure you will have a lovely time. Oh, : one last caution! Don’t get too intimate with any of the people on board snip, unless you are quite, quite sure they are the sort you will want to keep up with afterward. I was terribly plagued by a woman who went over with me. I had been civil to her when we were crossing, and the result was that in London she was always bothering me. After she read in the newspapers that I had been at the drawing-room she persecuted me to present her, till I was forced to insult her in self-defense.” Manv more advices and warnings did Mrs. ©ppenheim givq her young friends, till both Valeria and Ermyntrude felt that if their career in England was not successful the failure would be due to their own blundering, and who was less likely to blunder than these stately and selfpossessed damsels! Very high of heart were they when they stepped on board the Cunarder that was to convey them to the scene of triumph; and when they sat down to partake of their first meal with their fellow-passengers, very careful were they not to risk a too intimate acquaintance with any of them. There was only one, they decided, after privately discussing their companions, that looked at afi worth cultivating —a fair-haired, handsome young Englishman—but he had been conversing with the people near him with ao much animation that they felt sure he could not be any one of importance. “I shouldn't think he was anybody,” said Valoria, reflectively, “though be does look so aristocratic; but then you can never guess at an Englishman’s position by his being eivil all round. They never seem to think it necessary, even the highest of them, to keep their inferiors at a distance." “That’s because they are sure that the distance is so immeasureable that no one will attempt to traverse it," returned Ermyntrude, a little bitterly, remembering one or two occasions when her social inferiors had not seemed so conscious that she stood far above them as might be desired. “I wonder what his name is?" she added. “I heard someone call him Mr. Ellis.” “Ellis! You can’t learn mueh from that. I Hlje a name like Cholmondeley or Grosvenor, that you don't often find outside the then you know where you are, but Ellis might belong to any one.” “Let us look up the ‘Peerage,’" suggested the younger Sister. They searched that interesting manual, without which no American woman's library is complete, and found that Elhs was the family name of the Earl of Sussex “What does it say about him!" “He is an old man himself, born 1802. His eldest son. ‘Lord Eastbourne, born 182% married, 1853, Lady Louisa Frederica Ie Marchant, only daughter of the Marquis of Foxland, and has issue: Hugh Roderick Herbert le Marchant Ellis, bom 1855.’ " • With one accord the sisters ceased reading and exclaimed: “Can it be he?” They made an effort to discover if their fellowpassenger was indeed that scion of the noble house of Sussex Leaving their stateroom, wherh the absorbing study of the “Peerage” had been carried on, they went on deck, where they found Mr. Ellis discussing Christian names with some other gentlemen. “One’s godfathers and godmothers occasionally make blunders in the names they give one, but society always seta the matter right,” he was saying. “I know a man who was christened Launcelot, but whom everybody calls Dolly, for bo other reason than that it seems to suit him better. I myself am afflicted with a string of names long enough to serve a whole family if economically used, put they are all eoutraeted into Dick.” The Misses Vandersteen heard only the latter part of this speech, and a ray of disappointment shot from the eyes of each. This was not the Honorable Hugh Roderick Herbert le Marchant, hut some commonplace, uninteresting, middleclass Diek! They walked round the deck, and as they again passed the gentlemen they heard the obnoxious, because plebeian, Ellis say, in answer to some question, “No, I did not spend much time in the cities. I wanted to make some sketches, and, with the exception of some of the older parts of New York, I found nothing of interest in the northern towns. I spent meet of my time on the Hudson till winter came on, and then I went South. Now, New Orleans is a place” The Misses Vandersteen listened to no more, but crept away to their cabin to hide their disappointment. “To think of his being only an artist!” sighed Valeria “But some artists are in society,” sighed Ermyntrude, who had been more deeply struck by the stranger’s good looks than her sister. “Not while they are so young as he is,” replied Miss Vandersteen seotentiously. Next day was rather stormy and many ladies were sick, among them the Misses Vandersteen. Their maid also was ill and unable to attend to them, and the stewardess had too many invalids to look after to give as much attention to the Misses Vandersteen