Evening Star Newspaper, November 15, 1890, Page 7

—_— THE EVENING STAR:.WASHINGTON, D.C.. SATURDAY. 5, 1890— A PICNIC AND A PANIC, WRITTEN EXCLUSIVELY FOR THE EVESING STAR BY DAVID GRAHAM ADEE. / N THE GOOD old days of New Hampshire travel, not more than twenty-five years Jago, a time when it took from seven to nine hours, according to weather, to make ride from ( er Harbor, on Lake Wini- ogee, to North Conway. that protty nestling ¥ stoppage at the entrance to the moun- tains, and from fourteen to sixteen hours to eoach between the Perry House at Portiand and the North Conway Hotel, a varied drive over rolling conntry feventy miles or so, the last town to pass through on the journey being Fryburg, o1 boundary of Maine —in those good old days, as Ihave said, of six-horse h granite White E of New Hampshire, the summer season in North Conway was as gay and noisy as at any more fashionable and accessible Watering place within the whole Atlantic states. ‘Today things are changed. Two long lines -ailt run toand through the steady the fine, young, strapping stage te and steady at the plow in Place of galloping spiritedly, with three com- up hill and down dale with at least ht of passengers and Sturdy heels; the rud red-bes no longer cracks his whip or holds the reins, a dry-laud skipper, but follows bis horses afoot through field and furrow; and the rugged. half- gavage landscape, mottied by silvery stream and hoary hillock, with small rocky farms and whitewashed villages strewn here and there, is Bow ascore of shades more hizhly civilized, lished into mere commonplace, if possible, & the usual modern innovations incident to Progress, enterprise, and universal sameness, Soon, however, the soughing pine woods will dwindle and disappear before the steady march of energy. And nature, what says she etall, for her voice is soft aud low, to be heard among the solitudes of her own or rather reverently trodden, realms. loud advent of steel machinery, wood departs; with the brisk entry of mankind upon the awakened scene, wild life of the earth, air and water vanishes, save that which is of a ‘useful and remunerative kind, for before the tread of man all things are metamorphosed. North Conway may be called the gateway of the White mountains. It stands upon a plateau of sandy soil; below it and between it and the Moat range les adeep green intervale, irri- gated, park-like, by the flowing Saco, than which crystal is not clearer; back of it and above rest the Rattlesnakes, with broken ridges @utlined on the sky, while three miles off rises the mighty sentinel of the scene, old K sarge. to the height of 3.000 fcetim midair. The White Hills swing northward in a semi- eircle, their apex, twenty miles away, culminat- ing in Mount Washington. a grand granite Mass near 7,000 feet above the sea atop, a point where fall winds rage at the rate of ninety miles an hour and the snows lie clear and heavy most of the year, hence the name White Hills, for sailors sight the dazzling, icy, sunlit summits from the decks and mastheads of their ships while yet far out in the ocean. ‘There is an array of hotels in Conway now; but in the days of which I speak but two or three small taverns and as many boarding houses ready to grasp the summer travel were ail there were. And yet. in August of the year I mean, the village was full of guests to over- flowing. City fashion had deigned to don plain duck and calico for the nonce and disport liself with new-found rapture on river bank and mountain side, or among cool glades by water- falls, where mayhap no human footstep had fallen since the halcyon savagery of the Algon- quins—the aboriginal era of wigwam, bow and arrow, and feathers and buckskin. But society Was now full atilt among the whilom haunts of the red man, fishing. climbing, picnicking aud fiirting to its geuuine heart's content—more healthful pastimes, indeed, than others of our ies were then employed in at Saratoga or ewport either. The little primitive place, thus ruthlessly vandalized, fairly rolled itsopen eyes and held its sides with surprise and delight at the busy scene of life. Tho village was ac- cessible by means of stage coaches, whose ar- rival at nighttall, with their dainty froight of cits and citesses, was the engrossing excitement of the day. On the Sth day of August, 186-, we ring up the curtain for the play—a simple melodrama only. The hour is ¥ p.m. The sky is full of moon, the road of dust, the atmosphere of drouth, the hotels of heat, only the Saco river being empty in the summer heat, or nearly so. There are lights in every window behind flimsy curtains, amid a silence most significant. Where may be the guests, forsooth? Where? Why, in their chambers dressing for a fancy ball, to be given in the little pine-plank dining room and dancing hall of the hotel. The stages have not yet come in. The day's dry dust and hest have retarded their advent fully two hours veyoud the usual time. ‘be music-— iano, flute and fiddle— brought from Fryburg, tuning up with sweaty zeat and zeal inside, promising bravely. There isaclapping of hands, and, entering, we see jome benches ranged around the walls, the or- chestra at the head of the room under the old flag, which the flies have captured, and plenty of wreaths and blossoms from the meadow swung in festoons of marvelous taste and beauty. Middle-aged and elderly persons, bachelors in wigs and ladies, dowager or spin- ster, in caps and gowns, are on the benches chatting cheerfully, while little lads and lassies skip and seamper over the floor right merrily. hare heeds grim care? Is it not a summer rk? Loud hand claps greet the entree of the first maskers,a dainty couple, to be sure! Hay- makere! And yet such very genteel harvesters, in white and pink and bi well-fitting and becoming. Two more! Foresters! Liucoin green and graceful quivers, and bugle horns and uatty bonnets! Punch and Judy club, rag baby and all. Undine and Donald! A slight, graceful form, sinuous as an asp and light asa gazelle, a being of gauze and glitter—a posi- tive seanymph. And Donald has a good pair of caives fora Yankee Scot. Sprites, gipsies, Possents of no nationality in particular, In the dians, naval and military heroes, ao fat boy, clown, acrobat, an ancient Greek from Harvard, oarsman (Yale), Snegro or two (Cork). three witches from Macbeth, Tony Lumpkin, Rip Van Winkie, ehenseur’ a cheval, Hira. ‘Partington, thimble rigger, jockeys. flower girls, crusader, Neapoli- tans and other varieties of life too numerous or stereotyped to mention except in a summer tter. After the march a quadrille is danced to pop- ular minstrel a: Iu the midst of it all the Snapping of whips, rolling of wheels, shouting of voices and a general hurry-scurrying out- side is heard. announcing the simultaneous ar- rival of the Pordand and Center Harbor stages, crowded without and within. Many of the travelers straightway run up to the doors and windows of the ball room to look in smilingly m the maskers. Some of the youuger angers, girls in jaunty straws with bright rasols and neat little boots, and boys with tue and red ribbons ont heir hats and wild rose- buds in their button holes. the dudes of that day, press into the hail chirping and cbitter- ing wild smail ta delight at the lively dis- play enacting before