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~ m 4 * i# a strange thing in the ceremo­ nialism of life that the frankest of emo- tions should be of all others bound the most to be oonven tional, that what is held out to be the most sacred of emotions . • should be compelled to obtrude itself On all beholders and to trick itself out for the common gaze duly intense to the regulation pattern. Sorrow for the -dead must be sorrow by the yard; re- 7 ' i jprets have their measure in the width : of a hat-band and the depth of a tuck. ^t|| Other griefs are taught to go patient and obscure, but this flaunts itself in uniform, puts on, as it were, a label, >j£ "Genuine grief, very decorous," makes its outward garb its advertisement. And the display is avowedly and abso­ lutely under the rules of fashion and -etiquette; it has no spontaneous sym­ bolism, no meaning of its own at all. It simply says, " Look at me; this is .how sorry my respectability requires me to be in the present state," and by- and-by, "Look at me; my respecta­ bility requires me to be so far consoled 4&t this puriuu of illy and sccictjY .accepts the clothes as a formal certifi­ cate, and it is understood that, wheth­ er there be actual sorrow or no, there is no hypocrisy, since Mie respectabil­ ity, not the sortow, is what the clothes really indicate. The milliner's scales vary somewhat, but each has her defi­ nite scale of lamentation in trimmings, «id the widow and the orphan costume their grief by her diction. And, if any lady, having to Show the world that she has suffered a bereavement, and is correctly affected by it, mistrusts the milliner's or the mourning salesman's authority, there are manuals on the etiquette of mourning to instruct her minutely, to a button or a frill, how to express the exact tribute of regret ac • • cording to the degree of relationship, .and to a day exactly how long to go on expressing it. There is no formality with so little feigningin it. as the wear­ ing of mourning; lor its matter-of- form nature is not merely confessed but made its chief claim to polite ad­ miration. There is little to be said in blame of the untruthfulness of mourning. Every courtesy, whether to the living or the dead, which society adopts as a duty, 'becomes a necessity from a matter of prescription, frequently a matter of pretense. Your black nat-band to the memory of the kinsman you feel un­ able to regret, from want of knowing him, or from knowing him too well, is no more deceitful than your white favor, sign of rejoicing, at a wedding •which need never have taken place, for anything you care. But that the cus­ tom of wearing mourning is harmless, is by no means uncontrovertible. It is not one which the fashionable and the wealthy can assign to themselves and leave the humble their freedom if they choose to take it. If the Duchess likes to hobble herself inside "pulled-back" skirts and impart a Chinese elegance to her impeded steps, we need not waste sympathy on tlie washerwoman who follows suit; nothing worthy of sym­ pathy in her impels her to the imita­ tion. But if fashion and respectability combine to establish the rule that not to wear some particular kind or color of dress is to do dishonor to the memo- <ry of our dead, the poorest classes are •coerced by all they nave of tender feel­ ings, and all their self-respect, to wear the livery of woe--at what cost God knows, and often the devil knows, too. And with the victims of that coercion we ought to sympathize. And the very tribute of decency toward the dead is, where poverty comes in, a source of hideous, though unmeant, irreverence to the dying. The new dress becomes needful, past waiting for, there will too probably be mourning to wear soon, so the new dress is chosen to serve for mourning and the black for the funeral hangs in a cupboard in the invalid's room and goes out to Sunday church and pleasuring before his eyes. How • else, when money for new dresses is so hard to come by, and respect for him and the neighbors will require good black; if one may judge by the adver­ tisements of a well-known mourning dealer's firm, this thoughtful provision of mourning beforehand is not unknown in families capable of paying high -prices^ for ladies are informed with bland iteration, in pretty v.ell every newspaper they can lay hands on, how, in cases of sudden and unexpect­ ed mourning, special and prompt at­ tention to thejr dressmaking necessities -can be afforded them by this energetic firm-the inevitable inference