MOOBE’S BUBAL I'iEW-YQBKER. 
M 
DAWN. 
BY M. A. ALDEN. 
A CKO 8* tho golden barn of night. 
That foil and faded as Hip camn, 
The joyoun Dawn, with tresses bright, 
Stepped forth with sandals all nftame. 
Linked arms with the uprising son, 
Whoso Mm sent speeding o'er the hluo 
Of heaven, such glories, one by one 
To molten Jewels tbe dew drops grew. 
Then merrily across the green 
The happy pair began their raeo 
To gather tip the glittering sheen 
Though still each flower-cup bore a trace. 
The gently-waving foliage sang 
A silent song that each glad bird 
With echoing ronsle sweetly rang 
Through all the life and light that stirred. 
Oh, one more kiss then, happy Dawn ! 
Ere the proud Sun. still mounting higher. 
Takes from thy breast the wakening Morn, 
Who smiles all glorious on her sire. 
©itv j$torn-Seller. 
LOVED AND LOST. 
BY DE FORREST P. GUMMERSON. 
CHAPTER I. 
“ and thus forever, throughout this wide world. 
Is love a sorrow proving ; 
There ore still many sorrowful things in life, 
But the saddest of all Is loving.” 
No one whose eye was fond of gazing upon 
beautiful soonest could pass by the homo of 
Nora Wheaton without stopping to admire 
the beautiful flowers and smile at the happy- 
faced girl who worked among them. No one 
could tell just when Nora Wheaton came to 
reside in the collage. All that you could learn 
upon the closest Inquiry was, t hat the place had 
been long deserted and was fast goingto decay, 
when suddenly there came to occupy It a slight 
looking girl and an aged woman; that out of 
the tangled ways of weeds and undergrowth 
there soon came masses of blooms and beauty, 
tilling the air with tlnir i rugrance. AI t he close 
of each day Nora would take a basket tilled with 
bouquets and go Into the city, where she would 
readily dispose of thorn, when she would return 
and prepare more for the next day's sale. 
Of course, there was much wonderment as to 
where the beautiful creature came from; for 
that Nora Wheaton was very beautiful there 
was none to deny. That, she had a history, there 
was not a doubt, in the minds of those who saw 
her from day t.u day, and one of no common 
nature eit her, cdse why should she labor so in¬ 
cessantly among her flowers, and In caring for 
the old woman who was but litt le more than 
helpless, and of course a great burden. 
Nora Wheaton bad a history —and who 
among us has not? True, all do not share alike 
sorrow. To some it. is given to dwell lu the 
uplands, where the sun always shines and bright 
flowers blossom ever. To the many who dwell 
in the volleys, with dark clouds shutting them 
in and hiding the sun from their view, Nora 
Wl ;at< i.\'s story will corneas something akin 
to their own, In that, both have suffered much, 
endured much, and know not yet the end. 
The first time that, you gazed into the large 
and expressive eyes of Nora Wheaton, you 
would have said. “Sho is hilt, a child.” But 
when you bad noticed the lines of care under¬ 
neath, you would have added, “She is much 
older them I supposed : so much of will-power 
and endurance could not belong to a child.” 
And yet NORA WHEATON was but a child, not 
yet eighteen. Care had made her look much 
older than sho really was, without marring one 
1: : i i r -of her beauty. 
Sho had lived all her days in a small village 
not more than fifty miles from Boston. Her 
mother had died while she was yet in her in¬ 
fancy, and sho had been intrusted to the care 
of her father’s only sister. With her she hud 
lived until she was fifteen. 
In the same village there lived a widow aud 
her only son. This widow’s name was Law¬ 
rence. Nora Wheaton and Reuben Law¬ 
rence attended the same school, grew up to 
gether, in fact. From almost the first day of 
their meeting each had a liking for the otuer, 
which through the years that followed had 
grown into the stronger feeling of love. They 
took long rambles together over the hills in 
search of beautiful flowers, for Ma love of them 
was as great as hers. Seated at times upon 
some n oss-covered stone, beside some poarly 
brook, w lose rippling seemed like the voice of 
u hidden wood nymph, each would tell the 
other of their love; aud while they wove gar¬ 
lands of moss and crimson berries, they would 
also weave, in imagination, plans for their fu¬ 
ture, when each should walk the same path and 
dwell together. 