the:r youthful, sparkling eyes and happy hearts, The squar. is ended and the round be- 7 eat the newcomers and tl dancers. Another sen- sation! A tall, slim young gentleman cooily lounges in through the throng at the door, Saunters with the most perfect aginabie among the w. deliberately seats himself in a window near the music. All eyes are fixed on him anda ral smile and Whisper goes around. Jove! Isn't he agile? He steers along one collisio! i isn't his get-up splendid? Look at those whissers and that eve glass.” wonder where he got his dress, 0 is it, anyhow?” ‘The observed ‘of all sits at case and stares about him, seemingly as unconscious of the at- tention he attracts as if he were alone. His Person is peculiar. Thick auburn curls, parted in the muddle, mustache and side whiskers something short of a foot in length, a single eyeglass in his left eye, a Scotch tweed travel- ing suit, spotted scarf and collar, a pair of Watch chains, oue to each vest pocket; well- “shined” shi riped silk socks, a seal ring the size of wberry aud a most self-satis- fied smirk on his utterly imperturbable visage —these are the distinguishing characteristics of both clothes and countenance. Freddy Gold of Gotham to Jack Reynolds of the same financial center, “if he don't beat Southern out of his boots!” “He's er Wallack in Rosedale, if he’s anything,” answered Jack with enthusiasm. Clara Mapes. the millionaire’s daughter ot the same commercial cosmopolis, overhears these comments in passing, and, breaking off from the giddy whirl, lets go her partner, way- ing: “Excuse me, Mr. Harlequin, but I intend to vail myself of @ masker’s privilege and invite Lord Dundreary to a waltz.” Skipping over to that geatileman. she accord- — nme, my you look bored. May I have the pleasure of your arm?” “Bless me! my what?” is the startled “Ab, I see! You act the part quite well, - ape, oxctilill Idiad “Awe, not understand your Semark. Beg pardon, I’: sang froid im- tzecs up the room and from sea to hillside of some | | And up andacross and around, gently and yet quickly ond firmly, revolve and undulate the graceful couple to the swectest and light- est strains of Strauss. They stop. She, to detain him. says: “How well you do Dundrears! It is better than the theater.” “I beg your pardon, I fail to catch your meaning again. What is it, may I ask?” “You are too deep for me, my lord, but you are tho best character in the room by all odds,” “You surprise me. but thank: The laucers, the Guards’ w: all the maskers unmask befe the Virginia reel. als # pretty pink with irregular features, white teeth, ha- dimp:es and brown hair. She bas a |, a fine form, and is eighteen. But she scems aghast. Dundreary does not remove his whiskers aud ogler, but stands intact, Is it, 2 agalop, and e cream and y he arrived m the Portland stage, em withou: registering; that it's his al stylo ond we're aset of gabies; that’s swers Jack, . Ciara Mapes is by the farthost window, nib- bling a country ice and 8: ug lemonade. The interesting stranger app os her with a plate of country cake. Hesitatingly, without a word, he offers it to her. “I'am so glad,” eays Clara, “that you give me the opportunity of telling you how sorry and ashamed I ata at the stupid blunder Imade just now in thinking you in disguise.” “Awe, pray don’t allude to it. Very natural, I'msure. You daunce like a syiph, really.” “You flatter me. I dance only so-so. It is you who dance weil; yes, indeed! What a lovely moon! I adore moonlight, don’t you? See how it sparkles on the mist.” “Intensely, I assure you. It's my weakness; & positive folly. My friends cali me moon- struck!” “How very absurd!” ‘The music strikes up an airy measure, the dancers spring to their places, the sexes in sep- arates rows, partners face partners, the head couple start off at a jump! and the Virginia reel is begun. What a bounce it is and now grim care avaunts in the thick of it all! During the dance an elderly gentleman in a white waistcoat, with white hair, white whiskers, white gaiters, white cravat, although by no means Venerable in appearance, but rather fast and fas mable of aspect, as ifa broker in Wall street andaclubman in 5th avenue, an old dude, in fact, frisks into the room and 'ap- plauds the dancers (who bow and smile to him) by first kissing his hand gallantly to the ladies aud next waving his baudierchief to the gen- tiemen. After this performance he again ap- plauds asifat the opera. © runs out of the line to greet him and kisses him with warmth, returning instantly to her position in | the line. Meanwhile the notable stranger un- seats himself fzom the window'sill. where he been stoically observing the “daunce.” and ing to the revercnt broker, salutes bim sh: My worthy friend, [hope you are quite well!” “Bless my soul, Reardon, you here?” “Awe, yes. Ran down for a trip to the states, Disappointed till tonight. Vortland poor place—people dull. Here in clover. Daunced With that handsome girl, Thought I was mas- querading. Good joke!" 2 "Why, that’s my daughter. are you going to stay?” “As long as it's agreeable.” “There, the recl’s over. Clara, my dear, let me introduce you to my friend, Mr. Percy Rear- don of Quebec—member of the Canadian par- liament. Know each other!” And the silly old sou!, purse proud and society struck, but sound at core, chuckles to himself like a bubbling bottle of champagne at the rare and fortunate orderings of au auspicious fate. The scene ends. It is nownext morning. Break! inacountry hotel in the summer season is not exhilarating. Ham and eggs, tough steak. burnt chops, doughy bread and biscuit, bad tea and worse coffee are the usual staples of repulsion. And the heat, noise and smell of cooked food! But at Conway in those fine old times we had fresh mountain trout and young barn-yard chickens evory day, not to speak of excellent milk, butter and hot rolls, The place had not yet been kid-gloved and private-carriaged into uncomfortablencss. It was wholesome and wild. It is9a.m. The weather is sultry, with a dog-day haze hanging over the hills and veiling the valleys like wil- very smoke. There is a hum in the air and locusts rattle in the leaves. A picnic is on foot. A couple of uncovered wagons, four-horse open ‘busses, spacious and springy, are at the door, drivers whip in hand, Lashed on behind are baskets of sardines, sandwiches and champagne. Merry young folks climb the wagons and take seats according to afiinities. It is achecry sight. Amid huzzas they start, steeds scamper- ing, children checring on the porch and lawn, ladies laughing and the living loads of youths and maidens aglow with excitement. Whither shall they go? To Jockey Cap, Chocorua, White Horse Ledge or Echo lake? Or maybe to Mount Kearsarge? Let it be the ledges be- yond the crystal Saco, Whip, snap and away! The villagers smile atthe fun, the visitors sather in groups on lawn and piazzas, infected & the passing breeze of hilarity for the mo- ment. the curs bark and tumble together, the cows look lazily on and the birds chitter in the leaves as the meadow is reached at’a run, the river is forded, Echo lake is skirted and the twin ledges tower a thousand fect in perpen- dicular wails of grayest granite over the emer- ald intervale. Whoa! Out slide, spring, trip the picnic party with no end