iV TfllfrirtThf iivil ' w* > oar «ki; f c t t t o t t e t ' rniMHiii o'sr rrtie'tkroofbthe•oat "oneyearagfc WheM islh* ftos we loved to greet} The fane On* cmoed our flre*tde --' unlit, the The HMOs sulle, the wtontait yay, TitafcfttoMiff o«r HI* path day byi "Wh-* OpdtfceM MoMf.,HAu4 That thrilled oar heart® "ooe year ago? Ah! vacant Is the fireside cha'r. The emtio that won. n >' longer there; iTrom door and hall, from porch and tall The echo of that voc° is stone; " And we who linger only know Bowinnch WM lost "one year ago. 7 Fe*ide Ma grave the marble white ' k Keen**ttoat gaardiby day and n ti( SereH he sleeps, nor h 'rti the trem Of footrtepa o er his lowly bed: H.b pglwlna breast no more unv kcf*W The pangs qt life "one year ago." ̂ ̂ Bnt why repine? A few moreyearil w e b r o k e n i 1 -- " " ' • •toy: l low. ato?" • #Z"0. A few more "broken s'ghs and tear*, And we, enlisted with the dead, s, f ? Shall follow where his steps have lefU , To that far world rejoicing go i;•/•••'; T« which he phased one rear ago.*- j, ̂ Mr*. John i[. Uonvxtv. ^ n0A THE PIAJIO KlXT DOOHv 4.' ' fthey have got a piano next door-- ' >*" Anew one, I think, by the sonnd-- 1? -• i banjo, a tin shop, a Hardware stare, -line firing, a howitzer's roar, i keg c" spikes spilled on the groMd! Pitkeaba l picket-With a ft he daughter is learning to play. And she rasa up and down on the up and down on tbe wak-- her feet, one is tempted to f-ay. nth patent brass be l̂s keeping time on the way ̂While she drags the honse-cat by the tail! iliike Death, all season* are hers, S And she practices dav and night; ' She is up in the morning before the boose atirs, p.nd she rambles and rattles and bants and 'oi: whtrra. Till we groan la oar dreams wi'h fright! •^Veaek, Is it "Upright," or "Bqnanv < Ot "Grand," thns to torture onr ears? Her notes are protested now • verywhere; Her "touch,* like an It Indian's, wilt raise men's Method" calls forth her '"touch, i hair, And her ' %he have got "the piano" next door; , "M Why don't they hang out the red flag? lo hoase-hnnter*, seeing, may skip the bore, fn ftnd qniet places where they may $nore, With no mnaic their aouls to fag! •••*•;***• ... - -- ̂ : ; *• .V 'o. • ' rOBtonrAul BY W. V. K .» "Do you really mean it, Irene ft . • --{ "J most certainly do." s* au there is left for me to say m, good-byeand the speaker turned *nd left the apartment, his footsteps "t ere heard a moment in the hall, the outer door opened and closed, and ,• Irene Convers knew her lover and husband, Howard Merton, gone with no intention of ever re- • i/. ^ : \r' \ f A * P< *- •} r-- These two had been schoolmates and Intimate friends from their earliest rec ollection ; which intimacy had resulted an engagement while they were yet their teens. Their parents were of the intimacy and rather en couraged it, and when the engagement Was announced had sanctioned it with lUaerity, as the match seemed in every IrtrdedraU* and fitting. «„ The Mertons were a wealthy and itiriocaUe family, with only the one ; t||on and heir, who, it was* expected, feretald soon enter into a business part- -v Unship with his fattier, under the firm 4kame of "Merton & Son." The busi- M&M was -that of importing, and was . considered by Merton senior as a grade ÎXwve common mercantile business and * ^ptite in keeping with the rank which his ancestors held in the old country. Mr. Convers, though no less wealthy than ̂V|UB aristocratic neighbor, had more Ti democratic ideas in regard to business, rd was engaged in the iron business. A short fame prior to the opening of story, Mr. Merton, Sr., who, by the ay, was not averse to# making » close ' in business transactions, had in- heavily in a certain line of goods, id, contrary to his usual custom, had the whole consignment to be by the same steamer. The time for the passage from Havre 4o New York elapsed, but no news from Ipe steamship. Two weeks of painfnl iWsponne followed, and then the worst Sears were realized; the steamer had Irarned at sea, and, though the human >|reaght had escaped the flames, the •eargo was entirely consumed. To the Ifartong the disaster meant ruin, for '^llmost their entire fortune had been invested, and there was no insurance, .fortunately their liabilities were not large, so that l>y closing up business #ad dispoiing of all his real estate ex- ' the dwelling-house, Mr. Merton paid his creditors every dollar, but it jfefl him withottt a business and with no l^qrital to start again. Howard at first :||lid not consider the loss of any serious . putter so long as they had been able to >y every obligation, and was on the it of offering his services as book- eeper to Mr. Convers, who was in ineed of one, when, calling at their house lone evening, he thought he detected a fchange in Irene's manner toward him, ;and, as usual on such occasions, insisted V .^'upon an explanation. ""*1 "There is no change in me. Mr. Merton; you are over-sensitive," said %; Irene. t "Mr. Merton! How long since I have risen to the dignity of Mr. when you .i, are addressing me. Irene?" ' asked & Howard. "7 "We are not children any longer," said Irene, ignoring his question. "No, we are not children now, but you will always be Irene to be; but, by the way, I came over to see your father on business that may be iateeeetiog to you." • -V * ; " r " f" • "What is "I came to offer hum my services as "book-keeper in place of Dawson, who is going away. How would suph an arrangement as that suit you, Irene?" "It would not suit me at all, unless you wish to break our engagement, for I would never marry one of my father's employes." "But, Irene " remonstrated Howard, "the position would bring me nearer you, and the remuneration would en able us to open a house of our own so much sooner." "I am not BO anxious to open a house on a clerk's salary; besides, Mr. Mer ton, I have been thinking it would be much better to defer our housekeeping ir. - - * sigh of rtilii. She had frmmiiK and had fortified herself for it, (ally determined to break with Howard at all feaftard, lor she had laid to herself a hundred times that she never would become the idle of a poor aan. It tMsome days before h«r parents learned of the estrangement between her and her lover, and then only by learn ing tKat Howard had left Barrisburg for the far West, that vast "terra in cognita" that may mean so many dif ferent places. "Irene," said her mother, "why did you not tell us that Howard?was going away?" , • , t- : . . "Going away? Where?" >-Vj, , "He has gone West." ^ "I was not aware of his intention to ge anywhere," said Irene. "What! Didn't he tell yon? Have you quarreled?" "No, we have not quarreled, but I thought that it was very unwise for us to think of beginning life together upon a clerk's salary, and he thought other wise, and so we parted." "I ana very sorry, Irene, if anything has come between you and Howard. We have known him all his life, and he is a noble-minded, exemplary young man, and one that any girl ought to be proud to call her affianced husband. I am very, very sorry," "Mother, I know Howard is an ex emplary young man, and all that; bqt he cannot support a wife, and to be tied down to the life of a servant is what I most abhor. He could not give me a home like this, or one-half so good, and I have no ambition to test my ability to live, as Dio Lewis says, on a dime a day." "Well. Irene, you must make your own'decision in this matter," said her mother, who was surprised at this mer cenary phase of her daughter's charac ter, "but I cannot help believing that you have made a great mistake, and one you will sincerely regret." The matter was dropped here, and never again alluded to in Irene's pres ence, though her father and mother often discussed the subject, her father applauding and her mother condeming her course. Straight home from liis last inter view with Irene went Howard Merton. "Father, I am going West." "Going West, Howard? Where to?" I don't know yet. Irene has broken our engagement, and I have no desire to remain in a place that will so con stantly remind me of my happy antici pations and the death of my hopes. "Irene false to my son! Then, thank God, you have found it out in time, for if she would fail you in such a time she is not the true woman I would have my son to marry." "Father, don't say one word against Irene. I love her whatever she mat do." Well Howard, the whole world is be fore you, but an empty purse to carry you through it. I can do nothing for you here. My earnest wishes for your prosperity aid happiness and a" few hundred dollars are all I have to offer vv TOanapa During *11 r wasted a • :/fS arrangements indefinitely, owing to your changed circumstances." "Do you wish to break our engage ment, Irene?" "It might be better for both of us not to be trammeled by an indefinitely long engagement, and in view of your having to seek some employment, I think it .would be best." Howard was astounded. If there was one thing in the world he had re lied upon during all the trying ordeal •of settling up the affairs of his father it was the conviction that Irene would sympathize with him and encourage him in the rugged path which he must follow,to carve out a future for Him -self, and now to be thus coolly thrown over solely because his expected wealth had vanished. It was too much, and "I will accept only enough money to carry me to some point in the far west, where I can commence life at the bot tom of the ladder, unhindered by any might have beens that would forever haunt me here." And he went. The vast west had swallowed him up, and no one save Ins parents knew of his whereabouts. For a few months he wrote encour aging letters from the mining camp at Leadville, whither he b&d first gone; then he drifted into Utah and further on to Nevada. At one time he was thinking of joining a party of prospect ors on a trip to Arizona; then his let ters suddenly ceased, and for two months nothing was heard from him. Mr. Merton. Sr., had never recovered his wonted vigor after his failure, and within a short time after Howard's let ters ceased he was stricken with apo plexy and died, his wife following him within a week. Every effort was made by friends to trace the wanderer in or der to convey to him the melancholy tidings, but unavailing, so the estate was settled up by an administrator, and after the total liabilities were liquidated the sum of $4,000 remain in his hands for the missing heir. During all this period Howard was with a prospecting party in the wildest part of the mountain regions of Ari zona, where communication with the outside world was an impossibility. Two months later the party emerged from the wilderness and reached a little mining camp that had just been estab lished in the southern range of moun tains in Nevada. Here Howard wrote a long letter home, but before sending it out by the weekly pony carrier, he chanced to see his own name in one of the San Francisco papers that was brought to the camp. He hastily read the article. It was an Associated Press report, stating that "the bankrupt im porter, Merton, of Harrisburg," was dead, and his wife had survived him but a