These were the sun-crowned days of their 
lives. What did it matter, then, if later clouds 
should obscure them? '‘Sufficient to the day 
is the evil thereof.” 
One day there came into the peaceful village 
a rumor of an approaching Avar. It was then 
; hat Nora Wheaton could see the cloud, uo 
oigger than a man’s hand, which was to hide 
her sun, perhaps forever. 
It was not long before this rumor grew into a 
fact. In the great city that was so near them, 
men were enlisting by the thousand; already 
had the call for more men reached the village 
wherein Nora dwelt; and when the sun was 
going down one day, and young Lawrence 
bad wandered with her out among the hills, she 
knew that on the morrow he whom she loved 
would lie numbered among those who were 
base enough to go down into the very jaws of 
death for the sake of their country and its 
honor. 
1 lays are as nothing. Even months come and 
go, and are remembered but as the shadows 
in a dream; and even years arc soon lost be¬ 
yond our reach. 
Three years had passed already since young 
Lawrence placed upon the lips of Nora the 
kiss of farewell. Since then, he had been in 
many battles, but as yet, hud not received a 
single wound. Ho wrote many letters to her, 
and now, when the term of his enlistment was 
drawing so near an end, his pictures of tic fu¬ 
ture grew so bright, that Nora would carry 
them in her pocket, and a dcflfctf t linos a day 
gazo upon t hem with all the eagerness and cn- 
rapturedness that an enthusiast aud lover of 
the arts \yould gaze upon some old pictures 
painted by the master hand of Raphael. 
Alas! that these hours of Hiss should ever 
cud. Why is It that these beaut iful ships which 
we send out to sea laden with the fondest hopes 
and plans of our lives, so often strike upon a 
rock and go down, down, down, and are lost to 
us forever? Who can tell? 
We dream to-day of a possible to-morrow, 
when a great joy awaits us. and our hear ts shall 
be filled with that Joy to overflowing. The elec- 
trie flash over t he wire, or the post man's ring, 
ami where is the joy? The garb that was to 
have been as white as angels wear, is changed 
to the somber hue <>f death, ami crape, its em¬ 
blem, decks us Instead. 
Battle fields are the harvest homes of death. 
There he holds one continuous holiday. What 
if, In some distant home, hearts will break Ire- 
cause of the work he is doing. It Is his to gather 
In. Let those weep who may; he can only 
laugh. 
Nora Wheaton was unusually glad the day 
on which the postman brought her a letter 
from the captain of the company In which the 
idol she had set, up for herself belonged. It 
needed but a hasty glance for her to see that 
her idol was no more, and that two or three 
great throbs of her heart told her t hat she was 
a wrecked and bruised being. 
Fnr nearly two weeks Nora Wheaton’s life 
hung by so slight a thread, that those who were 
in attendance upon her watched each moment 
for that thread to be severed and the tired spirit 
to be at rest. 
Then one day sho Opened her eyes and gazed 
for some time into those of the woman who 
was at her bedside. Then she spoke these words r 
” II is all over now. ! have seen him ; he is at 
rest. T can give him up now. You will not see 
mo weep any more, for I know that ho is at 
rest. Henceforth, 1 shall live with his mother. 
It, is Ills wish, tie told ine so only last night. 
Undid not suffer. 1 am so glad the bullet did 
its work at once. I saw the hole it made; It 
was just here, above the heart;" and sho placed 
her hand over hers, to indicate the spot where 
the bullet had entered the body of her loved 
one. 
The woman marveled much at what she had 
heard, arid when some of the < thera who were 
In attendance came In, told them of the strange 
words she had heard. 