of hubbub. Shawis, baskets, bottles are tossed about in reckless spirit; girls giggle, boys bubble over, spinsters sigh and mammas admonish, It is a good hour’s climb to the summit of the White Horse Ledge. Up we go on the off side, which has an inclination though steep, with Diana’s Baths at our feet. Rocks are scaletl, bushes are torn and trod- den through, trees are clung to, bending twigs are uprooted by the handful, bands are scratched, knees are bumped, faces flush with sport, chests heave, the breath goes hard and strong with exercise, not emotion (healthy diversioa from city, theater and drama), and allislifeand riot, the riot of youth, mirth, spirits and hope, among that goodly company. Society is out in the woods aglow with gym- nastics spurred by emulation, both beau aud belle at their best, the glowing fragrance of the summer season perfuming the scene, per- vading space andcharming the senses into a dreamy lethargy swect as Titania's. ‘The sum- mit is gained, andsuch @ view! Sacoa mere sinuous thread of glass! Conway a village of egg shells below! Mountains looming like thunder clouds afar! A score of settlements and scattered farms, here clustering, there outlying, specks of white, brown and red ona kground of green, A feeling of sudden elation seizes the mind, similar to that attend- ing aballoon voyage. If not in heaven wo aro half way there. Delby Reardon and Clara Mapes are gazing im rapture over ali this beauty. The former i3 stoical and the latter « little hysterical. Rear- don has on one arm @ shaw! and basket, on the other arm Clara im the shade of « pink para- sol, she half inclined to laugh and cry at once. Never bas she had go glorious a climb before. Her whole being is alert with life. She Lursts forth joyou: “How joliy have never chanting! y Alps aud Pyrence. held any thi How long What a beautiful picture! I en anything lke this! It’s en- T've been with papa in the 3, but never before have I be- s so bewitching. It’s divine; don't er been abroad! But I’ve seen ink it finer. More water, you “But just see that azure sky and those ficecy clouds like down. And how velvety are the meadows fringed by those soft black pines! And the river—it winds and glistens as if it were molten silver. Audsee Mt. Washington rising rock upon rock to the sky, the monarch of the carth, You know Whittier?” “Whittier, Whittier, bless me! Is he staying on our house? I dou’t remember to have met im.” “I mean the poet. How well has he described those exquisite sceaes yonder. I have not read much, but I sometimes feel what I have read. ‘This is grand indeed.” Shawls are thrown down on the ground, groups and pairs fling themselves upon them ai ease, opera glasses are brought into play, and for afew minutes the spell of admiration re- mains unbroken, It isa mute concert of de- light. Bat there are a dozen youthful couples side by side and flirting cannot long be staved away even in view of paradise, Delby and Clara soon become thus absorbed.unmindful of aught else. The golden moments quickly speed. Itislunch time. Pickles, rve iced wine, allthat the wickers hold of sub- stantial treasure, are devoured and drunk. is feast for the gods, with mortal appetites sharpened by climbing and ex; to the Laney hilltop. Ab, age where are thy pleas- ures! Nature is the friend of youth, with faith, are thine, poor age! ‘Mass Mapes has fallen a victim to the fascina- or the day before. ere are now, dudes hee was a dude idstream. i after an brie pee fashion; his clothes were uuexceptionable; bis manners were well poised; his whiskers were superb, but he was such a drawl, and what wns not drawi was droll, and there was nothing but bis habit of follow- ing her about all day «nd holding her hat, fan or parasol and fetching bor chairs and shawls to show that he shared the slightest shade of sentiment or sensibility what- soever, or that any animating principle save | soif-idolatry possessed his inanimate soul, In Clara's mind he had grown to be an cuigma, and she prudently abided itssolution, But the | Strain upon her patience was trencndous, | Before September the doubt must be decided | or a tempting opportunity let slip. And what riin love will willingly or lightly let goa | chance? Perhaps the idol had a little game of | his own to play and was not so easily to be caught by chaff, but if so he sagely kept the secret to himself and neither voice nor glance nor mode of conduct betrayed a single atom of his thought ‘o eyes that searched him with in- terest uc ke to him and her. The mount is overcast by clonds at once and aswange cffeet of lightand shade is visible. The emerald intervaie far below lies clad in sunshine, the Suco sparkling through it like a ath of spangies, while the White Horse edge is shadowed by a white mass of clouds which sweep up from the western horizon to the zenith. Asort of sunburst breaks trom the edge of the black and broken storm cloud where it skirts the sun at noon. “Isay,” singsout Mreddy Gold, “we're in fora wetting. Letter hurry up or go down with the cold fowl before the rain comes, Thunder, by jingo!” “IT never saw such acloud as that in Wall street or on 5th avenue that I remember,” said Jack Reynolds, “If it pours what are we to do with the girls?” “Here, let us finish the champagne anyway before the fun begins. The ladies!” “The deuce! What a racket there is to be in fifteen minutes! “Am I tight or are those clouds waltzing?” The company are standing up now in no smuil state of trepidation. DPurasols and some umbrellas brought by a few prudent spinsters of the party are raised; shawls and traps are bundied into the baskets in a trice, and in- stinctively the ladies gather together in fright- ened groups. while the gentlemen form an ir- regular ring about them, as if the rain from on high ean thus be warded off. Tree or shrub of shelter there is none. A fow big bowlders stand like sentinels of the turret over the un- even surface of the ledge, whose face to the east is almost as perpendicular as the wall of a house from base to summit for a thousand fect. Ivis agstriking sight, which cannot but stir the blood of the most courageous. Many acheek blanches and many a hand trembles, and well they may, for from the western hori- zon past midheaven sweeps on the thunder gust, the hurricane and the whirlwind with a velocity rare in that high latitude, It is a breath of the southern cyclone blown from its course, menacing with destruction everything in its track and able to puff from the rocky table like bits of paper the whole assembled throng of terrified picnickers, Freddy is right; the clouds are waltzing, whirling iu great circles and descending to the earth like cones or funnels, two vast whirlwinds of dust and leaves and dead birds,which would suck up a river into waterspouts as soon as it touched the Saco with its lower end. The fore- most blast begins to sweep the top of the table laud and almost hurls the party from their perch, Alleves watch the gyrations of the deadly squall, ‘We'll be blown off the ledge,” shouts Jack. “All sit down flat.” We'll be drowned with rain,” shouts Freddy, “in a second!” “Gentlemen,” calls a firm, distinct voice, “there is danger, as you say, but you are men, and you must face it! Help the ladies to the shelter of those bowlders. Ladies, you