from the wording of the advertisements being that, where the need for mourning is not sudden and unexpected, the proper 'Clothes will have been laid in at leisure beforehand. If tnis be the case, there must be an odd conflict of feelings at times in the minds of expecting and provident mourners--on the one hand, the wish that the beloved relative should recover; on the other, the sense that, if he really cannot recover, it will be very awkward if he survives long -enough for the mourning dresses to get out of fashion before they can appro­ priately be taken into wear; and if a modest black serge, or some such not too anguishful stuff for double duty, • should get taken into wear before the 'bereavement, it must require consider­ able extra resignation to have at once 'to watch it growing shabby and the sufferer sinking. All women say &hat mourning is very expensive. Mert, in their ignorance, aware that their female relatives often wear some sort of black garment, and call it economical, suppose that black, under the name of mourning, may easily be a cheap and serviceable costume, if will­ ful or weak extravagance has nothing !to say to its cost. If any man wants to •comprehend whether and why there is --a, difference financially between a liber- ™ U8e black in ordinary attire and the purchase and keeping up of a head- to-heel black outfit in mourning mate- na.s, *et nip consult any woman capa- bl© of keeping accounts who h&s ever arrayed herself in orthodox garb of grief. But, supposing that women's moiirning were not in itself more ex­ pensive than any ordinarv dress of or- - dinary women, that even "it were less expensive, and that all mourning in a household--the men's, the children's the servants, too--were less expensive than the usual colored clothing, what is4t when all at once everybody in the Jhousehold must have a new outfit, re­ gardless of the condition of the present wardrobe? Without sneaking of the homes in which actual poverty pre­ vails, there are but a minority of homes in which the death of the husband or father does not make an immediate fall of income; in many cases the fall is from ease to penury. Perhaps the house has to be given up, the sons must be put to cheaper schools and bred to humbler professions, the grown-up daughters must go out as governesses and companions, the younger ones must do without education and thrive as they may on stinted. meals--but out of the scanty funds mourning outfits must be purchased: every consideration must give way to tnat. :' Where the grief represented by mourning is deep and real, mourning is' frequently a peculiarly cruel infliction. We have to clothe ourselves in a sym­ bolism which symbolizes nothing but the undertaker; we may not put on so much as a glove or a necktie, but it is to speak of the funeral gloom. It is thus that the dead get forgotten; from the day they depart we force their deaths --not th^ir l«ves--on our minds, and the thought is too painful, and we are glad when we can turn from it. It is a memory to put by with the black clothes; and it kills the brighter one that surely if the one weshould all wish to be mourned by. To women of im­ pressionable temperament, to those especially with the artistic susceptibil­ ity to the influence of color and light --a susceptibility which belongs to the very many women who have no artistic genius, belongs, perhaps, to the major­ ity of women--the lugubrious sur­ roundings of their own clothes is an aggravation of mental pain which they should be forbidden for health and san­ ity's sake; and to any woman who needs the power, of fixing her attention cn other things than her misfortunes the reminder forever in her sight is a practical mischief. Men's mourning, if not more reasonable, is less hurtful, because less obtrusive. Most men are habitually unaware of the pattern and color of the suit they are inside; but a woman's dress is, at its skimpiest, too voluminous to escape her notice; and it is not a woman's nature not to see her dreSs.