They att ributed it to delirium, and believed 
that t hey were but the wandering thoughts of 
a disordered brain ; but when they received a 
letter pontainlngthe particulars of L \ w rence’s 
death, aud found that ho died as Nora hud 
said, and that the bullet had entered atthepre¬ 
cise spot indicated by her, they marveled still 
more, and fully believed that t he spirit of young 
LAWRENCE had indeed appeared to his affianced 
bride. 
CHAPTER II. 
1 said that Nora Wheaton lived with her 
aunt until she was fifteen. Then her aunt con¬ 
tracted one of those unfortunate marriages 
with a man but little better than a mounte¬ 
bank, and with him wandered about the world, 
being most of the time as she had left Nora— 
homeless. 
Nora w as homeless only in one sense of the 
word. So far as the want of a roof to shelter 
her was concerned, she was not. Her father 
provided ample means for that. But in the 
little things that go so much toward making a 
Home, the little kindnesses, Nora had none of 
these. 
Fora time, it seemed to her that she could 
not live in this way. Had it not been for the 
almost daily visits of young Lawrence, life 
would have been too groat a burden to bear. In 
him she found all the love that her soul hun¬ 
gered for and that she had uiissod since her 
mother had died. But when he had gone away, 
her loneliness would come back to her again 
and almost crush her. 
Young Lawrence was poor. He and his 
mother dwelt together lti a little cottage. He 
was an enthusiast, and had great plans as to 
what the future should bring to him. Tho 
mother whom he loved should yet have all the 
luxuries that could be obtained, and his should 
ue the hand to bestow them. 
When his golden dreaniB came Hue Nora and 
he would dwell together in some lovely spot 
and make his mother’s life one of continued 
happiness. 
These were the dreams. Alas ! that reality is 
so often unlike what they seem. Only a few 
short months since the dreams were dreamed, 
and to-day LAWRENCE slept in a far-off grave, 
and his mother and Nora dwelt in a home dis¬ 
tant from the village in which they had always 
made their home. 
It came about in this way:—N ora's father 
died. He had been at one time of his life what 
is called “well off.” But being of an easy dis¬ 
position, and not disposed to work and add to 
that which he already had, he had gone on 
spending from time to time, not only the inter¬ 
est, but the principal, until at the time of his 
death he was in possession of but little over 
$1,000, besides the little cottage in which we 
find Nora Wheaton aud her “mother,” as she 
delighted to cal! old Mrs. Lawrence, with 
whom she had lived ever since Reuben had 
died. 
Of course, all that her father possessed be¬ 
longed to her after his death. It was not enougli 
to even provide the few wants that she herself 
might, need. But she had strong faith in what 
she could accomplish. She had not iced often, 
when in Boston, the beautiful bouquets for 
gale, and it had occurred to her that her “small 
farm." as she called it. might bo made to yield 
a wealth of these beauties and become a source 
of profit., and perhaps, In Mm end, be the means 
of making them comfortably Off. 
Once having solved the problem as to what 
she would do wit It her land, she set about her 
work. It was no great thing to move the few 
things which together they possessed; so after 
she had some repairing done, they moved into 
the cottage which was for the future to be their 
home. 
Two years had passed since the day on which 
they had come to occupy the cottage. Nora's 
plan had been a successful one. Hie no longer 
went Into the city herself, but sent her flowers 
to the different florists who wore established 
there. 
! t. was at the close of a lovely June day. Mrs. 
Lawrence was sitting in her arm chair in the. 
open doorway, and Nora was busy in trying to 
train some obstinate vine up a trellis at the side 
of the house. 
Nora, with the rosy freshness of health upon 
her checks, and her wind-tossed curls playing 
about her faultlessly-shaped hon’d, was a bright 
picture to look upon at tho moment, when she 
had succeeded in her effort with the trouble¬ 
some vine. Suddenly the gate opened, and a 
stranger was seen coming up the walk towards 
the door. He carried Us ha! in one hand, while 
in the other he grasped a handkerchief with 
the snowy white folds of which ho endeavored 
to wipe the perspiration from his brow. 
“A warm day, ma'am,” he said, addressing 
Mrs. Lawrence. “The beauty of your flowers 
attracted my attention so much as to preclude 
the possibility of passing them by. Jf there is 
one beauty of nature for which I have a greater 
weakness thou any other, It isforflowers. They 
are to me what gold is to the miser." 
of course, NORA did not hesitate to join In 
the conversation. Nor did she fear to trust 
the handsome stranger. Ills love for flowers 
amounted to almost a passion as did hers. Be¬ 
tween them then, there was a friendship, though 
unacknowledged. The same law of love which 
governed one of these two beings, to some ex¬ 
tent governed t he other. 
After ;t few moments, Nora found herself 
chatting away with tbe stranger as though she 
had known him for years. She culled the 
choicest of her flowers, and made them into a 
bouquet for him. 
When he luid surveyed the grounds to his 
entire satisfaction, tie thanked them both for 
their courtesy, and expressed the hope that ho 
might cull again during his stay in tho village, 
without intruding on their hospitalit y or rob¬ 
bing them of time which they might wish to 
employ in some other way than devoting It to 
him. 
Nora bade him come whenever he felt so dis¬ 
posed; then, as he raised his hat, bowed, and 
disappeared around the trees that lined the 
walk on cit her side, she turned and went into 
the house, followed b\ -Mrs. Lawrence. 
“A very pleasant man,” was the only com¬ 
ment made by Mrs. Lawrence, and to which 
Nora responded with a quiet “ Yes.” 
Atthe close of the week Leslie Thorne came 
again to the cottage, pleading his love of flow¬ 
ers as tl,e cause of so soon indicting them with 
his presence. 
Bo! NoRA needed no excuse; nor would she 
accept one. Soshc told him in words that could 
not he misunderstood. Yet, if he chose to make 
the flowers t Ue “ open sesame” of his visits, ho 
was welcome so to do, for she was “ Sure the 
gate would be always open for him. to enter if 
he but uttered the magic words." 
Out of all this idle talk and flower-worship, 
what else could grow but love? There Is a 
beauty in flowers; there is a greater beauty in 
love. Out of i he leaser should always grow the 
greater. And so with each bouquet that Nor \ 
Wheaton wove for Leslie Thorne, site wove 
a chain lor both which neither in the days to 
come would have the power to break. 
And what need? When a true heart meets 
with its counterpart, it is right that the twain 
should become one. 
There camean hour in which the tender words 
were spoken that made Nora Wheaton tho 
affianced wife of Leslie Thorne. After the 
winter had gone and spring had come, wooing 
once more the bright flowers into a new Ufa, ho 
would come for her, and then their lives should 
blend into one, in the fullness of a great and 
tender love. 
Leslie Thorne lingered in Asheoate until 
the frosts had chilled unto death the flowers 
that grew about. Nora Wheaton's home. Then 
one day he imprinted a kiss upon tho brow 
where years ago young Lawrence had placed 
the kiss that, made her his and went away. 
To gay that with him the sunshine went for a 
time from ont Nora's life, would be but true. 
Who that lias learned to love 1ms seen the ob¬ 
ject of that love depart for some distant place 
without a secret pain, and a feeling that the 
light of day had almost disappeared with them, 
ami an a! most, despair when it scented that per¬ 
haps they had seen that loved one for the last 
time? To all of us comes at one time at least 
In our lives, t his feeling. When we cry to Hoo 
in Our hearts to guard tenderly our loved ones 
and bring them in safety back to ns again. In 
the days that come lingeringly, and our loved 
ones come no more back to us, only the cold 
and chilling message—dead! Is it a wonder 
that man, in his weakness, dot h cease to believe 
in prayer, to doubt almost t he existence of a 
God? 
Spring came. The flowers in their beauty 
came. But. Leslie Thorne, where was he, that 
Nora Wheaton gazed so long each day from 
her window waiting for his appearance, but in 
vain ? 