must lie down close to the rocks on theground, as near as you can,and take hold of ni Men, you must link your arms together sit on the outer side of the ladies, forming @ phalanx to resist the assault of the wind and water. Hurry! Allright! Here it comes! Hold taut!” The energetic words and action are those of a brave man, whose commands come from him with the presence of mind of acoloncl of a regimentor the captain of aship. Nor is there time to spare. Tho cyclone, whirlwind, water- spout are full upon them, as be himself stands bent ‘over the prone party regarding the tumult- uous onset. With railroad speed the two col- umns of cloud rush violently together with the report and roar of a park of artillery, amid the fierce flashes and play of a hundred forks of chain lightning, the repeated roar and crash of thunder of the tropics, forming a mass of irresistible power which swings straight for the river, drinking up the water till the bed is ui and plunging in a zigzag course direct toward the doomed ledge. The man never flinches, but lays himself back against the bowlder in readiness for the worst, his eye flashing, his form and features foarless, a spirit bold to d: the sternest perils. ‘The edge of the col of fire and water strikes them like broadside, lifting them and them a foot above — the before it lets them fall, the out above the clamor of the gale, “Grip tig! for your lives!” from the bold voice asthe man throws his own good weight crosswise upon the heap of struggling, gasping and swaying hu- manity, now drenched and stifled by the moving flood. It is over in an instant, and all, frightened, faint and feeble, stagger upright and stare in each other's faces as if awakening from sleep-and fearful dreams. Several aro bruised and strained, but none are severely inurt; the precaution’ has saved them from broken bones, if not from a horrible death at the foot of tho granite ledge they had s0 lately climbed with so much fun and frolic, Clothes are torn to tatters, however. Baskets have disappeared hacigaby with hats and parasols, and tresses long and waving hang dripping to the waist unnoticed, Soheg first to speak after the awful fear is Clara, “Oh, Mr. Delby,” she softly says, stealing up, pale and pretty, close to their rescuer’s side, “but for you we shouid all have been killed out- right. How brave it was of you! Youare a hero indeed!” “Awe! Nothing to speak of. You're not hurt, I hope. Quite a blow, wasn’t it? Shall we go down? We'll be home in time for tea.” “Reardon, old fellow, you're a brick,” cries Freddy Gold, running ‘up and wringing bim by the hand in warmth, e’d have been in kingdom come but for 8 Jack Reynolds with unwonted feel- “Pray say no more, The merost trifle, I as- sure you,” They press about him to lionize him, but he moves modestly away with asmile of playful- ness. The descent is begun. Thcre are glis- tening glances, hearty handshakings and count- less congratulations along the pathway on the part of all, and a bright flush reddens ono young face that flaines moro truth at sight than any tongue could tell in a fortnight. Such flushes spring from fires of hope and happiness abead upon the hearth of life and love’s young boked and their heat comes glowing from the heart, The storm is over, but its course is noted in nu trunks, uprooted trees, torrents scurry- ing down the hill apace and breaking in snowy soapsuds on the well-washed stones, lopped branches strewn about, dirt and driftwood tossed hither and thither in heaps, rough fur- rows torn in the earth and rocks displaced and you, ing. riven, In fact, such a miscellaneous litter of upse' re is seldom brought before our no- tice, save when the elements wage their war of furious forces, turning her garniture topsy- turvy and for the nonce gaining the upper hand, Conway has rarely had such a wrench and drench before, but fortunately the quaint little village beta fer with a sound wetting anda good-sized capful of equatorial wind. ° Old Kearsarge mountain towers above North Conway like a giant sentry gazing at the skies and stars, At the time of which I write there was a small unpainted but comfortable hotel on the summit of that Now England sierra, a welcome resort of the tired climber, where he could obtain a substantial lunch, and often at night it was the lodging place of parties of pe- destrians who were ambitious of sleeping on a mountain top and seeing the sun rise the next morning over the country extending from New Hompshire to the Atlantic—the plains of Maine. It isa three miles’ and three hours’ walk from the foot to the top of Mount Kear- ‘ge, a steep, hard climb, but one fully. y= ing the light-footed enthusiast, and: most young ; people are gifted in more or less with staple called enthusiaam, especially when confronted witha pretty piece of per- spective either in life or landscape, There is aploasure party ascending the cen- venient mountain. It is made up of very much se same aide as that ‘which a few weeks lore conquered a cyclone on the pinacle of White Horse Ledge. “But there is an unusual Fey noted | general attention. | | fusely in their button holes and hats; fully a cart load are carried in the hand, and now straightway, ere they have cooled, refreshed, or more than half gianced ou the stupendous scene of breadth and beanty stretching out be- low, groups fling themselves on the rocks and fall to weaving wreaths, festoons and fancy garlands as if they were ail Parthonias, | What's up? “ti this isn’t a jolly go,” exclaims Jack Rey- } Ids, lighting his cigar, “I'm a Dutehman.” regular racket,” says Freddy in return. light.” | and gentlemen,” declaims that juvenile, Mark Mapes, ‘since I crossed the Simpion Ihave not secn anything so fine. That must be Maine off there, and, bless my sonl, do my cyes deceive me, or is that Port- land away there and the sea! Iam surprised.” But the scenery northward soon engrosses A rolling desert wilderness of fifteen or twenty mies exteut, floored with | thick pine forests untrodden by the foot of man since the days of North American Indians, lies extended hike variegated emerald carpet- ingand drapery over as far aa the rising ranges of Nauitheg ion: Jefferson and Adams, which tower thousands of feet beyond the level of Kearsarge itself, on which we stand. Great white masses of bellying clouds hang upon the summits of the Babel peaks, hiding their out- lines as in fleecy smoke, and swing far’ down their gray and blne-biack sides, As these mists rise and fall with the winds the panorama is disclosed or hidden and sunshine or storm al- ternately prevails, ‘There is a sonse of awful solitude in the scene, grand, sublime, massive and overawing. Itis the immutable sitting side by side with the transient and the chang- ing, and even fashion pauses in its folly and stands awhile transfixed in silence at the sight. Surely slight glimpses of something glorious beyond still for a space the soul. “I say, Jack.” whispers Freddy, “it seems as if bit of the inside had got out here some- Sh What a grandeur there is about it, eh?” “Fine, douced fine, but overwhelming,” re- joins Jack in an undertone, instinctively, But society cannot sustain a state of reverence for- ever, even in church, and merry laughter breaks incontinently from the little band of grown-up boys