few days. Also, that the son was somewhere in the west, but no one knew where. • The shock was almost overwhelming. He bitterly regretted the hasty de cision that had induced him to leave home and become a wanderer while his parents were in such urgent need of his strong young manhood to buov them up amid the breakers of life. Tiie first bitter disappointment ©f jiis life was losing some of its poigntifecy, and he had more than once found himself won dering how tolerable he could have made life by remaining at home, and, though unconfessod to himself, he was longing for a sight of the fair false face of Irene, for it seemed as if it would be some consolation to be near her even though she were false to him. A few days spent in brooding over the past, and then his usual buoyant nature asserted itself, and he began to form plans for his future. The country around the camp seemed to offer good inducements to the miners, and be An ally resolved to go to mining with the rest and the course of events to shape his future life. Among the party of prospectors with which he had been' associated was a man, who had from the first conceived a strong liking for him, and as they be came better acquainted the attraction became mutual. It must have been the dissimilarity of their characters that caused the attraction, for never were two men more unlike, and yet quiet,un assuming Howard Merton was a fast friend to rollicking, quarrelsome, drink ing Barney McBride. To this friend Howard unfolded his past life most fully, and'was somewhat cheered by the genuine, heartfelt sympathy which'Bar- ney expressed. "I'll tell ye, Merton, me friend, we'll jine hands and open a claim here. The other boys are all go- in' in and we'll be as apt to strike it rich as any of 'em, besides work is what ye need aow. When the heart is .sick tut tbe fwo in st*k* «ii*» s*£ * oabm DoUt, and the in earnest. ly wasted a thought npon>HowaMlIî ton, and when tbe season opened she was among the first to join the numlfe* of pleasure seekers who yearly congre gate at the various summer resorts along the seashore, to recreate, spend money, make love, and act in a very foolish, therefore a very human, man ner. Irene went in company with a well-known family, and therefore her parents were well satisfied to have her go, for Mr. Convers and his family rarely ever took a pleasure trip togeth er. • During Irene's first week at Newport she was introduced to a very distin guished looking gentleman iron the South, who rejoiced in the historic name of Moultrie, and who had during i tbe late war earned the title of Coloael. To Irene's imagination Col. Moultrie was the embodiment of all that is noble and chivalric in human nature, and die fell desperately in love in love with him at once. Of course it was not the proper thing for a vOung lady to do, but she really could not help it. It must not be inferred that she made a declaration then and there, or that she even gave the gallant Colonel the remotest hint that his company was very agreeable, for she did nothing of the kind. However, it was not long un til the Colonel had discovered that the bright little brunette had more attrac tion for him th* n any other woman at the hotel at which they were staying, and he proceeded forthwith to make himself as agreeable as possible. When two people are intent on being agreeable to each other they generally have remarkably good success, and in this £&se there was no exception to the rule. We will not follow them through the pleasures of a two months campaign at a fashionable watering-place, but at the end of that time they were engaged, and, as engaged young ladies are decid edly not the fashion in such a place, Irene and her lover decided to return borne. Col. Moultrie accompanied the party to Harrisburg, where he was in troduced to Irene's parents, and accept ed into the family with unanimous cor diality, as his credentials wefre of the best, and he was possessed of a hand some fortune in the Turpentine State. So far the course of true love had been very smooth, but there were breakers ahead, and our lovers were'destined to meet with a grevous disappointment. A few days after Irene's return home there was a rumor on the street that Convers & Co. were in a very shaky condition, and later the rumor was con firmed by the discovery that Mr. Con vers' partner had converted a large amount of company paper into cash and vanished. The papers of course pub lished the whole matter with the usual comment and exaggerations, and for a few days it seemed as if the firm was totally bankrupt. The gallant Colonel had at first scouted the rumors, then as they were confirmed, professed to be lieve it would not seriously embarrass his prospective father-in-law, but as the days rolled by and the reports of ruin and disaster became more and more de cided, he took the alarm, and in a very prettily written note to Irene, regretted his inability to remain longer, but an with suppressed indignation he asked [ give the hands work to do and the urgent business engagement called him immediately home. Would she excuse him from calling, as it was imperative that he catch the next train for Baltimore. And he went. Two months after Irene saw his name among the list of passengers of an Eu ropean steamer outward bound, when she realized for the first time that Col. Moultrie was not only false to her but an imposter. How she received the blow, or with what forge she recovered herself it, is not necessary to relate; but that she did fully recover herself none who saw her could doubt. The