She had not, received a letter for over a month. 
Witten lie had written to her last he had said 
that in May he would come to claim her as his 
wifo. His letter was dated at, San Francisco, 
whither he had gone upon leaving Asheoate. 
But there came a time when Nora knew as 
In the probable fate of Leslie Thorne. Tho 
vessel on which he had soiled was burned at 
sea, and out of the two hundred passengers 
who embarked upon it , but twenty were known 
to be saved. Leslie Thorne's name was not 
among this list. 
Through deep suffering Nor a Wheaton had 
become strong. This time her soul gave forth 
no outcry, no evidence of the bitter pain-stings 
that were within. She only knelt arid prayed 
that (>ou would enable her to hear her grief 
bravely, and above all, that film might not lose 
hsr trust in Him. 
In the days that came after she knew Leslie 
Thorne was dead, Goo knows that there were 
more tilled with darkness than light. Yet, 
through all, her faith was unwavering in His 
goodness, and a trust that in some far-off day 
there awaited her a great joy when she should 
meet her loved ones again. 
After her first great sorrow, tho bitter hours 
when the heart t hrobs were choking her and 
her pain seemed too great to bear had passed 
away, and she could look the future full in the 
face ami say. ” Father, Thy will be done,” she 
went out once more among her flowers. 
Everything reminded her of him. Here was 
a bed i'i which last year hod grown a lovely 
heliotrope, whoso blossoms lie had plucked and 
placed in her hair. Here had blossomed a beau¬ 
tiful tea rose, which ho had placed among a 
little cluster of lace at her Ihroa.t. Turn which 
way she would. She could not banish his pres¬ 
ence from her; i 1 seemed as If ho was always at 
her side. This feeling grow upon her to such 
an extent that the greater part of each day was 
spent in the spot, where they had Iasi sat to¬ 
gether arid planned for the future. 
Mrs. Lawrence, good old soul that she was, 
humored every whim of her darling child, and 
would often talk with her for hours about both 
the lost ones, jut- Nora never forgot the first 
love of her life. 
Toget her these two still dwell. The cottage 
will always be their home until death shall call 
one or tho other to another and a better home, 
where there shall be no more death, neither 
sorrow nor crying, neither shall there he any 
more pain : for the former things are all passed 
away. 
-- 
SPARKS AND SPLINTERS. 
How to arrive at the bight ol' a church steeple 
on a hot day—Por-spire. 
Aged people are foml of telling stories; they 
have arrived at their anecdot&ge. 
A cheap way of getting credit for liberality 
was devised by the managers of a fair in Illinois, 
who offered a premium to the oldest spinster 
present. Of course nobody claimed it. 
Swift'S maxim in conversation was:—Take as 
many half minutes as you can get, but never 
Like more than half a minute without pausing, 
and giving others an opportunity to strike In. 
The following is a genuine dialogue which 
occurred recent ly in one if the public schools 
of London: Teacher to sebolur—“ What gender 
is mouse?” Scholar—" Feminine.” Teacher 
“Please give the masculine gender." Scholar— 
“ Itats.” 
“ O m amma, mamma," said a tow-headed little 
urcliiu, in a tone of mingled fright and peni¬ 
tence. “ O mamma I's been thwearing! ” “Been 
swearing, my child; what did you say?” “O 
mamma,” (begins to sob), “I—I tiled old Dan 
Tucker." 
An Irish gentleman of a mechanical turn took 
off his gas-meter to repair it himself, and put it 
on again upside down. At the end of the quar¬ 
ter is was proved with arithmetical correctness 
that the gas-company owed him eight dollars 
and fifty-seven cents. 
A SCHOOL-GIRL, in order to convince a jealous 
boy that she liked him better than some other 
urchin, exclaimed : "Of course I like you bet¬ 
ter than 1 do Bill, for don’t I miss words in my 
spelling lesson on purpose so as to be down at 
the foot of the class where you are?” 
