LAWRENG
riff
u m
3.
KEEP SINGING AS YOU QO.
A little girl out with her maid
Wai walking on the street,
And as I passed I heard her sing
In silvery tones and sweet.
Cold winter reierned, and yet her sons;
Rang out amid the snow;
I turned and said, "That's right, my deal.
Keep singing as you go."
ffe parted then, each to our ways
But lingers with me yet
The thought her nonjj suggested then,
Nor soon shall I lorget.
Amid the coldest of life's cheers.
Yes. e'en amid its woe,
One rule will sweeten all 'tis this:
Kp'U sinking as you go".
'Twill sweeten not alone your heart,
But some others lift
From depths which seem loo great for thel
Thouah they know not the gilt.
Ah! would you fill u blessed place
And good on men bestow.
Then cheer the coldest walks of life
By singing as you go.
Brooklyn Eagle.
A PAIR OF CHESTNUTS.
I was the most reckless, hard rid
ing, good for-nothing young scamp j
of a subaltern who ever carried her
majesty s commission. Hie one re
deeming point about me was the
fact that I loved Lena Vereker, and
in spite of my faults she loved me in
return. That was the best time in
mv life, and the downward grade
commenced with the advent of a new
fellow in the regiment, Saxby Brace
well by name. Under his auspices
the card table flourished exceedingly.
Like some few other men, he possess,
ed an extraordinary faculty for
irames of skill. Until he came I had
always been put forward by my
brother officers ns their show man
for ridmg, athletics, billiards, fenc
ing, shooting, or tennis, but before
this new light I went down as a lar
thimr dip before a gas jet. And yet
I would never consider myself beaten
but challenge him again "and again,
and, needless to say, there was al
ways "something on, just to give it
an interest." So things went on.
Play became heavier. The colonel
looked glum, my seniors spoke warn
in gly. Mr. Vereker did not seem so
franklv glad to see me when we met
and was more chary -of his invita
tions, and Lena looked pale and anx
ious. '
Then came the day when I woke to
find myself a ruined man, obliged to
send in my papers, and, hardest of
all. compelled to say a long good-by
to Lena, who, dear little soul, prom
ised to keep true until I should come
back from Australia a rich man (lor
that was the goal on which I placed
my hopes). Yes, I thought then that
fate could not have a blacker turn to
serve me, but I knew otherwise when,
on a lonely Australian station, I
read in a scrap o an English news
paper I had somehow picked up of
the grand marriage festivities be
tween Lena, daughter of Edward
Vereker, Esq., of Colne Abbey, and
I could hardly believe my eyes Capt.
Saxby Bracewell, of the Black Dra
goons, and only -son of Sir John
Bracewell.
MI
Press
Tills
1 UUVtJ'D
THE
An
Fan ills,
I did not know till then how the
secret consciousness of Lena at home
waiting for me had buoyed up my
spirit, but with that last blow all en
ergy or wish to retrieve my fallen
fortunes seemed to leave me.
But now, oddly enough, that 1
had no wish for money things took
a turn. My flocks and herds throve
apace, gold quartz was found on my
station in sufficient quantity, and
near a stream, to justify the forma
tion of a gold mining company nam
ed "Golconda Junior," . and in a
marvelously short space of time I
fo'ind myself in possession of an in
come which ic any one had formerly
told .me would one day be mine I
should have laughed him to scorn.
Then 1 found myself back again in
London the same old London and
yet there was a difference. I saw no
faces tbiix. 1 knew, or who seemed to
know me. The young ones seemed
to me so young, and the elders but
there, unconsciously as -it- were, I
turn my steps toward Tattersall's.
js 1 near the well remembered en
trance a man inmping out of a han
som knocks uj against me.
"I'm sure 1 beg your par
bless my heart! can it be?
surely is vourself! Jim, old
- Why,
Yes, it
fellow,
times!
welcome back a thousand
Who would have thought of meeting j
you? and you are just the very man .