--London Examiner.' A. Night and Horning In Brazil. Mr. Wilson was obliged to be next day at Santo Antonio, a little town about thirty miles distant, across one of the ridges, on another river where he had a line of steamers plying, and he asked us to ride there with him; so we .went back to his house and dined, and spent the evening at his window inhaling the soft, flower-perfumed air, and gazing at the stars twinkling in their crystal dome of the deepest blue, and their travesties in a galaxy of fire­ flies glittering and dancing over the flowers in the garden beneath Us. It was late when we tossed ourselves down to take a short sleep, for two o'clock was the hour fixed to be in the saddle in the morning. We rode out of the town in the starlight--Mr. Wil­ son, Capt. Maclear and myself, with a native guide on a fast mule. We were now obliged to trust entirely to the in­ stinct of our horses; for if a path were visible in the daylight, there was cer­ tainly none in the dark, and we scrambled for a couple of hours right up the side of the ridge. When #e reached the top, we came out upon flat open ground with a little cultivation, bounded in front of us by the dark line of dense forest. The night was almost absolutely silent; only now and then a peculiar shrill cry of* some night-bird reached us from the woods. As we got into the skirts of the forest, the morning broke; but the reveil in a Brazilian forest is wonderfully different from the slow creeping on of the dawn of a sum­ mer morning at home, to the music of the thrushes answering one another's full rich notes from neighboring thorn- trees. Suddenly a yellowish light spreads upward" in the east, the stars quickly fade, and the dark fringes of the forest and the tall palms show out black against the yellow sky, and al­ most before one has < time to observe the change, the sun has risen, straight and fierce, and the whole landscape is bathed in tlie full light of the day. But the morning is yet for another hour cool and fresh, and the scene is inde­ scribably beautiful. The woods, so ab­ solutely silent and still before, break at once into noise and movement. Flocks of toucans flutter and scream on the tops of the highest forest trees, hope­ lessly out of shot; the ear is pierced by the strange, wild screeches of a little band of macaws which fly past you like the rapped-up ghosts of the fords on some gaudy old brocade. There is no warbling, no song, only harsh noises, which those who haunt the forest soon learn- to translate by two or three familiar words in Portuguese or English. Now and then a set of cries more varied and dissonant than usual tell us that „a troop of mon­ keys are passing across from tree to tree among the higher branches; and lower sounds, to which one's attention is called by the guide, indicate to his practiced ear tne neighborhood of a sloth or some other of the few mam­ mals which .inhabit the forests of Bra­ zil. And the insects are now all awake, and add their various notes to swell the general din. A butterfly of the gor­ geous genus Morpho comes fluttering along the path like a loosely-folded sheet of intensely blue tinsel, flashing brilliant reflections in the sun; great dark blue shining bees fly past with a loud hum; tree-bugs of a splendid me­ tallic luster, and in the most extraordi­ nary harlequin coloring of scarlet and blue and yellow, cluster around a branch so thickly as to weigh it down and make their presence perceptible yards oft by their peculiar and some­ times not unpleasant odor. But how weafa^t is to say that that exquisite lit­ tle being whirring and fluttering in the air over that branch of Bignonia bells, and sucking the nectar from them with its long curved bill, has a head of ruby and throat of emerald and wings of sapphire--as if any triumph of the jew­ eler's art could ever vie in brilliancy with that sparkling epitome of life!-- From " Voyage of the Challenger --The humdn heart is like a buck wheat cake. Once cold it can never be itself again.--Picayune. .< i i Young Girls' Dresses. YOUNG girls JUST in their teens wear costumes very similar to the short suits now worn by ladies. The kilt skirt is especially appropriate for these young demoiselles On account of its simple folds and its freedom, from flounces, and the cut-away coat suits them bceause of its jauntiness. The scarf passed below the hips and tied on one side or behind is liked for plump girls with large hips, while a short apron over-skirt turned up all around, a la blanchisseuse, is used for those who are very slender. The kilt reaches to the ankles, and has a deep yoke at the' top. The coat must be quite long in order to conceal the yoke and to serve for a street wrap as well as for a house dress. The vest is usually of silk, and is made entirely separate from the coat, so thht it may be alternated with other vests of white pique or of checked woolen. The merest piping oi silk is used for trimming such dresses. For nice occasions summer bourette with silk is