. wengig THE NEW YORK WEEKLY. $822 wo. 0-1 A FADED FRIENDSHIP. BY W. J. WILLMOTT. I gazed at the sun as slowly it sunk, The sky with its brilliancy glowing, And thought of a friendship that faded away In this busy world’s coming and going. She came, and I loved her, and each passing day Cemented our friendship the stronger ; Our parting drew near, and we sighed at the thought ‘That together.we'd ramble no longer. = = >" Far better if thus we had parted for aye, While love in her brown eyes was beaming ; I then could have pondered and thought of the past As some beautiful thing I’d beén dreaming. A twelvemonth flew by, and once more we met, But, alas! I now learnt tomy sorrow, That a face that is smiling with welcome to-day May scornfully smile on the morrow. The very first glance made a rent in my heart, Arent that was not to be mended ; For the proud, distant look, the cold-spoken word Proclaimed that our friendship was ended. Now I cannot look back on the first time we met With feelings of joy or of pleasure, For it only reminds of a cold, changing world, In which a true friend is a treasure. THE SLOWLY PAPERS, BY MARY KYLE DALLAS. No. 4.-MRS. SLOWLY AND THE CAPTAIN GO TO SEE THE TICKET-OF-LEAVE MAN. ' i 2 AS Batt ao ne Can OMe Terk + od 2 ght © t \) # Cale Oy 2s WE he = o PA & - d When I came to York I hadn’t ever been to a play. I shouldn’t any more have thought of going than I should have thought of flying, which, with my weight—evenif wings was to be invented, which a scientific gentleman that preached about “aerial navigation” as he called it, said was sure to be done if the world lasted long enough—even if they was in- vented, with my weight I might think of long before I could do it. That plays was wicked I had always heerd, and, as the Rey. Mr. Johns said, “Gates to the Lower Regions,” and there was an actor boarded at the tavern a spell that drank like mad besid@S having three wives, all of which came after him, and made the landlady’s heart ache crying hard in the parlor, and he unfeeling as a frog, and ended by committing suicide in Scrubble’s barn, though Iexcuse’em for all for Loften think what my feelings would have been if the cappen had turned out to have two wives, much less three. Ma refused to give consent when he first came to see me because of his being a seafar- ing-man; eee “Sarah,” she says, “mark my words; a sailor always has a wife in co es and I wouldn’t be- lieve him if he swore he hadn’t.” But the cappen won her over with such politeness as younever saw, and when he came home from a voyage you couldn’tsee him for the jars of preserved oe and the boxes of guava jelly he brought her ome, not to speak of foreign birds that all died of cold except the one the cat caught. And he ac-: knowledged, the cappen did, how that some sailors was wild but that he had taken warning by ’em. But di ane my dears, | was talking about plays. No, I hadn’t ever been to one, and when the cappen cante home, and says he: - “Now, ma, and Minervy, put on your new topsails, for I’m going tosteer you to atheayter this even- ing.” 53 ae : Why, Lopened my eyes and lifted up my hands. and says I: “Cappen, don’t talk wicked.” “What d’ye mean, ma?’ says he. “Why, pa,” says I, *‘plays are sinful.” “Who told you so?” says he. “Says I, “I dunno who told me. It’s one o’ them facts folks knows from the kind o’ intooition.” “Says he, ‘Look a here!’”’ So he handed me a bill, and on it I read, “ ‘The Ticket-o’-Leave Man’ is worth a hundred sermons.” “Lal” says tT. s “Yes,” says he; ‘and a clergyman has writ a play. and all his congregation gone to see it. So now, old woman, who's to call ’em sinful ?” : “Well, pa says I, “I know you’d not mislead me. But it’s singular.” “Well,” says he, “so itis; I don’t deny. When I was a boy it was the chaplain’s bounden duty to groan about anything amusing, and to represent to other folks how life was as bad to take as a dose of “medicine, and how it was a sin to find any comfort in it. But things are changing, ma, and we change with’em. What a chaplain does can’t be wrong, I suppose; so we'll go.- Besides, country folks in town are like sailors ashore. Now, a hand that got tipsy afloat I’d have had ropes’ ended, but when they went ashore, why it was different. A holiday is a holiday, as Lreckon.” $ s “La, pa!” says I, “you make it seem wickeder than ever, you really do. But I suppose it won’t hurt to go and see the play, and if it’s wicked we’ll never go no more.” . “Agreed, ma,” says he. : So Minervy and me went and dressed ourselves in our best, and off we went in an omnibus, and down we was sot at the door of the theater, and in the cappen takes us, ““My dears, I dunno what wickedness players may be up to, and I hope [I don’t like ’em; but, my dears, there was a young man walled up alive selling tickets. I looked and looked, and there wasn’t any door for him to get out at, only a window, and I sup- ne they put his food in that way to keep him alive. asked the cappen, and he says:_ “Sarah, accordin’ to my reckoning, they're afraid he’d make off with all that money if so be he had his liberty, and Brape it’s inthe agreement so drawed, one that he shall be walled up for a certain space 0’ time. He looks as if he wus willin’ to remain so.” “But Pee there wus a fire,” says I. ‘I shall dream of that young man, I know.” “Tickets, if you please, mate,” says the cappen. ~ “How many?’ says the poor young man, quite brisk and cheerful. 