STEADFASTNESS.
tVaste not the present hoar in rain regret
k For prizes forfeited In davs cone bv: ...
r It naught avails for fair winds lost to sigh
Or mourn the glow of suns forever set;
. pntomb thy past, bid memory forget
. The fixed and changing years that rear-
. ward lie;
. Charge but thy constant soul with pur
poeohigh,
And life shall cede thee of its treasures yet.
the Now is thine, a goodly battlefield
thereon all past defeats redeemed may
be;
fight bravely on and vanquished foes will
. yield . "v ' ' . . - .. .
Thy valiant sword a path to victory, "
. His cowards droop and moan, "It might
have been P
t yet shall be,' the steadfast cry, and
s 'Win.'.'."
Donahoe'a Magazine.
A GENUINE SURPRISE
BY HAItRT GANUK3.
HE station at
Swampy Cor
'ncrs was never a
picturesque
spot, even in
the blue glow
of the sunniest
June day; but
on this chill
October night,
with ' the first
iuowflakes of the season eddying in the
low, undecided .way that first snow
' flakes have, through the gray ' air, and
the tall hemlocks swaying this way and
that in the raw wind, it looked especially
Idreary.
! Emily Elkton shuddered as sho stood
looking out of one of the panes of glass
clumsily inserted in ; the long frame
work by way of window.
"No, Miriam," she said, "you can't
EC" ' ,i
j "But I've got to go I" said Miriam
JRIudge, sympathetically compressing hor
lips as she tightened th straps of the
parcel she was fastening one notch at a
time.:
"And leave me here alone?'.
"Nobody won't hurt you, I reckon,"
paid Miriam, a strong-featured woman
of forty, with a bristling upper Up like
a man's.
j "If you go,"said Emily, "HI go too t"
(Miriam, "thar ain't room in Pete MuU
ler's buckboard for so much as a sheet
o', paper arter mo and him's in. Besides,
,wb it'll your Uncle Absolom say when he
comes back and finds nobody here. Ef
Itbl fire goes out, everything'll freezo
fetiff, and Yes, Pete, I'm a-comin';
thar ain't no need to stand there a-bel-lerinV
like a Texas steer! Good-bye,
iEmilyl Ob, I forgot ("coming back,
iand mechanically lowering her voice,
although there was no one but the gray
pat by the stove to overhear the words.
'"The ticket money and two rolls o' gold
eagles as the paymaster's call fox Jo
xnorrer in tho noon train is ixr the red
'chest under your uncle's bed. I
rockoncd it 'ud be safer thar than in the'
money-drawer. Don't forget to give it
to him fust thing he gets back."
. "Forget 1" echoed Emily, .wringing
per hands in frantic desperation. "But
I won't be left in charge of itl ; I'll as
eurne co such responsibility. 1 insist
upon your taking it with you!"
1 The remonstrance, however came too
late. Miriam bawled out some indis
tinct reply and the next sound Mis3 Elk
ton heard was the creaking of the buck
board wagon as it turned the sharp curve
below the gleaming line of the railway
awitches. ' ' -
"She's gone," cried Emily, claspiojz
her nands like the tragic muse, "and left
one alone with all that money 1 And tho
(navy camp only three miles up the moun
jtains; full of Italians and Chinese and the
tenners at Lake Lodi ' and the whole
neighborhood infested with desperadoes!
And Uncle Absalom not expected home
until two o'clock in the morning, and
(tbe bolt broken oil the door, and the
key' a misfit, and , nothing hut a hook
and staple between ma and destruction!
Ob, why didn't I stay in Rhode Island?
- uuu DTlt Ofik iu vwvwv w.
out here to Dakota, where one might as
well be buried alive and done with itl" '
I Emily Elkton eat down and cried
Vntrtftv rnrkinr- hprsclf forward and
...tMj, o ;- v
iiick and sobbing out aloud, like a child
Vw'Lose slice of bread and treacle had been
t aken away frdm it. And not until the
candle flared up, mtb. an extra -sized
.windinT sheet" wrapped around its
wick and the cat tubbed, itself, persist
e Uy c v'-lnst her knee, she arousato
mi:'.
supper, tho Are was low, the candle
needed snuffing and there was no sort of
uso In tears.
