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Imndralft J. WM (Uric. CMtor and Publsnsr ILLINOIS IOVE'8 IN WB CALEND when chinks In April's windy dome Ijet through a day of Jmip," And foot and thought ine>in<*d to roslSk, And every sound's a tunc ; , "When nature fills a fuller cup, } And hides with green the pray,-- . Then, lover, pluck your courage up ; To try your fate in May. Though proud she was as sunset clad In Autumn's fruity shades, Love too is proud and brings (gay lad I) Humility to maids. Scorn not from nature's mood to lean,, Hr Take connsel of the day; ' ,• x1' Since haughty skies to tender tnrn Oo try your fate in May. V Though cold she seemed as pearly light Adown December eves, And stern as night when March winds anite ,V „ The ln>eeh's lingering leavi t; Yet Ix>ve hath seasons like the year. And grave will tuni to Rav,-- 1 Then, lover, listen not to fear, But try your fate in May. And you whose art it is to hidfe v The constant love you feel; Beware, jest overmuch of prills . Your happiness shall Steal. No longer pout, for May is her® And hearts will have their trstjr; Love's in the calendar, my dear, So yield to fate in May. ~iBobert Underwood Johnson, in the Cfmtmnr. - •§4. mw- V. 1 I, C FLORENCE'S ADVENTURE. f-'-'-r1'-w » rz^ox. . :y *Tfcettrest, l am afraid you are dull here with only your grandfather and myself to keep you company." said Mrs. Danvers to her niece, a girl of 18. "What will you do this stormy after­ noon--no oallers, the piano out of tune, and your grandfather laid up with gout?" It waa a somewhat dreary prospect for a young girl used to a large family and lively house, and Florence Dan­ vers had been feeling rather as if she had wandered into a forgotten corner of the world; but now her grandmoth­ er's question roused her, and she tried to answer cheerfully. •- "Oh, granny dear, don't mind me; : t rm all right; it is very kind of you to be troubled with me while the children gat over their scarlatina; it is a pity it looks so gray out of doors, but it does not rain, and I think I will just take a race and see what the sea is like; it will freshen me up, and then I will \ oame in and do my letter writing." "Don't go far, my dear," "said Mrs. Danvers, "for it is hardly fit for you, the ^ Hind is to high." 13ut Florence was ont of the room before the old lady's sentence was fin­ ished, and in another two minutes was making her way to the cliffs, lier bead bent down, and. her cloak held tightly round her in a fierce contest with the wind. - At first her thoughts were rather gloomy. "Another month down here'? How can I survive it? If only mother had let me visit at the Leighs instead; I would not mind if I was (loins; any one a&y good," sfte said to herself, "but the old folkB are quite happy together without me, and, in fact, it rather wor­ ries them to have to amuse me. There ; I could have had masters, and gone on : With mjr music, or indeed I would far rather have stayed at home; I am not afraid of the fever, and I could have •at up with little Laura, now nurse is . ao worn out. But here one seems to do no good with one's life; I have only to eat and drink, and take a walk and CO to bed." And Florence heaved a deep sigh. She had been reading a good deal lately upon the idle, useless lives girls often lead, and she was in a hurry, now that she was released from the school­ room, to try and do better, to be very Useful in this world, and then, just to spoil it all, as she thought, came this banishment to Saudhim, her grand­ father's place. Nothing to do indoors • or out She could not help wondering why God had allowed her to be sent there when He ki«ew how anxious she was to do some good in the world. So ahe wandered on till she felt chilly, and mended her pace. By and by, for •something to do,she bent her steps to- ward the cottage of an old woman who lived at the Point, as the place was called, where the cliffs took an abrupt • ^ftvrn westward. Bridget More was bedridden, and al- liays glad for some one to chat with. This time, however, Florence was •mazed and distressed to find the usu­ ally cheerful Irish woman sobbing most bitterly over a scrap of paper which •he pushed into Florence's hand as she entered, being unable to speak. It Contained a few lines from the surgeon ; the infirmary in the nearest town. "Your son, Robert More, has been brought here suffering from concussion ?; of the brain, having fallen off the cliffs near the town." "Cheer up Bridget," said Florence, I:^ifcheerfully, "it may not be so sad. My titlier fell off his horse last year and ad concussion of the brain, but he got , WelL I will ask my grandfather to •end to the infirmary to ask after Rob- <#rt But how shall you manage with- Out him ? "Who will attend to you now ? iou must have a little girl from the ; " ̂ And Florence began to wonder who jfould be found to wait on the old wo- 1# But Bridget tried to stop her sobs Awhile she said: / " I t i s n ' t Robert frets me, Miss Dan- • •t-ers; I do not so mueh mind that--the > lad's had many a crack on the head • afore now, but it's the light, miss. He ought to be here to see to it, and I ^ 4um't stir to do it," and she sobbed, and ^J$"rept afresh. Robert, the old woman's son, had i'-V'isharge of the lighthouse, which stood i.'-bn a rock easily reached at low water. v jpis duties were very simple, consisting v.' merely of supplying the light with oil. - IfpThst morning he had chanced to break iK!|he vessel containing the reserve oil, #:'.'