as these young ladies required. Indeed, they would have fared badly but for the kindness of a young girl named Alice Barclay, who was going to Europe for the first time with her parents. When they were able only to lie on a sofa in the ladies' eaten she was ready to fan them, read to them, get them ehampagne or ieed water, as their capricious faney dictated; in short, to make herself essential to their comfort. While they were ill and weak they accepted her attention gratefully, though with a sense of the injustice of a fate which ordained that an Alice Barclay, a little brown-haired girl of no particular eonsequenee, should be well and enjoying the voyage, while the majestic Valeria and the sinuously elefant Ermyntrude Vandersteen lay prone and elpless. As, however, the sisters began to recover, Mrs. Gppenheim’g warning recurred to their minds. What if Miss Barclay’s kindness were only a trick whereby, like the old man of the sea, she might climb upon their shoulders and thus gain admission to the sacredly select, social circles wherein they meant to shine! “One can’t be too careful,” saw the sisters Vandersteen, and they amiably resolved to snub Miss Barclay as soon as they were well enough to dispense with her services. At last Ermyntrude was able to crawl on deck. Alice Barclay, who was sitting in a deck-chair listening with, deep interest to a lively description of a day’s hunt from Dick Ellis’s Ups, saw her as she came up, and was at her side in an instant. “I am so glad to see you on deck,” she exclaimed. “Gome and take my chair; it is nicely sheltered from the wind, and Mr. Ellis is telling me about England, and it Is so interesting.” “Thanks.” said Ermyntrude stiffly; "I don't think Mr. Ellis could give me any information about England that would be of use to me, and I have a chair of my own somewhere.” Ellis found her chair, placed it in a comfortable corner, and wrapped her rugs round her, but did not suggest that she shoulu come near Alice. She barely thanked hunt and he returned to his companion. “Can yon wonder, Miss Barclay,” he said, alluding to a conversation they had the previous' day—“can yon wonder at my countrymen having snch a false impression of yours when a woman like that comes to England and calls herself an American lady?" “Iknow she is horrid,” Alice replied, with

THE INDIANAPOLIS JOURNAL* SATURDAY, AUGUST 9, 1884.

something like tears in her eyes; “but you know we aren’t all like that.” “Yes, fortunately, I do; I know yon. Formerly my ideal woman was rather hazy and undefined, but now I know exactly what she is like. She is not very tall, but graceful as a fairy; she has brown hair and eyes; she is always bright and cheerful, and she is kind to every one, even to those who don’t deserve it. She is an American, and her name is” “Oh, Mr. Ellis, there is Valeria Vandersteen; do go and get her a chair,” interrupted Aliee, speaking ealmnly enough, and looking him in the face with a glance that seemed to defy him to say she was blushing. “Thanks,” said Dick, “I am only a barbarous Englishman, and a little insolence from a woman goes a long ways with me. I have had. quite as much as I want ” “O, but I wish you would help her!” "That alters the case.” And Dick obediently went and arranged everything for Valeria’s comfort, thereby deepening the impression in the Vandersteen mind that he wished to attain the honor of their intimacy. Presently a pause in their conversation enabled Aliee and Dick to hear a dialogue between the sisters which was evidently leveled at them. “The worst of there being no titles with us,” said Valeria, “is that Englishmen who would never aspire to good society in their own country think they have a right to mix with the best families in America.” ‘‘Yes, but they don’t keep it up long, "answered her sister; “they find their own level pretty soon and keep to the families of drygoods men and the like.” Alice Barclay started from her seat, “Please take me for a walk up the deck, Mr. EUis,” she said, “I can’t endure this.” When they were out of hearing she exclaimed vindictively. “I should like to throw them overboard!” “Don’t!” cried Dick, laughing. “I don’t mind taking any wager you ljke that before three months are over they will wish they had drowned themselves before they spoke rudely of either you or me." During the remainder of the voyage the Misses Vandersteen treated Alice with a eondescending stiffness which, we are sorry to say, made her regret she had ever spoken to them, but Diek Ellis they carefully ignored, save once. He was in the saloon, putting up In a ■portfolio some sketches which he had just been showing to Miss Barclay when Valeria Vandersteen entered. She herself had some talent ’for painting and no little love for it, and she could not resist the pleasure of looking at these drawings. “Did