and girls, Old Mr. Mapes gallantly unloads a basket of refreshments; sandwiches, pickled tongue and oysters are unnapkined and laid bare; iced wines sparkle in divers glasses; jest, raillery and good feeling burst out in joyous bumpers and generous glee, and the west wind watts a benison from earth and sky upon the bounteous scene of merry making and good cheer. ‘That veritable juvenile, Mapes, is the first to break the spell of conviviality and bring the party back to its original seni “Ladies and gentleme cries, waving his handkerchief gaily, ‘‘as a Wall street man and a 5th avenue father I make bold to remind you of a little matter of business which remains to be transacted. As a broken-hearted and a trifle boozy parent Lask you, one and all, why we are here today—for what purpose we have come up hill so far?” “Give it up!” cries Freddy. “For fun and fancy!” says Reynolds, “For a frolic!” shout the company. “No, sir, no!” contiunes Mapes ligubriously; “for nothing so light and airy. Let me tell you we are here ona mighty serious matter. There is to be a bridal, and that’s why we came up by the bridle path” (wiping his eyes and nose with hissilk mouchoir), ‘We are to wit- hess a murriage on a mountain! Miss Clare Mapes, ladies and gentlemen, is to bo wed, amid the winds of heaven, to Delby Reardon, esq., of Lower Canada, We have bro traveling parson, Dr. Gidcon by name, both bride and bridegroom are ready and will- ing the reverend gentleman will now drop that keg of oysters and that bottle of Hock and proceed to the celebration. All in favor of the motion will say “aye.” Contrary, “no.” The ayes have it. It is a serions subject for a joke, and no other gentlemen in or of the worid than this veteran beau and dandy, that paternal dude, would or could have carried off the matter balf so lightly. But Mark Mapes is a tellow of sev- eral consecutive wives himself and thinks nothing of marrying off a daughter in love, especially to a person of money and the mode. Reardon would be an excellent fellow to lounge with at the club and toy with in delightful dalliance amid the Aladdin palace of watered stock. Delby is an eligible catch, in short. Skipping the well-known ceremony, we resume atthe moment of champagne popping. It is Widow Clicquot, the best of that brand that Manhattan can supply, and cost at the vineyard in la beile France fully 15 francs the “ quart bottle. It is a memorable occasion. How the lads laugh and the lasses flush and flutter. What smiles wreath spin- sters, what mischievous glances wives, what winks the widows. And what an old wine-bib- ber Mr. Mapes looks as he uncorks the bottle with the gleeful zest of youth. The bride and bridegroom are u pleasant picture to look upon—the one blooming, fresh and fair as a dew-bathed daisy, the other nonchalant, but handsome,young aud manly. How they blush, though in different degrees. Itis a froli¢ to see them together and trying to look uncon- scious, but it won't do at all, the very mischicf is in it, ' Down the mountain leap the lovers first, and the well wined and winded guesta a long way after. The guides gather up the litter, paying the house # toll. What larks that going down past view after view of vale and meadow! Vo- Niviue’ mad descent in scoria is nothing to it, Vhoop, hurrah! Mr, and Mrs. Reardon are first at the foot, the company straggling by twos and threes in their wake, and old Mapes last, supported by Fred and Jack, who are boisterous to a most reckless extent. Indeed, if there were any police in Conway the said revelers would be promptly locked up for drunken and disorderly conduct, unbetitting good citizens of New Hampshire. It is a reign of anarchy, not terror. The villagers, however, meet the wedding cortege at the foot of the hill, not with pipe and tabor, but with a brass band instead. “Home, Sweet Home,” “Those Evening Bells” and “Nid, Nid. Nodding” are laboriously played with appropriate application, “Three cheers aud a tiger!” yell Jack and Freddy in a breath, too convulsed to chime in. but the idea is duly caught up by the assem- bled community and instantly given with rousing effort and effect. By this time the wedded dude and dudess are back at the hotel in fown, packed and paid for and off in the afternoon stage for the neighbor- ing and picturesque Glen House at the baso of Mount Washington, forgetful of disconsolate parent or enthusiastic countryside and obliy- ious of aught save themselves. Magniticent mountain scenery, the romance of astrictly savage and unsettied region, the bracing air of forest, hill and roadside, of river fording, rock climbing, path walking and pic- nicking—all these wholesome and purely tonic things have brought about a natural and much- to-be-applauded result in a pair so young and handsome and full of life and faith and hope in fate and future and has hied them, insensibly into wedlock. They are happy. ——_—_—__—_ Effects of Eye Strain, From the Boston Journal. Tho influence of the eyesight upon intel- lectual work is more recognized each year by educators, both in this country and Europe, and some of the most important discussions among both teachers and physicians bear upon this subject. One of the most lucid articles treating of the varied kinds of eye imperfe tion is ‘Eye strain in connection with he: aches, neuralgia and nervous disturbances, contributed to Babyhood by J, M. Mills, in the New York Ophthalmic and Aural Institute, The most common causes of annoyance and suffer- ing are far-sightedness, having its origin in the position of the rincipal focus of parallel rays of light behind the retina; hear-sightedness, in which the parallel rays of light are brought to a focus in front of the retina; astigmatiom, due to the irregular curvature of the cornea and insufficiency or weakness of muscles of the eyeball, It is use- ful for both parents and toachers to recognize the seriousness of the symptoms of strain due to any of these forms of eye imperfections, From far-sightedness come easy fatigue of the eye, aching sensation in the eyeballs, finally persistent and obstinate muscular irritation MRS. JILKINS OF TEXAS, Her Son Josh the First to Do Honor to the Family. From the New York Times. Mra, Jiliing was dressed up and had come to cali, Iwas newcomer out on that frontier divide, My husband was a “tenderfoot” who had strayed to this border land of civilization in search of health. Having heard scveral days before that the Jilkins’ “water hole” had given out during the prevailing dronght, he had sent | Word to them tocome down from their ranch, about five miles above us, and “camp” at the same spring from whose abundance we drew our supply of water. Being an utterly new species of humanity to Mrs. Jilkins she took a tender curiosity and interest in me and frequently gave me the benefit of her society. On this particular after- noon she appeared to neat advantage, wearing 4 gayly figured calico skirtand a white lawn sack, cut lowin the neck, apparently with a view to displaying the wrinkled yellowness which time had there bestowed. Her dark locks, usually worn short, were on this occasion drawn tightly, very tightly, back from her face and thrust into a net of rusty black cotton at the back of her head, cansing serious appre- hension in the mind of the beholder lest, should she wink a trifle more emphatically than usual, the much-strained Rene would snap, “Llikes tocome over when it’s soas I kin and cheer you up a bit,” she said, settling her- self comfortably in the oue rocking chair my establishment afforded, her flowered skirts bubbling up all around her, her restless little brown eyes traveling exploringly over tho rest of the contents of my tent. “I reckon as how you = kind 0° low-spirited out here after bein’ used to livin’ in a city,” she remarked. ‘‘For my part I can't abide to go to this ere town in the country, even for two or three days; it seems as if the fuss and closeness fairly makes my head spin ‘round, and I never wuz to arale city but onc’t, and that was when I went to have these put in, Aud she deliberately removed both the upper and lower sets of her teeth that I might see the reality of their fakeness, if 1 may be per- mitted such an expression. “I went down all the way to San Antone that time'on top o' the wool sacks in the wagon, and the sun was powerful hot, and I got mighty tired, ‘cause it wasa hundred and seventy miles, only I kept thinking how I'd git onto old Jack if he went to playin’ any pranks "bout that wool, ‘cause the time before, when we went to sell the wool, it * to me that he didn’t tell a very straight story "bout what he did with the wool money, and it seemed to me as how the price had gone down mightily that year, “I didn’t mean to take up your time with old Jack's sly tricks this afternoon. Seecin’ as how you was young andnever been used to doin’ much. as I kin see by your hands, as Ilowed to ‘Miss Hanlan the first day I seen you, I thought maybe as how you'd like to have me put you in the way of managin’ so as to save and ‘cumulate property out here. Jack Jilkins kin count his cat- ue by the thousands now and he’s well able to buy the finest house was ever builded andit's well known us how his property is all owin’ to my managin’ ways, You sce, when Josh comes to trial in the fall he'll stan’ a good chance to beat ’em and git clear, if money kin do it, and it’s his mother, and not that precious rascal of a father of his, that he'll have to thank for it. Yes, he'll git off if money kin do it, even if it is proved as how Bunce Hadley’s Winchester wasn't loaded that day that Josh met him on the River road. That was before you come out here, and I’ve been wantin’ to tell you the straight of that story. “Why! when that blessed boy come to me that night and told me, while he w: in’ his supper, that he'd done a good day's job and Bunce Hadley was a layin’ six mile up the road and had ‘passed in his checks,’ I said: ‘Well, Josh, my boy, I've been the mother of six sons, I have, and this is the first honor in the Jilkins family.’ You see, Bunce was at that dan they had there by Tinker’s ranch the time that big ‘round up,’ and Josh, he was there, too, with Jilkins’ outtit. Bunce had two or three drinks ahead and he told some o’ Tin- ker’s cowboys as how he was goin’ tb dance with Josh’s gal that night. Josh swore he shouldn't, and saw to it that he didn’t till Josa skipped out to take a little game with the Helk boys, who'd been shearin’ sheep over on South Llana at Kedmund’s and were feelin’ pretty flush—had made so much money, though Ido hear now as how Redmund says he'll never have 'm again, they cut his sheep up so bad. “Well! when Josh finally made out to come back ’mongst the company there sat Bunce Hadley right by the gal a fannin’ of her and lookin’ as much at home as if Josh didn’t have the $2 right there, in his pocket, to git out the license to marry her with. Hadley lit out the side door when he saw Josh comin’, and when Josh met him t! Wednesday on the Ri road ho made outas how she'd sort of invited him to dance with her, and then, when Josh told him he lied, he "lowed as how he was cer- tain sure she'd called him to set there by her, and Josh never wasted no more words on him then, but put a bullet through him right there, and he tumbled off his horse dead. osh is crazy ‘bout that gal. He says he's marry her soon as he gits bail and her enough, ‘cause they know old man Jack's pretty well fixed and will do the right thing by Josh one of these days, pertic’- larly since the poor chile’s been in sech hard luck "bout this river road killin’ scrape. I don’t b’lieve they gives him half enough to eat in that jail down there, and he says there's a ministe’ been in to see him twice every week sinco he’s been there; the boy is gittin’ right down poor with sich treatment; he ain't used to bein’ worried so with preachin’ and long rayers, and Josh always was pertic’lar "bout is victuals; likes a good lay out, and that well cooked, though he never wuz no great hand to want fancy things. Often and often I seen him push away a good rich custard pie or maybe vinegar tart, and relish a baking of plain corn- bread if there wuz a good onion stew and a bite of cheese to go with it, My Josh's been brung up right after my own way, and he’s a rattlin’® good fellow, if 1 do say it as shouldn't, and if money kin keep him out of jail ho’ll marry his gal ‘fore Christmas, even if some people do say Bunce Hadley was ondefenseless that day he took the River road to town. He'd ought to known better than to fool round Josh Jilkins’ gal even if she did ask him to set by her when Josh wasn’t there, “But I'm a forgettin’ I wanted to tell you how I manage "bout lookin’ after things so as Switzer’s bills down there in the town don’t mount up so monstrous high against us that it takes mere than one bunch o’ fat beeves to sottle it up. First place, there’s no use in all the cowboys and herders bein’ provided with coffee, because that runs off with the sugar. ‘There ain't no coffee drunk at my camp, 'cept- in’ old man Jack has his cup in the mornin’, else he says he gits the headache. The miik is 4 powerful sight o' help, if you know how to use it right, cause you kin see the butter in the bread in place of short’nin’. There's not been any short’nin’ bought on our bill all this year. Flour an’ meal 1s about all we gita mostly from town. What with the beef and mutton to count on, and now and then a batch of venison, only I never lets the boys waste the powder and shot a riskin’ to kill a deer less’en it’s a down sure thing.” Just here Cheekcet, the twelve-year-old hope- ful of the Jilkins family, appeared in the door- way and called her mother’s attention to a long-horned cow, which was proceeding slowly toward the river for its evening drink, nibbling at the grass as it went and accompanied by = little calif, On the white side of this cow near- est to us appeared the mystic letters “J.LL.,” and if one were in doubt as to whose herd she belonged he had only to geta view of her other side, which bore the inscription ‘““K.LN.S.” Cheekeet explained that the calf was un- branded and that her sisters 'Liesh and ’Lis- beth had sent her to advise their mother of the fact. Giving me the pleasing ass that she would be back after a while Mra, Jil- kins tore off, all energy at the thought of a new acquisition to her sions, and I stood in the door of my tent with yed Carolina baby in my arms and watched her and her hters as the: I ‘iret rete i i Hl i 3g ull a4 at KISSED BY A BURGLAR. The Story ofa Girl’s Midnight Adventure That is Toid in San Francisco. From