made in this way; for move general wear the material is pinheadi checks of black, blue, green, or brown with white in wool goods of light qual­ ity. Round bullet-shaped buttons of polished horn, such as are sold for twenty-five cents a dozen, are put on these woolen dresses, and shaded pearl buttons are chosen for the nicer bonrettes., For the mountains, the sea­ shore aiid country use generally, these suits are made of flannel, either light or gray, or dark blue, or green, and are merely stitched near the edges in several parallel rows. Gray or brown de bege is made by this design for trav­ eling dresses and for school suits. If any trimming Is used, narrow worsted braid is sewed in rows on the over-skirt and jacket. Those who like still more dressy suits put bands of trimming near the bottom of the kilt plaits, such as one or two rows of very wide braid, or else bands of bias silk serve as a bor­ der. Another fancy is to put an up­ right pointed bit of silk on each kilt plait; this is about four inches long, is cut of bias across the top, and begins on the extreme end of each plait. For percale, lawn and calico dresses for young girls the favorite mpde is the plaited basque, with a square yoke in back and front, and a deep collar turned over as a Carrick, or else mere­ ly a Byron collar. The overskirt is a long apron gathered back by a bow in thp sheath design. The skirt Hi THERE are 1,703 convicts at Sing Sing, N. Y., the largest number ever confined there. TUB Philadelphia Press prints a calculation to show that the electric light is twenty-one times cheaper than gas. THE Boston Publie Garden is adorned by 40,000 tulips, imported at a cost of $800, and the Transcript thinks the in­ vestment was a good one. THE best dairymen contend that the milk product of a cow can be made worth $75 per annum. This would make the annual product irom our 8,000,000^ cows yield $600,000.000.-- Ioiijii State liCyiot&F. ONH of the wards of New York, the Sixth, is frightfully unhealthy. The death-rate is forty in every 1,000 in­ habitants, whereas seventeen to the thousand is the usual rate. The people in that ward are poor persons crowded into the vilest tenements. THE report of the Connecticut Insur­ ance Commissioner shows that the seven leading fire insurance companies of Hartford have paid $95,300,562.52 losses, 816,003,715 cash dividends, and ~ ,045,000 stock dividends. The total cash capital of the companies to-day is $7,450,000. DURING 1867, there were manufact­ ured in the United States 459,568 tons of iron rails and 2,550 tons of Bessemer steel rails--total, 462,108. From that time to the end of 1877 the production of steel rails steadily increased, so that at the end of the latter year, of the 764,709 tons rolled in this country, 432,179 tons were of Bessemer steel to 332,450 of iron. FOR ten years past a contractor of Bradford, Eng., has paid £800 for am- moniacal liquor produced at the gas­ works. The contract hps now been re­ let for seven years, at £10,359 per an­ num. The holder of the present con­ tract put in a tender at £&,000. The vast increase in the value of the liquor is due to the discovery in it of a chem* ical substance used in an line dyes. THE latest estimate of the total forcb of the Russian armies available for service in Bulgaria, Armenia, or the Euxine, is 480,000 infantry and 60,000 cavalry. It is believed that their losses in the recent war in killed, wounded missing and sick will not fall far short of the almost incredible total of 250,- 000. One correspondent estimates the army in Bulgaria and Roumelia at 250,000. THE New York Daily Bulletin pub­ lishes a table showing that the exports from the Port of New York for the ten months ending April 30, including $13,642,771 of specie, amounted to $294,423,554, against $258,199,485 for the same portion of the previous fiscal year. The imports, on the contrary, show a decrease, being, including $35,- 581,838 specie, but $258,715,611, against $264,553,363 for the same portion of the Srevious fiscal year. The customs uties collected at New York during the past ten months aggregated $78,- 350,311. THE colored waiter business at the summer watering places is not incon­ siderable, and no class of people feel the hard times more keenly; The " season" rarely extends over six weeks. Their wages have been reduced from $25 to $20 per month, and the same cause that has effected this re­ duction has also led to a falling off in the fees and gratuities given by guests. Formerly these fees