. . .
Emily had come out West, partly be
causo there seemed nothing to do at
home and partly becauso Undo Absalom
had written that one of his nino nieces
would come very handy for a house
keeper at Swampy Corners, in the State
of Dakota, if she could be spared.
The latter sentence was intended on
his part for a sarcasm, but the Elkton
family had received it all in good faith
and held many a deliberation before they
consented to let one of the nino young
birds flutter out of tho home nest.
.And more especially she had come be
cause she 'had incidentally learned that
Andrew Markham was ono of the en
gineers in charge of tho now line of rail
way on the other slopo of the mountain.
which undertaking involved the navvy
camp and tho great derricks and steam
drills and the gans of slit oyed Chinese
and dark browvd Italians.
"Not that that signifies," Emily had
plausibly told herself. , "But, of course,
it's pleasant to be somewhere within a
hundred miles of an old acquaintance."
Andrew Markham had been to see her
twice, and both times she had made up
her mind that the far West was the only
place to live in.
"He expects to settle here," she
thought, with a soft, pink color suffusing
her face. ' "He says he has already
bought a sunny slope of land, where he
means to build a house and bring a wife
when he can afford it. Hirtbinks that
life here means twice what it does in thd
effete civilization of the East.'
But to-night, with the darkness wrap
ping tho little depot like a blanket, and
the wind howling down the mountain
gorge, Miss Elkton would not at all have
objected to some of that samo "effete
civilization."
Alone in the house ! During the whole
of her sojourn at Swampy Corners such
a thing had never happened to her . be
fore. . ' .'.
Uncle Absalom had occasionally been
absent, it was true, but Miriam Mudge
was always there to bear her company
until his .return. Now that a sudden
summons from her father, hurt in an ac-'
cident in the saw mill on Ragged River,
six mites below, had called Miriam away,
poor Emily was all in a flutter.
True, the one train a day which stopped
at the station was not due until seven in
the morning. The telegram office was
closed, and there was absolutely no caro
for her to assume except' to put another
log of wood on the air tight store and
go quietly to bed.
But the very sen&e of solitude appalled
her. She shivered at the very click of
the snow flakes azaiost the window, tho
crack of the boards in the floor, the slow'
drip of the water into the kitchen sink,
where Uncle Absalom had recently in
troduced the modern improvement of a
water tap,' connected by pipes with the
spring in the spruce glen above.
"Why couldn't Miriam have stopped
at one of the neighbors' houses and sent
sonic one to keep mo company!" she re
pined. .Andrew says there are some
nice girls at' Almondsley, down the
mountain, and he said he'd like to intro
duce me to Marietta Mix, who teaches j.
Sunday-school in the South Cleating,
and, does typo writing for the company j
on week days. I'm sorry, now that t j
tossed my head, , and put on air3, and f
said .1 did not care to mingle in the so
cicty hereabouts. I must have appeared:
hateful enough. Gracious, what was
that?"
It was the clock striking nine, and
then Emily remembered that she had no ,
supper. Nervously glancing around her,
she tip-toed to the cupboard, and took a
glass of milk and a little bread-and- "
cheese. As she replaced the tumbler on '
the shelf she heard footsteps - on the
frazen ground outside.
"It's my imagination," she said, after
listening for a second. 'But I won't be
frightened so. I will be . brave," , She ,
took a hatchet, and sallying .forth,
opened the cellar-door. . "If anyone
comes he'll sail down there before he caa
get to the door," said she.
And with two prodigious slash) of
the hatchet she cut away the board rath
which led rcross a series of rugged bould 1
era to the railway platform.
"There," she cried, hurrying back to",'
the inside warrntii and brightness, as if
a whole brigade of pursuera were at "her j
heels,".VthfltY doner I feel safer now.
But I must hang tho lantern out befen
TJnclevAbsalpm cornel back, I don't
want him to "fall. '"down aal brci'i LLa
She had just seated herself with a sigh
of relief when something like a bi 9 re
fly blazed on her vision for a brief ioo
ond only ; then it was gone.
"A dark lantern!" she said to herself.
"I am sure now that I hear the sound of'
feet on the platform. ' There are two or
three people there perhaps more. They
have learned that J am alone with all
that money!" She clasped , her hands
oyer her eyes, and shivered as sho heard
a crash, a smothered exclamation, a sup
pressed buzz of voices, "Some one has
fallen down the cellar! Oh, how for
tunate it was I thought of that!'?
And ; now a " low whisper; came up
through the carelessly-joined boards of
the floor. She could distinguish the
words, "Hold on I Be careful I The
frontdoor is fastened, for I .tried it.
You can all of you get down cellar, and
come tip that way.",
v Emily's heart gave an exultant jump.
The cellar door, a ' mass of timber in
which she had the fullest confidence, was
securely bolted. She peered out into
the stormy darkness. By the occasion
ally displayed gleam of the lantern she
could see a huddled mass of figures
creeping down the cellar steps.
Last of all disappeared the lantern it
self, one' leisurely step at a time; and
then, consummating a plan which she
had long been concocting in her mind.
Emily made a dash out into the night,
closed the two divisions of the cellar
door with a bang, barred them, and fled
panting into the house. ;, f
By this time there was a brisk knock
ing at the cellar door, a crying out of,
."Open the door! Let us in!"
.. But to these calls Emily Elkton paid
no heed, and it was only when a hand
wtwf ssMonly' laid on' her shoulder from
behind that she uttered . a piercing
scream and lost all her presence of mind,
"Why, Emmy!" exclaimed a famtliar
voice. "Why, child, what's the matter!"
j "Oh, Uncle Absalom, how you fright-
ened meJ Oh. dear, the cellar is full of
burglars and robbers! Ueach down your
gun! j Get the hot-water kettle !"
"Burglars, eh?" said Uncle Absalom.
"Robbers t Why, whar on yarth did
they come from! Sure ye ain't mistook,
sissy! Anyhowf, Til be ready for 'em."
He advanced tovard the cellar door
with his loadecf revolver in his hand.
"Whoever ye be," he shouted, ''tell
us what your business is or take this!
Don't hold my arxo, sissy ! There can't
no more'n one at a time come up these
ere cellar stairs, and I reckon I'm a
match for that , much, if I be old an
stiff!" ,
To Emily's Infinite alarm he unbolted
the cellar door and flung it wide open.
b There, crowding on the narrow wood
en stops, stood Andrew Markham, the
Miss " Almonnslevs. Lconidas Mix and
Sister Marietta, and Dr. Cliffe's two chub
by daughters..
"We came," said Markham, rather
shamefacedly, "to give Miss Elkton a
birthday surprise. We're sorry that"
"Walk in walk in 1" cried Uncle Ab
salom, his face one full moon of broad
miles, . "No need of bein sorry for
nothin. You're all welcome t now ooj
arth did ye know it'iras Emmy's twen.j
tieth birthday!" ,
"Marietta has baked a cake, said
Leonidas, and' the Cliffe girls brought
a jug of lemonade, and it was broken
when I tumbled down cellar, and ;
"Oh, that don't matter none!" beamed
Uncle Absalom, We're awful pleased
to sea you ain't we. Emily!"
Inxthis auspicious manner began Em
ily Eikton'a first acquaintance with the
young people who were destined to be
her lifelong neighbors.
But really," said sho, half crying,
half laughing, "I thought you were all
banditti."
"It's all my fault," acknowledged
honest Marietta Mix. ,"I.was deter
mined that, you should have a surprise.
Andrew wasn't half, willing, but I in
sisted. You see, I didnt think there
would ever be any other way of getting
acquainted with you, .Miss Elkton. And
we' knew that Andrew was so interested
in you. . . ;
"Nonsense!" cried Emily, blushing.
"Is it nonsense, though!" retorted
Marietta. "Well, time will show."
And time dH show. - Sit months af
terwardbut, after all, where is the use
of turning over tho leaves of the book of
fate! ' Let all true lovers guess for them
selves how tho matter ended.
Bat,"" Emily acknowledged in ier
turn, "I never was so mghUned in all
rkj life as at first and never bo happy as
aa at wji. .
kr. l sho never retarded to town life.
YcrkMerccry, ";-
Origin of Our Alphabit.
It may now be taken as an accented
fact that emblematic signs preceded
articulated language and even aided in
Its formation. In: support of such a
hypothesis we need only recall the de
signs which were intended to represent
reindeer and other animals, and trees
and plants, and which were traced by
early historians it they miy. be so
designated, on tho horn of the mammoth,
and the still more recent discovery of
designs of a similar character on teeth
which belonged in their pristine con
dition to somo cave bear of the palasj-
logical period.'
In its development writing began with
the drawing of material objects, and de
veloped later in the representation of
ideas by means of tho ideographic signs,
afterwards resulting in a sort' of alpha
bet. The Chinese characters and the.
various sorts of cuniform characters
which border upon the purely alphabetic
writing of the Persiuns furnish an ex
ample of this. ' 1
In the Eighth Century the Assyrian
mode of writing was adopted by the
tribes tributary to that, power, and the
adoption t becoming general, various
modifications were male; but the first of
any importance was that of reducing a
character by the expression of a single
sound it ceased to be polyphonic and
remained syllabic as a result. The
Persians, when they borrowed the sylla
bic signs, attributed the alphabetic
character to them, such as b for bu or
ba. - , .'
The history of the hieroglyphics of
Egypt proves that the alphabets of the
East are derived from the Egyptienne-
hieratio and cursive writing. Tue
genealogy of our alphabet goes up again
to the Latins and from the Greeks to tbe
Phoenicians, who are of the same race as
the Hykos or king-shepherds who con
quered and-governed Ejvpt from the
fifteenth to . tbe Seventeenth dynasty.
These strangers took in hand the study
and the perfection, at least to confined
practical use, of the hieroglyphics the
Egyptians had neglected to make much
use of. i .
It is to these wandering Phoenicians
that we are indebted for our alphabet.
Their commercial instincts ' told them of
the immense value of such a system to
the Egyptians, but, instead of mastering
everything they could in this matter,
they only kept those which belonged
exclusively to their own affairs. Setting
aside the ideographic signs, syllabic and
determinatives, their practical sense
made them adopt the twenty-one char
ters from which our alphabet has been
taken. British Printer.
A Mlsnndjrsltnilng.
' There is a funny story told In the
United States Senate of the mutatta
by a member of that body at the time
of General Anson McCook's marriajo
some half dozen years ago. Senator
Dolph undertook to get up a subscrip
tion for a suitable wedding present, and,
offering the paper to ono of his colleagues
who was somewhat deaf, explained the
case and asked for what amount he
might ,put his namo down in! tho list.
The Senator from Oregon was some
what nonplussed and considerably nettled
to meet with a point-blank refusal. The
affair was the more inexplicable as the
Senator of whom the contribution was
desired was known to be a warm per
sonal friend of General McCook. Liter
in the day the uituation was uncon
sciously explained by the offending Sena
tor, who remarked to a group or his
friends: "What tbe deuce do you sup
pose Dolph means! : Ho came to me to
day, and after telling me that his cook
was going to be married, actually asked
me to contribute for a wedding present."
Kate Field's Washington.
Cemtflnfl History. ,
It te asserted on soemingly credibly
authority that Nelson never gave the
famous order, "England expects every
man to do his duty." He gave one very
much like it, but without the ring of tha
other. An Englishman, I whose fathar
was secretary to. Captain Hardy and was
aboard the Victory when . Nelson fell,
KtKjt he has the best authority -for saying
that Nelson's order was, "The com
niander-in-chie! expects that every man
this day will do his duty." The flag
officer was unaMe to transmit this com
mand quick. "eiough, and at the sug
pesVloa of tbe !ate . uit it was filtered to
"England exacts every man ta do his
"lNOMBER ONE."
Self-preservation is the
first law of natures,
Some Cnrlons Forms of This Defbn
ire Instinct In Big and' Little '.