ruin that at one time seemed im minent to Mr. Convers, by skillful and judicious management was averted, and about that time a sudden rise in manu factured iron, of which he was carrying an immense stock, placed him abreast of his business, and lie was financially bet ter situated than before the panic. During the weeks that followed his resumption of business, for he had sus pended for a short time, Irene bad in sisted) upon helping her father in the office, and as he ready needed some one, he let her have her way. Her prin cipal work was looking over the mail and answering letters. One morning in running oveil the large quantity of mail brought in by the carrier, she found a letter addressed to herself, and hastened to open it, when out drop ped a crisp bank note, which she dis covered to be $50. She hastily scan ned the note which accompanied the money. It simply said: "Use theenclos ed money, as it is yours." The note was unsigned and undated. Turning to the envelope she sought to find from where the letter came, but the post-mark was so blurred that it was illegible. There was absolutely nothing to indicate from where or whom the letter was sent. The only thing tangible about it was the $50. The letter was discussed that evening at home, but none of the fam ily could imagine any clue to the mat ter. Time passed on, and at the begin ning of the next month another letter was received, similar to the first, con taining another $50 bill. But still no clue to the sender. Regularly once a month those letters came for eight months, each time with tbe money en closed and the post-mark obliterated. But one came at last upon which the post-mark was partly legible, and Irene set herself to work to study it out. With tbe aid of a postoffiee directory she made out that the place was either Gold Spring or Cold • Spring. Now as one of those plaees was in Missouri and the other in Montana, it was difficult to determine whichym* the right name, if either were. When she told her father tbe result he jumped to his feet. "Irene, I have it. That money comes from James Fuller, my old partner. He thinks no doubt we are bankrupt, and he is sending conscience money back." "But which place is he, father?" "Undoubtedly Gold Spring, as I know be went to the far west." "I wish we were certain which place and who it is." "Well, Irene, 111 tell yoa how we can be certain," said Mr. Convers. "I am going out on the Northern Pacific next month, and I will stop ngar that point and make inquiries." "Oh, father, take me along; I never went anywhere with you in my life. "I don't care if you do go, my deaT, you have been a great helper to me during the past year and I suspect you need a little recreation to help to cheer you up and entirely cure you of that disappointment last season." "Don't ever mention that*to me, fath er. I am entirely cured now, i£ I ever needed any cure; and by the sparkle in tnilitoililiii Of her x«e»«iitt &£»»' WFND»*R. 'COB go*»ts asmallhoM a» a very new town •astim iMrder of Montana. Htre they learned th«t'Gold Spring was * mining oamp about forty miles into «tlw mountains somewhere on Turtle Creek, but that a stage ran over twice a "Shall we go, Irene?" asked her fath er. "Yes, let us; the stage-ride will be an adventure." So they engaged a pas sage in the stage for the next day, and, after a tiresome twelve hours' ride the lumbering old ooach rode into the rude mining camp of Gold Spring. A night's rest, however, made them forget tbe previons day's fatigue, and early in the day Mr. Convere, accompanied by his daughter, called at the postoffiee, a rude log cabin that answered the pur pose of dwelling, postoffiee and store. The postmaster was a rough but kind ly mountaineer, whose face put on a comical look when Mr. Convers.pre sented the last envelope received with the $60 enclosed and asked him if thr/t was his postmark. "By jiminy, pard, I reckon you've hit it an' no mistake. I made that ar' mjyrk a leetle too plain." "Do you know the writer?" .. "You bet I do. He's the squarest chap in this here camp." >• ; ' "Where can I find him ?" "Look here, pard, beg pardon, but if you mean him any harm ye can't find out from me where he is." "I mean no harm to him. I believe he is an old partner of mine, and I have come here out of curiosity to find if it is so." The postmaster seemed satisfied for he at once volunteered to show them tho way. "Thar is his shack whar ye see the big tree by the creek; I reckon I needn't go eny furder." "Thank vou," said Mr. Convers, "we can see the cabin, and can easily go there." For some strange unaccountable reas on Irene dreaded to go, but would not stay behind. She was in a tumult of excitement without in the least under standing why she should l>e so. When they had got near the cabin, she insisted that they should walk very quietly and make no noise whatever. At last they stood in front of the door. The cabin had no window in front, or on the side from which they had approached so that the inmates, if there were any, were totally unaware of their presence. Mr. Convers was about to rap on the door, when a warning sign from Irene arrested his hand. There were voices within, and Irene grew deathly faint at the sound of one of them. "I say, pard, said one voice, "I think this is a leetle to rough for yon to work like a pack mule here and .send every dollar ye make to them as don't care whether you are dead or alive ." "It don't make any difference to me, Mac," said the other voice, "whether she cares or not if I am dead or alive. I love that little girl. I love her