I wanted." '
And Phil Blake, late captain in
the Black Dragoons, and one of the
cheeriest and kindest hearted of men,
grasped my hand and shook it with
all the enthusiasm of his nature. 1
''And how's yourself? and what are
ye doing? and wrhere are goig?"
were the questions rapidly poured
forth, as taking my arm he led me
on to the doorway. "Come in here
and give me the benefit of your judg
ment. I know nobody whom I'd
trust before you in the matter of
horse buying. There's a pair of
horses to be sold here to-day, and
the price asked is so ridiculously low
that, considering their make and
shape, I fancy there must be some
thing queer; but for the life of me I
can't discover -anything. They'll
make a grand pair of leaders. By
the way, do you know lve set up
coaching as a business; up one day
down the next? My line is between
Barrackville and London. It pays
expenses and leaves a little over.
Rather a pretty bit of country, too,
but of course vou'll know it all well."
"Yes," I said shortly. "St. Run
wald's, my old uncle's place, is on
the road," and 1 could not repress a
sigh as I thought of the old place
which had teen mine for a couple of
months.and then bad to go to the
hammer with everything else.
Ah, to be sure. Sorry I spoke, my
dearfellow'tammered my compan
ion, who had the kindest heart in the
world, and would not 'have hurt a fly
if he knew it.
I was about to ask if he knew who
owned St. Runwald's now, in order
to relieve him and show my sang
froid, but Phil, catching sight at
that moment of a well known de
pendent of the place, we were soon
deep in the mysteries of finding out
ell the evils that horseflesh is neirto.
However, our combined forces
could discover nothing seriously
aiaiss, &nd Phil Blake added to his
FAKMERS' ALLIANCE : LINCOLN, NEB.,
LINCOLN,
1
WE NOW HAVE ON HAND FOR
Feed
Hills,
stud a pair of exceptionally good
and cheap horses. We celebrated our
revived friendship by a little dinner
at the club, and after an evening at
the play we parted, I promising to
make the journey down to Barrack
ville with Phil some day soon.
Imagine then my surprise when a
few days later I received a note by a
mounted messenger (it was Sunday,
and consequently no postal service)
from Phil Blake, and the contents
still more surprised me.
The Silver Flagon, Victoria Place. j
'Saturday Night. j
Dear Lauriston As ill luck will have it, j
here I am overtaken by a bad attack of in- ;.
fluenza, and mielortunes never coming,
sinjjly, my head man, wbo usually takes the
ribbons when I am otherwise engaged, has
got an uirlv kick on tie Knee which quite in- j
capacitates him. It is all awfully annoying,
especially as every seat on the coach is
booked lor Monday, and ourfriends. the new
chestnuts, are to take their places in the
B
.
team, and the last stace into Barrackville.
Now, my dear fellow, I confidently appeal to
yon for help. Will you take the coach down
to Barrackville on Monday? and if possible,
I will go down on a lule train and meet jou
therein order to do the return journey on
Tuesday. I kno of old your skill with the
ribbons, and would rather put you in charge,
than any other man on such short notice.
Kibble, the guard, - will show you the line of .
"march." , j
Then followed directions, as to
time, stoppages, changes, etc.
Well, the end of it of course was
that Monday morning about 10:30
lound me turning under the archway
of the Silver Flagon. On inquiry I
learned that Phil Blake was decided
ly better, and hoped to be able to
get dowu to Barrackville by the
evening exnress. As 1 smoked the
very excellent cigar offered me by !
mine host of tlu- Silver Flaaron I was
conscious of a really pleasurable
feeling of excitement such as I had
often told myself I should never feel
again.
The yard presented quite a lively
scene passengers of all sorts and
conditions hurrying into their va
rious coaches, for the Silver Flagon is
a favorite coaching rendezvous. The
Barrackville coach "The lightning"
by name was being rapidly got
ready. It was one of Holland's best
make, and the shining dark green
panels and brass mountings were re
ceiving the last polishing at the
hands of the mem The tra velers be
gan to gather. Rugs, coats and um
brellas were stowed away, spare
traces and straps, etc., looked to.
Then the horses are led out as like
ly looking a team as any man could
wish to drive. , ,
"Take your places, ladies and gen
tlemen, please!" shouted the guard
in stentorian tones.
I threw away the nd of my cigar,
buttoned my gloves, rammed my
hat firmly on, said a word to the
head hostler as to the bitting, of the
leaders, glanced comprehensively
over the quartet, then gathered up
the reins and swung myself on to the
box.
The guard performed a fine fahta
sia on the horn.
"Give 'em their heads, William.
Let 'em go!" and with a fine dash
and clatter we were off; up Waterloo
place, Regent street, by Regent's
park, and so out to the country be
yond.
Until then I had given no atten
tion to th lady who occupied the
MP
NEBRASKA.
WHOLESALE AND RETAIL
i
AMD
P
I
uOi seat. 1 could see that she was
dressed very neatly and quietly; no
feathers or flowers or ribbons to
blow about and appear dishevelled
and untidy. From the top of her
jaunty little, hat to her well fitting
brown gloves all looked thoroughly
fit and workmanlike.
I immagined she must be well-to-do,
for a very neat Victoria had
brought her to the Silver Flagon,
her maid had an inside seat and I
heard the. man servant say he would
be down in Barrackville in time to
meet the coach on its arrival there.
Since the day Lena Vereker threw me
over I had quite eschewed ladies'
society, and I felt glad enough that
my horses gavemequite as much as I
knew to hold them, lh.-.ir exuber-
,aijce of spirits, the outcome of the
jRundav rest was delightful when one
had got them properly together, and
ft felt that if we were horsed for the
countrv stajres in th; same style I
should not regret having taken up
the role of stage coachman. I began
to form plans for a partnership with
Phil Blake and extending our opera
tions further afield w he; mjiv heart
seemed to stand still, ! a voice,
whose well remembered U.s t could
have sworn to anywhere s.
"I am so glad, coachman, hare
such a lovely day for our drive!"
It was a simple sentence enough
but the blood rushed up to my head,
and I don't know what I should
have done if my attention had not
been diverted by the near leader shy
ing violently at a gypsy van by the
roadside, necessitating some slight
punishment, vhat" in, the world
should J do? for ot all embarrassing
positions Here was I for the next
few hours bound to sit beside the
woman, I had once hoped to marry,
and who was the wife of the man by
whom I was tuined. '1 could not sit
speechless for six hours; I must say
something occasionally. Evidently
she did not recognize me, as how,
indeed,, should she after nearly ten
vears' interval, and as we had come
together under such different circum
stances? Growing more accustomed
to the position, when next she spoke
I was so far master of the situation
that I began to take an interest in
talking to her, and I noticed with
uleasure how little changed she was.
For the last stage my friends the
new ' chestnuts were put on as lead
ers. 'Our route now lay close past
dear old St. Runwald's and sadness
that .1 could not shake off made me
silent and indisposed for talking1.
What memories did the sight of the
well remembered scenes recalll There
was the exact sjkt under the seared
elm where I took my first fence on my
little .unmaried pony, and there was
the bend in the avenue where I last
saw my dear old uncle standing as
he waved his hand tome in farewell.
I wonder whether the man who owns
it now has made the old rose garden
give place to more modern style?
I wonder . " "
But ' here t am recalled to what is
going on around me by the conver
sation of some young fellows who
have the seats behind me.
. "Jolly old place, St. Runwald's.
Who owns it now? D'ye know?" .
"Not quite sure. Used to belong
to old Sir Peter Lauriston, and he
SATURDAY, SEPT. G,
DEALERS IN-
JLJHL
FALL TRADE
iters,
Trip
left it to his nephew, a young: fool in
the black dragoons, who went the
pace and lost everything at cards."
"1 remember,'- said another; "the
affair made rather a noise, did it not?
for the winner took not his house
and lands, but also succeeded to the
affections of his intended wife."
A roar of laughter followed these
words. I dared not glance at the
figure beside me, but I heard an in
tense whisper of "Oh! it is not true,
it is not true!"
"Who was the hi cky man?" asked
the first speaker.
"Sir Baxby Bracewell," said the
elder speaker, "but he paid the debt
ot nature a couple or three years
ago. It was said that young Lauris
ton's losses would not have been so
heavy if Bracewell had played more
on the square."
The shuddering sigh from my
neighbor wras more than 1 could
stand.
"I beg your pardon, gentlemen,"
1 said, turning round. ''I happen
to know all the circumstances of the
case you are discussing. Young
Lauriston was an utterly conceited,
vain young fool, who pitted himself
against a man of twice his science,
hard-headed ness and brains. He
continued playing, notwithstanding
the advice of those who knew, and
the end was obvious. There was no
sharp practice in the matter; and !
moreover, de mortuis nil."
As I turned from speaking to them
I encountered such a look of grati
tude and astonished recognition
from the dearest gray eyes in the
world as almost upset my equanim
ity. We were just rounding a rather
sharp bend by the park wall; the air
was filled with the sound of sheep;
there was a great cloud of dust; the
two new leaders, who had been
hitherto perfectly irreproachable hi
their manners, stopped dead, de
moralizing the wheelers, and despite
all blandishments and coercion com
menced, a wild stampede among the
.unfortunate sheep.
Lady Bracewell stood up. with the
intention, I. believe, of springing
from her seat.
. "Lena my darling, for your life,
sit still!" I shouted, above all , the
hubbub of, yelling shepherds, ter
rified sheep, barking dogs and plung
ing horses. "Undo this buckle, and
tou'U probably s-ave our lives," and
I tossed the ends of the leaders' reins
into her lap, fori saw that the traces
were broken, and I knew that if the
chestnuts got away while the reins
were buckled the bridles of the
wheels would be torn, off and a
'frightful catastrophe would follow.
Fortunately I kept sufficient con
troloverthe maddened creatures un
til I saw the reins divided; then I let
them slide throusrh the'rings. The
chestnuts turned sharp to the left and
bolted oyer the hedge, and I knew
hat we were . safe.. The . wheelers,
poor things, were soon subdued, and
then I dispatched the guard and some
of the many bystanders, who had of
course appeared from no one knows
where, to recapture the recalcitrant
chestnuts. , .
It was evident. now why Phil had
got them so cheap a wild dislike to
sheep was evidently their fault. ,
1890.
rn
Uli
However, by the time they were
brought back into .the way they
should go the flock had passed on,
after many and terrible threats of fu
ture consequences from the shepherds,
and fresh traces being forth-coming
we proceeded on our way, but not be
lore the thanks of the passengers had
been showered upon me for the skill
ful way in which I averted what might
have been an ugly accident. .
"Indeed, gentlemen," I said, "most
of your thanks are due to Lady
Bracewell, who so deftly unfastened
the buckle."
"Oh, Mr. Lauristonl" protested La
dy Bracewell, with a smile and blush
that forcibly recalled the Lena Vere
ker of old days.
The faces of the. men behind were
studies when they realized how they
had committed themselves. But for
that we care little, as, the ice once
broken, we began explanations and
confidences that made that drive
the most memorable of my life
save, . indeed, when a few weeks later
we, my newly wedded wife and I,
drove from St. George's, Hanover
square , in the brougham and a pair
of horses given to us by Phil Blake,
and the horses were our friends the
chestnut who sq wildly performed
the ceremony of introduction.
As we keep the in for town work,
and flocks of sheep are not frequenters
ot London streets, thej are a valua
ble addition, to our stud. London
World.
The Gentle Bloodhound.
From the Brooklyn Kajrle.
"Writers for the. press," said a gen
tle-man who has extensive private
kennels, "should do everything in
their power to take away the stigma
which at present rests upon the blood
hound. I have nice distinct breeds
of dogs at my place, have won prizes,
and made more or less of a study of
all kinds of dogs. I admit that for
a long while my personal likings ran
to a collie lor beauty and a bull-dog
for fidelity and honesty. Some time
in England I bought a brace of blood
hounds,' and in tho course of three
years they have weaned me in a meas
ure from every other dog I own.
They are as gentle, faithful and intel
ligent as any dog to be found in the
world, and it is outrageous that their
keenness in following a blood scent
should have brought upon thein such
a reputation for fierceness. To speak
of bloodhounds is to make the aver
. age man shudder, and yet these deli
cately organized, highly sensitive and
faithful animals deserve to rank as
the best , friend of man. Their eyes
have the expressiveness of a woman
and their tempers are as equable
and even as a thoroughbred mastiffs.
The question of beauty in a dog la
rather hard to define. - Bloodhound
pups are unquestionably remarkably
attractive looking creatures. Their
long ears, velvety paws and wonder
ral' eyes are ' all valuable. As they
grow old they undoubtedly lose much
of - their beauty of outline, hut they
are the most winning and affection
ate 'dogs in the world. I hope some
time that they will "recover from the
Van4wtnn Irtish 'ITffli Tnm'a ftaKin
has saddled them with.
to
J
P
Etc
p.
WIT AND HUMOR.
. Machine poetry looks more oons
posed when it comes from a t-roe-writer.
New Orleans Picayune,
"Let us consider the thing soberly.
"All right Til wait until you art
ready to-morrow, say!" N. T, Sun.
Talking of a National air, the strong,
est this country is able to furnish seemi
to be the cyclone. Philadelphia Times.
He "You never call me 'Birdie any
more." She ''Still I think you are
just as much of a jay as ever. Terrs
Haute Express.
"Hammock dresses" are announced
for summer wear. Something that a
girl can slip out of easily, we presume.
Yonkers Statesman.
She "O, dear, this is simply awful!
I can't see a single thing." lie 'Tin
a little better oil; I can see a hat.
Harvard Lampoon;
Ho "I am sure jou would like my
brother." She "I have no donbt I
should. I am told you two are so di!
ferent." The Epoch.
He "My Income is small and per
haps it is cruel of me to take you from
your father's roof." She "I don'l
live ou the roof." Chatter.
"James, I am cleaning bouse, so be
a good fellow and beat the carpet as
usual." "No, I think I'll shake it this
year." Philadelphia Times.
A new company for the culture ot
cork has been formed in this country.
It shold have no trouble in floating its
stock. JJinghamton lit publican.
Chumley "I say, Grutnly, what's
wrong?" Grimily ''Fired'" Churaly
"Fired?" Grumly "Yes, came to
the oiiice loaded." ruiladeiphia iress.
' Mrs.B. "Hero's an account of a mas
who loses hh fortune and then his
Wife," Mr. B. "Yes, there's a silver
lining to every cloud." Yenourine's
News
Bilious ;I sleep In feathers, but I
believe it's unhealthy." Tuflnut
"What's thatl Look at the spring
chicken; see how tough he Is." Boston
Herald.
At the Garden Concert "Won't the
gentleman take a seat inside? It rains
so hard." "O, no, thank you; we hart
lids to our beer mugs." Fliegcrui
Blatter.
Tailor "And you want this thick
piece of .leather sewed inside the trous
ers?" Customer "Yes; I am can
vassing for a religious publication.
Boston Herald.
Young Lady (tailor-made) "Take
my seat, please." Old lady (near
sighted, but grateful) "Thank you,
sir. You are the only- gentleman la
the car." Boston Budget .
Mrs. Fangle "What is Mrs. Gab
about's reputation as a charitable wo
man based uponP" 'From Behind tha
I Newspaper "Upon her willingness to
' attend to other people's business with
out charge." ssostoman.
Tommy "Papa, what is a crank?
Papa "O, we call a peculiar, eccentrlo
person a crank." Tommy "And a
base-ball crank is " Papa "A
base-ball crank is a man who will not
go to a game." Boston Herald.
. "Of course," said Jinks, "I am an
anti-slavery man. but, I would like to
ee a messenger boy put up at auction
Just once." "Why?" -lt would be
interesting 'to nee him when he was
STohng, going." Washington loH.