Animals That are Nat
urally Timid.
1 EC0GNTZ1NG the Impossibility
't of bridging every stream and
Jl-JL. working a million miracles to
. keep fire from burning and
passion from flaming, Nature has pre
ferred the simple alternative of endow
ing her creatures with the instinct of
self-preservation a tendenoy which,
under certain circumstances, may take
the form of self-revenge. Nine out of
ten species of animals avoid danger by
flight, but community interests and other
considerations compel the remaining
tenth to abide the arbitrament of battle,
and without t e dread of their defensive
valor some of the most useful kinds of
insects would havo become utterly ex
tinct. j Ants, the restless scavengers of
tbe wilderness, will attack the disturber
of their domicile with a fury that deters
even tho greedy boar and the insect
eating baboons of the Nubian hill coun
try. Termites permit themselves, to be
torn iO pieces rather than loosen their
bulldog grip upon tho hide of a foe, and
the hive bee assails intruders at the im
minent risk of losing her life togcthor
with hersting. " - s
Some forms of that defensive instinct
have become curiously specialized. Tbe
little capuchin monkeys of tl e Brazilian
forests are so timid that they scamper
'away at the mere rustling of a leaf, but
experience has taught them that flight
offers no .chance of salvation from the
pursuit of a winged enemy, and at th
first glimpse of a harpy eagle a swarm
of capv cinos will huddle : together and
shriek out their defiance with an empha
sis that really makes the hovering mur
derer reconsider his projeet. If he does
risk a swoop a dozen pair of hands will
grab him at once, and clutching at his'
throat and his wings soon fill the air
with a whirl of flying feathers, not un
mixed with fur, while the screams of the
combatants bring up ring-tailed allies
from all parts of the woods till the
would-be assassin is glad to get away
with tbe loss of half his plumage.
A still more interesting cas of that
kind was observed in the zoological gar
den of Cologne. A species of wild
goat, the capra ruppeli, haunts the rocks
of the Abyssiaian highlands and man
ages to hold its own against all enemies,
with the exception of tbe fleet-footed
mountain jackal, an adversary whose co
operative tactics and keenness of scent
makes flight unavailing and have led the
capras to the conclusion that under cer
tain circumstances valor may be the bet
ter part of discretion. The yelp of an
approaching horde of jackals is there
fore a signal of instant rally on the part
of the goats.- The nannies crowd
around their kids, and the bucks rash
forward en masse, butting away .with a
rage that lays out a yelper at every
spring, and makes the survivors stand
back howling and cowering. They had
oo jackals in tbe Cologne Zoo, but thoir
capra buck somehow seemed to recog-
nize the relationship of his hereditary
foe to the genus canis, and at sight of a :
dog be would fly. into a paroxysm of
rage, rushing up and down his enclos
ure, making frantic springs at the fence
and getting evidently crazed with impa
tience to try conclusions with the cousla
of the Abyssinian kid killers.
Professor Mivart proved that then are
"instincts" that lead to death by failing
to adapt themselves ' to a change of cir
cumstances. Migratory quail, by- thou
sands perish in the deserts of Northern
Africa, where their ancestors used to find
a comfortable winter resort, abounding
with forests and even with grain fields,
U we shall credit Pliny's account of the
Numidian coaslS lands. . The forests are
gone, but myriads of quail still follow in
the same route, at the risk of starvation,'
and Norwegian lemming rats still ob
serve tbe ancestral custom by migrating
south in a strict beeline.' fighting and
gnawing their way through all obstacle.