|knd had gone to town in quest of more When he had met with his accident On the cottage table stood the broken |»% |ar with a small remnant of oil in the bottom. I "He said the light would run down Jto-night(" sobbed the poor woman, "and ' '*this bad weather there'll be vessels on S ' * the rock afore morning, and my Robert '? ^will have to bear the blame, and he pick in bed." "Isn't there enough oil thereto run ^ the light till morning?" asked Flor- ence, pointing to the jar. &•:§ "Ay, sure; but never a soul has been f ^ - near me since the bit of a child dropped ; 1'the notes and ran off, and me tied to - any bed like a log." "Let me fetch a man from the vil- /^lage," said Florenoe. s™ " But the old woman shook her head H "The time woulcfe't serve," she said, E • > "this west wind, if a body ran straight |j ' for their lives, they couldn't only just it- get there and back before the tide $p " comes in." • • "I will go," said Florenoe, "there is ,time for that} I know all about it; Robert showed me how to put the oil into the lamp the day grandfather and I went over there;*' and she took the pitcher in her band. "The key, Bridget. Ah, I see it;" and before the old woman could get out the blessings, fears, and warnings, which quickly fol­ lowed another, Florence had left the cottage, carefully guarding the oil-can. The path wound down the cliff, then skirted its base, and finally passed along the ridge of rock running some fifty yards out to sea. This last was very slippery, as it was covered with water at high tide. Florence went bravely on, however, only once stopping to gain breath, when the wind caught her hat and blew it far away. She did not attempt to recover it, for she alrealy heard the roar of the advancing tide and saw the white breakers approaching far too near the lighthouse. As quick as she could she pressed on. At last she reached the tower, unlocked the door and made her way tip the steep stairs. As she said, she perfectly un­ derstood the simple process of feeding the lamp, and hor work was soon done. When she left the lighthouse, lock­ ing the door behind her, her heart felt ten times lighter than it had done an hour before, though a sense of shame came over her at the remember an ce of her late discontent "I almost reproached God for sending ing me to Sardham," she thought, "and He had this work for me to do. How wicked, how foolish I was!" But Florence had little time for re­ flecting on her past conduct ; she was very unpleasantly called to the pres­ ent by a dash of spray in her face and a rush of water at her feet; the tide had so advanced that every now and then a wave leaped over the ridge she was passing along. Evidently there was no time to be lost. She tried to hasten on, but the wind battling with her cloak sadly re­ tarded her, and her loosened hair blew wildly across her face. She pushed bravely forward, though now ankle deep in water, cheering herself with the thought that when she got on the level beach she could get on faster. She would then, too, be further re­ moved, she thought, from the boiling waters which seethed angrily around this rocky ridge and stunned* her with their noises. Snddenly a dreadful mist seemed to dim her eyes--she turned deadly pale --could thiB yard's width of sand bp all the footing left her ? Had the tide come in so quickly as to swallow up the rest of the beach? It was too true, and before the terri­ fied girl had staggered on a few paces homeward an angry wave dashed over her, almost throwing her against the rocks. She cast a despairing glance upward, but the cliff in that part was too steep for human foot. She felt al­ most paralyzed with fear. Though she tried to cry for help she could form no sound. Another and another wave struck her. Just then some voice in the distance seemed to cry, "Back! turn back!" and she had just sense enough left to follow the direction. With difficulty she made her way back to the ridge, which, being a little high­ er than the beach, still gave a footing. There just gs self-possession was failing her she felt herself seized by a man's arm and dragged hastily through what seemed a sea of boilincr water toward the cliff, farthest from the point There the strip of beaoh was a little wider, and for a second she wonld have stayed to gain breath; but the man urged her on, telling her there was not a second to loose. "We must make for the old pier," he said hoarsely. Florence struggled on, and at times saved only from bej; away by her stronger compal: strength was fast ebbing »V hope again deserted her, blessed sight of the old pier eyes. She made a violent effort, half dragged by her companion, clun to one of the wet seaweed-Hung tim­ bers. "There's naught for us but to climb this," said the man, "hold tight, while I go first and drag thee after." How Florenoe ever managed to follow her guide, and how Bhe reached the crazy pier above, she never could tell. "Saved at last, and thank God for it," said the man who helped her. But Florence had no strength even to say ameD. Not for some days was she able to tell her tale to her terrified relatives. They had taken her on the evening of her adventure, wet and half senseless, without cloak or hat, from the arms of the man who had rescued her, and who described how he had seen the danger­ ous position of the girl on the beach as he was walking on the cliff above, and instantly made the best of his way to­ ward her. Fortunately he knew the ground, and knew that he could get down the cliffs near the old pier. Robert More, when he came to his senses the day after the accident, begged so earnestly that some one should be sent to look after the light­ house and his bedridden mother, that a trusty person was dispatched for the purpose. Old Bridget was discovered half- starved (no one having been near her since Florence's hasty visit the after­ noon before), but quite contented sir.ee the lighthouse had sent its beams into her cottage window all night. Nothing will ever persuade Bridget that Miss Florence is not the greatest heroine that ever trod the earth, and despite much headshaking over the dangers their darling had passed through, Mr. and Mrs. Danvers are of the same opinion. Florenoe sees now that no place is too dull or too small to do good in, whether it be the tiny mat­ ter of teaching a child to read, or the greater one of securing the safety of ships laden with men's lives. There is always work to be had for the earnest laborer. Good works are not a matter of time and place, but will.--Philadel­ phia Call. CMipa t Moonlight, and love, and magnolia tr*es; A bare, my house oa a lonely hill; A river below, with the sweep otaata; And an air of stillness, so strangely still-- k> still of trouble or strife < X-ho&rd my So still of troubla or strife oratirl r heart as it beatCoThar. XL Bar lovsr and ahe and the cypress trea: And If Alone by the blaJk lagoon-- A place of ghoata and of mysteries- Lake lilies ujthald to the loveless moon; The darkness Blain by the sword of day And under the cyprfeSs trees hidden away. V-V". jn. Jto wondrous hair! Her eyes were as large An torch-lost deer's, that reeding In moss. And seeing the light iu the huntsman's barge, Iiifta up its head and comes wading acroes, Wide-eyed and daeed, and reaches its head-- 4 Opting and reaching--and so, shot dead I w;-i. IV. •TSie eyvress (a as secret aa death," said I, And Death, ho is dearer to me than gold." So the cypress woods and the wavo hard by Have many and many a secret to hold-- For why did "she turn to the wood and the wave And look and look as in dead love's grave? --Joe Q. Stiller, in the Current. • Striving lor the Unattainable. Two colored belles, one of them very dark and the other very light, were re­ counting their recent conquests: "Ah, Miss Peters," signed the dark complexioned lady, "I wish de gud Lor' had made me as light complected as yo' is. Ise a'mos' ushamed ob myse'f some­ time when in the glitterin' ball-room ter think what a inviduous procontrast da is 'tween a white dress an' black face. Ise 'most tempted to take ahsenio fo' my complexshun." "Don* yo' go for to take no ahsenic," replied the other lady solemnly; "yo* complexshun am jess what it should be, Miss Johnson. I tells yo' it ain't de whites' face what hides" de mos' joy- uous heart. When I looks in de glass an' seeB de crinklum ha'r, an' de fiatu- ous nose, an' de yallar teeth, I reelizes dat Ise nuffin' but a cullud pussun after all. De whiter yo' is, de whiter yo' wants ter be. Yo'se dissatisfied cos yo' ain't yallar like me, an' Ise dissatisfied cos Ise yaller 'stead o' white. Dis world am full of dissatisfiedness. But don' yo' go fer to take ahsenic fo' yo' complexshun, Miss Johnson."--Bro&li- lyti Union. 5 THE SEARCH FOR ROGER HALE BJ Virginia ff. Johnson, Author of Image of San Donate," PART FIRST. ONE OF THREE. f k is the month of June, 1884, Hie law office of Milliken, Frost & Co, situated on a noisy thoroughfare of the city of New York, presented its usual aspect. Three heads bent over three desks, while three pens scratched diligently at the respective tasks. Mr. Hiram Milliken emerged from the private rooms of the firm, paused in the middle space of the office, twirl­ ing the gold seals which depended over his white waist-coat, and looked at the owners of the heads ruminatingly. The pens paused, and three pair of eyes regarded the great man iU re­ spectful interrogation, for Mr. Milliken, a lawyer of fine reputation, large con­ nection, and ample fortune, was a very great personage, indeed, in the estima­ tion of his clerks. Some communica­ tion of importance was about to be made, for the stranger, who had been received an hour before, was visible through the open door engaged in earnest conversation with Mr. Frost and Mr. Whitney. "As sure as you are alive something is up with old Fudge," whispered Harry Fayall to his comrades of the desk. Old Fudge was the nickname be­ stowed by the facetious youth on his senior, who, unconscious of the imperti­ nence, continued to scan the group be­ fore him. "Would either of you like to seareh for a missing man?" inquired Mr. Milliken. "Yes, sir," replied John Leggat, promptly. "Expenses paid?" echoed Richard Marshall, a prudent and dry young man, whose sandy hair hung straight and limp about his face, and whose thin lips closed like the valves of certain sea-shells. "Expenses paid, and $1,000 for your trouble, if you find him," continued Mr. Milliken. "I will find him," said John Leggat, wiping his pen and restoring it to the rack. "WhoiB he? Why is he want­ ed?" The lawyer regarded him with marked satisfaction. Courage and energy of purpose were' perceptible in the youth with the keen, gray eye, hand­ some features and curling, black hair. John possessed the tru6 legal passion for tracing results to causes. Here was an opening. One of three. Prudent Richard Marshall bethought him of the heiress he was wooing at a suburban FesoH. and hesitated between the bird in the hand and one on the wing. Harry Fayall was reluctant to give up a fortnight of camping in the Adiron­ dack Mountains, John Leggat must go. He received his instructions in the private room. The missing man was an artist--Roger Hale by name. His brother had recently died in his native town in Central New York, leav­ ing a considerable property to be di­ vided between two sisters and the ab­ sent Roger. No settlement could be made of sales until the artist gave his consent He had been last seen at Nice, but as a correspondent Mr. Hale left much to be desired. "I will find him," reiterated