awakened became Imperative. She sent for Mrs. 
Rogers and asked whether she could not see the 
deserted studio. 
“ There’s only rubbish, miss,’’said the landlady. 
“ But please not to move any of U, or he will go 
On at me Uko anything when ho comes back. Not 
that he has any right, being In arrears, but ho 
has a way with him and 1 am soft-hearted, and 
he pays what, ho can. This Is the key.” 
Sybil took It, and ran up stairs. But when she 
turned the lock, a feeling or shame came over her 
as It she wore prying, or at least trespassing. 
However, she pushed the door back and entered 
a most untidy apartment. There were easels— 
one with a half-tlnlshed painting upon It; there 
were various articles of costume — malo and 
female—scattered about; In one corner stood a 
dummy figure, attired merely In yellow boots and 
spure, and a cavalier hat and feather. Specimens 
of ancient armor lay In a heap, from which pro¬ 
truded likewise a modern musket and bayonet, a 
There was a 
one? Not a hit of It.. They looked In all the 
windows which displayed such things In St. 
Paul’s Churchyard, Oxford Street, and Regent 
Street, and when they saw something which 
pleased them, they went inside and overhauled 
the whole stock, diverging, at the shopman's In¬ 
stigation, Into every article of female costume 
from ball-dresses to stockings, and then left, say¬ 
ing they would think about it. 
When hungry, they turned Into pastry-cooks’ 
shops, and ate ices and sweet cakes. About fivo 
o’clock they were exhausted, and went home to 
tea; alter which they sallied out again to a thoa- 
ter, a concert or an entertainment, and then 
wound up the day with a hearty supper. 
This kind of life Wflfl all very well for the young 
one, who had the constitution, of a cassowary, but 
at. the end of three days cousin Emily fell ill. 
Sybil was much concerned, and wanted to call In 
a doctor, but the invalid did not consider that, 
necessary. 
“I think, dear,” sho said, meekly, “that If we 
were to dino sometimes, I should be able to sluud 
LIFE’S VOYAGE 
The sun shines in the eastern sky, 
On the sea its splendor pours, 
And a ship is Bailing into Pit-'ki. 
And it comes from distant shores. 
Sweet music make the flopping sails, 
A» into port it slecrs; 
And from the shore t he ple.vant sound, 
A welcoming of cheers. 
A little life is welcomed in, 
A bark from unknown shores, 
Upon the world it casts its freight 
Of precious goods and stores. 
Sweet music makes the welcome words, 
“ To thee a child is given.” 
Wo hail it, as the ship is hailed, 
A blessing sent from heaven. 
The Bun sinks in the western aky, 
The evening faints in sight. 
As the ship sails out to the unknown seas, 
And soon is lost to Bight . 
Sad music makes the flapping sails, 
As seaward far it steers 
And dimly faint the shadowy masts, 
Seen through a mist of tenia. 
A weary life goes sinking out. 
And it drifts to a distant sea; 
And its goal is Lbe everlasting shores 
Of wide eternity. 
A voyage made by ships and men. 
Across an ocean vast; 
The goods and ills of life and death. 
The f uture and the past. 
t Cincinnati Times. 
panlonshlp. A trip to London would be very 
agreeable; and smtliey resolved on an excursion. 
There was n difficulty. Sybil asked Emily If she 
know uny-one at all in London. 
Cousin Emily thought a while, and thou said: 
“There Is Jane, Mrs. Hlnchbroko’s lady's-maid, 
who married and settled In London, whero she 
lets lodgings. 1 have her address somewhere." 
“Lets lodgings!" ertod Sybil, “Perhaps they 
ure vacant , and wo can have them. Find out 
whero she lives, at once—there’s a dear." 
Cousin Emily's huge rosewood desk yielded up 
a card, which announced that Mrs. Rogers had 
gcateeLapartmftnts, replete with every comfort, 
in Gower Street. 
"It. must be in quite* a* fashionable part," said 
Sybil, consulting a map, “because It Is near Ox¬ 
ford street and t he British Museum." 
So Cousin Euilly wrote to Mrs. Rogers, who had 
been many years In the service of her principal 
crony In tho cathedral city, aud to whorn she had 
presented a work box on her marriage, and re¬ 
ceived a reply by return of post to the effect, that, 
by the most extraordinary accident In the world, 
crlcket-baL foils and single-sticks, 
rack of curious pipes, German and Turkish. There 
were casts of famous statues, and what seats and 
tables there were, were Imitation antiquities. 
Two large portfolios on stands took up a good deal 
Of room, and the lifter was completed by the heaps 
of pictures in various stages of progression—very 
early stages Indeed, most, of them—piled up hero 
and there. The walls likewise were covered with 
pictures, some of which were llntshed. One—an 
Ariadne—Just waking up to the fact, of Theseus’ 
desertion of her, was honored with a very smart, 
fr am e, which had been hung almost out of sight 
by the “ Hanging Committee" of the Royal Acad¬ 
emy Exhibition. Tho longer she looked at the 
picture, the more It pleased her, and at last she 
got, quite indignant with tho Academy officials, 
who had hung It In a bad place, and with the 
public, who had not bought It. Then, gradually 
reeling at home, she went, in for a regular Inspec¬ 
tion of all the studies and sketches, and halt- 
formed designs in the room; and at last, even 
dipped Into the portfolios. Tho result was, that 
Instead Of passing the ten minutes she first pro¬ 
posed to herself In tho Btudlo, she spent the 
whole afternoon there, and Talked of nothing but 
her discovery to Cousin Emily nil dinner-time. 