you do them, Mr. Ellis? O, do let me see them!” she cried. He showed her each one, telling her the subjects and talking about the spots where they were made, in such an interesting manner that for full half an hour Valeria forgot the solemn duty of keeping him at a distanca But as they came to the last of the sketches she recalled it, and mourned her temporary unbending. “This is really lovely,” she said, taking up a view of the Hudson: “I should like to buy it. What ia the price of it, Mr. Ellis?” Dick stared at her in amazement. “Excuse me,” he said coldly; “my sketches are not for sale.” “But I want this one particularly.” “Then, Miss Vandersteen, will you honor me by accepting it?” “Certainly not; I couldn’t do such a thing. You must sell it me. ” “I would mueh rather giro it you." “But I won’t take it What price do you ask?" “I have never really thought of it,” said Dick. ‘ ‘Would $25 be enough?” “Since you make a point of buying it—yes.” Valeria produced her purse, paid the mouey and carried off the sketch in triumph. “Now he can’t presume on knowing us,” she reflected “If I had accepted the drawing he might have made use of the incident to foist himself on us in London, but now it's merely a matter of business." If Dick uttered something unorthodox under his breath after Miss Vandersteen had left him, it might surely be forgiven. He collected bis sketches once’more, and went to Alice Barclay. “I have just had anew experience, Miss Barclay,” he said; *‘l have been earning money.” “Indeed! How?” she asked. “Miss Vandersteen has just bought one of my sketches for $25. ” “O, MSfcEllis! And you. let her do it?" “She insisted on it. I asked her to take it as a gift, but she evidently considered the offer presumptuous, so I was obliged to let her have her own way. But I don’t like to be insulted, even by a lady, and lest Miss Vandersteen should wish to purchase any further specimens of my work, I want you to ao me a favor.” “I?” said Alice, iu astonishment “Yes. Will you accept the whole portfolio as* a token of an Englishman's admiration for yonr country?” “Oh, I can't, Mr. Ellis. It is too great a gift.” “Perhaps you would prefer to buy them?” “How can you be so unkind? You know I don’t mean that” “Forgive me, I had no right to speak to you like that; hut Miss Valeria's manner irritated me so much. You will forgive me, Aliee? Ah, in token of yonr forgiveness you will accept my work, will you not? I should like to think that it was in your possession." And what could Alice do but blush and consent? At last Liverpool was reached, and the Misses Vandersteen took train for London, there to place themselves under the care of Lady Barbara Macrrab.

Lady Barbara Macnab was a disappointed woman. When, as Lady Barbara Vandeleur, die had first made her entrance into society, she had been mueh admired, and consequently she had disdainfully refused several offers of marriage which, though good, were not great enough to satisfy her ambition. It was, as the result proved, an unwise course for a lady so slenderly portioned as she. for an attack of smallpox deprived her of her beauty, and then she was obliged to ask herself, not whom she should marry, but who would marry her. The question seemed difficult of solution, but at last a suitor appeared m the person of Mr. Mcnab, of Tulliecawdor. It is true that this gentleman was on the high road to sixty, aud possessed certain characteristic Scottish vices, in addition to a Scottish length of pedigree and a Scottish shortness of purse, but Lady Barbara accepted him, saying in her own mind that it was better to be a widow than a spinster. Os the inter vening stage of existence os a wife, the less said the better. Within two years, however, Mr. Maenab was laid in the grave of his fathers at Tulliecawdor, and Lady Barbara was a free woman once more. But she was not a rich one. The jointure she received from the Tulliecawdor estates was not sufficient to satisfy alt her desires, and she had been obliged to add to her income by various means. She wrote paragraphs on balls, bazaars and beauties for society journals; she was obliging in countenancing and taking the man agement of the entertainments of rieh parvenus, who, of course, gave her a handsome present as an expression ot their gratitude, and were privileged to send wine, fruit and game when she gave a party; and every season she introduced a young lady into society. For tnia, too, she was —paid ia too harsh a word; let us say coinpen sated, by the girl’a family if she was rich, or by the man she married if she was poor. Lady Barbara demanded three things of her charges: that they should be pretty, obedient to her directions and ready to marry at the end of the season. She could mot stand girls who insisted on flirting with detrimentals and refusing good offers; they must