amounted to even $50 and $75 a month, but now $20 or a season is considered fair. The colored waiters, who are exclusively employed at Saratoga, spend the rest of the year South, as the expense of living is less there. At Saratoga the Grand Union employs 300 waiters; Con­ gress Hall, 120; United States, 175; Clarendon, 35; Windsor, 30. trimmed with a single border flounce The best plan when making the plaited basque is to fit a lining in basque shape, and then cover it with the yoke and plaited part. In order to "have the material all shrink alike when washed, this lining should be of the material of the dress; the nicest im­ ported suits of wash goods are all lined in this way. One of the most durable fabrics for young girls' dresses is the linen lawn with white grounds dotted or strewn with Japanese figures, or else barred or striped with color; they cost twenty-five or thirty cents a yard, do not fade, are cool, and wear well. They are made up in the way just described and trimmed with fluted ruffles that are edged with the nar­ rowest fine torchon iace, and will en­ dure rough usage from school-girls. Next there are Scotch ginghams in their cool, clean patterns of broken lines and bars of pink with blue, or else dark blue, red or green • on white. These are similarly made, and edged with narrow Hamburg-work, all white, .or else with scallops of red on blue to suit the color in the ginghams. The percales with dark grounds, olive- gray, or blue, and bourette effects, or else polka dots, are .chosen with the soft finish, but not with the glaze that makes them wash badly. Bias bands of the same and knife-plaitings are the trim­ mings for these. Pretty calicoes for ten cents a yard, and sometimes less, have sprigs of color, and a border that makes very heat trimming in plain bands or on ruffles. The prinoesse dresses worn byv girls of twelve years, and the tiniest little ones also, are no longer plain, nor are they trimmed with scarfs. The fancy this season is to add jacket fronts to them, giving them in some designs the effect of a cutaway coat, while the princesse back is preserved. This jacket begins at the side in the under­ arm s3ams. and is buttoned by one, two or three buttons across the breast. These are made up of French bunting and trimmed with bands of si?k piped with silk of another col or. This French bunt­ ing should be dampened and pressed be­ fore it is made up, in order to shrink it at once* so that it will not shrink out of shape after it is worn. Another new design is that of putting plaits down the frontof princesse dresses, beginning them with a band of trimming that outlines a yoke; the garment is then buttoned behind. Still others have apron fronts, and some kilt-plaiting in the back; indeed, the greater nuniber of princesse dresses are cut off in the back below the waist, and finished off with kilt-plaiting. Two or three cardi­ nal collars are even more popular than yokes on the smallest princesse dresses. Plastron fronts simply piped and trimmed with a row of small yet thick pearl buttons down the middle are pretty on these little dresses; other plastrons are of silk laid in fine plaits the whole length of the front. A jabot of colored silk loops in another pretty trimming for the front of such dresses. Shell plaitings of silk edge the bottom of the fine bourette dresses imported for these little women. Gray pointille wool with pink or rose dots of silk makes these dresses very effective. _ Colored dresses are more worn by girls of three to five years of age than they formerly were. The fine Trench zephyr and Scotch ginghams are made in plaited dresses like the white ones just noted, and each box plait is bor­ dered with Hamburg edging. There are also gray and buff linen dresses in princesse shape edged with gray-col- ored embroidery done on Cashmere. Jackets for misses and for very small girls are in the cut-away shape, with­ out vests. They are single-breasted, and fastened by two or three buttons; a seam defines the waist line, and pocket flaps are set on at the back in this seam. The edges are merely stitched, or else they are bound. Gray homespun English cloths, or else dark navy blue cloth, are the favorite mate­ rials for these wraps. For school use, and on cool days in the country, the long ulster is now worn with Carrick capes, and a belt that confines the back, but does not appear in-front. These are also made of the English homespun cloths. Waterproof cloaks- of dark blue or gray are also made in slonder ulster shapes, with a hood or wl'Sh Carrick capes. Dressy little coats ii>i girls four or hve years are long princesse shapes, made of white pique, trimmed witn embroidery In open guipure designs. Very pretty trim­ mings for these are also made of braid crocheted in star patterns and used* as insertion. --Harper s Bazar. to get aroundl an ob- Teaching Mathematics. A COLLEGE student, while at good scholar in othpr branches, made sad failures in the mathematical studies. He said it was impossible to leann these, e-xcept by committing everything to memory. After graduating from col­ lege, he became a teacher in. a» large academy, and his classmates heard from time to time of his popularity and success as an instructor. 1± puzzled them a little to know how an instructor could teach algebra, geometry aad oth­ er studies which he did not understand himself. When one of them met him,, alter sev­ eral years, and called him. to. aocount, he said, laughing, that Yankee mother- wit never failed U stacle. On taking his school,, he-stated to the scholars that mathematics was the most important of studies,. bu4j failed of profit unless the scholar dfcd his work without aid. He wished., therefore, to state in advance,, that whale freely giv­ ing help in all other studies, he should give none in mathematics. The experi­ ment, he said, was a brilliant success, and his school was noted for thorough­ ness in mathematics. He added, how­ ever, that, dissatisfied with his ruse, he had, under a stern swaee of duty, grask- U'illJ' OV/ljUlt SOiuv wCility hliuw^i. m this line of study.-- Youth's Companiwi. --" Sales by candle" was the method of sale during the seventeenth century. A wax candle about an inch in length was set on the edge of a knife, and he that bid most before the candle was out was the buyer. COMING SDMMMB 'SnqncBifl comm*r the soft __ * Summer is comiwg!" the grind birdi«s fnrawter is comine-1 hear her <ptick steps; Tiike your last 1«* &S the beauHfal Bering. Lightly she steps from Mer th>o»e ia tbe mod- jancu: Summer is coming, mai I enraot Two of mv children have crept bosom: S» my April has left me but lingering May, ' What tho' bright Summer i» eaowned witfc roses. Deep in the forest Arbutus doth hide: 1 am .the herald of all the reiMoing; r Why must J one always (Lsuvtti me?" .cried. • ; f OTTW II ill MJTO iiiciiuOW RTNO DiiOwpS TU tuC daisies* ; Plucks the first bloom from thrappAe-trefr's- bough: 4 Autumn will rob me of all the sweet apples; I will take one from her store of then now. Summer i ̂ is coming! I hear tbe glad echo; Clearly it rings o'er the mountain and plainv Sorrowful Spring leaves the- beautiful wood­ lands, Bright, happy Summer begins her sweet - reign. --pora Govdale (ten ytart old), in St* Nicholas. Surprise Letters. --Jennie June says that putty color is very fashionable. It's very putty.-- Boston Post. THREE little girls--Lucy, Mary and Ellen--all teased their father to give them each a nice little garden that they might have "all to themselves," to sow just what seeds they liked, and to dig,, and hoe, and rake, without? anybody to help--it would be splendid! So on Monday morning their father marked off three beds just the same size, in a nice sunny place in the gar­ den, and divided them with1 little- sticks. "But, father, which is mine?." '"And mine?" " And mine?" they all cried out in chorus. " I'm not going to tell you. You. must find out yourselves." " Why, father," said Lucy, "how can- we find out?" " Well, I want my three little girls to get up bright and early, and see which will be first in the garden every morn­ ing for a week, and then you'll know without anybody's telling you, which is Lucv's, and which is Mary's, and which is-Ellen's flower-bed." " Why, dear father, how can weP" " Have patience, my little girls, and your flower-beds will tell you them­ selves." That was the greatest puzzle of all! I don't know how much patience they had; but I do know that six little feet were out of bed pretty early every morning, and pattering and racing round to see who would be first at their "gardens." On the fifth morning, Lucy was the fiirst in the garden, ana on the first bed she came to, her sharp ejes saw a few tiny green leaves just peeping out of the ground! "Oh, Ellen arid Mary, come quick, quick! There's something coming up in all our beds," and their bright eyes soon found out that cun­ ning little leaves, some round and some pointed, were tracing out letters on their beds, and in a week, as their father had said, they