the St. Louis Star Sayings, “I heard the oddest of all burglar stories when I was out on the Pacific coast,” said a New Yorker who had just returned from there, “It was told to me as having happened toa houschold in a suburb of San Francisco, Private detectives wero employed to hunt the desperado, but the fear of publicity hid the case from the authorities, In the front hall room: on the sccond floor of a detached house slept the danghter of the house, the other mombers of the family being only her father | and mother. The Chinese servant was, in all probability, at some friend's laundry or over in San Francisco smoking opium, as those servants are almost certain to be after night- fall, But he does not count, at any rate. | The young lady was not asleep. She was in | very poor health, and part of her ailment was an inability to sleep, except in cat naps. | She hearda noise on the porch beneath her window, and a minuto later her window was} thrown ‘open and aman stepped lightly into | the room, Without halting to see if his action | had roused anyone he passed along the very | harrow passage between her bed and her tru —a way so narrow that it was the young lady's custom to sit on her bed and search her trunk and to lace her shoes by putting one foot at a | time the trunk while she was seated on the be “As the burglar passed along beside the bed he dropped one hand upon the young woman's | head, and then let it remain in that position as he moved, and it swept along her side over the | bed clothes. But when his hand reached her fect he pinched one of her toes, gently and mis- | chievously, and passed out of the room into the She did not dare to scream, nor did she care to venture out after the tinef. W e she lay there, dreadfully frightened and wondering | what to do, back came the man. He stood in | her room, closed and locked the door, and then sat down upon the bed. Now,” said he, in a gentle voice not at all modulated to avoid being heard, ‘I know that you are awake, and I am going t here and | taik with you.’ Upon my honor as a burglar of reputation and good instincts I will not hurt you. In only one way will I transgress the Tules of good breeding. I am going to kiss you, that is all.” ¥ “The WF ered woman found her voice and Scream: “‘Oh,’ said_the burglar, ‘Iam sorry you are i rome I have half a mind to go away an to my presence. But, no; 1 cannot do that, I only mean to take one kiss—— “At this point her screams were at her loud- est, and the noise she made was such as to wake any but a dead household, one would have thought. “‘T really wish you would not do that,’ said the burglar. ‘It will not deter me. What do Icare? I can only die at the outside, and I am not in the least afraid to die. Ihave seen you again and again on the strects, and I have made up my mind to risk anything in order to kiss you—to kiss you when you are awake, and know I am not stealing the favor, tor I would not risk a day in jail to kiss a woman asicep, Well. if you won't stop screaming I cannot see amy use in delaying——’ “Here be put an arm under the girl's shoulder and geutly raising her body he bent his own and kissed her on her lips as lightly and respectfully as if she had been his maiden aunt. With that he lowered her, still scream- come again when you are more accustomed | AS IN THE BABYLON OF OLD Then Ladies Wore Big Hats and Ace cordion-Plaited Skirts. Dr. Julian J. Chisolm, who has traveled ex- tensively 1 is a close observer, when asked by @ reporter of the Baltimore American to name what startled him the most in his sight- seeing trip of the past summer said: “The street dross of the ancient Assyrian ladies.” Among the collection of Babylonish antiquities of the British museum his attention was at- tracted to the little hollow cylinder made from #ome very hard stone or onyx, chalcedony, jepar or lapis lazuli, which were used as sig- nets by the ancient Babylonians. Their age, as chronologically established, 1s 2,800 B. C., long before the time assigned to the building of the tower of Babylon and about the period of the destruction of the world by the great de These cylinders are the length and size of a lady's litte finger. Upon their surfaces are beautifully cut mtaglios. To ex- hibit the mature and perfection of these an- cient carvings on such very hard substances, the custodians of the museum had made im- prints in fine plaster, which were placed by the side of the cylinders. Some of these ii sions, as sharp as the most perfect cutting on gems of the present day, represented female hgures, dressed in the walking costumes of that very distant period. The style of the dress was very striking. The gown was « tight fitting body, with long-fitting sleeves, The skirts clung to the tigure, about as it does to- day on ladies fashionably attired. The distance from the waist to the hem of the garment was equally given to three broad flounces or over- skirta, each made apparently of the same mate- rial," plaited om the accordion — plaite, so" fashionable in thie year, | 1890, The hat worn was a» high one; the figures being small, not much over one inch in length, the peculiarities of the hat could not be clearly made out, It seemed not wi those which form so disturbing an element the theater seats of the prese . The whole costume wasof so familiar a nature that it would not attract special attention if seen upon our streets of today, aud yet these ladies lived and dressed over four thousand years ago. Fashions are known to revolve in circles aud are continually returnu to those previousiy discarded. These Babylonish siguets, with their wonderful carvings. preserved to us from antediluvial times, establish the truth of this adage beyond peradventure. From these very curious and interesting historical prints the | inference may be drawn that most likely the female members of Noah's family, when they sought refuge in the ark wore high hate and accordion-piaited gowns. a Duluth vs. London, ably the foremost of contemporary Virginians in literature, has | months, been in Europe several He is exceedingly fond of Lon- don, for here better then in any other place | in the world can he fecd his love for things | which age and reminiscence have rendered beautiful. Page is poetic to a degree. writes beautiful verse, as you know; b still, he loves to invest the commonplaces of life with poetic thought. He is by no means a sentimentalist, He detests everything that ap- proaches to the maudlin and the hysterical, but sees life and nature through reverential eyes, and that ix why he sees in life more of beauty, of wisdom, of tenderness and of thas ing, to her pillow, and leaped out the window. Her screams brought her father and mother, all too late, aud they found her able to tell all that had taken place. Yet in an hour she had grown delirious, and it was a month before she was even mentally herself again. The bravo was never captured.” HE LEARNED SOMETHING. The Moral of It Was Not to Be Too Free Talking to Strangers. From the Pittsburg Dispatch. “Men don’t climb the ladder of fame ata single bound,” the passenger in the salt and pepper suit was saying. ‘Success, like char- acter, is a thing of slow growth.” “I think you are mistaken,” said the pas- senger in the skullcap with asmile. “Men some- times got