John Leggat. "I shall sail on the next steamer, if they put me in the coal bunk. I wonder what Katy will think of it," he added, as he sought the abode of his fiancee, on the very wings of hope. The search for Roger Hale meant such a start in life as the marriage of these young people, otherwise definite­ ly deferred. Katy White liyed with her brother on the fifth floor of an apart* ment building, where the increasing heat and the improbability of a country holiday had aroused the imagination of the children. Tommy had made a train of cars of chairs, in one corner, while Molly, seated majestically on a table, announced she was on board the steam­ boat, bound for Newport, and Bob im­ agined himself to be on the Long Branch shore, with the aid of a wooden shovel and a toy pail full of shells. "I mean to live in the country when I am married," announced Katy, who was as sensible as she was pretty, dimpled, and rosy. "I hate the country," retorted her sister-in-law, a pale blonde, with a fashion magazine open on her knee. John Leggat entered, was welcomed shrilly by the children, and imparted the news that he was to seek Roger Hale. Katy wept at.d trembled, then became sufficiently calm to listen to his projects. "Make your wedding dress, darling," he whispered joyfully. Next day he sailed for Europe. IL--A WILL-O'-THF.- WI.SP. When Jonn Leggat reached Nice, traveling from Paris without stopping, he learned that Roger Hale h.a^ been in that brilliant <*ity, but had gone on toward Italy, sketching along the shore. The information gleaned was some­ what vague when analyzed. Every­ body knew Roger Hale, but no one was precise as to dates respecting his move­ ments. The term used was that he was generally around somewhere and very good fellow. John departed along the shore, in turn, undeterred by fierce heat and the sinister rumor that cholera had ai> peared at Toulon and Marseilles. H< searched every town, hamlet, and inlet of a picturesque coast until checked by the frontier and the land quarantine which had been established on that sultry July day. Oh, joy! must not Roger Hale have been caught at this point, like a fish in a net? Is there nothing new under the sun? Ventimiglia, the familiar gateway to Italy, associated in the traveler's mind with the 5-franc bribe of .unmolested trunks, and the shaking out of ball dresses in search of imaginary cigars for the conscientious tourist who with holds the coin, presented to John Leg­ gat a most unusual aspect. Harassed eartymg bttn l, whiie heap* reaitoed seattered <Mes of msrehan about ' "The land (juarantine ia established," •aid an Englishman at hie elbow. "It's only a matter<o| fiTe days; but it would have been a good job to havs got through yeateraay." The fertile plain of Piau di Letts* blooming with,, olive and vineyard, re­ sort of the richer inhabitants of Venti­ miglia in the autumn, had been con­ verted into a lazaretto, with such nice distinctions in the. social grade as the lodging of John Leggat in a villa, to be served by caterers from San Remo, while those frightened fugitives of the third class, the operatives from Toulon and Marseilles, were sheltered be­ neath tents Snd fed by the bounty of their government. The hills guarding the spot, crowned by convent and ehapel and merging to the snow-cap- d Maritime Alps in the distance, ced down on the strange scene of courage, bravado, misery in the im­ prisonment of this human tide of cap­ tives. Roger Hale was not here. His pursuer was the fish oaught in the net of delay. The Englishman, belonging to the commercial class known as a traveler, possessed a florid complexion and white eyelashes. His raiment of plaid eloth, pinkish-yellow in hue, gave him an odd resemblance to a caterpillar. A Frenchman, with white gaiters, gray moustache, and a round glass inserted in one eye, mocked at the quarantine, the Italian soldiery, the confusion of the railway station, more by a veiled cynicism1 than mere indiscretion of speech. He diverted a group of cadets by humming tiie latest Parisian song on the refrain of the Microbe. The German savant inspected water sources and made notes. A Spaniard and a Portugese, silent, dry and yellow of visage, smoked cigarettes. Officers clanked their sabers jauntily, while the soldiers remained taciturn, prepared for a campaign without glory, yet. as heroic as battle. The summer night fell softly. John' Leggat could not sleesp. ' The vigilant watched. He opened the door. A Sis­ ter of Charity glided along the corri­ dor, followed by two assistants bearing fresh linen. She paused and addressed John in English. Rumor affirmed that a• great lady was among the -first at Ventimiglia; tho secret Of her mission Unknown. The days passed slowly. The pris­ oners wrote letters; John to Katy, the Frenchman to a Paris editor, the cadets to oomrades of the college, with carica­ tures of the German savant on the margin. Time was alone precious to the latter, and the pages gathered thickly beneath his pen as he traced the researches of the Greek Inspector Kook, Hippocrates, in remote ages, as equally applicable to the present time. Books and journals acquired a value calculated to inspire authors to fresh effort for such ends. Occasionally the locomotive whistle, announcing fresh arrivals, made first-comers exchange a glance. On the third day the Sister of Charity ceased to glide through the corridors of the villa. The Frenchman paced the terrace all night, the English- sipped brandy and water, the Spaniard and the Portugese quarreled over cards, the cadets, waxing reckless, drank seltzer water on a wager, and feasted at the cafe. Next morning the cadets and the German disappeared. All