yet, and if I ean help in any way to bear her burdens it is all I ask. It was hard enough for her when her father lost his property, and the little I can do will but ~ ; slightly compensate the loss." Bight ye are, "pard, if ye love her, cause if I loved «al it any difference ifjnp thr ?r if she v ivnraj £F C", wouldn't make th rowed me over. I'd stand by her IF she was in trouble." "Well, here goes," continued he. "The little lady won't fall in love with my fist on the envelope. Irene Con vers, that's a purty name, pard, but it 'ud sound better to Barney McBride's ears if it was Irene Merton now." Irene grasped her father's arm and pulled him away. "Back to the hotel, quick, father," said she, and there were tears in her voice. Mr. Convers turned with her, when she suddenly 5gf>p- Her face was deathly pale, out voice was firm when she said, "Father, do you know that voice?" "Certainly, dear," answered he. Father, shall I follow tbe promptings of my inmost soul, and speak to him." Yes, my daughter, if you wish." Irene turned and stepped swiftly to the door; a light tap, and the voices ceased. "Come in," said one of them. She tapped again. Barney came and opened the door. "Beg yer pardon, Miss," said he; but Irene did not heed him; she scarcely saw him,for, standing within the cabin, not six feet from her, was Howard Merton. Howard! Howard!" she cried. Mid staggered rather than walked, aa she stepped within. "Irene!" was all he could say. She shopped and looked at him, her soul in her eyes. "Is it true. Howard? 1 overheard you at the door. Is it true?" He comprehended her; he made a quick step forward, and caught her to his breast. "Yes, it is true, my love, my Irene," and he kissed her lips again and again, unmindful of Barney, who stood with open mouth and eyes, utterly at a loss to comprehend matters. "Oh, my dear! my dear! to think I never knew it, I never knew it"" "Knew what, Bene?" returning to his old pet name. "That I loved you all the time, all the time, Howard." "Bedad," said Barnv, "I smell a large sized mouse; be jimtuinyl think there's a mob in this cabin, and I'll go up town instanter." Stepping outside he met Mr. Convers, to whom he spoke, and in a moment Barney understood the whole storv. Why need we tell mora. It is the same the world over, where two bright young lives blend in perfect harmony. Love comes to all once, and happy are they who are permitted to realize their fondest-hopes and win and ecjoy their loves. • It is superfluous to add that Howard i gave up his mining enterprises, which •itul leid him from mountain-range to valley, until he bad met again what to him was "better than gold." Within a few days the party returned to the line of tbe railroad, and there bidding his laithfnl friend Barnev good-bye, Howard, with Irene and her father, was rapidly whirled across the States to their old home. Papa didn't find his partner," said Irene, a few weeks afterward, "but 1 found mine," with a glance at her hus band, who was entertaining her father with a description of the country he had traversed. As ber eyes rested upon his face her lips softly murmured-- Th re'H many a love in the land my lore, But never 11< ve lik* this ia; Then bury m° deep in yoar heart my love, Aril cover me up with klsaea. Oaretaia Battta «* P--lall--a Origin and , f l r w w t f c e f H t p M m , "Yes, indepd, CMMMP in hand- liag'their vala«l>ies aad*e<rot4*ie* b»ve lost many men thtir foHtnn, remark ed a manager of one of the safety-de posit vaults. "It was only this morn ing that one of our depositors left a note for $8,000 lying upon a desk in one of the retiring-rooms, but we were fortunate enough to find the valuable paper and restore it to the owner be fore loss resulted. It would surprise you to see how thoughtless people are in leaving valuables lying around." "What kind of valuables are usually left by depositors ?"* "Well, all kinds; stocks and securi ties most frequently. Men come in here, take their bo«l£ to a retiring- room, and cut off their interest coupons. Not unfrequently they leave Bome of the bonds lying on the desk or floor. Men, as a rule, are more careless than ladies. If I should tell you the largest amount of bonds left in that way, the customer would be very mad. It would surprise you, too, for it ran away np in the thousands." "What class of people usually patron ize deposit vaults?" "All classes--bankers, professional men, and all others having valuables do not care to keep them at home. Ladies are patronizing them largely now. Many of them keep their jewelry in the vault. They are becoming our best customers, for one lady who is pleased with the system tells her friends about it, and then they come around. This is a good experience for them. It teaches them business habits. A great many poor people now keep their savings in deposit vaults. Some of them have had unpleasant experi ences with savings banks, and not car ing to resort to the dangerous primitive method of keeping their hoardings be tween the bed-ticks, they rent places at deposit vaults. Young men are also using the vaults as a means of saving money. I know a young man who l>e- gan saving in that way. The first year found him $800 ahead, instead of be hind, as usual. He acquired business habits in that way that have obtained him a position worth $5,000 a year." Safety-deposit vaults are of modern growth. Originally, valuables were kept at some secret place about the house, and it was not infreqent for per sons to conceal large sums of money or valuable papers in their beds. This led to frequent losses