he sensible and traetable. And, let me tell you. Lady Barbara was very successful in her vocation; she never had a failure, and she had several triumphs. Did not her last American heiress become Countess of Bogoak, and relieve the Earl of all future anxiety as to the the caprices of his Milesian tenants? Waa it not one of her ebarming but penniless protegees who married young Ironstone, whose coal-mines are the envy of thousands? It was to her care that the Misses Vandersteen were consigned, and her ladyship could not help feeding with modest pride that they could not have had a better chaperone. She was delighted with her new chargesL She had artistically advertised them by writing in the Glass of Fashion, the paper to which she contributed, paragraphs about “the new American beauties, who are at present the guests of Lady Barbara Macnab at her charming little house, the rendezvous of the elate of the social and artistic world" She described their dresses and their diamonds, and the sensation they created when they appeared at the drawing-room; but she knew weft that advertisements ao not always bring the success they aim at. In this case, however, they answered their purpose, the Misses Vandersteen were among the most suecesfu? of the season's debutantes, and Lady Bar-

bara began to entertain justifiable hopes of a success greater than any of her previous ones. “Make yourselves look as charming as possible to-night," she said to her protegees on* evening in May; “Lady Foxland is one of the best dressed women in Europe, and she won’t stand dowdiness even in a princess. ” “And she’s very select, too, isn’t she?" “Words won’t describe it She draws the line finer than any woman in London. I almost went down on my knees to her to get an invitation to a ball far James Ironstone after he was engaged to Evelyn Mowbray, but she wouldn't yield. T believe Mr. Ironstone’s father was a collier,’ sTi<* said. 'I decline to receive him, and if IB Mowbray marries him I shall not receive her either;’ and she has kept her word. Any one who goes to Foxland House is safe, and as the Marchioness never crowds her rooms your dresses are seen to the best advantage. You ought to make a sensation to-night.” Never had Lady Barbara had greater oause to he proud of her guests. They were beautiful, exquisitely dressed and successful. Every man in the room wished to danee with them, and, which delighted Lady Barbara more, Lady Foxland herself spoke of them as “your charming young friends." “If those girls don’t make the qest matches of the season I will never bring one out again!” thought Lady Barbara. “Valeria,” said Eirnyntrude to her sister, “I am almost sure I saw Alice Barclay." “Impossible! She knew no one in London; how could she get here?” But even as she spoke she saw Aliee and, with her, Dick Ellis. Lady Barbara only noticed the latter. " “There is a man I must introduce to you.' she said, “he who is going into the c ■‘i , vatory > with that little dark girl—l wonder woo she is! —Diek Ellis. I suppose he is staying here. ” “Here! in the house, do yon mean?” asked Valeria I “Yes.” “Oh, surely not* “Why not? Lord Foxland is his uncle." “But he is only an artist." “An artist! He goes in for painting a good deal, I know. But he is Lord Eastburne's only son, and heir to the earldom of Sussex.” “But, Lady Barbara, that Mr. Ellis's name is Hugh Roderick Herbert le Marchant." “Yes, but everybody calls him Dick. He ia a charming fellow." The Misses Vandersteen nearly fainted with horror, but their partners claiming them at that moment they were forced to subdue their feel ings: but the gentlemen who had the honor of dancing with them were surprised to find them so silent. When they returned to their chaperon they found that Lady Barbara had captured Dick, and was questioning him abont Alice. “She is Miss Barclay” they heard him say. “Her parents and she came over in the same vessel as 1, and since then they have been staying with my people at Rourne Lodge.” “She looks very charming." Dick smiled. “I think her so,” he answered; “but perhaps my word won’t be accepted, as she is the young lady I am going to many." i “Indeed, I congratulate you,” said Lady Barbara, with every correct appearance of delight, but with disappointment in her heart, nevertheless It was a good parti lost. “Let me intro- : duce you to the Misses Vandersteen,” she added, f however, as a duty. The future Earl of Sussex was worth having as a friend, even if he was lost as a husband “I am already slightly acquainted with them,” said Dick, and with a few words, polite but chilly, he left them. Then Lady Barbara perceived, for the first time, the confusion written on the girls’ faces. “Why, my dears, what is the matter?” she asked. “Let us go home, Lady Barbara. Oh, let us so home!" almost sobbed Valeria; “If we stop ve