mention of'timg^was avoided. The others shoviflfl^^HH^Jyes on the ter­ race and ate^BB^mblic display of appetite. At noon the German reap­ peared and drank a bottle of beer with lis breakfast. John and the English­ man shook hands with him in silence. The fifth night came. The American listened to the moaning of the sea and watched the sWift 4&rfcQess of the storm as rain hissed through the gorges of the hills and vivid sheets of light­ ning illuminated the olive groves, where the branches writhed like souls in pain. In the blotting shadow of the gardens, and above the tumult of the tempest, brooded a great fear. "I could not stand > it another day," exclaimed John. With the rising sun came release. The Frenchman gath­ ered a rose for his buttonhole; the En­ glishman strapped his bag. In the tents those sons of toil, the laborers, who wait for hire in the world's mar­ ket-places, prepared to move on. Poor Gennaro, of Naples, and Beppo, from the Lucca Hills, onoe more gathered up their bundles, while Piedmontese Amadeo had laid down the burden for­ ever on the threshold. Fertile Piau di Latfe, made a pris­ oner between purple hills and blue sea, where "Life, like a dome of many-colored glass ' " Stains the white radiance of eternity." In the train the Englishman said to John Leggat: "The Sister of Charity will be given the place of honor in the cemetery. Yes; the cadet's was a fdl- minating case, of course." I wonder if Roger Hale still lives?" thought John. r?1 » • • ' ' • Hi.--IN CLOSE PCBSUIT. Escaping from the land quarantine John Leggat ha&tene^ to Genoa, where he learned that Roger Hale was in Milan. At Milan he was told the artist had sought the Turin Exhibition. He took the next train for Turin, but failed to find the missing heir in the Medieval Castle or the Kermess Fair. The hotel secretary was absolutely sure the ob­ ject of inquiry had returned to Venice. Launching letters and telegrams, like a shower of arrows, in all directions, John turned his face toward the Adri­ atic. A fresh perplexity awaited him. "Venice gained, he lost trace of Roger Hale altogether. What had become of him? Piqued,.he sought banker, con­ sul, hotels, and lodgings in vain. A lady at the table d'hote stated that a party of artists had gone to Titian's country ten days before, and. Roger Hale was of the number. The lady changed countenance slightly when she learned that the American had sped af­ ter the artists. "1 am almost sure that was ope of the names," she. mused, "or was it Smith?" The artists cheered Jphn. Roger was to join them later, and if the law­ yer remained in their midst or hung about Venice, Hale was sure to turn up. The chief authority recalled, all in sketching a flight of steps, that Hale had sought Florence, to copy a head of Titian's in the Ritti Gallery. John journeyed to Florence, discovered a can­ vas on which a woman's faoe was out­ lined, and learned that Roger Hale had left for Leghorn some weeks be­ fore. At Leghorn the artist was said to have gone to Sardinia with an Ital­ ian. A merchant promised to telegraph to a certain person at Rome for more accurate information. John waited, fumed with impatience, fast verging to exasperation. The artist, ever within rpach, perpetually eluded him. How easy it had seemed to find him! John began to tear Roger Hale was a myth --a will-o'-tho-wisp. Leghorn swirmod with life; froupa tif girts gathered about tbe femttains; thesair waa redolent of hoAioil/ftisziing on the domestic altar of supperiu nar­ row atreets. A funeral prooession ps--sd along a quay, theeendi** of the penitents flaring; a black priaon-van, guarded by royal oarbiaecM, wearing cocked hits, crept behind the four-in- hand ef a Greek banker. The sun set beyoild the tranquil Mediterranean in ia fiery disk, dyeing the waves crimson •and gdkl. John strolled about the gardens of the shore, and sought one of the piers. On the right the serrated peaks of the Carrara Mountaina sloped to the brink of the Spezian Gulf. All about him the people laughed and talked in a babel of tongues. A Sicil­ ian princess, with narrow, Spanish face, enveloped in opalescent draperies like the sea at sun-set, drank ooffee at the next table. A piquant beauty, clad in maize-colored satin, claimed the homage of a bevy of cavaliers. One by one little boats, wreathed with swaying lanterns, became detached from shore and flitted over the water to* cluster about a yacht, gemmed with lights in an arch of green fire. A Venetian fete was transpiring, with song and revelry. Suddenly a word, an exclamation, a cry wrought swift change to the fairy spec­ tacle. The beauty held a telegram in her rigid hand, the Princess had started to her feet--the very waiters paused to look and listen. The cholera had reached and stricken Bpezia. The eyee of adjacent towns turned to the boun­ dary of mountain in dread of the awful moment when the pestilence should wing its noiseless and fatal way onward to strike them as welt Panic ensued. The lights went out, and the multitude surged inland to join the fugitives of Spezia at Risa in a tumult of frenzied haste. The Princess journeyed, en­ throned on her own luggage in the bag­ gage van, rather than be left behind. At this auspicious moment John learned that Roger Hale was gprtainly at Naples. "Let him stay there, then," bp cried wrath fully. ' IV.