by fire, robbery, and other causes, to say nothing of those occasioned by the carelessness of the owners. It then became customary for .persons desiring greater security for their valuables to deposit tin boxes with their bankers, and soon bank vaults became overcrowded with them. This demand for depositories finally led jto the establishment of safety-deposit vaults. The first one constructed in this country was at New York about a quarter of a century ago. They are be ing organized all over the country, and are constructed with a special view to preventing loss by fire. The demand for them has materially inoreased since bankers began refusing to take such deposits, even bank presidents and di- retors making use of them. In some of them large quantities of coin and idle bank funds are kept. When people who are known to have valuables in their houses take to making use of them, burglaries and murders by house breakers may become less frequent, for the fact is well established that many crimes of this character are committed because the persons burglariously vis ited are believed to have articles of value concealed on their premises.-- Chicago News. "Bulls" and "Bears." The means used to "bull" and "boar," or raise and depress the prices of stocks, grain, provisions, etc., are innumerable, varying with the needs of the times, but influenced much more by the combina tions of capitalists and'brokers. The "bulls" magnify every circumstance fa vorable to the appreciation of the stocks they hold or have agreed to take at a given time, while those who have con tracted to deliver such stocks, or who for any reason wish to bny, do all in their power to depreciate them, and are therefore nicknamed "bears." Any one who has ever witnessed a bull and bear fight will not question the appro priateness of these terms aa^ipplied to the combatants in the exciting wars among the kings of tbe stock board. The bulls struggle to toss the stocks higher; the bears squeeze and tog to force the prices down. The former re sort to all kinds of expedients to in duce small holders to cling fast to Jheir stocks instead of putting them on the market. They persuade them by direct appeals, or by circulating encouraging reports, that these stocks- are bound to rise rapidly in value; and they often combine to buy up the stock of the few who persist in selling, so as to "corner" the market. Not content with fai^ means, they sometimes enter into com binations with one another, and employ third parties to buy and sell stories of the same description on 'Change, in such a way as to create the impression that there is a greater demand for them than there really is, when in fact the sales are never consumated, or merely amount to an exchange among them selves. Often, when neither the foreign nor home news was favorable to their purposes, false reports have been tele graphed through the country by inter ested parties, to affect the stock board. Similar methods are pursued on boards of trade. " IT sounds rather rough to speak of a girl winning a man's love. If she won it she must have been playing for it. VOLATILITY of words is carelessness in action. Words are the wings of ac tion.--Lavaler. ADyingBiver. A narrow stream of water thiSt mean ders through Blacksone valley, and is termed a river by the natives, lias a fall in a distance of eighteen miles of 145 feet. At one time it afforded splendid power to the numerous mills built ilong the banks, but now, notwithstand ing the river has the same precipitous loscent, its availability as a means of supplying power to the great manufac- tnries is a tiling of the past and is a natter entirely unthought of. All, or learly all, of the mills in Woonsocket ire provided with auxiliary steam power, the owners having learned, par- icularly by tbe extensive experience of lie past three year3, that even rivers •an run very nearly dry in the course of ime. At frequent intervals the bed ot he Blackstone river is plainly visible tn some places, in fact it is oftentimes exposed to view. It has been gradually trowing lowel for the ten years last >ast, and the meadows that in the old imos were at this season of the year mtirelv covered with water are as dry is pasture land to-day and quite suitable or house lots.. No water-power ma- liinery whatever has l>eeu put in the he new Nourse mill, although the fac- ory built contiguous to the stream. )ld settlers contemplate the rocks ly ing in the river bed, over which scarce ly a drop of water has fiowedfor "many * moon," and recall the days when the power to all tho mm* fai Manufacturers aMgr^MUrilrqoping >pwfe» p«*w«r eWW, jOmthe -nfller Jlfeough a nwH^llpilliitfty elame before it will.be diitiarded altogether. -- Providence Journal. * »» Mr. Wftfttfar. It is not only in reading tho «aM- tious effortsof demands are made upon Mr. WhittieT; innum erable request of other natorea crowd in upon him, such, for example, aa that of the clergyman who wished hk signa ture to a poem that he had himself composed, possibly less from vanity than to help-* good cause by the tmbli- city of an ettftbliahed nnmr' MHow ^at^Kwd with thy preaching ?" asked Mr. Whittier. That his co-oper ation should constantly be -sought in charities and that beggars should clamor at his heels lor all sums from a pittance to a competency, is a matter P* c°u*se; and owing to his belief in the duty of a citizen, he has been as eagerly beset by claimants for public office. We recall in this connection a striking exanmle of his kindness and large minded liberality. An ardent and unflinching