pretty well up toward the top of the ladder by one jump, and they don't have to jump very hard, either.” “Do you happen to think of any instances in your own knowledge where a man won endur- ing fame by one act?” “Well, yes. An instance occurs tome in which one speech made not only a man, buta city famous.” “Oh, yes. You are speaking of J. Proctor Knottand Duluth. Well, I'll admit that Proc- tor Knott isan exception. There are just two characters in history that made themselves famous by one speechi.” “Indeed? Who are they?” “J. Proctor Knott and Balaam's ass.” The man in the skull cap smiled a rather sickly smile and went away presently to the other end of the car, “Do you know who that chap is?” inquired the man in the salt and pepper suit of the pas- senger on the seat in front. “Yes. That is J. Proctor Knott.” The Forgetful Employe. From the American Grocer. A successtul business man says there were two things which he learned when he was eighteen which were afterward of graat use to him, namely: “Never to lose anything and never to forget anything.” « An old lawyer sent him with an important paper with certain instructions what to do with it. ‘But,” inquired the young man, “suppose | lose it, what shall I do then?” “You must not lose it.” “I don’t mean to,” said the young man, “but suppose I should happen to.” “But I say you must not happen to;I shall make no provision for such an occurrence; you must not lose it.” This puta new train of thought into the young man’s mind, and he found that if he was determined to do a thing hecoulddo it, He made such a provision against every contin- gency that ho never lost anything. He found this equally true about forgetting. Ifa certain matter of importance was to be remembered, he pinned itdown in his mind, faste: it there and made it stay. He used to say: “When & man tells me he forgot to do something, I ‘tell him he might as well have said: ‘I do not care enough about your business to take the trouble to think about it again.’ ” Tonce had an intelligent young man in my employ who deemed it sufficient excuse for ne- glecting any important task to say: “I forgot it.” Itold him that would not answer. If he was sufficiently interested he would be careful toremember, It was because he did not care enough that he forgot it. I drilled him with cctetk He waked Se matinee years, and during the last of the three he was utterly changed in this respect. He did not forget a thing. His forgetting, he found, was a lazy, careless habit of the mind, which he cured. Thrown His Money Away. From the Boston Courter. Cosmopolite—So you've been to Boston? Rusticus—Oh, yes, C.—Did you go to Faneuil Hall? R—Oh, yes. C.—Did you hear Phillips Brooks preach? B—Oh, yes. ee you go up Bunker Hill monument? —01 C—Well dia yon go into one of those 5-cent stores and hear tho girls say “‘Caawsh?” R—No. C,—Then you have simply thrown your money away. very many others see. The other morning—it was sunny and balmy, for a wonder—Mr. Page made up his mind to stroll about London. That might involve many hours of walking, but he had sagaciously mapped out a little route which would not re- quire more than two hours and yet would in- clude view of several notable spots. A Mr. Hinton accompanied the famous Virginian. This ir. Hinton hails from Dulnth, Mmp.; @ young man fall of the most exuberant American spirit and bountifully provided with means wherewith to gratify a laudable devire for travel. Mr. Hinton liked Mr. Page because Mr. Page was “eo darned well up in history and things,” and Mr. Page liked Mr. Hinton for his exuberance and candor. The twain were wholly congenial. They started out of Bolton street and walked up Piccadilly, Mr. Page calling his friend's at- | tention to the dingy residence of the Baroness Burdett Coutts and to the old house by the Duke of Devonshire, where, as Mr. | Page had discovered, there is to be seen the | finest collection of old play bills in the world, “Here,” said Mr. Page, pausing a moment in | his course, “there is the old ‘White Horse cellar,” | before which in the old mi | was to be seen what Hazlitt | finest sight in the metropo! setting | ofthe mail coaches im Piccadilly! Alas, the | splendor of those deys has vanished, yet here stands this old trysting spot, ® monument to | departed glory.” As they passed Arlington street Mr. Page pointed out where Lady Mary Wortley Monta- | gue used to live and Horace Walpole as well | Mr, Hinton was inclined to pause in front of St James Hall to see what the negro minstrels were going to play that evening, but Mr. urged him forward and the two crossed circus and presently made their way into Lei- cestcr Square, which historic locality inspired | Mr. Page to let loose a flood of aneedote ani | reminiscence about French wiles, Robert Sidn jeorge Ll, the Duke of Cumberland, Wiliam Hogarth, Joshua Reynolds, Sir Isaac | Newton, and other people who at some period | im their lives lived in this quaint old locality. | , Se betimes the twain drifted down through Trafalgar square and around to the right into ‘Charing Cross and Whitehali, viewing with increasing interest the lovely old landmarks on | each side. | “How truly,” remarked Mr. Page, “how ‘truly has it been said that in this place ‘every | step we take is upon ground sacred toa hun- dred memories!” aturally enough hit | Page scores of instructive anecdotes and illus- | trations and very many appropriate bits from | the best poets. “He made no effort to restrain his feelings, and his companion, Mr, Hinton, heard him with respectful attention. “How long did you say he has been dead?” asked Mr. Hinton at iast. ‘More than two hundred years,” answered Mr. Page, ‘Just think of it; here are we to- day standing upon the very spot where centu- ries ago that amiable and kingly king fell martyr unbridied, ferocious fanaticism! Is not the thought overwhelming?” “Yes, that’s the trouble,” said Mr. Hinton, “I don’t feel like kicking, but I've been travel- ing around for an hour or two expecting to see something connected with somebody now on earth. You've been mighty kind and interest- ing, Mr. Page, and I've enjoyed your talk, but would you mind telling me if there's anything to see here in London thut hasn't been two or three hundred years?” What!” cried Mr. Page, simply aghast, ‘an it be possible that you do not appreciate the beauty of these historic, theee grand old things?” “Oh, yes, I suppose they're all right so far ae they go,” said Mr. Hinton, “but, you ses, we Duluth folke ain't much on ancient truck, What I'd like to see, if they have ‘em here, would be some of their grain elevators, with trains backing in or out—or some of their lumber rafts, I want to see life; that’s what I'm here for? As far as I can judge fhe people over hero simply ain't in with us uth folks!” He said my eyes were diamonds it, my cheeks like jacqueminots, my neck and brow as fair and white as winter's purest snows. He swore my hair was like the gold that tints the sunset skies, my chin was cast in Cupid's mold—and truth seemed in his eyes. a was like the new-born day, my teeth rows of pearl, and after that he went away to see another girl.—Cape Cod Item, It is the street car‘conductor who remembers Lot's wife. He never looks back, FROM JOHNNIE TO JACK. ‘From the Sartorial Art Journal,