found out without anybody's telling them, who was the owner of each little garden--for there were written in bright, green letters, Lucy--Mary--Ellen. Now I will tell you how to make these "surprise letters," as I call them. Rake the ground nice and smooth, and then with the handle of yotir trowel make any letters you wish, the capi­ tals about a foot high, then sow mus­ tard and cress, which you can get mixed at the florist's stores. Sprinkle with water every evening if the weath- is dry, and in about a week, if the weather is warm, these letters will ap­ pear green and thick, and when two or three inches high, you can surprise your mother with a nice dish of salad of your own raising, and by cutting it even, and sprinkling with water fre­ quently, you will have pretty letters, and a nice wholesome salad for four or five wee^s.--Youth's Companion. Boys and Their Mothers. J AM sure you would have liked the two things that he d[id next--things which he was accustomed to do every morning of his life. First Tie went to the bureau and took up'a picture that'sad there i:n. easel-frame--the portrait?of his mother. "Good morning, my dear mother," he said gaily, and kissed the picture several times tenderly and reverentlv, just as, a few years later he might do that of some other woman whom he hoped to make his wife. Indeed, Royal Lowrie was very much in love with his- beautiful mother--in love with her as-1, like to see a boy in love with his moth­ er--so that no woman was fairer, or dearer, or more worthy of knightly service than she. O, my dear boys--for it is you es­ pecially for whom I am writing this^ story--no matter how big you get». on how busy you become, or how manly you fancy yott are growing, don't ever get too big, or too busy, or too manly,, to be in love with your mother! She who loves you as no other womani even can; she who would gladly die a thou» sand deaths fqr you--O never, so.long as you live, turn her out of the first place in your heart. Never so long as you live let there be a time when* the slightest attention even'--the qfiick offering of an arm pr the stooping to save a step--you will, prefer anuihhento her. • , 1 don't mean to moralise to you or preach to you very much in. this story, but I can't help saying this.. For I know too well how surely will come a time when you will thank me- few it. You do not think very much, about it now, as you go about the house with hearts singing and feet that keep time to the homo-music. And when, the day comes for you to go out from the home- life, you will ru* lightly down the steps and ride away scarcely turning for a last look at the losing mother who stands there in .hs dcG»™Siy, ™ith eyes that fill so fast they can scarcely follow you as you go. And when you come back at Christmas, or Easter, or at midsummer, though you may notice perhaps that some little change has taken place in your absence--the .dear mother-face has grown thinner, the step slower, or, maybe, the gray hairs have become more frequent--yet still you will laugh and turn away and for­ get; until some time--late I trust, but surely sooner or later--there will come a change which you will not laugh away or forget. Some time, tofi&n you are far away, perhaps at schoof, or eol- legef or in a distant city--while you study or sport or cjarouse--there will come tidn^gs and a summons, 1^ ex­ pected, tbal will kill tbe laugh upon your lips IN tm instant AND sum TOW Joy dead. And, then, when you have Irairied home again, andr standing once more by the hearth that can never again bs as it once has been, you begin to reklize as yoa oannot at Srst, how ve^diflfer- ent everything is and how empty and tlesoHte home and the world and î fe it- 8e*V| with that presence that * has- wade it all so beautiful gone out of it' forever; when you stand, later still, be- ii#e that sacred mound in the church- yaina and weep such hot tears ap,,boys- ana men do weep over thfeir mothers' graves then it is that every little care,, any thoughtfulness and attention that yon have paid her, and all the larger sacrifices you have made for her saker will eo*« back to you like ministering! sjwnt»r and bring you a comfort and » consolation that you cannot now under- stond -r just as the remem branceof etery sorrow you have caused her will be very- OliBCFr And i! these words I am saying will only make you think of this now, and if the thought shall make you in any way more careful and considerate ana affeetrienale now, to the mother whom I am swe you