minutes longer I shall begin to cry.” Lady Barbara was alarmed. She carried them off as speedily as possible, a growing anxiety mingling with her bewilderment. “Ana now,” she said, when they were home once more, ‘ ‘what is the matter?” So they told the tale of their blunder, Lady Barbara listening with a face on which bewilderment gave place to gravity, and anxiety to horror. “And oh!” exclaimed Ermyntrude, when all was told, “that I should have said to the girl he is going to marry that he couldn’t give me any information about England that would be of use to me!" “And that I,” sobbed Valeria, “should have refused to take the picture he offered me, and insisted on paying him $25 for it!” ! “You have ruined yourselves,” said Lady Bar- ' bara solemnly. If either he or his fiancee mentions a word of this to any one—and though he may be silent, she won’t—it will be all over London in twenty four hours, and everybody will be . laughing at you.” Then Lady Barbara was silent for a time, considering the situation. For the girls’ mortification she did not care—indeed, she regarded it as only a jnst punishment for not making sure ; whom they were snubbing before being rude to Mr. Elhs and his betrothed; but the odium which their folly reflectegi'pn hri' filled her with vexation. It was her first failure, and it came when she had been anticipating a marked success After all her skill and care and good management, to come to a fiasco like this* Her reputation as a marriage-maker would be ruined if the Vandersteens’ mistake, in all its enormity, came to the world's ears, and she would never be intrusted with a debutante again. She felt that she detested the poor girls, of whom an hour ago she had been so proud, and now her sole desire was to get rid of them as soon as possible. “I think,” she said at last, “that you have spoken of some friends in Paris whom you meant to visit in the autumn. Under the circumstances, the best thing you can do is to go to Paris at once.”

FLOWERS THAT TELL TIMK. A Garden Which Dispenses with the Necessity of a Clock. San Francisco Call. The Judge’s house was over in the French quarter of New Orleans, unattractive outside, but as soon as you got into the broad hall a eool breeze struck you, laden, without exaggeration, with the balm of a thousand, flowers. The hall led right through the house and opened into a regular fairyland of flowers, a garden the like of which I had never dreamed of. It was surrounded by a high wall, and had plants in it from every country under the sun. The whitehaired old gentleman and a group of grandchildren hanging about him took us about, and the first thing we stopped at was a large oval plot, set out with smalt plants around the edge. “This,” said the Judge, “is my clock. What time is it, Clara?” ho asked of one of the children. The girl ran around the plot aud said it was about 4 o’clock, and so it was. The 4 o'clock was in bloom. "In fact,” said the story-teller, “the elock was made up of flowers.* In the center was a pair of hands, of wood, covered with some beautiful vine, but they had nothing, however, to do with the time-telling. The plan was this: The Judge had noticed that almost every hour in the day some plant bloomed, and, working on this principle, he had selected plants of different hours and planted them in a cirele, twenty-four in number, one for each hour. For example, at the top of the earthem dock, at 12 o’clock, was planted the portulacoa, and he told me that it would bloom within ten minutes of 12, and rarely mised. At the hoars of 1, 2 and 3he had different varieties of this same plant, all of which bloomed at the hour opposite to which it was planted. At 4 o’clock he had our common plant of that name, and you all know how you can depend on that At 5 the garden nictago came oat, at 6 the geranium triste, and at 7 the evening primrose. Opposite 8 o'clock he had the bonna nox, and at 9 the si feme noctiflora—all these blooming at or near the time given. At 10 o'clock, ir I remember rightly, he had a cactus, at 11 another kind, and at 13 the night-blooming cereus. Half the year some of the plants don't bloom at all. The plants opposite 1 and 2in tjie morning were cacti,- that bloomed about that time, and at 3 was planted the common salsify, and at 4 the chicory, at 3 the snow-thistle, and at C the dandelion. A Homely &bl Was met by us a few weeks ago. Her complexion was as rough as the skin of a rhinoceros, and as mottled us sausage-meat, her eyes dull and heavy and her lips every color but red. Recently we saw the same young lady, but how different! Her complexion hi as clear and delicate as porcelain, her lipe twin cherries, her eyes bright as dewdrops. Yet all this difference lies in a rectified condition of the Mood, to accomplish which she used Dr. Pierce’s “Holden Medical Discovery.”

Say Not the Struggle Naught Avail*th. Say not the Strega!* naught availeth. The labor and the wounds are vain. The enemy faints not. nor faileth. And as things have been they remain. If hopes were dopes, fears may be Ears; It may be, ia you smoke concealed. Your comrades chase, e’en now the fliers, And but for you, possess the field. For whSe the tired waves, vainly breaking. Seem here no painftil inch to gain, Far back, through creeks and inlets making, Conies silent, flooding in, the main. And not by eastern windows only. When daylight comes, comes in the light: In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly. But westward, look! the laud is bright. Arthur Hugh Clough. THE DAY’S HIMDK. Note by a cynic—“There are two kinds of women—the bad and the worse.” It is a mean father who, as early as 11:30 at night, will scare his daughter from her Alphonse's arms by calling from the top of the stair, “Sarah, wind up the clock. It must have run down.”—Philadelphia Call. Evidence Clergyman (on his way from ehurch, to the son of a parishoner. rather addicted to hunting on Sunday): My little boy, I diiTt see your father at church this morning; I am afraid be does not fear God. Young heathen: Oh, yes, 1 guess he does; he took his gun with him this morning.—New York Life. Beneath a shady tree they sat; He held her hand, she held his hat; I held my breath and lay right flat; They kissed—l saw them do it. He held that kissing was no crime; She held her head up every time: I held mv peace and wrote this rhyme, While they thought no one knew it. —Princetoman. At the Kink. She went to the roller-skating riuk, And put the sliders on; A strap or two about her shoe, And then she’s off and gone. She slid, she slode, she glid, she gtode. Unheld by fear or fetter. But at last the gentle maid was “throwed,” And the roller skates upset her. One Time, Two Motions. She sat upon his lap— Happy chap! And their billing and their earing Made it plain that they wore wooing— Came a rap! * * * * * # On a camp-chair just in sight. Bolt upright, Sat the young man, and the daughter Was compounding a sonata With her might. —Burlington Press. A Distinction. San Francisco Poet. “1 understand,” said a cow-county politician, walking into the office of the local paper the other day, revolver in hand. “I understand that you called me a liar in your paper this morning.” “So I did, my dear sir,” said the editor calmly; “but I only said you were a campaign liar." “Oh! Is that all?” said the mollified intruder, and after tendering the moldev of public opinion his fine-cut, he walked peacefully out. Asking Too Uttrii of Him. New York Sun. “My dear,” said a wife to her husband, ‘‘suppose a party of men should break into the house some night when you were away, and abduct me, what would you do?” “That is not a supposable case," he replied. “I know it is not likely to occur, but just imagine it.” “impossible.” “Well, you certainly can imagine it.” “No, I can’t, my dear."

Treading the Downward Path. New York Sun. “You are not taking as good care of yourself as formerly, old man. What's the matter? A streak of hard luck?” “Yes. rather.” “What are you doing?” “1 am landlord of alargesummer-resortbotet.” “I shouldn’t think you would have very much reason to complain if that’s the case. Last season ; you were only a waiter.” 1 “I know it,” he answered, regretfully. Why He Was Regular. Brooklyn Ragle. “For ten years past,” said the new boarder, “my habits have been regular as dock-work. I rose on the stroke of 6; half an hour later I sat down to breakfast; at 7 I was at work; dined at 12, ate supper at 6, and was in bed at 9:30; ate only healthy food, and hadn't a sick day in ail that time.” “Dear me,” said the deacon, iu sympathetic tones, “and what were you in for?” And in the awful silence that followed you could hear the hash grate teeth. A Candidate’s Mistake. Pittsburg Dispatch. “Madame, may I kiss these beautiful children?” inquired the candidate, as he leaned over , the front gate. “Certainly, sir; there is nopossible objection." “They are lovely darlings, said he, after he had finished the eleventh. “I have seldom seen i more beautiful babes. Are they all yours, marm F The lady blushed deeply. “Os course they are,” he continued—“the sweet little treasures! From wham else, marm, could they have inherited these limpid eyes, these rosy cheeks, these profuse curls, these comely figures, and these musical voices!” The lady continued blushing. “By the way, marm.” said he, “may I bother you to tell your estimable hushand that a candidate for called upon him this evening?” “Alas, good air,” quoth the lady, “I have no husband r “But these children, madam—you surely are not a widow?” “I feared you were mistaken, sir, when you first came