--SAVED FROM THE MOB. Roger Hale had an idea. When he had an idea he invariably put it into execution. Was he not his own mas­ ter? His visit to Sardinia had been brief; and gaining Rome by Civita-Vec- chia, he was meditating a return when the idea dawned upon him. A few hours of leisure decided him to write to his relatives in America. He bought some postage stamps at a tobacconist's, which the woman wrapped up in a bit of newspaper. Outside, in the shadow of a temple wall, the artist removed the paper, and consigned the stamps to his vest pocket. "They will think I've died of cholera long ago," he mused, in dutiful ajlusion to his anxious sisters. His quick eye noted a paragraph on the morsal of paper, in which the Queen expressed sorrow for the misfortunes of Naples, the smiling Parthenope, seated -on her incomparal )le bay. "I have it 1" exclaimed Roger Hale. "The Siren Parthenope was there cast ashore, and Neapolis was the city of Campania, built on the Sinus Carter." He took the next train southward. A votary at the shrine of beauty, absorbed in his art, the elusive ideal of perfec­ tion now fitted before him on rainbow wings toward the Vesuvian Gulf. He had done nothing. Parthenope should redeem his years of idleness and live on canvas, a vision of loveliness, combin­ ing the golden tones of Tatian, with the redundant coloring of Rubens and the charm of Hans Makart or Cabanal. He was called color mad by liis fellow a r t i s t s . , . -- , Roger Hale Vas it short and stout man, with flowing /jbeard, ngse tuming up at the tip, antPopair of hazel eyes, seeing everything their owner wished to discern, and further shaded by a felt hat, which had lost all shape in hand usage, now^~seir*ing as-a pillow and again protecting the owner s head^rom sun and rain. He took his chances as they came, and life was a's glorious to him as to Ernest Ren an. Hence the charm of the Siren Parthenope, a study signifying light, warmth, a goddess bathed in a luminous atmosphere, with shadow of ilex, palm, and orange groves cast athwart her draperies, and the peaks of Vesuvius and Monte St Angelo in the background. The vis­ ion intoxicated him as he, passed by the ancient Via Latina through the Campagn* Felice, snd thence onward to Naples. He pressed forward eagerly to the goal. Modern competition did not dis­ may,: but oh! he must learn if ancient art had traced on marble and fresco'of temple and bath the image he sought He gained the museum, ob­ livious to outward event, going and coming in the cool halls, enriched with Pompeiian urn, candelabra, bronze, the light gleaming on crystal and gem, Roman empresses gazing down cyni­ cally on iEreid and Venus. The artist found a stick of chocolate in his pocket, and ate it while studying the figures of a sarcophagus. He would have worked on had the custodians dropped about him, for the town was already plague- stricken. Artists have wrought thus in siege and famine. Naples, spent with fierce summer heat, stung by sud­ den storms, oharged with hail, ener­ vated by tropical showers arousing siokly emanations from the soul, must keep the festa of the Riedegrotta, with jingle of tambazza, snapping of castag- nettes, and the partaking of red pep­ pers, fried in oil, macaroni, rizza, salad, and fruit How to live without the red tomato sauce? How to banish the fig, ripening in luscious abundance for the good of man, nourishment of the Roman athlete ? The city, pouting at municipal authority, had stretched forth her hand and plucked the fruit When Roger Hale gained the town and hastened to the museum, a cry had arisen in the crowded streets, where the idler paused, staggered, fell, while his comrades fled. Roger Hale emerged on thorough­ fares rapidly thinning of frequenters, and closing shops. He had come hither to seek a siren, basking on gold­ en sands, and found tho charnel- house. The doom of fear was written on all faces. Death met him on every side, wrapped in scanty rags in the hovel and scaling the palace alike. Old age shriveled before it; the warm cur­ rent of the youth was stilled. The pop­ ulation surged, like a restless tide, dazed, frantic, or fleeing before the thunderbolt falling in their midst, as the citizens of Pompeii once fled from the lava torrent After revelry came repentance. How to analyse the cause more calmly 'than did the leeches of the Middle Ages, when the plague slew 20.000 in a day in thesa streets. The contagion- had leaped from the black alleys of the Mercato to the Pendino, Vicar ia, and San Cario, as a vast con­ flagration spreads fanned by the wind. The artist looked about him incredulous­ ly. Night was filled with rumors, fit­ ful dreams, stifled cries, and the rumb­ ling of heavy carts. Day found the town bagged- The King was coming, but before him was the archbishop. Saints, proceesions, miracles msgbtsave from doctors and witches. A Madonna had bowed to % worshiper in her church. Roger Hale decided to return to Rome by the next train. Ho went out into the sireeta. A procession hemmed him against a wall; girls, old men, children swept past with a startled rush of fefet and rags. A boy fell for­ ward on his knees, the old water ven­ der at the corner threw up her arms, ns if stricken by an invisible missile. Beyond a crowd of gamblers fell into an ecstacy because the lucky numbers had turned up for Naples in the lottery. A bane of youths begged alms of the artist, who waved them off and return­ ed to his hotel. How wretched and somber was the scene. Rain fell heav­ ily, and the wind, cold as November, agitated the sea, hurling back noxious vapors at the town. Neapolitan malice circumvented Roger Hale. The boys prepared the crowd for him. "See I The foreigner come3 this way. He is the wizard, the poisoner, who brought the pest to Naples. He scat­ ters a powder from his pocket on the air, in the salt, on our food. He helps the accursed doctors with his spells." . The idle listened, the turbulent paused and scowled. As the artist passed the altar improvised before a long-concealed