5 : Says he, “For me and these two ladies—wife and darter?” “Reserved seats ?”’ says the young man. “We want first-cabin passage, whatever it is,” says the cappen. “Orchestra chairs?” says the young man. “We'll trust to you, mate,’ says the cappen. So he gave us tickets, and in we went. It looked like meetin’. Everybody in there had bunnets, and all sitting up proper jest as if they wus goin’ to be preached to. : “I don’t believe it’s a bit wicked, Minervy,” I said. “La, don’t, ma,’ says Minervy. ‘‘Everybody’ll hear you.” Well, a nice, slick young man that they called an usher pointed out our seats, and we squeezed into our places, and putty soon the music began. It was splendid. T never heard such music, though Minervy and her cousin Sam does play duetts together on the | orrseage and the fiddle sometimes. This wus etter than the Fourth o’ July procession. And I thought, “If this is a theayter, why talk against it ?” There wus a beautiful pictur straight before me, and I wus admirin’ it, when suddenly it rose up; and then I began to know what the theayter wus. Oh, my d There was the nicest young al ou ever knew was obliged gs play a guitar and sing get victuals to eat; and there was a young man that had come from the country somewhere, and whether he knew the money was counterfeit or not I wouldn't like to say, for I myself gave our grocer a b: alf-dollar, and never knew it until it was given back. But he pases it, anyhow. But there was some good in him, for he gave real money to the r girl with the guitar, and it was pretty to see ow obligated she was to him. But it seemed to me, too, that that young man— Robert Brierly was his name—was jest a little the worse for eee he’d taken. He was pretty, though, with his yellow hair and ink cheeks, and when they came and arrested him jest riz up, and says I: : “Do let him off! I’m sure he didn’t knowit, and if he did he won t do it again.” : Says the cappen, “Ma, don’t interfere. Law is law, and when it’s broke must haveits course. Don't try to prevent it. There’ll be a trial, and if he ain't guilty why he’ll clear himself.” : So I jest sat down and cried, and waited jest as anxious as if Mr. Bob Brierly had been a neighbor. Well, the curtain riz again. I don’t know why they didn’t leave it up to let us see what happened. And there was the young gal. She didn’t play the guitar no more for a livin’, but took in sewin. I thought the more of her for takin’ up some respectable trade as soon as she could, as I told the lady next me; and she paid her rent regular, for so the old lady down stairs said when she came in forit. A nicer old lady I never knew, and how I felt for her! That grandchild of hers was the plague of her life, and she sat down and told us all about it. Says I, ‘“Ma’am,I know your feelings well, and there’s Mrs. Brown, down our way, she suffers as you do with hers.” Says the captain, “Begging have you rope’s-ended him?” ‘Spare the rod and spile the child’ is scriptur. Ef he troubles you any more, jest hand him over to me and [’ll fix hii.” “Oh, do hush,” says Minervy. “Minervy,” says I, “when I’m spoke to [I shill answer, be it where it may.” Mrs. Jones she lived iu the same house, too. She and Mr. Jones we'd seen before, and she’s lovely, but ‘not, as I should say, genteel. And as tor singing, when [ had such a cold and wus so obliged to sneeze, I wouldn’t do it. I felt sorry for her, and says I, ‘Don’t, ma’am, I beg. I know that you'll be hoarse to-night, foracold ain’t to be trifled with. Takea cup of yarb tea and soak your feet in hot water, and don’t put yourself out to sing for us no more.” Then every lady laughed. Why, goodness knows, for I don’t. That was after, though, when that nice old lady’s grandson was gambling with the dreadfulest crea- tures eyer I saw in a drinking place. I felt so took up with Mr. Brierly thatI coutdn’t think of any one but him. He came home on what they called a ticket-of-leave. Cappen tried to tell me what it wus, and it seems it’s a pass to go about free, providin’ they don’t misconduct. And as for him, the poor dear, I’m as sure as sure can be that he never did anything to deserve taking UR. for it wus those other men, I’m sure as gos 1. Well, he was engaged to Miss May, and they didn’t like to tell it, so she called him her brother. And I’ve known plenty who thus spoke of their steady company as cousins, and it wusn’t much worse. And then to see Bob Brierly in the nice old gen- tleman’s office, looking so spruce and bright, and be- having so nice, and going to be married to Miss May. “Well,” says I to “T never felt more pleased about a stranger in my life, for they both deserve it.” Oh my! oh my! and just then the dreadfulest things were coming to him. Troubles never come single, you know, and it shows what keepin’ bad company is. They turn up jest when they’re not wanted, after you've tried to get ridof’em. Not that I ever kept it myseif— Lord forbid! Mr. Hawkshaw, he was a detective, and, I should say, a nice, steady man, though with a temper, and he never told a word about what he knew to the old gentleman that hired Bob Brierly in his office; and how could he, when Mr. Brierly stood asking him not to, with his eyes? I didn't durst speak to Mr. Hawk- shaw, because the old gentleman might have heard, but I just nodded and winked at him, as mueh as to say, or saw what you did, and I take it very kind of you.’ And then there came in such a nice old gentleman —oh, so respectable, that nobody ever would have thought he could do any wrong. I'm sure 1’d have trusted him with thousands; and if he didn’t try to ick the safe open! And, bless you! Mr. Robert rierly caught him, and he was a dreadful critter in disguise—one he’d knowed of old. And, out of re- venge, the fellow that wanted to rob the safe went and got the other old thief to tell how that poor Robert Brierly was a ticket-of-leave man. on out it allcome on the day he was to be mar- pardon, ma’am. But ried! s “Oh,” says I, turning to him. “Stop,” says I. Re- flect on what you’re doing, and be kind to that poor young man.” But he never looked at me, no more’n if [ hadn’t spoken, not a bit more; andaway they went. And when the nice old lady, that I told you of, sat down, I saw her feelings was like mine. “And it’s too bad, ma‘am,”’ saysI. “Jest when he was getting on so nice.” . : But the worse hadn’t come. I wouldn’t go through it again for worlds. That nice young man came down to diggin’ sewers and carryin’ the hod. And even then, sot agin by his bad companions, that put even those common laborers up to turning their backs on him. And he hadn’t a decent suit of clothes to his back, poor dear, and he hadn’t had the heart to comb his hair; and his poor eyelids, how pink they were! Oh, my! I cried, and cried, and cried. What my feelings was nobody can tell. Oh, my! oh, my! And then, down in that drinking-cellar, what did them wretches do, but get at him and try to make him se to help ’em rob his old master. And he agreed. ecOh, dear!” says I, “Young man, don’t, I beg and pray of you, don’t. You'll feel the worse for doing wrong.” But then, how mistook I was; for it was only to find out allaboutit. And when they were gone down cellar, he wrote a note telling ali aboutit. And, says e: “But who’ll carry it?” And, says the ¢appen: *“Heave ithere. I will, my lad.” But Mr. Hawkshaw, he was asleep onthe table, and he took it. ‘ And then, my dears, if there wasn’t the office out- side, with the grave-yard over the way; and if the housebreakers didn’t goin, and if Robert didn't go in with ’em, and his poor wife looking over the gate, talking to that critter, that no name is bad enough for, and begging him to tell her where her husband was; and all the while he was in there with the housebreakers. And then there came Mr. Hawkshaw, and choked the old rascal, and laid down behind a tomb, and pounced on ’em when they came out, and there was an awful fight, and the wretch shot poor Robert. Up pimped the cappen. “Pll help ye, my lads,” says he. Says I, ‘Don’t rush into danger, pa. Remember me and Miuervy.” : But pa would have gone, only the gentleman play- ing the violin caught him by the leg. Says he, “Stop, sir; assistance has arrived.” And sure enough it had, and the rascals were treed, and Robert Brierly’s wife and the old gentleman was a- liftin’ him up. : . There he sat, so white, all but his poor pink eye- lids, and the blood running from the awful wound on his forehead. And they were a-thanking him, and says he, “There may be some good even in a ticket-of-leave man.” “Oh,” says I, “Yes, yes. You’ve proved it, and we know you'll never do wrong no more if you live.” But down came the curtain, and up riz the folks. Pa and me sat still. “Pa,” says I, ‘I can’t go until I know whether he'll get over it.” “Nor I,” says pa. ‘A clam would feel a brother’s int’rest in him, and I must know how he is.” So we went up front, and [ caught hold of the sleeve of the young man that played the violin. “Says I, ‘Mister, if you please, is he better?” It pretty desperate. I’ve knowed men to die of less,” said the cappen, “So don’t laugh, mate. It’s Mr. Brierly we ask after. My compliments, and Mrs. Slowly’s, and our darter Minervy’s, and how does he find himself.” “And if there’s any one needed to sit up, I’ll come,” says I, ‘‘and willing.” “Andif that old hunks won’t [take him on again, ee he recovers,” says the ee “ve a rother that deals in ship stores, and he’ll give him a berth, and glad to have him on my advice.” Well, the young man did laugh, I know, but he told us quite polite that Mr. Brierly was not dangerous, and that the old gentleman would employ him. Then we went home; but I wouldn’t go through with it again for millions, and every night since I’ve dreamt of him, with his poor pink eyelids, and his white cheeks, and that awful wound on his head, and I'll never go toa play to suffer so again in all my life. clit te diiass A COSTLY CROWN. The diadem in which Queen Victoria was crowned, June 28, 1838, is much more tasteful and manageable than that of her predecessor, George IV., which weighed nearly seven pounds. Queen Victoria’s crown weighs about three pounds, and is composed of bands of silver, entirely covered with precious stones and topped with a ball covered with small diamonds, surmounted by a Maltese cross composed of brilliants, and bearing in its center a large sapphire. A _ splendid heart-shaped ruby, once owned by Edward the Black Prince, adorns the face of the cross which isin the front of the crown, and below this is an enormous oblong sapphire. There are two large center diamonds valued at $10,000 each, and four diamonds on the tops of crosses, each worth $50,000; two circles of arl around the rim cost $4,000, and there are besides, emeralds, rubies, sapph- ires and clusters of pearis to the value of $555,000. The whole crown is lined with deep blue velvet, and surrounded with ermine. A PRAYER FOR PITY. BY SUSANNA JARDINE. There is s0 much of sunshine in thy lot, Thou art so safely sheltered from the strife, I cannot wonder that thou knowest not The cold, dead Winter of a loveless life. How shouldst thou know !