up. These are not my children. This is an orphan asylum." Site Understood Politics. The Judge. “Now, let me see if I understand this presidential election at Chicago,” saida blushing bride at Niagara to her spouse, as they gazed at the Niagara Falls, after they had enriched the hackman for life: “Blaine and Cleveland were chosen, were they not, my>deary pet?" “They were nominated at Chicago, my sweety sweet—not elected.” “When will they be elected my angel love?" “Only one of them will be elected, dove.” “Then why were both nominated at Chicago, petty pat?” “Yon see, my dear, one is a Democrat and the other is a Republican.” “Then what is the use of baring turn men nominated at Chicago if they cant both be elected! I know there are always two men on the ticket. There were Tilden and Hendricks and Hayes and Wheeler. Pa told me so.’’ “Yes; but you must understand that there is a Vice-president.” “Oh, my darling of darlings!" exclamed the bride, reproaching herself for her doubts; “I see it all now. Cleveland is to be President and Mr. Blaine Vice-president” Then the husdand mortgaged a farm of his and took his bride for a drive to whirlpool rapids in a back. Mind Reading with the Prince of Wales. London Standard. Mr. Stuart Cumberland was among the guests who accompanied the Prince of Wales by special train, on July 19, on a visit to Baron Ferdinand De Rothschild at his seat at Waddesdon. After dinner, at the desire of the Prince of Wales, Mr. Cumberland gave some illustrations of thoughtreading. With the Prince Mr. Cumberland was at once successful in an experiment, which tmn sisted in finding a medal on the breast of the Earl of Airlie, unpinning it and handing it to Lady Mandeville. Mr. Chaplin, M. F„ hid a pie in the coat of the Prince of Wales, during Mr. Cumberland's absence from the room; in a moment Mr. Cumberland proceeded to the place and plucked out the pin. Lady Mandeville’s test afforded infinite amusement to the company. Mr. Cumberland correctly interpreted an idea she had in her mind, by taking up a biscuit and putting H in Mr Christopher Sykes's mouth. Mr. Cumberland was next successful in tefiing the number of a note thought of by the Italian embassador, and locating a pain ia the body of Lord Castlereagh. A curious hunt—in which every one present

heartily joined—after ao unnamed object in another part of the house, with Baron RotbschiM a-” ‘ v " embassador as subjects, formed v o f< t< U ti tl and P n P a tl e J 1 f i I on t'other side ot your uttie ouuuy, aim u you shake him and pat him if he goes to wake up, and don’t you agervate Ipm nuther. I’ve had too hard a . time a-gittin* of him to sleep for the likes of you to wake him up; you chiliun has been a-stnflm’ of him on them old hard green peaches and everthmg else you could lay your hands on all day long, and I don’t look for nothin' else but for him to have a spasm this night. Fetch yourself here to me. William Henry Forney, you and Robert E Lee. and wash them black feet of yourn and lay down thar side of your sis. Don’t you hear me, William Henry? Come hero to me quick and wash them pizen blaek feet of yourn. and lay down thar side of your big sis quick ’fore I knock you down, and don’t let me hear another whimper from you to-night. I owe you a beating anyhow for snatchin’ that chicken rizzard out’n your tittle buddy's hand. Now uuu't try to take up all the room and spread yourself all over that ar pallet, for your sis May Liza's got to pile in thar some'rs.” Cal gin a groan and rolled over to the edge of the pallet, wonderin' how she was ever gwine to sleep. Old Miss Raincrow fussed around anil got all the chillun’s feet washed and to bed; then she tuck a smoke and Wowed out the taller candle and left it a smokin’ and smell in' wnsseria the pipe, and went to bed grumblin’. *T Jay es he comes home from that grocery drunk tonight. I lay I make him wish he never had. saw no whisky.” Everything cot still and Ca! tuck a notion she'd git on tother side of the pallet away from the child that was likely to have a spasm. She gin Robert E. Lee a shove and he worked his way off n the pallet up into the smutty fireplace and sot up a yell. “Git up from thar, Robert E. Lee, and git yourself back on that ar pallet 'fore 1 stomp the life out'n yon—but he cried on—l lay I ean put you back,” and she riz in the dark and piled him over in amongst 'em, then come down on Cal with a rousing slap I mought hard kaowed your sis May Liza wouldn’t rest tel she kicked you off'n this her* pallet. ” “H’s me you are a bittin’,” says Caledony. “Don't—oh! don't, it’s me, I toll you." “Yes, I know it’s ‘me,’ and it’s me Pm attar.” says old Miss Rainerow. “You’ve been a devilin’ and a tormentin' your little buddy all day long and a eaehin’ for a whippin, and