They travel in .armies of jmany hundreds
of thousands, ; and have, "regular van
guards to charge every living impedi
ment. Foxes, and even "wolves,' might
yield to a charge ol that kind, for the
jealous little rodent make up in num
bers and activity what f they lack ia
itrength, but their tactics miai their pur
pose la their application to a still greater
farmers join In a campaign of extermin
ation as soon as their scouts report tLj
advance of tbe lemming horde. Equine 1
with untanned boots and double, jacket j
they are rat proof, and use iron rinc 1
clubs that knock down whole squa ls c.f
the squeaking invaders at each blow,
but the sight of .their dying leaders en
tirely fails to daunt the pluck of the text
ranks. On they come, with a blind C j.
regard of, consequences, and in ths fury
of combat cling by scores to the Ini repa
irable boots ot . their slayers and ,;w:
tlmes to be swung clear off the gro-i
and down again with crushing effect. '
Several species of tortoises-can ho
hooked without a bait by taking ad
vantage of their mania for snapping at
every floating object, and tbe great ant
bear of the South American forests con-!
trives to intimidate his feline enemies by '
rearing up to his full length, but by that j
very trick gives the hunter a chanco to'
take a' deadly aim at his heart.
: The fighting propensity of some species i
of our dumb fellow-creatures has bcesj
developed by their unwieldincss and the
co:;83iuent difficulty of escaping tho
pur.uit of their enemies, and the natural-1
ist Linnaeus already called attention to
the suggestive circumstance that "short- '
legged monkeys are braver than the long-'
legcd ones." The FalstafSaa motive '
of valor makes the Eust Indian rhesm ,
ap tight like a bulldog and partly ex-'
iluins tho courage of Blugish bruin and
fome o( his smaller relatives. ;
The European badger rarely leaves hi? j
burrow before' sunset, but his love of 1
tweet grapes now and then tempts biiij
to neglect Jbe warning of the dawn, and
specimens caught ; in flagrante by tho
dogs of the vineyard owner never bud ?o
an incb, but fight to the very deatb ; tbo
very youngsters darting out from behind
their dam's back to try a snap at the
yelping aggressors.- Dr. Oswald, ia Sau
.Francisco Chronicle. ;
. j, . . -
But one in ' a thousand Tbe figure
c-oe. Harvard Lampoon. ,
The bad practices of others give tho
lawyer his good one. Truth. .
Is your neuralgia any better, dear TV
"It's worse I can't even think of my
new dress." Porget-Me-Not.
Jealousy is that which makes us in
sanely think we can secure the object of
ourregaru ij appcoiiug uawiui. .
, St. Louis has a girl phrenologist. Evi
dently woman is getting to tho head iu
the march of progress. Boston Tran
script. ,
'No man can paint a sign on a fence in
such a way that a boy cannot change is
to 1 read - something else. Atchison '
Globe. 1 '
She (yawning) "I do like a young
man with some get up and go about
him." He gets up and goes. Detroit
Free Press. t
Qnly one person in a thousand dies of
old age. So it seems that old age is not
so dangerous aa the insurauce tables
would have us believe. Boston Tran
script. '
The way In which little thidgs count '
looms up impressively when you nota
how far a slight change in the prevail
ing fashion can put your hat out of stylo.
Washington Star. , ' ; f
Hanager " What in the world is all
that racket about out in the back room?.'
Helper "It's time for the four-footed
girl to come on and she can't find her
other two feet." Truth.
.The Rev, Silas Sophtey "Ah, Thom
as, that man tried to take ma in about
that wretched screw of a horse ; but IVi
not such a fool as I look, eh?" Thomas
(the groom) "Noa, sir, thatyo're not."
The Rev. Silas "Eh, what?" Thomai
-"Beg pardon, sir, I mean ye're hada'fe
need to be." Punch.
- TWIni ef Klxci Breel " v
A cow belonging to Hr. Weatherby, a
well-to-do stockman of Manhattan, re
cently gave birth to a pair f singular
animals. They resemble colts moro taaa
calves, although both posses?, ru -".soli
tary noma and tne hoois of cattle, bus
in all other respects they etjem to bo
young horses, having lonj, Howie r
manes and the. tails of colts, only thesn
latter are unusually Iodj and bushy, ,0s. ..
is a male and the other is a famab, anl
both are 'ivell-developed, weU-sha; i animals.-
Tha mother, hc-wev,r, sc :-a tj
know that there is sonJictbi" ; &1 ru. "
bo-t them, and has i?zLi- It t'i
theia r.ataf.1 rovrLht nt, t ' t
i Hl:ov;y U'pty to.- . 1 '-