shrike of San Gennaro, and the door of the adjacent pork butcher, the latter sprang out and seized him by the collar. "I will teach you, wretch, to tamper with my wares so that nobody will buy them,1 shouted the butcher. The art­ ist believed his hour had come, and the infuriated man was about to kill him for some imaginary wrong. To expos­ tulate would pe to add fuel to the flames. More than onoe a complete limpness of deibqanor had saved him from serious 4iSftstfer. Suddenly the butcher snatched up the sausage cake on the bench, "brushed by the stranger's sleeve, thrust the delicacy into his hand, and hissed: "Eat it or I will strangle you!" "Willingly,"said Roger Hale. "Your sausage is excellent." The butcher growled; the crowd watched to see the foreigner drop dead; a girl laughed; an old woman croaked, "He can eat it, but another would die." The mirth changed to'groans and cries. A chorus of female voices 'ex­ pressed a desire to have the skin of Roger Hal a Two guards attempted to force their way to his rescue. The artist flung the sausage into the butch­ er's face, and with an agile bound cleared the space behind the altar, gained the corner and vaulted into a carriage. He was saved. The ocoupants of the vehicle made way for him, too much astonished for words. "Lord! That butcher nearly did for me," "You speak English?" demanded the new-comer. "Have you met Roger Hale at Naples?" Rapid explanations ensued. John Leggat has just arrived. The artist learned of his brother's death with con­ trition. He confessed that he did not always read his sister's letters quite through and seldom responded. The two men actually forgot their sur­ roundings for the moment. The King, accompanied bv his broth­ er, was approaching the royal palace, the carriage breasting a human wave of clamorous subjects as far as eye could reach. Years before the soldier Victor Emanuel, in his shooting-coat, Irom San Rossore had undertaken the same heroic pilgrimage. Roger Hale doffed his hat v "That's the real article, you know," quoth the artist; "I don't care much about kings, but when I meet a man braver than I am I take off my hat to him." In the railway carriage Roger Hale said, musingly: "The picturevmust be Parthenope desolate, a Niobe sjveepin g for lrer slain children, a Sibyl oVrtiiving the griefs of a stricken world/7ln the background Cassamiccioly^Couples to ruin in the shadow of Kpooleo, while at Partlie- nope's feet lieiTa dead child, crowned wi h flowers, the summer of 1884." In the month of October Katy White glanced up through her falling tears to behold John Leggat standing in the doorway. He had his arm linked through that of a short man, as if fear­ ing to lose him. "My darling Katy," exclaimed John triumphantly, "let me introduce you to Mr. Roger Hale."--Chicago Inter Ocean. ' His Father Taught Him. Complaint was brought to Colonel Fizzletop that his boy Johnny had at­ tacked and beaten a much smaller boy than himself. The Colonel took John­ ny aside, and had a private conversa­ tion with him, in which joint discussion a strap played an important part. 'I'll teach you to strike a smaller boy than yourself." "That's so," sobbed Johnny, "that's just what you are doing." "What do you mean, you young scamp ?" shouted the enraged parent. "I mean, pa, you taught me to whip little boys. You are bigger than I am, and you have been whipping me ever since I can remember, so I thought it was all right for me to whip boys littler than myself."--Texas Sif tings. The Peasant Wbo Was Short en Wheat. A Peasant who was short on wheat for May delivery, and found ruin star­ ing him in the face, betook himself to the cave of a philosopher and said: "Oh, wise man, I am half a million bushels of wheat short on May delivery. I came to ask help of the gods through you." "Know ye, my friend," replied the old man as he scratched his chilblains in the softest manner, "that the gods render aid only when the lawyers have given up the case.* The next morning the peasant was in Canada. Moral: And his lawyer settled all claims for 40 cents on the $1Detroit Press. The Logical View or It. "Mamma," inquired Bobby, "do good little boys go to Heaven ?" , "Yes, dear," "And bad little boy* to the bad place?" "Yes." "I'm a good little boy, ain't I ?" "Sometimes, Bobby, and sometimes you are quite a bad little boy." Bobby thought for a moment, and said: "Then I s'pose I'll have to spend part of the time in one plaoe and part of tho time in the other."--New York Times. How MANY in hot pursuit have hast­ ened to the goal of wealth, but have lost, aq they ran, those apples of gold --the mind, and the power to enjoy it WHERE there is no Christian Sabbath there is no Christian morality; and , without this free institutions can not j long be sustained.--McLean. - Ano^S^ ̂SFFÎ hen^ who delighta tecall hin&fc Vliberrf. There are liberals mid liberals, and some of them are the moat whole- souled, unpreauming, generduA noble­ men in existtm«B, bTrt- thlr lrhii *ve»y He liberal crank usually volunteers the information. You'd never imagine there was anything liberal about him unless he tola you. He is intrusive in his belief. No matter what company he may be in he airs his peculiar doc­ trines. One man may mention as aa historical fact that the Jews lived in Judea, or Pontius Pilate was a Roman office-holder. Instantly Mr. Liberal breaks in and informs you that tHat ia all bible fiction, and that he is aston­ ished that any mwtfitherafrstrBf ad­ vanced thoughtr-oh. how he Wefithat phrase-can rbad ^h i tisstfe oFlies. Another may innocently intimate that he thinks Mr. Beecher and Mr. Spur- geon &re very eloquent ipeakers, whett to his surprise Mr. Liberal