you are not a gwine to rest till yqu git it. Now take that (girin’another slap) and fay still and shet up you mouth 'fore I beat the life out'n you.” 1 tell you Cal hushed quick, feered she mought ketch it agin. I hearn the boys tn the shed room snickerin’ After while everything got quiet, but it wasn't long tel little John T. Morgan rolled over tother chillun’ and turned his heels loose, kickin’ Cal iu the face. It was pitch dark. She couldn't see him. but she yelled out, “This child's got a spasm. Come and git him. Como quick; he’s got a spasm. ” Old Miss Raincrow riz quick and struck a light and tuck the young'un in bed longer her, and Cal was mad kase she hadn’t thought about that spasm. COLORED FOLK. COURTSHIP. A Singular Characteristic of th* Negro Raff Albany. Ga., News. “Did you see those two colored men that left the store as you came in?” asked Mr. Mitchell, of Welch & Agar's book-store, of a News and Advertiser scribe, who was on a stroll in search of items yesterday. Being answered in the affirmative, Mr. Mitchell continued: “1 don’t suppose that you could guess, after a number of trials, what their purchase was. They clubbed together and bought a paek of ooorthtg cards, and appeared perfectly happy as they pocketed their investment. It would surprise you to know the number of courtship cards, love-letter cards, letter-writers, books containing hints on courtship and marriage, and ether aids to the bashful in declaring the tender passion that we sell to the colored people during the busy season. Such literature is as standard as wheat, and we can hardly supply the demand.” “Why should the colored race show such a fondness for that class of works?” asked the scribe. “Why they should so greedily buy up books of that description,* Mid Mr. M., “was always a mystery to me until a few years ago. While on the plantation of Mr. H. L. Dona he put me to thinking about it While speaking of some of the peculiarities of the negro race, Mr Dunn remarked that he had noticed with surprise the extreme bashfulness or timidity of the most hardened eases among the young men when on the eve of proposing marriage. No matter how intimately they have lived together upon the plantation, whan they decided to vary th* monotony of their lives by a marriage, and the time comes for popping the question, they appear to proceed with the most remarkable timidity and seem to think that some certain unvarying form must bn gone through with in asking the important query. Not daring to commence a verbal declaration, the owners or managers of the plantations are generally asked to write the notes and conduct the correspondence. Since then I have watched the colored young men who come in and call for love cards, letter hooka, etc., and have frequently questioned them closely about their love affaire. Finding the printed form convenient and filled with long words expressive of undying affection, they resort to them invariably when any courting has to be carried on. Fallowing the directions carefully as to the manner of conducting themselves under the circumstances, and, copying verbatim the flowery love letters with which the books are filled, they feel that their courtship is car ried on in the proper style.” A Boy with a Catfish. Bock Fall* News. On Friday of last week a boy naipafi Forba, living at Rock Falls, was fishing froin the dam and hooked a catfish. He was unable to pull it in. and after straggling a while the -fish turned and started down stream. The boy went over the dam head first bolding on to the pole, and started for the Mississippi river, the catfish in the lead. As they went post the paper mat some of the workmen saw the boy in the water and went to his rescue m a boat. They overtook him opposite the island, near the old bridge, and took him into the boat. He was still holding the pole and hooked to the line was the catfish, which they captured. The boyweighed eighty-five pounds asil the catfish thirty-five pounds and she ounces. Thus it is demonstrated that n catfish can get away with mere than twice his weight of hoy. The boy says he would have followed the fish to Rock Island before he would have given him op. Better Than Vacation. This is pre-eminently the vacation month, when thousands seek rest and recreation. But to those who suffir the depressing effects of summer debility, the disagreeable symptoms of scrofula, the tortures or biliousness, dyspepsia or sick headache, there Is more pain than pleasure in leaving home. To such we any. give Hood’s SarSaparißa a trial. It purify >w Woo* tone up and strengthen your body, expel every trace ot serefvia. correct biliousness, and positively cure dyspepsia or rifck headache. Take it issa®*** —“■*

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