—thyself so far above Less favored ones, who pray thee to bestow Out of the great abundance of thy love A word, a smile, to cheer them as they go. Oh, ye on whom the sun shines bright and warm, Whose flowers are waved by Zephyr’s softest breath, Ye know not of the tempest and the storm Or the despairing agony of death! Ye know not, therefore censure not their grief, For different hearts have different loads of care; Ye grieve if Fate awards you one dead leaf, While they have few but mildewed sheaves to bear. EXCITEMENTS. BY THE REY. A. M‘ELROY WYLIE. Excitementsare notalways necessarily deprecated. They act often as moral and spiritual purgatives. They are often the gushing fountain pouring its pure, living waters ir ) the stagnant, reptile swarm- ing pond. There isa mighty stirring up, and then the retreat of the turbid, miasmatic mass before the erystal flood. Excitements may wear, but wearing is far better than rusting. " Itis a great mistake to suppose that any kind of vital force is conserved by holding back, as you would dam up waters in a mill-pond. Activity under excitement, on the solitary condi- tion that it be lawful, is wholesome. Vital force must be disposed of just as food must be digested, otherwise, it is consuming to the organs in which it glows. Look at those little children! Here you see whole- some types and prophesies of manhood. They love to do things under excitement. They seek it. They must have it. They hanker for games which involve opposition, often very intense, and, therefore, very exciting. They crave activities, which are the expressions of aroused feelings and inflamed spirits. Now, is not this a wholesome dictate of nature? And do not those men make a mistake who suppose that an imperturbable calm isthe best condition of body and mind? And does not the well-known fact that the quietest pursuit (farming), and the quietest religious sect (the Friends), furnish the largest pro- portion of instances of mental derangement, prove that nature protests against all efforts at guarding the body and mind from every exciting experience? A late scientific statement informs us that an idiotic brain has too little phesphorous, and the in- sane brain has too much. The one is a stagnant pond, and the other is a wild, tearing freshet. Which would yourather be? There may not be much to choose between. Still, there are many insane, who become sane again; but a wooden ee remains a wooden head to the end of the chap- er. It may be acommon impression that excitements lead to insanity, but the truth is, that of the occu- pants of our insane asylums, the most numerous class came from the farming population—as a rule, dull plodders who have had very little to excite them, or stir their brains to unwonted activity. Indeed, if we had a friend who was a little queer, we would prescribe a little varied excitement. But just here, if we would do ourselves justice, we must inake an important distinction. There is a deal of difference between what may be called natural and unnatural excitements. Stimu- lants, resorted to to neutralize a stagnation in our life, are unnatural, and therefore injurious. On the other hand, those are healthful excitements which arise in the course of an educational training, and such as belong to the great battle of life. We have seen a rightly ambitious young man grow as excited over a difficult problem, as another over a fight. It is a capital thing that obstacles are put in our way. They are enemies challenging us to a contest, and if we have the true manhood within us, we will roll up our sleeves and ‘go in.” Itis fortunate that sticks sometimes fly up and hit us in the face. It makes our blood boil, and blood is one of the things which is better for the boiling. We all believe that tiriys are not the better for being raw, and araw man is one whose eyes have never snapped from excitement and the pluck which rise at the presence of difficulties, and whose lines of character have never been drawn and carved out by the chisels and mallets in the hands of life’s manly foes—those healthful foes that are cannibals to fools, but game to the earnest and the wise. We talk about men being stranded, but there are many others who are as Well made ship-hulls, still resting on the stays. What they need is some great crisis, or some excitement at least, to launch them. They are useless, or nearly so, as they are fixed in their ship houses. ; It is true that some don’t pay tolaunch. They will go to the bottom after all your pains, and to begin by breaking a bottle over the prow is a bad emblem and adire prophecy. ‘ A young tailor, miserably paid, sitting over his goose, hearing a noise in the street, looked out of the window of the shop, and saw a war-fleet sailing grandly in sight. He sprang from his cross-legged position; rushed to the shore; seized a boat; rowed out to the flag-ship; offered his services; was ac- cepted, and thus enlisted to serve the greatest naval power of the world- Years after this incident, he re- visited his native isle as the world-renowned Admiral Hobson, and ate his dinner of pork and beans in the same little cottage from which, on that memorable day, he had been launched by thatsudden excitement. Sometimes the launching is done by the excite- ment of a story of history or fiction. If it bea bad story, he may be launched downward; if it be a good story, wherein virtue meets its reward and vice its punishment, or if if be such asis naturally redo- lent of the whoiesome excitements of life, he may be launched upward. Just here many wield the bludgeon of a blind pro- test against all the excitements of fiction. But there is the record of more than one eminent and useful man, who confesses that Robinson Crusoe was the exciting story which aroused his soul to a noble Cassi of heroic endeavor in the great battle of ife. It is true that fiction may be abused. Some feed onit. But these are the unwise. A fever is some- times needed (so tell us the doctors) to cast out the foe from the system, and the man is all the ealthier and stronger for the burning excitement, and he enjoysa more natural appetite, and a more through digestion and process of assimilation for the experience through which he has passed. The subject is well worth the study. We would, we believe, be the healthier and stronger boys and girls, men and women, had we a well-devised system of healthful excitement, not only in the ordinary courses of life, but during our hours of leisure and recreation, And the more natural these are, the more they are out of doors, and the more they com- bine entertainment for the mind along with active, though not too severe, exercise for the body and all its muscles, the better it will be forthe development and solidification of the whole man. aii @-diiees The Eadie! Work-Box, Edited by Mrs. Helen Wood. ‘ ‘S$ FANCIES. Striped ribbons are in great favor. Traveling gloves slip over the hand without buttons. Velvet will be much used this winter for the straight directoire gowns that are without drapery. White cashmere house toilets, for early fall, are prettily trimmed with oriental galloon in cashmere colors. Fall bonnets are shown made of strips of pinked felt, sewed together precisely like straw braid is sewed for summer hats. Open-faced watches are again in vogue, and as the crys- tals are now made very thick, they are quite as durable as the hunting-cases. A pretty sailor suit for a little girl of six years is made of cardinal-red serge, feather-stitched with white, and worn with a soft hat of white felt. The ee of light wool will be worn to a great ex- tent all through the fall, in its varying character ofa dust cloak, traveling cloak, and cloa rain. The Alpine hat of soft felt is a favorite between-season hat for ladies, as it now comes in the dark colors, while those most favored have rows of tiny pointed slits cut in the felt, through which a silk cord is inserted. All shades of red are popular for children’s dresses. Shawl-shaped fichus of China crape, in delicate tints, trimmed profusely with lace, are popular for dressy wear. BKnotted silk fringes, after having been out of fashion to protect from 7 for some years, will be used again this winter, and they come in colors to match the handsomest imported silks. New dress goods are shown in solid colors with stripes, plaids, and checks formed by different kinds of weaving, reseda, sage-green, terra-cotta, suede, silver-gray, and gobelin-blue being the leading colors. Three Greek fillets of jet, French gilt, or silver, are banded across the top of small bonnets, with puffs of vel- vet between, and it is thought this-style of bonnet will become very popular. A nun’s cloak of soft wool lined with shot silk, reaching to the skirt hem and tied with moire ribbon, is added to most traveling costumes. When the dress is of plain mo- hair, the cloak is often of hair-striped wool. _Long ostrich plumes are shown for fall hats with one side of the quill dyed one color and one another, while one side is also curled under, and the other side over. These feathers are very beautiful in some of the new shades of green, particularly ‘‘serpent” and ‘“‘snow-ball.” Imported felt crowns, shaped like the straw crowns of last spring, are shown for making toques and turbans One stylish design of gobelin blue felt is eighteen inches in diameter and pinked around the edge, while pointed sunflowers are cut out at intervals all over it, and the open spaces backed with net the same shade, upon these being smaller sunflowers of felt with beaded centers. The effect is excellent, and this crown is to be used over a frame bound deeply with velvet. Kid gloves for autumn and winter are shown in neutral tan shades, old mode colors, bright tans, pale silver-grays, iron-grays, and clear medium grays. Gloves for street