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Well knows the fair and friendly moon
The band that Marion leads,
The scampering of their steeds.
Across the moonlit plain;
That lifts his tossing mane.
A moment-and away
Before the peep of day.
Grave men with hoary hairs;
For Marion are their prayers.
With kindliest welcoming,
And tears like those of spring.
And lay them down no more
Forever from our shore.
SHE MEANT BUSINESS.
There is no reason why the inventor of a remedy to "cure the worst case of catarrh inside of five minutes " shouldn't feel it his duty to place a bottle of the same in every person's hand--"price twenty-five cents; no cure, no pay.” Therefore, the long-legged chap who pulled a door-bell on John R. Street yesterday had none of that timidity in his bearing which characterizes rag-buyers, lightning-rod men, and solicitors for the fire sufferers. He had a good thing, and he knew it, and he wanted other folks to know it. When the door opened and a hard-featured woman about forty years of age confronted him, he pleasantly went to business, and asked:
Madam, is your husband ever troubled with the catarrh?" “Can a man who has been dead seven years be troubled with the catarrh ?” she grimly replied.
“But the children are liable to be attacked at any hour this season,” he remarked.
“Whose children?" “Yours, madam."
“I never had any, sir! What brought you here, anyhow? Why do you come asking those questions ?”
“Madam, I have compounded a remedy for the catarrh. It is a good thing. I'll warrant it to knock any case of catarrh sky-high in less than five minutes." * Well, sir, what's all this to me?"
Why, madam-why-” he stammered. “Do I look as if I needed any catarrh remedies?” she demanded, as she stepped out on the platform.
“Madam, I would not for the world have you think that I thought you had the catarrh, but I suppose the fair and lovely can be attacked, as well as the strong and brave."
“And what have I got to do with all that rigmarole? Who are you, sir, and what do you want ?”
“Madam,” he whispered, backing down one step, “I have compounded a remedy for the catarrh." “Whose catarrh ?"
Madam, I am selling my catarrh_" “Where is your catarrh-where is it?" she interrupted. He got down on the second step and softly began :
"Madam, I have a sure cure for the catarrh, and I am selling lots of it.”
"Well, what do I care! Must you ring my door-bell to tell me that you are selling lots of catarrh medicine ?”
He got down on the walk, clear of the steps, and he tried hard to look beautiful around the mouth as he explained:
Madam, didn't I ask you if your husband was ever troubled with catarrh ?”
“Yes, sir, and didn't I reply that he was dead? Do you want to see his grave, sir ?”
“No, madam, I do not. I am sorry he's dead, but my catarrh remedy can't help him any. Good-by, madam.”
“Here, sir, hold on a minute!" she called,“ what was your business with me?"
“Why, I have a remedy for the catarrh.” "So you said before.” “I asked you if you didn't want to purchase, and—” “You are a falsifier, sir, you never asked me to purchase!" “Do-you-want-a--bottle ?” he slowly asked.
'Yes, sir: give me two of them: here's your money! Next time you want to sell your catarrh remedy, don't begin to talk around about the discovery of America. Here you've bothered me fifteen minutes, and put all my work behind, and it's good for you I didn't bring the broom to the door!"
He retreated backward through the gate, his left eye squinted up and his mouth open. He shut the gate, leaned over it and looked long at the front door. By-and-by he said: “Well, well! You can never tell where to find 'em."
- Detroit Free Press.
TALE OF A TEMPTATION.- ALICE HORTON.
His love was mine no more, mother, I saw it in his eyes;
me die? So I lay on your heart and cried, mother, an exceeding bit
A maiden's heart is lightly won-he won mine in a day;
word, And send me awful lingering, with pains of death deferred. I saw the rosy dawn, mother, cloud over gradually; I saw the shadows deepen, and the last sunbeam fly; And then I said, “It is enough; would God that I could die!" He came at last to blame himself for having long delayed; I must not think he loved me less—“No, surely no,” he said; He kissed me with a Judas-kiss; I felt myself betrayed.
I would be strong, I would live on, and in the end forget; But sometimes, in the night, I woke and found my pillow wet, And knew that all the years to come would be a long regret. Soon tidings came that turned my love to gall and wounded
pride; He who had knelt, and sworn to love me only, none beside, Had pledged his perjured word again, and won another bride. I hated him, I bated her; I hugged my misery; I writhed against God, earth, and heaven; I cursed my sun
less skv. * They shall not build their bliss,” I cried,“ upon my agony." Then came a day, from weariness I slept till after dawn, And started at the clang of bells—it was his bridal-morn; The whole world seemed to keep a feast, and I was so forlorn. I watched the clock, I told each beat, and as the hours I knew I must have cherished hope, for some hope seemed
to die; They to be building up their bliss upon my misery. I would go gliding up the church, right to the altar-stair, And steal a spectre to the feast, and break upon the prayer, And throw him back his ring, in sight of all the people there. Small pity had he had for me, that I should spare his bride; Nay, I would laugh to see the girl grow pallid at his side. No mercy had been shown to me, I would show none, I cried. Then quick as thought, my cruel thought, I rushed into the
street, And plucked my shawl about my face, and never turned to
greet, But passed, like vengeance, through the crowd, with evil
wingéd feet. The solemn, solemn church, it soothed and healed me un
aware; The holy light came flooding in, like balm on my despair: How could I harbor evil thoughts when Jesus Christ was there? And then I heard the organ peal-no gorgeous burst of sound, But a low, pleading, human voice, scul-thrilling, passion
bound, That seemed to say, “My child is dead; behold the lost is
found!” I looked upon her face, poor bride! so young. so true. so fair, And blushing, half with love and half to see the peonle stare; I sank my shafts, I hid my face, and clasped my hands in I heard their vows, I heard his voice, I heard the priest who
prayed. I suffered still, but, Christ be praised! the thunder-storin
was laid: God had said, “ Peace, be still," and lo! the stormy heart
obeyed. Through tears I looked upon my love, in sadness, not in hate; It was not he that worked my woe-not he, but only fate: Sorrowing, not sinful, bruised, not lost, I left the church's gate.
DEATH AND THE DRUNKARD.
His form was fair, his cheek was health:
mingled, neyt, joint torturing pain: