THE COUEIER
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NIGHT THOUGHTS.
Written for Tub Courier.
TIS strange. Today I shako you by tbo band, I look into
your eyes and love you; yesterday I did not know that the
world contained you. For years we have each gone our
ways, have laughed and loved, and cried and hated, without each
other. Our happiness has seemed to be complete and our sorrow
at it deepest; but now it seems that we have but half lived before
we met. It seems to me that if you were to drop out from my
world, that it would take all the brightness from it, that if the
music of your voice were hushed I would always be sad.
But we have met now. You can never be blotted from my mind.
Although you should go to the ends of the earth, yet would memory
hold your picture before my eyes. Though the grave should swallow
you up and your blue eyes bo heaps of bony ashes in their bony
urns, yet would I see them ever in the blue of the sky in the colors
of the forget-me-not. Though estrangement should come and we
would pass each other by, with no glance of recognition, yet would
the memory of your bright happy face, as it looks at me now
come before me and I should love you I know.
Tis strange. Yesterday we spoke with him. Felt his warm hand
laughed with him and walked together in the bright sun. Today
he lies there cold and silent. He is deaf to all our laughter, silent
at all our tears. Thero is no answering pressure of the hand as we
press it fondly no tenderlook in the eye as we gaze and gaze with
a world of love within our own. What has made the change? In a
moment, with the suddenness of a flash of lightning, that which
made him lovable has vanished and but cold unresponsive clay lies
before ub. Tomorrow and tomorrow will come but the places that
knew him will know him no more. Wo will search for him and
gaze expectantly to see him come, but he will not come again. His
very name is now an empty thing. In dreams alone may we hear
his voice, see his face and press his hands, but dreams are but
dreams.
It is night in the great city. The shop windows are brilliantly
lighted. The people pass along the street hurriedly. The house
wife hurries home with her purchases for the morning meal the
business man after a long day of hard wearisome toil strides hastily
home to his bright fire and his evening paper.
It is now growing later. Here and thero the lights go out in a
shop and the keeper comes out and locks the door behind him. The
solemn policeman stalk back and forth, ever looking with sharp eyes
at the passereby. Now the degraded classes of society begin to come
out. Men stagger and reel along, their clothes in rags and their
faces marked with the oile mark of sin and uncleanness.
A woman passes under the street lamp. Wildly her eyes stare
out of a face pale as death. In one hand she grasps a tiny vial.
She enters a drug store and the clerk fills the bottle with a harm
less looking powder, and back she goes into the shadows from
whence she came. In her hand she carries her curse morphine.
Some wan morning will find her stark and still in some dark garret,
with the fatal bottle clasped in hands that will never open.
of a broken-hearted woman can be heard,
out in the city and all is dark.
The lights have all gone
The day has come to confession
To the sable browed priest, called night,
And is whispering her sins and short comings
Through a lattice of shadow and light.
The night heaves a sigh at the story
Of oppression, of wrong and of shame,
But sprinkles the penitent softly
And grants absolution from blame.
And sighing softly and faintly
Relieved of tho load of her care,
The day falls asleep while gently
The night breathes a pitying prayer.
William Reed Dunkoy.
RICH MEN'S AMUSEMENTS.
Great men and rich men have usually had peculiar hobbies, often
very remarkable ones.
George Washington bought lottery tickets, and Benjamin Dis
raeli delighted in the small talk of fashionable society.
Commodore Vanderbilt devoted his spare time in the day to driv
ing fast horses and his evenings to whist.
Senator Quay, the gentleman who controlled Providence in the
United States before President Harrison's election, goes fishing
when he is weary of the cares of state. Thomas A. Edison plays
poker.
Captain Sam Brown of Pittsburg is an obscure millionaire, who
employs some 4,000 miners, and is one of the largest shippers of coal
in the country. He spends his money on horses, and was the owner
Troubador, which won the Suburban in 1837, and afterward defeat
ed Mr. A. J. Cassatt's The Bard.
The favorite amusement of Andrew Carnegie, that very famous
Pittsburg millionaire, is coaching. He has just bad built in Eng
land OLe of the most luxurious vehicles that was ever driven.
W. K. Vanderbilt and George Gould are yachtsmen. Mr. Vander
bilt is also fond of hunting and fishing.
George M. Pullman finds his greatest pleasure in riding in one. of
his own palace cars.
Robert Bonner and Frank Wor are two New York millionaires
whe spend their wealth on racing tnd trotting horses.
PERSONA GRATA.
First Vassar Girl Ho said he could not live without me that I
was, in short, a sine qui non.
Second Vassarr Girl And you said
First Vassar Girl Well, I gave him to understand that ho was
not exactly persona non grata.
Along the fast darkening street hurries a young man. tie has
emerged from a gambling hell. His face is drawn and fearful. His
eyes are full of despair. He goes on and on until he reaches a beau
tiful home not far from the busy streets. There under a window he
stands a moment and lifts his hands as though in praper. Suddenly
the beauty of the night is hideously marred by the sharp sound of Rheumatic Twinges
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Then the white, frightened face of a beautiful girl looks out from
between thj parted curtains. Then the yard becomes filled with
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