peace Democrat, after the war, learned that the President would nominate him for an important position if he wished it; he decided not to let his name be. used, but in speaking of the subject to Mr. Summer, tho latter said, "A miracle occured in this affair. I received a telegram from Mr. Whit tier--" "That was a miracle," said tbe gen tleman, thinking only of the wonder of the poet's doing so practical and busi ness like a thing as to use the telegraph. "The miraculous thing about it," said Mr. Summer, "is that Whittier urges that if your name is sent in you should be confirmed." "I had rather have the telegram than the position," was the reply. Mr. Whittier had probably felt in the matter that the devotion of the person concerned to the ideal principles of democracy was something beyond the province of partisanship, and in the pure service of freedom. People come to him, also, in their grief and trouble, and to more than one tortured soul has he giyen peace. The story is told of a friend of his early days, in the time when religion held men by crueler bonds than now, who was pursued by the idea of the sin a- gainst the Holy JJhost, and felt him self doomed to damnation. "And so thee really thinks thee will goto hell?" said Mr. Whittier, after listening to the tale of torjnent. "Oh, I am sure of it," cried the suf ferer. "Does thee hate thy fellow-men?*' asked Mr. Whittier. "No, no," said his unhappy friend. "Don't thee hate God, then?" came the next question. "I love Him," was the answer, "what ever happens to me." "Don't thee hate God, who would send thee to hell, and let others, who thee knows have led worse lives, go to heaven?" "No. I am glad of every one that is saved, even if I am to be a castaway." "Now what does thee think the devil will do with the? How can he use the --one who loves the God that con demns him to torments, one who loves his fellow men, and would keep them out of the clutches of Satan--how can the devil employ thee ot endure thee?" For the first time in months the wretched man laughed with his old heartiness, and from that moment be gan to shake off his morbid terrors.-- Harriet Prescott Spofford in Harper's Magazine. The Bank of College Athletes. A Yale correspondent giviss these facts about the standing of men promi nent is college sports, so far as that college is concerned: "Taking up the list of those who received appointments at tho graduation in 1876,1 find the name of one base-ball man, four foot ball men, and one of the crew; also the winner of the four out of the five events of the spring athletic meeting. Among the composition prize men, two foot ball men and one of the crew. The Townsend prize in the law school was taken by a crew man. In 77 I find the valedictorian a football man, and the shortstop of the ball nine on the ap pointment list. In *78, on the appoint ment list is two base-ball and two foot ball men, while the recipient of the Scott prize is tbe right-fielder on the ball nine, and the first French prize is taken by a foot-ball man, two of the crew and the cox-twain, and in the same class the sophomore mathematical prize is taken by a foot-ball man. In '80 on the appointment l'st are three foot-ball men, one base-ball man, and one of the crew. In '81 on the appoint ment list are five foot-ball men, one base-ball man, and two of the crew, while the second man in the class is a foot-ball man, and one of the five Townsend men is also on the team. In *82 on the appointment list are four foot-ball, three base-ball, and two crew men; the winner of the junior exhibi tion prize is a foot-ball man and on the crew; the Scott prize man is a foot-ball man. Finally, in the last catalogue, I find the lacrosse cover-point dividing the Woolsley prize for the highest ex amination in the studies of the year with a foot-ball, half-back and a base ball man--the same man taking the mathematical prize and the first Berke ley, while a foot-ball man takes the Hurlburt scholarship and a second Berkeley. The Seott prize is taken by the President of the Hare and Hounds club, and I find two crew men, a cox- twain, and a base-ball player among the junior appointments. From a Proud Family* "Look a lieah, sah," indignantly ex claimed a colored gentleman, "does yer mean to call me a thief?" "Dat's whut I means." "An' why, sah? 'Splain yerse'f, ur take de rough consequence." " 'Case I seed yer when you stole a coat." "Well, dat's all right, bnt ef yer had'nter seed me I'd er whupped yer, sho'. Better be partie'lar how yer fools wid me, man, "case I comes from proud family.--Arkanaaw Traveler. COMMODORE BAIXBRIDGB and 315 of his men were captured by the Tripoli; tans in 1803 and remained prisoners for about nineteen months. His vessel struck on a rock near the shore and his capture was attended with no dishonor. WE are never so happy nor so un happy as we imagine. "Every one com plains of his memory; but no one ol his judgment.--Lo Rochefoucauld. AM anti-sawdust law keeps lumber men in seven Washington Territory counties from emptying, wiito into streams. HARD case--The turtle's. THE beau of Dinah--3--to, AN undesirable loin--A. c^elont. A BASH act --Catcfaittg the^MaMlee. TstE^bsy who alwajostays bp thaahî ' . VALUABLE notes of hand--Those OL^ Hie reporter. ^ IK leap year the girls are liable to jump at any chance.--The HoosUt. >•*<, Edison's lights are all right, but he ill ", suffering a little from his liver. He it a high 1 liver.-- The Booster. * ^ ; I* a great big man calls you a liai$ v *? treat him with contempt. Do not, how*( ,, ever, make your contempt too conspic uous. ?• IT would hardly do to speak of th#? " girl who has her dress caught in th||> door-jamb as the fast girl, and yet that'tf ' • just what she is. I HAVE a bright prospect before me, said the loafer. "You alwavs will have, remarked Fogg. "I don't think yo* a will ever catch up to it." ! ^ HE slipped quietly in at tho door/ ' but, catching sight of an inquiring faclaj f over the stair-rail, said: "Sorry it's , • late, my dear; couldn't get a car b©» fore." "So the cars were full, too,ft1. ( said the lady, and further remarks wer^s* unnecessary. < UNCLE GEORGE: "HOW do. Beliefs Got back again? Had a good time i<| r the country?" Belle: "Splendid, Fncl|« * George. I never had such a nice tim*; - n my life." Uncle George: "What di<| 'ou say his name was?" Wonder w" ' 7ncle George means, and wonder, why Belle blushes. FRIEND to artist: "I see the art con*#? SI mittee reject that picture of yours. ̂ . Artist: "Yes, and it's all because onfe of the members was prejudiced agaiosft me. But I'll get even, you bet." Friend : "I'll tell you how to get your revenge.* • • Artist: "How?" Friend: "Paint his portrait."-- Louisville Courier Jour nal. A LADY at a hotel, whose nnrulv chil- en annov everybody in the nouse, the other day said to a noted teacher, sitting near her at the table: "Pro fessor, do you believe in the use of tho rod in the management of children The Professor glared at her annoyinf children, and grimly replied: "Somt times, madam; but there are oases when I should prefer a revolver." "AH ! good morning. Going tochurc to-morrow?" "Church! Oh, yes; guess so. Who holds forth?" "Ol let's see. Miss Crescendo is to sing aria, Miss Pianissimo will warble a bi Bravura he is to hum on the tenor sidi^: and old Andante will come in some* where on the chorus. It will be up.® "But who preaches?" "That makes n|» difference. Some fellow who will touea np our transgressions mighty light." Cl^en Longfellow wrote: look down over the farms, . ; In the fields of green I see Tbe harvest that la to be. And I fling to the air my arms, For I know it is all for me, --The wtndmilf. ha had, probably, not made the ac quaintance of the grasshopper, armji worm, and weevil. It is a little sin lar that it did not occur to Longfello that some of the rye might find tto way into a gin mill.--Texas Sifting8. "You blamed scoundrel," said a d< feated candidate to one of his hencl men, "you played me foul and beat meJ "You're a liar, I didn't." "If you had used that money th# way I told you, I would have pulle4 through all right." "I did use it that way." "I say you didn't." ! « ; "Oh, come off the roof! Didn't yofc tell me to use my own judgment in put* ting it where it would do the most good?" "Of course I did." "And so did I I looked over tho field, and after a careful survey I con cluded that it would the most good in my pocket, so I put it there. Do yoa want to borrow a quarter?"--Merchant- Traveler. A CRIPPLED man entered {he dooir- yard of a sensible old fellow and askc for aid. "I am crippled and oannc work," he said, "and if you will onlj give me a few cents to get somet" ' to eat, I will ever remember you."" "I never turn a needy man away froitt my door," said the old fellow, shoving , , his hand down into his pocket. "How did you get crippled ?" "I was playing base-ball and --" "What! get out of this yard or Fjl cripple you a blame sight worsd;. Can't pick up a newspaper without^ . seeing something about your devilisK game. Go on away or one 'of theso days, when you are unable' to lift voufr hand, you'll look back to the slight ailment which now affeots yon and ray- . gard it by contrast as the happiest time of your ill-spent life."--ArJ^is^' Traveler. Hotel Head Beats. . The head waiter is the sentry the dining-room. Five minutes beforo the dinner a list of the guests of thi£ ; hotel is sent up stairs by the clerk. Oft • the list is the number of every room i|| ; the house with the name of the occur pant (if any) opposite. The beaj| waiter stands by the door and when % guest comes in he is asked quietly the number of his room. He gives it an& the waiter instantly sends him to a table. The man, if he thinks of it at all* supposes that the number of his room has something to do with his seat and passes on. The instant his baok is turned the head waiter consults his list, and if the room of the number given is vacant, or if is occupied by some on* known to the waiter, he goes at once to the man, and while deftly rearranging the napkin or placing the knives ana forks in neat rows, asks him seductively his name. If the name iulsto cle^p away the doubt the clerk ia sent fof» He may recognize the man. If he doos not an investigation is made, and if tt man is proved a fraud he is taken oi and handed over to the police.--Chfa c a g o H e r a l d . , . , . Revise the Dime Bierel. It is high time there was a boys' con vention to insist upon a reconstruction of the dime novel. The old-ttme-woiil article has had its day. It is not adapted to our modern civilization. Ii talks in an enticing way of gleaming pistols, and, as a result, the boy who buys a pistol is locked up "for carrying, deadly weapbns in violation of law; it thrills the blood with stories of wild redskins, but the boy who starts West in search of Indians can never get far enough to see one before he is over?, taken and ignominiously carried home. Every incident in the plot, in fact, is impossible of realization by any boy e* combination of bovs. --New York Sun. YOUTHFUL rashness skips like over the meshes of good --Shakspeare. " "v iim