wear are shown with plain and embroidered backs, but the embroidery is now reduced to the medium width and is wrought either in black or the color of the glove. Dressed kid gloves are used only for the promenade, and are imported almost exclusively in button style, with four or six buttons. Suede gloves for street or carriage wear are imported also in four and six buttons. Mous- quetaire gloves, in suede color for evening wear, range from six button length to a glove long enough to reach to the shoulder. The principal colors are pale tans, pearl- grays, and cream-white, while light tan will again be the reigning color for evening wear during the season. The newest fashion in hair-dressing is a flat coil of small braids, wound pancake fashion against the back of the head, though a small round coil, low on the neck, but not resting on the collar, is more generally becoming, while the high arrangements still prevail. For the even- ing toilet it is probable that the bang has received its death-blow, and it would not be surprising if a bare fore- head were exhibited this winter by many women who can do it with impunity. A coming style calls fora small soft roll, over which the front hair is carried up in waves, the ends being coiled and fastened in roun#l, wavy loops with small, gold or amber combs, while a curl or two is allowed to fall on the forehead, but not soas to hide the brow. With such a coiffure, the hair dresser twists the back hair intoa French roll, coiling the ends loosely on top, while for occasions calling for more elaborate arrange- ment, as many puffs, twists, and loops as the mindof man ever devised are intricately entwined. Miss Mamie L.—The latest French plates show evening dresses made with a long train, low, decollete, round bodices, and tiny short sleeves, or elbow sleeves. These elbow sleeves are no longer made to cling to the arm, but are loose, with a pointed piece of lace, or other trimming, -extending down from the shoulder to the elbow, to give a winged effect. The petticoat front of dresses with bro- caded trains is frequently draped with mull, caught up with garlands of roses. Jabots of wide lace often extend down the sides of the dress where the train meets the petticoat, and wide frills of lace are effectively used on other parts of the toilet. While it is anticipated by many importers that trains will be introduced even as dancing dresses, if seems almost impossible that so inconvenient an innovation can be accepted by the American women after they have become accustomed to the convenience of short dresses for dancing, and we therefore cannot pre- dict, with any certainty, to what extent trained dresses will be received, while there are many short silk dresses shown for afternoon-tea dresses, church costumes, and for all occasious of less dressy wear. Gussie, Albany, N. Y.—There are many delicate shades of green shown among evening silks, and cresson, reed, and such shades of green are seen in grounds and in com- bination with other colors. Beaten gold, rose pink, the delicate shade of the wild rose, pale blues, Turkish red, crimson, apricot, flame colors, Russian green, chestnut and golden brown, dark purple, seal brown, and rosewood shades are also fashionable colors, while several tones of color are often seen in the same material. Constant Reader.—The necks of handsome dresses are again finished with a knife-plaiting of lace, which is turned down all around. It may be sewed at the top of the standing collar and then carried down the front of the dress- waist, or it can be made to simply finish the neck without any collar, the fronts being slightest pointed in V-shape, to disclose the throat. Miss Mamie McD.—ist. The price of the short rubber gloves is $1.25, and the long ones $1.50 a pair. 2nd. We can send you a small work on short-hand, entitled, “The Phonographic Teacher,” for thirty cents. Pleasant Paragraphs. An Indignant Mother. A somewhat unpolished mother of a very charm- ing daughter was recently heard to say: “T don’t intend lettin’ Emily go back to Madame Waring’s school. They don’t teach ’em right. Now, I don’t know so very much myself, but I never would tell my child that IX spells nine. It’s absviutely ridiculous.” - Too Big a Pile. ats say, Dumley,” said Brown, ‘‘can you lend me 0 9 “Forty dollars!” exclaimed Dumley, with a gasp. “Why, my dear friend, if I had $40 to lend I wouldn’t be sober enough to count it out.” A Double-Meaning Expression. Mrs. Jones—‘*‘Don’t trouble to see me to the door, Mrs. Smith.” Mrs. Smith—“No trouble; quite a pleasure, I as- sure you.” ‘ Her Last Chance. An irate woman entereda dry-goods store the other day and accosted one of the clerks: “ve come to find out what you mean by charging me a dollar Saturday night for that table spread, and selling Mrs. Ferguson ove just like it on Monday tor sixty cents. Didn’t yousay it was my last chance to get one so cheap?” “You inistook me, madam,” responded the ready clerk; “I said it was your last chance to get one for adollar. And it was};for we put them down to sixty cents Monday morning.” Unnecessary Worry. It was getting late when the girl said, shyly: “You look worried about something, Mr. Harkin- ton.” “Tam,” he replied. ‘I have in my pocket a $50,000 package of government bonds, which I foolishly for- got to deposit to-day, and—and aside from that I—I love you so devotedly, Miss Schermerhorn, I am afraid to learn wy fate.” ‘‘As for the bonds, Mr. Harkinton,” replied the girl, with a business air, ‘‘papa has a safe in the house; and regarding the—the other matter, why—wbhy, I think so many of us are apt to borrow trouble, Mr. Harkinton.” lts Leaving Time. Patient Old Lady (to elevator boy reading novel)— “How often does the elevator go up, boy?” Elevator Boy—‘It goes up at the end of every chapter, ma’am.” A Chance for a Little Brother. Small Brother—‘Where did you get that cake, Annie ?”’ Small Sister—‘‘Mother gave it to me.” Small Brother—‘‘Ah, she always gives you more than me.” Small Sister—‘‘Never mind; she’s going to. put mustard plasters on us when we goto bed to-night, and I’ll ask her to let you have the biggest.” A Misunderstanding. Indignant Citizen—*When I bought this horse you told me that with a little training he would make a first-class animal for the track.” Horse Dealer—‘‘And so he will.” Citizen—‘‘I tried him yesterday, and he was seven- teen minutes trotting a mile.” Horse Dealer—‘Oh, I didn’t mean a race-track, friend. I meant a street-car track.” A Question in Relationship. Grandpa—‘ Well, Fred, you’re an uncle now; you ought to be real proud over it.” Little Fred—‘‘No, I oughtn’t to. Grandpa—“Why not?” Little Fred—‘*’Cause ’manaunt, The new baby’s @ girl.” T ain't no uncle.” Proof of Love. “T tell you, Susie, that I will commit suicide if you won’t have me.” ‘‘Well, Thomas, as soon as you have given me that proof of your affection I will believe that you love me.” Consolation for a Young Mother. Young Mother (to elderly lady-visitor)—‘‘Don’t you think the baby looks very much like his father ?”’ ady—Yes,[ do; but I wouldn't worry—he may outgrow it.” He’s the Young Man. Tubbley (bashfully, and removing his hat spasmod- ically)—‘‘Is Miss Tremmer in ?”’ Maid—‘She is, but she’s engaged.” Tubbley (who settled things last night)—“‘I know it; I’m the young man,” Regretting the Engagement. Emma (to her fiance)—Just think, Edgar, that rich old man, Dr. James, who knows nothing of our en- gagement, asked me this morning to be his wife.” Edgar—‘What answer did you give him?” Emma—‘T told him I regretted exceedingly that I was previously engaged.” (A sudden coolness between the lovers.) A Disappointed Undertaker. Citizen (to undertaker)—“I thought, Mr, Mould, that you were going off on a vacation ?” : Undertaker—‘“‘l did intend to start over a month ago, but old Mrs, Bentley was taken dangerously ill, and I’ve been sort of hanging on, and” (in a low, in- jured tone of voice) ‘‘I’ll be blamed, sir, if she ain’t getting better.” Some Sound Advice. Customer (in restaurant)—Gimme some broiled chicken, waiter, and as ’mina big hurry, you had better bring it cold.” Waiter—‘“If yuse in a big hurry, sah, I wud advise yo’ to take it hot.” ‘“‘Customer—*Why ?” Waiter—‘‘Kase it’ll take er long time fo’ dat chicken to cool, sah.” Qualified for the Choir. Minister—‘‘Your daughter is very handsome, Mr. Snapper.” Snapper—“‘Yes, she is. join the church choir.” Minister—‘‘That’s good. Is she a fine vocalist ?” Snapper—“She can’t sing at all, but she’s gota devil of a temper.” I’m thinking of having her After Examining the Writing. Old Lady (to village postmistress)—“Hev ye got anythin’ fer me, Miss Bullard ?” Postmistress—Here’s a postal from your daughter Mandy. How she do improve in spellin’ sence she’s be’n goin’ to that boardin’-school.” Humorous Brevities. _ A genius who knows one of the church’s needs has invented a contribution-box that rings a bell every time asuspender button is dropped in. This will sadl curtail some men’s Gharity account, but the churc won’t lose anything by it. Mistress—“‘Jane, Willie informs me that my hus- band kissed you yesterday.’’ Jane—‘‘Oh, that’s all right, ma’am—lI’ve got used to it now.” “When lovely woman buys a polly, Which she designs shall talk and pray, How shocked is she, and melancholy, To find the parrot swears all day.” Rich Chinamen go to Tartary for their wives, their wealth enabling them to secure the very cream of Tartary. In the human race the butcher holds the steaks. Mother—“Tommy, ain’t you ashamed of yourself to strike your little sister? You ought to know bet- ter. Tommy—‘Yes, ma, I do; but we’re playing school and I’m the teacher. It’s all right. “IT never can be more than a sister to you,” said a buxom widow, tenderly, to anold bachelor who had proposed. ‘Ah, madam, yes, you can,” he responded, gallantly. “I am nota man to lose hope.” “Yes, but I cannot,” she persisted. ‘But,’ he said, “you week daughters; you may yet be my mother-in- aw.’ The street-car of the future may be run after more scientific principles ; but the street-car of the passed is run after most eagerly now. Working like a horse—A lawyer drawing a convey- ance. Aman makes his maiden speech when he asks a young girl to marry him. A young artist who lives in a boarding-house wants to know how he can learn to play the violin without disturbing the other boarders. Soap your bow, young man, and bathe the strings twice a day in sweet oil. They won’t complain much then. A Vermont horse-fancier’s daughter, Betsy, by name, having reached a marriageable age, her father wrote familiarly to an old friend, ‘Bets offered, but no takers as yet.” He—“‘What would you say, dear,if I should say that you’were a harp of a thousand strings?” She— “T should think, love, that you were a lyre.” : “And so your sister really said last night that. she thought I was a little daisy, did she, Bobby?’ asked Featherly, striving to hide his exultation. ‘ Yes,” responded Bobby, ‘‘and pa said that he shouldn’t be “ty ach as he had often seen you a little dazy him- self. A farmer in Western New York declares that he saw a ghost eating green apples in his orchard the other night. Now, if we hear of a case of cholera in phantom in Western New York, we shall know what caused it. 2 a en 8 Items of Interest, An ambitious Russian, by aneat stroke of enter- prise, has become a potentate ona small scale. At his own expense, this man, whose name is Ashinoff, sur- rounded himself with an army of one thousand Abys- sinians. They are officered by about a hundred Russians. With these he conquered about twenty miles of territory on the east coast of Africa, and announced himself as chief of the kingdom. The native king from whom he had stolen the land again tried conclusions with him by force of arms; and once more the Russian invader thrashed the African chief, who immediately thereafter acknowledged the Russian as a full-tledged king. In 1867, when the United States paid $7,200,000 for Alaska, there was much complaint at this seemingly use- less expense for an unprofitable territory. Itis now au- thoritatively stated that during the time the Alaska Fur Seal Company has had the privilege of taking seals from the waters of that territory it has paid over $8,000,000 to the Government, or a sum far exceeding the price paid for the whole of Alaska. Upon the Customs Department of Toronto has de- volved the duty of deciding upon the authenticity of the Mormon Bible. If really a Bible, the duty to be levied upon it is but five per cent., but if not a Bible, it is a mere book, taxable at the rate of fifteen per cent. The depart- ment has levied the higher duty, thus practically deter- mining that the work is no revelation, but the production of human intellect. It is quite a common thing for a Chinese merchant, when importing diamonds from Cuba to San Francisco, to place the precious stones in his mouth when the Cus- tom-House officials search him. If the examination chances to be toorigid he swallows the stones, and when released follows them up with an emetic, which speedily brings them to light again. A huge rattlesnakein Adams’ Park, Ga., saw a half- intoxicated darkey, getting out oak staves, and conceived the notion that the African would be an easy prey. The snake cautiously crawled toward and bounded upon him. Almost instantly the snake died. For two days the darkey was laid up, and then coolly resumed work. Twenty-five lively crocodiles recently escaped into the river Elbe from an African sailing vessel. The croco- diles are thought to be enjoying their new home very much, but the German small boys who live along the banks of the river are unhappy because they can’t go swimming. A New York pastor soine time since sought finan- cial help for an important charity. Among those whom he asked to give something was a lady who, unfortunately, bore a vinegary face. She declined to give money, but promised to “lend her countenance” to the cause. He re- tired in dismay. The biggest boy inthe United States, for his age, which is ten years, is Melbourne Grubb, who lives near Wyethville, Va. He measures 47 inches around the waist, 44 around the chest, 24 around the thigh, and 13 around the muscle of the arm. He is 5 feet 2 inches high and weighs 210 pounds. Fright caused an Atlanta woman to faint while she was bathing. She imagined her eyes beheld a sea monster, when in reality it was only her husband’s feet. The old gentleman was merely floating feet foremost toward the shore. Senator Stanford, of California, is determined that his tomb will entirely eclipse any similar structure. The plans have been approved, and the expense fixed— $250,000. Every conceivable ornamentation in the way of sepulchral art is to be lavished upon it. A party of students from the University of Cali- fornia have made money during the summer vacation in a way far superior to waiting at table in summer hotels. They camped out in Vaca Valley, and earned good wages by helping to handle the fruit crop. Among the residents of Salem, Mass., is Frank E. Vistorato, who, when he was a lad, was one of the twelve hundred Greeks that, under Marco Bozzaris, made the famous charge at Carpenisi, in August, 1823, Mrs. Ellen Creeden Lynch, of Salem, Mass., has just celebrated her 104th birthday. Charles King, of Middleton, in the same county, is three years older, being in his 107th year. Girls do not have to go to school in China, but the boys must. The latter begin their school duties at the age of six. The school sessions last from daylight until dark, and there are no vacations. Five thousand wild orange trees, from Florida, are to be planted in the streets of Sacramento, to afford shade. An adroit thief in Washington picked the pocket of a policeman who was conveying him to the station- house. Mustaches are becoming unpopular in London.