love very much, I shall be glad, indeed, that I have said them; and sometime you will be glad, too, however dull and prosy you may think them now. And ae for your-mother's picture, boys (j»r I want to say a word about tfliat, too);, never go away from , her without it. Keep it by you always; not m your trunk or drawer, but on your bureau, or wall, or shelf, where you n«.n see-it constantly, and where it cq,n see you. "Kout will lead truer lives for it, believe me. For it is in the privacy of our own chambers, perhaps, that we think our meanest thoughts and do; our meanest acts; and you will hardly care to think or act unworthily with those eye» following you about the room. Wide-Awake. . « - Hft VI " * " * • Ashamed to Tell •* I WOULD be ashamed to tell mntk er,"' was a little boy's reply to his com­ rades, who were trying to tempt him to • do wrong. "Bwt you need not tell her; no one will know anything about it." " I would know all about it myself, and I'd feel mighty mean if I couldn't tell mother." " It's a pity you wasn't a girl. The idea of a.boy running and telling his- mother every little thing!" "You may laugh if you want to," said the noble boy, "but I've made up- my mind never, as long as I live, to do anything I would be ashamed to tell, my mother." Noble - resolve, and which will [make almost any life true and useful. Let it be the rule of every boy and girl to do nothing of which they would be ashamed to tell their mother. A Orand Rascal. They have got hold of are l̂̂ knd rascal in Boston. His name is Ply­ mouth White--called "Plin" White for convenience. This man has led a career of swindling and wholesale rob­ bery all over the States and Territories for over, twenty-five years, and now that he is safely in a Boston jail, his victims everywhere are hunting him up • and identifying him and resolving to pursue him till death. Aaoong other victims are three wives., This man's good looks caught the women, and his oily tongue and business fluency the men. And all these years " Plin" has lived in grand style, traveled much-- often to keep out of the way of his hunters--and says that he has " barrels of money" now with which to help himself out of jail and take a fresh start in his career of malefactions. : All the favor he asks is that, his ," wives shall let up on him," and not tell half they know. But one of them says there is n® "letup" in her. He was first maiiied to a rich farmer's daughter of Saratoga, N. Y., in the year 1854. . He fot $50,000 out of her father and ro-ther at once. They found he had swindled them by misrepresentations. Tbe brother committed suicide on this account. The wife, after much misery, bought a pistol, loaded it, and gave him warning that she intended to kill him if/ he aid not behave himself better, lie paid no attention to her, and she shot at him twice and misled. This; jftoded her communication with him. jWith another wife he went West. He next swindled a Denver, Col,,, firm out of $80,000, and a member of the firm became so depressed about it that he committed suicide. The ether mem­ ber of the firm died soon after by poi­ son. He sent, a daughter by wife No* 2: to Europe to receive her education.. She is now about fifteen years old.. Whenever his victims got too hot-on his track,- he was in the liabit of gbing to Europe to look after his daughter's education. In this way he is said to have crossed the ocean sixteen times.. He married a third wife a short time ago, and No. S is said to be living in New York. She has not yet come for­ ward as a witness. He is said to have swindled ope merchant in Sh. Paul,. Minn., out of $100,000* another out of $9,000, and numerous smaller swindles are laid to his door. In<1862 lie talked; a Mr. Locke Winchester, of New York, out $111,000. " Plpn" White's 'suc­ cesses were in winning women and get­ ting money withoutjan equivalent. The number of his wives- and the size of his piles of captured money proclaim him a grand rascal. His boasted "bar­ rels of money" left may not bay his. freedom, even if; his wives "let up" on him, pr testify tiat he is one of tke best ANH PUREST NIGII; SLIVS. W|FP NAV I had to work days-work for bor living for many yeaas. Nos. 2 and 3 appear to have bcei\ better provided for. At any rate, they are not so fierce in their denunciation)of "Plin" Wi»ite. White appears to be at the endnf a busy, life -Missouri Republican. --TL vB are only 300 shades of blue, We £QmettiDesfeel as t hough there were twice as many.--Tartar's foils £- porter.