bristles up and says that he is happy to say that he has not been inside a church for so many years, and could not be hired to go, that all preachers are arrant hum­ bugs and only after the money they can get out of it, And then he launches ofl into a fulsome eulogy of Mr. R G. In- gersoll whom he pays his dollar un- whimperingly, to listen to, and never inquiries into what charity the modem apostle of liberalism turns his hard- earned shekels. i ' i j The liberal crank is the most illiberal' of liberals. ̂ He is a canting hater cil cant, an idol-Worshiping iconoclast He dilates for hours on the bigotry and intolerance of sects, and exhibits the most intense intolerance for all who do not accept his peculiar broad-gauge theories. He claims the absolute right to condemn, malign and insult all de­ nominations, but becomes righteously indignant if his own crowd are in the slightest ipanner impugned. He pro­ fesses with loud flourish of trumpet to march under the banner of "Universal Mental Liberty,"' but if any poor church member claims the same privi­ lege, and his idea bf liberty does not happen to coincide with Mr. Liberal'*, he is stigmatized as a hypocrite, a priest-ridden fool, a time-serving, pan­ dering deceiver. Ho professes to defy* reason, but thinks that all men must reason through his quill or be wronjf. He abhors superstitions of the day. He stigmatizes supernaturalism as folly; and is a faithful devotee at the shrine of modern spiritualism. His great hold however is science. Oh, what a luscious morsel is science as he glibly rolls it over his tongue. He rolls up the hon­ ored names of Huxley, Tyndall, Spencer and others with great gusto, and triumphantly tells you they have disposed of tho whole question, but on inquiry it will be found that his knowledge of anything pertaining to these men, except their namrs, is ex­ tremely meagre. He has glanced over some elementary science primeT, and thinks he knows it all, and what he don't know ain't worth knowing. He boastfully tells you he is an agnostic, and then proceeds to Bhow you that he knows everything. He likes to inform you that he believes so and so with H:nckel, but ask him to point out when Htjeckel says it, and he is at a loss. He al ways saddles his puerile driveling! on some great name. His idea of lib* erty is not the freedom to worship God according to the conscience, but a pro­ hibition of the worship of any kind whatever. The crusades this clique get up are not to disseminate truth, but in their own language to "demol* ish the whole religious fabric and crush out every seed of theology, priestcraft, and superstition." Another watchword is humanity,. Oh* how he deifies humanity. He quotes "the proper study of mankind is man.* He tells you that man is the noblest ol all conceivable or possible evolutions, and then proceeds to prove that the human species are all a pack of idiotio fools and imbeciles or they would never be so credulous as the only humanity that is absolutely perfect is exemplified in his own person. He is a disgrace to the cause he re* presents, unstable as water, veered about by every wind of prejudice and passion, and the greatest obstaole in the path of true liberalism.--"Doak," in Arkansaw Traveler. - • - • •• A Dessertation on "Lye."" = A little knot of choice spirits Vere assembled in the back parlor of the gas office, listening to a narrative of wild and thrilling western adventure from the lips of Mr. Curry Combs, the vivacious and truthful collector of the company. "Well, it Was just as I was telling you," continued Curryi "I was driving along from Livingstone to Miles City in a two-horse buggy and was having an elegant trip. Weather lovely, game plenty, and roads good. But on the third day out, just at dusk I noticed a little marshy spot ahead, but thought nothing of it. Pretty soon I heard the splashing of the horses feet in water, but it didn't seem to be deep and I kept on. Then it seemed to me that the horses weren't as tall as they had been and I wondered if they were sink­ ing, but no, their motion was free and unimpeded and the water wasn't over three inches deep. Then I noticed that the buggy was getting pretty close to the ground. All of a sudden it oc­ curred to me what had happened. I had driven into an alkali overflow and .the lye was so strong that it had eaten 'off about two feet of the horses legs and eaten the tires and felloes from the buggy wheels, and they were running on the end of the spokes. In a minute more we struck a deep place. The horses went in up to tneir necks and the buggy was afloat. In another second the horses and buggy were dis­ integrated and mingled with the alkali water and I was left swimming alone. Then my clothes commenced to drop off, and when I reached the shore X hadn't a rag left on me." "Why didn't the lye eat yon too?" asked an interested listener. "Oh, I'm proof against lye in any form," replied the veracious Mr. Combe as he shifted his quid and led the way to a neighboring b*x.--8t. Paul H e r a l d . • & . Expensive Silent*. * An Austin sporting character visited another Texas city not long since and to his surprise found all the gambling places in full blast, whereas formerly they had been suppressed. "The wheels of justice do not appear to creak as loud as they did last time 2 was here," remarked the Austin man to the party who was dealing. "That's so; but we had to grease them like the mischief to prevent thein from making a noise," was the reply.-- Texas Siftings. A BIRD-FANCIER in New York say* that not less than 69,000 canaries are sold there every year, realizing at least $100,000. The trade in other birds brings the gross sale up to $250,000. *