Not content with that, she introduced her to tho 
studio on tho following 
■ ■ j | morning; tbo weather 
, /y • was One and the elder 
lady took a fair Interest 
In the pictures, though 
she was not so enthusl- 
(v//- astlc as tho younger— 
enthusiasm Is apt to fall 
— - uh before our eyes and 
teeth. 
' 41 Oh, Cousin Emily! is 
— / It not shameful that such 
' a beautiful painter 
>fT should get, so little for 
w hist works,, hardly enough 
^ to ,iv(l 0I1 > wldl0 more 
jnXr q ' l ~ daubers are paid —oh, 
— t. ity ever so much.” 
Urp\. “It.Is a pity he does 
not try daubing, then." 
“Oh, he could not do 
It; real genius can not. ho 
3 /tlV concealed. lie is a lmnd- 
some young man, with 
mclancholj eyes, and 
W*; beard—dark, or course; 
. Aiw&.h. but be Is not really mel- 
SJ/m gSEgy - ancholy; quite tho re- 
JjSSgfri* 1 . verse. And so good; ho 
—v half supports his mother 
^ <ip —who is the widow of an 
I v ^ Indian officer, with only 
A her pension to live on; 
, f that Is why he has 
debts.” 
uLr Y-^Az “Why, Sybil! how did 
mi -—• you come to know all 
SPjjjjSj about this Mr. —what 
M lii terjL “ Dorla is his name; 
Pfr ~ r but I have never set eyes 
upon him. Mrs. Rogers 
tolcl me ftl1 1 have J U3t 
'“Oh!” said Cousin 
hi? Emily, who had expcrl- 
flL78 'ilpfevF r enccd tho nearest ap- 
preach to tho feminine 
i ySsjBj' i. i Hensatlon called a “turn" 
l which her placid nature 
admitted. She was at all 
of Sibyl’s to run up and 
Ilook over tho absent art- 
K ist’s sketches, and no 
doubt she would soon 
have begun to critlctso 
and flnd fault, -only, he- 
Cr/i fore sho bad time to 
reach that stage, she left 
It,was not likely that 
CwxAA' t'V \ \ a well-connected young 
lady of good fortune and 
subject ;to no authority 
_ . hut the law of tho land 
“ ua — 1 ,'WK^ ‘ ,, and public opinion, 
// should be allowed to re- 
'•H 7 1 FT - * main long hidden In Lon- 
h . don. People who have 
money always fl m^rela- 
tlons, connections and 
/ friends, who are always 
- - _ glad to see them. In a 
fortnight, Sybil and Cou- 
SYBIL AND THE AETIST, 
“Cousin' Emily, I wish you were at least 
twenty years younger; most sincerely 1 do." 
“ So do I, my dear, quite as much as you do.” 
“You would be Justus 
good a chaporona and 
you would enjoy a little 
time In London.” 
“ 1 do not think, Sybil, 
that I am quite pa3t. that 
yet.” 
“ Then wo will go. W’o 
will take lodgings In a 
nice part, near every¬ 
thing; and wo will shop 
all tho morning and 
lunch at the pastry¬ 
cook’s, and shop all tho 
afternoon and go to the 
theater in the evening. 
And when we are tired 
of all that,, we wlil come 
hack to dear Nutting and 
the dogs and marcs and 
cows.” 
“A little change will 
be very, nice," said Miss 
Emily Needham, who al¬ 
ways acquiesced and 
was generally loved in 
consequence. Thai sho 
had not been particular¬ 
ly loved was a los3 to 
some one, for 3hc would 
have made an admirable 
wife, ller husband 
would havo got his own 
way In everything; but 
perhaps that would havo 
been bad for him too, 
and Miss Emily’s celiba¬ 
cy was probably all for 
tho best. 
It was very convenient 
for Sybil’s step-father, 
Gen. Von Flopdolllngen, 
a German soldier and 
politician, who had mar¬ 
ried an English widow 
with one incumbrance, 
and when he lost tho 
former felt ratber ham¬ 
pered by the latter. He 
kept her at school as 
long as possible; but 
when sho reached the 
age of twenty-one she 
was Independent, as she 
Inherited her own fath¬ 
er’s fortune, which was 
a nice 11 file property. 
The general, Indeed, 
would have liked her to 
live with bltn, become 
naturalized, and bestow 
her hand and what, was 
in it on one of his neph¬ 
ews, and to this end Sho 
spent several holidays in 
Prussia and might have 
left school some years 
sooner If she had shown 
a wish to ltvo abroad. 
But she called the soli 
of the Teuton “Step- 
fatherland,” arid did not 
care much for her cous- 
lns-german. So Gen. Von 
Flopdolllngen, who had 
promised to look after 
her interests and who 
VW&gJ), 
Or’! 
lip 
Eft ££ 
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